the middle years - “Best Tie” (M/F) Consensual, sexual
Posted: Tue Dec 30, 2025 12:13 am
Pre-Preamble:
I wrote the basic nuts and bolts of this story several years back while the memory was fresh. That was before I had accumulated numerous chapters like this. The willing participant in this story was initially unnamed, but for those who may choose to read more than one chapter, this is "MJ" whom I have in a number of other stories as we go along. While some of my stories may be embellished a bit, I can promise you this was dead-nuts real down to the last word.
************Preface:************
Having reached an age where it feels not only natural but necessary to set down the experiences of my youth, I’ve decided to test my writing skills once more and gather a handful of fond memories into a series of tales. Before I begin, it seems only fair to offer the reader a glimpse of what awaits within.
These pages hold moments that shaped me—some small, some significant, all softened by the passage of time. They are not meant as history or instruction, but simply as stories. In this collection, those stories lean toward adult themes and explore elements of consensual bondage as I experienced them in my younger years. While some details have been embellished for color or pacing, the core events, the personalities involved, and—most importantly—the mutual willingness of every participant remain true to life. Names and locations have been changed to protect privacy.
Each tale centers on a consensual power exchange scenario. There was never any real force, coercion, or deception involved; any sense of danger existed only within the boundaries of role play, something I trust will be evident as the stories unfold. The dynamics portrayed generally reflect a male dominant, female submissive framework, occasionally involving more than one partner, and are written from a heterosexual perspective.
My storytelling tends to be expansive—some might say long winded—but for me, the build up is as essential as the resolution. These narratives are intended for mature adults only. If you are under eighteen, please set this aside and go enjoy the world beyond your screen. If you are between eighteen and twenty five, you may find more value in creating your own stories than in reading mine.
With that, we begin.
My stories generally fall into one of three timelines: my “college years,” which includes some interesting events that occurred both at and during the summers of my collegiate career, my young adulthood after college (which I will refer to as the “middle years” , and my early maturity or “past present” experiences, for lack of a better description. Interestingly enough, it’s that later slice of life that produced some of the most memorable moments. I am married now, having found my true love later in life, and NONE of those experiences will grace this or any other page, and at no time during my marriage have I ever strayed, so if that is implied in my stories somehow, forgive me as I try to stay to the basic truth of the matter.
At any rate, three recurring female protagonists appear throughout these stories, each based on a real-life partners of mine. I refer to them as “MJ,” “Kate,” and “Jen.” MJ is a shorter redhead, Jen is tall and athletically built with dirty-blond hair, and Kate is the epitome of the beautiful blond you might expect to see on a beach or in a club.
I have a type, as you’ll probably notice, and all three are well built from a male perspective. I dated each of them off and on for several years, drawn back again and again by their adventurous nature and their willingness to accommodate a certain kink of mine. At times, they even seemed to be as interested in bondage as I was—sometimes more.
There are other wonderful women I’ve been intimate with, many of whom also took part in bondage adventures, but MJ, Kate, and Jen were involved in so many of them that they naturally became the leading ladies in many adventures you may find here.
*******************************************
“Best Tie”
As I have previously mentioned, I have a number of favorites when it comes to bondage. Favorite type of tie (Chair tie, hands behind). Favorite gag (cleve gag, with stuffing), Blindfold (cloth strip), legs tied (to chair legs), Clothing (White T and Skirt) Etc.
I have also had the good fortune of performing a number of these techniques on various consenting friends, but I still have yet to produce what I would consider my artistic golden moment. Close, but not perfect. This, I am sure, is due to the great work of the various professional models and producers out there. Obviously, we can’t all find a Cory Lane willing to submit herself to our desires and “wants,” but we can endeavor to come as close as we can.
My closest—or “best tie,” if you will—was with a great girl who shared some of the attraction to bondage that I do (as I’m sure a number of you do as well). She will remain nameless, of course, but she could otherwise be described as a beautiful redhead standing about 5’4”, 110 lbs, with a fantastic figure and a slightly larger chest than her frame would normally suggest. Fair Irish skin, green eyes, and a perky attitude that made me glad to be with her.
