Signalling My Need (M/F, married, light bondage)
Posted: Fri Nov 01, 2024 6:50 pm
How do you signal your need? How do you ask for some physical attention, and risk being ridiculed or shut down?
Frankly, my girl has not been as attentive to me as she should be. It's not a fight or anything, just she's busy in her own little world. But my cock needs some attention. So, I schemed up a self-bondage scenario. I figured she would find me, and would need to service me, to give me some release.
I set the stage about 20 minutes before she was due home from work. I positioned a small key, fitted through a gold necklace chain. I set out one of our quality crystal wine glasses, and filled it halfway with her favorite Chablis. I leaned a white card against the stem, on which I had written " in the bedroom"
I set a heavy dining room chair near the foot of our bed, covering the seat with a towel. Then I stripped to my birthday suit. I roped each ankle to the legs of the chair, forcing my knees open wide. I worked the wiffle ball gag behind my teeth, and tightened the strap behind my head. Then I captured my hands behind the back of the chair with our steel handcuffs. If need be, I could fumble and push the escape button on the cuffs. But I was hopeful with my plan.
Already my dick was thickening. Guess it's obvious I love the sensation of bondage: the windings of cord around my skin, the cold steel ratcheted around the wrists, and of course the large ball in my mouth snuggly strapped in place.
Right on time, I heard her come through the back door, the jangle of her keys and the thump of her bag. I hoped she would rush to check me out. I should have known better. I stayed focused laser-like on the bedroom door jamb, watching for her to come through. But she was sure taking her own sweet time.
There! She peeked around the corner briefly and just as quickly withdrew her head. Had I heard her giggle in the hall? I squirmed in my nakedness. It's hard to deal with rejection when you are bound and gagged.
Seriously, five or 10 minutes passed before she strode into the room. Her eyes seem to go anywhere in the room but at me. She set down her glass (I noticed she had consumed most of the wine I had poured) and removed her earrings in the mirror. A good sign: She was wearing the gold chain around her neck, the handcuff key dangling into her cleavage.
My cock had stiffened and stood out like a steel flagpole. I grunted helplessly behind my gag, I jangled the cuffs and short chain.
She stayed oblivious to me. She began unbuttoning her blouse, stepping to the closet behind me....
In a flash, the fabric of the blouse enveloped my head. She knotted the arms loosely, capturing me as if tossing a bag over her prey. My sight was cut off, my nose filled with the aroma of her distinct perfume. Here we go!
It wasn't pitch black, I caught some light through the blouse, but it couldn't make out any shapes or movements. My Sixth Sense told me she was in and out of the closet, but nothing exacting. I heard a buckle, and deduced she was getting out of her pants....
A smooth wide band on my wrists: I recognized a leather strap being wrapped around, cinched tight, and then deftly buckled. Then the realization she was unlocking the cruel metal cuffs, taking them away. I twisted in my leather strap bondage, to no avail. She preferred the wide straps and quick buckle fastener to winds-and-winds of rope and uncertain knots.
As if to double down, I felt a wide leather strap drawn across my chest, over my biceps and pulled snug. The witch arranged it just under my pecs, above my elbows, and buckled it off tight. My arms were cinched tightly to my torso.
Wahhh.... Surprise! She was gripping Mr. Happy, but the thrill was short lived. I felt my familiar shoelace-style cock ring being fitted, down the shaft to the base of my balls, then cinched tight. It could make me last longer during sex. In putting the thing on me, she had signaled it was going to be a while longer before I obtained release.
Behind me, she loosened the shirt/hood and pulled it away. Before I could see anything new, she was fitting the wide band of a silken scarf under my nose, adding a layer over the ball gag. She double knotted the scarf, completing a silken OTM gag.
As my bride stepped around, into my sightline. I saw she had changed into a favorite gold silken nightgown. It was the kind with the spaghetti straps, embroidered cups that barely held in her generous breasts, and dropped to ankle length, a sexy slit on each side of her legs. I mewled my pleasure, but she continued ignoring me. In fact, she snatched up her wine glass and left the room.
My position had gotten more intense: I was now double-gagged, with leather straps across my chest, pinning my arms. My wrists were wrapped in layers of the belting, also buckled tight. My ankles were still tied to the chair legs, and my thick pecker was harnessed with a tight cock ring. I squirmed in anticipation: when was my fun going to start?
