We’d been at a ropey play party earlier in the day and I’d been under the weather for the proceeding couple weeks, so I’m sure Mr Right knew he was in trouble this particular evening.
I was just a wee bit pent up. Like the sort of pent up when it’s been building for so long you sort of forget how in need of release you are because you’ve spent so long tamping down the desire. That desperate tickle in your belly. So at a certain point all it takes is someone running a finger down your arm to make you nearly jump out of your skin. I was that tightly wound, dangerous and in desperate need of any sort of release.
Rope in hand, I approached Mr Right and undressed him, leaving him standing naked and goose fleshed in front of me. Wanting to keep him wrapped up tightly for a good long while, I started by binding his hands together in a mummy-like position and fashioned what I hoped would be a relatively comfy but secure harness from there. Once I was sure he couldn’t escape I tossed him into the bed and pointed at where I wanted him to sit, building him a nest of pillows so he’d be sitting relatively up right.
I dumped the rest of his rope out on the bed and began plotting. How to best accomplish what I had in mind without hard points? Did I have enough rope? Would he hate what I was about to do?
As we bantered--always the sarcasm and sass, the way we communicate, flirt, and as switches how we encourage whomever has decided to be in charge—I became more sure of myself. Not long after I got both of his legs frogged in on themselves, he said something that provided all the motivation I’m usually lacking, because I’m a sadist but I don’t want to hurt my sweet man friend. Sometimes he needs to remind me, he isn’t that sweet. I don’t remember the words, but I recall the daring look in his eyes as he pushed, seeing how far he could or would go.
I grabbed the blindfold from my bag and secured it around his eyes. Still there was a snarky smirk on his lips which I wiped away with a kiss before taking the breath from him by tying the rest of the blindfold’s length to the headboard so that he couldn’t loll his head down. He’s often shy with his eyes in the bedroom but I wanted him present now and I wanted to “punish” him by removing his ability to hide his face from me.
The smirk was gone as I continued, pulling first his right and then his left leg up and out to the farthest points of his head board and tying them off. His legs spread as wide as I thought he could handle and up off the bed so he had to work at holding himself up, no easy comfy position for him to relax into tonight. Oh no.
He looked so delightfully vulnerable and exposed just then that even without having touched him or him having touched me, I was wet. But I waited, not giving into my needs just then. Teasing myself just as much as him as I ran the pinwheel along his open thighs, then tracing the ropes around his legs, then his ass and belly. I laughed cruelly as he whimpered and squirmed, trying to escape but only having a mere couple inches of wiggle room, all he could accomplish was exposing new and more sensitive parts of himself, which I of course teased and tormented.
When he was thoroughly on edge I began interspersing the pin wheel and the smacks with the palm of my hand with tentative movements of my face near his cock. Not even my mouth, not yet. Just the soft warmth of my face and perhaps my closed lips to tease him with the proximity, the promise of what would come eventually but not yet.
Each time I would play at opening my lips to take him in my mouth I would instead pull away and spank or tickle him a new. When I finally licked at the head of him, the sound he made was like a cry, a pained and grateful mew that had me grinning.
I teased him with parted lips and tongue for as long as I could before I couldn’t torture myself any longer and finally took him in my mouth. Again that sound just on the border of pain, so happy to be getting what he wants that the pleasure almost hurts. I draw that moment out by slowly licking and sucking the length of him. Making even the doling out of pleasure a tease and I’m rewarded with so many more noises.
Soon I sense he can’t hold his legs up any longer so I begin untying them, releasing his legs so that he can stretch them and I can revel in the rope marks they’re decorated in. Before he can become too at ease, I reach into the bedside table. He’s smart, he knows what comes next.
I carefully place the condom on him, straddle his legs and tease him with my proximity for only a few moments before climbing on top of him. It’s my turn to sigh and moan as I ride him, our faces so close that as I enjoy him, it’s relatively soon that the blindfold falls off and we smile at one another. And as much as I enjoy him bound, I want his hands on me, I want to be tossed around, I want to tangle our bodies together in ways that aren’t possible at the moment. So as I move against him, I somehow manage to untie his arms, freeing him to touch me. And when my legs tire in this position, I turn to face away from him, rewarding him with his favorite view as I slide up and down the length of him, ass in the air.
He must roll me onto my back soon after this because I have no memories other than of endless orgasms. Of vibrating myself to climax and insisting that me fuck me some more, coming on him as I whisper naughty nothings in his ear. The pleasure so much that I lose track of the events as we try to destroy one another with deliciousness, falling asleep in a sweaty, happy pile.
In the morning we wake to a bedroom floor absolutely covered in rope that takes two days to fully untangle. And it was so worth it.