Smells like some Femdom on the Stove…
A little thing you should about me is that I am so nostalgic I can hardly function. Can’t help it. I grew up early enough to catch the imagery of the 50’s and 60’s, and in a part of the country that stayed that way into the 70’s. I come from a family of story tellers, teachers, reporters, scrapbookers …packrats.
Recently, my grandmother and spinster aunt who lived with her both passed away. And they were the ultimate ‘collectors’. Of everything. And, left it all to a family member who didn’t care too much to keep it, with understandable reasons. Long story short, as a result I have, in each room of my house, several boxes (as well as lots of unpacked stuff) of papers, scrapbooks half completed, play programs, postcards, matchbooks, maps…the stuff we all save and don’t ever do anything with. Much of this stuff will go at some point, I’m sure; but it needed going through, and I’d run out of time at the house before the estate sale, so I shoved the boxes in the car and brought them home. I’m going through them, slowly; and… the things I find. Wow. So telling of so much; it’s amazing what a box of papers and whatnots will tell you about a person. I find myself thinking a lot about the impact these women had on me, the impact my upbringing and environment had on my dominant desires and sexuality. I find so much tongue-in-cheek humor and things told to women…advice on how to catch a man, marry well, get what you want, control your man…that, while coming from a very misogynistic place, actually have not so hidden undertones of female superiority. It’s also just strange to look back on a world now so foreign and romanticized through these things.
Anyway. I found a cache of papers of my aunts that were in a box of stuff circa 1965- early ’70’s. ..about her late high school, college years. A pamphlet “Adjustment Within Marriage, Christian Answers to Family Problems”- which I haven’t even looked at yet, some papers, typed out- “Help Towards a Good Sex Adjustment in Marriage”- which is really fairly sound and open minded for the time, “What is a Wife?”, and “What is a Husband?”- also have not read yet, “The Girl I Won’t Marry”- which I will save for another post, and “49 Ways to Make Marriage More Exciting- Condensed From McCall’s”. Which is funny. And had this little “Important Recipe” at the end, that, read from a Femdom point of view, is even better! So, I had to share. I’m sure the original author, and my aunt, are somewhere, scandalized. My apologies.
A Most Important Recipe:
“Select the best man you can find and brush him carefully to rid him of any indifference. Be careful not to beat him as you would an egg, or cream, for beating will make him tough and apt to froth at the mouth.
Lift him gently into the home-preserving kettle and tie him with strong cords of affection which are not easily broken. Do not sear him with sarcasm, for that causes sputtering which may ultimately result in spontaneous combustion. Scramble when difficulties arise.
Do not soak him in liquor, for excessive draughts will make him mushy and spongy with your friends.
It is best to let him simmer tenderly at will, to blend tactfully with dressing and seasoning. Stuff him one hour before taking him out or before asking a favor of him.
Flavor him with oil of happiness, an ounce of understanding and a bushel of fun an laughter.
Should he seem weak or troubled with feminine infatuations, smother him in onions and double your charm.
Do not spoil him by overindulgence, but serve him daily on a platter of strength and courage, garnish with clean shirts and collars.”
More Monday Blahs…
I looked up today and it had been a whole week since my last post.
Vanilla tedium still insists on taking up most of my time; and the subjects salient to here on my mind are such that I need more time to think on them before writing something public.
I have one post on the subject of professional sex work/adult entertainment underway, which was already thus before maymay and Bitchy both had their posts on the subject. I’m too lazy to link those today, so- will do later. Now I need to find the time to read their posts and the comments and revise. Or maybe I’ll just write two posts.