This fair Irish maiden had initiated our conversations about “love bondage” and had even provided the silk scarves that led to our first “adventure” . This had led to our exchange of pre-sexual bondage fantasies.. Hers was to be fed food while tied up and blindfolded (sort of a 9 ½ weeks scenario). Mine was the above description. Both were to be followed by sex.
We actually planned a bit in advance how to role play these fantasies into two merged success stories. She was to dress in an appropriate “uniform” (allowing me to peer through the blinds of her bedroom), and I was to pretend to be a fast food delivery man who takes her by surprise.
We spoke to each other several times that day at work, and using code—and a lot of giggles—determined that I would show up at 6:30 p.m. with some food. I did, and as promised, I was able to peer through her partially parted blinds (inside her condo atrium) while, at 6:35, she dressed in a sheer black push up bra, a button up short sleeved white shirt, black underwear, and a plaid skirt. I caught her glancing toward the window several times with a slight smile as she adjusted her clothing.
Once she was dressed, I picked up the bag of takeout I had purchased and rang the doorbell. She answered and feigned not knowing me, but invited me into the house while she “looked for some money.” Once inside, I closed the door and set down the bag of food.
I approached her from behind and placed my hand over her mouth and the other arm around her, under her chest, pinning her arms to her sides. She gave a brief and muffled shout into my hand (to which I whispered a check to make sure she was infact ok, to which she giggled, she was) and then proceeded pull her back toward me.
I slowly pulled her toward the table that lay in the kitchen/dining transition area and sat her in a straight-backed wooden chair. Holding both wrists in one hand and the other over her lips, I whispered, “Don’t move your hands…understand?” She confirmed with a murmur into my hand and a slow nod of her head.
Standing above her with one hand covering her mouth, I looked down at my willing captive and felt a rush of warmth. Not just from the ample amount of heaving cleavage well within my sight, not even from the nervously, and obviously trembling thighs that were a magnificent contrast to the red and black checked skirt rising against her milky white thighs. The warmth was a combination of anticipation and gratitude for the willingness and trust this fine woman revealed to me. For a moment, our eyes locked, and I stared into her green irises and she into my blue. Clearly, we were both lost in the moment.
The moment passed, and releasing her wrists, I pulled a silk kerchief from my pocket and quickly brought it to her lips. She feigned contempt, but allowed it to be placed in her mouth, the smallest corner protruding before I replaced my cupped hand.
Her hands had stayed put behind the stout back of the chair, and I pulled out a torn length of cloth I had placed in a cargo pocket of my pants. Taking my hand from her mouth, I assisted my other hand in looping the cloth around both wrists several times and then cinching it in the middle. She let out a quick gasp as I knotted the bindings on her wrists, securing them behind her and the chair back.
One hand went forward to her lips to ensure the stuffing had not come free from her mouth, while the other reached around her front and brushed against her blouse. I held myself from outright grappling, choosing to allow the wait and temptation to prolong the anticipation of what was to come.
Now I reached for the take-out bag, which held several more strips of cloth along with our dinner. The strips had been torn from a fine, soft, white bed sheet I had purchased for the occasion. The amount of threads had made it seem almost silky to the touch, and when I found it at the store, I knew it would make the perfect bindings for this evening.
From the bag, I took a strip that had been pre folded in and cut to a length of three feet. This made the perfect blindfold as I slowly placed it over her eyes and pulled it snugly back against her head. Tying it in the rear, I had made her sightless, and the increased heaving of her chest indicated that this had heightened her feeling of helplessness.
Now with a blindfold and hands bound behind, she awaited my next move. I chose to move around her fronts slowly and silently, watching, drinking her in. Her red hair against the white blindfold. Her arms secured behind her back, thrusting her chest forward, a small portion of a handkerchief protruding from her soft lips, she waited there for me, willing, ready, anxious.
I bent in front of her and with one hand slowly pulled the kerchief from her lips and then kissed her, slow at first and then harder, our tongues inter-twining, rushing into passion, energizing the heat, causing her to push towards me in lust and I toward her.
