Yeah, I wouldn’t be a happy bunny, either, so as much as he could have led me gently into this whole new world, I understand why he didn’t. The pain in and of itself...every day, even though he’s improving and the infection has now cleared up, his suffering is etching its way on to his face. The lines on both sides of his mouth, once slight, but now they’re thick brackets. I did that. Me. So yeah, I can forgive him for scaring me a little, especially now he’s softened up and returning to the Nate I know of old, but one with a strong streak that has my knees quivering.
And many other bits in between.
How long have I been strapped up like this? In a kinky version of the yoga asana, bow?
About forty minutes. I’m not in an uncomfortable position; I’m just very exposed.
The rope I found in the box is stuff that porn films are made of. Plaited hemp rope that constrains and binds but is flexible too. My ankles are tied together with three loops of the rope around each foot and then bound in the middle. I don’t know the terminology, but think of a hangman’s noose. That long, thin partition of coiled rope before the noose is what separates my feet, but my ankles are crossed so that my thighs are spread. The thick rope rests between my butt cheeks, and I can feel the prickles of the fabric tickling my skin and the pucker of my ass. It connects my feet to my hands, which are bound behind my back and my wrists are tied together. My belly is on the mattress, a small vibrator is buzzing away inside my spread, pussy lips, and I think if I’m not touched soon, I might just scream.
He’s here, watching. I think if I’d been alone, I would have screamed out of fright. This is the first time he’s restrained me like this. Tying me to the bed is one thing, but this is a lot more in-depth and very much bondage.
My breath is a hop, skip, and a jump away from panicked inhalations and exhalations, but knowing he’s here, calms me down. It’s strange how his presence changes all of my perceptions and soothes me. Trust. I’ve never felt it to this degree. When I signed that contract, stating that I was putting myself into his safe-keeping, I know that to be the truth and I could not have agreed to that with any other man.
It’s peculiar being on the borderline of panicked yet relaxed, frustrated yet satiated. It’s a world of contrasts. While my pussy is literally weeping with the need to climax, my brain is humming in satisfaction. Why? My Sir’s attention is entirely on me, exactly where I like it. I can’t move, I’m his to play with, to toy with and to enjoy. It’s thrilling to be in such a strong man’s sights and know that nothing is intruding upon his mind. Nothing but thoughts of what he’s going to do to me.
It’s one of the most intense experiences of my life and even if the vibrator hadn’t been set to drive me nuts, I think there would still be a wet patch underneath me on the sheets.
Yoga taught me patience, even if the body is contorted and fixed in uncomfortable positions, so a part of me can relax with ease and just listen and wait. As I do just that, I hear him moving about and while I’d like to know what he’s doing, curiosity is a failing of mine, I just stay in the pose. Whatever it is, I trust him and my pussy is ready for it.
I haven’t actually misbehaved. Or, that is to say, I was punished this afternoon for talking back. This is for play so I’m praying that there is light or should I say release at the end of the tunnel.
Shoving the thought out of my mind, something that Sir inadvertently helps me do thanks to the touch of his hand on my butt; I return my attention to him. The brush of his fingers over the sensitive flesh of my spanked ass has me trembling a little and then, I feel something... The bonds at my butt being tugged away. The rope dissecting my ass is shifted, my feet are pulled back so they’re no longer resting close to my butt and a cold, metallic nodule slips down over my bared rosette and between my fiery hot lips. I shudder, there’s no way I can contain it. The cold metal is probably room temperature but against such heat, it might as well be ice.
The nodule moves up and down, nudging my clit and making it sit up and take notice, slipping along the outer lips of my sex and the tip slips into the entrance of my body, prodding the bullet a little further into my depths. The buzz spreads to the larger nodule, doubling the surface vibration and my legs tense in reaction, urging my hips up off the bed as the shock reverberates around my system. I cry out and hear his chuckle as he continues to swirl the nodule through my copious juices and then, it slides up and prods the pucker of my ass. Gently but firmly, he presses it into the pucker until the tip is in. It’s only as my butt registers the width of the remaining excess that I whimper a little.
