What Sofía Asked Me Before Closing Her Eyes

He had been sitting in the chair for nearly half an hour when Sofía started to move. The room was dim, lit only by a lamp in the corner and a candle burning on the table. The only sound was her breathing, slow and steady, already beginning to change rhythm.

Sofía was hanging from the ceiling with her wrists tied to both ends of a metal bar. Her ankles, secured to a wooden base on the floor, kept them almost a meter apart. She wasn’t wearing any clothes. She had asked for that too.

She was the kind of woman who makes it hard not to look. Wide hips that contrasted with a narrow waist, a long dark mane falling over her left shoulder. Her tits were big and round, and in that position they hung under their own weight, moving slightly with every breath, the dark nipples already half-erect even though no one had touched them yet. Lower down, the dark trimmed hair that barely concealed the swollen lips of her pussy.

She blinked. Once first, then twice. Her body tensed the moment she felt the restraints.

***

We had known each other for two years. We were part of the same group of friends, that kind of group that gets together on Fridays because no one quite remembers why the habit started in the first place. Sofía was one of those people who fills up space without meaning to: she talked too loud, laughed at exactly the right moment, and always had something to say. With me, though, that “something” always had a particular edge to it.

It started shortly after I asked her out. She said no, which was completely her right, but the way she did it made it clear it wasn’t just a refusal. From then on, every get-together became an opportunity. The way I dressed, my height, the movie I’d seen the week before, the job I had. She always found the angle, and she did it with a smile that made it hard to complain without coming off as the sensitive one in the group.

The night she sent me the message, I was already about to fall asleep. It only said: “I want to talk to you. Without the others.” I answered that was fine, put the phone on the nightstand, and took a long time to fall asleep.

We met three times before getting to that point. The first time, she told me she had been thinking about this for a while, that she had read up on it, that she knew exactly what she wanted to explore. She didn’t say it gently or hesitantly, but with the same confidence with which she said everything, only without her usual edge. The second time, we talked about limits with a specificity that surprised me: what was on the table, what wasn’t, safe words, the color scale, the rhythm of pauses, and the rest periods. The third time, we agreed on the date and the practical details. She chose the day. She chose the time. When that night came, she brought a bottle of red wine and sat on the sofa as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

She let herself be tied up without saying a word. She only pointed at the bar in the ceiling with a gesture and waited for me to finish the knots. Then she stayed still for a few minutes, eyes open, testing the restraints with small, measured movements. Then she closed them.

I sat down to wait.

***

—What did you do to me? —she said, her voice still rough. Her tone was exactly the one we had agreed on to begin.

—What we agreed on —I answered, not moving from the chair.

—Untie me. Right now.

I stood up slowly and began to circle her without hurry, looking at her. She followed me with her eyes. She still had that expression I knew so well, that mix of self-confidence and something else I had taken time to learn to read properly.

—Today I’m going to teach you to be a little nicer —I said.

—I don’t think so —she replied.

—You asked for it yourself.

—That doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.

I moved behind her. My hands found her hips and began to travel slowly up her ribs. She dropped her head quickly, as if she were going to bite me, but she didn’t manage to reach me.

—That wasn’t in the agreement —I said.

—I could have made an exception.

—Teeth are off-limits. You set that rule yourself.

A brief silence. Then, almost under her breath:

—What an inconvenience.

I returned to my position and picked up the leather flogger resting on the table. It wasn’t a horse whip but one with several braided tails, the same one she had chosen in a specialty shop and sent to my address with a message that said: “For when the moment comes.” I snapped it through the air, far from her. Just so she would hear the sound.

The first strike landed on her ass with just the right force, calibrated.

—Ah! —she exhaled. It wasn’t exactly a cry of pain.

—Color? —I asked.

—Green —she answered without hesitation.

I kept going. I measured each strike, watched her skin gradually redden, left enough time between one and the next for the sensation to settle before the following impact. She kept her head down, hair covering part of her face, her breathing deeper and slower at the same time, as if her body were learning to process something that until then it had only known in theory.

—You’ve spent two years taking shots at me in front of everyone —I said as the flogger opened again across her skin.

—It was just that you were easy to provoke —she replied, her voice a little less steady than before.

—And now?

She didn’t answer.

