All through the pandemic lockdown closures in the spring of 2020, like so many “white collar” professionals, my Master and I were working from our one-bedroom apartment home. We only had a dining table and living room coffee table through the worst of it—neither of us had had a need for a dedicated “desk” before, and my 1930s vanity/dressing table in the bedroom was more important to me than a work desk—so we took turns with the dining and coffee tables as necessary for Zoom. Sometimes, one of us would go sit on the bed with our laptop if the other were in some long/distracting phone or video meeting.
But, because we were staying home all day every day and “stuck” with each other, we were also getting a LOT of playtime! I would spend large chunks of many workdays at least partially nude and/or in at least some form of light submission (e.g. gags when I didn’t have calls or meetings, breast and body harnesses, crotch-ropes, insertable vibrators, ankles tied, collar leashed to my table or chair, and combinations thereof), and would get thoroughly tied up in some fashion about once per day. Though I usually wear my wedding ring on a necklace chain (as a “coded” sort of “collar”), I actually have a “formal” jewelry collar that I’ve always worn for dressy occasions (and which became my “wedding collar” after we got married), and I started wearing it around the house daily during this time. Shortly before the pandemic, we had invested in a really nice waterproof rechargeable insertable vibe for me with a remote control for him that I adored, and we got a ton of use out of it. I joked at the time with the fellow subbie lady friend I mentioned in my intro that I had at least something inside me literally every day during the stay-at-home closures!
At some point in late April, I was chatting about this with her (you know who you are if you’re reading this, K, so thank you, hun!) when she gave me one of the best ideas of my life: I decided I would “take the day off” from my work and beg him to leave me roped and gagged nude on the bed all day while he did his work. It was all I could think about for days, and my work performance actually started to suffer. My antsy-ness got so bad by the first weekend of May, I finally “made an appointment” with him for the following week, and decided to give my work notice on Monday morning during my weekly team meeting that I would be taking personal time off that coming Friday the 8th for what I was calling my “Bondage Day Off.” (I can’t remember the specific excuse I gave them, but I obviously didn’t tell them that!) Since it was on a Friday, that gave me essentially a long weekend, and I was extremely happy at the thought of getting to spend all day Friday in bondage—and likely a lot of the weekend, too! I was a nervous wreck with anticipation all that week!
When the morning of the big day finally arrived, I slept in a little (hey, it was still a day off!); had some coffee and a tasty little chocolate croissant; and took a nice, long, hot shower to get myself relaxed and in the mood after Master was done with his morning routine. I “dressed” in just my peach satin lounging robe (and nothing else!) from my favorite vintage repro lingerie brand instead of my usual bathrobe to feel all special and sexy. The soft, smooth fabric on my bare 36C’s and groomed vulva felt amazing, and I knew right away that I had made the right choice.
Master tasked me with sorting out the instruments of my own captivity—all of the rope and implements that would shortly be used to make me his helpless sex object, squee!—while he got his remote workspace set up. If I was going to be “using” the bed, wink wink, he would have the entire living/dining room for a change, so I laid out most of our ropes and gag stuff on the bed. After a final inventory of the various lengths of rope and materials available, I stripped nude—making sure to pee since I didn't know when I would next be able to do so—and draped my satin robe over the back of my vanity chair. Taking my place on the bed, I lounged amongst it all looking sexy while I waited for him to come in and “get me ready” for my day of erotic helplessness.
We had decided over that preceding week that, since I wanted to shoot for being bound and gagged literally all day, he would make my ropework comfortable enough that I could. So we agreed he would rope me into probably my all-time favorite bondage position: ankles and knees together, wrists together (palms facing) behind my back, and a combination bikini/yoke chest harness around my breasts and upper arms. I don’t know if it has a “proper” name, but I usually refer to this position as a “classical” or “damsel” tie since it’s the iconic base pose used in most pop culture and damsel-in-distress depictions—as well as a ton of “serious” bondage.
He casually strolled into the room a few minutes later—cup of coffee in one hand, phone in the other, and eyes glued to the latter—dressed in his usual work-from-home schtick of khakis and long-sleeve collared shirt. He was still taking a pull on the coffee, gawking at his phone, when he happened to spot me out of the corner of his eye. I could see his face light up immediately as he did a literal double-take with his phone, but I have to admit that I halfway hoped he would do (and was a bit disappointed when he didn’t) a spit-take with the coffee.
