Hi everyone, just a note before you read. This is a true story, writing it is like my therapy! I've categorised it as BDSM, but in comparison to most stories in this category it's pretty light. It didn't feel it at the time- it bloody hurt.
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I won't spend loads of time describing in great detail the exact circumstances of how this happened. I'm Lotty. I'm married. Before my husband, I dated Ben. It was nothing special. I loved him and he was indifferent to me, but I was young and I recovered quickly. I've never had much desire to see Ben again, but our paths crossed on a social networking website. We chatted a little; he'd been married and divorced. To be honest, it sounded like he was having a shit time and I felt for him. We messaged each other for quite some months on and off, straying at times into flirtiness, before he suggested I went round to his house. I knew I shouldn't..... But I did.
I sat outside in the car for quite some time, debating whether it was a good idea to go in. Eventually I did. I was so nervous, that I was actually shaking a little. I'm not the sort of girl who sneaks about like this, and I'm cripplingly self conscious in male company.
We sat on the sofa politely chatting for a while. As anticipated, it progressed and soon we were kissing.
He told me to stand up. Then he used a scarf to blindfold me. Really firmly.
"Can you see?" he asked.
"Not really", was my reply.
"You can still breathe?!" he laughed.
I laughed a little too, "Yes".
Then his arms pulled me close to him. With his face so close that I could feel his lips brushing mine, he whispered, "Can you scream?"
I smiled. I'd love to be able to tell you that I said something perfectly sexy like,"If you make me", but I was a bit nervous still so just smiled stupidly.
He led me a few fumbling steps to the end of the sofa and told me to stand still, which I did. I could hear the noise of cushions on the sofa moving. Then his hands were on mine, slipping them into loops of rope. I realised that those had been there the whole time; the whole time we'd sat there chatting, him asking politely about my kids; he'd laid these out under the sofa cushions before I arrived, in anticipation of what he wanted to do with me.
The loops round my wrist were pulled tight. He reached round me from behind and undid my trousers. Didn't pull them down, just undid them. So then, as he bent me over and lay me over the arm of the sofa they slithered mortifyingly away, exposing my knickers.
I'm so self conscious of my butt. Even my husband has given up bothering to try and see it. But there I was. And very quickly it was all on show, he'd slipped away the last piece of cotton hiding what I ALWAYS keep hidden. I still had my socks on. Oh yes, the mortification just didn't stop. Ass out, socks on.
So. There I was. Face buried in the sofa, burning with embarrassment inside. He pulled away my trousers and knickers from round my ankles and I could feel him moving around somewhere behind me. Then he started looping more ropes round my legs! Like I could have gone anywhere anyway! I was sort of kneeling, bent over the sofa arm so the ropes were tightened round my thighs, legs apart just enough.
Then he moved away again. He was moving around the room, I don't know what doing. I heard a door open, I assumed the door to the kitchen from where the sound came, and felt the cool draught on my bare skin. I could hear him moving around again, this time in the kitchen.
"Right, I'm off out", and I could tell he was smiling. I didn't think he would go out and leave me like this. I don't get much time away from the house without my hubby asking questions, and Ben knows it, so I figured he wouldn't waste the time. But nevertheless, I couldn't shake the tinge of worry from the pit of my stomach. What if he did? What if he's lured me into a set up? Photos on the internet, husband walking in? Oh god.
Again, I would love to tell you that I said something perfect in response, but instead I just said in a pathetic little voice, "You're so mean".
The kitchen door shut.
He was moving around in the living room again. Thank god. My worry subsided a little. He came and stood/knelt/crouched (I don't know, I couldn't see!) behind me. His hands massaged my ass cheeks. He spread them open and gave a little groan, "Lovely Little Lotty". That's what he always used to call me.
I just want to pause a second here. This is true story, it happened a few days ago. I'm not some hot minx, I'm a normal, usually a bit prudish, 29 year old who's married and had two kids. I just wanted to remind you of that so that you can appreciate how intensely embarrassed I felt when he spread my ass cheeks open and called me "Lovely Little Lotty" again after 10 years.
One hand resting on my back, he slid the fingers of his other hand between my legs, feeling the moist warmth, from my clit and then back, inserting his fingers in my pussy. I exhaled with pleasure, and smiling (well, it sounded like he was smiling) he softly said "Slippy girl", but he made the word "slippy" sound long, and kind of leery. My face was buried in the sofa cushions, but it wasn't enough, and I screwed my eyes shut too.
His hand withdrew. It felt like he did too, I couldn't feel him behind me anymore. I heard his belt. The thought I'm about to explain happened in a nano-second although it will take you longer than that to read. Firstly "This is it, he's going to fuck me now. Once we've fucked, that's it. There's no going back, there's no telling my husband, if he ever finds out, that we just chatted. It'll be done. Forever. I'll always know that I've cheated on him". The next thought, "Hang on, Ben wasn't wearing a belt, he was wearing jogging trousers."
As that second thought, or rather, realisation, was formed in my head, it happened. With a loud slapping noise the belt hit me across my bare ass cheeks. I was too surprised to make a sound, but I lifted my head out of the sofa and my mouth fell open in shock.
