Page 50 of Requiem

Okay, now, what to use for restraints? I have a tie, of course, but Christ, that’s been done to death. When my thoughts turn to my toolbox, I have my answer.

“Don’t you move,” I order, leaving the room, buck-naked, so I can rifle through the hall closet. Screw the harnesses and whips and all the other elaborate contraptions the serious BDSM practitioners use. I’ve got everything I need right here in my big bright orange toolbox. I pull it down and bring it into the bedroom with me, setting it on the dresser. Aha! My first accessory is right there on top: a bag of zip ties in assorted lengths. In a matter of seconds, I am crawling onto the bed and straddling Lisa’s slim body. My cock brushes against her soft skin and I feel her wriggle slightly under me.

“Did I say you could move?” I snap, my eyes boring down into hers.

“No, Sir. I’m s-sorry, Sir,” she stutters.

“Hmmmm.”

I shoot her one last disapproving look before I grab one of her wrists sharply and use a zip tie to secure it to one of the slats in the headboard. She takes a sharp breath in, and I know the plastic is digging into her flesh. I repeat the process with her other wrist, and then look down at my handiwork. But I’m not done yet. I jump off the bed and return to my handyman’s box of carnal delights to extract two bungee cords. I stand at the foot of the bed and lean in to where her feet are. She pulls one back slightly when I try to take it in my hand, so I give it a hard wrench and she cries out in pain.

“Don’t you ever pull away from me!” I hiss up at her, seeing the tears welling in her eyes.

“No, Sir,” she sniffs. “I won’t do it again, Sir.”

“You’d better not, or next time you’ll need crutches to get out of bed.”

I take two more zip ties and loop them around her ankles, leaving the slightest bit of slack so I can hook the bungees onto them. Then I take a step back, left bungee in hand and pull it to the side so I can hook it onto the far side of the footboard. Once I have repeated the process with the other ankle, she’s not only tied down, she is spread eagle, totally vulnerable to whatever depraved thing I want to subject her to, not that that matters to me at this point.

A true Dominant would have worked out a safe word for the Sub to use when she wanted to halt things. Lisa doesn’t know enough to ask. I don’t offer. And, as my cock is reminding me, it’s a little late for that now. Nope, we’re in this for the duration, whether she likes it or not.

I climb up onto the bed between her legs and give her a delicious, wicked smile. She bites her lip with the excitement of whatever might come next. I start my kissing and nibbling on the sensitive innersoles of her feet, up around her bound ankles and finally to the inside of her lower leg. I would love to just bury myself into her right now, but I want her to be begging for it, desperately pleading for me to give her my cock. That’s worth the wait. And, if the wet spot on my bed is any indication, I won’t have to wait very long.

The skin on her inner thighs is warm and smooth under my lips and she fights a growl somewhere deep in her throat when I land there. Using only my mouth, I make my way up, slowly, running my tongue along and into the dip where her thigh ends and the soft, mound of her sex begins to swell.

Lisa shivers as I trace up and around, but not inside. I get close, but not close enough to give her any satisfaction. I reach up and tap the top of one of her knees. She gets the idea and bends them up so that she is open to me, her thigh muscles fighting against the pull of the bungees. It makes her legs tremble.

I take my time, using my fingers to peel her layers apart slowly. When I hit a sensitive spot she gasps. I have a perfect view of her as I dip my tongue into the slick pink flesh and give a long, slow lap. She spreads her legs wider against the restriction of the cords and tilts her pelvis up, inviting me in for further exploration.

I’m done playing. I hold her open with my thumbs and find her swollen clit. With the daintiest of bites, I start to nibble.

“Oh, ohhhhhhhh, dear God. Oh ….”

I stop abruptly. “Don’t you even think about coming,” I hiss, pulling away long enough to look up at her agonized face. “Do you hear me, bitch?”

“Yes, Sir,” she breathes out in barely a whisper.

I glance up at her and am amused to see her bite her lip and dig her fingernails into her own hand to keep from giving in to the pleasure.

I renew my assault, dipping my tongue deep within her moistness, lapping from one end of her to the other until she can’t control the quivering. As soon as I feel her body begin to tighten, I stop. From above me, she lets the faintest cry of disappointment pass her lips.

“Was that a complaint?” I accuse her harshly.

“No, no, Sir,” she sobs.

“Oh, I think it was.”

She lifts her head and her face pinches into a mask of fear. Oh, she’s good at this.

“No, Sir. I swear, Sir. Please don’t punish me,” she begs in a tone that implies I should do exactly that.

Damn, and here I am without a riding crop. No worries though, I’ll just have to do a little more improvising. I get up off the bed and saunter out of the room, leaving her in a spread and ready position long enough to grab a spatula and a couple of those stupid clips you use to close the chip bag when you’re done. She can’t see it when I walk in, but she sure as hell feels it when I deliver a quick, stinging blow to her inner thigh with a very satisfying smack. Before the gasp can even pass her lips, I deliver another swat and another in quick succession. Ugly red marks the size of a bar of soap are starting to raise on her milky skin.

“Are you sorry?”

“Yes. Yes, Sir. So sorry, Sir,” she says quickly.

I give her one more smack for good measure, then walk around to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. She looks incredibly hot like this, legs splayed wide, breasts stretched upward from the pull of her wrist restraints. There is the slightest sheen of perspiration on her forehead.