BDSM HGTV

we are designing a house, the philosopher and i. it's a fantasy house, accumulating details in little bursts of erotic inspiration. a fantasy house, but you never can tell.

he keeps me naked in our fantasy house, parading me boldly past a vastness of glass. we're creating our refuge amidst miles of trees. we're very considerate, protecting the neighbors from my screams.

we're surrounded by trees, but he has his favorite. it arises out back, in the huge open area that allows the sun to flood this home to our darkest fantasies. he hauls me to the tree by my hair, ties me hard against the rough bark, sometimes embracing the huge trunk, sometimes arms drawn behind so that i can watch him pull the belt from the loops of his jeans, watch as he folds the strip of leather in half, watch as he brings back his arm before striking, watch his erection stretch the blue denim as welts sprout profusely on belly and thighs.

sometimes he ties my wrists in front of me. he reaches for the rope permanently tied to a strong branch above our heads, lifts me up just off my toes, and attaches my wrists to the hand-forged iron hook at the rope's end. i know it is time for the cane. he loves to watch me dance as he canes me. he knows i'm not trying to escape his blows; i'm much too submissive for that. it's the pain. i can't help it. automatically i wriggle and dance to flee the awful aftershocks that echo down through my ass. i cry out with each blow, and my pain shrieks through the acres of forest. if the screams manage to reach civilization, they are ascribed to some strange wild beast.

in our passion, we are wild beasts.

he canes me, again and again and again.
and honey drips out of my cunt,
pooling beneath my dancing feet.

sometimes i think of bringing in a decorator. or perhaps we are chosen for one of those HGTV design shows, where 3 designers compete to satisfy your house lust. we lead them to the bedroom, and mention our need for hooks that will drop from the ceiling at the press of a secret button. a section of wall will disguise the door to the toy closet, with shelves and rods to keep all his evil implements at hand. we specify thick padding under the stain-proof carpet, to protect my knees when i crawl. which is often.

i demonstrate.

each designer smiles and nods and takes notes as if we were discussing where to put the pantry. each designer shivers only slightly as the philosopher twists my naked nipple and requests a color-coordinated cushion for his pet's cage.

"now here's where we thought of putting the dungeon..."