Part 2: The Playdate
Hello, all! It’s me again, Lindsay. If you haven’t already, I strongly recommend you read my earlier story for all the pertinent background on my fetish and sex life, as I explain most of the circumstances and history behind our bondage play. Once again, I give Gromet permission to post my email address as “linnndsay” (with 3 “n”s) at hotmail dot com, but I’m not going to use a direct link.
This time, I’d like to share a story about one particular play session between my boyfriend and I that stands out in my mind as one of the most memorable. For both the best and worst reasons!
As I mentioned, one of our favorite play activities was for him to rope me up nude, gag me tightly, and pretend-ignore me as I squirmed and struggled and “mmpphh-ed” erotically on the bed for his (and my own) enjoyment. Oftentimes, after I’d been writhing against my bonds for a while and making a lot of noise around my gag, he’d stuff a vibrating toy (or two) inside me, ostensibly to “shut his little bondage pet up.” The real reason, naturally, was that this was all part of the play. But one of my favorite things about this type of play that I never specifically told him was when he would do this, and then go do something else in another room for a few minutes, and leave me alone to my helplessness.
Call me crazy, but I’ve always found being left alone while bound and gagged a massive turn-on for some reason – maybe it’s just the chance to simply revel in one’s feeling of helplessness? maybe it’s the utter sense of being completely, totally helpless, your fate entirely in someone else’s hands? – and it always got me so damned hot whenever he would rope me up nice-’n'-tight, gag me (usually stuffing my own panties in my mouth then tightly sealing my lips with several strips of duct tape, but occasionally nestling my ballgag snugly between my teeth and tightly buckling it in place), then go off to do something else in the house. It got me especially hot-and-bothered when he left me with a toy!
I remember one time screaming so loudly and uncontrollably into my gag as I came that one of the neighbors’ dogs started howling! After I heard this, and my brain finally registered the sound and its significance, I could feel myself turn bright red from embarrassment as only a pale redhead can. I was absolutely mortified that someone could have heard me climaxing loudly into my gag, but the thought secretly turned me on – which only embarrassed me further. Nude, blushing from head-to-toe, and consciously trying to be as quiet as possible, I thrashed around all the more urgently out of humiliation to get free. Which, again, just excited me all the more, and I hit my climax for a second (albeit quieter) time! I sure am glad ladies are multi-orgasmic creatures!
Before you ask, no, he never actually left me alone for more than about 10 minutes at a time, and was never more than 10 yards or so away a room or two over. He was obviously concerned for my safety, as I’d expect.
But this one particular time he did this sticks out in my mind for a variety of reasons that will soon become obvious. He stopped over at my house shortly after we got out of school on Friday afternoon, and brought me over to his (recall in the previous story about us having the run of the entire house for pretty much the whole afternoon and evening). We usually played either in his bedroom or the family room across the hall during the afternoons, but we played all over the house at one point or another – on one particularly nervous occasion, he roped and gagged me nude on the couch in the living room just inside the front door, but it was extremely thrilling! This specific time, he herded me into his bedroom, and we immediately started making out and getting hot-and-bothered with some “heavy petting.” Before we got much further (and before he stripped me of any of my clothes), he roped my wrists and ankles, and left me on his bed with a command of “Don’t go anywhere” (not that I could). I purred a “Yes, Master” in reply, and he smiled as he left the room and closed the door behind him.
I couldn’t tell where he went or how long he was out, but I took delight in squirming and struggling for a few minutes while he was gone. When he came back, he wordlessly picked me up in both arms and carried me like a new bride crossing the threshold to the family room, where he’d opened-up the king-size sleeper sofa for me to roll around on. I was gently laid down on the bare mattress pad next to a roll of duct tape and a small pile of ropes, then progressively stripped of my sexy little schoolgirl outfit to the extent my ropes allowed. Once I was nude, he bound me much more seriously and removed my remaining errant clothing as I mock-protested and whimpered and complained seductively.
Finally, once I was securely bound wrists; ankles; legs both above- and below-the-knees; and a chest harness, and completely nude, he picked up the roll of duct tape that had been sitting on the mattress pad next to us along with the heaps of nylon ropes now holding me helplessly in their grasp.
“I’m tired of hearing you complain. You’re going to have to be silenced.”
