I think it was in October 2017 when I went to Chet’s house. We hadn’t seen each other for a while and I was looking forward to spending some time with him.
It was mid-afternoon when I arrived and before getting out of the car I checked my makeup and ran my fingers through my hair (not that it did much good) and as usual whenever I see Chet I wore an ice blue bra and panties set as well as a matching garter belt and black stockings. Instead of a skirt and blouse I went with a fairly loose fitting little black dress that, with the belt, came to just about 3” above my knees and, of course, I wore the required 3” ankle strap heels (he would prefer 4” or even 5” but there is no way I can drive with them).
Chet lives in a nice neighborhood in Tampa and after grabbing my rather large tote (I brought a change of clothes, my 4” heels and my makeup etc.), I headed for his door.
I’m always a little nervous when I see him (he is the most cruel/sadistic person I see) so it wasn’t unusual that I felt sort of antsy and shuffled my feet a bit while waiting for him to open the door. Then, surprise, instead of opening the front door I heard his garage door open and when he stepped out he waved and with his finger motioned for me to come inside that way.
Still nervous (he just does that to me) I walked as quickly as I could and after he gave me a hug and kissed me (but not his usual deep throat kiss that sends chills down my spine) he gently pulled me into the garage and as the garage door closed behind us he stopped a few feet inside and, taking me in his arms again, kissed me but this time worked that magic tongue of his, tasting me, making me melt with desire and with my eyes closed (that probably sounds so cliché). I held him tight and began moving my puss against him.I didn’t care if I was on his thigh or his cock, I just needed to grind myself against him. My nipples, now just about fully engorged, reacted as though they were on fire when one of his hands squeezed one of them. I moaned, said “yes yes“ (between my swallowing his tongue) and nearly lost it when his hand went between my legs (after he lifted my dress) and played with my puss through my panties. Pulling his lips away from mine he had his all too familiar devilish gleam in his eyes and just when I was going to try to kiss him again he turned me around and gently pushed me towards a workbench at the back of the garage. “What?”, was all I could say as I looked at the bench. On it was a lot of rope, chains and belts as well as other things that I saw quickly (tape, gags, rags and I even glanced at a few clamps and a bunch of other stuff I didn’t get a chance to look too closely at) because as soon as we got to the bench he turned me around and began tying my arms just above my elbows.
He knows my elbows do not touch but (as he always does) he pulled them so they were about 2” apart and as he wound the rope around my arms it made me feel not only helpless but very exposed and vulnerable. With my arms pulled back my breasts were forced forward. Yes, vulnerable is a very good word to describe how I feel when I am tied that way.
Still standing behind me, he put his arms around me and began massaging my breasts and as my nipples became even larger and harder. I just melted against him and when he pinched them through my clothes I shrieked and pushed myself into his hands. My legs started to quiver and I felt myself wriggling my ass against him, hoping my grinding would prompt him to reach lower and touch me more. Instead, he picked up another piece of rope and began wrapping it around my waist, leaving me frustratingly angry that he stopped touching me. I asked him to hold me, to make love to me, to take me but his response was to continue tying the rope, very tightly, around my waist, telling me to be quiet or he would leave me like that and make sure I would not have any chance of “relieving myself.”
Well, I’m not a rocket scientist but knowing Chet would do just that. I tried to settle down (still pressing my thighs together, which, by the way, he stopped me from doing by slapping my thigh rather hard) and, closing my eyes, I tried to stay still and I must have done pretty well because he didn’t slap me again. When he finished tying the rope on my waist he turned me and kissed me. Once again his tongue wound itself around mine and as he held me he even allowed me to grind my puss against him as best as I could. But all that accomplished was to make me even more frustrated and I needed him inside me so badly I was groaning and moaning and begging him to do “it”. Just “f__k” me, please…
Slapping my thigh again… it stung like hell but got my attention (it also made me hornier).
Why I am such a depraved slut when I am with Chet I have no idea. But when I am with him it’s like a sexual roller coaster wrapping itself around me.
Leaving me standing there for a few seconds he came back with some more rope, two pieces, and attached them to the waist rope on my sides. I thought he was going to tie a crotch rope (I certainly would have appreciated it) but instead he took one wrist at a time and tied each one to the waist rope and then tied the ends of each of those ropes together in front of me so that my arms could not be brought behind me and I could hardly move my hands to reach anything but air. And now I felt even more vulnerable and could feel my breasts, as small as they are, swelling and my nipples, now very large, were straining against my bra and blouse and I could see them trying to poke holes in them. Chet did too and gleefully took them between his fingers and twisted and pulled, making me hop while he led me on a short painful sort of trot around the garage. I pleaded with him to stop but his only reply was to tell me I needed to be punished and if I wanted him to stop I only had to say “the word.”
Both of us knew I wouldn’t do that and so, after a few minutes of making me prance like a desperate animal in heat, he stopped and told me to stand still.
I watched him go back to the workbench and saw him pick up more rope. As he walked back to me his smile was almost infectious and I wanted him more then than I did a few minutes ago when he was torturing my nipples.
