We met him, my owner and I, at the bar we usually go to. We’re always at the counter, enjoying the pleasant conversation of the owner and any other “stool companion,” as we call anyone who, in that setting, feels like socializing with us.
I liked him from the start, and he had me won over for two particular reasons: he never used bad words, and he always wore clean, impeccable shoes. We never arranged to meet him as such, we’d just run into each other now and then, until with so much contact came affection, and eventually, we exchanged phone numbers. In fact, I think he started frequenting the bar precisely because of us, but I’ve never asked him. Some things are better left to the imagination, no need to ruin everything with cold reality, right?
It was my owner who, one day at home, after sharing more than a couple of drinks with him that afternoon, dropped the bomb.
“Would you like him to fuck you?”
I’d be lying if I said the question took me by surprise. I had a feeling something was coming. In our bondage agreement, we’ve established that my owner can share me sexually with another man of his choosing, as long as the initiative comes from him, not from me, and I accept the proposition. Up until that point, I’d only had two such experiences. The first was when I comforted one of his friends, whose girlfriend had just dumped him that week, with oral sex. The second was when I masturbated both my owner and a guest at home.
I enjoyed both experiences and, most importantly, they’d been gradual. I like pushing my limits little by little because I’m a bit of a coward, and even though there are things I’ve always wanted to try sexually, I only feel confident doing them if I’ve climbed step by step.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked, convinced that he wanted to take me a bit further than usual.
“I think he’s the right one for that fantasy of yours,” he said, pausing far too long for my liking. “The one where I tie you up so another man can enjoy you.”
I smiled instantly. Yes, he was a very good candidate. I found him attractive and kind, and since I didn’t know him well enough to call him a friend, the distance between us made me feel comfortable with the idea that a sexual encounter wouldn’t necessarily change our budding relationship.
“Besides, this way you could do that thing you’ve always told me you’d like, your secret calling card.”
How could I not adore that big-hearted owner and boyfriend of mine when he always thinks of everything?
“If you want, I’ll give him a call and see when the three of us can meet, so your magic can flow,” he added.
And the following week, we met him again. Same place, at our usual time. The meeting was like any other, except I had dressed up a bit more than usual. We had lots of laughs and good conversation until my owner left us alone for a moment, going outside to take a “call.” Seeing the bar owner was busy, I seized the chance.
“Come with me for a moment, I have something to give you now that we’re alone.”
We moved to one of the tall tables at the back, and carried away by the urgency that nervous excitement brings, I grabbed a napkin and, covering myself with my other hand, wrote the following:
“Call me to put it back where it belongs.”
I reached behind me, discreetly slipped my hand under my skirt, moved my thong aside, and pulled out the small metal butt plug I’d been wearing all evening. I wrapped it in the napkin and, under the table, placed it in his hand.
The secrecy of my gesture made him act covertly as well. After glancing at my invitation, his expression changed completely. He froze, staring at me wide-eyed, lips shaping a word he either couldn’t find or didn’t dare to say.
“Shall we go, Hécuba? I’ve already paid.”
My owner, who had gone outside only for show, was already back. We said our goodbyes and left, allowing him to process what had happened in the privacy of his own space.
Less than three days later, I got his call. I detected no nervousness in his voice, and I liked that. He suggested going to an exhibition, but I had a much better plan: next Friday, at such-and-such hotel, 8:00 p.m. He just had to ask for the key at reception.
The imaginative preparations my owner and I planned for that Friday kept my heart racing all week, as nervous and excited as a kid awaiting Christmas morning. And, needless to say, very aroused.
When the day came, my owner and I arrived at the hotel room well in advance and began setting the scene.
I dressed in nothing but sheer black lingerie: corset with garter belt, matching panties, stockings, and my hair tied in a ponytail as an obvious signal. My owner tied me with red ropes. It was a simple, aesthetic, and not overly restrictive bondage, since I intended to stay tied the whole evening. Wrists behind my back, a chest tie with rope passing between my breasts to enhance them, and ankles and knees bound together.