“I’m ready for you to make me helpless, Master…” I said with over-the-top cartoonish seduction, batting my lashes and stroking my nude body with the arm I wasn’t resting on. (I’m more than a little reluctant to admit it, especially as a submissive, but the ability to manipulate straight males with my feminine sexuality is one of my favorite things about being a woman—right after my boobs and the ability to have multiple orgasms!)
“I see that,” he replied, grinning ear to ear. It seems I had successfully lit a proverbial fire under him, as he hurried to his bedside table to set down the coffee and phone.
“Sit up here so I can get you ready,” he commanded matter-of-factly, pointing to the edge of his side of the bed. I obediently sat up and swung my legs over the side where he was pointing.
“Like this, Master?” I kept up the act from before, dripping with seduction and pouting my lips as I gave him my best doe eyes.
“Yes, that’s a good pet.” He smiled as he cupped my cheek in his hand. I instinctively swooned, mouth partly open and eyes shut reflexively. I knew he loved my aroused reactions, and I made no effort to control them.
“Now stay,” he commanded sternly, index finger outstretched.
“Yes, Master,” I replied as submissively as I could.
He rifled through the top drawer of his bedside table briefly, and I saw him produce that remote control insertable I mentioned earlier with a devious expression. My face (and likely much of my naked body) went red in arousal as I thrilled at what he clearly had in mind.
“My naughty little sex slave needs something to keep her occupied and out of trouble while I work,” he said as he powered it on and put it into standby mode.
I blushed and stammered out a “Yes, Master; thank you, Master” as I maneuvered on the bed to spread my legs and pussy lips to give him access, and gasped as he shoved it up in me. He quickly picked up one of the appropriate lengths of rope and set to work tying a crotch-rope at my waist to hold it in place. After cinching a rope “belt” below my belly button, he threaded the loose end through the “extraction” loop on the end of the vibe that was sticking out from my lower lips, teasing me as he worked. I moaned as he pulled it between and down into my lips and squealed as he tugged it up into me hard before knotting it off in the small of my back. I’m usually not super keen on crotch-ropes—I have a fairly sensitive clit, don’t like anal stimulation (I tolerate animal tail plugs because I love the fluffy tail parts), and would much rather leave my pussy open for… “access”—but I had kinda figured something like this would be coming since it was the perfect opportunity for it, and I just knew he was going to have so much fun teasing and tormenting me. I have to admit that I was getting intensely excited thinking about it! Well… from that, and from the nylon rope stroking my pussy and clit!
He usually ties my legs first so I can hold myself up and adjust my position, or hold a stray rope end or my hair out of the way with my hands still free if necessary, and I always love both the feel and the symbolism of my wrists being the last to be tied as the final piece to make me truly helpless. (No bondage is complete for me without my hands being tied in some fashion, but I digress…) After the crotchrope, he securely bound my ankles, and cinched my legs tightly together both above and below the knee.
“Up.” He gestured for me to stand up, cradling one of our longest ropes in the other hand, and I obediently complied.
“Now turn around,” as he made a finger twirl gesture. I once again obeyed without question, shuffling around to face the bed.
He assertively took hold of my wrists and pulled them together behind my back to force my upper arms to my sides, then wrapped the rope several times both above and below my ample breasts. I jiggled them playfully as he worked, giggling coquettishly, and moaned in pleasure as he groped them in response. Once he was done with the base wraps, he passed the rope under my armpit, over my shoulder, along the back of my neck, and then down to form the yoke. After cinching that off at the anchor loop in the center of my back, he went up my back, over my sternum and under the lower base wrap, then around itself and back up over the other side of my neck to frame my boobs in a bikini shape. He still had some slack, so he cinched this off at the anchor, ran it up and over the yoke and back, then wrapped up and around that length over and over until he eventually ran out of rope and knotted it off.
And now for the last, best, most delicious part: my wrists! I bent forward over and onto the bed in order to “present” them to him to make it easier for him. With my cheek pressed into the mattress, I submissively held them a few centimeters apart behind my back for him, fingers together and outstretched femininely.
