BONDS

Pt. 1

I was sitting at the bar staring at the two-handed clock mounted on the wall, ticking far too slow. Time was moving at a torpid pace. I was so antsy for Darin to ask me, “Do you wanna get outta here?”

I could hardly focus on the myopic conversation we were having when my mind was racing with images of what I could only imagine his cock looked like. Oh, and what it could feel like…

I was trying tirelessly to calm my libidinousness down, but his tight-fitting dress pants weren’t doing me any favors. He was so sweet, and I wondered if that conveyed similarly in the bedroom. I didn’t want sweet. I wanted pure, animalistic sexual aggression. Nothing more, nothing less. Primal. I was pining for it.

Alas, for now, all I was receiving from him were genial smiles and soft, enticing shoulder kisses. I let the spaghetti strap of my dress fall as he lifted his head. The gentle touch of his lips on my bare shoulder was soft enough to make the hairs on my neck stand up erect – the same way I had hoped his dick would be within the hour.

Kissing a woman’s shoulders is just an annoying prelude to necking. It’s suggestive. It’s just intimate enough to be a tease. It implies that this could go further, if I wanted it to. I did.

Again, I tried to shake my thoughts and settle myself. Patience, I told myself. I was irrationally aroused already. My panties were so tight I could fully feel my pulse down in my vulva.

I wasn’t one for romantic affection – and Darin sure was affectionate. I, myself, had turned that switch off long ago. I preferred to take the pleasure without the intimacy nowadays. I felt more powerful that way. More in-control. I’d let a man cum all over my face, hair and Egyptian cotton sheets – but emotions? Far to messy for my taste.

I’m very hyper-sexual. Some may call me a nymphomaniac. Others, just a slut. I preferred to think of myself as free. Free from the constraints of romantic attachments. Free to express my own sexuality how I pleased without repercussions. But regardless of how I thought of myself, this whole damn town thought differently. The fact that such a sweet, innocent, hopeless romantic like Darin wanted to take me out for drinks was a shock – and quite possibly a mistake.

As he pressed on with his questions about who I was and what I liked, it was apparent that we weren’t getting down to business anytime soon. I yawned between sips of my extra dirty martini. He didn’t even look away from my face to catch a glimpse of my tits that were, albeit small, perky and exposed enough to catch any man’s eye. After what felt like an eternity, Darin finally asked a question that caught my attention – but not in the way that I had hoped.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Suddenly, I felt more naked being fully-clothed than I would spread-eagle on a California king bed. I quickly gulped the remainder of my martini and ordered another while I prepared my very poor and fictitious excuse of an answer.

“Not my thing.”

The truth was, I was once a woman capable of love. I loved hard, in fact. I learned that lesson quite quickly. I had thrown myself into relationships where I was quickly chewed up and spit out. So now, I just spit in the mouths of men as I ride their cocks.

Relationships, in my opinion, dug your grave. You give yourself to another person who destroys you, your hopes, your dreams, and walks away from the explosion like an 80s action film – never looking back. Every lover was a loaded gun. Every break up, a death without a funeral.

Pt. 2

Darin started on about how phenomenal it was to be in love. How he couldn’t believe I hadn’t the chance to experience. How nothing could bring true pleasure like love could. I almost laughed outright in his face. I knew quite a few other ways to bring intense pleasure… a tongue piercing being one of them.

“Yeah? How many times have you been in love, Darin.”

He grinned, likely taken aback by my inquiry after having hardly expressed interest in anything but his physique the entire night.

“Many times, dear. And each lover I’ve held dear to my heart. Still do. My relationships have all ended on mutual terms, if you can believe that.”

I didn’t.

“I would still go above and beyond for any one of those women, if they’d let me. They’ve let me see them. I mean really see them. Every bit of them. To their soul. I don’t take that lightly. I’ve experienced the most sacred form of intimacy with them – trust.”

I ran my finger around the rim of my glass as I let my mind wander back to the image of Darin doing the same to my vaginal lips.

“I’m really horny, Darin. I’ve been staring at the bulge in your pants all night,” I said. I hoped my salaciousness would either tempt him to bring me home immediately or scare him off so I could move on with my life. Luckily, it was the former. Finally, Darin uttered the sentence that I had almost grown too bored to anticipate any longer.

