Rochelle’s devious and dominant boyfriend sends her on a sexual shopping spree that culminates in an orgasmic ending.

Some dominants delight their subs with whips and chains. Others tease and torment with candle wax, paddles, floggers, and crops. Mine likes to exert his power over me in more subtle ways. Yes, we play with pain and pleasure, with dominance and submission. But even more important in our BDSM relationship is the complicated manner — the intricate puzzles — which he loves to explore. Colin often sets me on missions and punishes me or rewards me depending on how well I meet his various challenges. Because my heartthrob has a job that takes him on the road for weeks at a time, I’ve become accustomed to the fact that he’ll often communicate with me via good, old-fashioned mail. I may be the one woman in the world who gets wet while waiting for the post to arrive.

A week before Valentine’s Day, I received a bright fuchsia envelope. The note stood out among the rest of the standard flotsam and jetsam of magazines and junk mail. As soon as I saw the pink paper peeking out from behind a flyer for a quick lube job, I felt excitement building inside me. I guessed that Colin must have mailed the note before he’d left on his latest business trip. At first, I thought the card would be a simple valentine. He must have wanted to be sure the message arrived on time. But when I opened the envelope, I realized that this was more than your average love letter.

The heart-shaped card looked slightly vintage, which is exactly my style. Colin knows me so well, and he understands my personal aesthetic. On the red interior was a poem written in his own handwriting. No “roses are red” for my man. His kink shone brightly from the page:

“February 14th comes once a year. I expect to see you in something sheer.”

“I was dripping wet, making those panties as damp as he’d requested in the rhyme.”

Along with the valentine was a gift certificate for my favorite lingerie store. I felt the smile spread across my face. Colin had been with me to that store on many happy occasions. He understands how much I enjoy shopping for frilly items, so he’d set me on a task that he knew would bring me hours of delight. What girl wouldn’t love to go lingerie shopping? I didn’t waste any time. I headed directly to the boutique, already imagining the type of attire I might purchase. Maybe I’d find a skimpy teddy or possibly tap pants and a camisole. Once at the store, I took my time choosing something I thought Colin would appreciate. He likes sleek and sophisticated styles in the bedroom. There were so many things to choose from! After trying on a variety of items, I found a black negligee I adored. It was entirely see-through and would fulfill Colin’s expectations. I purchased a pair of matching thigh-high stockings to go with the delicate nightie.

He and I were scheduled to talk on the computer that night. Part of me wanted to show Colin what I’d bought. Sometimes I dazzle him before bed with frisky webcam fashion shows. I envisioned myself twirling for him, lifting the gossamer-thin fabric so that he could peek beneath. Or maybe pulling the nightie tight against my nude body and feeling his warm gaze on me through the sheer attire. We were going to talk at eight o’clock my time, but I knew better than to make the fashion-show suggestion myself. He’d told me what he wanted. He’d tell me when he was ready to see my obedience in action. So I didn’t mention the card that had arrived, nor my shopping spree, and he didn’t say a word about the upcoming holiday, either. He simply talked about the meetings he’d attended, and he told me that he missed me. The feeling was more than mutual.

I didn’t expect anything else, to be honest. The nightgown was hanging on the back of my closet, as a reminder of how I’d dress upon his return. But the next day, when the postman dropped the mail through the slot, I received another card. My heart beat at triple speed as I tore open the envelope. Colin was definitely spoiling me this year! What would he ask of me next?

This card was ringed in lace. On the back, in silver ink, my beau had penned:

“Although I love to see you kneel, make sure you’re wearing a pair of heels.”

Shoe shopping! He was asking me to go shoe shopping! Inside the envelope was another certificate, this time for a store in the heart of downtown. My sweet master has a major fetish for seeing me in the highest spiked heels. Even if I end up crawling across the floor to him, he tends to request that I wear a pair of heels the whole time. I’ve become incredibly adept at maneuvering in five- or even six-inch stilettos. Thinking of the nightie I’d bought, I decided I had a choice between black (to match) or red (in honor of the holiday). I’d head out first thing in the morning.