Recovering from the momentary loss of focus, I pulled back and brought the kerchief back to her lips. After licking hers, she opened her mouth and again accepted the stuffing. From out of the bag I brought another folded cloth, this slightly thicker, but of the same length as the other. I stepped behind the chair and brought the center of this to her mouth. Sensing that I was about to secure the gag, she parted her lips and bent slightly forward, accepting it between her teeth. With purpose, but yet with care, I tucked the stuffing safely behind her teeth, effectively gagging her as it was pulled tightly under her ears and knotted behind her head.
There is little else in the world so mesmerising as a well-tied cleve gag on a willing victim. The way the cloth stretches between the lips and almost disappears into her mouth. How the cloth widens along the cheek lines, but then stretches back behind the ears and disappears into a knot behind the head. When a damsel first stretches and tests the limits of the gag are co-existent with the sun appearing at dawn, or perhaps a bird in flight. Only a muffled groan, grunt, or cry in ecstasy that comes from behind the gag compares… in my humble estimation.
She tested the gag with a few mumbles and moans while her hands pulled against their binds. As she did this, I removed several larger strips that had run the length of the sheet. These were to bind her legs and arms to the chair.
Her legs were first, and I bound one, then the other, to the individual legs of the chair, using several loops around each ankle. I was about tie her upper body to the chair when I realized it would be a shame not to emphasize some of her assets.
Kneeling in front of my love, I started to unbutton her blouse. The first three buttons had already been undone, showing a fine amount of cleavage, but I released the remaining buttons, pulling the ends of the shirt from her skirt. I opened the shirt like the covers to a fine book and brought the openings over her shoulders, leaving her heaving chest covered barely by a partially see-through and hardly concealing bra. She had exclaimed behind the folds of the bra when she had been exposed, not in an upset or frightened manner, but in a lustful, sexual way. Dinner was never going to seem so long.
I took another length of cloth and wrapped it below and then above her breasts, and with the remaining strip of cloth, wrapped two loops around her upper arms, behind the back of the chair, causing her to arch even further forward.
I leaned in and whispered to her a question..” Are you ok”? She murmured MMMHHHGGMMM. And nodded in affirmation.
Having secured her to the chair and satisfied with the result, I took a second chair from the table and sat in it directly across from her. I knew I was supposed to feel superior, in control, and even a bit more powerful from this sight. Instead, I was surprised to feel a sense of closeness, warmth, and even affection—something I hadn’t experienced before to this extent, from a moment like this.
There, just feet from my grasp, was a securely bound, gagged, and blindfolded woman at my mercy; however, she was enjoying the moment almost as much as I. That seemed obvious from the soft cooing and small tugs against the bindings. As I watched her teeth grind against the folds of the gag, her breasts heave against their cupped bindings, and her head gently sway behind the blindfold, I felt somehow closer, even gentler than I believed I would.
She spent the next ten minutes testing the security of her bonds and listening while I set the table, laid out the food, and prepared a glass of wine for her and a cold beer for me. She stretched her neck against the tight cloth that covered her eyes and the other that secured the stuffing between her teeth. I walked around her restrained figure, admiring the contrast between the sheets and her skin, how she clenched and unclenched her hands against the bindings, how she strained against the tight bindings that encircled her chest, causing the impression of her now, rock-hard nipples to protest against the bra cups, regardless of its frilly nature. She did not protest, but instead made soft, muffled cooing that announced the pleasure and heightened stage of excitement growing inside her.
I filled a large glass with ice and brought it to the table, letting the ring of the cubes resonate as I set it on the table in front of her.
She stopped and listened, waiting to see what that sound would bring. That wait was not long for moments later, she felt the top edge of her left bazier cup be pulled gently away from her breast. This was followed by first the light touch and then a slow circling of her nipple by a cube of ice. She would have pulled back away from the cold intrusion, but could not due to being bound to the chair. Her back arched with the little room it could find and her head stretched back as her teeth grimaced against the gag.
