In the middle of the night I woke feeling that something was amiss. At fist I thought it was because I was in her bed instead of my own. As I became more fully awake I realized that it wasn’t her bed that had awakened me. This wasn’t the first time I had slept in Liz’s bed. It was warm and comfortable and smelled faintly of her. I could almost pick out the distinct slightly flowery smell of her soap, her shampoo and her body lotion. I smiled as I realized how familiar and comforting her smell was to me.
No, it wasn’t her bed that had awakened me. As conciousness returned I realized that the space next to me was empty. I had been awakened by her absence, by the lack of that warm lovely body lying next to me. I forced my eyes open and looked around the room.
There she was kneeling, nude, in front of the open bedroom window. What a magnificent sight she was. Liz knelt with her back upright, her knees spread and her head held high. The pose emphasized the beauty of her body. She had broad shoulders, swimmer’s shoulders. Her body though tanned and fit appeared pale and almost ghostly in the moonlight. I admired the taper of her back, the narrow waist, the swell of her hips, the long graceful column of her neck. Was it any wonder I loved this strong fiercly independent woman? I delighted in her company, her thoughts, her smile and reveled in her willingness to submit to me. Was ever a dom so graced as I?
So intent was her concentration that Liz seemed unaware that I had woken and was sitting upright in bed looking at her in the moonlight. I had seen her do this before and at times listened to her describe that which she sensed and saw. Never did I feel more aware of the sky and land than when I was with her. In the moonlight she was barely more than a shadow but one which I was compelled both to stare at and to embrace.
I dragged the quilt with me as the desire to embrace Liz won out over my desire to continue as a voyeur. There was something ethereal about her at such moments and being part of that was overwhelmingly desirable. In a single motion I set the quilt about my shoulders and enveloped her from behind with my warmth.
As I draped my body against her now cool flesh, Liz shivered and sighed happily. She had heard my last second movements and waited for the warmth she hoped would come. She felt my chest press against her back, my legs fold and thighs press against the outside of hers, my arms around her waist, my head alongside hers with my chin resting gently on her shoulder, my eyes sharing the view.
Liz took my left hand and guided it up across her chest to rest my fingertips at the base of her throat and upon her collar bone. My forearm lay warm between her breasts as she ran the fingers of her hand along its length. She took my other hand with her free hand and pressed it against her diaphragm where the ebb and flow of her breathing could be felt.
This was a position in which her late husband had held her and I was always a bit ambivalent about it. I loved the warm contact of her body and the gentle movement of her heart and diaphragm. It was a comforting position and I could have held her that way for hours. At the same time I was conscious that it was an imitation of what another man had done with her. I always felt slightly disturbed that my pleasure, my joy at having Liz was possible only because of the pain of her loss.
I pressed my arms around her pulling us slightly tighter and luxuriated in the feeling of this very special woman. I could feel her breathe and as she did her back moved slightly rubbing the encircling strands of the rope bra against my chest. It reminded me that this free spirit was still in my ropes fulfilling my desires, but by her choice. I was, I reflected, a very lucky man to have Liz in my life.
I rose, lifting her with me, and brought us back to the bed. I twisted about a bit to ensure that we were both enveloped in the warm bedclothes. We lay side by side with her body slightly over my side. Her weight, her warmth, her presence soothed me. I stroked her hair as I felt her body relax and fall asleep. Then I drifted back into dreamless slumber. My last thought was that as comfortable as we were with each other, neither of us had said a word.
I woke up in the morning with the warmth of the sun streaming through Liz’s bedroom window. As I regained consciousness I realized that I still held her in my arm, pressed to my side and chest. I thought back to what had happened in the middle of the night, the soft cold air and her warmth. It was dreamlike in my memory, a marvelous fantasy but I knew it had happened and I had lived a fantasy such as most men never even dreamed. I enjoyed the sensation of feeling her body and her soft breathing for a moment or two and then opened an eye to find Liz, fully awake, looking at me. I don’t know how long she had been awake but it was clear she was deep in thought contemplating something. She noted my open eyes and gave me one of her heart melting smiles with one corner of her mouth slightly higher than the other. Liz said, "Good morning."
"Good morning, gorgeous," I replied. "Bathroom," I then grunted, somewhat unromantically, as I slid out from under her and headed across the room.
Liz joined me and grabbed her toothbrush as I urinated. After a few minutes, I flushed and we switched places. I swabbed the motorman’s glove out of my mouth and ran my razor across my face, smiling as I remembered where that razor had last been employed to remove her pubic hair. As we finished our morning ablutions I couldn’t help thinking of how comfortable we had become with each other. Romping about nude in bed is one thing, but sharing a bathroom while performing necessary bodily functions is probably a tougher test of intimacy.
Liz finished and asked if I wanted breakfast. I looked at her, lovely in the morning light and felt a twitch of raw lust. "I have a different sort of hunger this morning," I told her as I guided her back towards the bed. "I think a certain lovely sub offered to straddle me this morning," I reminded her.
As I talked I looped a rope just above her elbows and drew them towards each other behind her back. When I felt tight resistance I tied off the rope but didn’t bother to cinch it as I was certain it would become tighter over time. While I waited for her shoulders and upper arms to adjust I used a second rope to tie her wrists together in the classic palm to palm tie. I carefully cinched this tie and made certain that the knots were well out of reach of her fingers.