I went with scarlet, a towering pair of high heels that were super-glossy and put me at nearly six feet tall. Colin is 6’4", so I’d still be looking up at him. I walked around the shoe department in the heels, and I caught several of the women shoppers giving me sidelong glances. Did they think I looked slutty in my dangerous heels? Would they have been envious to know that the shoes were an early Valentine’s present from my boyfriend?

At home, I spread out my outfit and admired the way the items looked together. Colin was due to come home on Valentine’s Day. I still had nearly a week to wait. I wondered if he’d mind me masturbating while wearing the outfit. I was fairly sure he would, so I kept my hands to myself. When he called, I could ask. I could let him know my desires. Until then, I’d keep my libido in check.

This proved more difficult than I’d expected, however, because before Colin called the mail arrived. I tossed the magazines, the circulars, and the junk mail in a heap, searching for another envelope. I didn’t mean to be greedy, but he’d put me into a state of near-drooling anticipation. This one was pale pink. Inside was a card covered in rhinestones. Colin had written:

“I want your panties nice and damp. You’ll have to wear a special clamp.”

The words alone served to heat me up. I took the card into the living room and read the note again. A special clamp. My clit throbbed as if it knew the note had been written with it in mind.

In this envelope was a certificate for the local sex toy shop. Colin clearly meant that he wanted me to buy a clamp for my pussy. I was sure of that. It was an act he’d been hinting at for some time. Occasionally, Colin has put nipple clamps on me, a bejeweled set with a chain that dangles in between. I closed my eyes and remembered the way that felt, how he pinched my nipples first to make them erect before slipping on the clamps and fastening them tight. A jolt of electricity had shot through me. He’d kept the clamps on my tits while fucking me, and the orgasm I’d experienced had been one I’d felt in every fiber of my being. However, we’d never tried one directly on my clit before. Sure, Colin had pinched that hot little button between his fingers. He’d nipped at me from time to time, but this was going to be different.

Honestly, I was nervous about this next purchase. I went to the store and asked the girl behind the counter for help. She assisted me in choosing what she told me was her own personal favorite clamp on the market. She looked as if she meant every word, and I appreciated her candor. I used the card Colin had sent me to pay for the purchase. Then I went home and spread out all of the items on the bed. For some reason, the clamp was hard for me to ignore.

What would that feel like on my clit? Would he know if I tried it out? My mind began to work in rhyme. If you put that on your clit, he’ll make it hard to sit. I was sure he’d spank me if he found out I’d gotten ahead in our game. So I forced myself to go to bed that night without pleasuring myself, but I tossed and turned throughout the evening, and I don’t really think I got any sleep at all. In the morning, I had an email from Colin. This one was just as poetic as the missives he’d sent to date. It read:

“He used the paddle, but this time on my naked skin. I felt the sting of the wood.”

“In love, I believe, we’re the best of scholars. You’ll get an ‘A,’ if you buy a collar.”

For some reason, I hadn’t thought about checking the balance on the gift card for the sex toy store, and sure enough, there was still money available on the card. Back I went, and the same employee was working the cash register. She grinned at me as I found a collar that felt suitable, one that Colin would undoubtedly admire. I wondered if there would be more trips here. He was definitely putting me into a state of dreamy arousal for the upcoming event. I’d never experienced such serious foreplay before.

Waiting at home was another envelope. Before I tore it open, I tried to imagine what the next request would be. Rhyming has never been my forte. But I know what type of kink pleases my man. After I bend you across a saddle, you’ll soon feel the sting of my paddle? No. Not good enough. And we didn’t own a saddle. I laughed at my poor attempt to guess what might be forefront in my man’s mind. Lube? Did something rhyme with lube?

Still he managed to surprise me.