WWWWMMMFFFFGGGHHH was all she could manage, though it quickly softened into a murmur as the initial shock dissipated. I made a dozen circles on one nipple and then repeated with the second.
She squirmed, tugged, and rubbed her thighs together, and I could tell she was starting to become wet. I removed the ice and left the bra tucked under the lower curve of her heavy breasts, then replaced the cold with the warm caress of my tongue. First one side and then the other. My hand slipped down and inside the waist of her panties, slowly working past her light pubic strip and in between her legs, where it found a warm, moist pocket to explore. Softly and slowly, I worked my mouth and fingers in unison, bringing her closer and closer to a complete fever. She strained harder and harder against her bonds, and her muted cooing became moans of pleasure. I could feel myself moving past mere arousal and gaining heat and intensity as the moment built for both of us.
Before she came to the obvious pending conclusion, though, I pulled back, letting the moment slowly dissipate. She was panting now, and I was taking deep breaths myself, walking back, metaphorically, from the edge. There was plenty of time for all of this, the goal was to stretch out the event, not to rush it.
Once I had regained my control and composure, I smiled, taking her in, in all of her glory and very slowly and carefully pulled the bra back up over the breasts, one at a time, adjusting each so that they filled the cups perfectly and giving each nipple one small tweak. I placed another rice cube in my mouth, leaned forward, and began to untie the gag.
As the cloth slipped from her mouth, I folded it in half and placed it on the table next to her plate. That would be used again in the very near future. Then I picked out the hankie- stuffing that was still dutifully in place and sticking out slightly between her barely parted teeth.
She began to exclaim and thank her gods when I pressed forward and kissed her on the lips, silencing her again. She returned the kiss, eagerly and passionately, her tongue finding the ice cube and sharing it back and forth between her lips. When we broke the kiss I asked if she was ready for her dinner.
Her reply was simple, “Ill let you put anything in my mouth that you want, I am your helpless but very, very willing prisoner.”
I took that in for a moment, smiled deeply, and then slid her chair into position in front of her plate of food.
I spent the next half hour first warming and then feeding the take-out slowly and deliberately while she consumed it equally slowly and enjoyed every morsel.
The remaining events will have to wait for another story.
I wrote the basic nuts and bolts of this story several years back while the memory was fresh. That was before I had accumulated numerous chapters like this. The willing participant in this story was initially unnamed, but for those who may choose to read more than one chapter, this is "MJ" whom I have in a number of other stories as we go along. While some of my stories may be embellished a bit, I can promise you this was dead-nuts real down to the last word.
************Preface:************
Having reached an age where it feels not only natural but necessary to set down the experiences of my youth, I’ve decided to test my writing skills once more and gather a handful of fond memories into a series of tales. Before I begin, it seems only fair to offer the reader a glimpse of what awaits within.
These pages hold moments that shaped me—some small, some significant, all softened by the passage of time. They are not meant as history or instruction, but simply as stories. In this collection, those stories lean toward adult themes and explore elements of consensual bondage as I experienced them in my younger years. While some details have been embellished for color or pacing, the core events, the personalities involved, and—most importantly—the mutual willingness of every participant remain true to life. Names and locations have been changed to protect privacy.
Each tale centers on a consensual power exchange scenario. There was never any real force, coercion, or deception involved; any sense of danger existed only within the boundaries of role play, something I trust will be evident as the stories unfold. The dynamics portrayed generally reflect a male dominant, female submissive framework, occasionally involving more than one partner, and are written from a heterosexual perspective.
My storytelling tends to be expansive—some might say long winded—but for me, the build up is as essential as the resolution. These narratives are intended for mature adults only. If you are under eighteen, please set this aside and go enjoy the world beyond your screen. If you are between eighteen and twenty five, you may find more value in creating your own stories than in reading mine.
With that, we begin.
My stories generally fall into one of three timelines: my “college years,” which includes some interesting events that occurred both at and during the summers of my collegiate career, my young adulthood after college (which I will refer to as the “middle years” , and my early maturity or “past present” experiences, for lack of a better description. Interestingly enough, it’s that later slice of life that produced some of the most memorable moments. I am married now, having found my true love later in life, and NONE of those experiences will grace this or any other page, and at no time during my marriage have I ever strayed, so if that is implied in my stories somehow, forgive me as I try to stay to the basic truth of the matter.
