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No Rest for the Wicked

Category: BDMS
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You walk into the room, soft heavy curtains closing behind you blocking the light from the hall. It is dim, candles providing the only light, their flickering crating more shadows than they dispel. You peer round in the gloom, noticing the deep velvet drapes hiding the windows, the soft, dark carpet underfoot.

As your eyes become accustomed to the near darkness, you notice other things hanging on the wall, the things that have brought you here, the chains decoratively hung alongside the riding crop and handcuffs framed by an elegant array of leather restraints.

Standing in the gloom, you feel her presence before you see her as she steps from behind one of the curtained recesses. She is dressed for the occasion, a long, black, velvet dress skimming her figure, the sleeves coming to points over her long hands, the hem just reaching the floor. She orders you to sit on the chair near the entrance to the room and you do so as she glides round, lighting more candles and oil lamps, increasing the light and letting you get a better look at her.

She seems taller than you recall and your eyes are drawn to the hem of her dress, where you see the spiked heels of her shoes as she moves, the metal tips catching the light as she illuminates her playground. She catches you looking and smiles softly, her red lips looking inviting and wet, her smile that of a predator, never really reaching her eyes that glitter with a streak that makes you half afraid, half intrigued as to where this woman will take you without even leaving the confines of the room.

When the room is illuminated to her satisfaction, you can see more of the instruments of her work hanging on the walls, or set out on tables dotted around the room like rare antiques displayed in a museum. Ropes lie coiled, looking innocent until you think on their uses, then they become like coiled snakes in your mind. The thought of the feel of the ropes against your skin fills you with trepidation as well as heightening your excitement, knowing that this is what you have come here for. You have come to submit yourself to this woman.

You have known her for quite some time, although not like this. Normally people would never have guessed at her other occupation, her business suits during the week, t-shirts and jeans at weekends belying this figure before you. You notice her nails are as red as her lipstick, long, sharp and dangerous looking. You want to feel them on your bare flesh and feel your heart speed up as the thought arouses you. She moves towards you and you notice the slit in her skirt as it exposes a long length of her slender leg, the top of her sheer stocking making a brief appearance before it is covered by the black velvet once more. She stands before you, legs slightly apart, the slight scent of her musky perfume drifting towards you. She looks you up and down as you sit on the chair like a nervous schoolboy caught doing something naughty in class and sent to the headmistress.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries” she purrs at you. Her voice is different to normal, huskier, and you feel your body responding to the silky sound, chest hair prickling against your shirt as your skin puckers with the anticipation of what is to come. You feel your groin tighten as she walks round you, trailing a finger round your collar bone and across your back, inspecting you as you sit with your hands in your lap.

“Stand and strip” she orders. “Everything off. I want to see what I have to work with”.

You feel your body responding to the order automatically as you stand and start undoing your shirt. She watches you for a moment before walking away from you towards one of the tables. She pauses for a moment, looking over her shoulder at you, her eyes judging you and you wonder what she is thinking. You pause in your undressing a moment too long for her and her impatience shows as she turns towards you.

“Having second thoughts, or just being lazy?” Her voice is sharper, but still has that same low tone that makes your skin prickle and your prick stir into slight wakefulness.

“No Miss” you reply, undressing a little faster. She seems satisfied with your answer and turns back to the table, selecting a coil of rope. You keep undressing, your shirt thrown over the back of the wooden chair and you bend to undo your shoes, slipping them off, stuffing your socks in them before putting them under the chair. You stand up from this to find her stood right in front of you. You start slightly at the sight of her. She has moved so silently over to you, but you feel the thick pile of the carpet under your feet that has deadened the sound of her approach. She carries a coil of rope in her hands as well as the riding crop you noticed earlier. The crop is hanging from one finger, the strap by the handle looped over it and you can see it move as she impatiently jiggles her hand waiting for you.