And last weeks tragedy at Virginia Tech; particularly the focus on the gunman’s disturbed writings, took me back to a subject I’d meant to tackle at some point. Actually, a few. Mainly, last week, I was thinking about how some of my (and others) more kinky thoughts and fantasies, and even actions could be so SOOO misconstrued by those outside the BDSM world, and even those within (not that I am relating what happened to our community in that way, it just brought up the thought)- because it’s all really about one’s personal perception. And, with some personal history in my family of criminal behavior being tied to D/s behavior, I also wonder how much of it really ISN’T misconstrued. How much of what we do is exploration? How much of it is emotional instability, or real mental illness even? How do you know? Can you? And can, or should, we try? I don’t think any of us who know each other in the blogosphere, or BDSM/alternative community would look at an extreme bdsm story as a sign of mental illness; but in making the journey to that perspective do we lose sight of what society sees as ‘disturbed’? And if so, where does that leave those of us who enjoy our explorations and don’t think it makes us deviant or disturbed at all?
And truthfully, I’ve just been in a bit of web-hermit mode. I haven’t been to my friends blogs or any forums in a few weeks; not out of any problem with them or the community…just tired and busy with the boring stuff of life. I do have some romantic happenings, um- happening…but nothing I plan on blogging about for the time being. That may change, but it’s not on my agenda at the moment.
Monday Blahs
Not much to say today; sort of back on the ‘disgusted by the human race’ boat. I’m working on two fairly involved posts for later in the week and focusing on cleaning up some techie stuff here today; so this will be a short one.
But, Alexandra posted on her blog how sometimes, when she is frustrated with aspects of her relationship with Richard, she feels her dominant side show itself by wanting to punish Richard, or at least make him as miserable as she feels. And, I just wanted to say “whew”. Not just me? It touched on a few subjects I hope to explore more. Mainly that what I am now able to pinpoint as a sadistic or dominant urge, in my ‘vanilla’ life has been deemed unhealthy, undesireable, taking out my anger on others, makes me a bad person…..and so on. And of course, I don’t think that the urge to smack someone who pisses me off in traffic is a sadistic urge- we ALL get those. I mean, well….if you’re like me you know what I mean. For a long time I thought that just meant I was sick and twisted, and pushed that response in me waaaaay down. And now, particularly meeting with frustration in the dating arena, it’s sometimes the feeling that sparks the most interesting and far reaching fantasies of dominance and sadism. I have no desire to enact any of these thoughts upon a submissive from a place of anger or disappointment; but having these feelings inspire fantasies that are arousing is a little difficult to decide how I feel about it.
And the other thing I wanted to post, before I forget…
I was having a conversation with my mother last night. And discussing, with many details withheld -duh, my current dating life with her; a particularly frustrating situation that has been ongoing. She was giving me advice, and said that she wasn’t sure that I might just be too dominating a personality to be able to carry on a long term relationship with a man. All I could do was laugh….
Left Hanging
You thought you had me pegged. Sweet, a pushover, forgiving and trusting to the Nth degree. I wanted it that way. Did you not know?
That we do things my way? That while I was genuine, and meant every word I said, I also knew just what you were up to. That I had every intent of putting you in your place as just a piece of property, worthless, and useless without me; but that I was intent on knowing who you think you are first? That we were going to move at my pace, slow. That you had to work to make up for acting like an insolent twelve year old. That I am not going to just hand you what you want because you’re pretty, and well hung with a successful career; but instead give you enough rope to hang yourself, first? No, you didn’t know. You thought you had me pegged. And you took every inch of rope I gave you. Now you’ll never know. But this is a small taste.
Imagine we meet for dinner at a trendy place to see and be seen in; and I meet you at the bar. Of course I’m there before you, sipping my wine, drawing slowly on my cigarette, surveying. Swaggering ever so slightly, wearing your cockiness like an accessory as you stride in, unaware of my gaze- averted before you round the corner to the bar. I am going to really enjoy this.
