Midsummer

A walled garden, fragrant with nighttime blooms. She was to wait by the statue in her kimono, barefoot.
She heard the key in the lock of the iron gate and her breath caught, suddenly anxious. He strode towards her, slowly, a strong silhouette in the pre dawn half light. She remembered to look down just in time; Sir found a direct gaze to be insolent, and she did not wish to be punished. Bruises to her thighs would be hard to explain at the beach.
He disrobed her swiftly, hanging the silken garment upon the statue's outstretched marble arm, before grabbing her by the hair and leading her to a nearby oak. He nudged her backwards, his hands on her hips, until she was pressed against the trunk. Goosebumps betrayed her excitement as she heard Sir snap open the locks of his toy box.
First came the collar of cool silver links, heavy on her throat and fastened with a smooth, worn padlock. Then came the clamps, sweet agony upon her hardened nipples. Finally, the rope upon her wrists and ankles. Arms above her head, legs spread, bound against the ancient oak, she felt calm and eager simultaneously, as Sir readied his camera.
Blinded by the flash of a dozen shots, she felt him before she was ready for him, and cried out. This earned her a stinging slap to the jaw as he buried his formidable cock deep within her. His teeth sunk into her soft breast, drawing blood, as his hands gripped her neck. She was wet, throbbing, dangerously close to the crisis, but he denied her, as he thrust with greater urgency.
He cradled her face as he came, filling her with warmth. As she panted desperately against his palm, he chuckled, and relented. "Now" he said, and she melted against him, the orgasm bringing tears to her eyes. Writhing in ecstasy against her restraints, she spied the sun rising above the stone wall. As her heart rate slowed, Sir released her and wrapped her in her kimono once again. He pulled her to him and kissed her hair. "Good girl" he said, as the sun warmed their faces.