We both knew that Liz didn’t really want to escape but she was a strong and independent woman. If I was sloppy and failed to properly secure her she would work herself free. And if she managed to get free she would be ticked off. It was simply her nature to require that the ropes be well placed and firmly tied. Liz was willing to submit, but only to a man who could hold her and who could take her to her sub space.
I went back to her elbows and untied the ropes drawing them tighter and pulling her elbows to within perhaps three inches of each other. I tied off the rope and debated cinching it off. "Shall I give you a few minutes to adjust, or is this as far as we are going to get this morning?" I asked.
"Give me a minute, please," she said.
I was behind Liz and couldn’t see her face but her voice told me that she was smiling at the thought of getting her elbows to touch. Having a few moments to spare I slipped my arms around her and cupped her breasts in my palms using my thumbs to stroke across their curves. Liz, playful minx that she is, took the opportunity to fondle my penis arousing me even further. I didn’t mind it a bit. One of the great joys of being with this woman is that, while Liz is willing to be submissive, she is never passive.
I brought my lips to her neck and kissed her neck and shoulders. After a bit I worked my lips up the length of her neck to an ear lobe murmuring "so lovely." I kissed and tugged at her ear lobe with my lips. Liz moaned appreciatively and indicated her readiness to proceed by rolling her shoulders a bit. I returned to her elbow tie and worked it tighter until her elbows actually touched. I cinched the tie and took the ends of the rope down to loop around the lines of the rope bra she still wore. I tightened these ropes welding her elbows to her back further limiting her arm movements.
I helped Liz climb on to the bed in a kneeling position and then lay down on my back beside her. She carefully swung one leg over me so that she was straddling me and then shuffled down to the correct position.
Liz lifted herself and I held my penis as she slowly lowered herself capturing me within her. She began to rise and fall slowly. At first I rolled my hips up to meet her descent but she asked, "Please. Lie still and let me do it all for you."
Well, she did say please. It would have been impolite to refuse. I smiled and lifted my hands over my head and grasped the slats of the head board as though my wrists had been tied in place. Liz smiled at my response and began to lift and lower herself very, very slowly. Have I mentioned that when Liz smiles one side of her mouth lifts higher than the other? It gives her a wickedly playful look and is breathtakingly beautiful. Yes, I know beauty comes from within and isn’t just surface looks. In Liz’s case, however, the beauty is all there coming from her wit, her charm, her personality, her generosity, even her wickedness. It is just that when she gives me that smile, all of her true inner beauty seems to shine through the surface attractiveness and she melts my heart.
I was surprised when I fell in love with Liz. I had always thought that short women with generous curves and long dark hair were my ‘type’ of woman. Liz was taller, with short blond hair and a fit trim athletic body. Oh, she had all the right curves. It was just that I would never have imagined that sort of woman as capturing my head and heart, arousing me as Liz did. It was just after our first conversations that I realized this woman had, by just being who she was, seduced me beyond all reason.
Well, I digress. That happens a lot when my lovely sub smiles at me. In any case Liz was rising and falling slowly while watching me intently. I felt a familiar tightening and then... nothing. Liz had stopped all motion. To this day, I don’t know what she saw that told her I was about to explode. I don’t think I moaned or wagged my head from side to side. I didn’t think that I gave off any sign at all. Whatever it was, Liz understood every nuance of me and had timed it perfectly. I think her ability to see parts of me that I didn’t even know existed is a large part of the reason she captivates me so. In any case, she waited several eternities while my body came back from the edge and then she resumed her slow stroking. OK, it was only a few seconds, but it felt like several eternities.
And she did it again, and then again. Now my beautiful sub was bound before me but she was in complete control and using it to tease me unmercifully. I could have stopped it, of course, but it was so delicious that I didn’t, perhaps couldn’t, move. It was agony, of course, but an agony that was also an ecstasy. I don’t know how many times she did this. It was at least three that I counted but then I think my conscious brain had shut down and all attention was focused on the feelings emanating from my groin and the beautiful submissive woman before me.
Still I recognized that this she was once again my submissive with my ropes restraining her. Her teasing was warm and wonderful and yet I would have to devise some way, equally devious and nasty, to repay her for teasing me.
Eventually I could take no more and as she rose I brought my hands down. With one hand I grasped a nipple and gently rolled and tugged. With the other I fingered her slit flicking my finger over her clitoris. My manipulations broke her rhythm and she began to stroke harder and faster until I climaxed within her.
Liz collapsed onto me and I realized that, with the help of my hands, she had managed to work herself to orgasm. She was fully on top of me from our groins to our necks but the weight felt comfortable and right. Her breasts pressed against my chest and I could feel them move slightly as we each took a breath. She dipped her head and kissed me with a surprising intensity, given what I thought was our mutually exhausted state. As we lay there I reached around and began to unfasten her elbows, then her wrists and then the rope bra that she had worn for so long. As I worked on the ropes, I shriveled and slipped out of her and she rolled onto her back next to me.
We were both exhausted but as I lay there I thought about what had transpired. My sub had teased me, perhaps hoping to provoke a spanking to help her along towards the sub space she so enjoyed. That would have been fun but there are other ways both to punish and to move her along and I do hate to be predictable. Aha, I think I have devised a way to both punish her and give her what, at least most of what, she wants.