As you sidle up to the bar, our eyes meet, and yours dance with confidence. Good, just how I want it. I smile coyly and duck my chin, tilt my head just a bit, looking up at you through doe eyes to show you how flattered I am that you even showed up. I mean, I’m just so nice and forgiving and after all you’ve stood me up, lied, played every predictable game…but I’m still here. Surely you have me where you want me. You order my drink and I bat my eyelashes over small talk, steering clear of any talk of play. Making sure you know how smitten I am. And I am. I see in front of me a beautiful body. A fast mind. And a selfish, self centered man. Over salad you begin to drop a bit of that wall you’ve kept up; and begin to show the cracks in your veneer. You’re sure of yourself, and of the mental image you’ve created of the poor me, desperate for attention woman in front of you. I make sure that I’m putty in your hands. I defer to you when you ask about desert, just for effect. By the time the waiter is crumbing the table for coffee, the sexual tension is palpable as is your apparent mental boredom. You’ve made clear that you think I’ll do anything to have you, and I’m counting on it. I know you don’t think I have any idea what I’m doing; that because I don’t call you ‘worm’ and I’ve put up with your games I’m just playing at being dominant. But I know you won’t lose a chance for at least some hot sex. And I allow you to spin your little line to suavely ask me back to your place.
I follow you to your apartment and to your door. A little fumbling of keys and we’re in, I walk past you as you shut the door and turn face to face with me. We both simply look into each other’s eyes for a moment, then tilt our heads and slowly lean into each other until our lips meet and suddenly we are mingled in a hungry, deep and passionate kiss. Hands flying over each others bodies, the build up of the past two months surging as clothing flies and you pick me up as I wrap my legs around your waist, and take me to your bedroom. In a blur we are naked; a tangle of limbs and lust, rolling and turning. Dominance and submission is forgotten as we melt in a puddle of our own juices and taste and take each other like animals.
An hour or so later I am riding atop you, facing your feet. I take the opportunity to strap on the ankle cuffs you left out, leaving them loosely tied together and to the bed frame so as not to disturb your footing, but to be useful later; all the while bouncing up and down on your hard shaft, caressing, scratching and kissing your legs and thighs so you don’t quite notice. I feel you begin to buck in that unmistakable animalistic staccato rhythm; feel your hips thrusting deeper. I push my knees farther apart, arching my back as your cock begins to swell and throb, and you begin to moan uncontrollably as I reach between your legs and gently squeeze your balls. (Not too hard. I ‘m not ready for that yet.) I grind hard when I feel you explode inside of me, cum surging out of you as I squeeze tighter, with my hands and my pussy. I sit straight up and begin to shudder in orgasm as you continue to throb, rolling my hips with the contractions, rubbing my clit as I climax and my pussy continues to squeeze rhythmically. I roll over to kiss you and collapse on your chest, your cock still inside me, both of us shuddering. We lay there, catching our breath together in unison until I feel you draw a deep, languid, satisfied breath. Now, I’m ready.
I rise to all fours in one motion over you to meet your eyes nose to nose. Your gaze belies a total lack of understanding of what is about to happen. Perfect. Squeezing my muscles tight so as not to loose a drop of seed as I move, using your shoulders as leverage, I pull myself upwards, planting my sticky wet pussy right on your unsuspecting lips as I pin your upper arms with my knees. Grabbing your hair with my left hand, spreading my lips with my right, I pull your face to me as I grind it into the pillow.
“Don’t miss a drop”
I hiss in a hoarse whisper as you begin to moan in pleasure and lap at me; but only for a few moments, as you begin to run out of air. I watch your eyes widen with concern as I cover your face and press harder into the bed, an evil grin creeping over my face. But you continue to lick furiously, tongue fucking, sure that I will give in quickly as I thrust. I grab your hair with both hands now and bear my full weight on your face, feeling your arms involuntarily pushing against my knees. I loosen my grip on your head just enough to adjust and allow you a millimeter of breathing space, your gasp is audible; and I cut it short, jerking you quickly back into place.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?”
