I was in a mischievous mood and openly challenged my Husband on twitter. Until He told me that there would be some repercussions when we went upstairs. Do you think that I stopped being a brat? No, of course not… I made another joke, and another.
There was rope on the bed when I returned from the bathroom. Only rope. I looked around for some other implements, such as a flogger or a cane, but there was nothing. Okay, I thought, this is going to be easy. I still felt very mischievous, but suppressed the naughtiness inside me. He looped the rope around my neck, tied it between my breasts and then crossed it on my back. It was looped back to the front and to behind my back again. My wrists were tied behind my back and finally the rope ran back to the front again, where He tightly tied it. Then He left me alone in the room.
I was sitting on a stool in front of the mirror. I looked at the way He tied me; the way my tummy seemed far too round sitting on the stool; the way my breasts were caught up between the ropes. And I did silly things – yes, I still felt the mischief – like pulling funny faces or just talking to my mirror image. However, when He came back into the room, I was quiet again. I was quiet because I did not want to trigger Him into getting the flogger or the cane out after all, but I was also quiet because He conjured the ball gag from somewhere. When He tightly tied it behind my head, I remembered the previous experience with it and wondered how long it would take before the gagging started again. This time I would not be able to take the ball from my mouth, because of my tied hands.
He pinched my nipples, making me wince and pull away. He softly slap against the insides of my thighs, which meant that I had to spread my legs. I did. Soon He brought me to orgasm. He turned me towards Him and balancing my ass on the edge of the stool, I spread my legs wide. More orgasms followed. I moaned behind the gag, trying to get His attention. At that moment I was already surprised at the comfort with which I was wearing the gag. Not once did I feel a gag reflex. He looked at me when I moaned.
“Does it hurt?” He asked and I shook my head. I tried to tap on the seating of the stool behind me.
“Must I untie you?” He asked and I shook my head. He looked at me quizzically, clearly not understanding what I was trying to say. I lifted my ass and bumped it on the stool a couple of times. Thinking of it now, it must have been quite a funny sight.
“Do you want to lie down?”
At last! Yes, I nodded, yes! And He granted me my wish.
When I lay down on my back the first thought was about gagging again. His hand between my legs immediately pushed those thoughts away. My world existed only of my wet cunt and my sensitive clitoris. And of the many orgasms that followed. Occasionally the thought of gagging crossed my mind, but not the fear of it anymore. No, I was feeling content because somehow the gag was not as uncomfortable as it was the previous time that I had to wear it. I looked at my Husband. He looked deep into my eyes.
That one word sent a delicious shiver down my spine and made me spread my legs even more. I lifted my ass off the bed, wanting Him to touch my ass. He did not; He fingered me, then rubbed my clitoris and fingered me again, bringing me more orgasms.
“I know what you want,” He said as I lifted my ass off the bed again, “but you will have to wait.”
He brought me to another orgasm and then asked me to sit up. The rope was untied, but the gag stayed in place. More orgasms followed and only then the gag came off. His hand moved to my pussy again. I was getting hornier by the minute and sighed audibly when at last His finger slipped into my ass. It felt so good. I spread my legs wide and begged him to add a finger to the first one. He did. My hand moved to my clitoris and soon the orgasm took hold of me. It lasted longer than it normally did. I wanted him to remove His fingers but I did not want Him to remove it. I wanted to have another orgasm, but then again I did not.
He lay down on top of me, pinning me down, looking deep into my eyes and called me His whore, His slut. I nodded. Yes, yes, I am. His slut. His whore. And I want nothing more than to be it. There is no one else in this world that makes me feel better than He does, that accepts me the way He does, with whom I do not have the feeling ‘what would He think of me when…’
He fucked me – soft at first, then harder – until I felt the pulsating of his cock against the sensitive insides of my pussy when He came.
© Rebel’s Notes