Robert Newman (July 2001)
Her fingers tense to the touch of my lips, as I trace my tongue unhurriedly from one to the next. Her palms are downwards against the board, and I feel the tiny hairs on the back of her hand rise under my lips. She has beautiful hands. I kiss her knuckles then on towards her wrists, where I linger to savour how the ropes hold her firm, passing three times round her wrist and the board which is cut exactly to her shape.
I am glad we had this board made _ a simple affair made from thick, laminated wood and cut to a shape made from tracing round her naked body with a marker pen, and we both remember the simple excitement that exercise alone caused us, not just from the journey of the pen and my hand which guided it, but from the anticipation of why she was being traced in this way. The completed board, slightly padded, is now mounted horizontally on stout tubular metal legs well able to take her weight and my own. I open my eyes to see how the ropes hold her for my pleasure.
I extend my tongue to her, making her tense her hand and tighten the rope's grip. I like to see her bound like this, like to see her struggle as if she wants to escape, even though we both know she does not. Upwards, the longer hairs on her arms rising from the goosebumps caused by my teasing tongue. I sense her hold her breath as my tongue teases, slowing down then speeding up towards the nerve_centres at her inner elbow. I linger there awhile, using kisses now to make her see she has more erogenous zones than she was aware of. Her breathing has quickened now and is unsteady. I wonder if I could make her come from just kissing her arms? I think, with the right situation and the right choice of words, I could, but that is for another day.
Upwards again. The ropes which hold her arms down brush under my lips as I continue. Inches away from my eyes and lips I see the swell of her breast as her chest rises and falls. Goosebumps there, too. Her nipple stands proud before my eyes, hard, dry just waiting to be kissed and caressed. But her nipples are intended for my downward journey.
In time. We are in no hurry. My kiss reaches the inside of her upper arm. I wet my lips and leave trails of saliva on her skin to go cold and remind her of where I have been. The swell of her breast is against my cheek. Her perfect scent excites me. I am at her armpit now, her fresh perspiration an aphrodisiac to be savoured. I kiss slowly from there towards her neck, where her collar holds her neck to the board. It is not tight, but prevents her moving away. I can feel her heartbeat under my lips on her neck as I slide my tongue under the collar to remind her that it is mine. I have fitted it to her.
She belongs to me. Upwards again, this part of my journey almost done. The rest of her neck, then her ears, so sensitive to my kiss and my breath. I pull her lobe between my lips and push the tip of my tongue inside her ear, holding her head still as she tries to twist away from the unbearable pleasure it brings. I whisper in this, her left ear, "I love you," then I move to her right and repeat.
Her mouth answers me with words and her body answers me with reactions. I kiss from her right ear to her neck and then up to her mouth. She makes no attempt to twist away as I kiss her lips, but I hold her face anyway, to allow her to revel in my power, not because I need the power but because we both need to acknowledge it. I move my face away and look at hers. Even with the blindfold she is stunningly beautiful. I spend some minutes drinking the sight of her in.
She remains there, not moving. She knows I am looking at her, and she knows I can see her. All of her, naked and bound before me. I dip my head to her lips again, tracing their outline with my tongue as her own tongue reaches out to meet me. I love her tongue, whether it be used to talk and tease in her fun way that enthralls me so or whether it be caressing the most intimate parts of me. For now her tongue is playing games with my own, which I slow down so as to remember these sensations. I concentrate on our tongues. How many people, I wonder, use their tongues in such love play without really concentrating on the sensations there? This needs time, not speed. Later, much later, my tongue moves again, straight down this time, across her chin and to her throat, stopping at the collar to take it between my teeth and tug it to remind her again of its symbolism. Then on, down her chest until it rests midway between her breasts. I ask her, "left or right?" but all I get is an excited moan and a push of her body as she strains up against her bonds to meet me.
Right, I think, following that perfect texture across the breast and onto the nipple, drawing a gasp from her as I get there, then more gasps as my tongue circles it and finally my lips enclose it and draw it in. Between my lips I hold it and use my tongue to flick across it. She is pleading now, "I need to come, master, please make me come." But she will come, when I am ready. Not yet, but when I am ready.
