Devilish Restraints - 1016 Live

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A buddy gave me his smartphone number weeks ago. "Call him. Just call him," she said. I’d stopped dating. It wasn’t the guys. Well, maybe a little. "Look, I’m over ‘relationships’ for the moment. I just want to be by myself for awhile. That’s all." My buddy shrugged. "Call him," she said again. I was the youngest of trio girls. Hardening up, I’d watched my sisters and their guy friends. Awkward kisses in the barn. Palms groping, shoveled away, more groping. I had dreams, murky pictures in my head. And I’d massaged with myself some nights, unsatisfied, my fumbling increasing my longing. Like shafts were doing now. Oh, I’d had lots of shafts the last few years, large ones, small ones. shafts that were hair-trigger, and shafts that had to be coaxed. shafts that loved your basic fuck, and shafts that desired anything but your basic fuck. And I’d lie in bed afterwards with every one of those shafts (never guys, or men, just cocks), damp, salty, occasionally fumbling in the dark after they commenced snoring, and I desired more, less, nothing, everything. I desired something I couldn’t admit to myself. I desired and wanted, but I was afraid. "Call him," my buddy said. It was the invented lounging in the dark that stopped me from calling, and the smell of supposed love, and the emptiness, the loneliness, the unhappiness that was always worse after it was over. I was fumbling in the dark. When I finally made the call, he told me to come alone and to wear a mini-skirt and blouse. No underwear. My Palms shook. I smooth-shaven everything that night. Everything but my head. I shoveled a tabouret in front of the mirror and sat in it, naked. I touched myself, my gams opened up and soles resting against the wall on either side of the mirror. I inspected each fold of my beaver and cunt, then touched my fingers to my mouth, tasting myself. And I groped my breasts, watching, playing with my puffies until they hardened. I glided my fingers in and out of myself, the fingers of one forearm in my asshole, the fingers of the other in my cunt. And all the while, I watched. I was a stranger to myself. I was nobody I’d ever faced before. The very first thing he did that night was to bind me bent over a cage. Some other dame was locked inwards of it. "You think I’m going to screw you?" he said, arching close, but not rubbing me. "Only if you’re lucky." And he cocked his head, his eyes sad, as tho' he pitied me. "Don’t worry." He grinned then, but it made me shiver. "I’m only going to hurt you a little." I desired to say something sexy. I desired to make him want me. I desired to do all the things I’d learned thru the years, the way a dame takes control. But I couldn’t. I was falling. I was out of control. I was cracking into pieces. He grinned because he knew everything the moment he eyed me. He’d watched my eyes ramble once he’d unlocked the door to his "special room" and led me inside. The walls were adorned with straps, ropes, chain, shackles. My body was on fire. That night he cut my clothing off me. He shackled me to a iron bar. He locked a heavy steel dog collar on my neck. Chain between my legs, around my breasts. iron in my mouth, my ass. iron clamps clamping my nipples. And later, vibrator in my cunt. He opened up me out spread-eagle, lounging on my back. He packaged leather around my neck and tightened. He cut off my air. He made me come over and over. After he was done with me and let me loose, I kneeled in front of him and smooched his boots. He put a thinner dog collar on my neck and locked it in place. "You’ll do everything I say. When I call, you’ll come immediately." I gazed at the floor. "Yes sir." "You’re mine now." I shivered, not from cold, but from something else, something new, an electricity. For the very first time, I wasn’t fumbling in the dark anymore. "Yes sir."