Bound for Trouble

by Alison Tyler

  Ah, that’s the reason I love him in spite of everything. He’s such a reasonable kind of guy. He made it sound like the perfect solution, easiest thing in the world for me to do a 180-degree switch in my psyche.

  “Just don’t be going near my ass,” he added.

  “Um, okay.”

  So that’s how I found myself sitting on the end of the bed with Rob tied in the position I’d been in. I’d been very careful with him, following the book’s advice: Most men are not as flexible as women and may find this position difficult to hold for any period of time. This can be alleviated by attaching the restraints above the knees instead of to the ankles to allow the legs to bend farther. Not that I had the book out and open at that page. I’d prepared earlier, deciding what to do, and put the book back on the shelf. I noted with annoyance that he had no rolls of flab, just a slight fold across the belly button.

  “Comfy?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t say that. But I’m okay for now.”

  “Enjoying it?”

  “Pass.”

  I ran my fingernails down the tender back of his thigh and he squirmed. I did it harder. I’d expected red marks straight away, but it wasn’t until I’d been raking his skin for a couple of minutes that it began to redden. I brushed my nails lightly up the underside of his still-limp cock, making it jerk. Bending my mouth to it, I tongued it inside, sucking as it hardened and swirling my tongue around the head as it emerged from his foreskin. He moaned and I drew back, letting his now-hard shaft drop from my lips.

  “You seem to be getting aroused darling,” I said.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Is that because of, or in spite of, the fact that you’re tied up?”

  “In spite of. I think. My thighs ache.”

  “Oh, poor you. You’ll just have to be a man and take it, I’m afraid. There’s no way I’m letting you go just yet now that I have you here all helpless and vulnerable.” I really did feel a visceral stab of power go through my torso and into my cunt. I wanted to toy with him and tease him and use his body for my own amusement. It made me wish I’d tied him in a position in which I could fuck him, or at least get my pussy to his mouth.

  “I’m going to blindfold you.” I drew the elastic bands of the blindfold over his head and positioned it. “Can you see anything?”

  “No.”

  “Not even down here?” I waved my hands down low along the sightline of his nose.

  “No, not anywhere.” I guessed his nose was a different shape than mine. Maybe it was that old football injury that squashed it a bit. I leaned in between his knees and kissed his mouth. He didn’t expect it and didn’t pucker up to meet me until I’d already pressed my lips to his. It made me smile to see him still reaching his face up to me as I moved away. He groaned as he let his head fall back on the pillow.

  I tongued his cock again, just enough to keep him hard. I wanted him to enjoy himself. Partly so he wouldn’t call a halt to the whole thing and partly to try to show him how pleasurable this could be, how good he could make me feel when the roles switched again. But he had to feel the paddle too. To gain an understanding of the instrument, as the book put it, and realize the difference between a palm and an inanimate object that never grew hot and stinging and tired.

  I brought it to his lips, then turned it to push the end into his mouth. He whimpered and pressed his head back into the pillow, but I thrust it in farther, not letting him get away. “Suck it,” I said. He stopped fighting and formed his lips around it. It was an awkward shape and his sucking gave off messy, slurping noises. It made my pussy pulse.

  I drew it out and again he tried to follow it with his lips to the point where his shoulders would go no farther against the bonds. I brought it down on his asscheek, hard. He gasped and jerked. “This is just the beginning, honey,” I said. “You can take a lot more than that.”

  I paddled the same spot, building up a rapid rhythm. I figured he was the kind of guy who would like a pattern to the blows, a beat he could prepare for mentally. I could have toyed with him more. Switching sides, rubbing the paddle’s soft surface against him and beating him unexpectedly. But I’d reached a point where I was really worried he was going to tell me to stop. We hadn’t taken the book’s advice. Chapter One: Safety and Preparation. Page One: Safewords. This was just practice. Rob was not my submissive. If he said “stop” it meant “stop.”