You stand in front of her, just your trousers and shorts saving you from total nakedness, and wonder at yourself. She looks at you then looks down at your trousers, reminding you of what you are supposed to be doing. You can feel yourself getting harder as she looks at you and you undo your trousers sliding them over your hips, taking your shorts at the same time, and letting them fall to the floor together.

“Pick them up” she orders, and you step out of them, bending to retrieve them from the floor. As you bend, you almost feel the movement as she brings the crop across your bare buttocks, gently, just a stroke, but it makes you flinch just the same, as if she had brought her full weight behind it. You pick up your discarded clothing, folding it and placing it over the back of the chair along with your shirt.

You turn back towards her, your prick fully hard as she stands there looking at your nakedness. She smiles slightly as she sees your arousal. She steps back, beckoning you to step forward. You do so, bare feet sinking into the pile of the carpet that feels wonderfully soft, the sensation heightened by the situation. You walk forward, away from the chair, five, six, seven paces, into the middle of the room until you are almost touching her body with yours, your prick barely an inch from the black velvet before she makes you stop.

She steps away from you again, walking round you, trailing the crop around your body, across your bare buttocks again, up your back, over your shoulder until she is in front of you again, the tip of the crop resting just at the base of your prick.

“I see you shaved for the occasion” she comments, looking at where the crop is resting.

“Yes Miss, just as you ordered” you respond, having spent a good 20 minutes that morning making sure every inch of your prick, balls and pubic area were smooth and hairless. She specifically told you that you should do this when you discussed the meeting the previous day. You had spoken about many things, limits, what you expected from her, what she expected of you, and now you are here in her playroom, waiting for the next order.

She flourishes her other hand and you see a glint of silver. She produces a thick ring of steel and slides it over the head of your prick. The metal is cold on your skin and the sensation of the cold metal on your hot hardness is delicious. It is tight and you wonder what she is going to do with it. Your unspoken question is answered when she drops the coil of rope and the crop and bends slightly to hold the head of your prick as she slides the ring on further, pushing it all the way down to the base. It feels tight, but not uncomfortable and the feeling of having the warming metal sliding down your shaft with her hand holding the rest of your prick as she slides it lower is a delicious sensation, heightening your arousal.

She only holds your prick long enough to get the ring in place, then releases it, stepping back to admire the ring glinting softly around the base of your erection. You look down at it as she does, marvelling that it looks so tight yet feels so comfortable round the base, your prick looking longer, and you wonder if it is because of the ring or whether it is just because there is no hair hiding the base, the ring defining the point where your prick meets the soft flesh of your belly.

You look up at her again to see that she has retrieved the coil of rope from the floor and has doubled it over, tying a knot in the folded end, leaving a small loop. She ties another knot further down the double strands of rope, about a foot from the first knot and you wonder what this is for. You don’t have time to wonder too long before she slips the loop between the two knots over your head, leaving the smaller end loop behind your neck, the long, loose ends of the rope hanging down your front, brushing against your prick. She deftly ties more knots at small intervals down the rope till she has several knots, the rope bumping against your arousal as she works. The knots go down as far as your thighs and your prick is close to her face as she works on the rope. You wish she would just turn her head a little and lick you, suck you as you stand there, but she does not.

Once she has the rope tied to her satisfaction, she stands before you again and looks at you. She has said very little and you have followed her lead. She doesn’t explain the rope hanging round your neck, and you are staring into her eyes as she suddenly takes a hold of your prick, one hand sliding gently up and down the shaft for a moment before you feel the rope slipping over it. She places one of the loops created by the knots over your hardness, one knot sitting just above the base, and she loops your balls through, a knot sitting a short way behind them. She slides the rest of the rope between your legs and steps behind you.

The rope is drawn up behind you and you feel a slight tug at your neck. You realise that she is passing the ends of the rope through the loop behind you and feel the rope down your chest tighten as she pulls it through as far as she can. A knot slides between your buttocks and rests, not uncomfortably between the cheeks. You wonder what is coming as you stand there, but she steps round in front of you and reaches behind you, under your arms, pulling the loose ends of the rope round to the front from either side of you, sliding the ends through between the top two knots on your chest and pulling them all the way through. You feel the rope over your neck tighten slightly and the knots between your legs shift as she pulls.