“Once I have you in the buff, you’ll definitely need a set of cuffs.”

The week went on like this until I had amassed the nightie, stockings, panties, heels, and the collar, cuffs and clamp, as well as a paddle and a vibrator. All I really needed now was Colin.

To my surprise, the postman didn’t bring an envelope on Saturday. There were no emails. No special texts telling me to take a picture (what rhymes with picture?) or shoot a video. Although I thought of the instructions myself: If you’re feeling kind of groovy, we could make a sexy movie. I was coming up with these on my own now on a regular basis, turning myself into a dirty, sexy poet.

Without a card advising me what to do, I gave in to my whims. He’d never know, I told myself. I’d put everything back into the respective bags when I was finished. I’d play the wide-eyed and innocent if he asked whether I’d gotten a head start. Yes, I finally decided to get dressed up in my new gear. I wouldn’t really be breaking any rules, I lied to myself reassuringly. I’d simply see what I looked like in the nightie and the heels, the collar, the…

As soon as I was dressed, things took a turn for the sexy. My body responded as if Colin was nearby, barking orders, issuing commands. In my mind, fantasy Colin told me to use the new vibrator — he’d been clever with that one, not rhyming vibrator itself but rhyming “toy” with “joy” — and ultimately I caved, melting before every last one of my desires. I lay back on my bed, legs spread and body primed. I ran the tip of the toy up and down my split, and I was in the very throes of passion when a noise broke through my reverie.

What was that?

The doorbell. It was the fucking doorbell! It couldn’t be Colin. He wasn’t due back until Valentine’s Day. Then I realized I had lost track. It wasn’t the 13th but the 14th. How had that happened? How had I managed to be so confused?

But Colin wasn’t the only person who ever rang my bell. I shouldn’t get myself into such a state. The door chime sounded again, and then there was a louder knock on the front door. I thought maybe the postman really was bringing me something. Perhaps I would need to sign for a package? I wasn’t dressed for visitors, though. Not in those shoes and that sheer attire. I tiptoed down the hall as well as I could in the heels. Cautiously, I peeked out the window, and there was Colin, suitcase at his side. I felt anticipation winging through my body as I opened the door. Then I remembered: I was wearing all the clothes! He’d know! My cheeks went as deep rose as the valentines he’d sent me.

I opened the door. There was a moment when he stared at me and I gazed back at him. Could he smell the scent of my musk in the air? Would he know that I’d only just climaxed on the tip of my new sex toy, the whole time imagining that the synthetic dick was his hot, hard cock, that I was stroking my plump and primed pussy for his pleasure, as well as my own?

Beautiful, blue-eyed Colin set his suitcase down and closed to the door behind him. To my relief, he smiled as he entered the hall. He didn’t appear surprised at all. In fact, he looked more amused than anything else. Still, I felt my heart fluttering in the cage of my chest.

“I see you’ve been preparing,” was all he said.

“Practicing,” I admitted. “I was dying to see how everything would look together.”

“Only look?” he teased.

“I came like a wild thing, crying out his name and squeezing his dick tight.”

“I couldn’t wait,” I confessed. I didn’t know how to say the words in order to make him understand. The excitement had been too much for me. I’d needed to feel the clamp, to try on the new panties, to hold the paddle. I’d wanted to experience everything, but of course, I had been fantasizing about him the whole time. I said as much to him, staring at the floor as I let him know that, yes, I’d even slid the clamp on my swollen clit.

“We’ll have to take care of that, won’t we?” Colin commented, as if he and I were part of a team dedicated to keeping me in line, to putting me in my place. I hung my head. I didn’t want to respond to his question; it wasn’t the type of query one can easily respond to, anyway. But I know Colin. I understood he’d expect me to agree with him.

