Making Up For Lost Time

I slide my hands down his chest, covered in rubber and lube. I check the chains securing his hands to his upper thighs. A gentle tug on each one. A whimper from him. My slick hand slides against the latex, across his stomach, down his legs, everywhere but that gorgeous hard cock.

I carefully kneel in front of him. I’ve been edging him for hours with the e-stim. Tied tightly to the chair in the living room. Gas mask on for most of that time. He must be exhausted. It’s terribly mean of me to make him stand for this.

It’s been two weeks. Two very long weeks. He’s been traveling, and we’ve had to satisfy ourselves with long phone calls and text messages. For two weeks.

I lick my lips and slide my mouth around his cock. At first I just gently tease him with my tongue, but then I slide my lips back, all the way to the tip, before greedily swallowing him up again. He gasps and moans.

I eventually flick the switch to the estim, bringing it back to life, a wave of current running through his balls as my mouth slides up and down his cock. Every now and then a hint of teeth graze his overly sensitive skin and he moans and shudders. He pulls at the chains holding his hands against his thighs and squirms. I go down all the way, the tip of his cock hitting the back of my throat, before smacking his ass and pulling off of him entirely.

“No moving, slave,” I growl.

He whimpers. “Sorry, mistress.”

I swallow his cock again and turn up the estim. It’s suddenly almost too much for him to handle. His cock stiffens and I know if I don’t ease up he’ll cum.

But I don’t let him. I ease up on my assault and let him come back down from the cliff edge of orgasm. I do this to him five more times.

I shut off the estim entirely, removing all of it, before I finally get up from my position on the floor. My knees are sore. I’m sore and tired, but so proud of my rubber boy enduring what I’ve put him through. Of what I still plan to put him through tonight. I’ve missed him dearly.

I take some water in my mouth and pass it to him. It’s the closest we’ve come to kissing all night, and it’s agony to not ravage his mouth. He greedily drinks up the water and I give him more in this way until the glass is empty.

I guide him to the bed and help him lie down. I remove the restraints from his thighs and lock his hands to the top of the bed, then secure his feet to the bottom.

I grab the bottle of mint lube and generously apply it to his cock, causing him to gasp. “That’s so mean,” he whines.

I slip my had around his throat and lean in close to his ear, my breath hot against the latex hood encasing his head as I chuckle. “No, it’s not, slave,” I say,”but what I’m about to do will be…”

I straddle his hips and slowly slide down on his cock. He gasps and whimpers. The cold of the minty lube, the stretch of his cock in me after two long weeks, almost makes me gasp. His hips rock up to meet mine and I don’t admonish him for moving this time. No, I welcome it.

I ride him hard, pausing frequently to tease him, frustrating him even further. He’s so close now that it wouldn’t take much more. And finally, finally I give in. I let him give in.

He cums hard, buried in me, shuddering with pleasure. He gasps for breath. It’s all over. All the torture is over.

But it’s not. I have to restrain myself from moving to unbuckle his restraints, from removing the latex mask and gently kissing him, stroking his hair. I’m not finished with him just yet.

I do unlock his hands from the top of the bed. I take the chain I had used and wrap it around his neck, securing it with a lock, transforming it into a snug collar and leash.

He freezes. He wasn’t expecting this. “What are you doing?” he says in his more normal voice, just beginning to slip out of the submissive persona he was inhabiting a minute earlier.

I have to reassert my authority, inform him that he’s still my rubber boy. I clamp a hand down over his mouth. “I’m not done with you yet, slave,” I growl.

He swallows hard and nods before I remove my hand. I crawl up his body and straddle his head, a knee on either side. I reach behind me to grab the makeshift leash and I tug up, pulling his face into my dripping cunt.

I barely have a chance to utter my orders — “clean up that mess you made,” I command — and his tongue is already hard at work.

He gets off easy this time, though. I’m so wired from the last several hours that it doesn’t take much effort for the first waves of an orgasm to come crashing down on me.

It’s been two very long weeks, and we’re just beginning to make up for lost time.

What I do when I’m a little drunk and M’s not home…

There has been more than one occasion when I’ve been out drinking with friends, and I come back to M’s place afterward when he’s out of town. I usually end up texting him or calling him, but I also have been known to do some pretty kinky things with only one or two drinks in me.