Moving round behind you again, you feel her tugging on the rope ends, but you can’t see what she is doing. You just feel it getting a bit tighter and you can feel the ropes moving through each other as she works behind you. Soon she is in front of you, repeating the process one set of knots further down. As she works down, the rope between the knots opens into diamond shapes down your front, the whole thing becoming increasingly tight as she works. The rope round your genitals tightens and grips you even more as she works, the knot behind them sliding up towards the base, bunching your balls behind it, and the knot between your cheeks moving slightly with each passing of the ropes round your chest. The last pass of the ropes goes through the ropes round your prick, and you feel her hands cool against the heat of your erection as she works. You realise then that you are more aroused than you thought possible without having sex, your prick straining against the ring, the tightness of the metal and the ropes almost completely trapping the blood in your erection, making you harder.

As she pulls these ropes apart, the diamond forming round your genitalia, the knot between your cheeks moves to rest on your sphincter, sending a delicious chill up your spine. You didn’t expect something like that to feel so good, and you feel slightly ashamed that the feeling of something pressing into your arse has this effect on you. You wonder for a moment if this feeling is normal for a heterosexual male with no gay tendencies and you panic slightly, your eyes raising up to meet hers. You notice the amused look in her eyes and know that she is fully aware of what you are thinking.

“You like that, do you?” she enquires with a slight smile playing on her lips. You don’t answer, feeling yourself blush and she smiles more. “It’s OK, it’s perfectly normal to like it. It’s just you guys have a tendency to avoid having your arse played with in case people think you are gay. As you can feel, it’s an interesting sensation, and quite pleasurable once you get over the initial shock of finding another erogenous zone.” She laughs softly, an amused laugh that has you smiling as well, your embarrassment lessened by the though of it being OK to like the knot resting where it is.

She finishes her work of tying you into what you later discover is a Japanese Rope Harness, tying the ropes off behind your back leaving a tail that hangs down behind you, brushing the back of your knees which tickles slightly. She walks towards another low table and beckons you over to her. You walk slowly over, the rope work pulling into you slightly as you move, the knot on your arse moving slightly and sending more shivers up your spine and down your prick. The table that she has beckoned you over to has more ropes on it and she selects another. She walks round you, looking at you critically, and you can see her wondering what to do with you next.

With the rope she has selected, she moves behind you, trailing her nails over your belly and catching one of your wrists in her hand as she does. She pulls the wrist behind you not unkindly, and you feel her wrap the rope round your wrist a few times before you feel it tighten slightly as she knots it. She reaches round you and grips your other wrist, pulling it beside the other, tying it in the same way, using the long end of the rope she has already bound your other wrist with. The rope isn’t tight, but you know you won’t be able to slip out of it and you know you are now almost completely in her power. Only your feet are free, but you have a feeling that they won’t remain so for too much longer.

You can feel her behind you, still working with the rope and you feel it coiling round your arms, pulling them together. Your thoughts go back to when you first saw the ropes, imagining them as snakes, and now you feel the constrictor winding it’s way up your arms, binding them behind you, pulling your shoulders back, straining your chest against the fetters she has already put in place. The feeling is an interesting combination of imprisonment combined with the erotica of being in this woman’s power and you like it. You look down at your prick marvelling at how hard it is, the candlelight glinting off the jewelled drop of pre-cum resting on the tip.

As you lose yourself in the glint of candlelight, marvelling at how aroused you are without any of the usual precursors to this level of excitement, she finishes knotting the ropes round your arm, and you are oblivious to her movement, hypnotised by the jewelled drop as it moves rhythmically on the tip of your prick, your heartbeat pumping it in gentle movement. She watches you for a moment, before bringing you back to the present with a finger under your chin raising your head to look into her eyes. Her other hand dips to the end of your prick, gently wiping the drop off the end onto her finger. She raises this finger up between you and you can see the glistening smear over her fingertip. She smiles as she raises it to her lips and you shiver involuntarily as her tongue darts out from between her white teeth and tastes the liquid on her finger.

