Posts tagged rope for sex
Wiggle Room: Rope Journaling 11-3

It’s been a week of “be careful what you wish for.” In the past I’ve wished Mr Right were a little more switchy and now here I am, two days since we last hung out and I still can't bear to look at my vibrator let alone imagine longing for an orgasm. To be fair it's at least half my fault. I did start it.

See my brain spent all of last Friday distracted and dreaming up ways to torment Mr Right. It was an especially creative day in the naughty section of my brain because it was the sort of day where I was hardcore procrastinating at work. And Mr Right’s butt was the focus of all my creative energy as I avoided doing boring crap like accounting and answering emails. So that by the time Mr Right picked me up from work I had written a dozen bad ideas (well bad for him, great for me) down in my rope notebook and had an evil smile on my face I couldn't hide.

By the time we were ready to retreat to the bed room I was grinning up at him like a creep. “Nope you don't have any ideas.”

He tried to kiss away some of my smugness but it only made my head full of deviousness fuller. My look seemed to be making him a little nervous, which it should have, I was feeling downright cruel. While he was in the bathroom I got to the task of hiding hard points along the length of the sides of his bed frame by tying rope there. He came back just in time to catch me finishing up. “No, no ideas! I'm not in any trouble.”  He promptly walked out of the room.

“Glad you understand. Now, less pants!”  I called out to him.

My hands were grabbing at his ass before he could fully drop his jeans to the floor. Such was my desire for him. I hoped I could resist the urge to fuck him long enough to fuck with his mind.

Once he was naked I fell to my knees admiring his hardness and inwardly reminding myself to not take him in my mouth. Instead I leered up at him while I tied rope lines all up and down both of his legs then lines around his hips and belly and chest. Finishing with the most comfy wrist cuffs I could devise.

“Boy it's a good thing you're not up to anything.”

“Me? Nope just want you to be comfy since you're going to be in this for a while. A long while.”

“Oh really?”

I push him back on the bed, briefly knocking the sass off his face. “Yeap, now scoot to the middle.”

First I bind his wrists spread eagled to the far corners of the head board.  Next I use the rope I’d tied to the bed earlier to snug the ropes around his chest and waist, repeating this on both sides so he’s trapped in the middle of the mattress and can’t move an inch.  I test his confinement by periodically tickling him, if he can still move I tighten the ropes around his torso until he has zero wiggle room.  There comes a moment when it clicks with him, the general idea of what I’m up to and he looks at me like, “Really?  You’re going there?”  To which I just lean into kiss him and whisper, “You’re in a lot of trouble, mister.”

He shyly smiles at me and I return to the work of binding his legs, the entire length of them--not just his ankles--to the bed, so he can’t even wiggle his thighs.  This is the most important part, the part I’m counting on, so many of my plans hinge on being able to torture his exposed thighs and teasing his still hard and unused cock without him being able to turn away from me.  So when I tickle test him again and he can’t move at all, I snicker and leave the room, increasing his vulnerability, in order to retrieve the things I’ll use on him.  “Don’t go anywhere!”  I joke over my shoulder.  

Next comes the blindfold.  He’s seen me gathering most of what I’ll use on him so the general idea of what will happen can’t be a surprise.  And yet this addition always seems to quiet him, making him more compliant as he waits, down his ability to see or move.  So who am I to deny him the pleasure of denying his ability to see.  Plus he looks so cute in my red satin scarf that I use as a blindfold.

Who can remember what order I tease and hurt him in.  There’s ice cubes (especially cruel for the man who hates to be chilly), a pin wheel, clothes pins, tiny rope tied around his cock, a vibrator run along the ropes, and my hands or a cane applied to his thighs with him unable to flinch at the pain.  I occasionally brush his cock with my hands but not sexually, totally denying what he (and let’s face it, I) want.  So that by the time I untie his dick, it absolutely dripping with longing.  I take pity on him, lubing up my hands to stroke him to which he makes the most beautiful sighs and moans, louder and more plentiful than usual to make up for the fact that he can’t move.

Soon I can’t take it anymore, I tie his hands in a more comfortable position, and untie the waist ropes so that I can straddle him.  I take off the blind fold so that he can see I’m naked where I hadn’t been when I started and he can watch me fumble for and apply a condom to him.  The joint relieved sigh that issues from us is incredible and we smile at one another as I continue.  I fuck him until I can’t anymore and have to untie him and insist he take over. 

And yada, yada, yada…sex. 

Flash to the next afternoon, we’re sitting watching something dumb on TV or making a cheese plate or looking at dog pictures…any of those mundane activities we enjoy together when not fucking one another’s brains out, when he looks over at me.  “I have ideas for later.”  It’s said with that gleam in his eyes that I know exactly what he means.  My turn to feel shy, blush a little, and feel that lightening hot flash of lust pass through me right to my cunt.

“Oh really?”  He nods and waggles his eye brows at me.  “Well shit, this is the hazard of teaching you things, now you can use them against me.  Oh darn!”

No enormous surprise that later that night I find myself undressed and tied up much the same way I had tied him the night before.  “Oh gee I wonder what you have in mind.”

“Nothing, nothing.  Totally innocent and virtuous thoughts only.”

He even tosses me in the bed the same as I did to him before tying me to the bed in the same way.  I have to laugh as I resign myself to what’s about to happen, knowing just how screwed I am.  Probably literally.  And there’s the blind fold, and the rattle of the ice maker and the clink of the pin wheel and clothes pins.  He applies them all to me much in the same way I did to him expect meaner because I can take it.

“Is this what you mean when you say you like awkward rope and pain?” he asks at one point as I squeal and admit, “Yes!” 

And he places the evil new vibrator between my legs as an ever present torment and distraction.  Evil because it has settings built into it that are very good at keeping a person just on the edge of orgasm but never vibrating strong enough for release. It’s also surprisingly powerful, and able to drag orgasms out me, orgasms outside of my control, orgasms so powerful I lose the ability to speak or move or function as a human. Something he found out the other night when he helped vibrate me to an orgasm but then refused to stop, holdingme down until I couldn’t move anymore and screamed, “Fuck you, I hate you, shut up, I hate this, you’re terrible.”  Much to his great and endless amusement until he stopped just before I was worried I would pass out.

This in mind, I thought “oh shit” the second he turned that vibrator on and seated it in just the right place between my legs.  I knew exactly what he was up to and I wondered if I’d survive the number of orgasms I’m sure he was plotting. And what felt like an hour and a million and two orgasms later the answer is, just barely.  He did eventually untie me for…yada, yada, yada water, more sex, and oh so much cuddling.

This is how days later I’m pout/grinning about how exhausted my clit still is.

Vulnerable: Rope Journaling 10-26

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.