Kas 20, 2023 // By:analsex // No Comment
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This has grown out of a series of emails with a group of women who experiment in bondage. Lets say fiction based on true stories.
Let me know what you think, and where to go from here. Everyone is over 18. Enjoy.
All i know is that it feels good.
Some people think what I do is bad. But they don’t know me. I will not allow myself to lose my own self worth. I will not be abused! I will be a happy slave, a good slave, and I will be treated with respect!
That’s the note taped inside my desk.
Then why am I letting him tie me up? Before you let someone tie your hands behind your back for the first time you have a lot to learn. Of course you can skip ahead if you really know the person and really knows what they are doing. Still thinking about bondage??
Here are some tips.
RED LIGHT/GREEN LIGHT – Works like a traffic light. RED means STOP GREEN means GO! You can experiment with YELLOW 😉 Say, “Red light!” and the action stops – unless you say, “Green light.” This gives you one more chance to back out. Expect a session of further negotiation if you do use a Red Light. Sometimes this is so once a Red Light is encountered the other person will end, stop, finished, nada. This is to keep you from getting Red Light-happy.
TIMED EVENT – You agree on how long the scene will last. Any time increment is ok. Times less than a minute or more than a week are kinda rare though. A good first time is 5-10 minutes.
LIMITS – You don’t have to have your hands tied behind you! They can be in front, in fact as a first time thing, hands in front is a good idea. The idea is to enjoy yourself.
DEVICES – A silk scarf is ok over handcuffs or even instead of handcuffs. You can agree to use some rotten yarn that you can break, if you want. Words of caution; don’t think you can break free with thread. You might be able to break it, but it will probably cut you. Beware duct tape! It can peel skin and ruin your clothes!
Well, truth be told it didn’t happen in a planned way at all. I broke all the rules. This is my story.
I have lived mostly by myself, except when my parents who are semi-retired and gone most of the time are back. That is, until now. The economy in this area went bad and my brother lost his job, so he moved back. No big deal, not really. But I am bummed. Not so much my love life getting cold water thrown on it, no chance of that.
My life is totally ordinary except, I have a secret no one knows that began as just a fantasy (my fingers are actually tingling as I write) that kept getting larger and larger. I doodled pictures of me strapped down, before shredding them at work or burning them at home. My fantasy: forced orgasm. No way that I could prevent it. Being completely tied up, blindfolded, touched against my will. Rubbed, stroked, penetrated, fingers shoved up inside, until I’d cum. Drives me crazy!! Oh, to have a hand on me like that!! Inside, arms bound behind my back. Oh god, I need to cum right now.
Now, understand this is fantasy. I never ever really wanted it to actually happen. But in fantasy, picturing it in every way imaginable, the aching agony, and the feeling of fear how it aroused me! I read about it, found stories and began looking for it online. Categorized as rape fantasy. But that was not what I wanted, was it? I was very conflicted about my feelings as I masturbated, imagining myself tied, arms cinched tight behind my back, legs spread, gagged, unable to move and that hand! Feeling myself penetrated. Fucking god.
Then it occurred to me I could do it by myself somehow, and I began to experiment.
In light of such an overpowering fantasy, one may think I was a real sensualist or wild, or worse. But it could not have been further from the truth. I was so completely not that type of person. I went to church almost every week, on my own, by myself. Yes I dated, had boyfriends, generally short term relationships. Yes I was intimate. But if I were to make the broadest generalization about my relationships with men, it would be that they were dissatisfying. To be honest I was not the sort of person who needed other people all the time, and as a result I was alone a lot of the time. When I was with a man I held back. Even though, the whole time we were kissing, making love, my inner thoughts were running off in such entirely other directions. My coworkers, my friends, my boyfriends, my lovers could never have imagined.
I think the disconnect was felt by those who tried to woo me, in that at some point they would invariably ask what I wanted. “What do you want? What would you like, sexually?” they would ask. Like they knew, or had some sense of my boredom, dissatisfaction. My reticence. What did I say? I answered with things that would seem ‘normal,’ like oral sex, like fucking doggy style. These areas all seemed ok, normal, aren’t they? But to say what I really wanted: To be tied up, bound and gagged and touched and fucked while I pretended it was against my will until orgasming? bursa bayan eskort To fuck me while I was screaming ‘NO’ ‘Stop!’ the whole time. Never.