You are caught unawares as she moves again. “Stick your tongue out” she orders and you do so, opening your mouth and sliding your tongue out, wondering what she is going to do. She slides the finger she has just half-licked over your tongue and you taste yourself on there. A slightly sweet taste with just an edge of salt and you blush again when you realise that you like the flavour of yourself. You look up again from your blush and see her smiling, and realise that this is just like the rope pressing on your arse: another sensation that you have denied yourself in case you are seen as gay. She knows better though, and sees it as something that you have needed to try for a very long time, but have resisted. Now she has the power to make you try all these things and you both know it. The knowledge is erotic and arouses you more.

She turns away again, pulling a chair with a broad seat and tall, slim back towards you.

“Sit” she orders you again, and you do so, gently, feeling the knot in your arse pressing further into you, not uncomfortably but pleasurably. She guides your arms over the back of the chair so your back is resting on the laddered backrest, with your arms behind it. She pushes your feet apart with the toe of her shoe, another slit of stockinged leg coming into view as she does so and hiding again just as fast: a swift glimpse that you would have missed had you not been looking at her legs as she moved your feet. Your eyes skim up over the contours of the dress, skin tight against her form, outlining her, hugging every inch of her and you realise that she is not wearing a bra, her nipples erect against the fabric making two exclamation points to her own arousal at having you like this.

Before you have a chance to stare at this evidence of her own private enjoyment, she has moved away again, pulling two more ropes from the table close by. She kneels before you, almost between your feet and you once again long for her to bend, open the scarlet slash of her mouth and take your prick in whole, rubbing her tongue over it. The thought of her sucking on you makes your balls tighten slightly and you feel their movement, fettered as they are, against the wood of the seat base. Another drop of pre-cum appears on the tip of your prick and you long for her to share it with you again, but she has other things on her mind.

She bends toward your knees, a stray lock of hair escaping from the tight chignon that she has piled her hair into for the occasion brushing against your skin. You feel her tie your ankle to the outside of the chair leg, binding it up almost to your knee before tying the end off, and then repeating the process with the other leg. You are now fully bound: arms, legs torso, prick, all tied with the same care and dedication. You are there, legs spread, displaying your arousal to her, more pre-cum slicking the tip of your hardness, sliding over the head and tickling slightly as it moves down the curve and smearing itself on your belly where your prick is resting, your heartbeat movement raising and lowering your prick from it’s resting place slightly, sticky strings of your arousal joining the tip to your belly as it moves.

Standing again, she looks over her handiwork and nods almost imperceptibly. She seems satisfied with the ropes binding you, immobilising you and leaving you completely at her mercy. You watch her as she moves around, looking at you from every angle before coming to stand in front of you once more, this time with her legs slightly apart, the riding crop back in one hand, the other hand holding an odd item that you cannot identify. It is a black bar, with a very dull sheen to it, two large rings on either side, with a leather strap on either end, one with holes in, the other with a buckle on it. She takes this and rubs the black bar on the tip of your prick, and you can feel that it is rubber as she smears your pre-cum over it. The feeling of it rubbing over your prick is erotic, arousing and a small moan of pleasure escapes your lips. You move slightly against it, feeling the knot in your arse pressing and moving as you do, the rubber moving against you as you move to rub your prick on it more. She pulls it away and you keep moving for a moment, savouring the feeling of your arse being pressed against. You realise that you have closed your eyes and you open them again.

She is stood watching you, smiling again. “Open your mouth” she orders and you do, wondering what she is going to do. She places the rubber bar in your mouth, the rings resting on your cheeks, and you taste the salty-sweetness of your pre-cum on the rubber bit gag as she buckles it behind your neck. You lick at the gag, enjoying the taste again, although you preferred it on her finger.