Nate must have heard my nervousness, because he murmurs, “It’s no wider than my cock, princess.”
He’s started to call me that. I don’t know where the hell it came from, but I like it. I don’t want to be called Marina here, just like Nate is Sir. I can’t explain it. It makes me feel special, important, but at the same time beneath him.
Kneeling behind me, he lowers himself down and presses against my side. I’m so glad his bionic hand exists, as he can use his real one to touch me and embrace me while the other does the business, as it is. There’s nothing, I’m learning, more important than touch. Skin to skin contact.
Pressed against him, his hand rubbing up and down my spine, I turn my head to look at him. His eyes are drenched with lust; the blue in his hazel eyes is prominent. A cold fire burns in their depths. I notice this in the two seconds I glance at him, before lowering my eyes to his mouth. My own lips tremble with the need to kiss and he recognizes that, because he leans over and drops the lightest peck on my mouth.
That slight kiss acts like an earthquake as controlled need suddenly explodes out of its container. I want to eat his lips, to have him tongue fuck my mouth. I pull back, knowing if we stay close I’ll do something he’ll punish me for, and despite myself, I find I can live within the constraints of his rules so long as I’m not a washed out version of myself. I don’t want him to punish me, I want this. To connect to fulfill a need. Not because I’ve misbehaved.
So even though it hurts, I back away and push my head to the mattress again. My eyes close as his other hand continues to work the butt plug into my rosette. I’ve never felt anything like it. Wide, but sleek. Cold but warming from the slightest touch. Large but not discomforting and as my ass accepts the entire plug, the tab settles unobtrusively against the pucker.
The sleek steel is pushed against the bullet vibrator and the intense vibrations double in their strength once more. I bite down, taking the comforter into my mouth and chewing on the fabric. My legs strain and pull until cramps start to eat into the muscles from the force I’m exerting.
The instant I take the butt plug, Nate moves away and as my muscles start to protest being so fiercely clenched, I can feel his fingers working quickly at the ties of the ropes around my feet. Once free, my legs fall to the bed, still spread, but Nate’s fingers start to manipulate the muscles of my calves and work at the small knots gathering there. I’d rather he remove the butt plug but I don’t say anything ̶ I can’t. My mouth is full of bed sheet.
A tap to my butt has my hips jerking up, and as his hands work at the ties at my wrists, he orders, “Stop clenching your muscles.”
Yeah, that’s easier said than done, when it feels like my pussy is shuddering from the fierce vibrations oscillating around its tender walls.
I force my feet toward my shins, reversing the cramp and that stops the muscle spasms until my hands are free, and I’m being rolled over on to my back. As soon as I do, moisture starts to slip down between the crevice of my butt, reminding me of how turned on I am. But also, the plug settles, making the vibration worse.
As I lie here, tied and restrained, knowing he is watching me, desperate to cum, and begging for something to happen, I didn’t realize this would be it.
Now, I want to scream from the need ricocheting through me. Because for whatever reason, the vibrations aren’t enough, but they’ve slammed me to the edge of a climax and something else needs
to happen to push me over.
Out of nowhere, a riding crop appears. My eyes widen at the sight, even though I recognize it from the box and Nate’s smile causes me to cringe a little. He does nothing, just rests it beside me and then, grabs a hold of my feet and tugs me down to the bottom of the bed. Spreading my legs, he grabs the ropes he just released me from and ties my feet loosely to the bedpost.
“How badly do you need to come, princess?” he asks as he works.
“Very badly, Sir.”
“Why should I reward you?”
“I’ve been good today, Sir.”
“Have you? I thought I punished you for back-chat and cursing.”
My lips quiver. “I was working and wasn’t hungry. And Sam deserved to be cursed at, Sir. He asked for fifty grand like he wants to buy a bag of fifty cent candy.”
“Sam might deserve it, but there’s no need to curse. Your vocabulary is wide enough that you can chew him out without breaking a rule. And yes, you might have been working, but your health supersedes your work, doesn’t it? That’s a Rule.”