I alternated the blows between her ass and the upper part of her thighs, respecting the limits we had agreed on. She moved with each impact, but without fighting the restraints. The leather against her skin made a dry, sharp sound that filled the room with an almost regular cadence.

—Color?

—Green —she repeated, though now with a slightly different tone. More open.

I moved closer and ran my fingers gently over the skin I had just worked over. Her ass was hot to the touch and already showed the result of the last twenty minutes. I lowered my hand and brushed her pussy with two fingers, just a touch over the outer lips. They were slick, wet in a way that left no room for argument. She let out a sound that was neither complaint nor pleasure but something exactly in between the two.

—Look at yourself —I said, bringing my wet fingers up to her mouth so she had to smell herself—. Soaked from just a few lashes.

—Shut up —she murmured, but without force.

—How’s that feel? —I asked near her ear.

—Like I expected —she admitted after a pause.

—Better or worse?

A longer pause.

—Better —she said, in a very low voice.

***

I took up the flogger again. This time the blows were more spaced out, slower, almost ritualistic. It was no longer about overcoming her resistance but about keeping her in that particular state, suspended between anticipation and satisfaction, without letting either of them win entirely.

Sofía had stopped holding the defiant posture from the first rounds. Her body hung heavier from her wrists, her head tilted slightly forward, her shoulders dropped in a way that in another context would have looked like exhaustion but here was something completely different.

The blows kept coming. Between one and the next, I would come closer, run my hands over her hips, just barely brush her belly, stop right before going lower. Every time I did it, she held her breath for a moment. A small, involuntary movement of her hips, precise and subtle, that didn’t go unnoticed.

—Andrés —she said.

It was the first time she had used my name since she arrived.

—Tell me.

—Please.

—Clearer than that.

Another blow. Soft. Precise.

—Please, Andrés. Touch my tits.

I moved until I was in front of her. Her face looked directly at me, without hiding behind her hair. There was something in her eyes I had never seen in two years of running into each other every Friday. An openness that cost her more effort than anything else she had done that night.

I raised my hands and cupped her tits with my open palms, carefully squeezing the hot flesh, weighing them before starting to work them. Her skin burned and her nipples were fully hard, two dark points digging into the center of my hand. She closed her eyes.

I began to move slowly, pinching the nipples between my thumb and forefinger, tugging slightly outward and downward, increasing the pressure gradually until she let out a long sound that lasted several seconds and that she made no attempt to hide. I bent down and took one into my mouth, sucking hard, letting my tongue circle the nipple before gently biting it. Sofía arched as far as the restraints allowed, pushing her chest into my mouth.

—Like that —she murmured—. Like that, fuck.

I switched to the other one. I sucked her nipple until I felt her trembling, while with my free hand I pinched the one I had just left. Her hips began searching for something that still wasn’t there, a small, rhythmic movement against the air.

—Color?

—Green —she murmured—. Green.

I moved one hand down her stomach, very slowly, and brushed her pussy again. She was wetter than before. I slid a finger between her lips, without actually going in, just tracing the soaked line from top to bottom, deliberately avoiding the clit. She pushed her hips forward, looking for pressure, and I pulled my hand away.

—Not yet —I said.

—Son of a bitch —she said, almost laughing—. Green. Very green.

***

I stepped back and picked up the flogger again.

—We’re not done yet —I said.

She opened her eyes and looked at me. There was nothing left of the challenge from the beginning in her expression. Only anticipation remained, and something that looked a lot like impatience.

The next blows were spaced out and interspersed with approaches in which I ran my hands over her hips, brushed her belly, stopped just before the limit. Every two or three strikes, I knelt behind her and ran my tongue along the insides of her thighs, going up until I barely brushed her pussy lips before pulling away. I could feel her trembling each time, a small spasm running through her entire back.

The fourth time I did it, I didn’t pull away. I parted her lips with two fingers and ran my tongue all the way from bottom to top, slowly, tasting her. She moaned without restraint, a guttural sound I had never heard before. I did it again. And again. I drove my tongue inside and moved it in circles, sucking up everything she gave off, while my thumb traced circles around her clit without quite touching it.

—Andrés, please —she said, her voice breaking—. Please.

I pulled away. I gave her another flogger strike on her red ass, softer than the previous ones.

—Please what.

A long silence. Another blow.

—Please, Andrés. I want you to fuck me. To put your cock in me and fuck me hard. That’s what I’ve wanted since I got here.