I tease as you begin to buck and twist beneath me, trying to turn your head side to side to gain any access to air. Your face is turning red with lack of oxygen, and by now you’ve discovered your ankles are bound in place, albeit loosely, enough to hamper your ability to gain enough footing to lift your body off of the bed.
“Is it good cum, slut?”
I ask, you nod furiously beneath my body, which I take full advantage of as you begin to look really desperate. My clit is swollen and each flicker of your tongue sends shock waves through me as I begin to feel my whole pelvis tingle and fill with my juices.
“Suck out every last drop and you can breathe”
I demand as I lean in, pinning your head in place and grabbing your hands in mine. I hear you gulping, slurping, as you strain against me and I rock back and forth on your face until I explode into orgasm; squirting copious amounts of liquid that streams down your cheeks and throat as you struggle to swallow it all. Satisfied, I lift myself, creamy seed and saliva stringing between us as you arch your back drawing in a long gurgling breath. I let you draw in deeply for a moment but not a full breath, then I sit back on your chest and watch you draw in air in short, quick breaths, hampered by my weight on your lungs, eyes closed, still pinned in place by my knees.
“Are you ready for a full breath?”, I ask, reaching back and caressing your limp dick as you nod.
“I’m going to get off of you now, and you are going to roll over like a good slut. Are we clear?”
You hesitate for a moment and I grasp the base of your balls tightly, squeezing them hard; rising above your face at the same time.
“Yes Mistress” you manage, and I lift myself from you and off the bed, watching you wriggle onto your belly and lay there spent, gasping as I gather some items from my bag.
“Are you ready for that ass fucking you’ve been begging for?” I ask, as you turn to look at me; expecting a strap on, finding me holding a blindfold and wrist shackles.
“yeeesss Mistress” you moan, grinning. Like a slut, you spread your legs best as you can and lift your ass into the air, an expectant smile on your face as I strap the blindfold on.
“Give me your hands” I ask dulcetly, swinging my leg over you and straddling your thighs.
You bring them behind you lazily, and I strap the first gauntlet on, then the second, then clip them together in a four way hogtie clip. Knowing you expect a strap on, I take the large ass plug I’ve brought and lube it up a little before holding it to my pelvis and teasing the tip over your smooth ass cheeks. Moaning, you arch your back and push your knees apart, and I wrap my free hand around your hip, pulling you closer as I bring my knees between yours, ‘accidentally’ grazing your balls and leaning over your back.
“Wider bitch” I whisper into your ear as I lick and bite your earlobe, forcing your legs further apart with my knees and feeling your hips tilt in anticipation.
I raise back up to my knees and take the five inch plug in hand like a strap on, sliding it up and down your eager crack, tracing your sweet spot and perineum, watching as your breath increases and you draw your knees closer to you so you can lift your ass higher, resting on your face. I part your ass cheeks with my free hand and swirl the tip of the plug over your puckered hole, pressing gently as you moan into the pillow in pleasure. I reach down and caress your balls and feel your cock hardening as I tease you with the first half inch of my tool, lulling you into anticipation.
“Mmmm, finally” I hear you say, your voice muffled by the wight of your own body pressing it into the bed.
I grab the fourway between your wrists like a handle and pull hard, forcing the plug into you up to its widest point. No warm up for that.
“What’s that?” I demand as your moan transforms from lazy pleasure into shocked pain.
“aaaAAAaauugghh”… I feel your sphincter react violently against the intrusion and thrust it just a touch deeper, bringing your half-moan-yell to a gasping scream before easing it back a few inches.
“That’s what I thought, now I said WIDER, bitch!” I lean down to lift the blindfold and look into your eyes, now wide and alarmed as I use my powerful thighs to press yours even farther apart.
“You’d have gotten a nice strap on fuck if you hadn’t played all those games” I tell you, pushing the plug back in, not as far; as you avert your eyes. “But now all you get is a pacifier. Because you’ve done nothing but act like a spoiled child” I replace the blindfold and lift back up, and plunge the whole length of the thick plug inside of you, pulling back on your wrist shackles for leverage as you buck uncontrollably, unable to escape or force it out, moaning loudly.