At any rate, three recurring female protagonists appear throughout these stories, each based on a real-life partners of mine. I refer to them as “MJ,” “Kate,” and “Jen.” MJ is a shorter redhead, Jen is tall and athletically built with dirty-blond hair, and Kate is the epitome of the beautiful blond you might expect to see on a beach or in a club.
I have a type, as you’ll probably notice, and all three are well built from a male perspective. I dated each of them off and on for several years, drawn back again and again by their adventurous nature and their willingness to accommodate a certain kink of mine. At times, they even seemed to be as interested in bondage as I was—sometimes more.
There are other wonderful women I’ve been intimate with, many of whom also took part in bondage adventures, but MJ, Kate, and Jen were involved in so many of them that they naturally became the leading ladies in many adventures you may find here.
*******************************************
“Best Tie”
As I have previously mentioned, I have a number of favorites when it comes to bondage. Favorite type of tie (Chair tie, hands behind). Favorite gag (cleve gag, with stuffing), Blindfold (cloth strip), legs tied (to chair legs), Clothing (White T and Skirt) Etc.
I have also had the good fortune of performing a number of these techniques on various consenting friends, but I still have yet to produce what I would consider my artistic golden moment. Close, but not perfect. This, I am sure, is due to the great work of the various professional models and producers out there. Obviously, we can’t all find a Cory Lane willing to submit herself to our desires and “wants,” but we can endeavor to come as close as we can.
My closest—or “best tie,” if you will—was with a great girl who shared some of the attraction to bondage that I do (as I’m sure a number of you do as well). She will remain nameless, of course, but she could otherwise be described as a beautiful redhead standing about 5’4”, 110 lbs, with a fantastic figure and a slightly larger chest than her frame would normally suggest. Fair Irish skin, green eyes, and a perky attitude that made me glad to be with her.
This fair Irish maiden had initiated our conversations about “love bondage” and had even provided the silk scarves that led to our first “adventure” . This had led to our exchange of pre-sexual bondage fantasies.. Hers was to be fed food while tied up and blindfolded (sort of a 9 ½ weeks scenario). Mine was the above description. Both were to be followed by sex.
We actually planned a bit in advance how to role play these fantasies into two merged success stories. She was to dress in an appropriate “uniform” (allowing me to peer through the blinds of her bedroom), and I was to pretend to be a fast food delivery man who takes her by surprise.
We spoke to each other several times that day at work, and using code—and a lot of giggles—determined that I would show up at 6:30 p.m. with some food. I did, and as promised, I was able to peer through her partially parted blinds (inside her condo atrium) while, at 6:35, she dressed in a sheer black push up bra, a button up short sleeved white shirt, black underwear, and a plaid skirt. I caught her glancing toward the window several times with a slight smile as she adjusted her clothing.
Once she was dressed, I picked up the bag of takeout I had purchased and rang the doorbell. She answered and feigned not knowing me, but invited me into the house while she “looked for some money.” Once inside, I closed the door and set down the bag of food.
I approached her from behind and placed my hand over her mouth and the other arm around her, under her chest, pinning her arms to her sides. She gave a brief and muffled shout into my hand (to which I whispered a check to make sure she was infact ok, to which she giggled, she was) and then proceeded pull her back toward me.
I slowly pulled her toward the table that lay in the kitchen/dining transition area and sat her in a straight-backed wooden chair. Holding both wrists in one hand and the other over her lips, I whispered, “Don’t move your hands…understand?” She confirmed with a murmur into my hand and a slow nod of her head.
Standing above her with one hand covering her mouth, I looked down at my willing captive and felt a rush of warmth. Not just from the ample amount of heaving cleavage well within my sight, not even from the nervously, and obviously trembling thighs that were a magnificent contrast to the red and black checked skirt rising against her milky white thighs. The warmth was a combination of anticipation and gratitude for the willingness and trust this fine woman revealed to me. For a moment, our eyes locked, and I stared into her green irises and she into my blue. Clearly, we were both lost in the moment.
