Valentine's Delight
I'm actually a little embarrassed to be writing this one, but here goes...
It's a story about a Valentine's Day surprise, but in large part, it's a story
about my terrific girlfriend, Peggy. We've been going out about 8 months now,
and early on in the physical part of our relationship, we discovered we both
liked hot B&D sex. I had known this about myself for years. For Peg, it kind of
snuck up on her. She knew that sex was more exciting when her boyfriend held her
down, or if her hands were tied with a belt robe, but that's about it.
We started from that point and I quickly brought her up to speed on
state-of-the-art BDSM. Which was pretty easy thanks to the jillions of websites
that (face it) we all visit. It was eye-opening for her to see the leather
cuffs, ball gags, and other paraphernalia that's on the market. She grew
wide-eyed seeing girls hoisted up in suspension, and reading the text that they
loved to be bound this way.
Anyway, one night I stopped at her house to find her surfing the net, and
stopping by all our favorite haunts.
"Have you noticed," she asked, "that most of the people in bondage are the
women?"
"Sure I've noticed. In fact, I've counted on it."
"Isn't that sexist?" she said, clicking on another image.
"Sure it's sexist, but I'm sure as hell not complaining," I quipped. I took the
mouse and clicked a few times to show her a men-in-bondage webpage. "What do you
think of that?"
She looked at a few images while I sipped from her glass of Coke, not disturbing
the lipstick smear on the opposite rim of the glass.
"This is o.k., I guess. Jeez, he sure is hairy," she said.
"Yuck." I agreed. And then I started down the conversational path. "For me, men
don't look right tied up."
"What do you mean? You look great when I tie you up," Peg said with a smutty
grin.
"That's sweet of you to say, but there's something about women. The womanly
form. I mean, when her arms are pulled back, a woman's chest is pushed forward
and looks great. When her legs are tied, she looks somehow graceful. Contrast
that to that guy, with his balls lying on top of his thighs. It's gross." I
pointed out.
She nodded absently. "I guess. A lot of these pictures are of women tying or
pulling at the balls and penis."
"Yeah, it's called cock-and-ball torture and you can leave me out of it. Click
on something else, will you? I think I'm turning green."
She punched up another website on our "Favorites". "You'd rather look at her?"
Peg suggested, indicating a gorgeous brunette, her mouth sealed with strips of
tape, her chest criss-crossed with thick white rope.
"Well, sure I would because she's a woman. But the feminine form is so much more
graceful. Notice her smooth skin, her not-hairy body. See how her eyes are
pleading... like yours do." I said, stepping behind Peg and starting to knead
her shoulders. I continued, "The breasts are so proportional and attractive,
like a sculpture in an art museum. Her bra shows lots of cleavage, and it's
accented by the harness tie. Look at her shiny thighs and knees in the
pantyhose, her ankles drawn behind her out of sight. Probably tied with 20 feet
of rope. Museum quality stuff, hon."
Peggy smiled and turned, then reached up to caress my hardening dick through my
jeans. "Let me turn the computer off and help you take care of this."
Which she did.
I didn't think too much about the conversation. After all, we typically took
turns in our dominant and submissive roles, with me tying Peggy more often than
not, but her getting a fair share of taking the lead.
But Valentine's Day 2002 was a little different.
She called during the work day and in very suggestive tones, encouraged me to go
home first, shower, then dress and come to her house. "I'll take care of
dinner," she said. "We're not going out, so don't dress up. A T-shirt and jeans
will be fine." So I took her at her word, except for drawing on a new pair of
dark colored briefs.
When I let myself in to her living room, I didn't see her immediately, but then
she stepped out from around the corner and gave me a look. This was one hot
costume, black corset drawn tight, and creating impressive full cleavage. She
had on tiny black panties, thigh-high stockings, her highest shiny red heels.
She had a red chocker at her throat and carried a thick stiff riding crop.
"Wow" was all I could say, but it was enough.
"You will speak when spoken to," she commanded, but the way her eyes gleamed, I
knew she loved the compliment. "Now walk to the bedroom."
As I strode across the living room, I felt my cock stiffening in my pants.
"Take off your shirt," she ordered. As I complied, she told me to sit on the
edge of the bed and remove shoes and socks, which I did with abandon. "Now stand
and remove your jeans."
I stood and unbuttoned the jeans and slowly slid them down. Peg gave a slight
smile as she saw my new briefs tightly clinging to my form.
"You may leave your shorts on," she announced. She threw a paper bag to me.
"Open it, and put that on."
I uncrinkled the top of the department store bag and withdrew a large, red bra.
Oh shit, I thought, do I really want to do this?
Mistress Peg tapped the crop on her open palm. "You think women belong in
bondage, you're about to discover it for yourself," she said, raising her chin
defiantly.
I sighed, then thrust one arm, then the other through the strap loops. I reached
behind myself to try to connect the hooks, but couldn't get them to fasten.
"Foolish boy," Peggy spat, and came to my rescue, pulling the garment tight
around me and fastening the hooks. She reached in the bag and pulled out two
foam cones, which she rudely stuffed in the gaping bra cups. As she stepped
back, I arranged them for better comfort.