  My imagination wandered as I beat him and his butt started to glow. He was moaning, but it sounded more like arousal than pain. His ass was on display and the position parted his cheeks, showing me his dark hole. I’d never wanted to invade it before, but there it was and it clenched as he tensed his pelvic muscles with each blow. The passage from the book ran through my mind, The Dominant may also be able to perform intercourse, either vaginal or anal. There was a whole chapter on anal later. I’d been drawn to the discussion of butt plug sizes—Too small, large and too large, it joked. I wouldn’t go against his wishes on something like this, but part of me wanted to thrust at least a finger in there.

  His moans were rising in pitch and he was starting to pull on the restraints. I stopped paddling him before he had to ask me to. This wasn’t about him begging for mercy because it was too much; it was about taking him to a place where it was still pleasurable.

  I ran my fingers over his tender flesh and he gasped at the change of sensation. I grasped his shaft and pumped it in my hand, making sure the tingle in his skin would be associated with pleasure for his cock. He fought against the ropes holding his knees in place to thrust his hips in time to my hand. When I licked the tip of his cock as I stroked, he started groaning with every breath. I noted with amusement how tightly clenched his fingers were around the bars of the headboard. I could get into this. I wondered if Rob could get into this. If, perhaps, he was already getting into this.

  “I’m going to gag you now, just so you can get a feel for it,” I said. “Just for a moment, then I’ll take it off, okay?”

  “Okay.” His voice was low and breathy.

  He opened his mouth when he felt the ball at his lips, and I fastened it snugly but not too tightly. He could probably have pushed it out, but I didn’t want to give him jaw ache. Not in the way it had given me jaw ache. The way that I had relished. I went back to his cock and took it as deep into my mouth as I could, pumping my lips over him and sucking him to the edge of coming. I liked the way his moans had changed, the gag muffling them and making them all throaty.

  Licking off the tip of his cock, I asked, ever considerate, “Would you like me to take the gag back off again now?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. Then he shook his head.

  “No?” I said, surprised.

  He shook his head again and grunted as close to the word, “No,” as it allowed him.

  That shake of the head did something to me. It made me want to slide onto his cock and fuck him senseless. Instead, I plugged in the wand vibe and turned it on. He tensed as he heard it. I wondered what he thought. That I might leave him there while I made myself come? That I might shove it against his ass?

  I shifted his balls upward and pressed it to the base, against his perineum. He managed to squeeze out the word, “Fuck,” around the gag while his whole body bucked. The vibe was only on low. I held it there while I sucked his cock hard and deep. When his body relaxed and he started rocking to my rhythm, I edged the motor up a little. He was breathing hard but made no more attempts at speech. I could feel the vibrations through my mouth. It was a powerful little thing. His cock grew and hardened just before he pumped out the biggest load I have ever had to swallow.

  I took the gag out straightaway, but it was a while before he recovered his wits enough to speak. I removed the blindfold and he just gazed at me as I released his legs and untied his wrists. He let his limbs lie where they fell, making no attempt to move them for himself.

  “You seem to have got into that in the end,” I said, leaning over to kiss him and run a thumb up his jaw.


  He made a caveman grunt.

  “I want to sit on your face while you lick my clit until I come,” I added.

  “Mmm-huh.” It sounded positive, so I straddled his head and lowered my pussy onto his mouth.

  It took another bottle of Rioja before he put the experience into words.

  “I didn’t expect it to be like that,” he said. “I thought it was just a physical thing for me to feel what it was like to be tied up like that and spanked and played with. But it was so much more than that. You sucking my cock helped, obviously, but when you made me suck the paddle and then teased about whether I could take the spanking and how helpless I was, I…well all I can say is it really turned me on.”

  “It turned me on too, seeing you like that and having you at my mercy. I think I could be a lot more wicked, given the chance.”

  “You see, even that, you saying that now, you’ve made my cock twitch.”

  “This is an unexpected result,” I said. “Are we going to have to take it in turns to be tied up?”

  “I think we might have to. And, oh god, I don’t quite know how to say this. I’m scaring myself. You know what I said about not going near my ass?”

  “Yes.” I raised an eyebrow.

  “When I was tied with my legs up like that and my ass was all open and exposed and every now and again your fingers would brush past my crack or I felt the draft from the paddle across it…I liked it. Do you think maybe you could push a finger in sometime, just as an experiment?”

