Snapshots.

It's all reducible to still frames. There was motion in reality, but it was mostly back and forth, and there were words, but they were mostly stupid. I mean, they seemed hot at the time, but if you read a transcript back to me now, I would want to hide in a hole.

Me, facing an undecorated white wall, fully clothed, him seizing me from behind.

Me, on my knees, vibrator shoved up my cunt and held in place with rope, cock down my throat, a whip landing harshly on my back. Silently telling myself "You like this kind of thing. You asked to do this. I think you're even liking it right now."

Me, bent over his knee like a naughty child, being brought to orgasm by the most subtle motions of his fingers.

Him, now, hogtied wrists to ankles, leaned forward on his knees, mouth buried in my pussy as I lean back on a plushy couch and just relax with it. I can't get off on it, true, but that just means it can last as long as I'd like.

Him, sitting on that couch now and tied to it, me straddling his knees like a lapdance, except that this lapdance is no tease, no pantomime of what could have been. Believe me, buddy, it is.

Me, bent over the arm of the couch, whip landing on my ass, losing count of the strokes, panicking, screaming "Stop, stop," and he doesn't, that wasn't the safeword and we both know it, and I'm saying it clearer and calmer, using the authoritative voice I use on violent patients,"No. STOP." but that still isn't the safeword and he doesn't.

Me, still shoved down over that armrest, his whole hand inside me, a kind of pain in itself but not one I'd stop for the fucking world and he doesn't even have to do anything, God it's ecstasy just from the tiny movements of my hips and it doesn't fucking end.

Both of us, lying on the carpet side by side and hand in hand, kissing, giggling, teasing each other about the goofy shit we just did, kissing some more and promising to do it all again next time.