Would you like to have our next drink back at my place?”

Go-time. I nearly grabbed him by the crotch in my rush out of there. He grabbed my hand instead.

Ah, hand holding. What a juvenile activity. Though I will not lie, I appreciated the courtship as he intertwined his fingers through mine, insisting on walking to my left between me and the road. It almost made me feel safe.

We walked in the front door of his lovely mid-century home. It was adorable, put-together, unexciting… fitting. He poured me a whiskey in a tumbler glass, and by the time he poured his own I had downed mine without a flinch. I didn’t have the sexual patience for ANY more small-talk. And I hoped that this eluded to my lack of a gag-reflex.

He raised his eyebrows. “Impatient, huh? Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘stop and smell the flowers?’”

He was cute. I was annoyed. “I don’t like flowers.”

Finally, he kissed me. Passionately. With tongue. I was taken off-guard, which rarely happened to me. Time stopped for a second as I felt my apprehensive body melt into his. When I went to unbuckle his belt, he stopped me. “Dear God, don’t pull away now,” I begged.

“I just want to show you something,” he assured me. “You might like it.”

Darin led me to another room in his house – one that seemed to be hidden from the rest. I’m an observant woman, so I could tell by the layout that this particular room was located behind the garage. Perhaps it was an add-on.

Through the heavy door was a sight that no part of me expected. It was like, a sex dungeon. Not “like,” it was absolutely a sex dungeon. A large room, painted all black, with sex toys lining the shelves and walls, black and white photographs of women tied-up adorning the walls, a metal folding chair, a pully hanging from the ceiling, and a long, thick rope coiled up on the concrete floor. I felt completely ill-prepared.

My mouth was agape (not uncommon), and my brain tied in knots (a rarity). I felt myself get hot. I was almost perspiring, and I wasn’t even on top of him yet.

“Women are a work of art. You are a work of art. Bondage is beautiful… and I live for that kind of stuff. Beauty. It’s a euphoric experience – for both myself and for you. Are you up for this?” He asked, “Will you let me tie you up and fuck you?” He raised a silk blindfold in my direction. I was typically more of a dom than a sub. Not having the control wasn’t usually my kink. But admittedly, the thought of something new excited me. And strangely, it was hard to say no to his kind, brown eyes.

I agreed, and Darin put the blindfold on me. It was already difficult to see in the dimly-lit room, but now I was completely in the dark. The anonymity of what was to happen was gut-wrenching – but thrilling. Prior to being blinded, though, I had scanned the room and knew everything within it. The rope, of course, a red whip, a pretty sizable paddle, and Darin. Sweet Darin. While I could no longer see him with my eyes, I held a visual in my head. And I was quite fond of that visual. Honestly, I was starting to feel quite fond of him. I felt a fluttering coming from what I at first thought was my pedanda, but then wiggled its way up to my stomach as I had the sudden realization of the level of trust I had just placed in this man the moment I allowed him to blindfold me.

Before I could second guess myself, Darin moved behind me and grabbed the rope. His fingertips swept across my temples as he adjusted my hair out of the way – the softness of his touch like that of a gentle nurturer. With his hands around my neck, he used his index fingers under my chin to motion my head looking upward. He moved slow, so I was horny with anticipation. This pace differed heavily from the rapid, thoughtless ravage I was used to. The first bit of rope went in my mouth and around my head. The rope was coarse and I felt its frays prick against my tongue. Having time to let each sensation settle into me left me shaking from excitement, or from nervousness.

He began taking my clothes off with such care, kissing and caressing my body as he moved down. It relaxed my noticeably tense body, until I realized it tickled.

I was a little confused by my level of comfort – or lack thereof. I tried to remind myself that I indulge in kinks all the time. I commit sexual taboos on almost a nightly basis. But, for some reason, this felt different. I was so distracted by the various sensations occurring to my body – and quite honestly, my brain – that I couldn’t even imagine the shape of his cock in my mind.

I felt two loops of the rope go across the top of my tits, around my body, and another two loops right below – pulled taut. Several loops of the same rope around my upper arms, restricting me completely. I could feel my heart beating fast, and the rope had constricted the blood flow of my bosom so greatly that I envisioned my boobs thumping along with every beat. He then bound my wrists and ankles, and helped me to a kneel. He knelt with me.