Time to move east, directly from her right breast, down the valley between to the other, the anticipation of the repetition exciting her before I get there. I move back again, watching her as her chest rises and falls with increasing urgency, the wetness of my saliva still glistening on her nipples where I left it to cool and excite. Back to the centre I go, then down, across the single rope beneath her breasts which holds her chest down, then on to the flatness of her tummy. Her muscles are hard, expectant. She knows where I am going but has no idea how long I will take to get there or by which route. My tongue lingers in her navel, then travels outwards to her hip_bone, teasing and kissing that oh_so_sensitive point just inside the pelvic bone where that glorious flatness of her stomach starts. Then across, to the other side, zig_zagging to left and right and going tortuously further towards her pubis with each traverse. My mouth has reached the top of her mound now, and she is trying everything to get me to make contact. Her words are a rush of sexual delirium now, mainly "please, please, please...". But I am not ready yet.
I move away and look down at her as her frustration makes her relax and sag back onto the board. She is beautiful, the slick of perspiration making her skin glow. Words of frustration now, "Please, why are you teasing me?" I laugh a reply. "Please, I have to come ," she begs. "Soon, I promise, but when you do it will be so good, I promise you. Do you trust me, my love?" "Yes." "Then wait for me, you will know the moment. You will come at exactly the moment I choose for you to, and then you will come again, then once more, three times in all. Then you will need to sleep." Silence. I keep looking at her relaxed form.
It is not often that one has the opportunity or takes the time to examine a girl in that much detail. My head is directly above her pussy, her legs parted by the board, and her thighs held fast by more ropes. Her labia are nicely moist from my work, and I touch the wetness with one finger, causing her to tense and gasp. I taste the moisture, then allow her to taste too. I collect more and wipe it round her lips, then reach up to kiss it off again. I love the taste of her arousal. I kiss her lips and then push my wet fingers between us, our tongues devouring me as we kiss. The temptation to simply straddle her face and thrust in to take my own selfish pleasure is almost too strong to resist, yet I do.
That will come later. For this time my purpose is to demonstrate to this lovely lady that I can drive her wild with sexual frenzy, and allow her release only when I decide. I stand and go to her feet. I kneel at her feet and trace my tongue slowly up the underside. The sensation is unbearable at first, and her foot wriggles this way and that to escape, but the rope which holds her ankle and my own hand stopping her twisting prevent such escape. I continue licking the puckered skin. My tongue traces upwards again. She is moaning now, her head thrashing from side to side as much as her collar allows.
This time I don't stop, and my tongue goes between her first and second toes, before my lips surround her big toe. When I decide to move on I kiss and suck each toe in turn before repeating the whole process on the other foot. She is almost sobbing now, not with sadness but because she needs release. Soon, my darling, very soon. My lips and tongue start the wonderfully long journey up the insides of her legs, from one to the other, kissing, licking, moving slowly but steadily higher. I pause to lick the hollows of her ankles, then trail my tongue along her calf muscles. I use long movements to travel between the hollows and bumps, licking up and down her calf and stopping at her ankles and knees to press the pleasure home. I stop also wherever there is a rope holding her.
She is submissive by choice, not because I have made her that way, so she enjoys the ropes, and anything I do to remind her the ropes are holding her gives her an extra kick. So I pause at her ropes, I bite and pull them, I lick beneath them, I slide my fingers under them so they tighten on her. I push her limbs against them to remind her she cannot move, cannot escape. Her legs have ropes at the ankles, above the knees and at the thickest part of her thighs. My tongue is now concentrating on the indentations at the sides of her knees and the ropes just above. I am waiting and she is waiting. Her first orgasm is minutes away and I feel that somehow she senses it. I take a moment to look at her face, letting my fingers keep the sensations going as they trace her inner thighs. Her head is still moving to and fro, saliva dribbling from her mouth. If she could see herself I have no doubt she would say she looked a mess, with her hair matted and disheveled and her make_up awry, but to me she looks so beautiful, so abandoned, so mine.
I have to kiss that mouth for a moment, I have to use my tongue to drink her saliva, to devour whatever I can. She tenses as she feels me moving lower again. I place my tongue on her right thigh, just above the knee rope. I make sure it is as wet as I can, since I need enough moisture to lubricate my way until I can get to more moisture of a different kind. I start to move upwards and I feel her whole body tense. Upwards, will I stop? I reach the thigh rope and cross it. The heat and the scent of her invade my senses. Upwards until her other thigh is against my face too. She is gasping now. My tongue has reached her and lashes across her clitoris and she comes as her pussy convulses and squeezes a bead of her moisture out and into my waiting mouth. Her gasps are deafening.
