Best Bondage Erotica 2014 (20 page)

Finally, gasping between words, he says, “Please...fuck me... with your cock.”

“Since you asked so nice.” I don't hesitate to slide the strap-on gently into him an inch at a time, sighing at the sweetness
of feeling his warm opening accept it. With his legs tied as they are, it takes only a palm on the inside of each thigh to hold them down and aside, exposing him completely. This doesn't keep him from trying to wrap them around me, the struggle making thrusting into him fully now all the more enjoyable.

It's a lovely sight watching my fake dick disappear into his ass over and over as I keep his thighs apart. When I have a steady pace going, I watch as instead of pushing his behind against me, he switches to furrowing his brow while making pained whimpers. His cock is straight in the air, dancing to the rhythm of my penetrating him and I can tell he's trying very hard not to come yet.

“Are you going to make a mess for me?” His eyes lock on mine. He nods, wrinkling his face in concentration. His desire to behave is greater than his need to climax. I grin at him as he watches me reach for his cock and stroke it. It's difficult to tell if he's glad for the stimulation or can't believe I'm being this mean to him. I feel him clench down on my rubber toy inside him. He makes animalistic noises as I continue fucking his ass and stroking his cock in the same tempo, unsure how he contains himself. I stop playing with his cock long enough to say, “Okay, be a good boy and come for me.”

He looks at me gratefully as I use my aching palm to rub circles around the ridge of his glans just the way he likes. I plant my strap-on inside him so I can focus on rubbing his neglected cock. It isn't long before he shoots a pearly mess over his belly, giggling at the great relief after so much buildup.

His asshole relaxes around my dildo as he composes himself, his breathing going steady. As I lean down to begin untying him, I purposefully rest my belly in the sticky come that covers his furry belly and say, “You are such a good boy.”

TIGHT-ROPE WALKER

Tilly Hunter

“It was your idea, remember,” Jake said as we puffed up the hill with all the other Sunday afternoon ramblers.

“I know, but I didn't quite realize how walking in it would make me feel.”

“Too late to change your mind now. Even if I was inclined to take it off, which I'm not, there's nowhere secluded to do it.”

He was right. It had been my idea to climb the 1,335 feet of Wrekin, one of the most popular family strolls in England's West Midlands while wearing a
karada
, a rope body harness. And there was indeed nowhere secluded where Jake could take it off me. We'd come out of the trees half a mile back and now the terrain was just bare stones and scrubby grass.

Jake had practiced the various harness possibilities several times since getting into the more intricate
shibari
bondage. But never before had I strode out for miles uphill while wearing it under my clothes, and I'd had no idea of how it would feel. No idea of the tantalizing but unsatisfying friction against my clit, the rawness as it rubbed the tender membranes of my pussy and
ass, the difficulty taking the deep inhalations I needed against the rope around my chest and belly. It was deep discomfort of the kind I liked best.

“Stop a sec,” he said. I did so and he came up behind me just like any other amorous husband might do during a country walk with his beloved. “Maybe if I do this, it will help take your mind off it. Just until we get to the top, and then it's all plain sailing downhill and home.” He grasped my wrists, pulled them behind me and linked the cuffs that were hidden between the sleeves of my fleece jacket and my thick woolen gloves.

I gasped and my body jerked involuntarily, pressing back into him. But my mind was rebelling. “You can't do that with all these people around. It's going to be bloody obvious. I might see someone I know, for god's sake.”

“While I was walking behind you, I noticed you often clasp your hands behind your back on the steeper sections anyway. No one is going to see a thing.” He had his arms around me now and I instinctively leaned my head back against his shoulder, baring the side of my neck for a kiss or a nip. But my neck was wrapped in a scarf, to hide my collar, and Jake neither kissed nor nipped. He just whispered in my ear, “So shut the fuck up and walk or I'll make you keep it on all day. And you can suck me off when we get home with no relief for yourself.” He was joking. At least, I think he was joking. But sometimes he surprises me.