Was it so disgusting?
Would it ruin my life? My secret. Shit. I’m not quite sure I know what I want. Or maybe I know and I don’t know how to say it. What do I really want?
And IT happened so innocently.
I was out shopping and walked into a fabric store, looking around for holiday items (I told myself). But while there – along with everything else – I bought two metal three inch rings. My hands trembling and my heart pounding as I laid them on the counter and paid the money, put them in my bag, carried them home. It felt like they were pulsating in my bag. These rings that I bought did nothing more than sit on my night stand, allowing me to look at them, a promise of things to come. I next bought some soft silk scarves, large and small ones, and I went home and tied the corners of these scarves into the rings.
What I did next is so utterly burned into my memory.
As my heart pounded, I removed my sweater, pulling it slowly off my head; and then removed my bra so that I was sitting with just my slacks on. I was sweating, my pussy felt so hot and wet. I took the rings and positioned them over my nipples, arranging the fabric across my shoulders and behind my neck, down behind my shoulders, cinching the scarves nice and snug causing my nipples to press through. I stood and looked in the mirror, turning this way and that, admiring my body. I was not bound, but the way my breasts looked with the scarves cinching them to my body, it felt electric.
I looked in the mirror. The rings made my nipples protrude, and I could feel them stiffen, my breasts framed by the black fabric. They bound my breasts perfectly as I turned and twisted in the mirror. I slipped my slacks off, so that now I was wearing only a small pair of black panties. I took another one of the scarves and began wrapping it around my wrists, could barely hold them I was shaking so badly, working a loose knot into it that I tightened with my teeth. I next leaned down and stepped over my bound wrists so that my hands were behind, standing in my panties to look in the mirror again, and then turned the door with the mirror so that I could see myself on the bed and lay down face first. The feeling was electric, to actually be bound imagining myself unable to escape. What if someone came in the room, saw me, began to touch me? No! I was so wet. AND, I realized that in this position I could not touch myself. I WAS restrained, out of control, the feeling was dizzying.
I could not masturbate, I lay like this squirming around as if trapped, keeping my face pressed to the mattress. I loved the way my breasts were bound, the way they felt as they slid against the fabric. I though of something that could make my nipples more sensitive. clips on my tight little nipples. Have I any of those? And it began. I lay there dreaming my fantasy, of someone seeing me, begging to be set free, being violated, hands rubbing me, fingers pulling my panties down. I would rock around on the mattress as if I were fighting them off, and could feel my pussy lips sliding together drenched in juices. Panting, for as long as I could stand it, before rolling onto my back and slipping my hands to the front and with my wrists still bound plunging my hands into my cunt, pressing inside, amazed at my juices, how wet, soaking wet, how hungry. I rubbed myself so hard, into the most powerful orgasm I’d had in my life.
Next day I went to work with those rings and scarves still tied in place, feeling them binding beneath my clothes. The feeling put me into a kind of ecstasy. As I stood for my train, I had to hold myself up, looking out at all the people. If they could only imagine. I know my cheeks glowed all day long. I felt on the edge of cumming at every moment, how I ached, and it was all I could do to contain rubbing my legs together, whose simple action would have sent me into orgasm right at my desk.
I kept doing this, day after day, seeing myself watching in the mirror and wondered about arranging a way to take photographs, but deciding that was all too risky. I dreamed of taking a picture – just one – to somehow *accidentally* share them with a lover, letting him see, being forced to explain this horrible secret. Oh god, how I would melt. It was impossible.
It was precisely at this point that David arrived, with a car load of stuff. He was able to move back into his room which was at the opposite end of the house from me. His personality was similar to mine, unlike those families where one sibling is outgoing and the other shy. We were all pretty to ourself people. But we got along, he was nice, a wonderful guy really.
I was not happy at all with the turn of events though, but what could I do. Nix the idea because it interfered with my bondage sessions?
We had relatively similar schedules so that bursa evi olan escort we were in the house at similar times and I hated that. He could sense I did not want him there.
