Jan 182016
 

“I love you, I just want you to know that,” he told me, a lopsided grin on his face.

My first clue I probably wouldn’t like him soon. Just so he was aware beforehand, in case I changed my mind, I responded, “I love you too.”

And then commenced the rope tying. My legs were tied tightly, with the ankle to the thigh on each leg. He spread my legs as far apart as he could, and strung rope from the right spread knee around the bottom post, up to my stomach, rested it freely and shifted back down the left post and left knee. The rope in the middle puzzled me. Then my wrists were bound together above my head. Reaching out of my sight, he came back with the nipple clamps. He rested the cold chain between my legs for just a second, moved it up to one nipple, slowly to increase the anticipation of the bite, and then strung the chain through the rope on my stomach before attaching the other nipple. The chain between the rope at my stomach kept the tension on the clamps pulled at my nipples (as if the bite of them wasn’t enough sensation).

“Put your legs together,” he commanded.

I did, cautiously, tentatively, and as my knees swiveled up to be together, the rope down the center of my stomach tightened. I only stirred about halfway up, realized how badly the clamps were now pulling at my nipples.

“Clever,” I whispered, parted my legs.

He chuckled. “Now to get some movement from you,” he said, and slapped between my lips. My legs instinctively went up to shield my stinging sex, but didn’t quite make it all the way, as the aching pull on my nipples overrode before they could fully shut. But the sudden movement of my legs sent a sharp bite into my nipples that then felt like it traveled like electricity to my throbbing sex. He chuckled again, and then slapped more lightly, gradually worked me up to the sting and pain that again had me instinctively attempting to close my legs. About halfway up my knees would jerk, and then slam down as quickly as I could to relieve the nipple torment that I inflicted on myself.

He fingered me, appeased me with words and pleasure. And then chuckled again as he pulled out the wand. I groaned and tried to mentally brace myself to keep my legs spread. He at least started it on low, and gradually worked his way to the highest setting, but still, my legs would tense and rotate up about halfway, and then tentatively lower.

It was a mental will versus a physical one. As a battle, it was pretty damned equal on both sides.

I couldn’t arch to relieve the nipple wrenching, my bound wrists wouldn’t allow that.

“All done,” he soothed after he deemed I had enough. He untied the rope around the posts, tugged at it every so often and pulled the clamps before removing them. My nipples suddenly seared with tenderness when released, and while the bite of them was painful at times, now they felt like tiny pinpricks of torment that I fixated on. His mouth and tongue flicked across one, and then other, gossamer touches that soothed and pooled pleasure between my legs.

When I stopped whimpering, he positioned himself up and pushed his stiff cock in my mouth. I opened as much as I could, and he slowly eased himself to the back of my throat. I relaxed and he was able to push further than he normally does without me making noise.

“Oh really?” he sounded pleasantly surprised above me, and his hand caressed the side of my face. “So proud.” If I had more room, I would have smiled around his shaft. He pumped himself in and out of my mouth for a while, and then withdrew. “That deserves a reward. What do you want?”

I beamed. “I don’t know,” my brain felt a bit foggy, and I’m sure I wanted something. “You.”

“You’ll get me,” he promised, “but what do you want?” I thought, unsuccessfully. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you time to think,” and he was back in my mouth, hitting my throat.

After a few more minutes, when he withdrew, I asked for oral sex. He lifted up my hips and placed a pillow under them, and I felt his tongue dive between my soaked folds, his mouth sucked at my lips. It was but a brief moment before I climaxed against his mouth.

He positioned himself on his knees and entered me, slid deeply in with no resistance. “I love these ropes,” he said as he gripped the rope still wrapped around my legs, keeping them tightly bound. He used them to pull me against his hips as he thrusted in, and I couldn’t arch or use them to moderate how deeply he went. And he went deep, hitting the wall inside my body from time to time.

He leaned forward after I orgasmed a few times, and whispered, “I don’t think I’m going to cum in this hole. I think I want a different hole,” he tapped my mouth.

I nodded. This was new. He untied my legs and I stretched them in the brief moment before he straddled my head, wove his fingers into my hair and situated himself at my mouth. He pushed against my throat roughly, and began the pace of fucking my mouth. He wasn’t kidding around, he moved at a tempo that gets him off. He moved to the side of my head and tried a different position, eased even further and I choked.

“Stop,” he demanded, a hand going lightly to my neck. “I don’t care, deal with it, I’m cumming this way.” He kept at the pace, didn’t stop or slow down even when I choked once, then two more times. My mouth was simply a hole he was fucking. I heard him groan, felt his shaft swell and harden even further, and felt so humbled, so grateful, so proud that I didn’t have to stop him so he could please himself in this way.

After he came, he stroked the side of my face, brushed back tears, told me how beautiful I was as he untied my wrists. He fingered me to a slow orgasm. Before he could cuddle me into his chest, I requested a washcloth as I felt the drool puddled on one cheek and hair. He brought me back a warm washcloth and helped clean my face. He held me tightly against his body and we checked in with how the other was feeling.

When my body relaxed to the point of semi-consciousness, he carried me into the shower and we washed my hair, where he also brought me to another couple of gentle orgasms.

It was amazing; sometimes there are no words to express it any more eloquently than that.

 Posted by at 6:38 am

  5 Responses to “Spread Legs and Open Mouth”

  1. Mmm, yes. That clamped and bound position sounds both difficult and hot.

  2. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath (or squirming) until it was over. Damn, damn, damn that was hot. You gave me the shivers (the good kind). šŸ˜‰

  3. That was unbelievably, fucking hot. Just…wow. You paint an eloquent word picture…and now I’m all needy myself!

    Wonderful post m’dear!!

    nilla

  4. This was perfect. My husband and I are trying to find our way to something just like this. You really captured the truth of what married intimacy can look like. So many stories ignore the personalities and real connection people can have, and seeing both your play and love for each other, the underlying respect of slowly growing your boundaries together is really wonderful.

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