Regardless of the material, she ties good knots, which is part of the reason we fell in love. Perhaps the other part has something to do with stupidity more than anything else. But the sweet shift of her body between my legs reels me back out of my head. There’s no way to see from this angle. I yearn to tilt my head like an owl, if only for a fleeting glimpse.
My eyes ache for the expression on her face just as my hands ball into fists at her lost touch. But this is everything, all we have to give each other and still, to me, it’s enough and so much more. Am I enough to keep her coming back for more? Her soft hands smooth down my ass and her fingers skim the backs of my thighs until goose bumps rise against my flesh, just another sensation I can’t control.
She parts my legs and her gentle hands on my ankles nearly make me moan. When the bed creaks at the loss of her weight, a physical loss twists my stomach into knots. If our encounter is over now then there’s no going back to the way it used to be. But I can’t think like that right now.
Instantly, my eyes close and I concentrate on how my pulse pushes against the sensitive skin of my wrists, As if my blood yearns to break free and the silk taunts my flesh. There are so many different forms of bondage. I’m hers to do with as she wishes. Gladly, like it’s a gift, I’ll take this experience and wrap it up to tuck it into my memory.
This thought brings a mellowed calm to my otherwise horny body, but I come to life when her soft tread echoes through the loft. Every pinprick of pleasure engulfs me at once, now that she’s back. Because she came back. Without a word Marley slips slick rope around one of my ankles and my leg extends to the right as she pulls me taut. We’ve never done this before. Liquid heat pools between my legs and I know the safeword should anything go wrong. Even if she doesn’t honor me, she’ll honor that.
This is a certainty that makes me shudder when she ties off the other leg, and I’m left open to her probing gaze. Adrenaline fucks with my mind until all I know is the pulse of hard need. It moves across my chest as my pebbled nipples brush against the bedsheets and lust rages like a forest fire, until my flesh is consumed with an ache for what she’ll do next.
I don’t have long to wait.
Cold fingers probe my pussy, just barely inside so that I push and wiggle to take her deeper inside me. But that’s not what she wants. There’s a heavy swoosh of air before the flat of her hand hits my ass like a hornet’s sting and I know I’ve been a bad girl. So what? I’ll be naughty until the end of time if it makes her continue. One of her fingers circles my anus and her hot, wet tongue flicks out to tease my labia. I’m caught between the two sensations and the scent of her arousal; undone doesn’t begin to describe my state of mind.
“Relax, I’m going to need you to relax. Otherwise, I’ll screw you in both holes until you can’t tell up from down anymore.”
There’s nothing I can do—would want to do—when her slick finger moves past the first of my tight barriers in my anus and I stifle the urge to push back against my bonds, to get more of that overwhelming fullness that exerts her ownership. It requires so much self-control it makes me weak.
Steadily, she fills me up until all I can taste is sweet eagerness like a choked scream in my throat. She works her finger in and out of me, smooth and subtle against the constant coaxing of her tongue at my swollen, heavy cunt. Pierced through with her relentless assault on my senses. I welcome it like I’m coming home.
“I need you.” It’s a small, breathy moan.
But I know she hears me because her tongue pauses and a finger slides home against my G-spot and quickly, without warning, my muscles clench in searing orgasm. It overtakes me until I see stars. No way to get away when her fingers continue to press past my breaking point and lust wrings me out, leaving me useless. There isn’t any system to count between the orgasms as they brush me softly like feathers and build until they hit me. But I have my anchor, my counterweight to a world of so much pleasure: my support while the shadows shroud anything that might be too meaningful.
“I know. I’m sorry,” she says softly.
Whether my anchor is the bondage or my lover—for now I can’t tell. But one thing’s for sure. Blind to anything else, this makes me whole—even if it’s bound to tie me down.
THE CUPBOARD UNDER THE STAIRS
Kay Jaybee
The moment she heard the sharp click of the key turning in the padlock, her pulse drummed faster and her mouth dried.