I took her from the bed and fastened wrist cuffs and a spreader bar to her. I told her that she had been a tease and I was planning to punish her. She gave me one of those ‘here we go again looks’ thinking, I am certain, that I was planning to repeat last night’s spanking. She was puzzled, however, and gave me an inquiring look as I fastened the spreader bar to a rope through a hook from the ceiling. My imp knew better than to ask too many questions when I was in this sort of mood but watched as I led the rope to the far side of the room and pulled until her arms were stretched above her. I tied off the rope leaving her stretched tightly.
At that point I turned her towards the dresser so she could see herself in the mirror as I continued to bind her. I used another pair of cuffs around her ankles and stretched her legs wide, which also put more of her weight on her arms. One ankle was tied off to the bed that was heavy enough so that she wouldn’t be able to move it, even with her strong well-toned (and rather shapely) legs. The other pieces of furniture were either too light or in the wrong place for her other ankle.
Inspiration struck and I put a second spreader bar across the doorway outside the room. It only took a moment to run the rope from her second ankle around the bar and to stretch her into a standing spread eagle.
I grabbed a whiffle ball gag and approached her. I like this sort of gag. It fills her mouth and presses down on her tongue, but allows air to pass freely so that there is no need to worry about breathing problems. It also, of course, allows her to make plenty of sounds, but intelligible speech is impossible, making it very frustrating for her. With all the holes, the embarrassing drooling that normally accompanies ball gags seems to be even more prevalent.
My lovely sub was feisty and clamped her jaws shut. I ran my tongue along her lips sliding under her upper lip and running across her teeth and upper gum while pressing my lips to hers. I felt her relax as she enjoyed the kiss so I reached up and got a grip on her jaw, pulling down and pressing her cheeks in against her teeth before she firmed up again. Good, I had her mouth open and inserted the gag and fastened the straps behind her head. I could have pinched her nose and waited or forced a scream by twisting a nipple but that isn't really the gentle loving style we so enjoy.
Oh yes, I said we enjoy. Perhaps I should explain. Liz isn’t really mine. She is a strong willed, feisty, independent professional woman who stands on her own two feet (well, usually) and who has told me that no man will ever own her. She also enjoys submitting to the right man and at the moment I am that lucky guy. In truth I think I am more her dom than she is my submissive, but the distinction blurs when we play together. In any case, while she bears the brunt of my devious mind, I am always (well almost always) trying to ensure that it is for our mutual enjoyment.
"Today, the punishment for teasing is to be teased," I said; and proceeded to insert earplugs into each of her ears. These are the soft type that you roll small and slip into the ears. Once in they expand to effectively block sound. They don’t come out but, more to give her a visual picture than to hold them, I secured them with an ace bandage. It was wrapped over the bridge of her nose, down across her ears (flattening them against the side of her head) around below the curve of her skull and then back up the other side. Having used the bandage I then secured it with duct tape over the bandage being careful not to catch her hair in the wraps. The lovely sub frowned. She knew that when I used duct tape it was because whatever I was planning would take a long time.
Having allowed her to see and understand the ace bandage and duct tape, it was time to repeat the process with her eyes. I carefully covered each of her eyes with a cotton gauze pad and held them with another ace bandage. A few turns of duct tape and my imp had lost sight as well as hearing. Time for the punishment to begin.
I began with a gentle stroke of my fingertips down the underside of her arm to circle her breast and eventually stroke her nipple. I don’t know why this is such a turn on for Liz but I know it is one of her triggers. When I gently stroke her this way it arouses her.
Well it arouses me as well. I enjoy Liz’s breasts. Don’t misunderstand me, I enjoy her ass, her groin, her hips, her lovely legs, her flat tummy, her well formed abs, her ribs, her straight shoulders, her toned arms, her graceful neck, her luscious lips, her eyes and eyelids, her ears and even the tip of her nose. In fact I enjoyed all of her, both on the outside where all that soft skin is and on the inside where her brain and heart and wit and the real Liz resided. It is just at that moment I was playing with her nipple and enjoying that part of her.
After repeating this stroking several times, I reached into my stuff for my ‘secret weapon’. It is a simple piece of chamois cloth that I stroked over her ribs. I knew her so well I could almost hear her thoughts.
It covers too much area to be a feather. Could it be fur? No it feels more like cloth. Could it be silk? No it has more texture. Velvet perhaps? Not quite that much texture. Oh shit! This bastard has cut up one of my perfectly good chamois shirts.
In point of fact, I would no more dare to cut up her beloved chamois shirts than I would set the house on fire. Call me a wimpy master if you like, but this chamois was specifically purchased to torment my Liz and carefully secreted until the occasion arose.
More than any other fabric, chamois seemed at times to reach into her soul. It could recall long canoe trips and warm campfires, times when it kept her warm against the cold, reminded her of times she had been bound and her chamois shirt was the last thing she shed, times when she wore his shirt which was both to large and smelled of him, times she wore only the shirt and he would approach her while she did dishes and gently fondled her under it's warmth, times when----
I stroked down her side and along her flank. I shifted to a light touch as I dropped the cloth over one shoulder and gradually, ever so slowly, tugged it back up, teasing her breast with its feathery touch. I knelt behind her and ran the cloth down the back of her leg, over the back of her knee and down her calf. Then I removed the cloth and counted to seven. Reversing directions from the front this time I slid the cloth up the inside of her leg, sliding it so very gently over the flesh where her leg met her groin. I heard a moan as I avoided the vulva and then stood to run the cloth softly around the back of her neck.