“I know, Sir. I forgot.”
“And is that acceptable?”
“No, Sir.”
“So, do you deserve a reward?”
“Not really, Sir.” Even though my heart sinks, I don’t complain. I hoped my spanking of before wiped the slate clean. I know that for any other reason, it would have done so. But the fact I refused to eat the plate of food he brought me this morning did more than just annoy him. My health and the three-pound weight gain I’ve managed so far take precedence.
Even above his own wounds.
But then, it’s the opposite for me. I guess that’s how this works. I can’t stop thinking about the bandages on his belly. So why should he be able to accept that I’m underweight?
“Honesty is good, princess. What will you do the next time I bring you food?”
“Try and eat it, Sir.”
“Yes. That’s all I want. You don’t have to eat every bite. Just a nibble is enough.” His hands are resting at my ankle, but now, they travel down over each calf, above the knee and smooth over my thighs. “Those three pounds make a difference, princess.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased, Sir.”
“I want you to be healthy. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I know.” I breathe, at that moment, feeling unutterably cherished. That I’m being punished for being unhealthy because I matter that much to him is perversely pleasing.
“Good.” One hand remains on my thigh, the other goes to the crop. “Let’s negotiate a deal, princess.”
“Sir?” I ask, eyes wide. This is new. And has potential. My pussy tingles at the idea.
The instant I register that, I regret it. It’s a bad move to think of the throbbing ache deep inside my cunt.
“How many lashes of the crop can you take, princess? To your clit?” he adds, eyes sparkling when my mouth opened to answer his first question.
Lips trembling at the second, I whisper, “I don’t know, Sir.”
“Let’s give you an idea of how it feels.” He moves to the side of the bed, presses one knee to the mattress and with the crop in his hand, he hovers it between my thighs. I watch as the flat leather pocket at the tip of the crop swings down and tense in preparation for the jolt. A hiss escapes me as the sting makes itself known but is otherwise manageable.
I blow out a breath, when he asks, “Well?”
“Ten, Sir.”
He hums under his breath. “That isn’t many.” My slight whimper of disagreement has his mouth tightening. “Do you want to cum, princess?” he asks again.
“Very much, Sir.”
“My negotiation is this. You’ll endure as many lashings as it takes to cum.”
Eyes bugging out of my head, I stare at him and whisper, “Can I do that, Sir? Is that possible?”
He smiles. “You’re about to learn it is.”
The free hand resting on his knee drops down to between my legs. The butt plug is tugged a little, maneuvered, then I feel a click, and suddenly, a vibration starts there. I can’t help it. I scream. Loudly. It echoes around the room, penetrating the silence of the mid-evening. Sir’s hand shoots out and claps against my mouth. The garbled cry is still audible and he bites out, “Hold your tongue.”
I do so, literally. But with my teeth. I bite down, taste blood and watch as he rushes off somewhere and returns with a gag. He shoves it in my mouth, the taste of plastic and chemicals is horrible, but I accept it and bite down. The long, high groans are still easy to hear, but it’s like they’re passing through water first. Only my tight clasp of the gag holds it in my mouth, he doesn’t bother to tie it around my head.
He resettles himself and to the constant cry escaping me, the low endless release of sound my body is forcing out of me, he begins to swat my pussy. I don’t even bother counting, just try to make myself cum. I clench down on the bullet, on the plug, but that just makes the vibrations pulse harder. It’s almost painful; the ceaseless throb creates a sob in my throat. I’ve never cried so much in my life, but the ever ready tears are there, present and waiting to fall.
The smack of the crop against the most sensitive flesh of my body is borderline painless in comparison to the agony of the vibrations. But the direct stimulation to the flesh comes as a relief. A monotonous sound penetrates my ears and I realize it’s Sir’s voice, he’s counting.
“Twenty, twenty-one.”
My eyes widen, urging the tears to fall and desperation floods me. It’s never going to happen. The swats aren’t hard, cutting. I wonder if I need that to do as he says. I spit out the gag and cry, “Please, Sir. Harder, harder. I can’t... I can’t do it. Help me, Sir. Please.”
