Vanilla Bondage Sex?
Can bondage sex be vanilla? I don’t know, honestly. I mean, it’s not missionary in the dark. But this anecdote from Letters To Penthouse XXXXV tells the story of some wedding-night bondage sex that’s literally just bondage (handcuffs and scarves) and sex. There aren’t any BDSM behaviors except the fluffy bondage — no domming, no stern talk, no impact play, no edging, not even a serious tickle. It’s tie, kiss, finger, fuck, orgasm, untie, sleepytime!
Most people think that wedding-night sex should be simple and romantic, very traditional. But Will and I aren’t exactly a regular couple, and we couldn’t let our special night be anything less than perfect—perfectly kinky, that is.
Like other brides, I packed my overnight bag with white, lacy lingerie and pristine stockings, all brand-new and only for Will to see. And underneath the wedding-night lingerie were silk scarves—all black, in stark contrast to my ensemble—and a pair of silver handcuffs. As I mentioned, my husband and I aren’t exactly your run-of-the-mill couple.
As soon as we entered the honeymoon suite in the hotel that night, I had Will unzip my dress, and I ducked into the bathroom to quickly change into my lingerie while he stripped himself. My wedding-night outfit consisted of a garter belt and white stockings, and a white, ribbed corset. I pulled my hair down and let it cascade over my shoulders, checked my makeup in the mirror, and went back into the bedroom to join my husband. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with the silk ties in one hand and the handcuffs in the other, clearly ready to get down to business.
He stood up when he saw me, and I saw his dick twitch in his boxers. It was obvious my ensemble aroused him, and I smiled, glad I’d at least taken the traditional route in dressing up for our first night together as husband and wife. We shared a deep, passionate kiss, and I could tell how much he wanted me from that simple gesture. As I leaned into him, I felt his dick growing against my body, and I knew I’d be enjoying more than his kisses in a minute.
Will dropped the handcuffs on the bed and slipped his free hand between my legs, letting his fingers probe my pussy. I got wet fast, his ministrations bringing me quickly to an aroused state. As he fingered me, he guided me toward the bed, his body moving this way and that until I fell onto the mattress. I moved toward the middle of the bed and got on my back as soon as Will let me, and that’s when things went from average to explosive.
My husband locked the handcuffs around my wrists first, the chain between them looping around a slat in the headboard. The hard, cold metal felt incredible in contrast with the delicate garments I’d been wearing all day, and I couldn’t wait for him to start tying the silk scarves.
With my hands pulled up over my head, Will ran his hand down my body, teasing me as he moved to the foot of the bed, where he fastened each of my ankles to the bedposts. As he pulled the scarves tight around my limbs, I felt my entire body tingle, and my cunt began to throb. I could feel the wetness of my pussy as my juices began to dribble out of me, and I wondered if Will could see my arousal between my legs. Not that he needed to see my dripping pussy to know how turned on I was—my moans made it pretty obvious.
As soon as he’d secured my ankles to the bedposts, Will climbed onto the bed with me and started to crawl up my body. I wanted to grab him and pull him to me, force him to kiss me—to fuck me—but I couldn’t. The most I could do was writhe under his touch and beg for more, and I certainly did both.
“Please, Will, fuck me!” I begged. “I need to feel you inside me!”
But he wasn’t going to give me what I wanted so easily. Instead he straddled me, his boxers still on, and teased me. He traced lines over my corset with his fingertips, and he leaned in to place featherlight kisses on my face. I was breathing hard, my breasts heaving against my corset’s boning, and my pussy was practically gushing as I waited impatiently for my new husband to start fucking me.
I struggled against my bonds as I tried to get closer to Will—to no avail. He’d tied me up tight, and there was no way for me to gain the upper hand. But the struggle made the silk ties tighten around my ankles and the metal of the handcuffs press against my wrists, and feeling that resistance turned me on even more. There was no way for me to get my mind off of what was happening now. If Will didn’t take off his shorts and fuck me soon, I was going to go crazy.
Will lay on top of me, and I felt his hard shaft pressing against me through his boxers. I wanted him more than I ever had before, and he could feel it. He still wasn’t going to give in to my pleas for his cock, though, and instead I felt one of his fingers work its way between my wet folds. His digit thrust right up inside me, and my back arched as he pleasured my pussy. Each time he wiggled his finger, my body would respond, twisting this way and that to get more, and every movement caused my bonds to pull me back into place. It was an impossible struggle, but my heart pounded as it aroused me more and more.
By the time Will took off his shorts, I was already on the verge of an explosive orgasm. He slid easily into my wet cunt, and he finally started to fuck me. With each thrust, I was reminded of my bindings, and waves of pleasure washed over me every time I tried to move. Bending my knees pulled at the silky ankle bonds, and reaching for my husband made the metal cuffs tug at my wrists. Even the corset I wore seemed restrictive, and I relished the pressure it created.
My husband was still on top of me, thrusting deep into my waiting pussy, and I pumped my hips in time with his, needing to be closer to him. The more we moved against each other, the tighter the handcuffs and ankle ties seemed, and it felt delicious. I didn’t want the sensations to stop, and I worked myself into a frenzy of passion as I fucked Will enthusiastically.
I’d been on the edge ever since Will had climbed into bed with me, and finally I went over it, crying out happily as I climaxed. It was the most explosive orgasm of my life, and I bucked against my husband—and my bonds—as the feelings of ecstasy rushed through my body. Will came a minute later, thrusting into me one last time before filling me with his cream.
Even after he untied me and stripped me of my corset, I could still feel the lingering sensation of my bonds, and I loved it. I fell asleep with my husband’s arms wrapped around me, and I dreamed of all the kinky sex games we would play on our honeymoon. As far as I was concerned, it was the perfect start to our marriage.
—Ms. Jasmine K.
It’s probably worth noting that the “letters” published in various Penthouse publications over the decades are a genre of erotic fiction, commissioned by the word from professional smut writers and packaged as “reader letters” as a sales gimmick. There’s not a thing wrong with that, of course, but when you see a “genre” fetish letter that doesn’t push very many of the usual kink buttons, it helps to remember that the author may not in fact know what those buttons are.
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