With his thumb and index finger, he pulled my chin to face what I could only assume to be his face. Then he kissed me. Less tongue than the first time. Just as much passion. He grazed his fingers down my neck, chest, rope, and to my nipple, where he pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He pressed my nipple in his fingers hard, which felt intensified given that they were squeezed between the rope. I moaned and had almost reached the point of crying out fully when he stopped and replaced his rough fingers with his soft tongue. He caressed my breasts and licked each nipple alternately. His saliva and warm tongue comforted my burning nips, which were harder than I had ever felt them before. Maybe that was an exaggeration. I was blindfolded.

He then began to flick with his tongue and I writhed in pleasure. He stopped and I longed for more. His hot breath on my body was nice. I just wanted to feel him against me again.

“How are you,” he asked. How was I? What a weird question. I didn’t even answer. I didn’t know how.

“Give me a nod if you’re okay with me contorting your ankles to a better position now.”

I nodded.

Pt. 3

The braids of the rope were beginning to hurt my arms, and I found joy in that. I had become strangely self-conscious, though, about the fat of my arms bulging from the tightness. It was an unfamiliar anxiety. As a woman, of course I had my insecurities about my body image. As a sexually free person, however, I had never experienced shyness about my body while getting fucked. But I guess I wasn’t getting fucked – yet. This was more. A lot more. Overwhelmingly more. My body was always racing. Always running. Here, it was my mind and my heart that was doing just that. Suddenly Darin had me feeling reserved – a feeling I thought I didn’t have the capacity for anymore.

I felt him tying more knots down my body. At first, I was trying to follow his motions and what he was doing with all that rope. I could only follow his movements with my sense of touch, as I was blindfolded. It was difficult to map out in my head what he was doing, and what I looked like. It felt like the rope made a diamond shape around my belly. I tried to trace the shape of the rope on my body until a voice in my head seemed to coax me into surrendering my analytical attempts. It was scary, but relieving.

Darins mouth pressed yet again on mine, and his arms wrapped entirely around me. He had me in a full embrace, and I felt safe. I seemed to turn to mush in his arms. Before I realized we were even leaning over, I was on my back. The cold, concrete floor was a shock to my nervous system after my body had been held in his warm arms. My safety net was momentarily taken from me as he removed his body from mine, kneeling back upright as I stayed on the cold ground. My legs had not stretched out yet and remained bent. He rested a hand on each knee.

Then, more rope.

With his face and body no longer near mine, I started to feel more uncomfortable. Wait, it was probably just the cold ground doing that. It wasn’t like I was trying to wriggle my way out of the ropes – that was futile – but perhaps I started squirming, because he noticed.

“You’re okay,” Darin assured me. His voice reduced the panic though I was irked by the parental-type tone in his attempt to comfort me. “I can tell you’re not a fan of the unknown, huh? Would it help you let go of that fear if I talked you through what I’m doing?”

I scoffed at his condescend, but nodded. It messed up the back of my hair to nod.

“What I’m doing to your legs now is called a frogtie – a vulgar name for a most useful position.”

He continued to guide me through his motions as I felt the rope wrap around my legs, circling right above and below my bent knee, and once again around my ankle and my upper thigh. My vagina could feel the rope whipping around near my groin, and his hard-working finger grazed my labia. Instantly, I was consumed with the anxiety of impatience yet again.

“… And this will refrain you from extending your legs,” He continued. No shit, I thought. “This allows considerable variation in pose and some mobility, whilst preventing you from attempting positions above where I place you.”

He contorted my left leg down to the ground, placing the heel of my foot at my hip. My right leg he pushed to the side, opening me up and tucking my knee to my torso.

“So now, you have to trust me.”

He roughly inserted two fingers into my hot, moist cunt. Oh, the relief I felt. He began to pump hard and deep whilst using his thumb on my clit. I tried to wiggle down toward him as low as I could on his fingers to get him as deep inside me as I could, but I was basically immobile. I moaned as a plead for him to take it further.

He laughed, “Oh, shoot,” (his verbal censorship amused me) “I was so enthralled with your beautiful lips that I forgot to replace your gag.”

He stopped and brought his wet fingers to my lips. I licked my own juices and sucked on his fingers clean. I felt dizzy, like I was about to tip over. He replaced the rope that was in my mouth, which rapidly collected with my saliva as drool dripped down my cheeks.