Kristi slowly lowered the book she’d been reading to her lap. Mark was standing right behind her. She continued to look the other way as she spoke. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
The minutes before it started were precious. Kristi took silent deep breaths, aware that her pussy was already twitching and her chest was swelling beneath her black satin bra. Perspiration dotted her palms.
As her long russet hair was gathered into a sleek ponytail by strong male hands, Kristi closed her eyes, and goose pimples covered the flesh beneath her shirt, as her husband’s fingers traced the length of her hairline. He tugged her hair sharply, craning her neck backward, making Kristi’s throat constrict with longing.
Speaking calmly, as if he was simply offering to take her to the movies, Mark said, “I know how much you’ve missed our special sessions while I’ve been working away, so I’ve arranged a surprise.” Without relaxing his grip, he began to knead Kristi’s left breast with his free hand, squeezing it roughly through her top. “I see you’re more than ready for the challenge that lies ahead, my dear.”
Not bothering to deny that she’d missed his domination of her, Kristi winced inwardly, feeling her treacherous nipples push back against Mark’s palm. Fear chilled her, but the conflicting heat between her legs stopped her moving away. She knew she would enjoy what was to come.
“I want you to get off the sofa, open your eyes and turn around.”
Kristi took a protracted inhalation of air. The moment she turned it would truly begin. He wouldn’t hurry her, but experience had taught Kristi that it was unwise to make Mark wait too long.
She turned. His bright blue eyes, on a level with her own, seemed to peer into her soul. “On your knees.” His words were clipped, the underlying need to see her subservient oozing through every syllable.
Dropping down, her knees chaffing a little against the beige carpet, Kristi kept her gaze fixed on his denim-clad trouser legs. She remained perfectly still, allowing him to pass an inch-wide PVC strap around her neck. A collar of Mark’s own design, it was adorned with useful hooks and rings, and Kristi felt herself quiver with desire.
Leaving her crouched on the ground, Mark approached the white door in the corner of the room. Kristi didn’t look around, but then she didn’t have to. She knew he’d be unbolting the lock that barred the cupboard under the stairs from prying eyes.
Unable to keep her imagination in check, Kristi wondered what the special addition he’d planned might be. Had her husband been working on the cupboard layout? Like the collar she wore, Mark had designed its interior himself.
“Stand and strip.”
Her blouse, skirt and underwear hit the floor with a speed that made him laugh. “Such a whore!”
Naked but for her collar, Kristi swallowed carefully as Mark secured a wide black leather belt around her waist.
“You are a very good bitch.” Smiling sardonically as he attached a leather lead to a hook in the center of her collar, her husband pulled her toward the cupboard.
Ducking through the low doorway, they both stood in the small space. An involuntary shiver rippled through Kristi, her nipples hardening further against the colder air of the little room as Mark shoved her against the far wall. Snapping the metal ring that hung from the back of her belt onto a corresponding hook on the wall, Mark forced Kristi to rise, so she was standing on the balls of her feet. Then, stretching out his wife’s arms, he eased them through two more rings suspended from the ceiling.
Dimly lit, the cupboard’s cream paintwork felt cool and smooth against he
r buttocks and back, the sensation adding to Kristi’s arousal as she scanned the homemade punishment bin in search of change. A whip, a cane, some lengths of rope, leads, handcuffs, a vibrator, some anal plugs and a collection of cloths, wipes and tubes of lube all waited as usual, in a regimented list of painful promise. Her body already ached to feel them against her pale flesh, but she could discern no obvious alterations to her surroundings.
Mark clasped her chin in his hand. “I know what you want me to do to you, and rest assured I am looking forward to seeing you get the punishment you crave, but on this occasion, I believe it will do you good to wait.”
Kristi licked her lips, her body anxious and alert. The continuous pressure of the straps encircling her flesh made her impatient for the next stage of their game; a game that, with the exception of Mark’s choice of weapon, had always followed a similar pattern. Now she steeled herself for the unknown, the idea scaring her as much as it added to her excitement.
