Blinded and Bound

(A few weeks back I asked what you fine folk would like to see here. Spring Flower requested a story on blindfolds and binding, so without further ado....)


God, I can't believe the cliches, she thought. Heart fluttering like a bird trapped in a cage -- check. Blood rushing to my face -- check. Trembling like a leaf in the wind -- check. Wetness trickling down my thighs -- definitely check. Why is it this is affecting me so much?

Maybe it has something to do with the shock of it all. I wanted him to surprise me the next time he was feeling frisky, but didn't expect anything like this!

"This" was a dead-eyed, austere husband, who met her at the door after a long day at work. "This" was him ordering her coldly to "get those fucking clothes off, now." "This" was him ripping the shirt off her back and using a knife to cut her panties free when she wasn't fast enough to suit him. "This" was him snapping a dog collar round her neck, pulling her by its chain to the bedroom, and looping the chain through a ringbolt in the wall over the bed.

"This" was him locking two fur-lined handcuffs around her wrists and shackling those to the bed's headboard. "This" was him pulling her legs rudely apart, and more shackles around her ankles; shackles that went to the corner bedposts.

"This" was him standing there, observing her clinically, drinking in her mingled fear and delight -- how far, precisely, would he take things? "This" was him reaching into the bedside drawer and bringing forth a soft velvet cloth, then lifting her head gently, sweetly, but relentlessly. "This" was him wrapping the cloth twice round her head, over eyes and ears, cutting off most sound and all light and vision.

"This" was her breath coming hard and fast. "This" was her tongue, moving nervously over suddenly dry lips. "This" was the slow hot pulse between her legs, the throbbing beat which was already increasing in intensity. "This" was the beads of sweat forming on her shivering skin. "This" was the growing wet spot beneath her as her excitement trickled down the insides of her thighs and soaked the bed below.

"This" was her voice, begging in a cracked and broken tone she'd never heard from herself before. "This" was his own cold tone in response, faded through the muffling cloth, moving around the bed, taunting her as her blinded head whipped back and forth, trying to follow him. "This" was the epithets he was using on her, scoring her psyche as surely as if he were cutting her with a flechette: Slut. Whore. Cunt. Tramp. "This" was the flood of emotion those words brought forth -- the expected rush of guilt and shame, but also a dirty pleasure, a secret pride at being so well and truly Named.

"This" was him trailing his fingers over her trembling body, whisperlight caresses at odds with his harsh words. Playing gentle circles over her belly, her nipples, her breasts. Tangling in her hair for a quick, sharp pull that brought tears to her eyes, then soothing the hurt away with more caresses on her face. "This" was her suckling eagerly at his fingers as they crossed her lips; "this" was him admonishing her "no" with a gentle smack on her cheek; "this" was him leaning in to place soft kisses and licks all over her writhing body.

"This" was him suddenly invading her cunt with his fingers, thrusting hard, rudely, with no finesse. "This" was his thumb dancing gently on her clit, somehow perfectly in tune with the throbbing of her pussy, at odds with the seemingly untutored fingers. "This" was her gasping and shuddering, wracked with pleasure, moaning his name. "This" was her hips bucking upward to meet his plundering hand, traitor body awakened by his ministrations. "This" was his mouth now replacing his thumb, his tongue lashing over her clit relentlessly, driving her hard and fast towards orgasm.

"This" was the disappointment she felt when he halted suddenly, fingers yanked free, mouth and tongue pulling back just short of tipping her over. "This" was the howl of anguish that burst from her till her throat was raw. "This" was him covering her mouth with his own, stubble rasping against her, bruising her with the savagery of his assault. "This" was his body weight coming down hard upon her, denim shirt brushing roughly against her hard nipples, making her moan into his mouth. "This" was him driving upward, forward, into her, stretching and filling her till her eyes rolled and turned helplessly beneath the stifling blindfold.

"This" was a relentless, hard rhythm. "This" was sensation so pure it made her brain burn and her soul sear. "This" was him biting at her nipples, lightly at first, then harder when she whimpered and thrust her tits harder into his mouth. "This" was their bellies smacking hard against each other in a quickening beat. "This" was her silent cry as her cunt clamped around him in clenching approval. "This" was his animalistic grunting as he fucked her harder and harder. "This" was him sitting up, grabbing her thighs tightly enough to leave marks, using them to pull her against him. "This" was her monotonous chant of "yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah" as he plundered her. "This" was her orgasm exploding through her like a bomb, a nova rushing outward from her liquid center all the way to her tingling fingertips and toes. "This" was him pounding into her, longer, faster, harder still. "This" was him pulling back, out of her, then working his cock feverishly, splattering jets of his cum all over her sweaty body: belly, tits, chest, neck, one or two droplets even on her face.

"This" was her breathing hard and heavy when at last he'd finished coating her. "This" was him disappearing for a long minute, then returning with a soft towel. "This" was her whispered "thank you", seemingly unheard as he cleansed her with the towel and caressed her body's curves lovingly.

"This" was a benediction, a coda, as he pulled the blindfold free and unlocked her shackles, but left the collar round her neck. "You're welcome, my love," he murmured against her throat as he lay close, enfolding her in warmth, brushing away the tears that were starting to flow now.

-- PB