He crawled back between my legs and stuck his fingers back inside of me – this time pleasuring my clit not with his thumb, but the tip of his dripping tongue. I arched my back as much as I could without hurting myself, and fully rubbed my pelvis into his mouth. He reached around and grabbed my bum with such force – pushing me into him even further. I came.

“Now, the fun part,” he said with more casualty than I was expecting. I had just orgasmed. Wasn’t that the fun part?

He untied my legs and sat me up. He put my arms behind my back, bent at the elbows, a bulky, intricate knot put in place to keep them there. He put loops around my hips, and off my left side. He was securing the rope on my right arm as well. He was still talking me through his methods – but at this point, I was no longer listening. I had let go of my impulsive need to control the situation. I was letting him have his way – whatever way.

He lowered me onto my left side, and tied my ankles upper thighs again – separate this time. I heard whips from the rope again, this time thrown up toward the ceiling with just one end descending back down. It yanked on my body. Darin told me to brace myself – but I didn’t even tense. I heard the wheel of a pully and from my right ankle, thigh, hip and arm – my body lifted.

And with that, I was suspended.

Pt. 4

I felt upside-down, though I knew I wasn’t completely. My hips had been lifted higher than my torso and head. My ankle, even higher. I legs were forced entirely spread apart at this angle.

I heard Darin’s footsteps creep back toward me again. This time, he was walking toward my face rather than my gaping wet pussy. He continued closer and closer until I felt the fabric of his dress pants and the throbbing, hard cock that was under them press up against my face. The spit collecting from the gag increased with more hungry salivation. I was drooling for him.

He backed off a bit and I heard what sounded like church bells to my execrated ears – the unbuckling of his belt. It sounded like it slid through his belt loops so fast it could’ve given him rug burn, and then I felt the hot leather wrap around my neck to be fastened again. It slightly restricted the blood flow rushing to my head. I fought against my restraints as I awaited the feeling of his bare cock with bated (and restricted) breath before he finally removed my gag again and touched his tender dick against my lips.

I extended my tongue and licked passionately up and down his shaft, wetting it with my saliva before closing my lips around the head and letting him force himself down my throat. I was swinging back and forth on the ropes with each thrust. It felt as if we were dancing at first – so rhythmic in its motion. He grabbed the back of my hair – already knotted from the floor – to pull me closer.

In what seemed like the same breath, he pulled himself out of my mouth and removed my blindfold. I looked up at him longingly, my face dewed with sweat, spit, precum and runny eyes. God, was he handsome. Had he always been that handsome? I felt my heart flutter and get stuck in my throat. Was that ‘cause I was inverted?

He flashed me a sickeningly dreamy smile as he grabbed the paddle.

I’ve always loved rough sex. And I love a good spank or two. But I had never incorporated a paddle in my sex play before. I didn’t feel nervous, though. In fact, I felt entirely safe doing this with Darin. Not only safe, but good. Good about myself in a way that I feel like I haven’t in a long time. Comfortable and contented, regardless of how uncomfortable my contorted position was. I was relaxed. No, I was elated.

He replaced the rope in my mouth. As he sauntered behind me, he lightly traced his fingers across my jaw, under my chin, around my neck and down my spine. When he reached my bum, he took each of my booty cheeks in each hand and gave it a nice shake. It didn’t feel aggressive, but rather endearing.

When he let go, I braced myself for the smack of the paddle. But instead, the tenderness of his soft lips found themselves upon my butt. He began alternating each cheek. He moved from the sides inward, each kiss inching closer to my pussy until finally landing a tender smooch upon my tender vaginal lips.

“The curvature of your entire body is intoxicating,” he admired. “You give me such a high.”

Then I felt the first gentle taps of his hand all across my rear. I knew this was only the warm-up to get my bottom accustomed to the stinging sensation that would soon be the paddle. He gradually increased the intensity of the slaps. One on the right, one on the left in the same region. He was getting me worked up. This was the easy part.

He caressed my butt lovingly before his comforting hand was replaced by a whack of the paddle. I let out muffled cries as the vibration from the slaps rung from my ass through my entire body and I swung back and forth in suspension.