“Go ahead and struggle, you know it will only make it worse” I tell you, jerking on the retrieval cord and smirking as you settle into place, clearly in pain.
Better”, I assure you; releasing your wrists and maintaining the tension of the plug against your ass while reaching down to caress your balls.
Watching you try to slow your breathing and adjust to the three inch thick plug deep inside of you, I stroke your semi-soft cock briefly before slipping four connected cock rings over the head and firmly down to the base, forcing your balls through the large bottom ring one by one. As I adjust the gates of hell contraption on your cock I can see you twisting and struggling to see if you can glimpse what I am doing, as your blindfold has slipped. No matter now, as I clip the top ring, now around the head of your cock, to the base of the ass plug (conveniently it has a small hoop to which the retrieval cord is also attached) with a short chain, drawing it slightly back. Then I move myself off of the bed, untying the rope connecting your ankle shackles to the bed frame and drawing it tight, bringing them together with one hand and placing the other firmly on the small of your back, forcing your hips to the bed and securing them there with my knee. Hair awry, blindfold half on, red cord hanging from your slut hole, cum smeared from ear to ear and eyes wide, you look perfectly ridiculous; helpless with your wrists bound, your cock bent downward between your thighs, ankles bound tightly and lifted off the bed by the rope loop.
I jerk them up to meet with your wrists, neatly snapping them into the fourway at the d-rings; leaving the rope in place. I step back to admire my handiwork for a second, then kneel on the bed next to you and take the rope still looped through the d-rings on your ankle cuffs and loop it under your wrists. I take an elbow with each hand, pulling them together until you arch your back to ease the tension and I can hold them in place with one arm; leaning over to hold you- you aren’t struggling much- I grasp the rope with my free hand and pull the loop up to the elbows, keeping it tight. I release your arms, now using both hands to quickly wrap the rope several times around your forearms, rendering you completely hogtied, unable to move save your head. NOW I can admire my handiwork; and I remove the blindfold and step back to look at you laying arched and trussed up on your own bed as you stammer.
“I..I…uh…..I didn’t..uh”
“you didn’t expect this? I know. Now, where’s that gag you mentioned having?”
You eye the closet. “On the shelf in there.” Your voice wavers.
I light a cigarette and wander into the bathroom to clean up a bit; I hear you rustling in the sheets and open a few drawers, rummage around loudly a bit, just to spook you. I come back out and head to the closet, predictably piled with clothes and shoes; and grab the bit gag off of the shelf just inside the door. I walk back over to the bed, flicking my ashes on your back and sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning on my elbow against your ribs as I finish my smoke. Watching you watch me, smoking, ashing on you. I know you are wondering where I’ll put that out; but I don’t plan to mark you with a burn. Today. But you don’t know that, and I trace the hot tip of the burning cigarette across your back, down the inside of your thigh, and watch you draw in your breath and brace for the coming sizzle of burning skin. I singe a few leg hairs and just as you tightly close your eyes and tense up in anticipation, I get up from the bed and put the smoke out in the ashtray on the bed, smiling at you and grabbing the bit. I lean down and brush your hair back, slipping a hand under your jaw to help you lift up to accept the gag; pushing it unnecessarily hard into your already open mouth at the last moment and fastening it tightly from behind. I replace the blindfold and straighten and smooth the sheets.
“I’m going to take a shower. Do not move, nod if you understand”
You nod vigorously; and I lay a short length of rope horizontally across your hogtie, making sure it lay in a smooth line from one side of the bed to the other.
