Tied and Tortured #MasturbationMonday

 

We were lying in bed, H and I, I can’t remember when precisely but I remember the conversation well. They were talking about orgasm denial and orgasm torture and the image they conjured has been at the centre of my fantasies for quite a while, and the photo prompt from Purple’s Gem  for this week’s Masturbation Monday works as the perfect excuse to write about it.

Falling into the room laughing, they kiss me, hold me, press the fucking buttons that make me moan and hiss with pressured pain. H strips me, easy access dress unzipped and fallen to the floor, bra unfastened as they hold my hair in their hand, angling my face to look in the mirror. So I can see their bites all over my neck and chest. The way they have marked me theirs.  Knickers ripped down to pool on the floor at my feet.

They hold me there, so I can appreciate my nakedness against their clothed body, every little detail reminding me I belong to H. I am theirs to use as they will. I am wet and wanting and shriek as they push me down onto the bed where I sprawl, unladylike, heart pounding. I don’t have a moment to recover before they’re on top of me. Between my thighs, kissing me, biting me. I croon and writhe, throwing my hands above my head as I process the pain of their jaws locked into my flesh.

Quick as a flash they grab my wrists in their hand. I don’t fight. Don’t want to. Rope appears, hidden beside the bed or under the pillow, somewhere I’d not noticed. Sneaky! I am soon restrained to the bedhead. Arms stretched above my head. Chest pushed up, vulnerable and exposed. They move down my body, nibbling, biting as my legs thrash. They press into my ribs, making me giggle violently with the pain. They bite hard into my tummy, showing it sadistic love, the nibbles run down my thighs, as freely as my juices. No contact with my cunt though, bar a soft exhalation of breath that leaves me aching for more.

They widen my thighs, attaching rope to my ankles and then to the bottom of the bed. I am completely restrained. Completely exposed. H sits between my outspread thighs and looks at me. No touches, just their gaze.  I whimper. Desperate for their touch. Wanton in my need for more. I am aching with it.

“Desperate slut.” The words make me flush and I try to hide my face in the only way I can, moving it to the side.

“No.” Their command runs straight to my cunt. “Look at me.”

I return my head to centre and meet their gaze. My face burns with embarrassment and lust as I look deep into their eyes and see that lust reflected, a sadistic smile spreading across their face.  They move, leaning over me. I think that they’re gonna hurt me, or stroke me, maybe kiss me? But no. They spit on me.  It lands on my cheek, runs down onto my chest.

I gulp. Fight to not drop my gaze. So humiliated, I feel so small and subdued. The glee on their face spreads as they feed eagerly on my degradation.  My cunt contracts. I am so turned on, I roll my hips, straining for any contact.

H lifts away from me, so I can’t touch them. They get off the bed and grab their phone. Snapping photos.

“You look so hot, slut. I can feel the desperation radiating from you.” H teases as they move round to take close ups of my face, my breasts, my cunt. “What do you want?”

My eyes flash wide with panic. I hate that question. I hate having to articulate what I want. I hate being made to beg as much as it turns me on and my body hums with arousal. Betraying cunt.

“You.” I gasp.

“Oh, no, love. You’re an erotic author. I want detail.”

H can be a dick sometimes.

“I want you to touch me,” I gulp, wiggling my feet and hands, straining against my bonds, needing to show how much I need H’s touch. “I want you to kiss me, to bite me, to punch me,” my breath hitches as they look up from the phone in their hand (are they filming me? Fuck.) to look me in the eye. I gaze back. “I want you to finger me. I want you to make me come. I need to come, please? Oh, please?”

There’s that sadist grin again.

“You want to come?”

I nod vigorously.

“Really? Are you sure?” The amusement in their voice is palpable. They are planning something wicked. I can tell.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure. Please?” I put all my effort into looking pathetic and needy. Channeling my inner needy pussy. I widen my eyes, flutter my lashes. I put all my desire into one word.

“Please?”

The words hangs heavy in the air. They don’t move. Don’t respond. I can feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes I am so frustrated, so wanting.

“You asked for it.”

When a deep, familiar hum sounds. I light up. When I see the Doxy in their hands, I smile with delight. When it is pressed against my needy cunt I howl with satisfaction. It quickly pulls an orgasm from me. I writhe and convulse with its power. H holds the Doxy tightly to me. Turns it up. I howl as another orgasm is pulled from me and another, and another.

They laugh as I thrash around. Moaning, yelping and sobbing. The pleasure assaults all my senses. I feel like I can’t breathe, like the world is collapsing in on me, like I am the centre of a tornado.

“Stop, no, please, stop!” I babble. H does not stop. They’re not the words to bring this to an end. But I continue to babble and plead.

“I can’t…not more…fuck…no…please…”  The pleasure hurts so intensely and as the tears flow down my cheeks and I scream out in pained ecstasy, they laugh.

And seconds later the vibrations stop, they pull the Doxy away, and snuggle into me. They hold me, kiss me and tell me I’m a good girl. They softly praise me as they untie the bonds, keeping skin to skin with me the whole time.

I smile contentedly. I am their good girl.  I did it. I did it for them.

And it was so. Fucking. Good.

 

Yes, H. Please take this as a big ol’ hint of what I’d like you to do to me soon…I am sure reality will be even more exciting than fantasy.