“Look what I have here.” Mark fished a folded piece of material from his pocket.
His wife’s face blanched, “We said no blindfolds! I was always supposed to see what was coming. That was the deal!”
Mark’s forehead creased in anger. “We also agreed that you would not speak or move once you were in the cupboard!”
Kristi opened her mouth to protest further, but thought better of it as her husband bent forward and slipped the black silk strip over her hazy green eyes.
The moment Mark let go of her, Kristi felt horribly disoriented. Her ears strained against the blackness, trying to work out what would happen next, her imagination in overdrive.
The familiar brushing sound of the cupboard door scraping the carpet told Kristi that Mark had opened the door wider, but then there was silence. Her skin positively rippled with anticipation as the cupboard’s air wrapped itself around her.
Kristi’s feet began to ache in their elevated position, and she risked shifting them a fraction against the cold tiled floor, bracing herself for Mark to tell her off for moving. No such admonishment came, and an eerie feeling of being alone crept over her.
She didn’t dare call out, but although she listened intently, Kristi couldn’t even hear him breathe. Unable to do more than shuffle her hips, her arms and shoulder muscles locked in position, the sense of abandonment grew intense. What if Mark had gone out? He could easily have just left her there. Then an image of him watching her, sitting in the black leather armchair near the cupboard door, his hand gliding up and down his shaft, crowded her mind.
He’d never made her wait before, his own urgency to inflict pain usually as desperate as her desire to receive it. He should have been pinching her nipples by now, striking them with a whip or cane, sending hot burns of delicious agony through her tits. There shouldn’t have been this nothingness. Kristi squirmed as she pictured his smug face, confident that his wife had no choice but to stay exactly where she was for as long as he decreed.
Then, out of the quiet came Mark’s husky voice. “As I said, things will be a little different today.”
A fresh surge of uncertainty zipped through Kristi. She’d thought the blindfold was the change in routine. It seemed she was wrong. A pair of heavy-duty headphones was clamped to her ears. Panic gripped her. If she had thought her lack of vision was disorienting, that was nothing compared to being robbed of her hearing, as well.
Still struggling to adjust, she jumped as warm air was blown against her tits. The simple gesture made Kristi feel like her breasts and pussy had been hot-wired. As the targeted breathing continued against her skin in a random pattern, every inch of her flesh tensed as she willed him to keep going, to blow lower, to move his attention to her clit, the unaccustomedly tender treatment in her bound state somehow more erotic, and more arousing, than the strikes and smacks she’d wished for.
The blowing stopped as suddenly as it had started. Its abrupt loss made Kristi groan.
It was so strange not being able to hear Mark’s words, moans or sighs. Everything felt wrong. By this time he was normally lashing the tops of her thighs, blotching them to deep shades of scarlet. Kristi was just convincing herself that any second now her husband’s own desire would break, and he’d give her the spanking she wanted, when the caressing softness of a silken cloth moved over her tits.
She whimpered in confused pleasure as the juices of her cunt began to slip down her thighs. Her wrists agitated within the metal hoops as the silk cloth was concentrated in small rotating circles around her left nipple. She opened her mouth to call out, to plead for Mark to hit her. Maybe she did speak, but Kristi was no longer sure if words were actually coming out of her mouth, or if they were simply echoing around her head.
The deprivation of sight and sound intensified her sense of touch, and Kristi nearly climaxed as the end of a whip was suddenly trailed up her right leg, while the relentless caress of the silk over her nipples became even more precise.
Skirting lower, the whip warmed and chilled her skin at the same time, as she struggled not to come until she’d gotten the thrashing she longed for. Tears of frustration gathered beneath the blindfold, and Kristi could feel the vibration of her groans as she continued to beg Mark to be rough, to hurt her, to punish her for speaking.