“It will be disturbed if you move; you know I don’t trust you”. I pat your ass and head off to take a long, hot shower, leaving the door open. Finishing, I leave the water on so you won’t hear as I dry myself and brush my hair into a quick bun. Moving stealthily I retrieve the handmade fiberglass cane and over the door solid steel belt hanger/hook I brought from my bag in the living room and return to the bedroom to find you laying perfectly still, facing the opposite direction, clearly breathing with focus as relaxed as can be expected. Standing beside the bed, I place the hook on the floor slowly, rise and position myself carefully just level with your hips. I raise the cane above my head and bring it down whipping through the air, landing on the fleshy exposed outer part of your ass cheek with a smart thwap; and you scream through the bit in surprise as you turn to try and face me despite the blindfold. I kneel on the bed, giving the welt a few seconds to rise before applying the same treatment to your other cheek; leaving a nice pair of reddening stripes in the hollows where hip turns into ass, and pulling the loose rope aside.
“Ooooaaaaaghghoooo” You are half moaning, half yelling; as I force your knees apart and begin to lightly tap the insides of your thighs, alternating quickly between legs with light, almost caressing taps. You begin to visually ease and I grab the cord connected to the ass plug and now your cock and yank, hard; pulling it back so it stretches your slutty hole, then letting go before your muscles can force it out. Your cock is beginning to harden and my contraption is doing it’s job; as you stiffen the chain is pulled taught.. and the harder you get, the harder it pulls against your ass plug, pulling the cock into an awkward downward curve as the plug is pulled on. Nice, I’d hoped that would work. I return to the cane, applying two lighting quick and white hot stripes to your upper back in an X, not quite successfully avoid marking your upper arms. It is a pleasure to watch you arch your back in agony as I return to short, quick slaps at your exposed cock and balls with the tip, leaving small red raised welts.
“Not the spankings you wanted, huh, slut?” I taunt, caressing your balls and the base of your cock with my other hand, watching as it throbs involuntarily and you wince and moan on agony as it begins to pinch against the steel rings and force your asshole open wider as it strains against the chain connected to it’s plug.
I get up from the bed and grab a pillow, stopping to survey the damage and place one more swift blow on each of your outer thighs; placing the cane on the bedside table and bending down to grab the hook as you writhe from the sting. I head over to the open closet door and place the hook over the top of the door, closing it firmly and placing the pillow on the floor in front of it. I stride back to you, taking the top sheet from the foot of the bed and folding it in half.
“Remember I asked how much you weighed?” I ask, placing the halved sheet carefully on the floor beside the bed.
You just lay there.
“Afraid? Good.” I smirk, and grasp the leather part of the four way tie like a handle, sliding you to the edge of the bed.
“You’re going on the floor, knees first. You can help, or not; it will only be easier on you if you do” I tell you as I grab the crooks of your knees and begin to swing your legs off of the bed. You nod, and I lower your knees to the floor, leaving your chest leaning against the bed like a lean-to.
“Ok, ready?”; you nod again and I bend my knees and wrap my hands around your bound forearms, leaning back to lift you from the bed and swing you around enough to lower you to the sheet. Once you are prone on the floor I grab the edge of the sheet and drag you over to the closet; returning to the bed for the length of rope that had been across your back. I return to you, adjusting the sheet so that you are parallel with and about six inches from the door, knees centered in the middle of the door frame below the hook; then focus on the rope work. Doubling the rope, I make a slip knot over the hogtie, and toss the rest of the rope over the hook, pulling it down and holding it taut under my knee. Kneeling behind you I place the pillow behind your knees and hold it in place with mine, both to block you from sliding and to cushion them; and begin to lift you using your shoulders and the tension of the rope. It is a slight struggle, but I’ve planned this, and slip a knee under your body as soon as there is space, pulling the rope and pushing up on your chest until you are upright; teetering on your knees, feet and hands bound tightly behind your ass. I steady you and ‘walk’ you backwards, so your back is parallel now with the door, leaning you against it as I shove the pillow under your knees before moving my attention behind you. Loosening the slipknot, I move it from the hogtie up to your elbows, then tighten it again, pulling the loop out and tying it off so it doesn’t cut off your circulation. I then stand, pull the slack rope tightly over the hook and looping it once, wrapping the end around my hand tightly as I slowly tilt you forward so you are tipped out over the floor, held back only by the rope. I pull all my weight on the rope, making sure it will hold your weight where I want you; then wrap it around the doorknob several times and tie it off securely. I lift the blindfold and my right arm at the same time, bringing it down as hard as I can to apply a vicious open palmed slap across your face. Watching you shake it off I step back, smiling.
