Knowing the sorts of objects that live in the darkness of this space, he tenses slightly but doesn’t move away when I pull out a tangle of hemp rope. He offers me his wrists without being told. I bind them together in front of him, using a simple tie meant to remind him who’s in control and keep his sneaky fingers at bay. With his hands bound securely, I kiss my way along his body, watching his ass dance in the air again, begging for attention. Unable to resist any longer, I run my fingers in a soft tickle over the furry thing he presents, enjoying the reaction this elicits.
“You think that’s funny?” He stops mid-laugh to respond, but his words are stymied by my palm meeting his ass. The sound is shocking in the quiet of the room. I slap it again to ensure he’s paying attention, his exaggerated whimpers exciting me. Before I can spank him again, he has the impudence to taunt me by wiggling his behind. “Look at that naughty thing!”
I raise my hand, liking the way he tenses his cheeks in anticipation. Rather than follow through with the implied threat, I slide onto the bed to prop myself against the headboard and slip my legs underneath him. This time when he shakes his ass defiantly, I grab hold and deposit him into my lap. Given our size difference, it’s a fairly ridiculous situation; he isn’t in my lap so much as I am trapped under his bulk. Luckily, we both have a sense of humor when it comes to these matters.
He isn’t wiggling anymore, seeming to have been surprised into behaving. With him closer, it’s easier to hold him still with one hand and spank him rhythmically with the other, watching his behind redden. The noises he makes verge on dissent, but the hard cock that presses into my leg lets me know he enjoys the predicament.
“Someone seems to be having fun.” He raises his body to allow me to reach under him and gently take his cock in my hand. My palm is tender from the repeated sting of hitting him so that the smooth head of his member is like a balm to my tingling skin.
There is no disputing his erection, and yet he shakes his head. I laugh. “No?” He denies it again as I run my hand over his shaft, not giving him the luxury of any friction. “I don’t believe you.” He continues insisting to the contrary as I make my touch lighter, feeling his cockhead dance against me. “Then what is this?” I give it one good squeeze, enjoying his sigh and the disappointed noise that follows when I don’t continue.
“Nothing.” He mumbles, face buried in the sheets, bound hands clawing at the edge of the mattress to seek some kind of solace from my teasing.
“I don’t believe that, either.” I slap his behind with the hand that isn’t tormenting him, the one he hadn’t been paying any attention to. It surprises him enough that he looks at me over his shoulder with that lost puppy dog look, as if I’ve betrayed him. His pained expression opens up some part of me that wants to keep hurting him until he asks me to stop. I spank him several more times with one hand while the other just barely grazes the head of his cock.
I abruptly stop both actions. Feeling him so hard and moaning while using nothing but my hands to torment him is going to my head. “Did I give you permission to enjoy this so much?” Burying his face farther into the bed, he says no wordlessly, and I’m surprised at how small he can seem when bound and chastised.
I spit into my hand to wet the inside of my thighs, pulling him into my lap so that his cock slides into the moist crevice I’ve made for him. “Now, if you’re a good boy, I’ll only have to give you ten more. But, if you keep this up,” I squeeze his cock for emphasis, “I’ll have to assume you aren’t going to behave. Understand?”
He nods frantically and I can feel him using every fiber of willpower not to move his hips against the slippery place where I’ve trapped him. I wait to see if he can control himself. Only when he proves he can be still do I count aloud while applying the promised spanks. He does well until I get to the ninth firm slap to his already red behind. Just as I’m about to apply my hand the final time, I feel him buck against my thighs.
“Naughty!” I roll him off my lap so that his lovely hardness points in the air, looking so much like it’s about to burst I almost take him in my mouth, wanting so badly to see him get off and to taste him on my tongue. Somehow I find the willpower to resist, wondering if he knows: how much I want him, how difficult it is to continue being cruel, that I would rather get fucked than punish him.
While standing, I notice that the wetness on my thighs is no longer simply saliva. He watches as I run a finger through this mess, shaking my head disapprovingly before placing the finger in my mouth to taste the sticky business he left behind. This causes him to raise his hips and suck in a sharp breath, wanting to ask for a taste but not daring.