I removed the cloth for a good 15 seconds this time and then began down from her shoulder through her cleavage barely touching the insides of her breasts. I reached her waist and slid down the soft swell of her gently rounded belly stopping just above her sweet mound. Then to break the sensation I leaned forward and nip, gently, always gently, at her abdomen. She had dared to brag about all of her abdominal exercises but, sightless and lured by the soft caress of the chamois, she was totally relaxed and the abdomen soft enough for my little nip. Of course that got me some sort of objection but, as I said, the lovely sub is incapable of intelligible speech. I took advantage of this by misinterpreting it and saying, "Oh, you liked that did you?"
I leaned forward but this time kiss the spot I had just nipped. I do so hate to be predictable. Except for that nip and the subsequent kiss, all Liz felt was the soft texture of the chamois. Sometimes it was just a feathery brush; sometimes it was firmly pressed against her skin. I used just an edge, a corner or the entire width of the strip of cloth. I tried to vary the strokes as much as possible but, always it was the soft brushed cotton chamois that she felt upon her lovely skin.
I ran the chamois cloth up to just below her breasts and slid around to her back. I stroked those lovely shoulders and then draped the chamois over her shoulder so that it covered one breast and the turgid nipple. Slowly I pulled the cloth up and back so that it caressed her nipple. Her grunts and attempts to talk had died away to be replaced with moans that sounded almost like purring.
I wrapped the chamois under her groin and pulled slowly up and to the side so that it just caressed her outer lips but avoided the slit itself. She tried to shift her hips sideways to get the cloth to rub over her clitoris but I had anticipated this move and continued to pull to the side. Now I held the cloth across her chest just barely touching the bottom of her breasts. Sawing the cloth back and forth I slowly raised it caressing her sensitive skin until it just barely touched the underside of her nipples.
My sub was trying to plead for more contact but I stepped back. I went over to her dresser and found a necklace and placed it around her neck as she cooled down. Then I worked her back up stroking, dragging and touching every part of her body except her slit and clit. When I was certain she was sufficiently worked up and needy, and her moans had turned to pleas, I tucked the cloth through the necklace and let the end dangle so that they just covered her hard nipples. Each breath she took caused her nipples to rub against the soft chamois.
Left hanging and spread, the vibrant need I had sparked in her body was but a barely noticeable hum now. (Except for those moments when the chamois dragged across her nipples.) Soreness in her arms interrupted her thoughts. She struggled a bit to get more comfortable, giving her muscles a flex and twist. Getting out was clearly hopeless. She sagged into her bondage, as relaxed as she could get, her head lolled forward, the world sightless and soundless to her. Maybe he was watching; certainly he was plotting.
"Bastard!" At least that was what she tried to say through the gag. She shook futilely against the ropes in frustration driven by her helplessness in the face of what was to come. She threw her head back and once again felt the chamois touch upon her nipples.
I watched this wonderful woman shake against the ropes and then surrender to her feelings. I was going to repeat the teasing but I wanted her to have breaks when she would have to wonder what I was doing and if I had left her and if the teasing was over.
With Liz strung up, blind and deaf I moved as quietly as I could to gather the items I was going to need for the next act. Liz liked to be held very tightly in bondage. In fact, in the past she had begged, "Tighter, Master, tighter," as I had brought her towards a climax in bondage. This was not my favorite thing. I was, frankly, concerned that we would dislocate a joint or pull a tendon and the last thing I wanted to do was damage this marvelous woman.
Still, I wanted to give Liz what she wanted. I had decided to bind her so tightly that she wouldn’t be able to move any part of her body. Not even to twitch. Then while held so tightly I would bring her to orgasm. I hoped that this would force her to absorb the orgasm entirely internally, hopefully intensifying it and reaching new levels. If the Iraqi ex-dictator would forgive me stealing his not very loud thunder (and even if he wouldn’t), I was hoping to give Liz the mother of all orgasms.
There were a number of things I needed to do this and I went about gathering them. I needed rope to secure her ankle cuffs to the frame on either side of the head of the bed. To facilitate things later, I fastened the ropes to the bed frame and led them up onto the mattress. I also needed her three-cornered pillow that was one of those stiff bolsters used to prop up people who had to be fed in bed or to allow more comfortable reading in bed. This I placed at the top of the bed where I could easily grab it.
As I went to gather the other things I paused to run another chamois strip up her back, just barely caressing her buttocks. Then I led the cloth up her spine. Next she felt it on her shin and then leading up her rib cage on one side then the other. Having gotten Liz into the spirit of things, I again left her blind and deaf, wondering where I was and what I was doing as I gathered some other items.
I placed two tennis balls, two additional ace bandages and my trusty roll of duct tape on her night table within easy reach. I paused for a moment to lift the chamois dangling over her right breast and lovingly kissed, licked and sucked on her nipple. Have I mentioned that I like Liz’s breasts? When the nipple seemed to be as hard and turgid (and sensitive) as it could get, I dropped the chamois back over it certain that every breath would be felt as the chamois teased the nipple. I then slipped out of the house and went to my car.
I retrieved a cargo tie down strap and ratchet from the trunk. Returning inside I treated Liz’s left nipple to the same kissing, licking and sucking that had been done with the right nipple. Well, I don’t like to be repetitive but fair is fair, and her left nipple is every bit as exquisite and deserving of my attentions as her right nipple.