I walked. I grabbed one wrist in the other hand to make it look like I was indeed just clasping them behind my back to balance the forward-leaning posture as I struggled uphill. The rope ran from its central point, lying between my shoulder blades, over my shoulders to a knot at my chest. Its double length, knotted twice more, passed over my belly and pubic mound, snug between my legs and back up to its starting point.

So far so simple. But then Jake had done the beautiful diamond
pattern he now knew so well. The rope ends wrapped under my armpits and through the two strands just above that knot at my chest. From there they parted again to pass over the tops of my breasts, thread through the loop at my shoulder blades and back to the front. All the way down my torso they threaded, hugging my breasts tight, wrapping my waist tight. Each pass pulled the downward strands between my legs a little more snugly into my pussy. I knew I had made those sections of rope wet.

I wasn't yet sure whether I regretted having the idea. It was now January, and it had already seemed a long and cold winter. The thing was, Jake and I had discovered the delights of outdoor sex and bondage the previous summer. Or rather, I'd finally revealed to him what my imagination got up to while we were cozy in bed, and he'd reacted with enthusiasm. He'd tied me to the trunks of trees, strung me up from branches, spread-eagled me on the earth with tent pegs, even hog-tied me in the shallows of a secluded beach where each incoming wave had made me gasp and splutter for breath. He had enough sense to do it while the tide was going out. But autumn had come, temperatures had dropped and we hadn't been out for our fun and games for months.

“Why don't you tie me into a harness I can hide under my clothes while we go out for a walk?” I'd said to him earlier that week, fed up with waiting for gray January skies to clear and the warmth of the sun to return. “You could even put on my collar and cuffs. If I wear a scarf and gloves, no one will see a thing. But it will make me horny as hell all the time we're walking. And then it will be there, ready, when we get home again.”

Me and my big ideas. “Hmm, sounds like a plan,” he'd said. “Forecast's dry for the weekend. We should do it on Sunday. We're going to my mother's for dinner Saturday, remember?”

I remembered. It felt like a very long evening of nodding in the right places and laughing and saying, “Oh yes, I know what
you mean,” rather than “Oh, just shut up so I can fantasize about rope.”

We'd gotten up late and had a big cooked breakfast, as befits a lazy Sunday morning. Then, around noon, Jake said to me, “Pajamas off. Time for our walk.” God, I'd thought that moment would never come. I was out of my PJs in seconds and standing, waiting, in the middle of the living room rug.

He put the collar around my neck first, as always. My collar. One-inch-thick leather that buckled into place. No lock, because I would never dream of attempting to remove it myself. But it did have four D-rings placed around it to account for all eventualities. He put similar leather cuffs on my wrists, then my ankles. These ones had simple karabiner-type clips to attach them to each other. If I was feeling brattish, I could escape them. Not easily, but it wasn't impossible. That's why Jake always used rope if he wanted me properly helpless.

Anyway, he moved on to the
karada
next. It had its usual effect on me, making my pussy pulse and my knees weak from the moment I felt the rope draped down the front of my body. As Jake pulled each wrap through the vertical strands, the vibrations went straight to my clit. I rocked my hips, smiling at the utterly delicious pressure there. He was careful not to tie it too tight and had used three-eighths-inch cotton to stop it from cutting into me. Once he was done, I put on my walking outfit, all sensible shower-proof fabrics, sturdy shoes with big grips and my winter woolens—hat, scarf, gloves. No panties though. And I pulled on a sporty crop top instead of trying to do up a bra strap over the ropes around my rib cage. As I moved around the house, up and down stairs and from room to room, I felt the harness hug my pussy snugly and imagined it doing so on our walk.

How wrong I was. Ambling around your house is nothing like actually taking a walk. A real, brisk walk over rough terrain.
I started off swinging my hips and grinning at the stimulation as the ropes ground from side to side over my clit. That didn't last long. Soon I was gasping at the sheer friction against tender places and the bite of restraint against parts of my torso that needed to rise and fall with my deep, hill-climbing breaths.

“How's it going?” Jake asked, winking, as I stopped for a rest for the first time.