She leaned forward as far as the restraints allowed, spreading her legs a little wider, offering her ass backward at an angle that left no room for any interpretation.

I moved to the table, took the lube, and unfastened my pants. I pulled my cock out and wrapped my hand around it, already hard as stone for a while, the tip shining. From behind, I pressed myself against her and slid two fingers in first, all the way to the end, carefully. She was completely soaked, so much so that my fingers went in without any resistance and came out covered to the knuckles. I showed them to her over my shoulder.

—Look how wet you are.

—Put it in already —she panted—. Now.

—Color —I said.

—Green —she answered. And this time she said it as if she’d been waiting for hours to say it.

I rested the head of my cock at the entrance to her pussy and pushed. The penetration was slow, millimeter by millimeter, feeling her open up around me, squeezing me on every side. She let out a long sound that began as something close to a whimper and ended up being completely something else when I was all the way inside her, pressed against her red ass.

I stayed still for a few seconds, just to feel her clench. Then I pulled back almost to the tip and drove all the way in again in a single thrust. Sofía screamed.

—Again —she said—. Like that.

I wrapped my hands around her waist and started moving for real, pulling almost all the way out and driving all the way back in, with long, measured thrusts that made her body knock against the restraints. The sound of our bodies, skin slapping against wet skin, filled the room. She moved with me, as much as the restraints allowed, adjusting her hips to meet every thrust. Her tits swayed with the rhythm and I could see them from behind, that heavy movement adding something to the whole that was impossible to articulate precisely.

—Harder —she panted—. Fuck me harder.

I grabbed her hair, not too hard, and tugged back to make her arch her neck. I changed the angle, thrusting upward, looking for the point that would make her lose control. I found it within a few strokes: she let out a strangled cry and began clenching around me in rhythmic spasms.

—There, there, there —she repeated—. Don’t stop.

I brought one hand around to the front and lowered my fingers to her clit. I started rubbing it in quick circles while continuing to thrust from behind, keeping the same angle. A few seconds later I felt her tense completely, every muscle tightening at once, and then explode. She came with a long cry that came from deep inside her, contracting around my cock in waves that almost made me finish right there.

I forced myself to stop. I let her ride out the orgasm, waiting still inside, feeling her tremble.

—I’m not done yet —I told her in her ear—. You’re taking one more.

—God —she murmured—. Yes.

I started moving again, slower at first, letting her recover her rhythm. Then I sped up again, with hard, deep thrusts, holding her hips with both hands. I bit her shoulder without leaving a mark. I pinched her nipples from behind, one with each hand, tugging them in time with the thrusts.

I lasted longer than I expected. There was something about the forty minutes of controlled tension before that that had calibrated my body in a way I didn’t fully recognize. When I felt her tense up a second time and start clenching around me again in spasms, I gave in. I drove in deep, all the way, and came inside her with my hands clenched on her hips and my forehead resting between her shoulder blades, breathing against her hot skin while my orgasm came out in long spurts that I could feel spilling into her.

I stayed like that, buried to the hilt, until both of us stopped trembling. When I finally pulled out, a thick strand of semen ran down the inside of her thigh. I ran my finger over it, collecting it, and brought it to her mouth. She sucked it off without opening her eyes.

***

The silence that followed was different from the one before. Quieter. More honest.

I untied her wrists first, then her ankles. Sofía didn’t speak for a few minutes. She stood there, moving slowly to get her circulation back, while I fetched a blanket from the bedroom and left it within her reach.

I helped her sit on the sofa. I brought her some water and sat beside her without saying anything. She drank half the glass, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.

—How are you feeling? —I asked.

—Good —she said. And then, after a pause: —Better than good.

We stayed silent for a while. Outside, the city kept going with its usual noises, completely unaware of what had happened inside here.

—I’ve spent two years treating you like that in front of everyone —Sofía said, without opening her eyes— because I was afraid you’d say yes.

—To what?

—To this.

I didn’t answer. It wasn’t necessary.

—Next time can I choose the flogger? —she asked, in a tone that was almost her usual one but not quite.

—You already have one —I said—. You chose it yourself.

Sofía smiled. It was the first time I’d seen her smile like that, without a second meaning, without the distance she always kept between herself and the rest of the world. As if she had finally stopped carrying something heavier than it looked.

—That’s true —she said.