Whispers

I’ve got my male lover tied to a hook in the ceiling of my room. Stripped buck-ass naked and hands held high over head; he is a hairy beast glaring down at my demur figure. But he’s rock hard. I make sure he stays that way with a quick flick of a tongue over his cock every now and then; sometimes I give him a real treat a suck on the swollen, salty head. His knees buckle with every touch, and I know he wants more.

I run a hand over his quivering shaft as he shifts position, relieving the ball of one foot for a moment while other takes his weight; the hook is too high for him to have both feet on the ground. I want him to feel as vulnerable as I do when he wraps his arms around me.

I take a crop from the drawer behind him, but the bed behind his knees keeps from turning to see what I’m doing.

“How does a bit of leather sound to my lover?” I call quietly from the corner by the dresser.

He doesn’t know what’s happened when I lay the first resounding smack against his fleshy thigh. A spot, red and hot, presents itself proudly to me. It’s sexy, that one sitting all by itself. I hit it again, just to be sure he can feel it, and this time he cries out for me. A small sound, but I’ll make it double, triple, quadruple before the day is out.

A matching mark is made on his other thigh. Next comes his bum, where I create a checker board pattern across the tender flesh, made softer still by the sweat rolling from the small of his back. Each blow buckles his knees as he hops from foot to foot, his cock swinging in the movement. I’m sure that if his balls could turn blue, they would the purest known to mankind.

I come around to face him, all innocence and black lace. On my knees, I gaze up at him from around his cock. “Who were you saying was a bitch?” I coo with a small smile on my lips before landing the crop against the side of his thigh. I sit up enough to wrap my lips around his throbbing flesh, tasting the salty tang of precum and sweat. But before I can work him up any farther we’re interrupted.

I hear the front door open and close, followed by the melodious call of my lover and partner. She wasn’t supposed to be home from hours yet, but here she is, walking down the hall to the bedroom.

A look tells the man he will remain quiet, lest he raise my fury further still. On my way to stand behind the door I grab a length of rope, black pattern with green and purple threads. It is soft and smooth to the touch: perfect for cuff-and-leash I’m creating while we wait.

The doorknob turns and she opens it to see him nearly suspended from our ceiling. Her full, pink lips form a surprised little “Oh!” as she stops half way into the room. At that moment, I push her face-first onto the bed and slip one of the loops around her wrist, pulling tight. She struggles beneath my knee, but I have one arm pulled up perpendicular with the rope around its wrist and the other nearly in my grasp. As I latch on to her other wrist with my free hand, I wrestle it to the small of her back and secure it with the remaining cuff loop. A flick of my hand to tighten the cuff and she is mine to be led around by the leash.

She looks up at from against the bedspread me with a startled tear in her eye and a run of mucus from her nose. Leading her over to the dresser, I tie her hands to one of my toy drawers; it’s locked in place, so she can’t pull herself free. I know how crafty and mischievous she is, too, so I make sure to secure her thumbs in the knot. It wouldn’t do for her to escape during a crucial moment. Her dark make-up has smudged ever so slightly, so I make a quick detour to the bathroom for a tissue.

With her face clean and the tear gone, I lean in to kiss her but am met with cold, disinterested lips. A quick smack sees to it that she responds to my affection. I smile at her in approval and return to my attention back to the man in our room as a hand print rises against her pale cheek.

I lean in to suck his nipple — something he doesn’t know how to respond to. He doesn’t know whether to enjoy the sensations flowing from this tiny surface or squirm and protest. I turn his torso so that I can look at my female lover, tied in the far corner. She looks confused, almost hurt, but hot for it at the same time.

I smack his ass with a bare palm as a departing blow before pulling lips and teeth away from his nipple. I want my partner naked and wet for me. While he waits, he is expected to stay ready for my return.

I pick up a small paring knife on my way back to the dresser. With it held between my teeth, I kneel in front of her. The skirt is a quick fix: unzip, unhook and slow slide. I am pleasantly surprised to find she took the garters today, the ones with the tiny ribbon roses above the straps. I leave that, her rich red stockings, and matching satiny underwear on in favor of seeing what bra she chose for work.

