Chapter 1
They weren’t entirely sure how the events over the course of their 21 years of living culminated in them being tied up, blindfolded and gagged. As far as they were concerned, they didn’t owe any outstanding debts to shady loan sharks, hadn’t stolen a precious jewel from some cave, or even jaywalked. Ever. Well, they at least haven’t been caught. But somehow, the only senses they can rely on were being stimulated by the feel of a nylon rope, digging into various parts of their flesh, and the sound of incredibly high heels clicking and clacking against the floor.
A grin started to spread across their face, as their inner Christian voice chastised them for being excited over the idea of being treated like this. It isn’t like they’re some sort of sicko; they simply have a curious spirit and want to know exactly how this experience will pan out. The smile was quickly wiped off their face then they felt cold metal clamp down on each of their nipples. Silently, they sit, waiting for a command or direction. From previous encounters, they’ve come to learn that their lover tends to have a short fuse when it comes to making movements without permission.
“On your knees,” a voice calls out.
They move slowly until they’re kneeling on both knees.
A pointed object–her heel–begins to dig into the center of their chest.
“Tell me if it hurts,” the voice commands. “You remember our safe word? If you do, say it out loud.”
They start to say something, but it’s unintelligible.
“Shit, babe, I’m sorry.” The sound of shifting fabric fills the room as she ungags them. “What’s the safe word?”
“Mailbox.” After a slight pause, they both begin to laugh at the ridiculousness of their safe word. She didn’t mean for it to sound so stupid, but it was the only two syllable word that she could think of that didn’t sound as if they were moaning. She smiles as she thinks of all of the interesting ways her lover tends to moan. She hopes she can elicit a new sound tonight.
The heel makes a reappearance, digging into their chest, twisting back and forth. It hurts so much. The force pushes them back so hard, they are forced to support themselves with their hands, which are tied behind their back. Still, the pain wasn’t enough. Not enough to make them call out their safe word. Not enough to bring them pleasure. Sensing this, their lover grabs at the chain tethering the two nipple clamps together. A mewling sound starts softly but begins to become louder as she teasingly jerks the chain. They begin to shift while on their knees; the wetness is almost too much to bear.
She enjoys seeing them like this. Begging, probably crying beneath the blindfold fastened across their eyes. Something about watching someone who was always so cool and collected lose their composure in such an uncouth way drove her wild with desire. She knew that if she made them stand up, a small puddle of wetness would make itself apparent on her hardwood floor. She was sure that if they saw it and she teased them about it, it would make her lover embarrassed and mortified. She wasn’t afraid to admit that they wore those two emotions well. So well, in fact, that it was those two emotions that led to her pulling them into a secluded corner and fingering them until they came so hard, there were tears in their eyes. Coincidentally, that was also the first time they met.
“Please,” they rasped from their position on the floor.
She momentarily considered giving into their request due to the sheer desperation on their face. They began to move and shift under the ropes that were artistically tied to the contours of their body,
“Hurt me. Harder,” they begged.
She removed the heel from the center of their chest. They whimper at the loss of pressure. The clacking starts up again, soon joined by the sound of something heavy scraping against the floor—a chair.
Suddenly, they are yanked forward by the chain connecting the pieces of hard metal clamped to their nipples.
“You know how I like it. If you do a good job, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me,” she says.
She slowly guides their head to the apex of her legs, which are spread out wide enough for them to rest comfortably between them. As they kiss it, the flesh beneath their lips begin to quiver. She was always so sensitive in ways one would never suspect. The kisses trail higher and higher until their lips brush by something warm and wet. They hesitate for a moment.
“Hurry the fu–”, she’s suddenly cut off as a breathless moan leaves her throat.
Swirling their tongue up and around, they quickly find her throbbing clit. They take their time flicking their tongue back and forth, up and down, teasing her to the point of frustration. Before she can complain, they quickly capture her clit between their lips, gently sucking and pulling at it. Finishing the movement off with an unhurried lick, they begin to focus their attention to the source of her wetness. It nearly weeps from the lack of attention. They dart out their tongue, swirling around the pulsating opening. They mentally offer an apology to their lover as they begin to quicken their movements. What once started off as gentle, tepid movements, becomes rough and vulgar—and so does the moans of their lover. In and out, they pump their tongue into her hole. They are emboldened by the way she grips their head to lock them into place.
Bringing the attention back to her clit, they suck and nibble, eliciting a cacophony of loud moans from the lewd owner. They flatten their tongue as they take long, sloppy licks from their lover’s apex. If anyone saw them like this— on their knees, tied up in such a severe way, degrading themselves like this—they wouldn’t be able to show their face ever again. They liked it this way. Knowing that only she could make them look like such a mess, knowing that only she could fulfill their debased desires, it makes them burn for her. Yearn for her. All of her.
Her moans begin to sound like whimpers—she’s close.
