She was sleeping the sleep of the exhausted. He had worked her hard over the past several hours, fucking her over and over again, always in new positions, different locations, testing her and himself. How much sexual stimulation could she take before she began to "chain" -- cumming over and over, orgasm on top of orgasm, until she begged him to stop and begged him to keep going? Could he keep himself from cumming when she did, despite her groans and the spasms of her vaginal walls around his cock as it was buried deep inside that warm, wet haven? How long could he keep pounding that beautiful pussy before he finally exploded in her, filling her deepest crevices with his spunk?
But that was then -- hours ago. Now he had other delights in mind.
The bed she lay in was huge, with the headboard and footboard handcrafted of solid steel, the headboard bolted to the concrete wall of the loft he owned in lower Manhattan. He had spent months designing that bed, making certain that even at the hundredth glance it still looked just like what it was -- beautifully--crafted modern art that just happened to be a bed. It was much more than that, of course. All of those geometric shapes that were cut into the steel, the bars and blocks, some articulated and some stationary, layered over and under and around each other, were actually handholds for him and restraints for her.
He looked at her, sleeping naked on his bed, from a hand--crafted steel chair at the bedside (it was another of his creations and also served other more sexually arousing purposes than just sitting). He was hard again, just from looking at her -- all that luscious, woman's body. It was more than some men wanted, but for him, all those curves and the exquisite softness of her was infinitely more exciting than any hard, emaciated, bony little--girl body. Leave that for the "minimalists." He wanted a WOMAN. He loved the spread of her hips as they cradled his pelvis during sex, the warm, firm pillows for his forearms that were her thighs when he was licking and sucking her pussy and clit. And her breasts! So large that he couldn't close his hands around them, soft and warm and firm. The nipples -- especially the doubled one -- so sensitive that even the slightest puff of warm, moist breath tightened them into erect, rosy nubs. A little ice, and they were hard as pebbles. Those were his favorite part of her body, second only to her warm, wet pussy. His erection grew a little harder at the thought.
As he considered those nipples and the things he liked to do to them, she rolled over onto her back, the opportunity he'd been waiting for, since he didn't want to wake her before he was ready. He gently took one of her hands and guided it into a hole in the headboard, and then dropped and firmly latched a bar into place around her wrist to effectively handcuff her to it. He moved around the bed and secured her other wrist similarly. Next he moved lower, dropping light, moist kisses on the insides of her legs, pausing to give her clit just a few delicious licks, and then he added a steel spreader bar to the cuffs he placed around her ankles. He had found that chain worked better than a spreader bar in some applications, but not today. Yes, chain allowed greater freedom of movement while still quite effectively hobbling her, but a bar kept a subject in the proper position, as well as allowing denial of certain... pleasures. He shrugged slightly. "Different strokes," as the saying went, and then chuckled at the double entendre as he took each ankle and shackled it to the footboard with a length of chain.
As he finished binding her to his bed, his gaze rose back to her tits and the nipples that were his constant delight. He had spent countless pleasurable hours rubbing, squeezing, sucking, licking, biting and nibbling on those delights, and he looked forward to many, many more hours of the same. But for now he wanted something a little different -- he wanted them even bigger and more swollen than normal. So, he took two suction cups from a snakebite kit, placed them over her nipples and squeezed, pulling the deepest suction he could without waking her. Then he kissed her lightly on the lips, and settled back into the chair, absently stroking his cock with one hand and occasionally squeezing and rolling his balls with the other, watching her sleep.
****
She stirred, trying to stretch sleep--stiffened muscles. It took her a few moments to fully waken, partly because she didn't really want to (she'd been dreaming of new and lascivious ways of forcing orgasms from him and was still trying to decide if it could actually work) and partly because she was still tired from all he'd put her through just a few hours ago. Gradually, reality began to sink in as she tried to move again -- and she realized she was bound to the headboard by her wrists, spread--eagled on the bed, her ankles chained to the footboard. When she opened her eyes she saw the snakebite suction cups, bright yellow in the dim light of the early winter morning, laying over at a drunken angle against her DD--sized breasts like Coast Guard bouys; she could feel the suction tug and pull with every breath, forcing her nipples higher, deeper, and thicker into the cups that trapped them.
