You have been a little too demanding today and insisting that I cook dinner was the last straw. OK I will cook dinner but you will be eating it on my terms.
The comfortable straight backed chair in the dining room is my starting point, so please take your seat while I prepare dinner. I hope you're sitting comfortably; maybe a cushion would help for who knows you may be there some time. Of course your ankles get tied one to each chair leg. Nothing too restrictive such as being pulled back off the floor, just feet resting on the floor but with no option to move them.
Now what to do with your hands? They could be pulled behind the chair and tied to it for the delicious effect that has on your breasts, put perhaps kinder and sufficient to just have the leather cuffs on and fastened to each side of the chair back. Actually quite a relaxing position but like I said you won't be going anywhere for some time.
So far so good but rather boring. A blindfold and some headphones to deaden any sounds would add a touch of uncertainty and anticipation as to what might follow. In your dark, silent and restrained world do seconds seem like minutes? And does the passage of time heighten the senses or add a hint of apprehension? Something cold touches your lips and you react with a jolt. Was it a glass of water being offered or an ice cube? An eternity passes, have you been left alone or is that breathing you feel on your cheek? A warm lingering and loving kiss assures you that you are not alone.
You are wearing a button up blouse and my fingers, as light as a butterfly's touch, work at the buttons. Your nipples harden, more from arousal than exposure to the air.
A wooden spoon smacks the upper side of each breast in quick succession loud enough to be heard through your silencing headphones. Oh that stung a little, will more follow? No, a familiar tongue is already soothing the reddening marks. Hands slide down the cups of your bra to remove the contents from their warm confinement. But then what awaits them.
I'm sorry to say we just can't carry on like this.
The problem is that you have a blouse draped over your shoulders and a bra around your upper torso and that's just too inhibiting for what's to follow. So one wrist at a time is released to allow a blouse sleeve and bra strap to be removed. Of course the wrist is secured again before the other side experiences the same treatment. Can't have both released simultaneously that would offer too much freedom.
You’re still blindfolded so wonder what's to become of your new found nakedness. A sweet smell of lemon pervades the atmosphere, what the hell is that about? You recognise the odour, it's your washing up liquid! Is the crazy guy about to do the washing up?
A warm finger caresses each nipple and aureola and the smell of lemon intensifies. The thermal shock of an ice cube massaging the liquid across and into the end of each breast follows. Your nipples harden and crinkle. Interesting but where's this going you wonder?
An unfamiliar sensation cups your right nipple. Lips, an egg cup? Then you feel your nipple being pulled as if suckled hard by a baby. But the sensation doesn't stop, more and more of your nipple, aureola and breast tissue is drawn tighter and tighter into a confining tube of some sort. The soapy liquid serves to lubricate the passage of your flesh deeper into the device. It's being squeezed and pulled at the same time and hurts.
Symmetry has a certain beauty so no surprise that your left nipple and breast tissue receives the same treatment but for some reason its passage into compression and confinement seems more painful.
Both your breasts are then pulled forward and lifted high by the devices attached to them. A little jiggling to smack your boobs together doesn't serve to release them from their torment. Hands squeeze each breast in turn forcing it to swell and increase the sensation in what you now realise are suction cups of the type used to withdraw snake venom.
Does this excite you, hurt you, make you wish it would stop, or wonder what else might befall you? Before you have time to answer your own thoughts, the familiar feel of rope being applied to the base of you right breast draws you back to the present. Multiple turns of rope encircle your increasingly sensitive flesh contorting it into a new shape. Prouder, standing away from your chest but feeling like it might burst. Symmetry again. Your left breast becomes like a reflection of its partner the squeezing and stretching sensation in your nipples becomes profound and the centre of your attention.
No, surely not! But yes, your torso is involuntarily pulled to the right as the rope on your breast is pulled tight and tied to the side of the chair. Bringing you back to a central position is achieved by a similar treatment to your left breast being pulled and secured to the left of the chair. Like the old advert for bras you are lifted and separated far beyond what any bra could achieve.
A stab of bright light temporarily blinds you as the blindfold is removed. As your vision comes into focus the first thing to meet your gaze is a cock confined and contorted in a male chastity device. The balls are swollen and blue. The cock obviously attempting to become erect but foiled by the steel cage. The whole contraption weighs heavy hanging the balls and cock unnaturally lower than normal.