I again pretend-protested between aroused gasps (my voice breaking in excitement):
“Oh, please don’t… [whimper, struggle] I’ll do anything you say…Anythaaghmph!”
He stuffed my mouth with my panties as I cried-out in fake-protest and pressed at least 4 or 5 strips of really nice, fresh, strong duct tape over my mouth, gagging me tightly and effectively. With each strip being pressed to my lips, I could feel my excitement ratchet up a level, until I was almost to my threshold. I moaned into my gag as I struggled, and swooned from the intense arousal of being his helpless, naked sex toy. I found him cupping my gagged face in one hand (which got me even more intensely aroused and sent me over into my “sub-space”) as he fiddled with something out of my sight in his other. I shut my eyes in erotic delight and didn’t see or really hear what he was saying or doing as I drifted into sub-space, but when I opened my eyes a few moments later and my mind started registering my surroundings once more, I found he had started a porno movie on the TV across from my little “perch” on the bare mattress.
I was more than just moderately annoyed that he’d be watching porn when he had a real-life nude girl sex toy (helplessly bound and gagged, no less) right there to play with – namely, me. With the sobering irritation, I momentarily came out of my reverie, and started giving him an irritated earful (which I’m sure sounded hilarious, adorable, hot, or all 3) despite the tape silencing me. It took me a few long moments, however, to figure out that he wasn’t paying attention to me and my gagged grumblings because he was gathering his things up and was making to leave.
My frustration and surprise must have shown on my gagged face (or maybe I made some other kind of noise) because he chuckled and told me he knew how much I loved being left alone while bound and gagged, which surprised me all the more. In fact, in retrospect, I suppose “stunned” would be a better word, since I’d never told him this. In response, I felt myself blushing tremendously and getting even more aroused than I had been before my brief, interrupted foray into sub-space, even hotter than I’d ever been from the idea of being left alone. I whimpered in embarrassment behind my gag and broke his gaze, ashamed. He came back over to me and kissed me passionately through my gag; by now I was sopping wet, and this wasn’t helping!
“It’s alright, kitten, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
I blushed even harder. He called me kitten! I LOVE it when he calls me kitten! I tried to share this with him through the tape muzzling this little sex kitten, but only produced incomprehensible mumbling. It made me felt extremely liberated (more than just a bit ironic, considering I was helplessly roped and silenced) and sexy, both to know that he was aware of this not-so-secret fantasy of mine and wanted to share in it, and that he called me kitten. All girls love to be made to feel sexy, and it felt really good to feel like a sex kitten in his ropes. I squirmed in self-satisfaction and smiled behind my gag as I giggled happily. Turning on the charm, I mugged for attention with my gagged face and breasts (shaking them for his viewing pleasure), hoping I could get him to touch me. I meowed and purred as seductively as the tape sealing my mouth would allow, moaning in delight and making every suggestive feline sound I could imagine.
But it was no use; he cupped one of my breasts and fondled it lightly, but nevertheless got up to leave. He said he was going to “go run a few errands,” but would be back before I knew it. I shook my head frantically; moaned and protested as loudly as I could, gagged as effectively as I was (all that came out was a muffled string of soft alto mewling, the sound of which coming from me only getting me hotter); and squirmed for all I was worth. This time I really didn’t want him to go, but he ignored my struggling and gagged pleading. He smiled as he turned his back and closed the door behind him, and I let loose in my frustration, thrashing against my bonds and screaming into my gag as mightily as I could.
I wriggled my wrists around as much as I could against the ropes binding them tightly together, hoping for a slight bit of slack or a knot that I could get to with my fingers. I moaned desperately into the tape tightly pressing against my sealed lips, calling to him to come back, hoping he would change his mind and return. But his ropes held tight and firm, my gag entirely secure. My mouth was tightly sealed with no way of calling for help – and, really, no one to hear me – and my wrists were simply too tightly- and well-tied to give me any hope for release. There was no way I could reach the knots or get free without (his) help. I was his completely, helplessly bound and gagged captive, and it got me so incredibly hot.