“As soon as I find a job,” he kept saying. “This is only temporary sis.”
“No. No.” I reassured. I told him I liked having someone around, that it was nice to get to see him again like old times.
We played scrabble on some nights, he went out some nights and I went out. We ate together sometimes. It was utterly ordinary. There was one particular period, about two weeks long, where there simply had been no opportunity for me to have one of my sessions. I was extremely frustrated but avoided indicating that I would like him to be gone. One evening he explained he had a dinner date and would be going out.
“That would be fine.” I said, as my heart soared.
The moment he left I pulled my box out from the back of the closet, and sorted out scarves, binding ropes I had bought online, clips and rings. I needed this, it had been too long. I stripped my clothes off and put on a sheer nightie that ended at my belly button, and no bottoms so that I was naked from the waist down. I tied the scarves to the rings and deftly bound myself over the nightie, loving the way my breasts were pressed into the thin fabric; then running one scarf down between my legs so that the fabric ran through my slit and up the other side and tying it up nice and tight. I tied my ankles with the binding rope, and my knees, pulling them nice and tight. Oh, how that felt on my bare skin, and every time I moved the scarf sliding between my legs. Heaven! I bound my wrists, and positioned my arms behind my back. The scarves were soft and tight, I lay on the mattress and could stimulate myself by undulating my hips giving me that illusion of a hand on my body, touching me, sliding through my wetness. Violating me.
Lying on my bed I struggled, pretending to try escape as a hand roamed over my body, threatening me with all the things he was going to do!!
And this was to be my first close call:
I had to have lost track of time, because as I lay in my room, lights down low I thought I heard the door. My heart was beating so hard I couldn’t stand it, I could not move fast enough. The lights in the house were on, I looked at the clock it was 10:30 and he knew I would not be asleep, not at this time. I wouldn’t have time. What if he came up here?? I didn’t know what to do. My door was closed, and I tugged the bed covers down with my teeth and pulled the covers back over myself with my teeth to just over my shoulders.
When, just as I looked up, a knock! He immediately opened the door a crack, “Sis.”
I feigned like I was opening my eyes.
“You asleep already?”
“I guess I must have dozed off.” I lied.
He stepped into the room, my feelings were all a tangle. Here I lay tied up, and a mans voice in my room. I had cum once and was so wound up. I had to look as if I were sweating.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”
“No. its fine. I need to get up,” I looked at the clock. I could not move, or sit up or wipe my eyes. My hands were tied behind my back. Every move looked as if I were bound there, I had to lay a little sideways, but he would have no idea whatever. How could he suspect?
“You came home early.”
“Yeah. It was one of those online things. No good, I got out of there.” There was an extended silent pause. “You want to watch a movie?” he asked.
His voice was electric, his presence, it was crazy – I wanted to cum. I was in a bad way. To be touched. The way I was laying beneath the covers caused the scarf to pinch up between my legs, the slightest motion causing it to rub my clit. I began to undulate my hips unable to control myself.
“Uh, yeah. Give me a, uh, uh, minute.” I let out a sigh.
“What are all these scarves doing out?”
They were all over the floor, and I noticed there were also ropes and clips, a pile of rings some with scarves tied to them. Fuck! My box was on the floor with stuff spilling out. Shit. Shit.
“Laundry,” I said.
A pause and he asked, “You all right?”
I panicked, “I’m Fine! Just give me a – minute! Pick out a, uh, movie.” I was on fucking fire, my clit burning. I was going to cum. Get out!!
He looked around the room a little more, standing just a few feet away, the box down close to his feet. Silence. What was he thinking? I felt myself begin to shudder. The light was thankfully low. “Ok,” he said before he turned and left.
My orgasm rushing through my body as I stretched, tightening the fabric between my legs and rocking my hips. “Oh fucking god,” I breathed, as I lay there spasming in the bed, rocking myself back and forth. I lay a moment taking in what had just happened, how fucking incredible it felt.
I brought my legs to my chest and pulled my hands to the front, quickly untying the silk scarves with my teeth and then my legs. bursa rus escort I rolled over and pushed myself up. “Fuck,” I breathed, sitting my bare ass on the side of the bed and rubbing my hand flat between my legs, juices running over my fingers. I wanted to cum again, on fire. I began masturbating furiously again, fucking down on my fingers.
