Kendra Williamson worked in the same small advertising firm as I did. She was in a different department, but we often saw each other around the office, and sometimes chatted over lunch in the break room. She was a real head-turner, always well dressed, usually in a medium-length skirt and a solid-colour top that brought out the delicate tones of her café-au-lait skin and dark eyes. Chatting with her over lunch, I discovered that she was mixed race, Irish/English-Canadian on her mother's side, Afro-American on her father's. She seemed to have gotten the best features of both racial backgrounds: narrow and well-sculpted nose, full but not overly large lips, and black kinky hair that she usually wore in multiple long tight braids with glittering beads worked into them.
I grew increasingly interested in knowing her better. Partly I was intrigued by her beautiful and slightly exotic appearance, but I was also attracted to her warm, easy personality that made me feel comfortable with her from almost the moment we first spoke. She seemed interested in me as well, which helped assuage my natural shyness around women enough that one Wednesday afternoon I asked her, "This Friday after work, could I take you to dinner?"
Without hesitation she said, "Yes, that would be lovely." My stomach unknotted. It had taken me a while to work up the nerve to ask her out, and her unhesitating acceptance put me at ease immediately.
When Friday finally came around, she went home to change, and I picked her up at seven. When she opened the door, she looked even more attractive than she did around the office. She wore very restrained but effective makeup that brought out the shape of her eyes and lips, and had added a silver necklace to her tastefully cut top that was low enough to be interesting without being too immodest.
She had suggested that I choose the restaurant, so I took us to one of my favourite Thai places. It turned out that she was very fond of Thai, but had never discovered this one, so it seemed I had made a good choice. Over dinner and a shared bottle of wine, she revealed herself to have as warm and engaging a personality as she had displayed at the office. She was as good a listener as she was a talker, and had soon pumped out a highly abbreviated story of my life.
After dinner, we went back to my place for a drink or two. We sat together on the couch, and I could feel her hip touching mine. My cock, which had been at half-mast all evening, was suddenly starting to swell, and I pressed my hip just a little more firmly against her. She set her glass down on the coffee table, took mine and set it beside hers, leaned over, and planted a lingering kiss full on my lips, her mouth slightly open and her tongue touching my lips gently. I returned the kiss firmly, and soon we were kissing passionately, our arms around each other and our tongues eagerly exploring each others' mouths.
I took her right breast in my hand, lifting and squeezing it gently through the thin material of her blouse. I could feel her nipple harden inside her clothing, and I ran my other hand tenderly down her neck to the neckline of the blouse. She covered it with her hand, not to stop it but to press it warmly against her skin.
This was real, and was more than I had dared to hope for. I stood up, and she stood up with me and walked with me hand in hand to the bedroom.
She crossed her arms and pulled her satiny top up and over her head, lifting it high to get it free of her cascade of dark braids. Her silver necklace tinkled faintly as it settled back against her chest.
She turned, offering her back to me to make it easy for me to unfasten her lacey beige bra. As it fell away, I slid my hands up to hold her breasts, the nipples now rock-hard. She turned back around and let me admire them, their skin a dark creamy colour with nearly black areolas. They were big enough to be substantial without being big enough to droop in the slightest -- my favourite size and shape of breast. I took the generous nipple of her left breast between my lips and moved my tongue in gentle circles around it as she sighed and laid back on the bed, her glittering bejewelled braids spilling across the white pillow.
I pulled my shirt off and bent down toward her. As I moved my lips to hers and then started sliding them back down her neck toward her chest, she looked up at me, smiled, and said, "Before we go further, there's something I'd like you to do for me."
I paused and waited.
"Tie me up."
I wondered if I had heard correctly. That was absolutely the last thing I expected her to say, and I somewhat stupidly stammered, "What?"
"Tie me up," she repeated. "I love being tied up. I don't like pain, so please don't go there, but I cum three times as hard when I feel totally helpless and at someone else's mercy."
This couldn't be happening. I had often indulged in bondage fantasies in which I had a woman trussed up and helpless while I had sex with her in various ways, and had even tentatively suggested it a few times to women I was dating, but had never been taken up on the idea. Once or twice, even the suggestion ended the date right there, so I had given up even hoping to have it happen. Now, here it was, being offered to me on the proverbial silver platter.
She waited patiently as my mind raced. Since bondage had always been totally in the realm of fantasy for me, I had absolutely no bondage equipment. Yes, I've read the "Fifty Shades" series (twice), and I knew that you can do a lot with neckties and such, but I thought I should be able to do better than that.
After half a minute or so, I said, "I'll be back," and walked downstairs to the closet where I keep miscellaneous household maintenance tools and supplies. I came back with a roll of duct tape and a pair of scissors.
She smiled and rolled over on her belly, arms at her sides, waiting to see what I would do with it. I took her wrists and crossed her arms, one wrist to the opposite elbow, cut two long strips of tape, and wound them several times around each wrist, pinning her arms horizontally across her back. This simple bondage position, which I'd seen on more than one bondage porn video, kept her hands immobilized and out of the way more effectively than just taping her wrists to each other would have done.
I let her roll back to face me. She tested the tape and found it unyielding. I reached down and unfastened the narrow black belt around her fashionable short grey skirt, and she arched her back and lifted her bum slightly. She wasn't wearing panty hose, just a lacey pair of brief panties, more than a thong but certainly skimpy enough to be incredibly sexy. I hooked my fingers in the elastic around the waist and began to slip them down. She lifted her bum again, then raised her legs off the bed so I could slip them all the way down, over her perfectly pedicured and silver-polished toenails, and off. Her vulva was shaved clean, and her pussy lips were visible just above the V of her legs, extending a short way up her mons.
I wadded up the panties, then hesitated. I wasn't sure just how far she wanted to take this bondage thing, and didn't want to spoil the mood by going too far too fast. But I decided that it wouldn't hurt to find out how far she was willing to go. I held the wadded-up panties in front of her mouth.
If she had turned her head away or even just kept her mouth shut, I would have simply laid them beside us on the bed and moved on. But she opened her mouth wide, and didn't resist when I pushed them in, tucking the last bits past her lips with my thumbs. She closed her lips over them and kept them there while I smoothed another piece of tape over her mouth, long enough to cover her face from ear to ear without getting into her hair. I placed a second strip higher, overlapping the first but coming up to just under her nose. A third went lower across her face, almost to the bottom of her chin. That was plenty: those panties were not coming out any time soon.
She worked her lips a bit under the tape, and let out a satisfied-sounding "Mmmpph" through her nose. I guess she wasn't kidding when she said she loved being helpless and at someone's mercy. The sight of her gagged face was an incredible turn-on for me, too. It pushed my feeling of being in total control to new arousing heights.
To finish the picture, I knew I had to do something with her ankles. In porn videos, the usual thing is to tape them together, and maybe add more tape around knees and thighs. This had always seemed a stupid idea to me. I was going to want to explore that pussy, sooner rather than later, and I had no intention of imprisoning it out of reach between her thighs.
I had an idea. I stood up, went to the hall closet, and came back with a broom. She looked slightly anxious as she speculated on what I was going to do with it, but I wasn't interested in using it as a weapon. I unscrewed the broom part and laid it aside, and taped the bare broomstick to one ankle, using several turns of tape so it couldn't slip. Then I taped the other end to the other ankle.