Moving back round, she stands before you again, feet apart, hands holding both ends of the crop behind her back and you can imagine it pressing into the soft flesh of her buttocks as she stands. She moves her feet further apart and the slash in her dress falls open to the thigh, the length of her leg exposed from her high heeled shoe, right up to the lace stocking top, and you can see the suspender holding it in place against her creamy skin. She sees where you are looking and lets go of the end of the crop to pull the skirt more open, pushing the material behind her leg to expose more of her. You realise that the slit is longer than you expected as the lace of her suspender belt comes into view and you know you want to reach out and touch the creamy skin under the skimpy lace. Your arms are bound, and the slight frustration fuels your need to touch this woman teasing you with her body.

She moves closer to you, standing with one leg between yours, the other sliding over the skin of your outer thigh, the silkiness of her stocking raising another shiver from your body. She teases you, leaning towards you, sliding her tongue out and licking your lips, exposing her cleavage to you, and even in the dimness of the room, as you look down between her breasts at the creamy skin that has been exposed to your view, you can see the slight slick of her perspiration caused by her own arousal.

You know you want this woman, this temptress who slides so close, letting you see her smooth skin, her erect nipples still pushing against the fabric of her dress as she slides herself up your leg till your prick almost touches her, then pulling herself away from you again.

The crop is discarded, as she seems to feel that it is just an encumbrance; that she is not going to need to correct you now that she has you totally at her mercy. She trails her hand over your chest, nails catching on the ropes and pulling them ever so slightly. She moves again, this time to move her other leg to outside yours and wraps one hand round the back of your neck, pulling herself onto your lap, sitting astride you still too far away for your prick to touch, but close enough to tease. She wraps a hand almost lazily round one of the knots on your chest and pulls it slightly. You feel the rope move ever so slightly, the knot on your arse sending shivers up your spine again and the one under your balls lifting them a fraction.

She knows exactly what you want, but she is also going to take her time giving it to you. You know that she is going to tease and the knowledge makes your breath catch as she reaches towards your prick, trailing one scarlet nail all the way from the base to the tip, catching another jewel and raising it to her mouth to delicately lick it off again. Your eyes follow every move she makes and your breath catches as she seductively licks her finger, wrapping her scarlet lips round it and sucking it the way you wish she would suck your hard prick. You gasp slightly and your eyes close as her other hand, unnoticed till this point, wraps itself around your prick and starts sliding slowly up and down, a gentle touch that you move against, willing her to tighten her hand, to stroke you harder and fuck you with her fingers. She doesn’t tighten her hand and the frustration just makes the sensations more erotic.

You almost cry out in frustration when she stops stroking you and you open your eyes to see her moving her hands to the almost invisible buttons that run diagonally down from her cleavage to the slit in the thigh of her dress. She unbuttons the dress slowly, exposing inch by inch of her skin to your gaze, the material still covering her breasts but exposing her stomach and once again you want to touch her, to run your hands over that exposed flesh and push the rest of the material off. She is agonisingly slow unbuttoning, but eventually she gets to the last fastening and the weight of the material pulls the dress to one side enough to expose her breast with the hard nipple in the centre to you. Still moving slowly, she pulls the other half of the dress over, exposing her other breast and your gaze travels over this, down her body to the suspender belt and small scrap of lace covering the part between her legs that you ache to explore.

She sits there on your lap, astride you, her thighs resting on yours, their heat matched by yours and she moves ever so slightly forward so your prick is barely an inch from that small scrap of lace. She reaches down again to stroke you, sliding her hand over you, thumb smearing the pre-cum over the tip and pulling you slightly towards her so the shiny head of your swollen desire brushes against the lace. It feels slightly rough against your slicked hardness, contrasting with the smoothness of her fingers on you, but you revel in the sensation of being that close to her. She leans into you, her breasts brushing against your roped chest, and you feel her hard nipples as they brush so close to your own, her hand releasing your prick to come up behind your neck. She pulls herself onto you, the scrap of lace all that is keeping you from having your prick resting on her wetness, and you know she is wet: the lace between her legs is warmly moist against your erection as she grinds onto you, leaning to kiss your lips round your gag, licking you and you move your prick against the small hard button of her clitoris that you can feel pressed into you.