Next: music coming from the other room. Damn, that could mean anything. Is she setting the mood, then immediately coming back to me? Is she starting dinner? Is she in her chair, drinking wine and paging through a magazine? Given the severe restraints that she had applied, I expected she’d be back to me. But time ticked away slowly. Maybe it was a no… I struggled in my lashings, snaking a finger out to reach the buckles. No, they were high on my wrists. And I couldn’t just shrug off the belt that cut into my arms and chest.
If I tried to breathe through my mouth, the silk scarf cut the airflow; if I exhaled it puffed out slightly. Also, this scarf just beneath my nose was full-on saturated with her feminine scent. The gag alone was driving me mad.
I wasn’t watching the clock. It seemed to me I had heard 5 or 6 different songs from the living room. She sauntered back in, leaning in the doorway. She propped her hip provocatively. My woman has better curves than a roller coaster track.
"Quite a fix you're in," she purred, fingering the key between her breasts. "Haven't you even tried to get loose?"
I moaned a protest, shaking my wrists as best I could, whipping my head.
"Come on sweetie. Do better." She sipped her wine.
"Make it dance for me."
My rock hard cock glistened with oozing precum. I moved my hips, flailing my dick in a dozen directions.
"Oh, my, that is nice. I'll bet you are nice and frustrated. Too bad I can't set you loose, hmm?"
She bent to the bottom drawer of my dresser and retrieved something. Then she settled on the bed, next to me and just out of my grasp.
"Maybe we can look at some pictures together." She opened the magazine Bondage Life to some random spread. "Oh, look at this poor girl." She held the pages for me to see a young brunette, stifled with a red ball gag, arms and legs held out in a spread-X, adorned in barely-there panties and bra. "Do you like looking at her?" She turned the page. “Here’s a blonde, she really looks uncomfortable. Is that what they call a hog-tie? Is that how you would like to see me, bent back like that?†She flipped through my stroke-book, offering comments and opinions on these roped damsels in distress.
She tossed a pillow to my feet, then knelt on it, brandishing a lotion bottle. "Can you say 'pretty please'?"
I practically shouted unintelligibly, "fuck me, finish me off!" I know she got my meaning, but I only caught her impish smile as she put a few dots of lotion in her palm.
"Is this what you want?" she cooed as she gripped my rod delicately, barely touching it at all, moving her fist up and down slightly. I groaned at her touch, urging her to tighten her fist, to pump me aggressively. But my queen was doing this on her own schedule.
“Squeeze it!†I begged, but I can’t say what my gibberish sounded like. She kept up her light-touch hand tunnel, occasionally brushing some part of me. I squirmed helplessly in my bonds.
Finally, she did tighten her grip, giving me full contact and fisting the length of my swollen rod. She would rub the length of my shaft, stopping short of its puffed purple head. She knew exactly what she was doing, driving me mad while I was trussed, unable to reach out, call out or otherwise compel her to finish the job. At this point, I was perspiring, my nostrils flaring as I took air in and out under her ministrations.
At my feet, clad in her silken nightie, she pulled at the fabric, presenting me with a deep V of her cleavage. She still wore the chain and key, a symbol of her power over me, her bound victim. “I know you like that,†she murmured. “You like looking down my dress, you wanna see more?†as she continued to piston my fat dick.
I nodded vehemently, moaning behind the ball and scarf band.
I felt her loosen the tight band that was my cock ring. It was now loose from the base of my dick and her stroking felt so much better.
She let go! But only to thumb the straps off her shoulders and let the gown slip down. With her left hand, she was demurely holding the bodice over her nipples, displaying to me the creamy tops of her beautiful boobs. With her dominant hand, she again gripped my tool, this time fisting me vigorously, brushing the head with her thumb. I thought my eyes might burst from my head.
She slipped the fabric, allowing me a view of her extended pink nipples, standing like hard pencil erasers. I felt myself beginning to launch --–
Her lips covered the head of my dick as it pulsed and threw gobs of white spunk into her mouth. She even hummed around my shaft as I emptied my balls, moaning in my own state of ecstasy.
“Eww, this lotion doesn’t taste very good,†she said, wiping her lips. My shaft started its slow shrivel as I sagged in my bindings, my head lolling on my chest. My brain was sheer jelly: I had no idea how long I’d been secured, or how long she had actively been teasing me. I know I had unloaded every gram I had pent up. Now I could only hope that she would quickly let me go. And after a time, she did.
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