Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Please, Sir, Part Five: Pretty Blue Ropes and Nice Fat Fingers

Next it was time for the ropes and I realized I’d better go pee first. Fireguy cupped his hands suggestively in response to this request and I laughed and said “Too advanced!” I looked around for something to wrap up in to go upstairs and saw nothing.

“Just go up,” he said, “If you run into (Wonder Woman) maybe she’ll return the favor and flash you.”

And then, while applying some hand sanitizer himself he said: “Definitely don’t forget to wash up after.” (Really? Really Sir? I’m submissive, I’m not five.)

I still had a little worry about not being good enough for WW to see, but up the stairs I went, naked except his collar. I could hear her in the living room on the phone. I went into the bathroom and checked myself out in the mirror—I couldn’t believe this woman was me. Everything was flushed and pink, my hair was all bedhead-fluffy and my two little rhinestone barrettes were all askew. My body looked so much more like a pinup than I could have ever imagined. It took a while to pee because I was so turned on.

When I got back down stairs, he positioned me in the middle of the room and said to close my eyes and if I didn’t keep them closed, he would have to get the blindfold. Nothing he ever said came out barking or scary, more like amused/nurturing. That’s part of what made me feel so adorable (aside from little flashes of feeling diseased) when I played with him. It filled such a deep need.

“You’re doing a very good job of seducing me.” He said, and I snuggled into him. He smelled so good, just pure, fresh guy smell. Perfect.

He wrapped the rope around and around me, letting it graze my nipples, framing my boobs, pulling it tight around my shoulders. I found myself looking at him and he caught me with my eyes open. He laughed about me not having done what I was told and I laughed and said “Good, luck to you, Sir.”

He laughed and hugged me and said, “Is this the little brat I’ve been reading about? Maybe you are a little brat.”

We hugged and kissed and laughed and then I had to have the blindfold on.

He pulled my hand behind my back and gently but firmly secured them there. It was the first time a man had really restrained me. I wish I could have seen myself, I felt so beautiful. I felt like art.

There was a futon mattress set up on the floor like a cozy nest, with a light blue comforter and pillows. He guided me over to it and told me to lie down. He propped my head up on the pillows so that I could sit up a little.

“Kiss.” I found his face.

Then (I think then) he tied the ropes around my ankles-just looped them around two or three more times and left rope hanging, like a handle for each foot. He climbed on top of me and held those handles. His stomach grazed me, I was splayed open and gushing wet.

“You’re getting me wet. How come you’re doing that?”

“Um, because I’m having fun?”

So much fun. I felt like a princess, blindfolded and tied up in his basement, with his weight on me. It was a dream come true.

“You little brat—wait, should I be calling you a brat? Is that a bad memory?”

“Well, you could make it a good memory…”

“Nah. How about if you’re my good girl?”

Driving there that night, I’d almost stopped to take a picture of the sky. The sun was low and bright, clear yellow and peaking out behind these wonderful, fluffy, monumental clouds. Shafts of light were busting though the clouds like a revelation. That’s how it felt to be called his good girl.

He climbed off and lay to the side of me. Before he parted my lips to get to my clit, he asked if it was okay.

“Uh-huh.”

“God, you’re so wet. It’s so hot.”

“Well, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Well, you said take it slow.”

“No, I mean I’ve been waiting for you for two months.”

“Two months!”

That’s how long it had been (almost) since I first came down here, all the back-and-forth, should-I-or-shouldn’t-I, all the fantasies that came from that innocent  little spanking that seemed a million miles away now. (Also, remember me fighting Bill of from second base on our first date? That seems a long way away now, too.)

Anyway, I finally got what I’d fantasized about so much, his perfect fingers pushing into me. It felt so good, so much. I let out a screaming moan and wondered again how much Wonder Woman could hear. I was on my side, writhing, my arms pinned back, screaming into the mattress.

“Good girl. You’re such a fucking good girl.”

Next time: OMG I really like his penis.









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