A small moan escapes you once more as you feel her weight shift off you, he kisses and licks continuing, but moving to trail down your neck, chest and lower. You watch as she kneels between the legs of the chair, her hands still on your chest, sliding lower to grasp your erection. You watch as she pulls your hardness towards her, the slick wetness of the head moving inexorably towards the red slash of her mouth as her lips part. She pauses and you groan again in frustration as you feel her breath on the tip, her mouth millimetres from you, and you want to be in her mouth, her hot tongue all over you.

Her tongue slides out with almost dreamlike slowness to brush almost imperceptibly over the tip, the slight contact sending shivers of electricity all the way up your prick to your balls. Almost as soon as this first shock has passed, another sends it’s waves of erotic sensation up your shaft as her lips part and she slides that scarlet mouth over the tip, tongue working to lick all the pre-cum from you. She sucks in more, sliding her mouth up and down you, tongue working over you, teeth just sliding over and giving a counterpoint to the sensation. She works lower still, taking more and more of you in as you throw your head back and revel in the feeling of her sucking you, her hand stroking your balls as she does so. You know that you will come soon if she doesn’t stop, and she knows it too as she slides her mouth off you.

She stands again, leaning in to you to release the gag from your mouth before kissing you deeply, her tongue invading your mouth as her breasts brush against your chest. You can taste yourself on her and you want her more.

Straightening herself once more, she stands before you and shrugs out of the shoulders of the dress, peeling the tight-fitting sleeves off and letting the whole thing drop to the floor. She is now before you, her skin shining with a soft sheen in the candlelight, her nipples erect and hard, just the lace of her suspender belt and small panties covering the lower part of her torso, her stockings and shoes still in place, all highly erotic in their presence.

“Do you want me?” she asks, her voice husky with desire.

“Yes” you manage to reply.

“Then you shall have me, because you have been good” she replies. Her hands go to her hips, catching the sides of her lacy panties and pushing them downwards. They resist slightly, peeling from her wetness then falling to the floor where she steps out of them, stepping towards you again. You want to reach out, touch her, bury your fingers in her wetness, rub her hard clit with your thumb, make her moan with pleasure, but you can do none of these things.

She slides herself back onto your lap, but only moves herself close enough that you can feel the warmth of her wetness, but not close enough for you to touch yet. You strain against your fetters, willing your prick to move that extra inch towards her, to touch her, to smear her wetness with the slickness of your hardness. She slides her hand down between your bodies, wrapping her fingers round your hard prick again, gripping you firmer than before and sliding her hand up and down the shaft again. Her other hand trails down your chest once more, down to where her thigh rests on yours, following the line of her own thigh up to the soft rosebud of her sex.

Her fingers open the petals, dipping in and coming back out again, slicked with her own arousal. She raises the finger to your lips and you suck it in greedily, a starving man offered the gift he so desperately has longed for. The taste of her is sweet, a slight dry muskiness to the back of the sweetness giving a very erotic flavour, one that you long for more of. She sees that want in your eyes and trails her finger from your lips, back down your chest and back into the folds of herself, brushing against her clit as she enters, and eliciting a small sigh of pleasure from her.

You want to be the one dipping your finger in her, throwing her on the floor and burying your face between her thighs, but your restraints prevent you from this action. She sees your frustration and smiles again, her hand stroking you pausing as she moves slightly to give you a better view of her finger sliding in and out of herself, going deeper with every stroke. You want to replace that finger with one of your own, your tongue, your prick, anything, but she is teasing you, knowing what you want, but not willing to give it to you just yet. She pleasures herself and you can see from her face she is enjoying you watching as she plays with herself. You watch her and move against her hand wrapped round your prick, moving the knot against your arse as you do, the triple pleasure just heightening your arousal. You want to fuck this woman, but you can see that she will not let you, not yet.