The button-up silk shirt is a slow, agonizing process, both for her and me. Before I begin unbuttoning it, I place my knife on the dresser behind her and lean in to kiss her neck, willing presented to my eager lips. I leave light red prints whereever I go. I find that spot, right over her pulse, and tease her with it. By the time I finally reach up for the first button, she is panting lightly and leaning into my body. She tries to wrap a leg around my waist, but I gently push it away in favor of her keeping her own footing. With the second button undone, I can hear my man moaning in pleasure in the background, longing to be a part of whatever has brought such pleasure to my lovely lady. By the third button, she is trying desperately to keep herself from rubbing her hips against me; she knows it would displease me and send me back to the man. Four, five, six buttons and I have reach the collar where she wears and old-fashioned, rose-like tie from the ’80s. I abandon her neck and ears in favor of caressing and kissing her stomach; it is something she dislikes, herself, but finds infinite pleasure in my attraction to its soft, round flesh. I tease a tongue beneath the underwire of her red bra, a match to her underwear and stockings. I slip a hand around her waist and press into the small of her back, pinning her against the front of my body as I press a passionate kiss to her lips. This time I met with equal passion without prompting, but I reach down with my free hand and smack her tight anyway. She cries out into my mouth and shivers against me. It is all it takes to start getting me wet, as well, for I know she will please me to my heart’s content in due time.

I pull away completely from her, leaving her with eyes clouded over in lust and body aching of my touch, to return to my man. All that he has heard behind him has kept him hard for me, his cock still swaying each time he changes feet.

I pull a stool over and get up to his eye level, something I keep around for this very purpose. I glance at my lady over his shoulder, seeing her jealousy and lust, and lean in to kiss him with my eyes still locked with hers. She grimaces, repulsed, yet still wanting my lips on hers and covering her body.

I reach down a stroke his cock, catching it in a sway toward my open palm a wrapping cool fingers around the wide shaft. His eyes flutter in pleasure as he sighs quietly into our kiss. I turn my eyes to his as I pull away from our embrace and just play with the tip of his dick. It is warm and soft, pleasant to feel as it pulses gently in my grasp.

The stool is wide enough that I can spread my feet to either side of his current stance. This opens my legs up all the way to my cunt, as yet untouched by any flesh. I’m wet and pulsing with my own lust as I bend my knees. I kiss his neck, chest, pausing to suckle each nipple, as I make my way down his body. I stop when I feel the tip of his head against my outer lips. With his cock still in my grasp, I rock it slowly back and forth to bounce between touching one lip and the other. His head falls back with pleasure in the promise of entering the moist warmth I keep between my thighs. “Please,” he manages despite his strain position. “Please, please,” he continues. But I release him and he sags a little in his bonds.

I step down from the stool and walk back to my lady. I rip the old tie from her throat and throw it on the bed. I can fix whatever damages the movement has done to it later. Right now, though, I reach around her hip and grab my knife. I raise it to her throat and cute the thread of the last button. A flick of the round tip send one shoulder cascading down her arm to stop at her tied wrist while my free hand slowly pushes the other arm of the shirt, caressing her soft flesh all the while. I reach down with my knife and slip it between the satin barrier and her pussy, taking care not to catch sweet flesh or hair as the tip emerges from the other side of the satin as she spreads her legs for me. I find the seam with the edge of the knife, my eyes holding hers, and cut it. The lose flap falls silently against the dresser as I quickly open a drawer, dispose of my knife, and close it again. Now my hand is free to search between her legs, following the slick line of arousal already creeping down one leg. I pass her outer lips, so full and swollen with desire no amount of spread in her legs could separate them, to stop just below her clit. The hard touch of it tells me it would be white-tipped and ready for orgasm, should I desire. But I want her begging me for it.

I kiss her again, thrusting my tongue between her teeth to coax her tongue into a dance. She responds in kind, whimpering from the feel of my tongue plunge inside her body while my fingers trace tantalizing circles around the entrance to her most intimate of crevices. She catches me by surprise, however, and thrusts down with her hips. What had been a game of torment is now her pleasure as her body sheaths my fingers.

I pull away from her, step back, and slap her across the face with the hand I had put in her vagina. A new pink mark raises against her skin, covered by her wetness.

My boy has managed to contort himself enough to see us, I discover, as I turn to go back to him. He is quick to turn around though. I turn back to my partner and reach around to untie the knot holding her to the dresser. I unhook her front-clasping bra and send in dangling with her shirt around her hands as she steps out of her skirt and underwear.

Pulling her with me, she stumbles backwards until we reach the man tied to out ceiling. Since he wants to watch me fuck my lover so badly, I tell him, he can turn around watch us in the comfort of our bed.

I throw her onto our bed while leaving him to figure out how to turn enough to watch us.

This entry was posted on Sunday, November 15th, 2009 at 10:50 pm and is filed under Fantasies.