I take hold of her hands with my own and feel her grip as the spasms take her. My tongue vibrates between her labia and she is shaking, crying, sobbing, gasping. I still my tongue, but leave it in place. Her staccato spasms eventually subside, her grip on my hands turns from a grip of desperation back to grasps of love. I speak into her so she feels as well as hears me. "Relaxed?" She is about to reply when I trace my tongue upwards and across her clitoris again. She screams out and tenses, her hands gripping mine anew. If she could close her legs she would, because she is so sensitive there, but she cannot.
I slow to a gentle circular movement around the hard bud, occasionally making contact and feeling the immediate reaction throughout her body as I do so. Soon she is ready, and I settle into a steady rhythm with the merest flicks of my tongue directly onto her clit, while retrieving my right hand and pushing two fingers deep into her, feeling the oiliness of her cervix and scraping forwards over her g_spot to bring about a second convulsive explosion. She struggles to breath, to cope with the sensations that take her beyond control as I tease out the last of her orgasm, then I gently kiss her bud as she subsides once more, keeping her on the boil while allowing her a few moments respite. She is trying to speak again, and I stop for long enough to listen. "Enough, please, I can't take any more." I tell her I said three and I meant three, and she knows better than to argue, after all, what can she do? I offer to get her a drink, which she accepts. I pour a large glass of fruit juice and go back to sit beside her. I take a sip of the juice and kiss her lips apart, allowing the liquid to flow from me and between her lips.
We share an open_mouthed fruit_flavoured kiss, not swallowing but sharing it back and forth between us until we have absorbed it all. I dip my finger in the juice and trickle droplets onto her lips, a drip at a time, her tongue reaching out to get the next. I allow a droplet to trail down the side of her mouth to her neck and recover it by licking back up the track it made.
Then I take a large swig and in another open_mouthed kiss we share it back and forth, raising its temperature to our own. I love to look at her, and pull back to see the droplets running from her mouth. Half a glass left _ just enough. I tell her to open her mouth and offer the glass to her, but from the angle she is at it spills and runs down her face. I allow the trickle from the glass to trail across her skin as I move the glass down, on her chest, running down her neck and making her shiver and giggle. Downwards I go again, pausing to drip some on her nipples, amused by the way it leaves coloured patterns on her lovely skin.
Down again, leaving a pool in her navel and making her tense again as it eventually runs between her legs. With my other hand I part her labia and pour it directly onto her clit, emptying the rest of the glass slowly there. All that is left now is to drink my juice. She knows where it has gone because she felt it run there. Therefore she knows where I will go. Of course I start at her lips again, licking down onto her throat and then across her chest to her nipples. Despite herself she is rising to meet me. "No more" has little conviction now.
Down across her stomach to her navel, plunging my tongue in to displace the pool of fluid collected there, and following it as it runs away. All gone I start another journey south, across her pubic mound and between those lips that I still hold apart. I lick along each of her outer labia in turn, taking each into my mouth gently as my tongue traces her inner lips. The juice has run lower and I follow it. I lick lower, teasing her whole anal area before going back to her beautiful fruit_flavoured pussy. She knows now that her pleas are lost, that she will come again, because I have told her so. My tongue traces back up her body as my fingers start a regular rhythm within her. I kiss her mouth, a clear message to her that her body is one, regardless of which part I kiss. I love all of her. My other hand pinches her nose, so to breathe she must do so through my mouth. The initial panic over, I breathe for her. I love to do this, since this way I can live her orgasm with her, feel as her need for breath quickens and loses control. She is seconds away and I intensify my movements to take her over the top, and she gasps for the breath I give her. She moans into my mouth, a mixture of words of love spoken within me. I do not release her, but stay with my mouth locked to hers as she peaks and gradually subsides, and our breathing returns to regular, relaxed normality.
Her body is covered in sweat and juice and she looks gorgeous. I take off her blindfold and smile at her as she smiles back at me. We talk about what has happened and what we mean to each other. She seems in no hurry to be released and I am in no hurry to release her. We kiss sometimes and we talk at other times. I feed her pieces of fresh fruit and squeeze them on her breasts so I can lick them off her again.
At a whim I put strawberries on her chest and stomach and I climb upon her to squash them between us, then raise my cock to her mouth so she can lick them from me. I love to watch her lick me, her eyes closed as she savours the pleasure she gives me. She asks me if she can try to repay some of the pleasure she has had today, and I tease her, asking how she can possibly do anything since she is still tied fast. I make a decision, climb astride her and push my cock between her lips.....
Mexican Devil-Worship - This Art Deco bit of devil-worshiping comes from the cover of the vintage Mexican pulp magazine Detectives: View this post in its original location at Eros...
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