“What a good pet,” he affirmed as he patted my butt affectionately. I cooed as he dutifully wrapped loops of rope around my outstretched wrists. With each successive wrap, I moaned progressively more in ever-increasing bliss from my helplessness—which turned to pure complete ecstasy when he cinched them down and knotted it off!
I tested all my bonds, and I was happily nice and helpless! He wandered off somewhere behind me as I moaned happily—still bent over, waiting for my next command as a good submissive sex slave. While I couldn’t see what he was doing, I knew it was now time for me to be gagged. I could tell a surprise was coming when I heard rummaging in our closet followed by a devious chuckle.
“Up, and open your mouth,” he commanded me matter-of-factly.
I meekly obeyed and felt what turned out to be an entire pair of my panties getting stuffed into my pert little mouth. I grunted in exaggerated annoyance—while I adore the results of mouth stuffing, I have a fairly small mouth and don’t particularly enjoy the act or sensation—and tried to make a displeased face that he wouldn’t be able to see from behind me anyway.
“Hush, pet.”
Apparently not trusting me not to spit it out (probably a good bet), he held it in my mouth with one hand while he maneuvered my bound body and came around in front of me. For my part, I held my irritated expression so he could see. He chuckled lightly and tweaked my nipple, and I yelped through the cloth.
“Behave.” His tone was more bemused than reproachful. I nodded with a “Yeph, Maphpuh,” and once again became the demure submissive. The moment had passed.
He then set to work sealing my lips over with long, 7-8” strips from the roll of duct tape I had laid out earlier and smoothing them flat on my face. Another… and another… and another… Everything from below my chin to the bottom of my nose and over my cheekbones was thoroughly and neatly sealed with about 8 or 9 strips of sticky silver duct tape as I moaned, squealed, and tested it. When he was done with the roll, he finished by wrapping my whole lower face in a self-adhesive elastic bandage (like Ace Bandage, but a version called “Vetrap” designed for veterinary applications that’s a lot thinner and easier to work with) and pressed and smoothed that down over my face on top of the duct tape.
“I need to make sure you're quiet so you don't bother me while I'm working, pet!”
I gave him an unamused look and tried screaming as loudly and making as much noise as possible to sass him—but absolutely nothing came out, which was sooo damned hot! He just smirked at me and raised one hand mockingly to his ear.
“What was that? Speak up, I can’t understand you,” he teased, and I rolled my eyes as I groaned in highly exaggerated “displeasure.” Now I was securely gagged and totally helpless!
He fondled my boobs, and I moaned; struggled; and pretended to “resist” as best I could while helpless in something like 200’ of rope with my legs welded together and wrists tied tightly behind my back. He pushed me down onto the bed, and I shrieked loudly (which came out as little more than a muffled squeal through my thorough gag) in surprise. I yelled angrily behind my gag about the unexpected shove as he rolled me over onto my front and gave me a big fat spank on the butt—making me squeal even more into the gag.
“Now, you be a good little slave and behave for your owner!” he admonished (outstretched index finger and all) before turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind him. The tide of endorphins from the adrenaline rush of the fall and being spanked was starting to wash over me, so I happily mmpph-ed into my gag and started struggling and rolling around on the bed, bare nipples rubbing the sheets and grinding against my crotchrope, excited to have my fun!
I honestly have no idea how much time passed just writhing happily bound and gagged on the bed; we have a bedside clock, but I couldn’t see it in my position. I had almost forgotten about the vibe inside me (though I couldn't forget about that delicious crotchrope) when it suddenly jumped to life! I squealed as loudly as possible through close to 10 layers of duct tape and several yards of elastic bandage wrap. It whirred several times in a repeating, increasing kind of wave pattern meant to simulate slow thrusting. I humped at it and moaned, but it only ran for like 30 seconds before shutting off! I groaned in genuine frustration as I realized this was totally going to be his plan, to keep teasing and edging me all day from his remote control. With a lot of luck and good timing, I thought I might be able to come from it—but probably not if he had anything to say about it. I was well and truly stuck (in multiple ways!) until after he was done for the day and could do something about it himself.
