Itâs always something special when my owner calls to tell me what time heâll be back home and that, by the time he arrives, I have to have just finished edging myself.
That's when I see him walk through the door, we share a kiss, and he pushes my underwear aside to check if I've been the good girl I always am.
Sometimes he asks me what I fantasized about to get to that edge, other times he just leaves me hanging and goes about his own business.
And on a few rare occasions, he gives me exactly what I love most in those moments: he lets me get down on my knees in front of him, pull his pants down to his ankles, and give him a burst of pleasure with my mouth while I finish myself off with my fingers.
It happened last Friday in a completely natural way. Me lying on the bed on my stomach, my hands immobilized with ropes behind my back, drooling on the sheets through my ball gag just the way my owner loves it. He was taking me from behind, my breathing quickening and intensifying, signaling how close I was to climax, when he gathered my hair at the nape of my neck with both hands and pulled me toward himself.
"You can only cum while I am pulling your hair."
And just as I was about to reach it, he let go of my hair and pulled out of me.
I will say that I am so used to my orgasms not being up to me that it's rare for me to get frustrated by being left right on the edge... But of course, what I didn't know was that this new rule was here to stay.
I have always liked it when my owner plays with my hair, brushes it, strokes it, or pulls it with a certain violence. But now itâs as if my hair has become my trigger. Knowing that my orgasms depend on direct interaction with it has changed my whole perception of it. Now, whenever my owner pays attention to it, I find myself closing my eyes, a smile tightening on my lips with desire and anticipation. And it is much worse when he asks me to open my legs and lets his hand disappear inside my panties... Any touch on my hair while he strokes me inside is so evocative that my sighs become much louder and more anxious...
I don't know how long I'll be like this, but I must confess that I like this new rule, and just the act of writing about it has left me quite wet...
"I don't think I'm going to gag you," I said aloud, thinking more to myself than to her. "That way, if you need anything, you can call me through Siri on speakerphone."
"You're always so cautious..." V grumbled with ostentatious resignation. "What could possibly happen to me in this hotel room? That you leave the door open and a stranger finds me like this? How terrible," she added ironically, moving her wrists and rattling her bonds above her head.
How different the two of us were, and yet, how beautifully the few things we had in common had united us. V was younger than me and very bold. Where I hesitated and saw risks, she only saw an opportunity to prove her worth. We were both submissives, each with our respective owner, and just as my respect and admiration for my Miss had made me sexually attracted to a woman for the first time, something similar had happened to her with me. My experiences, the way I narrated them, and my particular view of anything related to ropes had made her notice me in a special way. We still didn't know what our sexuality held for us regarding each other, but that hadn't stopped usâsharing submission and a nascent, newly born sexual attraction to people of our same sexâfrom quickly becoming something like accomplices. And I say "accomplices" in the truest sense of the word, because calling us simply "friends" wouldn't do justice to the whole truth.
Unintentionally, like someone who starts eating without being hungry and ends up devouring the plate because it's so delicious, we had forged a bond unlike any I had ever experienced with anyone else. One day, just messing around, fantasizing out loud, she was surprised to find out I knew about ropes, and I ended up tying her up at home to show her how it was done. Nothing out of this world, just something simple over the dress she was wearing. By the time I finished immobilizing her, V confessed that the whole thing had turned her onâand it had turned me on too, though I kept quiet at the time and wouldn't confess it to her until later. She asked me to lie down next to her on the bed, and I couldn't say no... Nothing else happened. We simply chatted about our things under those conditions, while she asked me to scratch her nose or brush an annoying strand of hair out of her face.
That brought us closeness. A lot of it. Neither of us had ever had a friend like this, and we were both thoroughly enjoying the experience. I didn't know if I was letting myself be carried away by her or if it was the other way around. I might have had more experience than her in certain aspects, but nothing daunted her, and if something crossed her mind, she would blurt it out, no matter what it was. Talking about our kinks openly had woven a trust between us that I liked very much, since I never talked to anyone about my sexuality. It didn't fluster me when she gave me a quick peck on the lips in one of those sudden impulses she often had, nor when she openly told me she wanted my lipsâboth the ones on my face and the ones between my thighsâto be the first of a woman that her tongue ever touched.
And so, through playful banter and spicy confessions, we found ourselves at that very moment in that hotel room. Her in that beautiful black lingerie set she had chosen, blindfolded, kneeling on the bed with her hands tied above her head. Me, making sure everything was perfect so that when her Sir walked into the room, he would find his submissive looking all pretty, like a gift for his perversions.
"Don't worry, if your owner wants to gag you, he has everything he needs to do it," I replied, scanning the room.
Truth be told, I had left everything looking quite beautiful and organized. Everything was elegantly arranged around her without taking away any of the spotlight she deserved for the evening. Ball gag, ring gag, and bit gag were on the left nightstand; a crop, whip, and clover clamps were at her feet on the floor; a butt plug, vibrator, and magic wand were on the right nightstand.
Taking her by the chin, I turned her head to examine her makeup in case it needed a touch-up, but no, everything was perfect. I adjusted her hair a bit where the blindfold had caught it, giving it a strange drape, and V was finally ready.