"Stand and model for me," Peggy said, and I slowly rose to my feet. I posed one
way, then another, arching my back, finishing with one hand on my hip. I'm
certain it was all she could do not to fall down convulsing in laughter.
"Briefs off now," she ordered, and I slid them down.
Another bag hit the bedspread. I opening it and pulled out three packages of
women's pantyhose, queen sized. I looked up at Peg. She nodded.
Have you ever put on pantyhose? I mean, I've watched women do it and I thought
it was very sexy, but truth be told, it's a damn struggle. I restarted twice,
and finally got them smoothed up my legs and tugged the waistband up, past my
navel.
"Now," Peg said with a smile. "Put on another pair."
Somehow this second pair went on easier than the first. Maybe I was getting the
hang of it, maybe the nylon was sliding easily over the first layer.
"And a third."
This third was, I think, control top hell. Three layers of nylon on my legs made
them stiff to bend. And talk about stiff, my curved cock was trapped upward,
pinned against my belly.
From a drawer she pulled a small red ball gag and threw it to me. I caught it
awkwardly, trapping it against the lacy cups of my impressive chest. I placed
the ball carefully in my mouth, behind my teeth and buckled it behind me.
Peg laid a white nylon stocking across my lap. "Since we don't have a hood, yet,
I want you to pull that on, over your head."
What are you going to do, you've come this far. I rolled up the stocking, pulled
it over crown of my head, and pulled it well down, where it snugly clung around
my neck. Everything was in a white haze, but I could see clearly enough, even if
I did feel like a bank robber.
"Stand up and turn around," she ordered, and in a few seconds, my wrists were
bound behind me in thick leather cuffs. Next she cinched a belt around my waist,
and zip-tied the connecting cuff-chain to the belt.
"Come over here," and she steered me until I was in front of the bureau mirror.
Through the white haze, I stared at the two women, the dominatrix and her large
but feminine sub. I saw her white stocking hood, a tinge of pink where the red
ball showed. The red bra. The nylon encased legs. Peg turned me into profile and
I saw the large breasts. As she caressed the breasts, I felt their incredible
touch. Even through the foam inserts, she was somehow stimulating my nipples.
This was extreme. My thick cock was mashed inside the pantyhose and I could
barely make out its appearance in the mirror.
"What do you think of that, bitch?" Peg's words were like an electrical shock.
One of her hands caressed my breast, the other stroked my shoulder where the
strap pulled. It all felt so foreign to me, but gad, so sexy. I moaned in
appreciation.
A sudden hot slap on my ass. "Onto the bed, slut." Peggy never talked this way.
It was incredibly exciting.
I watched with hazy vision as she wound rope around and through my ankles,
cinching them tight. Then she came a few feet closer and bound my thighs with no
less than 5 passes of the rope. I could only shake my hands impotently behind me
and moan provocatively.
And then, the evil conniving bitch, then she tied a cord to my bound ankles and
drew them up behind me, tying the other end to my wrists and the belt. I was
well and truly hog-tied.
Pulled back just that way, my thighs flexed against their bonds in a new form of
torment. I strained against it, and the waist belt slipped just slightly. I
complained with a string of muffled groans. I wasn't going anywhere. Peggy was
delighted.
I soon heard the click-whirr of our digital camera as she photographed the
Amazonian she had trussed on her bed. She got a number of lovely angles, much to
my ongoing embarrassment.
I felt her climb onto the bed behind me and as I turned my head, slap! Another
spank on my ass. "What's today, the 14th?" she asked as she whacked me again and
again on my right ass check. I protested as vocally as I could, but to little
avail. The last slap stung worst of all.
I lay on the bed panting as she rolled off the bed, then took more pictures of
my hands tied down by my ass. I'm sure she wanted to capture my delightfully red
bottom, but it was virtually invisible under three ply of nylon.
Peg came around the bed and lay down at my front. She slowly began to caress my
full breasts as I groaned gratefully. Her hot mouth kissed my cheek and she
worked around to press her lips against my gagged mouth.
She slowly slipped a hand down, and with agonizing slowness, finally discovered
my swollen cock. I squeaked appreciatively.
She caressed me as best as possible, through nylon and reinforced panels, my
thighs tightly bound together.
"How's my pantyhose princess now," she teased. "Does your pussy need release?"
I nodded forcefully, begging through the rubber gag.
She suddenly withdrew and turned to a nightstand drawer. She came back with her
thick pink vibrator. "Here's just the thing for you," she cooed. She tugged on
the topmost waistband of pantyhose, and slid the plastic dong inside it,
alongside my very real and very frustrated dick, but separated by the other two
layers of fabric. She released the waistband, arranging it so the dial control
poked outside the pantyhose.
Peg eased the dial and the vibrator sprang to life. It felt like electroshock
even though it was the lowest setting. The vibrator hummed in my pants,
stimulating my huge cock as it lay forcefully trapped in the nylon pantyhose.
She rubbed my heavy breasts for added emphasis.
"You know, you may be right," my mistress whispered at me. "It is very sexy to
have a woman tied and gagged in my bed."
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