Without a word, I headed to the bedroom and retrieved the paddle. This, I’d purchased in response to a rhyme about heat. I knew that’s what was going to happen now. Colin was going to heat my ass cheeks. He didn’t let me down. He brought me into the living room and bent me over his lap. Admiring my heart-shaped cheeks through the nightie, he let the paddle smack against my butt. I didn’t cry out at first. The nightie and the panties muffled the initial few blows. It was only when Colin pushed me aside and went looking for the rest of the presents did I take the opportunity to rub my smarting rear end and sigh. Colin had done what he always did, turned me on with the right amount of pain to spark a flood of pleasure. I was dripping wet, making those panties as damp as he’d requested in the rhyme.

When he returned, he had all my remaining gear: the cuffs and the sex toy. Now we had everything. He told me how pleased he was that I’d followed his rules to a “T.” Then he undressed me and cuffed my wrists at my back. I was teetering in those high heels, collar in place, as Colin ran the tip of the vibe all over my skin. He said he’d manhandled himself in the hotel every night, imagining me shopping to please him, choosing the items he had in mind. “I saw you,” he said, “without seeing you, obviously. But I imagined you obeying, pictured you doing every last thing I requested.”

He sat and pulled me across his lap once more, situating me so that my clamped clit was pressed against his knee, and my body felt warm all over with electric shivers. I was on the cusp of coming, on the edge of ecstasy. The spanking — I knew he was going to give me a real spanking — would only intensify those sensations.

He used the paddle again, but this time on my naked skin. I felt the solid sting of the wood, the bite against my nude bottom. Colin verbally appreciated the changing hues the paddle brought to the surface of my skin: the blush pink, the deeper rose. He admired me, then bent and kissed my feverish flesh.

“That’s for starting without me,” he said, palming my hot globes. “But then, I can’t actually fault you when I couldn’t hold off either, can I?”

Well, yes, he could. Because he is the dominant and I am the submissive. I said as much, in the best way I was able, and he laughed because I had answered the question correctly.

He took the clamp off my clit, making a tsk sound, I guessed because I was the one to put it on rather than him. Yet he seemed to appreciate my story of how I’d bought the device; the fact that I’d asked the saleslady for her opinion clearly delighted him. In fact, he wanted me to tell him all of my experiences, how the women had shot me slightly evil glances as I’d paraded in the towering high heels, how I’d become something of a regular the past few days at the local sex toy store. Every part of my stories turned him, but none so much as the final one.

“I didn’t realize you would be coming home early,” I said. My voice sounded sultry and slightly sheepish simultaneously.

“I figured that out myself,” Colin said, gently stroking my hot ass as a reminder of my recent punishment.

“But I wanted to see what I would look like, to know how everything would feel.”

“How did it feel?” he asked.

“Nothing like being with you,” I told him. “I can pretend, but it’s not the same.”

“Tell me why.”

“Because you make it all connect.” That was the truth. He’d sent me on a sexual scavenger hunt for the individual pieces. But he had been the missing element. I’d needed his stern voice, his total control, his sensual commands to take me over the top.

Colin cradled me against him. I felt how hard my words had made him. He gave me the final reward of the night, stripping and then thrusting his rigid rod inside my slippery hole, giving me that thick, hard dick as the icing on my cake, the lace on my valentine.

When I was on the cusp, he grabbed the discarded vibrator and ran that over my clit as he pummeled me. I came like a wild thing, crying out his name and squeezing his dick so tight with my inner muscles that he climaxed with me. I don’t know if he’d been trying to hold on, to hold out, but he bellowed his bliss as he filled me up.

Then we were finally satiated — satisfied and relieved. All the effort, all the items, the rhymes and schemes, had been worth every second. I couldn’t remember having felt this loved before. Colin knew me inside and out.

“What was your favorite present?” he asked as I lay, near purring, in his arms. I thought for only a second, the answer springing to my lips. “You,” I said. “You’re the best Valentine’s Day gift any girl could ever hope for.”

“Good answer,” he said, as he bent to kiss me. We were like two parts of a paper heart, intimately connected, forever entwined.