The Fantasy [MF] [MDom] [Light Bondage]

I’ve always gravitated to the idea of being tied up. Ever since I was a kid, I enjoyed movies where the heroine was tied up and struggling against the bonds that held her. If any particular scene added in a piece of tape over her mouth as she was screaming at her captor, it would instantly become my new favorite movie. There are a few very distinct memories that I have of playing games with neighborhood kids. We would be playing games like “cops and robbers” where the victim had to be tied up. I always pretended to be dissatisfied with being the victim. Looking back, I was an easy choice. I was small, so it was easy to just… throw me around.

I can remember feeling excited as I was being tied up – struggling against the bonds. Since we were kids, and not actual criminals, we’d use whatever was lying around. Sometimes it would be rope, a phone cord, or a spare cable from someone’s garage. Then, within a few minutes, I would be bound on the floor or to a chair. It was my favorite game, and I always felt a keen sense of disappointment when I was rescued.

It wasn’t until I was much older that I understood why I liked seeing women tied up, or why I thoroughly enjoyed being bound while squirming around on someone’s driveway. Inevitably, it bled into my sexual fantasies. I always wanted things to be rougher: I wanted my hair to be pulled, a hand around my throat, or to be threatened with a punishment for misbehaving in some way. I enjoyed the loss of control – there was something so relieving about having someone else dictate what I was doing. The idea that I was at this man’s mercy and under his rules made me come harder than anything else.

Telling anyone all of this had never really crossed my mind. I never thought, “I need to tell someone that I want to be tied up, teased, and called a whore,” until him and I started talking. We were close friends, and we often found ourselves talking casually about sex, which often led to us having it.

We were sitting at his kitchen table after we had dinner, and there was a slight, natural lull in the conversation. When he asked me what my darkest fantasy was, his question was not shocking to me, and I told him the entire story. I told him that I wanted someone to take me and use me as his sex toy. I got into the description of it, knowing that he wouldn’t judge me. I didn’t care about most of the specifics of the scenario, but I knew that I wanted to be tied up with rope, gagged in some way, and used by my captor.

By the time I finished explaining it all to him, I expected him to pat my head and, in the most supportive way possible, tell me that I would eventually find a weirdo with the same kind of predilections. It was shocking to me, then, when he was looking at me intensely. He was leaning his forearms on the table, his face serious as I prattled on about wanting to be played with. I stopped talking with a small, awkward smile, trying to diffuse some of his intensity.

“Well, now that you know mine… What’s yours?” I asked, leaning my head on my hand as I tried to read his facial expression.

He held my eyes for another short moment before they trailed down to my torso. He visibly swallowed as responded, “I’m having difficulties articulating that when all I can picture is you, tied up and squirming, on the living room floor.”

I sucked in a sharp breath and stared at him. Immediately, I imagined him leaning over me as I struggled against my bonds, laughing at my attempts to break free while he groped me. I closed my eyes and centered myself before looking at him again.

“You can’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it. It’s not fair,” I leveled at him, suddenly very unsure of where to put my hands. I decided on crossing them over my chest as I glared at him.

“What makes you think I don’t mean it?”

It was a fair question. He wasn’t the type to pull my leg, and his body language seemed to imply that he was interested; but I had a hard time believing that he really wanted to do this with me.

“I don’t know. I just – don’t you think…? Ugh. I don’t know.”

He tilted his head slightly; a look that meant he was going to take pity on me. “I mean it. I want to tie you up and watch you struggle until you’re begging for me to fuck you.”

My standards may be out of whack, but I nearly cried. I wanted this so badly. We began talking, in detail, about how we could make this happen: the supplies that we would need, our new boundary lines, and a precautionary safe word.

As I began to get ready to leave his apartment, we solidified when and where we would be doing this. By the time we finished talking, I could practically hear my heart beating in my chest. This was really going to happen. He was going to do this for me.

—-

Throughout the week leading up to “the event,” I took it upon myself to send him less-than-innocent text messages. I sent him dirty thoughts I was having or pictures of things I was wearing that I knew would get him going. As I was getting ready on the day of, I sent him a picture of two pairs of panties on my bed with the caption, “Which would be better?”

If I was being honest with myself, it was because I wanted to give him a reason to punish me. I wanted him worked up and out of control.

I stood outside of his door, basically bouncing from one foot to the other. I was always happy to see him, but I was so full of pent-up emotion that I couldn’t wait to see his face. As it happened, I barely got a glimpse of it as I was pulled in and shoved up against the door. I turned my face slightly so that my cheek was resting against the large slab of wood.

He had my hands resting on the small of my back as he kept me pressed up against the door, his body against with mine. His breath was hot on my ear as he growled, “Did you think it was funny to send me your little messages all week?”