The moment passed, and releasing her wrists, I pulled a silk kerchief from my pocket and quickly brought it to her lips. She feigned contempt, but allowed it to be placed in her mouth, the smallest corner protruding before I replaced my cupped hand.
Her hands had stayed put behind the stout back of the chair, and I pulled out a torn length of cloth I had placed in a cargo pocket of my pants. Taking my hand from her mouth, I assisted my other hand in looping the cloth around both wrists several times and then cinching it in the middle. She let out a quick gasp as I knotted the bindings on her wrists, securing them behind her and the chair back.
One hand went forward to her lips to ensure the stuffing had not come free from her mouth, while the other reached around her front and brushed against her blouse. I held myself from outright grappling, choosing to allow the wait and temptation to prolong the anticipation of what was to come.
Now I reached for the take-out bag, which held several more strips of cloth along with our dinner. The strips had been torn from a fine, soft, white bed sheet I had purchased for the occasion. The amount of threads had made it seem almost silky to the touch, and when I found it at the store, I knew it would make the perfect bindings for this evening.
From the bag, I took a strip that had been pre folded in and cut to a length of three feet. This made the perfect blindfold as I slowly placed it over her eyes and pulled it snugly back against her head. Tying it in the rear, I had made her sightless, and the increased heaving of her chest indicated that this had heightened her feeling of helplessness.
Now with a blindfold and hands bound behind, she awaited my next move. I chose to move around her fronts slowly and silently, watching, drinking her in. Her red hair against the white blindfold. Her arms secured behind her back, thrusting her chest forward, a small portion of a handkerchief protruding from her soft lips, she waited there for me, willing, ready, anxious.
I bent in front of her and with one hand slowly pulled the kerchief from her lips and then kissed her, slow at first and then harder, our tongues inter-twining, rushing into passion, energizing the heat, causing her to push towards me in lust and I toward her.
Recovering from the momentary loss of focus, I pulled back and brought the kerchief back to her lips. After licking hers, she opened her mouth and again accepted the stuffing. From out of the bag I brought another folded cloth, this slightly thicker, but of the same length as the other. I stepped behind the chair and brought the center of this to her mouth. Sensing that I was about to secure the gag, she parted her lips and bent slightly forward, accepting it between her teeth. With purpose, but yet with care, I tucked the stuffing safely behind her teeth, effectively gagging her as it was pulled tightly under her ears and knotted behind her head.
There is little else in the world so mesmerising as a well-tied cleve gag on a willing victim. The way the cloth stretches between the lips and almost disappears into her mouth. How the cloth widens along the cheek lines, but then stretches back behind the ears and disappears into a knot behind the head. When a damsel first stretches and tests the limits of the gag are co-existent with the sun appearing at dawn, or perhaps a bird in flight. Only a muffled groan, grunt, or cry in ecstasy that comes from behind the gag compares… in my humble estimation.
She tested the gag with a few mumbles and moans while her hands pulled against their binds. As she did this, I removed several larger strips that had run the length of the sheet. These were to bind her legs and arms to the chair.
Her legs were first, and I bound one, then the other, to the individual legs of the chair, using several loops around each ankle. I was about tie her upper body to the chair when I realized it would be a shame not to emphasize some of her assets.
Kneeling in front of my love, I started to unbutton her blouse. The first three buttons had already been undone, showing a fine amount of cleavage, but I released the remaining buttons, pulling the ends of the shirt from her skirt. I opened the shirt like the covers to a fine book and brought the openings over her shoulders, leaving her heaving chest covered barely by a partially see-through and hardly concealing bra. She had exclaimed behind the folds of the bra when she had been exposed, not in an upset or frightened manner, but in a lustful, sexual way. Dinner was never going to seem so long.
I took another length of cloth and wrapped it below and then above her breasts, and with the remaining strip of cloth, wrapped two loops around her upper arms, behind the back of the chair, causing her to arch even further forward.