“You left me hanging. Not once, or twice. Even after I asked you not to. You had me plan a trip here just to see you and backed out when it was too late for me to cancel my reservations. You abandoned deep conversations just to be cruel. You thought you had me where you wanted me, and you left me hanging every chance you got. And now you are learning your lesson. I don’t like to be left hanging. I think you should know what it feels like.”
Your eyes followed me as I found my panties and bra, slipping them on as we watched each other. I wandered around the apartment to retrieve my clothes, dressed, put on my shoes, and lit another smoke; strolling back over to you, hanging there. I pulled the blindfold back in place, checked the pillow and bindings, then knelt and began to lick the head of your cock slowly, stroking the underside with my fingers and sucking a few inches into my mouth to feel it swell as you moaned. Rising abruptly, I grabbed my purse, cane and keys, and strode out of the room, my shoes clicking on the floor as I heard your moan turn to yells of protest through the gag. I smiled to myself as I reached the front door, jingling my keys loudly as I opened it and slamming it shut.
Of course I wasn’t going to leave you there. I stood on the porch, finishing my smoke and wishing I’d turned on your webcam…or there was a way to watch you through the second story window. I waited about ten minutes and put the butt out and slowly turned the doorknob, pushing the door open slowly; slipping my shoes off as I crept back inside. I padded back into your bedroom and stood in the doorway, watching you. Sweat dripping from your brow and neck, and your cock was now limp. You’d obviously struggled, the pillow gone from under your knees, the rope loosened such that you were hanging about two feet from the floor, leaning askew to the left. But now you were still, hanging slackly against the rope, your head drooping; resting or having given up I could not tell. I crept up to you and leaned down, lifting your chin with my hand as I kissed your forehead and your head jerked back in surprise. I removed the blindfold and you met my eyes sheepishly as your tear streaked face was exposed. Clearly you’d been considering the possibility that I really had left you there, to be found like that.
“Ready to come down?”
I was already behind you as you nodded, untying the rope and lowering you to the sheet on your belly and slipping the rope from your arms; unbinding your forearms, unclipping the hogtie and allowing you to stretch your legs.
I sat beside you, still bound at the wrists and ankles, and gagged, caressing your neck with feather light fingertips, tracing the contours of your back and sides; flattening my palms over your ass cheeks before lightly dragging my nails across them on the way back up to run my hands through your hair, raising goose bumps across your skin. I smooth the hair across your forehead and tilt my head to look you in the eyes, laying there.
“Did you like being left hanging?”
You looked away and shook your head, and I leaned over and kissed your cheek before untying your ankles and spreading your legs. Unhooking the cock rings from the ass plug, I warn you:
“Bear down”; and slowly pull the plug from your ass, red and dilated. I massage your cheeks a little, squeezing them, and kissing each of the twin stripes outlining its roundest part. I unclip the wrist shackles, and stand.
“You can manage the rest yourself, I’m sure.” I say as I rise and head towards the door, turning to see you roll over in surprise, struggling to your feet. But I’d reached the front door by that time, and you’d forgotten the gag as you stumbled to the door to protest my departure.
Besides, I wanted you to have plenty of time to compose your apology.
DNS Snafu
Site went down last night and has been for the last 12 hours…sorry. Just a dumb mistake in a DNS transfer. And, a really really slow response from my host. 