With Liz again panting I got down on the floor and hooked the cargo strap to the cross member at the lower end of the bed frame. I led the strap portion through the spindle on the ratchet and turned it until I was certain that the strap was secure on the spindle. Then I placed the ratchet on the lower part of the mattress ready for use.
Back to Liz for a few minutes of teasing and listening to her garbled protests. In fact it almost seemed as if she might have had something nasty to say to me. Oh well, I am certain this lovely woman would never use the oaths I could almost make out through her gag.
Fetching the tennis balls, ace bandages and duct tape I lowered her arms to about chest level. Ann’s legs were still spread and she was still deaf, more or less gagged, and blind, of course. I placed a tennis ball into one hand and closed her fingers over it. When she was holding it I wrapped the ace bandage around her hand ensuring that she had lost any ability to flex her fingers. I secured the bandage with a couple of strips of the ubiquitous duct tape.
When her other hand was similarly sealed into a ball I unfastened her cuffs from the spreader bar and brought them behind her where I tied them together, leaving the end of the rope dangling for later use. I took off the ropes from her ankle cuffs and led her to the bed where I helped her to mount in a kneeling position, facing the foot of the bed, about two thirds of the way down.
With Liz kneeling I moved her knees apart and then tied the two ropes from the upper corners of the bed to her ankle cuffs. I moved her feet into a sort of ‘en pointe’ position so that the tops of her feet were pressed against the mattress, which caused her toes to be curled up. I ran the chamois gently over her soles and I am certain she thought I was going to tickle her. I stopped and left her wondering what was going to happen. There was one final step before I began. I wanted to remove her ear plugs so that she could hear the click, click of the ratchet as her bondage became tighter and tighter.
When this was done I helped her lean back onto the bed while leading the rope from her bound wrists down through her wide-spread thighs. I pulled this rope down causing her shoulders to move down towards her knees and forcing her to arch her back slightly. This rope was tied off to the hook on the ratchet device, using only a slipknot, as I wanted to be able to get a quick release should it become necessary. It was time to begin.
I reached down for the ratchet device and lifted the handle. Then I pushed it down. Click, Click, Click, Click. Four clicks and then it was time to lift the handle again. Liz heard the clicks and felt a tightening as the ratchet pulled up the slack in the line and began to pull her shoulders towards her spread knees, further arching her back. I began by kissing the inside of her thighs and then licking up her slit and inserting my tongue into her canal for another taste of that sweet fresh musky nectar. As I did I slowly lowered the handle. Click... Click... Click... Click. This time I was certain she felt the pull as her arms and shoulders were tugged down and her back forced into a tighter arch. I moved up and began to work on her breasts.
Now you should understand Liz is a real woman, not some plasticizsed bimbo. On her back her lovely natural breasts tend to recede into her chest. With her back beginning to arch further stretching her, her breasts were flattened into slight, lovely mounds. Still they were as sensitive as ever to my gentle touches both with the chamois strips and with my fingers. My mouth and tongue were busy paying proper attention to her lovely nipples that stood proudly above her chest. As I worked I levered the ratchet again pulling her further down and into a tighter arch. Click... Click... Click... Click.
Just before I left that oh so delicious chest I reached up and slid the three cornered pillow under her head as a wedge. This forced her to bend her head forward until her gagged chin was pressing against her sternum and prevented her from moving her head side to side.
You can see the picture can’t you? Liz was arched against the bed on her shoulders and knees. The arch of her back was tending to lift her knees slightly and pressing the tops of her feet down into the mattress so that she couldn’t wiggle her toes. Her hands were balled so that her fingers were immobile. Her arms pulled down so that she had no movement in either them or in her shoulders. Her eyes were held closed by the pads and blindfold and her mouth fixed by the whiffle ball gag. Her head itself was pressed against her chest so tightly that it couldn’t move from side to side. She was immobile.
Well almost. As I slid two fingers into her to search for her G spot I saw her belly twitch. The arch wasn’t quite tight enough. Click... Click. I didn’t want to go much further but her belly was now stretched to a drum like tightness. I heard a strange sound coming from her, mainly through her nose but perhaps a bit through the holes in the ball gag. It sounded sort of like a long drawn out keening, sort of an "N" sound.
As I found her G spot the noise went up a couple of notes in pitch. But I thought I saw a muscle tremor on the inside of her thigh. That would never do. Click. I stroked her G spot again and saw no movement at all. Perfect. Now normally I like to take a long time to work Liz up to an orgasm, as I think it makes them stronger and more enjoyable. In this very strained position, however, I wanted to bring her to climax before the ache in her joints turned to agony and ruined the entire scenario. The earlier teasing combined with the foreplay I had given her while tightening her bonds would have to be enough.
I increased the tempo of my fingers stroking her G spot. Being careful to keep the touch light in this very tender spot I flexed my fingers curling them as rapidly as I could. I was rewarded with a further increase in pitch. To compliment the rapid stroking of her G spot, I used my other hand to spread her outer lips and lowered my mouth to her clitoris. I gripped it with my lips and sucked it into my mouth while lashing at it as rapidly as I could with my tongue.
Her sound went up again in pitch, and almost at once I could feel her internal muscles clenching my fingers. The sound continued to rise in pitch until it was almost a scream and I wondered if we were going to be attracting all of the dogs in the neighborhood. Then everything went silent.