What a pussytease! I thought, with an annoyed expression.
The morning went on like this for I would guess 2-3 hours: me writhing and struggling happily on the bed, grinding against my crotch-rope and the vibe it held within, punctuated with occasional unpredictable bursts of activity from his controlling my vibe. Never enough to make me seriously aroused or anywhere near climax, but more than enough to keep things interesting!
I figured it must be about time for his lunch break when I heard his footsteps outside the bedroom, so I rolled to face the opening door and struggled to sit up. Squirming happily to entice his attention, I bounced and waggled my tits as I tried to “mmphh” as cutely as I could. He just laughed on his way into the bathroom, ignoring me!
The nerve! I thought, grumbling softly.
On his way out, he sat down on the bed right next to me and gazed at me the way one would a new car, with pride of ownership and caring protectiveness. I gave him my best, cutest, sexiest doe-eyed innocent submissive pouty face (protip for any submissives reading this: duck your head but look up at him with your eyes wide open in a questioning look while you slowly mug from cheek-to-cheek) while whimpering as best I could through my heavy gag.
Come on, dammit! Touch me! Play with me!
He chuckled and cupped my girls in both hands, and I gave my best bedroom eyes and gagged aroused moan. I wasn’t acting, because both they and I loved the attention!
“You're so damned cute!” he enthused and kissed me on the gag where my lips would be. “Is my pet enjoying herself?”
HELL yes!
I nodded and “mm-hmm'd” seductively, wriggling and shaking my boobs to hopefully get him to toy with them more. He “pretended” not to hear me or notice and continued with the verbal teasing.
“What was that? Do you like being my helpless plaything?”
Of course I do, you sexy jerk! I thought. But instead, I replied with the absolute sexiest “Mmm-HMMM!” you've ever heard and batted my eyelashes at him—which obviously pleased him, because he gently played with my tits (mission accomplished!), and I made sure he could tell how much I enjoyed it!
“I'm going to go make a sandwich, so be a good little sex slave until I'm done for the day.” It was like one of those record scratch freeze frame scenes from the beginning of an ‘80s or ’90s movie, and my eyes went wide.
Seriously?! I all-but shouted, but only a heavily muffled “Mhmphmph?!” came out.
He playfully tweaked my nipples; I squealed, and he smiled wryly in satisfaction at my reaction. Emboldened, he tugged hard at the front of my crotch-rope to tease me, and his smile broadened as I squealed again and moaned. I was angry at myself for moaning, but tried not to show it as I proceeded to whine in disappointment over the teasing “neglect.” He came back at me with a stern look that said “behave” without actually having to say a word. My gaze falling from his eyes in submissive shame, I managed to squeeze out an obedient (and completely muffled) “Yes, Master” behind the gag before he went back out—presumably to the kitchen—closing the door behind him a second time and leaving me alone once more.
Almost immediately, the vibe jumped to life again! I squealed and moaned yet again, trying to get off from it as best I could by bucking as it stimulated me, but it shut off after less than 30 seconds again!
NOOOOO!!
Screaming into my gag, I thrashed wildly against my bonds in immense (sexual) frustration, nearly falling off the bed in the process. Whatever the girl equivalent of the male “blue balls” is (“blue vulva?” “blue clit?” LOL), this was the worst case I’d ever had!
Okay, Linds, get a hold of yourself.
I lay there motionless on my side for a long few moments—disoriented and unsure of precisely how I ended up that way when I had been sitting upright before—red-faced and breathing hard as I tried to control my arousal and catch my breath. A deeply pissed-off look was clearly evident on what was visible of my face above my gag (I could just see myself in our full-length mirror), plainly communicating something along the lines of “I would kick him in the butt so hard if my legs weren’t bound, then immediately furiously masturbate to orgasm if my hands weren’t bound”—though obviously neither of those things were the case! I tried to collect myself, and my thoughts and feelings, but the vibe kicked in again right as I was starting to cool down!
“MMMPPPHHH!!”
