Thursday, February 23, 2012

A little rope goes a long way

I've mentioned how our little one has taken to tying people up. He's now interesting in being tied up himself, thanks to The Doctor from Doctor Who: The Eleventh Hour. There's a scene in which the eleventh Doctor is handcuffed to the radiator in Amy's house, and my little boy wants to play that particular scene over and over and over, with himself as The Doctor.

So yesterday he asked me to take his ribbon, and make handcuffs out of it so I could tie him to our door, which apparently is a good radiator substitute. Always up for a challenge, I did it, then told my husband (at work) via instant message: "I just learned how to make handcuffs out of rope/ribbon/whatever, and it was super fast and easy!"

He responded: "You'll have to teach me."


So when we went to bed that night, I showed him. I tied his wrists with a length of soft rope from the materials for the flogger that I made for his birthday. Once he was all tied up, I jokingly said "Good night!" and went to snuggle up on his chest.

"Oi! You don't get to do that!" he told me.

I untied him, and he proceeded to tie me, in triplicate, until he'd used up the whole length of rope and just a bit was left over. Then he said "Good night!" to me, and turned the light off.

Happy enough, I said "Good night, husband," and snuggled into him as he spooned me.

His hand slipping under my night shirt was my first indication he wasn't serious about going to sleep just yet.

I purred at his touch, and then a loud SMACK resounded through the room as he spanked my ass, hard. I inhaled sharply, a little bit of a screech. "Yeah, that did sting a little, didn't it?" he asked, moving over and rummaging about in the drawer next to the bed.

"You don't have to erase my ass from existence!" I reminded him, rolling onto my stomach, the sting of the smack still burning. I rested on my elbows, since my hands were tied together facing each other, that was easiest for the moment.

"I don't, huh?" he asked, and I heard clanking. He'd been rummaging for a while, I didn't know what he'd gotten, but the clanking of that buckle sent a little shiver through me.

"I'm afraid," I whispered, pressing my face into my pillow.

"Oh, of this?" he asked offhandedly, landing the vinyl belt hard across my ass, three times in quick succession.

I gasped, but then said "That still doesn't hurt as bad as the smack from your hand."

He stroked my skin with his hand, then switched to the new flogger. THUD, feathery strokes, THUD, feathery strokes. Oh how I do love that flogger. My gasps changed to ones of pleasure. He shoved my shirt up and flogged my back, too, and I loved it so, so, so much. I struggled with the ropes around my wrists for the pure pleasure of feeling restrained. The flogger struck me so many times I lost count.

He paused once in a while to stroke me with his hand before he continued, and he whispered words that stroked my brain very very well.

"I can do whatever I want to you, and you'll just ask me for more."

He stroked me, he told me to kiss him, and our lips met with such intensity it took my breath away.

After a long, long kiss, his hand stroking my skin, he pulled away.

"Turn over for me," he said.

"How?"

"Just...turn over?"

"But which way?"

"On your back."

So I turned over, extending my bound hands over my head. He pulled my legs open, tugging at my knee, pulling it toward him.

He hit me, so hard, on my inner thigh. I screamed.

"Yeah, that hurts, doesn't it?" He hit me there again and again and I thought I would die. "You're mine. I can hurt you if I want to," he whispered, his voice roughened with passion.

My thigh burned. I wanted so badly to close my legs, to curl into a ball of pain. He didn't let me. He stroked my other thigh, and treated it to the same abuse. I clasped my hands together tightly, doing all I could to keep my legs open. They started to close a few times, but I consciously forced them back open. His hand moved and he hit me on my pussy, twice, hard. He said something as he did, but the words are lost; just the growl remains in my memory.

His fingers traced gentle patterns on my abused skin, even the gentlest of touches making me moan in pain. His fingers moved up to my nipple, and a brush of his fingertip across it made me gasp and tremble.

"Oooh. Sensitive nipple, hm? That's goooooood," he said, drawing his hand back and hitting my breast, making it (and me) bounce around.

My thighs still burned. I did my best not to close my legs, now because I didn't want them to touch. He spanked both my breasts and I squirmed and arched, trying to relieve the pain. "You can't do anything about it," he told me darkly, "except take it. You can do that."

Satisfied that I'd had enough, he moved his hand back to my pussy, and began stroking the wetness he found there. I moaned. "Oh, I think someone enjoys being used," he murmured, almost to himself, as his fingers found their way inside me. He stroked me for a while, making me squirm and gasp with pleasure. "I think I'd like to stick my cock in you, now. How do you feel about that?"

"Mmhmm," I moaned, writhing in his grasp.

He pushed me over and spooned me, and I moved my top leg backwards over his hip, opening myself to him. He thrust his cock through my folds, over and over and over, just rubbing past my opening, then bumping into my clit and repeating. Maddening. I begged. "Want you."

"Oh, is that right? What part of me do you want, baby?" He kept pumping through my slickness.

"Your cock, I want your cock, want your cock," I babbled, repeating myself several times to make sure at least one of the barely formed phrases was heard.

"Oh. Here?" he asked, pressing the head of his lovely cock right into my opening. "Is this where you want it?"

"Yessssssssss," I hissed, wanting desperately to grab his hip and shove myself down onto him, but unable to due to my bound hands. Any motion against him by me was met by an equal action in the same direction - I moved down and he moved back.

He pressed a tiny bit more inside me. "There you go, baby. Is that enough cock for you?"

"Noooo," I whimpered, trying to press down against him, to take more.

"Oh, sweet little slut wants more cock, does she?" He grabbed me and pressed all the way inside me. I braced my foot behind his leg and fucked back against him.

Oh yes, that was more like it. I enjoy the teasing immensely but the culmination of the anticipation is so good.

I bent my legs almost in half, and he grabbed my bent leg and held it in place, stroking the still-burning skin of my inner thigh as he thrust inside me. Oh, it hurt, but it felt fantastic too.

After, he brought me several orgasms, and then drew me close and we fell asleep - with my hands still tied, not by neglect but by design. Sleeping there next to my love, bound, honestly helpless if he chose not to untie me, and yet, later, when he did untie me, it only took him a few seconds.

I loved it.

Much better for sleeping than the cuffs we have with the metal attachment points. No clanking, no discomfort, no velcro, no rough bits. Oh, it was marvelous.

Thank you, Doctor.

4 comments:

  1. It's in his genes:)

    Hugs,
    Hermione

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    1. You have to wonder sometimes! I find it absolutely fascinating how early this has manifested.

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  2. Wait till he starts ordering you around and actually has the presence to back up the desire. :D

    (I can't believe I wasn't already following your blog. I know I came to visit it at least once before, but today I was thinking, "Why don't I ever see Conina's posts in my feed reader?" Well, because you weren't there. Duh. Hello!)

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    Replies
    1. Heh, that's happened to me before too. Hello! :)

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