Our sex life has always been exciting and fulfilling. We experimented right from the start. I found a natural dominance which matched her need to submit. We craved each other like a drug. Every second apart was spent fantasising of the other and what we would do next. Through it all ran a thread of passion, intensity. We were like panting wolves devouring one another. One look from me would make her wet as I pushed her against the wall, a growl low in my throat, my thick cock, hard and bulging pressing against her. The sight of her eyes as she moistened, struggling to avert from my gaze was an aphrodisiac in itself.
We talked. We shared everything. We bared our souls night after night, sated and spent in each other’s arms.
And one night, just as the light began in the east, she told me something that came as a total surprise.
“Sometimes…” she began, wistfulness in her sweet, melodic voice. She stopped, unsure and I sat up a little wondering what was coming. I looked at her quizzically.
“Sometimes what, darling?”
“Sometimes….. sometimes I wonder what it might be like to be in control.”
“Control?”
“You know… control. Control of you. In charge.”
It was a huge surprise, to say the least. She’d never indicated any desire or urge in this direction at all.
I could feel her holding her breath at my side, curled naked against me. Still too dark to see her eyes in the pre-dawn. I considered her words. The sudden, urgent rising and hardening at my groin was answer enough. It felt right; it felt like the simple answer to an unasked question somehow.
She felt it too and her hand closed around my hardening shaft. Her grip tightened and she purred as I shifted uncomfortably. My breathing quickened, shallow and panicky as my self control unravelled with alarmingly speed. Perhaps it was just a combination of the right move at the right moment but I was eager suddenly to explore this new feeling.
“Darling..” I began, my voice hoarse and rasping.
“Quiet” she ordered, “I don’t want to hear a word from you”.
She sat up, allowing me to sprawl back suddenly. Her demeanour had changed already. It was as if she had been planning this. She sat up on her heels, naked and proud, daring me to look at her nakedness. Her eyes were cool, clear. She held herself taut. Her body was as beautiful as ever but now somehow different. She was almost like a different person. Of course she had the same long dark hair and chestnut eyes. The early light was silvery on her skin, highlighting her lush curves, her softness. The dissonance between the same features and figure animated differently was both alluring and disturbing at the same time.
She reached down, elegant and graceful as ever but with purpose written anew in the lines of her body. She picked up her discarded blindfold from where it lay under the edge of the rumpled sheets and reaching further under the bed she withdrew the roll of shiny black bondage tape.
I love binding her. To see the way her helplessness makes her so aroused yet so unable to satisfy her desires turns me on the most perhaps of anything we do. My cock throbbed, achingly hard beneath the sheet draping my lower body.
She used a fingernail to unpick the end of the tape and sat down cross-legged in front of me.
She smiled cruelly as she snagged the blindfold over my head and pulled it down over my eyes, adjusting it to effectively blind me. I was left in silence, my shaft sticking up and out, my heart pounding, my breathing shallow, reduced so quickly to be hers. The feeling was exhilarating, incredible, so sudden was this change and how unexpected. It occurred to me to question whether, even now we would ever be able to return to the way things had been just half an hour ago.
I was pleased in a way that she had ordered me to silence, because I wanted to babble, to declare my love for her over and over, to tell her I was hers. I was overwhelmed and the blindfold calmed me somewhat.
The silence lengthened, extended for an eternity before her fingertips touched the bulging head of my cock through the thin cotton of the sheet, making me jump and shiver. It expanded further, feeling as though it would burst even to her slightest touch. I sat up straighter.
Her fingers withdrew and I groaned a little, my groin rising of it's own accord to seek her.
I could hear her tutting at that and she pressed something to my closed lips. It was the tape and she held it there for a second as she wound it round my head then again and again, each turn tighter, her new found confidence manifest in each turn. My mouth was sealed, the pressure on my sensitised lips, exquisite, intoxicating. I moaned again, my head swirling.
“That's better” she muttered, almost as if to herself.
I could feel her rise from the bed and she took me by the shoulder.