As during the morning, I had no idea how much time was actually passing, but he kept that up ALL. afternoon! By the time I could see the change in the afternoon light coming in the bedroom window (it faces in such a way that we get a blast of sun starting about 4/5 PM that time of year), I was intensely horny; my pussy chafed from being rubbed by the crotch-rope all day; and all my cute, demure struggling had been replaced by serious thrashing around in my bonds in very real frustration and desperation. I really hoped he would stop tormenting me and finally just let me cum! After one particular bout of this frenzied struggling, I could hear him taunt me from the door.
“Awww, what's the matter, slave?” He emphasized the last word sarcastically. You don't like my teasing you like this?”
No, Master! I’m begging you, please let me cum! I sobbed into my gag and shook my head, thrashing some more.
“Awww, poor pet…”
He was clearly enjoying himself immensely at my expense, but my heart leapt when I felt the vibe roar to life!
“MMMmmm…!” I groaned in satisfaction, shutting my eyes from the pleasure, and he chuckled something (I honestly wasn't paying attention to him at this point, blinded as I was by my fog of lust and need) about how nice he was for giving his pet a treat.
After all the build-up, all the tease and denial, I was finally getting my long-awaited orgasm! Moaning and bucking like a mare in heat, I came quickly, and the release was heavenly! White hot euphoria permeated every cell in my body as my mind and vision went blank. My body involuntarily began to quiver and moan, and both things progressively built in strength as the orgasm raged. I screamed in orgasm as loudly as I ever had (I was beyond grateful to have been gagged as thoroughly as I was lest the neighbors hear me and—God forbid!—call the police!), and strained as hard against my ropes as a jet engine at take-off!
After a while, the tide of tremendous pleasure peaked and began to ebb, though the orgasmic shock wave continued to reverberate. I collapsed back into myself and my bonds with the vibe still going, and I continued to feel and quiver from its effects. As I lay there spent from that first intense orgasm for what felt like an hour (but was likely only about a minute), I attempted to catch my breath as best I could through my nose alone, even more helpless than before for the fatigue.
In spite of my exhaustion, because of my intense, pent-up desire, my body and mind were both absolutely, positively rarin' to go for a second—particularly as my vibe continued buzzing away inside me. I panted hard through my nose, moaning in pleasure through my securely sealed lips as I once more began humping and grinding against both vibe and crotchrope alike. This time, the orgasm came more slowly, requiring a lot more “work” on my part. Slowly, a warm wave of a milder—but no less delightful—pleasure roiled through me like a tub filling with hot water. Though it was noticeably less intense than the first (which was admittedly the single most intense orgasm I’d ever had in my life to this point), this orgasm lasted a lot longer as I shook and twitched.
As with the one before, this tide of enjoyment once again ebbed gradually, leaving several aftershocks in its wake. Even just lying there without actively trying to struggle, I could hardly catch my breath gasping desperately for air through only my 2 dainty little nostrils with my lips securely and (semi-)permanently sealed. If I thought I was worn out before…!
After 2 quick orgasms in very short order, the orgasmic “honeymoon” from literal hours of tease and denial was waning. I was starting to feel seriously physically drained and tired, but I quickly realized the vibe wasn't backing off at all, and started to struggle frantically once more. I had no idea what his game was, but I didn't know if I could handle more than a couple orgasms like that in rapid succession. (I mean, yes, like a lot of women, I had had multiple orgasms, but never before three in less than five minutes.) I started to thrash again in increasing desperation as I caught something of a second wind, which made me come again from struggling in my tight ropes!
“MMMRRRPPHH!!”
This orgasm was decidedly less enjoyable than the first two (under the circumstances), but no less enormous in magnitude and duration. I shuddered and collapsed once more, very-nearly shattered by the relentless pleasure endlessly coursing through my helplessly bound body.
It was at about this time—while I was in a tired daze attempting to catch my breath from that third massive orgasm, and whimpering helplessly as my vibe kept buzzing away mercilessly—that I saw him come out of the bathroom nude with a raging erection. I could feel myself turn beet red despite myself.
“Awww, what’s the matter, pet?” he teased sarcastically. “I thought you wanted to cum?”
Of COURSE I wanted to cum, you jerk! But not like this! This is too much!
“Mph, Mphph, MPH mmphh mm mph!” (“Please, Master, please turn it off!”) I begged and whined.