I moved back lifting my head from her clitoris and pulling my fingers from her vagina. I reached back and pulled the slipknot. Liz collapsed onto the bed the arch in her back flattening and her shoulders pushing up the bed. Mission accomplished I thought to myself.
Liz was still lying on her bound hands so I untied the rope from the cuffs and moved her arms and still balled hands to her sides. Then I moved to the top of the bed and untied and unfolded each leg. I pulled out the three cornered pillow and tossed it on the floor and unfastened the gag strap and worked the gag out of her mouth. I unwrapped her blindfold and looked down at her. I had intended, at this point, to enter her and satisfy my own needs but I realized that I had outfoxed myself.
Liz’s mouth gaped open and her chest rose and fell as she tried to suck in oxygen. Her eyelids fluttered but remained closed as though it was too much effort to lift them. Clearly this woman was exhausted and intercourse now would not be pleasurable for her. As Snidley Whiplash used to say, "Curses, foiled again."
I stood up and looked at my precious sub. Well if I couldn’t have sex, I would do the only thing left for a red blooded American boy. I stuffed myself, somewhat uncomfortably I might add, into my jeans, put on my shoes and went out the back door to mow the lawn.
My intention had been to use the heat of working in the hot sun to replace the heat of ardor that was burning within me. It actually worked as I grew sweaty pushing the lawn mower up and down I felt myself getting more comfortable (that is to say softer) in my jeans. It was after about thirty minutes of mowing and dumping the clippings into the flowerbed border for mulch when I looked up and saw her standing, nude in the doorway. She had apparently recovered and used her teeth to get rid of the wrappings I had left on her hands.
She looked magnificent standing there. I don’t know how long she had been there but I felt my heart lurch (as well as another part of my anatomy somewhat further south). I let go of the safety bar and let the mower spin to a stop, ignoring the remaining lawn as I started towards her. As I climbed the steps to the porch and I am certain Liz saw the predatory look in my eyes. She stretched out one arm and contacted my chest with her outstretched fingers. "You can’t track those grass clippings into the house," she said with her mouth curving into her crooked grin.
Well it was her house and, of course, she was right. Still, I wasn’t about to let her go back inside while I was sweating over her lawn. Liz had a clothesline running from the back of the house to a tree about 30 feet away. It was one of those pulley deals so that the clothes could be reeled in or out from the porch. I had never paid any particular attention to it but it now seemed to be a handy source of rope.
I took Ann’s wrist, the one that was poking me in the chest, and pulled her along behind me to the corner of the porch. My pocketknife cut cleanly through the line and now I had about 60 feet of good soft cotton clothesline. I crossed Liz’s hands at the wrists and tied them with the line carefully cinching the wraps and putting the knots above her wrists, out of reach of her fingers. Of course this left the knots available to her teeth but I would take care of that soon.
Using the rope as a leash I gently tugged Liz down the porch steps and towards the flowerbed that ran along one side of her yard between the three rail wooden fence and the grass. Backing her up against the last fence post I pushed her down to kneel in the soft earth. I cut the lead from her hands leaving about six feet for later use and went behind her. "Cross your ankles please." Liz complied moving her knees apart to allow her ankles to cross behind the post. A few quick turns and a cinch and Liz was not going to be able to leave the post. I took the ends of the rope from her ankles back forward and looped it over her thighs so that she was now unable to rise up at all.
I took the lead from her wrists and brought her hands up over her head and back down her back. This put the knots behind her and well out of reach of her teeth. To keep them in this position I looped the lead around her crossed ankles and tied it off. Now at this point Liz wasn’t going anywhere but I though it best to test by running my hands down the underside of her arms and gently tickling her armpits. I got the wriggle I had been aiming for and the evidence that the knots were quite secure. I spent a few minutes stroking the underside of her arm and teasing her breasts. You will recall that this is one of Liz’s triggers and my stroking soon elicited appreciative sounds.
I still had quite a bit of rope left over and I had always been taught ‘waste not, want not’ or perhaps in this case it was knot. I used the remainder of the rope to wrap Ann securely to the post with loops around her waist, below her breasts, over the upper slope of her breasts and finally behind her neck, over her shoulders, through the armpits and around the post. Since I had plenty of rope I cinched all of these loops off very carefully so that Liz had no chance of any movement of her torso. I debated running a line around her forehead to hold her head to the post but decided that I wanted her to be able to turn her head and see what was happening.
Now having boasted of my skill with ropes it is only fair to say that I proceeded to test my boasts by teasing and stroking Liz. I began with her breasts. I do like her breasts, and her nipples. Then I proceeded to use my hand on her groin. I worked her up to the verge of a climax, slowly and carefully and when I judged her to be at the very edge, I did what any red blooded American boy is supposed to do. I went back to finish the lawn. Liz actually had some objections to this failure to complete what I had started but once I got the mower started I couldn’t hear her at all.
As the mower bag filled I was emptying it in the flowerbed where the grass clipping would rot away and provide mulch. I had gotten about two thirds of the way up the flower bed and each time I stopped the mower and emptied the bag Liz would order, ask and finally beg me to come back and finish her off. Of course, each time a bag was empty I would work her back up to the verge of a climax before returning to the mower.