“I thought you might… enjoy them?” I squeaked, pressing back against him as I started to squirm.

“Oh, I did,” he said. He stepped back, giving me space, and his eyes softened a bit. “Do you remember your safe word?”

I nodded, “Eskimo.”

“And if you can’t speak?”

I took both of my hands, which were still being held by him, and I made a peace sign. He nodded, satisfied that I wouldn’t forget. I expected him to move back against me, but instead, he pulled me back against him roughly, and I stumbled a bit as I was positioned to lean against his body.

One of his hands came around to my front, sliding under my shirt. His voice was soft in my ear as he whispered, “I did enjoy your little messages. Your teasing mission hit its mark. Every night I thought about what I was going to do with you today. How I was going to use this soft little body, and then throw you into the closet until I needed to use again later.”

His hand skimmed over my stomach, coming up to rest on my chest. He began to squeeze it gently, lifting it to feel its weight in his hand. I squirmed against him, getting into the mindset as he crudely groped me.

“I didn’t have a… a ‘teasing mission’!” I lied, trying to pull my hand out of his. He gripped my wrists tighter as he yanked the cups of my bra down. He pinched my nipple between his fingers, rolling it between them. I arched into his hand, still struggling against him. The straps of my bra bit into my shoulders slightly as he walked us over to the couch. He bent me over it, pressing his crotch against my ass. My hair fell over my head as I tumbled down, and I felt his hand press my head back down as I tried to lift it.

I’m not sure where he pulled the rope from, but he took his hand off of my head to place the bundle beside me on the couch cushion. For the first time since I walked in, he released my wrists as he pulled me back up against him. He turned me around, looking down at my disheveled appearance. My nipple was pressing against my shirt, and he used his knuckles to tweak it. With my hands free, I tried to push him away, but he took the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, forcing my arms to go with it. He took my bra with it, throwing them both to the side. He used this as an opportunity to capture my wrists behind my back again as his other hand continued to play with my nipple.

I looked up at him, my heart beating wildly in my chest. He looked back down at me, his smile sarcastic. “Isn’t this nice?”

I shook my head, preparing myself to argue with him when his hand clapped over my mouth. He sighed. “See? Now I had to stop what I was doing because you can’t take responsibility for what you did.”

My muffled response seemed to not reach his ears because he kept going. “You’re misbehaving horribly. First, you knowingly try to get me worked up all week. Now, you’re trying to deny me what’s rightfully mine. You’re trying to tell me how I should play with my toy.”

He reached behind me to grab the rope, unspooling a bit from the bundle. He moved my wrists in front of me, pressing them together. As he began to tie them, I struggled. I thrashed around, trying to buck him off of me. He leaned down and took my nipple into his mouth. The shock of his hot mouth stilled me, and I moaned. He sucked on it as he looped the smooth rope around my wrists, pulling back in order to finish knotting them together.

I pushed against them, testing the bonds to see how tight they were. While they were not uncomfortable, they were tight enough that I wouldn’t be able to get out of them without his help. I looked up at him again, and I saw him watching me squirm.

Suddenly, I was no longer on my feet. He lifted me up around his hips as he moved us to a wall by the front door. He lifted my wrists above my head and used a coat hook on the wall to anchor my hands above my head. Once he was satisfied with how the hook held my arms into place, he dropped my legs to the floor, forcing me to catch my balance. I felt my tits bounce slightly, and I could feel him watching them.

My body felt stretched out. The hook was just high enough that I needed to be on my tippy-toes in order to touch the ground, and I had no recourse to get away from him. I squirmed under his intense gaze, and I could feel myself blushing as he stared at me. I closed my eyes.

I felt his mouth around my nipple again, and I struggled against the urge to arch into him. He seemed to know this, so he lifted his hand to brush his fingertips against the other one. He teased me like this until I was panting, my back arching into him. I held back my moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

He made a frustrated sound and immediately moved his hands to my jeans, undoing them quickly. He pulled them down with a harsh tug, leaving them around my ankles. He pushed my legs as wide as the jeans would allow for, and he shoved my panties to the side. His finger slid between my pussy’s lips, and he moved his mouth away from my tits as he laughed. “Here you are, struggling like you don’t want this, but your pussy is so wet that I could drown in it. You want this cock to slide inside of you, to fill you up, like you’ve been begging for all week.”

“No!” I squeaked, but it didn’t hold much weight as I tried to grind against his hand. He moved his finger in small circles around my clit, and I moaned loudly for him. “Oh, fuck! Please.”

I was aching, and his finger felt so good. I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes again, giving in to him. He moved his hand away, and I made a noise of disappointment. He pressed his wet finger against my mouth. I pressed my lips together tightly, refusing to do what he wanted.

