Bondage Blog

From Tangy Sweet:

He didn’t ask me the first time. He simply got out the rope and demanded my wrists. I could have said no and he would’ve stopped, but I was playfully curious. I didn’t know then that it would open a door in my psyche that I didn’t even know existed. I didn’t know then that door would open into a world that had only ever just tickled the edges of my consciousness. I never thought I’d visit, let alone live there.

The first time, watching him stalk around the bed with the rope held loosely in one hand as he figured out the best way to bind me, I’d giggled nervously. I cracked jokes and felt my stomach flutter. But when the rope slipped around my wrists, when it pulled tight, spreading my arms and making it impossible for me to cover my breasts, my cunt, my face, the giggling and jokes stopped.

Exposed and feeling somehow strangely honest, he teased me ruthlessly; building me up and easing me back down over and over. He controlled not only my ability to move, but when and how I would cum. That night he drew out something inside me that had been only an unrecognized speck before. He fanned the speck until it glimmered brilliantly, set only to intensify with time.

That first time he bound my wrists and spread my legs without a word, he teased me until I panted and I moaned, until I begged him for release. When I came, I did it thrashing and pulling at the rope as the waves of it overwhelmed me.