  Hell yes. I felt my throat tighten just to hear him confess this and to imagine the prospect of entering his body. “Yes,” I said. “I think I could try that. Perhaps we should both reread Chapter Eight. But remember, it’s my turn next.”

  “It is,” he said. “And I already have a few ideas. I’m going to check over Chapter Six first.”

  I knew Chapter Eight: Anal Training. But I had to run upstairs and pull the book off the shelf to remind myself of Chapter Six: Collars and Clamps.

  SEX PARTY MAGIC

  Kristy Lin Billuni

  You look perfect. Daddy has surprises for you.”

  Ceci and Eddie kissed their first really girlfriendy kiss, the romantic greeting of lovers who expect to be kissed, when Eddie arrived Wednesday evening in a black T-shirt and black jeans. She carried a small black duffel and had buzzed Ceci from the street. They now stood in her doorway, Eddie’s smile bursting.

  “Come in, come in. Can I make you a drink?”

  “No, I want my wits about me. And you can stop drinking too.” Eddie removed a glass from Ceci’s hand.

  She shook that off but didn’t understand it. Weren’t they going out to play? “So this is my place. Oh, that’s right, you were up here already. Jeeze, I don’t even really remember that.”

  “I will never forget it.” Eddie glanced at Ceci’s tits and moved closer to run both hands up and down the sides of her torso. “Mmm…you dressed just as I wanted you.” Ceci wore her new black slip-dress, a matching slingshot panty, and black heels.

  Eddie looked down between their close bodies at Ceci’s feet. “Nice shoes.” She lifted Ceci’s skirt and approved the panties with a nod. She ran a thumb over each nipple, through the slip-dress’s thin fabric. She smiled at the rings she’d placed there and flipped one up and down again. A tiny zip shot through Ceci’s body.

  They kissed again. Eddie’s hands played with Ceci’s hair and settled on the crown of her head. She pressed her down in that quiet way that boys use to hint for a blow job. Ceci remembered it from high school and had sought it out in porn. Eddie conjured make-believe in the real world. Maybe she had caused this freakish San Francisco snowfall. Submission and snow—these things she thought she despised turned beautiful around Eddie.

  Ceci dropped with enthusiasm to her knees to face Eddie’s unbuttoned fly. When had she managed that? She wore boy undies—tighty-whities, Ceci had always called them.

  She looked up at Eddie for permission and then burrowed her nose into the opening. She nuzzled through cotton folds into fleshy ones and found Eddie’s cock—rather, the clitoris she wielded like a cock. First, Ceci flirted with it, rubbing her nose into the space between inner and outer labia, breathing Eddie’s musk.

  Ceci realized the girth of it when she finally encircled Eddie’s clit with her tongue. She let the whole thing swell in her mouth, sucked it, and pulled her lips from base to tip, up and down the shaft. She sucked Eddie’s inner labia into her mouth too, adding padding and friction, length and width. Eddie’s grip tightened in her hair, and Ceci smiled to herself.

  This was old-fashioned butch-femme dyke sex. Eddie wasn’t that much older than her, but she embodied a queer aesthetic that Ceci hadn’t seen around in a long time. Were all the old-school butches taking testosterone these days?

  Eddie fucked her face now, pushing deeper into her mouth. Ceci opened wider and felt the swollen clit strain toward her uvula. Eddie moaned and pressed hard on the back of Ceci’s head, hips thrusting forward. Ceci reached out her tongue and lapped at Eddie’s sopping cunt, testing the boundary for penetration. She wanted to get a finger in there.

  Eddie’s pelvis settled into Ceci’s wide-open mouth, demanding deeper tongue and shoving her erect clit toward Ceci’s throat. Ceci lifted her hand; one finger, two slipped easily into Eddie’s hole and found her G-spot, throbbing and soggy. She tightened her lips around the clit and concentrated her sucking there while she pumped two fingers against the inner wall of Eddie’s pussy. It gripped her fingers with a tight, insistent rhythm.

  It didn’t take long. She rocked her hips against Ceci’s face while hot liquid flooded her wrist, her face and her tits. Eddie crumpled to the floor in front of Ceci. Ceci sat back and leaned on her arms, Eddie’s cum smeared across her face. They smiled at each other.