I could not help thinking how David had been in my room while I was tied up, my whole body was trembling and that feeling was wild. Beyond wild, like nothing I had ever felt before. I was completely vulnerable, in that moment. Truly vulnerable. He could have pulled the covers back, seen me, watched me laying there, done anything just then. “Ahhhh,” I felt myself cumming again. Incredible.
He was my brother, and I was disgusted with myself for thinking about his hands on me, the way I was thinking as I rubbed myself. Squeezing my thighs around my hand, and in particular felt guilty after I had an absolutely mind blowing orgasm, my fingers pressed deep inside myself – as I was imagining them to be his.
I quickly pulled on my short nightie bottoms, light green that went with my top. Not really thinking about it, but trying to be quick knowing he was waiting and not wanting him to come back up. MY body was utterly limp, and I smelled of sex. I went into the bathroom and attempted to wash up, and lightly padded down the stairs. He had the movie set up waiting to hit play.
He looked at me and I noticed him doing a double take.
“That what you are going to wear?” He said.
I looked down at myself, realizing how exposed I really was just then. It was very thin, very sheer. I realized that in this light he could see my rose colored nipples. The top rode up high so that you could see my midriff. I hadn’t put on any panties, my butt was totally visible. Shit. I wanted to be normal, rather than run back upstairs.
I said, “It’s what I was wearing.”
He looked at me some more, and answered, “Ok. It’s a little revealing.”
I was defensive when I said, “You’re my brother.”
He looked back to the TV, “You’re right. It’s fine.”
I still was not thinking clear, I knew it. I wanted to go up and get my robe, but once I sat down, I did not want to get up again. My pussy was clinging to my bottoms, I was still so soaking wet, and my hands literally felt numb. I was light headed. I still felt so aroused. I settled into the sofa and slid my legs up onto the cushion and curled my feet under, keeping my legs tight together, knowing how I was staining the crotch of my nightie, and that it was probably completely see through when wet.
The close call really scared me. After that I decided I had to be much more careful. But it also meant that the number of times I could engage in my sessions went down considerably. Safety meant less opportunity. And with the lack of access their intensity magnified. I kept trying to do more and more things, with my bindings and with my fantasies. I got some books to teach me tricks. I figured out ways to bind myself to my headboard while still being able to get loose. I learned the use of outdoor garbage bag ties, how they gave the feeling of tighter bondage but with the ability to break loose if needed.
My need for sexual release became something I thought about more and more, and without realizing it I was needing to be more extreme to get the same level of intensity. In particular, I found myself trying to recreate the feeling I had gotten the evening David walked into my room. It was very frustrating, and all combined I was a wreck. To make it even worse I had no one I could talk to.
I also realized that the time I was most alone was at night when I was sleeping. It got so I could not sleep at night unless I was bound in some fashion.
Before going to bed I got in the habit of harnessing each foot to foot boards, so that I lay spread eagle. I wanted them to be tight so that the ligature could be felt around my ankles, but not so tight that my feet would go numb. I wanted also to tie my hands in some fashion, but dared not to risk it. I felt safe with myself being spread eagle under my covers if David came in my room, and secretly hoped that he would. However, with my hands free it also meant I had access to masturbating, which took away some of the feeling of non control. I would resist for as long as possible but that was not the same thing, was it?
This was where eventually – and in the absence of David ever coming into my room – that I began to make use of the garbage ties, which could be cinched behind my back, or to the corners of my bed with some effort before binding my ankles to the foot boards. That was perfect. I lay spread eagle with my arms spread, unable to move my legs or turn and slightly uncomfortable with no access to touching myself in any way. Eventually I left a small pillow between my legs. Mmmmmm, perfect. In the black night I could maneuver myself so that it was that perfect hand on my body, touching and playing with me.
Some evenings I’d blindfold and gag myself, but in a manner I could get them off quickly and never slept that way. I kept needing more, I continued to test the tightness of the ligatures, pulling myself lower on the bed so that my legs would be pulled wider, and I began sleeping naked. I loved being naked when trussed.
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