While I was already lying tied on the bed, my owner set the final stage props: neatly arranged on the nightstand were various sex toys (magic wand and satisfyer) and lube. Beside my head on the bed, he placed a red ball gag, a black blindfold that could also serve as a gag, and a roll of black cohesive tape. He gave me a light kiss so as not to mess my makeup and left. He took the room key with him and left my phone within reach in case of emergency, so I could call him via Siri. But we were sure everything would go smoothly.
I don’t know how long I stayed on the bed, enjoying the bondage. It felt wonderful to be like that, so sexy. Ropes make women more beautiful, you know? I couldn’t stop looking at myself in the mirrored wardrobe, wearing that mischievous, restrained smile that only appears at the right corner of my lips in moments like that. I loved how I looked and felt, and my pussy was already scented with anticipation and wetness.
I jumped when the room’s magnetic lock beeped. The guest had no idea what he’d find upon entering. From our experience, bondage is something everyone’s heard of, but not something everyone’s tried. We also believe that if you try it just once, done well, you’ll always want it in your life. Which group would he fall into?
“Hi,” I greeted before we even made eye contact, announcing my presence.
Our eyes met. First, I saw surprise and confusion. Then, desire. Finally, he took in the whole scene and began to process it. He was nervous, but he hid it well. I was certain this was the first time in his life he’d seen well-done bondage in person.
“Your boyfriend knows about this,” he said first, proving he could read between the lines. It was obvious, who else could have left me like this for him?
“Yes, and we both agree,” I added, biting my lower lip and turning slightly toward him.
He half-smiled, put his hands on his hips, and stared at me silently. Then, he began undressing quickly. His cock was already hard.
“No rush, don’t hurry. I’m not going anywhere,” I pointed out, emphasizing the obvious. “You have all night to enjoy me.”
I turned to show him my back and tucked my knees to my chest, offering him my ass.
“Did you bring what I gave you the other day?”
“Yes, I have it right here.”
I turned my head just enough for him to see the smile on my face.
“But I don’t know if I should give it back to you now or later,” he teased.
I changed position, pretending to pout.
“Don’t you dare think about what you’re thinking,” I said as I crawled closer to the edge of the bed. “Tonight, I offer you my mouth and my pussy, and that should be enough.”
By now, he was down to his underwear, and I stretched my neck to catch the tip of his cock through the fabric with my teeth.
“If we meet again, I promise you’ll have all of me,” I said, pulling back for a moment to look up at him. “But we’ll see how well you behave today, okay?”
Without waiting for a reply, I began tugging at his boxers with my teeth, trying unsuccessfully to pull them off. Driven by desire, he quickly removed them himself.
“Put the plug in me first.”
I like getting bossy when I’m tied up. It’s an automatic switch that sometimes flips, being cheeky and demanding to push my owner into gear. Let’s see how this one would react.
He knew what he was doing. After a generous squirt of lube on the metal plug, he rolled me over, pulled my panties halfway down, and gently slid it into my ass. It went in easily, it was small and comfortable.
Struggling against the ropes, I lunged at his cock, swallowing it whole in one slow, steady movement. With my nose pressed against his lower belly, I let it rest comfortably in my mouth, swelling even more, before pulling back. With it now out of my mouth, I smiled at him, a string of drool hanging from my lower lip.
“I love it,” I said, grabbing my feet with my hands, imagining I was tied in a hogtie.
I kissed the tip, trapped his glans between my teeth, and began flicking my tongue at his slit, gently but quickly. I love the texture of that fleshy lollipop: smooth, firm, meaty, and soft. After a while of giving his cock tender attention, I felt his hand grip my ponytail, and I knew exactly what he wanted. So I let him set the pace in an intense, rhythmic thrusting that left me covered in drool.