I tsk my tongue at his continued inability to behave, as I walk around the bed. “You naughty thing, you enjoyed that too much. We’ll have to find another way to teach you to follow instructions.”
His sweet face threatens to soften my resolve but I manage to stay strong, searching under the bed for more rope. This time I reach for thin cord, more akin to shoelace than anything useful for restraint. I crawl onto the bed to plant a thigh on either side of his face, holding my pussy purposefully just out of his reach, teasing him with the smell of what he can’t have. “Don’t you dare,” I remind him. I don’t even feign kindness as I kneel down closer to him. “See how wet hurting you makes me?”
A throaty and pathetic “Mm-hmm” passes his lips and I can tell he’s barely able to keep his mouth to himself. Reaching across his body, I wrap the tiny rope around his dick, making a snug tailor-made cock ring, finished off with a dainty little bow. It looks so much like a lovingly wrapped present that I can’t help leaning down to kiss the head sweetly just once. His moan makes me long to continue.
While he’s distracted, I lower myself onto his mouth. “Okay, you can make me come now.” He hesitates for only a moment before lapping at the wet folds of my pussy, his tongue not missing an inch, teasing and satisfying at equal turns, needing no instruction to bring me to the edge and back. He builds the electricity of my desire until it is a physical thrum in the room, making it nearly impossible to not grind myself into his face.
Even with his hands bound, he is able to reach far enough to grasp my ass, cupping it and squeezing. I want to ride the bliss of his tongue tickling me in the sweetest places as long as possible before giving myself over to it. He ruins all my plans of holding out by pushing my hips into his face and licking industriously at my clit. There is no way to pull away now as I ride the waves of endless orgasm, bucking against his face, grinding on his tongue as it flickers away, sending me over again and again. It’s an endless loop that he can maintain as long as he wishes. As long as he touches me, the live wire he has exposed will keep coming. This is his present for being so patient.
When I’ve had enough, I lift myself away from his reach. I lean in and kiss his messy face, tangling tongues with him to taste my own tanginess on his lips before whispering, “Thank you; such a good boy you are.”
I stroke his hair and caress his bearded face, reveling with him in this calm moment. As a treat I reach down to play with him, wetting my palm and rubbing it tenderly on the head of his bound cock until he is thrusting up into my hand, silently asking for more. Before he can get too invested in believing I’m finished with him, I stop.
“Do you want to be untied?” He shakes he head and looks at me coyly. “Naughty thing.” I smile, pleased, and reach for several more coils of hemp rope, resting them on his chest so that he can enjoy the weight and earthy smell of them until I’m ready to put them to use.
First, I carefully slide his glasses over his ears so that he can watch as I secure his bound wrists to the headboard with one of the lengths of rope, anchoring him to the center of the bed. I lean down to kiss him deeply, tasting myself again on his eager tongue. When I am able to pull myself away, I nibble my way down his body, only barely resisting the urge to suck him off as I pass by his belly.
Grabbing his ankle, I guide it to bend his knee so that I can tie his ankle to his thigh in
a frogged position. I wrap a long rope around the ankle and thigh followed by another line through that to secure it in place, applying the rope tenderly to contrast the tightness of the finished tie, which I tug to set the square knot in place. Repeating this tie on his other leg forces them to stay splayed apart, the rope keeping him from resting them on the bed. This exposes his cock and ass nicely.
As I look at how well secured he is, I notice him blush at the implications of how I’ve bound him. He watches with wide eyes as I buckle on my six-inch purple strap-on, tightening it around my waist and between my legs. “You’re going to use that on me?” he asks.
“If you ask nicely.”
His blush deepens as I lift myself onto the bed between his legs, so close that my rubber phallus touches his thigh, reminding him of its presence but not putting it to use quite yet. I tickle his thighs, enjoying watching him try to get them away from me even though they are so thoroughly bound. He laughs but doesn’t speak. I raise my eyebrow at him as a reminder that I’m waiting for him before I can continue. When he still doesn’t ask for what he wants, I decide to make it impossible for him to be silent, to tease him until he has to beg.