I leaned in and whispered to her a question..” Are you ok”? She murmured MMMHHHGGMMM. And nodded in affirmation.
Having secured her to the chair and satisfied with the result, I took a second chair from the table and sat in it directly across from her. I knew I was supposed to feel superior, in control, and even a bit more powerful from this sight. Instead, I was surprised to feel a sense of closeness, warmth, and even affection—something I hadn’t experienced before to this extent, from a moment like this.
There, just feet from my grasp, was a securely bound, gagged, and blindfolded woman at my mercy; however, she was enjoying the moment almost as much as I. That seemed obvious from the soft cooing and small tugs against the bindings. As I watched her teeth grind against the folds of the gag, her breasts heave against their cupped bindings, and her head gently sway behind the blindfold, I felt somehow closer, even gentler than I believed I would.
She spent the next ten minutes testing the security of her bonds and listening while I set the table, laid out the food, and prepared a glass of wine for her and a cold beer for me. She stretched her neck against the tight cloth that covered her eyes and the other that secured the stuffing between her teeth. I walked around her restrained figure, admiring the contrast between the sheets and her skin, how she clenched and unclenched her hands against the bindings, how she strained against the tight bindings that encircled her chest, causing the impression of her now, rock-hard nipples to protest against the bra cups, regardless of its frilly nature. She did not protest, but instead made soft, muffled cooing that announced the pleasure and heightened stage of excitement growing inside her.
I filled a large glass with ice and brought it to the table, letting the ring of the cubes resonate as I set it on the table in front of her.
She stopped and listened, waiting to see what that sound would bring. That wait was not long for moments later, she felt the top edge of her left bazier cup be pulled gently away from her breast. This was followed by first the light touch and then a slow circling of her nipple by a cube of ice. She would have pulled back away from the cold intrusion, but could not due to being bound to the chair. Her back arched with the little room it could find and her head stretched back as her teeth grimaced against the gag.
WWWWMMMFFFFGGGHHH was all she could manage, though it quickly softened into a murmur as the initial shock dissipated. I made a dozen circles on one nipple and then repeated with the second.
She squirmed, tugged, and rubbed her thighs together, and I could tell she was starting to become wet. I removed the ice and left the bra tucked under the lower curve of her heavy breasts, then replaced the cold with the warm caress of my tongue. First one side and then the other. My hand slipped down and inside the waist of her panties, slowly working past her light pubic strip and in between her legs, where it found a warm, moist pocket to explore. Softly and slowly, I worked my mouth and fingers in unison, bringing her closer and closer to a complete fever. She strained harder and harder against her bonds, and her muted cooing became moans of pleasure. I could feel myself moving past mere arousal and gaining heat and intensity as the moment built for both of us.
Before she came to the obvious pending conclusion, though, I pulled back, letting the moment slowly dissipate. She was panting now, and I was taking deep breaths myself, walking back, metaphorically, from the edge. There was plenty of time for all of this, the goal was to stretch out the event, not to rush it.
Once I had regained my control and composure, I smiled, taking her in, in all of her glory and very slowly and carefully pulled the bra back up over the breasts, one at a time, adjusting each so that they filled the cups perfectly and giving each nipple one small tweak. I placed another rice cube in my mouth, leaned forward, and began to untie the gag.
As the cloth slipped from her mouth, I folded it in half and placed it on the table next to her plate. That would be used again in the very near future. Then I picked out the hankie- stuffing that was still dutifully in place and sticking out slightly between her barely parted teeth.
She began to exclaim and thank her gods when I pressed forward and kissed her on the lips, silencing her again. She returned the kiss, eagerly and passionately, her tongue finding the ice cube and sharing it back and forth between her lips. When we broke the kiss I asked if she was ready for her dinner.
Her reply was simple, “Ill let you put anything in my mouth that you want, I am your helpless but very, very willing prisoner.”
I took that in for a moment, smiled deeply, and then slid her chair into position in front of her plate of food.
I spent the next half hour first warming and then feeding the take-out slowly and deliberately while she consumed it equally slowly and enjoyed every morsel.
The remaining events will have to wait for another story.