I have no idea how much rope he used but it seemed to be quite a lot as he wrapped (I think) 4 long pieces around the back of my neck and then down between my arms and back and then below and above my breasts. They were as tight as he could make them and I felt them squeezing my chest which also caused my nipples to rub against my bra and create even greater sensations of hunger. Again begged him to just “take me” (not exactly the words I used but sometimes I don’t feel like typing f__k).
Ignoring me he came back with a huge pair of scissors and the next thing I knew he cut the bodice of my dress (and bra) down to the waist rope and then cut the dress from the hem up to the waist rope. Then, with a sort of nasty giggle, he ripped my dress open leaving it hanging. It could not fall off me because of the ropes around my elbows and I guess the waist rope too so I stood there basically wearing only my panties, garter belt, stocking and heels.
I blush easily, sometimes too easily, and although I had been blushing for most of the time he’d been tying me and touching me and frustrating me I was now looking (in my mind’s eye) like a red moon glowing with perspiration and unfulfilled sexual needs, feeling myself getting wetter and more needy by the second. Once again I pleaded with him to just do it, make me come. Please, I begged him.
He told me that I looked good enough to eat and, of course, I told him to do it, eat me, make me come, but he laughed and said he had other plans for me and I yelled at him to just stop talking and (yes) F__K me!
There is one thing he does that makes me very upset and nervous. He sometimes replies with “Tsk, tsk, tsk” and from that I know there is much more to be done before he is satisfied and by that I mean his “sexually satisfied”. It does not mean that I will be “satisfied.”
Knowing it was useless I still pleaded with him and continued to try to press my thighs together hoping I would be able to come. My nipples, now fully extended and swollen could only touch the air so while they (greatly) contributed to my “needs” I could not use them to help me. They only made it worse.
He then took a rope from the bench and wound it through the ropes over the back of my neck as well as the ropes that were on my back that were wrapped above and below my breasts.
Still behind me he tossed the ends of the rope over a wooden beam in the garage and as he began pulling on it all the ropes around me became tighter and tighter and all I could think was that he was going to suspend me. I had never been suspended and while it frightened me to think that was what he was doing it excited me and I could feel myself becoming so tense and moist all I could do was imagine that I would come as soon as my feet left the ground.
As I braced myself to be lifted off the ground he stopped and tied the rope so that I was still standing, firmly, on the ground. Coming around to face me he put his arms around me, leaned forward, and kissed me. Then kept kissing me and nibbling my neck and down to my breasts. He sucked and nipped each nipple making me beg him (again) to make me come but his only response was to keep one of my nipples in his mouth while his hands worked themselves down to my panties and all too gently moved his fingers along the edges of my panties, but never touching my puss. I cried out and pleaded with him but it was no use. He stopped touching me and, after I finally was able to open my eyes, he giggled (yes, he actually giggled!) taking yet another short piece of rope he tied the ropes above and below my breasts together (between my breasts) and once he was satisfied it was tight enough I looked down and saw my (small) breasts now looked like swollen apples with their stems sticking out about in inch, and the more I panted, the more they seemed to grow; when he held them in his hands again it was heaven. “Please don’t stop touching me,” I begged.
When the bastard left me again I was able to twirl on my toes and watch him as he went to the corner of the garage and came back with a long wooden round stick (I’ve since learned it’s called a dowel) and hanging from holes on each end was more rope.
Kneeling in front of me he tied one end to my ankle and with some encouragement (he slapped my inner thigh - again) I spread my legs so he could tie the other ankle forcing me to stand with my legs 3 feet apart (he later told me it was 3 feet) and my feet, though not as comfortably as before the spreader bar, were still on the floor.
Standing again, he looked me in the eyes and began touching my nipples. They were so sensitive I thought I would be able to come just from his doing that to me and I started to push myself against his hands hoping I would be able to come that way and I as I started getting louder and louder he stopped, put his hand over my mouth, and told me I was making too much noise. The garage was not sound proof and he didn’t want to disturb the neighbors.
Disturb the neighbors! What about me! What about how much I’m disturbed! I screamed at him.
And again, I heard “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
I was told to calm down and he would make it easier for me to scream without upsetting the neighbors. I just looked at him and thought “what the “F” was he going to do to me now?
Again I followed him going to the bench but this time he kept himself between me and the bench so I couldn’t see what he picked up and when he walked back to me, smiling like an evil demon, he kept his hands behind his back until he was practically leaning against me. I didn’t even want to try to push myself to him, I was more worried about the “gift” he was giving me.
Bringing his hand up toward my mouth he held what looked like a large sponge that he was balling up in his hands and when he told me to open up I kept my mouth shut tight and shook my head no. I’ve seen this type of gag and I wanted nothing to do with it.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
Grabbing my nipple he squeezed so hard I opened my mouth to scream and when he shoved it into my mouth and let it go it filled my mouth completely, my cheeks we full, my tongue was pushed under it, and when he took the tape out of his pocket and wrapped it around my mouth and neck there was very little noise I could make. I made some guttural grunts but more noise seemed to come from my nose and as far as saying anything intelligible that was out of the question. I was gasping for breath but to my amazement I wasn’t suffocating. But the amount of noise I could make was very low and, very obviously, I would not disturb the neighbors.