I lubricate one finger and use it to make lazy circles on his exposed asshole where it peeks out so demurely under his bound cock. He moans and tries to lean into my finger, which only motivates me to caress his opening even more slowly. His sounds of pleasure quickly become grunts of frustration.
“Can I help you?” He pouts but doesn’t speak. “I can’t give you what you want unless you tell me. Use your words.” I watch his cock twitch at attention as I slowly penetrate his ass with my slippery finger, holding it very still inside him. “Is that what you want?”
He nods his head furiously. “So just the one finger then? All right.” I begin twisting it around inside him, using a come-hither motion on his prostate, daring him to speak. All I get for my trouble is a frustrated grunt as he bucks his hips off the bed, trying to trick me into fucking him. “Oh, you want more?”
“Yes, please,” he pleads. I place a second finger in him but don’t move it either. He grunts and moves against me as best he can. “Please?”
“Please what?”
“Please...fuck me.”
“Such a nice boy to ask.” With my two fingers I begin penetrating him methodically, listening to him mumble nonsense. It isn’t long before he tries in vain to get into any position where he can move himself against me, not fully understanding that with his legs tied as they are he can’t get the leverage to do so.
“More.” He begs.
I slip another finger in and continue my glacial pace. He still groans, appearing to be in more pain from this game than he ever was from the spanking. “Is that what you wanted?”
“No,” he whimpers, and I remove my fingers. He widens his eyes, entreating and out of breath. His come is dribbling onto the pretty rope bow around the base of it, the sight of which makes me stroke my rubber cock, where he can see, luring him.
“Please? Oh, please.” It comes out of him as a mantra, again and again, as if the teasing has left him only these words.
I continue fondling the strap-on, making it so slippery it gleams, refusing to give in. “Please, what?”
He looks helpless as he struggles to find the words, knowing what he wants but fighting with the notion of asking for such a filthy thing. As he works up the bravery to speak, he struggles against the rope, trying to get free. He looks so sexy that I almost relent. Instead I graze his asshole with a single slippery finger to distract myself and give him some motivation.
Finally, gasping between words, he says, “Please...fuck me... with your cock.”
“Since you asked so nice.” I don’t hesitate to slide the strap-on gently into him an inch at a time, sighing at the sweetness of feeling his warm opening accept it. With his legs tied as they are, it takes only a palm on the inside of each thigh to hold them down and aside, exposing him completely. This doesn’t keep him from trying to wrap them around me, the struggle making thrusting into him fully now all the more enjoyable.
It’s a lovely sight watching my fake dick disappear into his ass over and over as I keep his thighs apart. When I have a steady pace going, I watch as instead of pushing his behind against me, he switches to furrowing his brow while making pained whimpers. His cock is straight in the air, dancing to the rhythm of my penetrating him and I can tell he’s trying very hard not to come yet.
“Are you going to make a mess for me?” His eyes lock on mine. He nods, wrinkling his face in concentration. His desire to behave is greater than his need to climax. I grin at him as he watches me reach for his cock and stroke it. It’s difficult to tell if he’s glad for the stimulation or can’t believe I’m being this mean to him. I feel him clench down on my rubber toy inside him. He makes animalistic noises as I continue fucking his ass and stroking his cock in the same tempo, unsure how he contains himself. I stop playing with his cock long enough to say, “Okay, be a good boy and come for me.”
He looks at me gratefully as I use my aching palm to rub circles around the ridge of his glans just the way he likes. I plant my strap-on inside him so I can focus on rubbing his neglected cock. It isn’t long before he shoots a pearly mess over his belly, giggling at the great relief after so much buildup.
His asshole relaxes around my dildo as he composes himself, his breathing going steady. As I lean down to begin untying him, I purposefully rest my belly in the sticky come that covers his furry belly and say, “You are such a good boy.”
