blondzila

Kinetic
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2001-12-15 23:38:39 (UTC)

Surprise

Dinner was good. Simple, tasty. He'd been alluding off
and on all week we'd play, then during dinner, suggested we
hit a movie. I acquiesced, trying not to show my
disappointment. As we're putting the dishes in the dish
water he grabs my hand and takes me upstairs.

I asked a few times what was going on. No response. Just
the hurried pace to the bedroom.

He went into the walk in closet and took out the play bag.
I was shocked. Out came the collar, wrist cuffs, ankle
cuffs. He told me to go to the bathroom and go pee but to
get fully dressed again. I came back, somewhat confused,
very unsure, increasingly aroused.

He told me to put all the accoutrements on. I was wearing
a Henley shirt - kind of like an old fashioned long
underwear shirt, with a million little buttons up the
front. He undid them all, fumbling with a few, and asked
me "How's your inventory of bras?"

I pictured my nice flowered bra getting cut off, ripped
off. I was ambivalent. The image is extrememly erotic -
the power, the violence of it. But I liked the bra. I
said "it's fine".

He smiled, then took my wrists and clipped them together
behind my back. He took my shirt and pulled it down from
my shoulders roughly, and pulled my bra, still closed, down
to my waist. He then turned me around, threw me face down
on the bed.

I was wet immediately.

Then he laughed. "I forgot something," he chuckled and
told me to turn over. Have you ever tried to turn over
without using your arms for leverage? Very difficult.

Laughing, he helped me. Then I raised my hips up,
unbidden, and down went the jeans and panties, to just
below my knees. In that position were basically bound a
foot apart. Then he rolled me over again. I was panting.
He asked if I was okay, if I could breathe and I said yes,
quickly - it was excitement and fear, not lack of air - but
I didn't want to talk and I know he didn't want a detailed
explanation.

Out came the chain. He looped it between the clips on each
ankle and my wrists, effectively hogtying me.

Out next came the flogger. A few times on the back, likely
for ritual effect more than anything - the hits weren't
hard. Then he flipped me over, used the chain between each
wrist and ankle as I lay on my back. Shoved his fingers
in. Hard. I was close.

Then came his cock. I closed my eyes, feeling his weight
above me, in me. I asked, please...please...and he said
Yes, as if it was a foregone conclusion. I thought my head
was going to explode. I could feel the heat and warmth and
contractions around him. Then again, he shoved me, pushed
me, probed me, fucked me. No making love. No
sanctimonious bullshit tenderness - raw, real, hard, primal
fuck.

He pulled out, and undid the clips. He pulled me to a
standing position. Sat on the edge of the bed and asked me
to get on my knees. I took him, warm, scented, slick,
sticky, in my mouth. Wide, full, deep in my mouth. And I
could smell my scent, smell his sweat, taste his arousal,
feel his need. He was whispering - cursing me - take it
you slut, clean that dick you cunt - and I was wet further
still. He gripped the sides of my head and slowed my
strokes - my excitement was showing. I matched his rhythm
and he put his hands back on the bed. I could feel his
tension. I could feel it in the air like electricity
before a storm, the air before a hard rain.

He pulled me off him, and whispered - very sexy - don't
drop any. And I didn't.


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