"Spread your legs."
I stepped my feet apart. He slowly traced a line with the back of his fingertips from my neck, between my breasts, over my navel, down to my clit, and then cupped my pussy in his hand. I inhaled sharply and my knees buckled. He started to pull on my pussylips, pinching them, teasing me. I moaned with frustration, wanting nothing more than penetration, but he kept tormenting me.
He released my wrists only to reach up and grab my long blonde hair at the base of my neck, forcing my head back. He started to lick and bite at the soft skin beneath my jaw. He moved his mouth up to my ear and sucked on my earlobe. He whispered, still playing with the lips of my cunt, "What do you want?"
"I... in... put them in..."
He smiled, then plunged his fingers into my wet cunt, then out and in again. I barely had time to moan before he threw me on his bed and straddled my stomach. Things had happened so quickly from the moment I walked in that I hadn't noticed his new bed: A queen size four-poster. Being bound spread-eagle was a fantasy I confessed to him in the first few wine-soaked days of our relationship. In the light of sobriety, he teased me about buying ropes. I blushed and turned away. He tried to make me feel better by saying he would tie me up but didn't have a four-post bed; I was too shy to suggest alternatives.
I started to wonder why he bought this bed only after I broke up with him, but I snapped out of my thoughts when he grabbed my left wrist and started wrapping thick nylon rope around it, tying it to one of the posts. He reached over me and started to tie my other wrist, and the feeling of stretched immobility terrified and thrilled me. My smooth armpits tingled at the exposure; my nipples hardened. He smiled wickedly at me before moving to bind my ankles to the posts at foot of the bed. The cool air on my wide-open wet cunt made me whimper.
He stood next to the bed, took off his shoes and belt, unzipped his pants, and took out his stiff cock while appraising my tits and spread pussy. He knelt on the bed in between my legs and rubbed his bell-end in circles around my clit, and I moaned. He leaned down and grazed my nipples with his lips and the tip of his tongue. I gasped and pulled against the ropes, thrusting my hips, wanting desperately to grab a handful of his hair and mash his face into my tits.
He started to tease me with his cock more: rubbing it against my pussy, pushing the tip against the opening, never entering. I struggled beneath him, trying to move down and force his dick into my pussyhole, but he only laughed as the ropes held fast.
He paused and said, "Beg for it."
I glared at him, but my trembling body and writhing hips betrayed my desire. I wanted to outlast him; I hoped his own lust would overcome his willpower, hoped he'd give in to his need to fuck me fast and hard.
He moved down my body, biting my nipples and stomach, licking my navel, biting my inner thighs. I moaned freely, no longer caring about the neighbors on the other side of his walls. He kissed and licked my clit lightly, teasingly. I arched my back and pushed my hips into his face, needing more, but he only drew back out of reach each time. I strained against my bonds and whimpered noises. He smirked.
"All you have to do is beg me for it," he said. He slapped my pussy lightly with the flat of his hand, and I shrieked. This tease was too much. I had been on the verge of orgasm for what felt like an eternity, and my pussy was aching to be penetrated.
"Please! Fuck me! Please, I beg you, just fuck my pussy!" I cried.
Before the words were out of my mouth he thrust his cock inside of me, rubbed his thumb hard on the base of my clit, and sent me over the edge into the wild spasms of my first tied-down orgasm.