You are shocked to see the suction cups on your breasts are barely half engaged.
The reason the suction cups were applied before your breast binding was to take advantage of the ability to draw the looser flesh deeper into the cups at the outset. But as you noticed they are but half engaged. So with a few twists of the tensioning keys more suction is applied pulling your nipples even deeper. A groan and wince from your lips shows you are feeling the pinch. But that's not the only piece of anatomy suffering.
Your partner's cock is clearly attempting to become more engorged and succeeds to a limited extent by pushing its flesh between the bars of its confining cage. Hands fumble and try to ease the excruciating pain, but no amount of pulling or twisting affords any movement or release. At least the flesh looks warm suggesting that there's still blood flowing. But the ball sack seems stretched to bursting - as tight a drum skin and glistening.
Obviously his plight is worsened by the sight of your naked condition and especially yours boobs that he has fashioned so beautifully but which are also the cause of his own suffering condition.
The wooden spoon is to hand and is used to stroke and tease the whole area of each breast as they stand proud of your chest. But no more than gentle stoking, at least so far.
No attention has been paid to the area below your tummy, so maybe it's time to explore there. As your skirt is lifted a surprise awaits. No tights or knickers, a rush of excitement is acknowledged by a twitching cock that has no chance of rising to the occasion.
30 feet of rope now adorns the kitchen table alongside the spoon. Despite your protests that, "it’s impossible" the rope is bought into play.
I should have said at the outset we need a "safe word" to call a halt to proceeding at any time. So choose your word. And before we continue are you comfortable? No aches, or pins and needles or pains? Well maybe a few pains that you are happy to accept.
"Impossible" you repeat, but with wriggling and some effort the loop half way along the rope is passed under your bottom and brought up to be near your belly button. The two ends of the rope pass between the cheeks of your bum, are knotted and the ends brought to your front. Then they pass though the loop at your belly button before being brought round your waist again to the rear.
Fingers gently open your female lips and carefully position the two rope strands one on each side of your swelling and inviting clit. Satisfied that the positioning is just right the ropes are tensioned and tied to the back of the chair. Attempts at shifting your position just causes movement that hovers somewhere between ecstasy and uncomfortable pain. Next an artist's brush moistened with oil traces around, over and inside your lips until the deepening of your groans and shifting of your hips signals it's time to stop while you come down from the brink.
A vibrator brings a much quicker response but again is stopped when it's judged it might take you too far too soon. So a change of sensation from pleasure to pain is called for. The wooden spoon impacts the inside of each breast, each still drawn apart by the unforgiving ropes that secure them to the chair sides. Another couple of stinging blows to the undersides. Are you still OK? No need for a safe word?
After a pause to regain your breath strong hands grasp your breasts and knead them like dough, and again, and again, and again. Your voice has grown husky and your throat dry. Your condition is eased by sipping a drink offered through a straw. But as your attention is diverted a finger slips into your most private part to test how moist you have become. The barometer of your arousal confirms you are warming up nicely as does the blushing of your chest and breasts.
Some final twists on the keys of the suction cups brings them to the limit of their movement and compresses your nipples against the inside ends of the cups, surely this will be too much to endure for more than a few seconds! But the buzz of a vibrator against your clit pulls your mind's attention away from your tortured breasts to the centre of your sexual arousal. This time there is no stopping on the journey to your ultimate orgasm. On the way there your tits are stretched, lifted and dropped time after time, seemingly oblivious to the pain as your orgasm takes hold. The wooden spoon is raised ready to strike and bring you to the peak but there is no need - your bucking and writhing shows the satisfaction that you have achieved.
As you begin to come down from your ecstasy your eyes open to the sight of that poor cock, reddened, swollen yet confined to a mere four centimetre stump that glistens with the juice of arousal but can have no release unless you permit it. Your partner begs to be released in the hope you might tell him where the keys to release him are hidden. PLEASE.
But even without his release the pleasure you have given him in enduring your suffering and in your emotional release is in itself the source of his satisfaction.
And now for that dinner you demanded. I have cheated and ordered a takeaway that should arrive at any moment. But you will be staying where you are, and as you are, to be fed by me as and when I see fit.
Rope Lover
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