He raised his eyebrow at me, pressing his finger against my lips more firmly. I let it into my mouth and scraped my teeth against it. He pulled it back, glaring down at me. “Did you just attempt to bite my finger?”

“Nope.”

He reached down and gripped my panties. He pulled back and tore the thin lace from my body. He stepped back, looked me up and down, and stomped off.

With him gone, I struggled against the wall, squirming in an attempt to get enough leverage. I tried pushing myself up higher to knock my hands off of the hook.

He walked back in the room with my panties in one hand and duct tape in the other. I stopped struggling, attempting to look up at him innocently. He smirked and walked over to me slowly, looking down at my basically naked body.

“I’m going to ask you again: did you try to bite my finger?”

“No, I was just—“

“Wrong answer,” he said flatly. He balled my panties up in his hand and pressed them against my lips. “Open up.”

“I don’t think that this is –“

He pushed the panties into my mouth, cutting off whatever I had been attempting to say. I shook my head, attempting to push the panties out of my mouth with my tongue as he cut off a piece of tape. I nearly succeeded by the time he noticed, and he used two fingers to shove them back in, placing the tape over my mouth quickly. He cut another piece of tape, placing it over the first one to hold it in place.

He stepped back a bit, putting his hands in his pockets as he looked at me. I began to struggle again, my pleas muffled by the gag. He began undoing his pants, and he pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it to the side.

I continued to squirm as he took his cock out of his boxers. He stroked it as he watched me. I knew what it must look like: my tits bouncing obscenely as I twisted and turned, trying to get my hands free. My feet squirming as I tried to get out of my shoes, and pants.

I pressed my thighs together as I watched him, and I let out a moan. He walked closer to me and slid his hand between my legs. He slid one finger inside of me, and I felt like my entire world stopped. I needed to come so badly.

He kept stroking himself, and all I wanted to do was suck him off. I wanted to slide him into my throat and suck on him until he came.

So, I told him that. He probably couldn’t understand the garbled mess through my gag, but he knew I was begging him for something. Without another word, he lifted me again, which allowed me to pull my hands free from the hook. My shoulders relaxed as I let him carry me. He deposited me onto his kitchen table, and I looked up at him expectantly.

“You’re going to suck this fucking cock,” he said as he pulled my pants off all of the way. “You’re going to take it into your throat and gag on it. If you do a good enough job, I’m going to let you come on it.”

He tore the gag off as he positioned me on the table. He laid me back, letting my head hang off of the side of it. He spread my legs and told me to keep my feet exactly where they were. He threatened that if I moved them, he would stop.

I looked at his cock and felt a wave of wetness pour out of me. He pushed it up against my lips and I swallowed it greedily. I licked and sucked on it, pressing the flat of my tongue against it as I began to bob my head. I heard him groan and felt his fingertips against my pussy.

He rubbed me as he told me that he was going to tie me to this table and feed me his cock every night as he ate dinner. I moaned around him and I felt myself getting closer to the edge. I sucked on him harder and moved my head faster. I felt his other hand slide into my hair, and he gripped it as he thrust into my mouth.

He held my hair tightly as he stopped thrusting into my mouth and moved his fingers away. I thrust up into the air, searching for his fingers again.

He walked around the table, taking my thighs and pulling me across the surface to him. He rubbed his cock against my wet pussy as he looked down at me. I shifted on the table, trying to pull him inside of me. He moved his hips back, glaring down at me.

“Get your hands above your head, and grip the edge of the table.”

I moved quickly, and he moved his hand to my breast, massaging it. He positioned his cock at my entrance again, rubbing it up and down. He slid into me slowly, and I nearly jumped off of the table. I moaned loudly as he pressed all of the way into me, and I screamed as he started moving at a quick, punishing pace. I was so pent up that it didn’t take long at all before I was at the edge, begging him to let me come.

He moved his thumb onto my clit, rubbing it as he told me to come on his cock. I gripped the table harder as I came around him, rolling my hips to feel more friction.

He let out a curse and he began to cum inside of me. His hands gripped my hips as he fucked me, his moans joining mine.

As he finished, he leaned his head down onto my chest, pulling his cock out of me. I lowered my hands and stroked his hair gently, waiting for him to catch his breath.

When he finally calmed down, he went about making sure that I was all right. He cut me out of the ropes and helped me get down. As we cleaned ourselves up, we chatted about how it went.

Once we were finished, I smiled up at him shyly. “Thank you for that.”

He shrugged. “It’s not like I got nothing out of it.”

“But still…” I argued.

He smiled, “Don’t thank me. Next time, you’ll just have to help me with mine.”

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by TheAdultNeeds.org

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