“Fuck,” I gasped. “It's rubbing in all the wrong places. My ass is so sore. As for my pussy, I wouldn't be surprised if I'm actually bleeding. And I can't breathe properly.” I wanted to stick my hands down my pants and pull the ropes off my tender parts. But yet another family party, toddler in a rucksack carrier and older child moping behind, passed us. I hoped I was exaggerating about the bleeding. I like a little pain, but blood just makes me squeamish. I was pretty sure I was exaggerating.

I walked a lot more gingerly from then on, being as economical as possible with my strides and keeping my body upright and rigid. He was right though when he stopped me to link my wrist cuffs behind my back. It did take my mind off it. Suddenly, I welcomed the discomfort and the challenge of regulating my breathing.

I was in a world of my own as we headed toward the summit, being downright rude to those who said hello as they passed. Freed from the temptation to grab at the harness and shift the friction, I took it one step at a time, breathing hard. My clit throbbed against the pull and hitch of the rope. It made me wonder whether a tongue or finger would feel soothing there later, or like a further irritation of the tenderized spot.

I reached the viewpoint at the top and leaned sideways against it, trying now to make my hands-behind-my-back pose look natural. Jake was right behind me. He could have passed me and got there first, but I knew he preferred to watch my
ass flexing as I moved up the slope. He stepped behind me and turned me to face the concrete pillar of the viewpoint, pressing his crotch into my crushed hands. Regardless of the passersby, he reached beneath my scarf and hooked a finger around the D-ring at the back of my collar, pulling my head into him so my back arched. I whimpered very quietly, hoping the breeze would carry the sound away. I was still trying to catch my breath and felt the collar's pressure on my windpipe all the more acutely.

Jake pressed against me and I felt his cock stiff against my fingers. “I want you so much,” he murmured in my ear. “I can't wait to get you home and fuck you hard. I'm going to take my pleasure, then I'm going to make you come with my tongue while my knuckles stretch your cunt wide open.” My stomach tingled in a way that had nothing to do with hunger. If he hadn't been crushing me against the pillar, I might have sunk to my knees right there. “You're going to spend the rest of the day tied up and I'm going to make you come over and over until you can't take any more.” I loved it when Jake told me all the things he wanted to do to me. But I was in silent mode myself, that mindset where you don't need a gag because you simply can't form words anymore.

He pulled back and unclipped my wrists. “You're more likely to slip going downhill,” he said, then in a louder voice, “Come on, let's get home and warmed up.”

He took my hand, and we turned back the way we'd come. That's when I realized how the harness had shifted as I'd hunched forward uphill. It had gradually pulled longer over my rounded back and shoulders, shortening down the front. Of course, going downhill meant my balance switched the other way. The ropes dragged mercilessly, pulling my labia and the soft inner slit of my ass forward again. I gritted my teeth and carried on, longing to be tied to the bed in comfort. I was on the edge of what I thought I could bear.

We didn't stop until we got to the car. The relief of sitting still in the passenger seat was instant, but the flesh between my legs throbbed. I sat there afraid to move an inch, focusing on the few minutes it would take to get home.

Jake had other ideas. He turned down a quiet country lane. “What are you doing?” I gasped. “I need to get home. Now.”

“I can't wait until we get home.” He pulled into a lay-by and turned off the engine. “I need to be in you.”

I started with a “But—” He got out of the car and shut his door on my protests.

Opening my side, he told me to get out and take my pants off. “I want you on all fours on the backseat, cunt at the door.” I pulled my pants over my walking shoes and crawled into the back, stopping with my knees on the edge of the seat, ass in the doorway. At least he'd opened the door facing the hedgerow and not the road. He stood behind me and yanked the ropes apart between my legs, making my ass gape and exposing my pussy. The constriction at my waist tightened as he pulled. I felt the tip of his cock at my entrance as he struggled to guide it in while holding the harness aside. Finally the head slid inside and he rammed the rest of it home, his fingers trapped between his pelvis and my butt. He dragged his hands free and grabbed the ropes at the small of my back to pull me hard against him.