She brings her hand out from between her legs again, and you dip your head greedily as she brings her wet finger up to your mouth once more. She moves towards you again, sliding up your thighs and flattening the hand round your prick to push it against her mound, kissing you with her finger still in your mouth, sharing the taste of her with you as you both lick at her juices.

Frustration fills you again as you feel her moving again, her mound moving away from your prick, her hand curling round your prick once more, as she removes her finger from your mouths. She moves her hand round to hold the back of the chair behind your neck and you feel her moving upwards, towards you, then down again.

Your prick barely touches her wetness and another shock like electricity courses through you as she lowers herself a little, just brushing the head of your hardness against her, teasing you, knowing what you want, mixing your pre-cum with her own slick juices.

She moves with agonising slowness, lowering herself, taking you into her inch by inch, moving her hips slightly to slide off you fractionally before lowering herself more, taking you into her, sliding lower and lower, taking her time, revelling in the feel of you inside her. She seems to go on forever, and you marvel at your own length as you slide into her, pushing against your bonds as much as you can in an effort to get the whole of your hardness inside her. You feel her body meet yours, groins pressed together in a parody of the kiss you are sharing, your tongue deep in her mouth mirroring the hard prick she has swallowed whole into her.

Her hips move against you, pushing you in further than you thought possible, rocking back again to release you slightly before pushing you back inside her. Both her hands are behind your neck now, pulling you into a frantic kiss as she pleasures herself on you, her movements calculated to fill herself with you, to rub your groin against her clit and the head of your prick against the button of her cervix deep within her, sending waves of pleasure through her. You feel her muscles tighten round you, and she breaks the kiss as she orgasms, waves of her pleasure rippling up and down your prick, her wetness increasing, lubricating the way for you more to push into her.

Gradually her orgasm subsides and she bends to kiss you once more, her hunger only heightened by this appetiser for more pleasure. You want to be able to throw her on the floor and bury your tongue in her still, wanting to taste her orgasm, and the frustration of not being able to do this makes you struggle against your bonds, pushing yourself into her deeper, exciting you more by the denial of this freedom.

She moves on you again, her movements calculated to get you deep, then pull you almost all the way out again, sliding back onto you slowly again, fucking the whole length of your hardness in exquisite slow motion. You feel your balls tighten again as your desire rises, and you know you want to come deep inside her. She feels it too and moves faster, sliding less of you out each time before plunging you back deep inside her core to flick off the button inside her. She feels you getting close as her own orgasm rises in response to your heightened arousal. She feels you growing ever harder and bigger inside her as you prepare to release your orgasm into her.

You thrown your head back as her muscles tighten in her orgasm, hers triggering yours and you feel yourself with one final thrust from her, unloading your passion deep within her. She feels it and pushes onto you, the waves of her orgasm pulling the last of your ecstasy from you.

Your body goes limp in its bonds, and she collapses onto you, sharing one tender kiss with you before moving off your lap. She slowly unties your bonds, releasing you from your rope prison, and you sit, spent while she tends to the bonds. Finally you are released, all the ropes lying in an untidy heap by the chair, rope marks turning your chest into a pattern of diamonds. She sits back on your lap and traces the marks with a lazy finger.

“You know” she says with a lazy smile, “I don’t do that for all my clients.”

“I should hope not” you reply, with a grin as you wrap your arms round her, touching that creamy skin as you have longed to do all night.

“I made a special exception for you though, and you should have tried this a long time ago.” She laughs slightly, and touches the wedding band on your finger, mirroring the one on her own. “I have a rule never to have sex with my clients, not even the online ones and it usually just involves tying them up and getting all Domme on them, but you’re a special case, and you really should have tried this sooner.”

She laughs as she gets up from your lap and you vow to do this more often with your very dominant wife, although right now, you know you just want to take her to bed and show her again what you can do without the ropes holding you back. There really is no rest for the wicked.

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