Rather than the hard smack she craved, all she got was the removal of the fabric and a yielding pair of lips against the flat of her stomach. The affection of the kiss was another shock to her system. This wasn’t what their cupboard was about. The kiss morphed into a languid lick that circled her navel and forced Kristi to still her arms, which she’d been unconsciously flailing within the restraints. Every nerve in her body was caught on the edge of expectation.
The contrary nature of her situation was not lost on Kristi. When they’d first been together, she’d have done anything for Mark to be this sensually attentive, but he’d changed her. She’d adapted to the extent that now she longed for his correction. Yearning to be bound, tied and made helpless in his presence, Kristi relished the climaxes he could engender within her through the exquisite application of pain. Now she had to backtrack madly, as the forgotten effects of sensual touch cloaked her captive flushed body.
Bringing her legs together, flexing her feet, Kristi felt the stickiness of her flooding crotch against her inner thighs, desperately hoping that breaking the nonmoving rule again would bring correction.
It bought nothing. Literally nothing. The kisses stopped. The whip moved away, and the light air of her companion’s breathing disappeared.
“What are you doing? Where the fuck are you? What the hell’s going on?” Kristi had no idea how loud she was yelling and no idea if Mark was replying. The familiar ache of her arm muscles was beginning to become more pronounced, and the neck collar was irritating her throat. Her mound throbbed with the need to be filled, and since the handkerchief had been removed, Kristi craved its gentle return, as much as she longed to be smacked.
After what seemed an eternity of inaction, calloused hands maneuvered her legs as wide as they would go. Kristi’s pulse quickened. Unseen fingers moved with frustrating hesitation up the inside of her legs, making her breath catch in her throat and her body clench with the telltale signs of an approaching orgasm.
She couldn’t remember ever feeling this horny. Kristi imagined Mark murmuring to himself as he crouched before her, pushing her tethered body back against the cupboard wall. She felt his hard cock pressing against her snatch. Unable to widen her legs farther, Kristi arched her back and lunged her hips forward, doing her best to bear down.
Just as she thought she’d lined herself up with his shaft, it was moved away, and her sigh of frustration echoed inside her skull. Mark was probably laughing at her, but she was beyond caring. Trapped in the cupboard, in a world of erotic isolation, Kristi began to move her neck. If she could just catch the back of her blindfold against one of the hooks in the wall behind her, then perhaps she could wrench it free and see what Mark was up to.
On the fifth try, Kristi fe
lt the material snag against the hook, but her escape was halted in its tracks by the application of a supple mouth to her clit. She froze. With hands clasping her hips, and the tongue darting, licking and sucking at her nub, all thoughts of losing the blindfold were wiped out by sheer pleasure.
With quaking legs, Kristi felt an intense orgasm rise in her stomach and rip through her frame—a phenomenon that was doubled when a dick was thrust between her legs. It was a full two seconds before she worked out the physical impossibility of what was happening: to have both a tongue licking at her slit, and solid balls slapping against her at the same time.
The severity of the fuck, and her ass banging the paintwork behind her with the urgency of the thrusting, sent glorious sensations coursing through her tethered body, easily squashing down the facts of the situation as Kristi bucked and juddered between the mouth, dick and cupboard wall. The pounding to her channel was relentless, continuing long after her climax had peaked and exhaustion had engulfed her.
As she hung limp in her restraints, her brain finally accepted the reality of the situation. Mark had company. That was the change he’d warned her about.
The only thing Kristi was sure of was that it had been Mark screwing her. The violence of the pumping was the only familiar thing that had happened since she’d been secured in the cupboard.
Wrenching the headphones off her sweat-dampened head, Mark then removed his wife’s collar. Kristi instantly sagged against him, her feet aching as they relaxed against the flat ground. Both her arms were freed at the same time, telling her that Mark’s invisible companion was still there. Calmer now, her orgasm quieted, it seemed embarrassingly obvious. The men’s hands had felt so different, one set far smoother and smaller than the other.
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