Bondage Sex Story
"Unexpected," a Licorice Whips tale by Lillian Lea
A typical Saturday night in DC: colleagues who worked on the Hill during the day, toasting, talking, and dining at night. The conversation never wavered: politics, sports, retirement funds.
Eleanor sighed, listening to her husband’s animated story about how much they had lost in the recent market depression. She was bored with this talk – he seemed to have nothing else to say! With no children and a rental apartment, she did not suffer the same gloom or interest that he did. She looked out the window and ignored the rest of the conversation. He rarely said or did anything exciting anymore, not that he ever had. That’s why she had married him – he was safe, dependable, reliable…comfortable.
When it was time to leave, they said good night to the same group of friends they always spent Saturday evenings with. Her husband helped pull the trench coat over her shoulders, ever the gentleman. He kissed the other ladies present on the cheek, shook the hands of the men, and they hailed a taxicab home to their apartment.
She stared out the window of the cab, suppressing a yawn, slipping further into melancholy. Maybe it was the wine loosening her defenses – she usually suppressed any feelings of unhappiness and boredom. She had knowingly traded excitement for familiarity and was typically content with that decision.
Upon walking through the nondescript wooden door into the nondescript city apartment, petting the nondescript dog, she slipped into her long, white cotton nightgown and slid between the covers. She did not want to read this night; she simply wanted to sleep, avoiding any thoughts of dissatisfaction that crept into her head during moments just like these.
She heard her husband brush his teeth, turn off the bathroom light, and walk toward the bed. The covers pulled back, he slid in. She began settling into the benign comfort of the familiar when she suddenly felt a hand around her waist, pulling her roughly toward the middle of the bed. Her husband leaned on one arm, pulling at her nightgown with the other. He quickly became frustrated with the slowness of unbuttoning the long chemise. He leaned back on his haunches and ripped the nightgown down the middle. Eleanor gasped in surprise. Her eyes focused on the man above her to ensure that it was indeed her husband, whom, at the moment, she did not recognize.
Vibration of Feeling, by Arthur Braginsky (prints available at ObsessionArt.com)Once he freed her breasts, he grabbed them in his hands, one in each, enclosing around the large fullness as his lips sought their pink orbs. He bit each and she cried out, stunned by the pain and the unfamiliar response of her body; her nipples growing hard, her panties instantly wet. He continued to bite and suckle her now swollen breasts, massaging and pulling at them to his desire.
She lay motionless, shocked at his uncharacteristic behavior. He quickly pulled back from her breasts and flipped her over as if she were a doll. She landed on her stomach, her face in the pillow. He shoved her arms over her head; she voiced a small protest but he ignored her. He pinned her arms with one hand as his other slid fingers between her thighs, now wet and eager, swollen and responsive. Her head was confused and out of focus, but her body relished this aggression.
His fingers slid in and out of her, roughly, demanding, taking. He spanked her bottom, hard, and she tried to free her hands. She wanted more control; she had never seen him like this. He spanked her again. She turned her head from the pillow to protest. He forced her silent with a kiss, hot, wet. He fought her lips to open and his tongue ravaged inside her mouth, in and out, around her lips, biting the corners until she felt them swell. Her hips began to buck up, allowing him more access.
He laughed deep within his throat and she moaned. “Your little pussy is so wet,” he whispered in her ear and she felt sure she would come right then – one more small touch and she would be spent. With quick motion, he wrapped her wrists in ties that she did not know he possessed. Having both hands free, he leaned back on his knees, pulled her hips up and spanked her loudly on the bottom. She then felt something soft, with several long sinewy fingers, slapping across her backside. A whip? Her hips pushed up even further, offering herself. She felt the whip between her legs and bit the pillow as she moaned.
“Please,” she whispered. He brought the whip down again, between her legs, on the softest of places. It hurt, but she pushed even further up, exposing herself more to the sensation, and he continued, saying, “that’s right – move your little pussy up here.” And she felt his mouth between her legs now, searing-hot as he licked, bit, and sucked between her legs. She moaned loudly and thrust herself back against his mouth.
She moaned again as his mouth pleasured her in ways it never had before. His tongue thrust in and out. She wanted more. He used the whip on the sides of her buttocks and chuckled under his breath, a deeply masculine sound she had never heard from him. When she felt like she would explode, he found her sacred spot and licked it a few times until she shook and screamed out in pleasure. They rode the crescendo of her fulfillment until her hips finally fell back onto the bed.
The wrist ties were just loose enough and he flipped her onto her back, mounted her chest and thrust his penis into her waiting, wanting, wet mouth. She moaned in pleasure as she took him, licking and sucking gently at his cock. His hips moved in the ancient rhythm until he exploded into her mouth, his seed sliding down her throat.
After the ripples coursing his body slowed, he moved away, leaving her tied to the bed. He went to the bottom of the bed and was quiet for a moment. He then spread her legs wide, still dripping wet with lust, and gently pushed the biggest cock she had ever experienced deep inside her. She bit the tender side of her arm as the pleasure shook her body. He moved the cock in and out, watching her face, her body writhing in ecstasy, her hips lifting to meet the artificial member, her legs spreading further apart.
He watched as she bit her lip. He twisted the cock around as he pushed it into her and pulled it out.
“Lick me. Please.” Her voice was breathless.
“Where do you want to be licked?” His voice was deeper than usual, throatier, huskier. He was teasing her.
“My pussy. My clit. Please lick my clit. Oh God.” And he bent his head down to take her swollen nub into his mouth. As the cock continued to pleasure her pussy, his tongue gave her the most explosive orgasm of her life, and she came in a surge that lasted and lasted…
Early the next morning, she awoke to the sound of her husband dressing for work. She opened her eyes into narrow slits and watched him put on his navy blue suit, red tie, and black loafers. His hair was slicked back, neatly groomed. He was clean-shaven and a faint smell of cologne permeated the air. He grabbed his pristine leather briefcase and walked to her side of the bed. She closed her eyes, not yet ready to interact after their night of wild sex. He kissed her softly on the brow and left for work.
Originally published September 2010