TIGHT-ROPE WALKER
Tilly Hunter
“It was your idea, remember,” Jake said as we puffed up the hill with all the other Sunday afternoon ramblers.
“I know, but I didn’t quite realize how walking in it would make me feel.”
“Too late to change your mind now. Even if I was inclined to take it off, which I’m not, there’s nowhere secluded to do it.”
He was right. It had been my idea to climb the 1,335 feet of Wrekin, one of the most popular family strolls in England’s West Midlands while wearing a karada, a rope body harness. And there was indeed nowhere secluded where Jake could take it off me. We’d come out of the trees half a mile back and now the terrain was just bare stones and scrubby grass.
Jake had practiced the various harness possibilities several times since getting into the more intricate shibari bondage. But never before had I strode out for miles uphill while wearing it under my clothes, and I’d had no idea of how it would feel. No idea of the tantalizing but unsatisfying friction against my clit, the rawness as it rubbed the tender membranes of my pussy and ass, the difficulty taking the deep inhalations I needed against the rope around my chest and belly. It was deep discomfort of the kind I liked best.
“Stop a sec,” he said. I did so and he came up behind me just like any other amorous husband might do during a country walk with his beloved. “Maybe if I do this, it will help take your mind off it. Just until we get to the top, and then it’s all plain sailing downhill and home.” He grasped my wrists, pulled them behind me and linked the cuffs that were hidden between the sleeves of my fleece jacket and my thick woolen gloves.
I gasped and my body jerked involuntarily, pressing back into him. But my mind was rebelling. “You can’t do that with all these people around. It’s going to be bloody obvious. I might see someone I know, for god’s sake.”
“While I was walking behind you, I noticed you often clasp your hands behind your back on the steeper sections anyway. No one is going to see a thing.” He had his arms around me now and I instinctively leaned my head back against his shoulder, baring the side of my neck for a kiss or a nip. But my neck was wrapped in a scarf, to hide my collar, and Jake neither kissed nor nipped. He just whispered in my ear, “So shut the fuck up and walk or I’ll make you keep it on all day. And you can suck me off when we get home with no relief for yourself.” He was joking. At least, I think he was joking. But sometimes he surprises me.
I walked. I grabbed one wrist in the other hand to make it look like I was indeed just clasping them behind my back to balance the forward-leaning posture as I struggled uphill. The rope ran from its central point, lying between my shoulder blades, over my shoulders to a knot at my chest. Its double length, knotted twice more, passed over my belly and pubic mound, snug between my legs and back up to its starting point.
So far so simple. But then Jake had done the beautiful diamond pattern he now knew so well. The rope ends wrapped under my armpits and through the two strands just above that knot at my chest. From there they parted again to pass over the tops of my breasts, thread through the loop at my shoulder blades and back to the front. All the way down my torso they threaded, hugging my breasts tight, wrapping my waist tight. Each pass pulled the downward strands between my legs a little more snugly into my pussy. I knew I had made those sections of rope wet.
I wasn’t yet sure whether I regretted having the idea. It was now January, and it had already seemed a long and cold winter. The thing was, Jake and I had discovered the delights of outdoor sex and bondage the previous summer. Or rather, I’d finally revealed to him what my imagination got up to while we were cozy in bed, and he’d reacted with enthusiasm. He’d tied me to the trunks of trees, strung me up from branches, spread-eagled me on the earth with tent pegs, even hog-tied me in the shallows of a secluded beach where each incoming wave had made me gasp and splutter for breath. He had enough sense to do it while the tide was going out. But autumn had come, temperatures had dropped and we hadn’t been out for our fun and games for months.
“Why don’t you tie me into a harness I can hide under my clothes while we go out for a walk?” I’d said to him earlier that week, fed up with waiting for gray January skies to clear and the warmth of the sun to return. “You could even put on my collar and cuffs. If I wear a scarf and gloves, no one will see a thing. But it will make me horny as hell all the time we’re walking. And then it will be there, ready, when we get home again.”
Best Bondage Erotica 2014 Page 14