"I'm leaving your phone on your right," I said, placing the device on the mattress, ready to leave.
A restrained, mischievous smile appeared on V's face as she looked blindly in my direction.
"Oof... I feel a tingling between my legs," she confessed, as if she hadn't heard me or didn't care about what I had just said. "Don't you?"
I pressed my lips together. It was a rhetorical question, and we both knew it. It wasn't having her immobilized and helpless that turned me on about the situation. It turned me on to turn her on, and she knew that all too well.
"A lot? A little?" V wanted to know.
Given the privacy afforded by the fact that she couldn't see me, I acted without thinking, and my hand slid inside my skirt. With the other, I pushed my panties aside without taking them off, and with the tip of my middle finger, I probed a bit between my labia, only to find it sliding inside me without opposition. Yes, I was definitely wet... And I was convinced V was too.
Without saying a word, I brought my finger to her nose, and almost instantly, she realized what it was.
"Oh my god, you are so wet!" she said laughing, before blindly lunging to try to catch my finger with her mouth. But I was faster than her, pulling it away for just a moment only to place it back under her nostrils so she could keep smelling it. And so, amid both our laughter, poor V, snapping fruitlessly at the air, finally accepted that I wasn't going to let her lick my finger.
"I'm the same way," she assured me, making that pout she always made when trying to catch my attention, pulling her lips to one side of her face.
"Well, you stay just like that, gorgeous," I said, tickling her armpit a bit to tease her. "I'm leaving now. Enjoy yourself with your owner."
"Are you going to leave just like that? Without even giving me a goodbye kiss?"
What a flirt she was, but I couldn't deny that I loved the game we had going between us. So, to tease her just a little bit more, I planted a kiss on her cheek, leaving the color of my lipstick partially imprinted. That way, her owner would know exactly who her accomplice had been.
"That's how you kiss a mother, not a tied-up, blindfolded woman..." she objected rightly, and this time, to make her shut up a bit, I took her by the back of the neck and gave her a quick peck on the lips that lasted for a few seconds.
Greedy as she was, she quickly freed her tongue, trying to force her way into mine. I laughed mischievously with my lips tightly sealed, pulling away from her little by little, feeling her stretch forward as much as her bonds allowed, as if she didn't want to let me go.
"Pretend you don't want it all you want, but you're still turned on. You can try to fool me, but you can't fool your body," she told me.
And yes, V was right. I had told her before, but like so many other times, it had either gone in one ear and out the other, or she truly hadn't given it any importance at all. When it came to our relationship and my feelings toward her, I was being very careful about opening up emotionally... I am highly impulsive and reckless when I meet someone for the first time in my life and I'm really excited to get to know them, and that excessive effusiveness has caused me personal problems many times before...
But of course, that was what my reason dictated, and what my body was feeling at that moment was something completely different.
She was beautiful, she had a body that only an envious person would dare to criticize, we were united by our mutual and shared kinks, and she had openly told me time and time again that she wanted and desired something more from me than what I was giving her. I could try to rationalize it all a thousand and one times, but indeed, I couldn't fool my body, much less that pulsing sensation taking root inside my sex...
"A la mierda," I muttered in my native Spanish.
And, letting my emotions take absolute control over me, my lips rushed onto hers.
Saliva, lipstick, mouths, and tongues melted into one in a shared outburst. It was a thirsty kiss; we breathed haphazardly of each other's breath through that fierce, unleashed passion, while our bodies expressed themselves in a way that words alone never could. We gave each other no quarter. I wrapped one hand around her waist, pulling her body tight against mine, and with the other, I rid myself of my annoying panties, kicking them down to my ankles. I wanted to come; my owner always gave me the green light as long as I reached climax with other women, and that was exactly what I was going to do.
The instant my caresses fell upon my button of pleasure, I kissed her, seeking to gag myself with her tongue. My moans began to echo in her mouth, mingling with the giggles she let out from sheer surprise. She could feel the frantic movements of my hand; she knew all too well what was happening and returned the kiss enthusiastically.
I turned my head a bit to catch my breath while she, blindly, kept searching for my mouth with hers. A tremor shook my legs, and I clung to her like someone holding onto a life jacket. Her tongue found mine again, but it lay limp, lacking the strength to dance along with hers, while I gasped and groaned, my sex convulsing until it dissipated into a slow, gentle effervescence.
V laughed exultantly, and I laughed tiredly. It had been very, very good...
I pulled away from her and saw that her beautiful, partially covered face was stained and smeared with our lipsticks, and with a smile, I turned to the room's mirror to discover that my face looked exactly the same. As if in a daze, I couldn't quite process the words V was saying to me, and that mischievous spirit of mine that surfaces at times like these burst forth with sudden spontaneity. I gathered my things and left without saying a word while wiping my face. Hers would stay like that, marked with our passion, so her owner would know exactly what had happened before enjoying his submissive however he pleased.