Once this realization struck home, I gradually ratcheted down my frantic struggling – mostly because I was getting tired – and futile efforts to get free. My muffled cries for help and ferocious thrashing against my ropes gave way to weary moaning, panting, and sporadic tentative squirming in my bonds as I started to accept my situation. I was his – completely helpless – until he came back and decided to set me free or somebody else found me. This second option obviously terrified me, but a part of me secretly thrilled at the danger and humiliation of being discovered in bondage. Either way, I tried not to think about it too much, trusting him to come back and free (or at least be able to hide) me before anyone else did. Defeated, tired, and broken like a wild pony, my attention eventually shifted to the movie he’d left on.
I now realize it was relatively typical porno fare, but it was completely new to me at the time. An innocent-looking (riiiiight…) little blond girl in pink dress, white thigh-highs (with welts clearly visible below the short hem of the dress), and either white or pink heels was put in a position where she had to have sex with a middle-aged guy (possibly the stepfather, but I really have no idea) in jeans and a flannel shirt to stay out of some kind of trouble – you know how porno plots go. But despite myself, despite the worry about being discovered like this – naked, bound, and gagged – I actually found myself getting excited by it. It got me fairly hot to imagine myself as the sexy little girl being taken by the powerful man. I found myself thrusting my naked, wet pussy lips into the bed beneath me as I yearned for release, this time of a sexual nature. I was starting to get into a rhythm with my “bed-humping,” and closed my eyes to focus on pleasing myself. I must have tuned out the sounds coming from the movie after a while, because when I opened my eyes, I noticed the screen was now showing a bondage video!
I didn’t know much about porn back then, but even then I figured it would be unusual to pair such conventional soft-core material with something as relatively kinky as bondage. I suspected this tape was a “custom edit,” and this scene was the one chosen to immediately follow the previous one. This new scene had a little redheaded girl about my size (but with much smaller breasts) standing with her wrists bound together above her head as a middle-aged man teased her and toyed with her! My eyes went wider than pizzas, and I got even more into it now that I was seeing something both that I liked and with which I could directly, specifically, immediately identify. As I continued to hump the bed, I began to re-enter my sub-space, and that’s when the real fun began.
I imagined being rolled-over onto my back, my arms completely helplessly bound together beneath me and useless, being straddled, and taken hungrily. I moaned into my gag in intense arousal, my impending orgasm building steam as my body trembled with its embrace. I thrashed around against my ropes solely to feel them binding me and savor the sensation, reveling in my helplessness. I could feel my imaginary captor’s hands on my breasts and moist, naked sex, and it felt so wonderful! I squirmed and moaned in delight as I imagined his fingers move inside me and start teasing my clit as he kissed my neck just the way I love. I moaned and begged him to take me through my gag, and could swear I felt him enter me…
It was around this time, though, that I noticed the “man” “ravishing” me felt more real than he should if he were only a fantasy. I opened my eyes to find my boyfriend inside me – right as my orgasm exploded. And what an orgasm it was! My surprise translated perfectly into intense emotional and physical arousal, and I came with a wave of pleasure that washed over me like an ocean wave – large and intense, yet gentle and overwhelmingly pleasant – moaning long and slow to its tune and quivering like a ferret. As the climactic wave slowly washed away and dried up, I looked up at him with a barely-blinking stare that was a mixture of the adoration of a satisfied lover and that same angry look all girls give their guys right after they’ve done something to piss them off. He just laughed and dismounted me to go clean off while I lay there in the afterglow, continuing to struggle happily.
He eventually did release me (which, by then, was a bit of a close call on being discovered, but that’s another story), but not before he’d had his way with me again, pleased me orally, and then gently and lovingly rubbing me down with a damp washcloth like I was a spent racehorse being bathed before being sent back to the stables. While still tightly roped and gagged. The kinky-yet-not-overtly-sexual attention of the washing felt really good as a form of aftercare (I’ve sometimes heard the term “postplay” to refer to something like foreplay that occurs after sex). I guess it was his way of making it up to me for the initial panic he’d given me when he “left.”
As it turns out, however, he’d never actually left the hallway outside the room. He stood there just outside the whole time, watching and listening with the door left open a crack, getting-off on my sexy struggling and waiting for just the right time to jump back in. He could tell when I was starting to lose myself in fantasy (he’s irritatingly good at that), and chose that moment to make his move. I’m glad I could put on a good show for him – the thought of being able to do so makes me feel incredibly sexy – and I’m equally glad I got to reap the rewards of it when I did!
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25.04.12
story continues in Confessions of a Teenage Bondage Slut 3: Prom Night
o0o