He walked slowly over to the bed, and I gave him my most genuinely forlorn, distressed face as I whimpered and moaned, begging and pleading with him to turn my vibe off. Without acknowledging my predicament or my appeals, he firmly grabbed me by the yoke on the back of my chest harness with one hand and my crotchrope with the other. Using the leverage from both, he pulled me to the edge of the bed and up into a sitting position facing him as I squealed loudly in genuine surprise under his control.
“Let's fix that for you, pet.”
I felt him untying the end of the crotchrope before pulling the sopping wet pussyfloss and vibe out of my now borderline numb lips and vagina. The rope made a slick ‘schloop’ sound, followed by the wet ‘pop’ of the vibe. Both were accompanied by a peculiar tactile sensation that was strikingly similar to pulling a drool-covered leather strap ball-gag out of my mouth after wearing it for hours, except at my lower lips. I was still panting heavily from all my previous exertion, but managed to breathe a distinct sigh of relief between gulps of air through my nose. He continued to undo the waist portion of my crotchrope, but my pussy and I both knew what was coming next!
He dropped the wet rope, soaked through with my pussy juices, onto the floor. Holding my still thoroughly gagged face by the chin in one hand and one of my breasts in the other, he looked me square in the eye as he pulled close.
“Now it's MY turn.”
His voice oozed dominance and masculine lust, which I was always elated beyond words to be able to inspire in him. It made me intensely hot even though I was wildly exhausted, and I could feel myself positively gushing with pussy juices. (In retrospect, it’s perversely funny to say I was both literally and figuratively drained!) Though I was still gasping for air through my nose trying to catch my breath from before, I whimpered slightly—excited (and relieved) at finally getting his cock inside me, but trying to sound like the helpless “damsel-in-distress” I was.
Repositioning his grip on my chest yoke “handle” and the rope binding above my knees now that I didn’t have a crotchrope, he wordlessly rolled me over onto my front on the bed. I had seen this coming (no pun intended) when he stepped out of the bathroom nude and erect several minutes earlier, but I stage-squealed for good measure because I figured it was expected of me in my position at this time. He finished getting me in position for him by forcefully pulling my hips back to the edge of the bed (which, even though I was expecting it, elicited a genuine squeal) and positioning my feet flat under me on the floor.
He was clearly getting ready to take me from behind, but was taking his sweet time. I absolutely love that position for bondage sex because it feels so degrading, makes me feel so submissive and used! The anticipation of sitting there—bent over the bed with my sex up in the air on full display while helplessly bound and gagged—waiting for him to actually do anything while he dawdled for what seemed like ages was killing me!
“MMPH, mph! Mm mmph mm mmmphmph mph, mphmphmph!” I wriggled in frustration, moaning my dissatisfaction and incoherently begging him to stick it in already!
“Now, now, pet…” he chuckled, lovingly petting and stroking the small of my back and my ass—taking excruciating care not to come anywhere near my labia. “Be patient for your Master.” In spite of myself, a soothing submissive thrill coursed through me from butt to brain as he fondled me. I cooed softly, appeased for the moment.
I could both hear his footsteps and feel his presence as he carefully positioned himself directly behind me, and I gasped when he firmly grasped both of my hips. He slowly—painstakingly slowly—sidled up to my exposed, now literally dripping pussy, and I was panting and breathing hard through my nose in deep arousal. Gently spreading my glistening lips with his thumbs on my inner thighs (which made me gasp and pant even harder when I felt them part), he slowly pressed his firm, warm (bare!) tip against my insides. I felt the heat coming from his glans spread into my body and both moaned and shuddered, held securely tight and helpless while involuntarily struggling against my ropes. He cackled in satisfaction, but held there for a longer-than-necessary moment as he enjoyed my helpless struggles and muzzled chatter. We both loved it when he teased me (at least I usually did), but I was desperate for his cock by this point and begged him for it with increasingly frustrated gagged moans.
Finally deciding I had had enough, he gave up on the slow torment and thrust hard, plunging inside me from behind with his rock-solid cock!
“MMMMRRRRNNNNN!”
I groaned loudly (eliciting more laughter and verbal teasing from him that I didn’t really hear in my state) in the kind of deep satisfaction that can only come after an extended period of anticipation and denial; I’m sure cartoon hearts visibly fluttered around me. Repositioning his hands from my thighs and hips, he reached around my flanks to grope my still-helplessly-bound tits while he thrust into me with loud, wet sounds.