“Okay boy, get up” she instructed, even her voice had that disconcerting mixture of new and familiar. An iciness had insinuated itself there, a sense of dominance, assurance, possession.
“Stand still”
I did as asked, feeling weak as a day old kitten in her hands. My cock bobbed about uselessly at my groin, heavy, thick, engorged. She took my hands and pulled them behind me before winding the tape round my crossed wrists several times. I sensed her stand back and tested the bind. I was surprised at it's strength. I could not move my hands apart at all. I had used the bondage tape on her hundreds of times and had never suspected it's efficacy. Now I was bound with it and realising just how helpless I was.
Her hand gripped my cock, fingers closing tight around it and pulling me forward, blindly. I sensed her opening a door in front of me as she held tight to me. I moaned again, my voice, muffled and quiet. I crouched, awkwardly as she pulled me down, my knees bumping against the floor. I grunted a little, panic running through me. Submitting wasn't easy however attractive it might be. Giving up control was not a natural state and I fought to control myself. I suspected that this as much as anything was why she had bound me.
“Head down” she commanded from behind me. I groaned, the command I had issued so many times. I bent forward, bowing my head.
“On the ground”
I knelt forward trying to control my falling. Finally my forehead was pressed against the carpet. I could feel the cool morning air on my exposed rear, my balls hanging heavy and full. Normally as the denouement of the evening I would have her milk me and swallow my gift. Her suggestion had come before this and I remained physically unsatisfied. I smiled inwardly at her sense of timing.
“Such a horny boy aren't you?” she asked, pretty much a rhetorical question considering how tight the gag was.
I moaned an affirmative and unconsciously presented myself to her.
“Horny boys get punished” she said, her words running through me like an electric current. I could sense her doing something, behind and above me and then one of her hands was on my exposed bottom, snug in cool leather it caressed me, her ownership apparent in every stroke. It sought out my dangling balls, my cock, stone hard and making me shiver it pressed for a lingering second against my anus.
She chuckled as goosebumps spread across my thighs.
Then, she began to spank me.
A good spanking alternates between cruelty and sensuality and she had learned well at my hands how to administer one. The initial slaps were just to warm me up and to measure her own strength. They were sexy, fun almost but after around ten or so she paused.
“The next set will be hard, my precious boy”
And they were. She slapped me hard and unrelentingly, administering maybe thirty vicious, stinging blows. She paused then, leaving me gasping and panting, my cheeks prickling and burning from the spanking. Then she was kneeling at my shoulder, her voice in my ear.
“Good boy”
I shivered, excited to receive her merest compliment, and such an abased one at that! I was trembling with excitement by now. That made her smile. I could sense it somehow.
Then she was rising again, pulling me by the shoulder forward on my knees. I complied. What else could I do? Besides, I loved it. I loved how this made me feel. Even admitting this to myself was terrifying but liberating. I knew she could do anything with me, then. Anything she decided.
Heart racing, cock straining fit to burst I edged forward as she urged me. I suddenly realised that we were inside the small built in wardrobe of the bedroom. I paused but she just laughed. She pushed me down onto my side and I fell with a muffled 'oof'. With seemingly practised speed and assurance she taped my ankles together, then my knees. I was utterly helpless. Gagged, tied and blindfolded.
She patted my thigh, then reached further down to stroke the length of my bulging, straining erection, teasing, a promise of what might come later.
“I'm going out soon darling” she whispered, “there are things we need, things I want. Be a good boy until I get back and we'll see about looking after this!” She emphasised her words by gripping the root of my shaft, my balls tightly, almost hurting before releasing them.
Then she rose again and the door closed somewhere above and behind me. I lay quietly, meek and subservient, her naked, helpless captive as she busied herself around the bedroom. I could smell coffee percolating after a while then the shower running.
Still I was rock hard. My limbs cramped, my mouth dry beneath the tape, aching and uncomfortable but still hugely, shockingly aroused.
At some point the front door closed then there was just enforced silence and stillness and darkness.
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24.07.12
story continues in Shifting Roles Part 2
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