I tried to be inventive in these little sessions. One time I would focus on her breasts and nipples, using my fingers and mouth. The next I would concentrate on kissing her face. The little minx actually tried to bite me during one of these sessions but I simply grabbed her hair and pulled, forcing her head up and exposing that lovely neck for my attention. It took me several minutes to work my way down to the lower end of her neck where it joined her shoulder. I could feel her pulse as I kissed and nuzzled her.
I didn’t do too much insertion of my hand into her vagina as my hands weren’t all that clean and I didn’t want to risk infecting that hot moist area. I did, however, manage to suck one of my forefingers clean and use it to massage her clitoris on one of the trips.
I also delighted in pressing my sweaty body against Liz, hugging her to me as I teased her. When I sweat there are rivers of sweat pouring down my back. My forehead drips salty fluid into my eyes and the hair on my chest becomes wet and matted.
Liz, on the other hand, seemed to develop a fine sheen. Her body glows and almost looks like some ancient harem girl who has been oiled and perfumed for her master’s pleasure. As she breathes and her chest rises and falls the sun picks out highlights and reflections that seem to twinkle to please the eye. Even tied to a post, sweating in the hot sun, she looked so very erotic.
I was nearly done with both the lawn and mulching the flowerbed when Liz realized my intentions. Up until that time, I think she had thought that I was simply going to tease her and leave her to sweat in the hot sun while I worked. As I approached with the last bag of clippings, however, she realized that the mulch had covered the bed right up to her thigh. There was only one place for the clippings to go. Liz must have seen something in my eyes or face. I told you, didn’t I, that one of the delightful things about Liz was how she could tell things about me that I didn’t even know myself.
As I approached Liz stopped begging for a climax and said "Oh no, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t dare do that to me. No! No!" Even while she demanded that I stop she was laughing. I was as giddy as a high school kid and simply emptied the final bag over her. She wound up covered in grass clippings from hair to knees (her calves being folded under her and therefore protected). Some of the clippings must have gotten into her mouth because she was sputtering and spitting as I walked back to the mower.
I really don’t have any excuse for that last bit of nasty business but in the grand American tradition of blaming someone else for your own bad behavior, I will chalk it up to delirium brought on by denial of sexual release. Yea, it was really all Liz’s fault.
Conscience clear, I used the garden hose to clean up the lawn mower and ran it back into its shed. Then I freed my lovely sub from the post, removing all of the ropes around her torso first. Then I detached the leash from her ankles and finally untied her ankles. I left the ropes that held her wrists crossed in front of her and provided the leash. As Liz rose the grass clippings clung to her body and I noted that her shins bore traces of the dirt she had been kneeling in.
Liz was clearly upset at the state of her body and hair and was trying carry off a regal and haughty ‘we are not amused’ demeanor at my juvenile antics. It is tough, however, to be haughty when you are sweaty, nude, covered with grass clippings and being led by a leash to your bound hands. She did a pretty good job of carrying it off when I was looking directly at her but I could see the smile surfacing and twitching at the corners of her mouth when she thought I was looking in the other direction.
She was smart enough to remain silent as I led her up the steps on to the porch. She lost it however when I tied her hands to the railing holding her in place. "What are you doing?" she demanded.
I smiled as I walked over to the hose bib and replied, "Why I am just following your instructions, Liz. You said we shouldn’t track grass clippings into the house." With that I turned the hose on my shoes rinsing off the clippings.
I have mentioned that Liz is bright. It was immediately apparent to her what was next in line to be rinsed off. "Oh no," she cried, "please let me go into the shower. Don’t..."
Her protests and pleas died in a sputter as I sprayed her face with the very cold water from the garden hose. I didn’t bother to respond to her shrieks and, rather nasty, threats as I sprayed her from head to toe, front, back and sides. When we were both free of grass clippings I kicked off my shoes and dropped my jeans, which had become soaked in the process.
I thought briefly of having intercourse right there on the back porch. My brilliant analytical mind, however, deduced that my sweet submissive might not be very receptive to loving sex at the moment, so I abandoned the idea and led my very wet and bedraggled Liz, dripping water, through the house into her bathroom shower.
I got the water adjusted to a reasonable level and we both climbed in. Taking my life in my hands I removed the last bit of rope from Liz and began to rub soap over her body while we luxuriated in the warm water. I will admit that, while playing with the soap, there might have been a bit of fondling and stroking. I even washed her hair, which I found to be a strangely erotic experience. I don't know why that would be. It is just shampoo and hair and her head but perhaps it is because it is such an intimate thing. In any case I felt my arousal growing again. Liz noticed and, apparently forgiving my childish pranks, began to reciprocate by washing me as well. Her soapy hands gliding over my penis brought me to full hardness.
Liz finished my front and turned me towards the water to rinse off while she moved behind me and began soaping my back. I was contemplating how to go about intercourse in the slippery shower without falling and injuring one or the other of us when it happened. I was facing the showerhead with Liz behind me when the hot water ran out. The warm water grew tepid and then cool before I realized it. As I was about to move Liz held my elbows and I heard her giggle as she said, "You need to rinse your back." The water became cold and caused me to shrivel almost instantly. I thought ‘Curses, foiled again.’ as Liz slipped out of the shower.