It felt like someone had cracked a Glo-Stick in my brain as a pulse of warm white light and heat flashed through my entire being. After all the hours of relentless tease and denial, this was just too much! Even through that super-effective gag, I moaned loud enough in such a thunderous orgasm that I’m shocked in retrospect that our neighbors didn’t call the police! Clenching against his hard cock with all the force my insides could muster as I came, I could feel him flexing and squirting inside me as he came in me in turn. Flushed and red with the bliss of my already powerful climax, his hot cum inside me intensified my own orgasm. I hungrily, greedily milked him of every drop for all I was worth before collapsing in my bonds!
“…mph……mm……mph…”
It was all I could do to just lay there—completely spent, motionless, and literally glowing pink in post-coital ecstasy—panting and whimpering mindlessly. He slowly began to come to his senses and stroke me lovingly with both hands.
“That was wonderful! What a fantastic little pet-slave you are!”
My submissive glee at his caresses and effusive praise was thoroughly dampened by the fact it was all I could do at this point simply to stay awake.
“…Mph, mm… Mphph…” I gasped, eyelids heavy and only about halfway open.
He slowly, carefully pulled out, and I could feel myself dripping with a mixture of our fluids, some of it trickling down my legs to the floor. I could vaguely hear him chuckle and make some wisecrack about it, but it was so far away, and I was so incredibly worn out. I was drifting in and out, but he evidently left me there bent over the edge of the bed, dozing in my exhausted fog while he cleaned up after us. (Even though I'm the sub, I've always been really happy that he deals with the cleanup while I’m still bound!)
Only then, after he had wiped off my sex and mopped up the drippings, did he finally start to untie me—though he started with my legs, and purposely made no effort to dismantle my elaborate gag. It seemed to take even longer to untie than it had to tie me, but that may have been colored somewhat by my physical and emotional state at this point. Once my wrists were finally loose, I struggled to reach up to my face and grasp at the edges of the tape while he continued working on the chest harness that comprised the last of my ropes. Feebly fumbling in desperation, I peeled and ripped the seemingly half a roll of duct tape off my face and let out a loud, satisfied gasp. I forcefully spit my saliva-soaked panties out onto the bed before me with a defeated “bleh” sound.
Once I was free—and after I peed, because female UTIs are no laughing matter—I took several nice, big drinks of water, then flopped back onto the bed to stretch out all 4 limbs and luxuriate in my freedom from 8+ hours of erotic captivity! He lied down on the bed next to me and casually placed one hand on my breast.
“Did you enjoy yourself, hun?” he asked gently. He was no longer his sex slave’s demanding, devious owner; now he was the love of my life, my husband and Master.
I turned to him with a tired, yet broad and genuine smile.
“Oh, absolutely!” I enthused, still literally glowing. “You know how much I adore being your sex toy, helpless; teased; and used…” I added seductively, batting my eyelashes at him.
He chuckled.
“I sure do.” He leaned in and we kissed sweetly.
We lie there cuddling nude on the bed for a nice long time (I couldn’t tell how long, and genuinely didn’t care), enjoying each other’s intimacy; soft skin; and warmth. He eventually started to get restless when the arm he had around me began to fall asleep, and I pointedly teased him about being a wuss relative to what I had just gone through!
“Oh, come on, you lightweight! I was just bound, with my wrists tied tightly together behind my back and a chest harness pressing on my arms, for 8 hours!”
He burst out laughing.
“Well, I guess I don’t have the extensive practice that you do with that!” He kissed me again, playfully, as he sat up. “Why don’t we take a nice, hot shower together to make that better?”
I smiled at him contentedly, fingers of one hand lightly running up his arm and shoulder.
“I’d like that.”
When we got out of the shower, my jaw was pretty sore from the aforementioned 8 hours of gag stuffing, so we decided to make pasta for dinner. Afterwards, we had a nice, romantic evening with a bottle of a decent red wine; some snuggling on the couch with a favorite movie; and a nice, looooong well-earned sleep!
It was a very good day!