“Don’t you dare come before fucking me,” I warned during a breath. From his grin, he’d been thinking the same.
He threw me onto the pillow, untied my legs to make me more accessible, yanked off my panties, and guided his cock to my pussy.
“Gag me, when I'm bein fucked I moan a lot and very loudly” I told him, egging him on.
It didn’t surprise me that out of all the gags, he chose the ball gag. What did surprise me was the force with which he shoved the rubber ball between my teeth and tightened the strap before buckling it. Finally. Finally, he’d had enough of my orders. Now he was going to fuck me properly.
With one hand, he spread my pussy lips and pressed the tip of his cock at my entrance. Just a bit inside was enough for him to slide all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion. My first moan came out muffled by the gag.
“Fuck me hard,” I said, surprisingly understandable through the ball. It was sheer bliss to feel the plug and his cock pressing against each other inside me.
And he didn’t hesitate. He grabbed my feet, forcing me into an L position, resting my ankles on his shoulders, his hands on either side of my head, his balls smacking my ass with every thrust.
“Harder! Harder!” I screamed, gagged, eyes glazed with pleasure.
He clenched his teeth, locked eyes with me, and, with a mix of rage and passion, grabbed the black blindfold from the bed, pressing it tightly over the ball gag, silencing me even more brutally. The corners of my mouth ached, the ball and blindfold turning my gasps into ragged breaths, and his cock pounded my pussy with violent thrusts.
As often happens, I squirted a little as a prelude to orgasm. From the way his face twisted, I knew he’d noticed. (It’s barely anything, real life isn’t like a porn video; most of the time, it just feels like extra lubrication.) He looked down at my crotch, pulled out as if expecting something, then met my gaze again. I winked in confirmation. Whether from surprise or something else, he loosened the blindfold pressing over my gag, and I growled in protest. That brought back his strength. It fueled him. He flipped me into missionary and fucked me hard, as if it were a punishment.
By the time he was panting like crazy, I was already spent, eyes half-closed, savoring the orgasm slowly fading in my core. His climax came soon after, filling my womb like a gentle caress. Then he collapsed beside me.
Working my jaw to ease the ache, I began to laugh, a reflex I have after good sex. A full, satisfied, exhausted laugh.
Curious, he removed my gag, and I swallowed easily again.
“On my face…” I said, sore and breathless. “You should have come on my face…”
And I crawled to snuggle beside him.
We stayed like that for a long while, sharing our ragged breathing, until he got up and returned from the bathroom with tissues to clean his cum from me. Everything was going perfectly, alternating fierce passion with attentive care for his submissive.
He wanted to untie me, but I quickly stopped him, squirming and giving him a reproachful look.
“I like being like this, completely in your hands.”
He stared, stunned, not knowing what to say.
“Would you bring me some water?”
My owner always says there’s something very romantic and beautiful about helping me drink or eat when I’m tied up, and I completely agreed. I loved it. I felt cared for.
“We could order dinner from room service,” he suggested, reclining me in his arm while giving me water with his free hand.
I smiled in agreement. It sounded perfect. He had already realized I didn’t want our evening to ever end.
The insinuation. Dancing with words, looking for my dominant Just how I used to flirt in a Saturday night
What is bondage to me? A biography disguised as a question. Self explicative.
The (non bondage) Task. A pleasant afternoon with my owner.
Una triste y fea historia de bondage que no va a gustar a nadie Only in Spanish.
Ethics and handjobs I like to do the right.
I collect lingerie What I love about lingerie
Bondage Detox part 2. Playing my cards. Trying to change my owner's mind about my punshiment.
Bondage Agreement. How my owner and I rule our relationship.
Bondage Detox part 1. When I was punished to not to be tied up.
Hogtied Endurance. My longest hogtied until that moment.
My first Sunday on Tumblr. I blogged tied up and gagged.
Not just an ordinary afternoon
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