Leaning over the bathroom mirror, I had just finished drawing my eyeliner. We were already dressed and ready to go to the Asian restaurant I loved so much. But then, you appeared in the reflection. That smile boded no good. You brushed my hair aside and buried your lips into my neck. Wrapping one hand around me from behind, you slid it down the neckline of my dress to ruthlessly squeeze one of my breasts. Left without a bra just as you had ordered, it was absolute bliss. Then you showed me a pair of my panties, letting them dangle right in front of me. I was surprised; you had told me that you wanted me wearing no underwear for tonightâs date.
"Put them in your mouth."
I opened my mouth, but only to protest. I had made the reservation at the restaurant myself a few days ago, and this smelled like a radical change of plans. But I obeyed. Then, using the roll of tape, you sealed my mouth with them inside. You brought my hands behind my back, bound them, and spun me around violently. Without a word, your hand vanished beneath the skirt of my dress, and you only needed to touch me with a single finger to check the effectiveness of the gag. And you caressed me, and you fondled me, and I, trembling, buried my face and hair into your chest while writhing and whimpering, trapped between your body and the wall. In my state, I was barely aware that you had pulled out your phone and brought it to your ear.
"I'm calling to cancel my girlfriend's reservation for tonight. Unfortunately, she won't be able to make it," you said, at the exact moment you made your finger disappear inside me.
I remember the first time I saw it was in Pulp Fiction when I was very little, a movie I watched with my older brothers (they didn't care at all whether the movies they watched were suitable for someone my age; they would simply tell me to close my eyes and cover my ears if I didn't like what was happening on the screen, which I did quite often). The scene where it appears, which I think is known to everyone, isn't exactly the best way to be introduced to this type of gagâor at least it wasn't for me. If I kept my eyes open, it was because I wanted to understand what that thing in their mouth was.
Later on, older but not by much, while discovering and developing my fascination with damsels in distress and ropes, was when I realized the wide presence of ball gags in the scene, and these, once and for all, began to catch my attention the way they do now. How would it feel inside my mouth? Would it really silence me? Would it be comfortable? These were some of the questions I asked myself as I watched models wearing them over and over again.
Many years would pass before I dared to buy the one that, to this day, is still with me. It was the second time I went into that kind of shop (the first time was to buy that type of toy with such a masculine shape; not for my own pleasure, but to improve my skills with my mouth and throat). Given my lack of information and my shyness, I chose the medium size and the model I had seen so many times: red ball, black strap. And as it turned out, it fit me like a glove.
The ball gag spent a few days hidden deep in my closet, waiting for my parents and brothers to leave the house and leave me alone. During all that time, I remember I couldn't stop looking at it and stroking it, getting familiar with the buckle. I was nervous and excited about my new acquisition.
When there was finally no one home, I remember locking the front door from the inside and leaving the keys in, taking the gag out of the closet, standing in front of the mirror, opening my mouth, and bringing it to my lips. And I especially remember two sensations: the surprise that it didnât bother me at all and, above all, how pretty it made me feel... I ended that afternoon by tying my ankles together, my panties pulled down to them, and touching myself until I gave myself an orgasm while fantasizing that my boyfriend at the time was making love to me in that condition.
Later on, once the excitement of the new toy had worn off, was when I started messing around with my ball gag in other ways. Tightening the buckle to the max at the back of my neck and trying to get it off (spoiler: you can always get it off), trying to hold saliva in my mouth for as long as possible, speaking with it on to see if I could be understood (you can enunciate quite well, I can make myself understood with it on), and things like that.
Accidentally on purpose, it ended up becoming my favorite gag. At first, I think it was because it keeps my mouth open and filled at the same time. Having my mouth open makes me feel more vulnerable, like when I can't close my legs due to restraints, and at the same time, feeling that, even though it's open, my mouth is plugged is simply something delicious and very difficult to describe... Over the coming years, I would develop my fascination with drooling. It was something I learned while performing oralities to men. At first, I always strained to keep the saliva inside my mouth while satisfying them with it, until I realized that leaving them smeared and wet turned them on even more. In that way, and hand in hand with my current owner, I began to enjoy those strings or streams running down between the ball and my lower lip; I began to enjoy seeing how my owner's face changed the moment a string ran down my neck or abruptly hit one of my breasts. And of course, turning someone on turns me on...
Today, we have two other ball gags. The second one we bought is bigger and black with a black strap as well. This one we rarely use, only occasionally (very few times) as a punishment and never for long. We simply got carried away, both him and me, and instead of buying one the same size but a different color, we bought it bigger. To get it between my teeth requires a lot of pushing, and once I have it in, my jaw is stretched so wide that the pressure I feel in my jawbone is too much for me to tolerate. It's almost wedged in, and spitting it out on my own without using my hands takes a massive effort.
The other one we have comes with a head harness and, having learned our lesson about sizing from the previous one, we bought it suited to my mouth. I don't care much for the harness itself; feeling the black leather straps passing slightly over my eyes and under my jaw doesn't thrill me too much. But there are two things I do love about it: the D-ring at the top, which allows for additional immobilization that partly reminds me of a hair tie but with the pressure distributed across the whole head instead of just the scalp; and that, this time, it is practically impossible for me to remove without the help of my hands. If the straps are tight enough, the most I can do is push it just past my teeth a bit, but nothing moreâand my regular readers already know how much I adore feeling truly helpless.