The first time that happened I ended up in a latex catsuit.

Another time I ended up wearing a mask and latex heels.

And yet another time I ended up playing with the e-stim box.

The most recent night of drunken kink started out with what we jokingly call a “horny purchase”, with shipping promising its delivery the day before M gets back. I confessed this to M afterward, though the original intention was that it would be a surprise for the night he got back. The night ended with spandex, my favorite mask, and the e-stim box, with M watching on video chat.

M laughs about it, and acts surprised that I’d do such a thing — that I’d make a horny purchase and that I’d do such kinky things without him around. But he doesn’t complain about it too much, so I think he doesn’t mind. ;)

Kinky Comfort

Trying to fall asleep by myself in bed last night, I could do anything but sleep. I eventually gave up and reached for a vibrator and a mask to see if that would help me relax and drift off. It was quick and nothing special, but it did the trick to relax me… just not enough to fall into slumber.

I pulled the neoprene hood off. It’s one of my favorites. I love it when M wears it. I really like wearing it. It’s surprisingly comfortable and sexy, with only an opening for the mouth and chin.

I pulled the hood off and tried to relax, tried to let sleep overtake me. And then it hit me. And I pulled the hood back on and just laid there in the dark. And it was exactly what I needed.

When M puts me in the sleepsack, I’ve come to beg him to tighten it around me. It’s made for him, and so I have space to move around inside it, but I beg for him to tie the straps tightly around me.

The hood was similar in a lot of ways. It was comforting. Wearing it made my mind forget about everything else that was racing through it, and instead focus on that feeling.

I eventually slipped the hood off again, and fell asleep thinking about the next time M will tighten the straps around me and slip that hood on me. It was exactly what I needed.

M jokes that when we stop dating one day, that I’ll be like his previous girlfriends, and shrug off the kink, giving it up when I give up him. I hope that day doesn’t happen, but even if it does, I now know that kink won’t be disappearing from my life.

Bondage Tape

I’ve been curious about bondage tape for a little while, but have yet to buy some. Stopping by a store today, I saw some on display that could be touched. I have to say, I was pretty disappointed in it. It actually doesn’t look that good and doesn’t feel like I’d hoped. Yes, it’s shiny… but it feels low quality, and that’s a big turn-off.

I think this has made my decision for me, in that if I do want to play around with something like bondage tape, it would be best if I picked up something like this rubber bandage from Fettered Pleasures. I imagine M would be happier with that as well.

In the Moment

M and I talk about writing stories. Recounting past exploits and imagining future ones. We send each other snippets of fantasies, and talk for hours about what we plan to do to each other. Or, even more dangerously, what we want done to us. They say the largest sex organ is the brain, and we certainly don’t ignore that.

It’s difficult, though, to remember the details. It’s hard to recall and put into words exactly what was happening the night before. So many of the details blur together, only a few very specific things standing out in stark relief.The thrill as he tightened the straps on my arms, pinning them behind my back. Closing the Kali’s Teeth around his hardening cock and snapping a lock on it. The sweat dripping onto my face as he fucked me on the floor. Brushing my hand over his tender nipples, captured by clover clamps. Begging for more, begging to be punished. There’s so much between these snapshots. Lust and fear and trust and the desire to push ourselves, and to push each other.

He comes home from another business trip, this one longer than anticipated. I’m dressed up and waiting for him, restraints ready, mask over my head, on my knees. The anticipation nearly kills me as I hear the key turn in the lock, waiting for him to set his bags down and shove his hard cock in my mouth.

Another night I replicate the “science experiments” I ran while he was away. But this time he restrains me and takes the control box, tweaking the settings, adjusting the speed and intensity of the electricity. In no time he has me begging for mercy.

I do the same to him another night. Zipped up tight in the sleep sack, chained to the bed. I take the box into the other room, playing with the settings to remind him I’m still there, giving him a jolt now and then. But I want to watch him, and I want to push his buttons, so I end up sitting on the floor by the bed, adjusting the settings, eventually making him come.

For a long time, neither of us felt the need to use our safewords. We had them, but rarely uttered them. Lately, though, it’s almost as if we’re daring the other to say it. Trying to push each other into crying “red”. It’s a boundary that we need to push, but we’re pushing it together.