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My Marge
by Sheila B
Sheilab133331@gmail.com | Forum Feedback
© Copyright 2016 - Sheila B - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/f; D/s; switch; bond; outdoors; nipple; public; hum; tease; gag; rope; torment; bdsm; crop; oral; climax; rom; true; cons; X
jpn
My Marge Sheila B F/f; D/s; switch; bond; outdoors; nipple; public; hum; tease; gag; rope; torment; bdsm; crop; oral; climax; rom; true; cons; X
 

Light gusts of wind lifted my skirt slightly as we walked uptown on Fifth Avenue alongside Central Park and while this would normally not be a problem I wasn’t able to simply use my hands to keep it down as they were tied together in front of me.  My submissive, Marge, had convinced me to switch for the day and after I was dressed she put my hands through the pockets that she had cut out of the jacket she put on me and tied my wrists about six inches apart so that they were unseen under the jacket and with the jacket’s zipper closed no one was able to see my bondage and while this was bad enough she had also selected the short flared skirt I wore which allowed my stockings and garter belt to be seen whenever the wind gusted too much and there was nothing I could do about it but blush and pray she would not keep me walking too long.

Complicating matters even more for me, I wore four inch heels and, naked from the waist up, the only other things I wore were a pair of non-piercing nipple rings that I had bought for her as a present a few weeks earlier.  To further ensure my obedience a pair of her panties were in my mouth so I was obliged to keep my lips closed so no one could see I was gagged as well. 

All together the little minx had very cleverly and completely made me helpless in public with no other choice but to walk with her and pray she would not do anything more to me.

After about an hour or so of embarrassment as my skirt would rise and expose my stocking tops as well as my panties on a few thankfully brief instances she led me to one of the benches and had me sit while she bought a hot dog from one of the vendors along the way.  Unable to even try to adjust my skirt as I sat I was forced to sit directly on my panties and exposed thighs and despite my “if looks could kill” stare she simply bought the hot dog and a soda and sat next to me while telling me how lovely the day was and how simply wonderful I looked with all the color in my cheeks.

Fortunately for me after she ate she led me back to my house but before we began to go up the stairs to the main floor she taped my lips, kissed me, and told me what a good little slut I was.  Seething and promising to make her life miserable after I was untied, which came out totally garbled and unintelligible, she kissed my taped lips and practically ran up the stairs leaving me to go up on my own with my skirt swaying as I carefully followed.

Once I came into the living room she unzipped the jacket but did not untie my hands.  Instead she pulled the jacked down my back until it was as far as it could go and using a small length of rope she tied my elbows pulling them as close together as possible before finally untying my wrists and taking the jacket off.  Still gagged and with my arms uselessly tied I offered no resistance when she tied my wrists together behind my back and ordered me to get on my knees.

Using another piece of rope she crossed and tied my ankles and with the excess strands left after it was knotted pulled them up and wound them through my wrists and tied it off to the rope at my elbows so it was impossible for me to reach the knot.  Walking in front of me she took the nipple rings in her fingers and pulled them toward her.  I leaned forward as quickly as I could and when she bent over, told me again what a good slut I was, and kissed my taped mouth. 

Leaving me kneeling she left the room and told me not to move or she would punish me with the crop so that I wouldn’t be able to sit for a week.  Being fearful of her threat I did just that and stayed as still as possible hoping she would end the charade of being the Domme for the day when she came back.

I know it wasn’t too long before she came because although my knees hurt a little bit it certainly wasn’t enough to scream about.  I just wanted my time as her slut to end.  I wanted the damn rings off my nipples.  I wanted to make her sorry for what she did to me.  I wanted to punish her as I’ve done so many times before.  I wanted to make think a hundred times before she would ever ask to switch again.  I wanted her touch me.  I wanted her to play with my pussy.  I wanted her fingers inside me.  I wanted her to suck on my nipples until I screamed from both pain and desire.  I wanted to be her slut. 

Thankfully when she returned she knelt behind me and played me like a long cherished instrument and after forcing me to cum all too many times to count she gently removed the tape from my lips, removed the panties from my mouth, kissed me so passionately I never wanted it to end, gently lowered me onto my tummy, sat down in front me, open her naked legs and pulled me toward her, and as she not too gently and not too harshly beat my ass with the crop made me lick and suck her clit and pussy until she finally closed her legs so tightly I had difficulty breathing and felt her rock back and forth as my tongue forced itself as deep into her as I could get it.

By the time she did untie me and I managed to take the damned rings off my nipples I had no strength or desire to take my revenge on her.  I was spent, I was tired, I was hers for the rest of the night and I loved it more than I could have imagined.

This was only a small part of our time together but it was one of my favorite times with my darling Marge.  A year later when the law in New York and most of the county was changed we were married and despite a dreadful illness that eventually took her from me I cherish her and miss her so much.  I ache every day thinking of her and although I have moved on in many ways it will never be the same.  She was special.  She was loving.  She was kind.  She was so creative.  She was a widow when I met her and a wonderful mother to three grown daughters with whom I keep in touch and see as often as possible.  She was my soul mate.  No, she was my soul.  I will always keep her in my heart.

Have no fear, I am not going to become all mushy just now, although I have started to cry a little, and now that I’ve finally told everyone just a little about my beloved Marge, I feel a little better, and will very likely tell a little more in the future.

In loving memory to my Marge,

Sheila B.
Sheilab133331@gmail.com

PS  This is a true story that I want to especially share with our dearest friends; Nutsa, Susie, Frankie and Tom because each in their own way influenced our relationship.

 

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21.11.16

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