Chet then said something like “see, I told you I’d make it easier for you to scream.”
And, to make a point of it, he took my nipples in his fingers, squeezed them, pulled them, twisted them and while I was “screaming” I knew no one, other than Chet, could hear me.
“Do you want me to stop?” I shook my head no.
He smiled and, taking the scissors again, cut my panties off. Touched them, told me how wet they were, smiled and tied them on my face so that the crotch was over my nose…
I stood there for quite some time. Moaning uselessly, trying to mouth mercy (which is not my safe word and I didn’t try to use my safe “hum” either). Breathing became a little easier and I could feel myself getting more and more excited, both mentally and sexually, then I had been all afternoon (I had no idea how long I was there at that point).
Suddenly I realized Chet was standing in front of me with a pair of clamps and while I tried to shake my head no he all too slowly put one on my right nipple, waited a few seconds as I screamed in pain and tried lifting my feet to escape but after I finally started to slow down he put the other one on my left nipple.
I screamed and screamed and screamed! I had never felt that much pain from clamps before. I danced like a marionette but could not escape the pain. My eyes pleaded with him. I almost lost my footing, I felt the pain go down to my tummy and then work its way to my puss. I needed the damn things taken off but I refused to give him the satisfaction. I hung, crying, and as gross as this probably sounds, snot was running out of my nose onto my chin and breasts. Humiliating as it was I was too “turned on” to stop it. I refused to give him the pleasure of making me stop him. I didn’t want it to stop so I cried and dripped and needed him to put his cock inside me.
When I was finally calm enough to “hear” him, he told me the small clamps on my nipples are used to keep wood together when they are being glued, generally for wooden models and that’s why they are so much tighter than anything I had experienced before. And, to demonstrate further, he pulled on them and they would not come off while I just screamed and froze in pain from the demonstration.
My legs ached from the pain, my arms ached, my puss ached (and to this day they are the most painful clamps I have ever worn).
Now, when I finally calmed down again Chet was standing in front of me with some rope that was folded several times, you know, wrapped as though it was going to be put away, however, instead of putting it away he started swinging it and even swatted the palm of his hand with it. Then, smiling, he walked behind me. I heard it moving through the air, its purpose very obvious, and when it struck me for the first on my upper back its sting made me jump and writhe. Several more times he hit me on my upper back and then concentrated on my ass. I could feel the welts beginning to rise. I could feel the heat of the whipping and every time I moved the clamps bounced up and down and my nipples exploded in agony. Yet, for some dumb reason that I can’t explain, I didn’t use my safety. I was tempted but refused. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
He stopped for a few minutes and I sort of hung from the rafter. Exhausted and hurting beyond anything I had ever experienced but inside myself I felt happy. I was happy I “defeated” Chet. Yes, I had been whipped, clamped, my sexual needs were smoldering like an infernal fire, but “I beat him”.
When I focused again Chet was standing in front of me and he was smiling. I suddenly had a sickening feeling and before I could even think of voicing “no, no, no not that” I watched, almost in slow motion, as the rope arched itself towards my puss and when it struck I nearly collapsed from the pain. My legs were too weak for me to stand. I flopped like a fish out of water. And when the rope came again it hit my clit, it was like being struck by lightning, and when I saw him slowly bring it back again for another shot at my puss I yelled my safe word (hum) as loud and as long as I could. Even when he tossed the rope on the floor and untied me from the ceiling I kept trying to use my safety. I was crying non-stop. I was shaking uncontrollably. After putting me on my tummy he cut the ropes from my arms, hands and ankles. He knelt next to me, helped me to sit up, and as quickly as he could undid the tape and took the gag out of my mouth.
I reached for him, I hugged him and didn’t want to let him go. He stroked my back and kissed my cheeks. He wiped away some of my tears (and the snot – ugh!). I asked him not to let me go. Just hold me. Finally, when I was able to sit without shaking, I peeled my dress and stockings off and pushed my heels away from me. I didn’t even realize I still had the garter belt on.
Now, to paraphrase the exchange we had then, “if I did too much to you and you want to stop and go home…” but before he could finish I told him “no, I don’t want to stop, but I need to take a short break and then I needed him to do whatever he wanted to me”.
I was then bear hugged (gently) and fondled and, yes, becoming excited, but I knew I had to get off the floor and clean myself up. Chet, helping me onto my feet, picked me up and carried me to the bathroom and after filling the tub with wonderfully warm perfumed bubbly water left me to heal a bit before we continued, with one final warning, I was not to masturbate because if I did he would send me home.
After my bath I put on a robe that was hanging on the door and, seeing it was about 7:30 PM (I guessed I was tied up for about 3 hours) I brushed my hair and went to the kitchen.
Chet was sitting at the table reading the newspaper, I poured myself a cup of coffee (I rarely have anything other than water) and sat in the chair next to him. Thinking we had the whole night ahead of us I got off the chair, crawled under the table, felt how hard he was, unzipped the monster, and instead of coffee had something else to drink.
When Chet finished I wiped him as clean as I could with my mouth and tongue and as he stroked my hair I looked up at him, smiled, and asked if I could sleep over…
liz