Blindfolded, he listened. To the tinkle of garter snaps. The whisper of sheer nylon. The sound of her moving about just beyond his reach. And he smelled: smooth leather, her sexy perfume. Finally he felt the gentle pressure of her lips on his.
“Start counting, Lover,” she said. With a small chuckle, he sensed her moving away, the sound of her heels fading in the distance.
To himself, he started counting: “One, two, three, four… forty eight, forty nine—FIFTY! Ready or not, here I come!”
He stood up, removed the blindfold she had put on him before she changed into her play clothes, and put on his glasses. The bedroom was empty, as expected. He punched the countdown timer. He had 10 minutes. If he didn’t find her before it went off, it would be ‘Allez, allez, all out are in free’ – and he would be the submissive, at her nonexistent mercy.
He quickly picked up a piece of rope, and moved. A quick check behind the bedroom door—not there. Up and down the bedroom hallway. Not in the linen closet. The den? Not under the desk, or behind the bookshelves. Hmmm.
He stalked as quietly as he could through the upstairs rooms. There were traces of her – an artfully knotted scarf on a doorknob, a heart drawn in lipstick on the bathroom mirror – but she evaded his search. It was possible she had gone down one flight of stairs and concealed herself on the next floor of their split-level, but he considered that unlikely, since she disliked negotiating stairs in heels. He briefly remembered watching her go upstairs in a tight leather skirt and four inch heels, but put the image out of his mind. Time was running out.
He checked the guest bedroom. Not behind the curtains (he imagined their next-door neighbor getting an eyeful) and not in the closet – but the closet door was wide open, creating a hidden space between it and the corner behind. He smiled. Reaching out, he pulled the door quickly towards himself –
He succeeded in startling her, at least a little. Her eyes went wide, then she smiled.
“Oh, you found me,” she said. The timer ‘Pinged!’ in the next room.
“Just in time, too,” he replied. Because he’d been blindfolded, he hadn’t known how she had dressed for their game. Now he smiled as he took in her plunge bra, neat little waist cincher, and slutty shoes. “Hands Up!” he ordered. She raised her hands shoulder-high, thrusting her breasts out at him as she did.
“Come over here,” he told her. Indolently, she sauntered slowly towards him, a gentle smile on her beautiful face.
“Keep those hands up.” He kissed her forehead, then her mouth deeply; then lifting her chin, forcing her head back, kissing her throat; then down further, both breasts and over her flat stomach.
“Mmmmn,” she closed her eyes as he pressed his hand against her labia, pantomiming a more intimate probe.
“Turn around” pouting, she turned gracefully. He pulled her arms down and used the rope he’d been carrying to tie her wrists together, parallel to each other, her hands opposing.
“Oooh,” she moaned, “Not so tight.” He knew this meant she wanted it to be tighter, and he obliged. He wrapped the free ends of the rope around her waist, pinning her hands in the middle of her back. Then he forced the scarf she had left for him into her mouth and tied it around her head, smoothing her hair and freeing her dangling earrings after doing so.
“Now. Move, bitch.” She glanced back over her shoulder, and arrogantly tossed her head. Slowly, she started walking. He hung back a little. He loved to watch her walk in high heels, with her hands tied behind her.
She walked casually into the bedroom and seated herself on the bed. He knelt and tied her ankles together, just above her sexy high-heeled shoes. Then he tied her legs above the knee, knowing that this heightened the sensations between her thighs. He stepped back, admiring the package. She was his, sexily dressed, neatly tied up, sweetly gagged, on his bed. She was his captive, to do with as he wished, and if she had any doubts, the tight ropes that bound her made it clear.
He deliberately switched to rough language, knowing that it excited her. “Do you know what’s going to happen to you, slut?” he asked. She shook her head slowly, her eyes wide and innocent over her gag. “You’re going to stay here, tied up and gagged, for as long as I feel like it. Every few minutes, I’m going to feel you up. When you’re all wet and ready, I’m going to fuck your cunt so hard you won’t be able to stop coming. Then maybe I’ll tie you back up until I feel the need of you again. You might get loose sometime next week. What do you say to that?”
Her eyes pleaded, and she said something desperate, either “Noooo!” or “Please!”—it was hard to tell through the gag.
Smirking, he reached down and popped the front closure of her bra. The fabric slipped open, fully exposing her breasts. He knew this would enhance her feeling of helplessness and humiliation, as she was be unable to cover herself with her hands tied behind her. Chuckling, he stepped out of the room.
Of course he wasn’t leaving. She was so beautiful this way, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. From out in the hall, he watched. She sighed in exaggerated frustration, and then twisted in an attempt to see her bound hands behind her. She looked down her body, extending her legs to check out the tight wrappings of rope at knees and ankles. Then she looked at herself in the mirror, turning from side to side, admiring her sexy costume and tight bondage. She shook her tits, and grinned around her gag. Then she closed her eyes, arched her back and strained against the ropes binding her, a small moan escaping her gagged mouth.
He waited. The whole gameplay of dressing sexy, being hunted down and captured, tied up tight and made to wait for it would make her final ravishment a tremendous climax.
When her sensuous writhings reached a stage of frenetic desperation, he returned to her. She sat, helpless, watching, as he slowly removed his clothes. Her eyes widened in hunger when he removed his briefs. Rolling her into position on the bed, he untied her legs. She eagerly spread them for him. He mounted her in one smooth movement.
“Ready or not,” he said, smiling,…
2012 Cynthia Trusscot