  “Didn’t muss your dress too much did I, baby?”

  Ceci inspected the clear liquid stain on the slip’s scoop neck. “Just enough for me to smell you all night.”

  “Good. Do you have a good coat?” Eddie stood, buttoning her fly, all business again.

  Exhilaration held Ceci behind Eddie on the bike. She squeezed Eddie, embracing her trim, boxy, leathered chest and pressing her cheek against her muscled shoulder. They sped down Hyde Street and across Market, passing the Pussycat Lounge in a blur. SoMa streets buzzed, even on a Wednesday night, with club kids queued around the perimeter of warehouses and leather men smoking outside black-painted bar fronts.

  They whipped past the black-painted, wooden façade of a corner bar, where the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence glittered outside, huge sequined eyebrows arched, ostentatious habits flapping, collecting donations and stamping the arms of furry bear fags.

  Ceci had heard of The House, a private home reputed for its sex parties and fully functioning dungeon. She even knew which Dolores Park Victorian hosted the infamous parties, so when Eddie parked on the sidewalk in front of it, her heart fluttered.

  She hopped off the bike and wedged her skull out of the helmet. Eddie removed her black duffel from the bike’s saddlebags and locked the helmets to the bike. She placed a hand on Ceci’s wrist, stopping her from heading toward the house. “Follow me.”

  She liked the way Eddie’s rough hand gripped her wrist, but she surprised Ceci by leading them to cross away from The House. A little alley jutted toward Market from the other side of the street. The homes that lined it looked expensive. Eddie pulled her around its first curve, out of the streetlamp’s reach, and whispered, “Turn around.”

  Ceci’s breath quickened. If Eddie fucked her here, some onlooker might call the police or something. She felt Eddie’s body against her backside, and her arms reached around Ceci’s body to her throat. Then Eddie kissed her shoulder, using her chin to move the coat’s furry collar out of the way, and wrapped a leather strap across her Adam’s apple. She heard a click, and Eddie checked the collar’s snug fit.

  “This is your collar. You’ll wear it when we play.” Eddie breathed gravity
into the moment, rested her hand on Ceci’s head, and corrected her to bow it. “Now, let’s go to the party.”

  In the white light of the foyer, Ceci saw the tiny chain and key around Eddie’s neck and touched the nape of her own to discover that she was indeed padlocked, with a tiny lock and clasp, into her collar.

  She realized she felt safe in this predicament. Eddie took her responsibility as a top so seriously, but would she ever actually get to know the real Eddie—outside of this game?

  Two friendly women, dressed garishly in satin corsets and long velvet dresses, ample bosoms spilling everywhere, greeted them and took their coats. The next room had two long tables with plates of food and plastic party cups. Eddie drove Ceci through this and the next room—full of men in black shirts and no pants—and out to a back porch, candlelit with a hot tub full of revelers. They skirted the splashing, chlorinated sexual soup and descended wooden stairs into the dungeon.

  Ceci had never seen anything like it—all this effort for adult play, for sex. Every wall featured a different structure, furniture she half recognized from wandering at the Folsom Street Fair last fall. A sling swung empty on one wall. A nude woman hung listless on a black, wooden X-shaped cross facing the other wall. Her pinkened back contrasted with her smooth, white shoulders, neck and legs. A man stood a few feet behind her with a heavy-looking leather whip. Beside the door they had just come through stood a sort of construction worker’s sawhorse, painted black. Two women, dressed in lacy black and burgundy as if for the midnight Rocky Horror Picture Show, straddled it, giggling and kissing.

  Another horse-thing, bigger, like in men’s gymnastics but padded with black leather, stood perpendicular to the opposite wall. A man in boxer shorts and leather wrist restraints slumped alone on it, cock in hand, watching the giggling girls.

  They breezed through this room too and into a mazelike make-believe sexual playground. A basement room with extra walls and the sawdusty scent of new construction wound around several corners, each wall with another plaything, a kitchenette where two women prepared piercing needles, another cross just like the first one, and a cage. It was early, and the party, no doubt, was just getting started, but Ceci noticed over Eddie’s shoulder that they’d picked up an audience.