Well, perhaps my clever little sub hadn’t forgiven my pranks. This was her house and she must have had a pretty good idea of how long it would take to run out the hot water. I don’t really know if she managed to time things that perfectly, but decided that my pride would best be served if I ignored what I was thinking and treated the entire incident as an accident. Still, using cold water to dampen my ardor (and not so incidentally, chill my groin), just after the cold water hosing I had given her, did seem to be more than coincidence. It is just one of those things that I will never know.
After I had finished rinsing my back (yes, in cold water) I stepped out of the shower and toweled off. There was no sign of Liz, who had apparently escaped my clutches. As I stepped into the bedroom I heard noise in the kitchen and headed in that direction.
As I headed toward the kitchen I could hear Liz’s small percolator bubbling merrily away on the stove and generating coffee smells. I knew Liz didn’t drink coffee, and if she was brewing some it was a pretty good indication that we had made peace -- my stupid pranks forgiven by that magnificent woman.
When I got to the kitchen I found my sweet sub preparing our long delayed breakfast, or was it now brunch. She was wearing her old blue chamois shirt. It was a favorite garment whose tails hung down below her rear end but focused my eyes on her long and lovely legs. The shirt had been washed so many times that the soft brushed cotton molded itself to Ann as she worked. It seemed to cup a buttock as she leaned forward. The next moment as she turned and reached for something the shape of her breast was visible. Perhaps, aided by my vivid imagination, I thought I could see the slight swell of her turgid nipple, though with the thick brushed cotton it may not have actually been clearly visible.
I stood in the doorway watching Liz break the eggs into a bowl, add milk and begin to chop up ham, cheese, scallions and peppers for the Denver omelet we were going to feast upon. I wanted to reach out and touch her but the scene was so enticing that I remained unseen in the doorway.
Or was I? My lovely sub seemed to be going back and forth to the refrigerator more times than necessary and there seemed to be just a slight extra bit of sway in her hips as she walked. Wasn’t she stretching out for the scallions when she had just walked past them? My lovely sub was back at it. Teasing, arousing and seducing me as only she could. Lord that woman was something.
Unable to resist I walked up and placed my hands on her shoulders, caressing them through the chamois. Liz leaned forward and wiggled her barely covered ass against my groin. That was definitely no accident. "Don’t start what you don’t want to finish," I said.
"I won’t," she replied. "Are you sure you are up for this?" she asked. My growing member against her ass provided a nonverbal but very clear response. I was behind Liz but saw my practical sub turn off the cook top and move her hands in front of her. She was unbuttoning her shirt, an invitation that was both clear and one that I was unable to resist.
I pulled the shirt down off her shoulders and tossed it backwards to land someplace in the kitchen behind us. I moved my hands to her smooth broad shoulders and felt the soft skin over the muscular frame. Don’t get me wrong. Liz is not some female body builder. She is tall and trim and muscular but not excessively so. All of the wonderful female curves that I so love are prominently present on her gorgeous body. I leaned my head forward to kiss the base of her neck and found myself lost in her scent.
Oh, I know, most of it was the soap and shampoo we had just used, but there was more, a hint perhaps of her musk, indicating her arousal. But there was a still more subtle scent that was unique to this woman. My nose wasn’t sharp enough to isolate it and, even if it had been, my mind wouldn’t have been poetic enough to identify it. Lets just call the scent ‘essence of Elizabeth’ and say that I was lost in the delicate but heady fragrance as I stroked her shoulders and kissed her neck.
Liz, always the practical woman, broke the spell by thrusting her buns back into my groin and swishing from side to side. Not a word was spoken but she was clearly reminding me ‘Hey bud, there is more to be done here.’ You will recall that I said my lovely sub was submissive but never passive.
Having been brought back to the reality of the moment I pushed those lovely shoulders forward bending her over the counter. Using one foot I urged her legs apart and guided myself into her. She was wet and hot and tight and felt great. I began a slow in and out which she matched stroke for stroke. I watched the muscles of her shoulders and upper back flex and ripple in time with her movements and realized that even her back was erotic and appealing. Despite the frustrations of the morning we weren’t thrusting madly with animalistic lust but rather we were stroking each other in a slow and loving rhythm.
I slid my hands around her torso and cupped her breasts with my palms almost as if I was weighing them. My index finger stroked back and forth flicking across one nipple while the thumb and index finger of my other hand gripped and gently rolled her other nipple. I heard Liz moan appreciatively and heard a groan that I think came from me. For some reason I can’t quite explain, I released her breasts. This was strange, as I loved to fondle her breasts, reveling in the soft of the smooth flesh and the sharp contrast with the hardness of her exquisite nipples. My hands slid down her arms and then, palms down, up along her forearms past her wrists until my palms covered the back of her hands. I curved my fingers, interlacing them with hers and gripped her tightly. I felt her squeeze her fingers on mine in response.
I felt the familiar pre-orgasmic tightening in my testicles and, tightening the grip of my hands, warned her "I am not going to last much longer, my love." Liz’s response was to pick up the pace while further tightening the grip of her vaginal muscles on my member. It was only a few seconds before I exploded into her. The feelings were overwhelming and seemed to last forever as she drained me. I am ashamed to say that I don’t even know if she reached her climax. I remember her body shuddering under mine but can’t say if that was her reaching an orgasm or if she was simply reveling in the degree of pleasure she had brought to me.
As I resumed breathing and came down from my high, I leaned forward and kissed, well it was almost just a touch of my lips brushing across, the nape of her neck. I moved my lips near one of her lovely ears and said "Thank you my love."