My pleading has a smile curving his lips. “But I am helping, princess. I can’t hit harder, I don’t want to cut My pussy.”
A whine escapes me and he says, “Now, now. There’s no need to panic.” He maneuvers himself so that his arm is still held high, even if the position is awkward, but he’s lying beside me. The tapping of the crop against my cunt continues, but his insidious words work their way into my ear. “You love this, princess. I know you need it. The pain to cut into the pleasure, to make it shine brighter. I love seeing you like this. Desperate for more, desperate for everything I can give you. And that’s what’s the matter.
“You want me, don’t you, princess? You want my cock. You need me to fuck you. Just think, my dick slamming hard inside you, touching you like no other ever has or ever will. Fucking you until you cry with pleasure. No one can give you that. No one. Can they, princess? Can they?”
“No, Sir. No. They can’t. No one makes me feel like you do,” I stutter out, my words a mixture of gushing and hesitant, each word escaping at the same time as he swats my pussy.
“I know what you need to cum, princess. You need my permission. Even though you’re only a newbie, you need me to give you that release. Even if it’s only verbal.” His lips whisper down the side of my jaw and his words tickle my skin as he growls, “Cum for me, princess. Cum now.”
The final bark did it. I’d never have believed it, never imagined it was possible but the instant those three letters escaped his mouth, the minute now roared around the room, my climax flooded me.
The vibrations were no longer an irritant but a requirement. Those pulses acted like the thrust of his cock and the tap of the crop to my clit was all the stimulus I needed.
My vision turned black as sight escaped me. Sounds fled my eardrums. It was hard to breathe, easy to choke as my lungs hesitated to accept air. I was held high, suspended in flight only to be released into the air, to soar, to fly.
Awakening to the lap of Sir’s tongue against my clit, my stomach muscles clench down in rejection. My upper body surges upward and I sit here, dazed, my hands hovering with the desire to grab his head and tug him away.
My feet twist and pull at the bonds, my legs tug and still he laps at me. The throbbing pulses in my cunt and ass stops; ind
eed, they are empty of both sex aids. And Sir takes advantage, tongue fucking the quivering walls of the throat of my cunt. I want to slap him away, stop him but my hands won’t let me. I sit here, trembling, feeling almost punch drunk with sensation until he stops.
Eyes dazed, I watch as he sits up, his mouth drenched in my juices and the instant his tongue pushes its way into my mouth, I wake up for real.
The taste of myself on his lips is clean, fresh. Womanly. I accept every drop of my essence on his tongue, lash his mouth with my own, excited that I can eat hungrily at his lips.
I feel him rearrange me, but do I care? No.
My mind reawakens to the knowledge that my legs are still bound to the bed, but he’s slipped underneath me and I’m now sitting on his thighs. His cock is at the entrance to my cunt, the blunt tip is there, waiting. His hips lift a little but from the position, we both know I’ll have to ride him.
Pressing my hands into the mattress, I push myself closer to him and with his hand on his shaft, he guides himself into me.
The instant he does, my arms tremble and it takes everything I have to stay strong and not to fall. I manage, just. The wet, clinging walls of my cunt grasp and caress Sir’s cock in a sloppy kiss and his groan of pleasure is music to my ears.
To ride him, I have to tug against my bindings, and then use the strength in my upper body to propel myself forward. It isn’t comfortable. It’s like being in an exercise class, and within two thrusts, sweat is popping out of every pore. But this isn’t about me, I know that. I clench down on him, even though my pussy is still hypersensitive after that session of torture with the two vibrators. I huff through the sensory agony and try to ride him as fast as I can. I wriggle my hips, swiveling them to deepen the penetration, using all of my strength to get him to climax. On the brink of desperation swirling through me, I feel fingers at my sex.
“May I cum, Sir? P-p-please?”
“Do you deserve to cum, princess?”
“I-I don’t know, Sir, but please, may I?” I cry, hiccuping the words.
Sinfully Mastered: Naughty Nookie Page 22