I felt so free, even though I was so constricted. So out of my own control that I was pleased to be under his. So degraded and so admired. It was the most amazing myriad of contradictions. Pleasure and pain.

After 5 blows to each cheek, he rubbed his hand on my bum, straightening me out and easing the stinging before landing another 3 spanks each.

While my smile may have appeared as more of a grimace with my wincing and the rope in my mouth, I knew I was wildly grinning. I chomped at the rope between my teeth. My body a pendulum – the motions, the spanking, the vibrations, and his hand were so perfectly orchestrated it brought my Virgoan soul so much satisfaction.

When the spanking ceased, he massaged my ass with his hands. I could feel his breath on the sacrum of my back and knew his face was near.

“I love feeling this heat radiate from your body,” he remarked. “Your ass is a beautiful blush of red.”

I felt my face blush, too.

Without warning, he lowered me – but not all the way down. He waltzed around in front of me wrapped my lower leg around the bottom of his butt. I wasn’t anticipating his next move anymore. I was just along for the ride.

Pt. 5

I felt the head of his penis rub along my vaginal opening and I longed for the sexual deliverance that his member inside of me would give. He thrust himself into my cunt and I almost orgasmed on the spot. I tingled from the top of my hair down to my toes. He was pumping with just as much vigor as my heart was.

Despite how much cock I’ve had inside me – I was experiencing sensations I had never experienced before. I felt like our bodies had merged into one immaculate art instillation. I wasn’t just getting fucked. What I was experiencing was something beyond words. And I am an articulate woman.

So – I had taken a psych class or two in college. I know about the chemical oxytocin, and what it does to us. I remember the 3 “L’s” – love, lust and labor. I know it’s the “bonding” hormone. And I know that a lot of it is released during sex. It explains why people catch feelings when they fuck. I always felt that I was somehow exempt from that. That maybe I had a chemical imbalance that made me unable to be intimate even when indulging in the most “intimate” act (being sex). But something was happening here that I couldn’t explain. Perhaps it was the oxytocin.

I wasn’t swinging so much as I was simply bouncing on his cock. With the way he was holding me – controlling my movements with his arms around my ass – and the way he had my leg locked around his body, we were not fully separating at any moment. I used my leg to pull him further into me with each motion. The whole room melted away. I didn’t notice the ropes any longer. I felt as if I was floating with him as he pounded me for all he was worth.

The pressure built to the point of no return. I tensed up as I felt myself begin to orgasm.

“Look at me,” he demanded softly.

I did what I could to move my neck enough to look at him. The beauty of his warm, brown eyes penetrated me just as ferociously as his hard, gorgeous dick was. His brow was furrowed in complete erotic pleasure as he moaned my name, and I fully climaxed.

The corners of his open mouth upturned slightly. He didn’t break eye contact as he pulled out and I watched a flood of warm cum erupt from his engorged dick and onto my leg and the rope. My leg dropped and he came up to my face, removed the rope from my mouth, and kissed me passionately.

“Let’s hang out,” Darin said. I chuckled.

“I certainly am already hanging, in the truest sense of the word.” I was a little taken aback by the glittery tone of my own voice.

“I want to learn about you,” he went on, “Not like this. I want to get to know you. I want to spend time with you where sex is not involved.” He let out a laugh at this point as well. “Though you do look beautiful like this. With your body manipulated just how I want you. With your pussy glistening and your face red. You’re a work of art. But I think that extends beyond the physical. Can I take you on some real dates?”

I paused, and blushed again. I yearned deeply to just say “yes,” but usually my passive “yes” response to a man’s romantic attempts was just a way to pacify their feelings and get them to shut the fuck up without any intention of seeing them again. I wanted to give him a genuine affirmative answer, and I was at a loss for words.

Darin laid down a blanket underneath me before lowering me onto it and untying me.

I still hadn’t given him a response. In a way, I feel my hesitation was partially an attempt to hear Darin’s voice some more. I liked his voice.

He laid on the blanket with me and we cuddled. I was pleasurably confused, and confusingly pleasured.

Fear of bonds is just a boundary,

Free to be bound, bound to be free.

Could it be that hard or that easy?

This rope may tie new perspective in me.

The comfortable discomfort has me grinning with glee.

For what would freedom without bounds be?

Forgive me, I’ve begun to feel queasy.