I have been in the same posture for way too long.
I find it hard to breathe with my chest stuck between my own weight and the bed.
I can't move my hands, which is killing me and, to make it even worse, these handcuffs are way too tight.
I shake my legs when I feel the tingling to avoid them falling asleep. Being upside down doesn't make things any easier. Having the ankles tied even less. I stretch my toes and move my knees. It seems that the blood runs smoothly again. For now.
Immobilized, I can only turn my head: "Why does he take so long? Maybe he hasn't received my WhatsApp message, or maybe something happened to him, he is never this late." And then there is the question that I try to avoid: "What if he doesn't come?"
It's turning out to be a bad day to surprise my boyfriend.
Don't think I'm worried that something might happen to me. No. I'm worried about breaking news: "dead woman found completely naked, lying face down on bed, ankles 5 feet apart and tied to bed, hands handcuffed behind her back, blindfolded, and a note between her knees where you could read:
"Today is a special day, today I am all yours. I am your whore. Do what you want with my body... WHATEVER YOU WANT."
But the worst part is not my breathing problems, numb legs or itchy ankles and wrists. The worst comes from between my legs: that itching, that inhuman heat and that uncontrollable humidity that I can't mitigate with my handcuffed hands.
I thank God when I hear the hinges of the house door squeak. The subsequent door slam tastes like glory to me.
I feel a drop slipping between my thighs just as the door to my room opens and a cool breeze runs through the curves of my bare skin.
Silence.
I don't move an inch. I feel tense from head to toe. For a few moments I think he'll snap and call me crazy and I don't know how many more words.
But I hear nothing. Only his quick breathing.
I feel the air changing as he approaches me.
Silence.
I tilt my face trying to look in the direction where I think he is standing.
I narrow my eyes trying to see through the blindfold. But the red silk ribbon does not let even a glimmer of light pass through.
I smile into the darkness and rest my cheek on the sheet.
I bite my upper lip, forcing myself to remain silent. I would scream for him to fuck me right now, impale me with all his strength, I've never been so turned on, but I bite harder until I hurt myself.
The bed sinks to my right.
I rub my face with the sheet desperate to feel something. Suddenly, a hand caresses falls on my back.
I answer, startled, with a quick movement and turn my head to my right. I don't know where he is, and for a moment I feel stupid thinking that maybe I'm looking in the wrong direction.
A caress on my lips calms me.
The hand on my back begins to feel my skin, going down. He runs over my buttocks with the back of his hand. It's a subtle touch. Made with care and respect. It continues going down the legs until it reaches the scarf that ties my right ankle to the bed. As if he knows what I feel, he massages the area, surrounding it with all his fingers.
Again, the unbearable nothingness, until I hear something drop and move. I imagine my boyfriend unbuttoning his pants and letting them fall to the floor.
The mattress sinks again, but this time the movement is between my spread legs.
I instinctively try to look back, but all I see is black. Pitch. Black.
Ten fingers touch the inside of my calves, one hand on each calf.
They move up.
Slowly, but without stopping. More.
My ass rises instinctively and my anus contracts, dragging with it the vaginal lips in an accomplice wink: It is telling him "I'm all yours."
Being blindfolded sharpens my other senses, especially touch. I can almost see those outstretched fingers reaching my knees, moving up to my thighs, surrounding them, squeezing them...
I whine as I bite my bottom lip. I even think I feel his fingers different from other times, rougher but more cautious. I would almost say that I feel the fear in his fingertips, as if each contact could wake him from his sleep.
The hands keep going up, the fingers covering my ass cheeks, separating them, the thumbs brushing in a very light way my pussy lips. "My God" I scream in my head. And then his fingers touch my anus.
He repeats the move a few times and the situation is already reaching a point of no return. Feeling those fingers so close to my dripping pussy drives me crazy.
Each thumb plays with one of my holes: my anus contracts again and my cunt showers the other.
"Finally,", I think while the finger penetrates me almost unintentionally. He didn't have to force himself, it just slipped inside. It has been like a clueless mountaineer who did not expect that the edge of the precipice was so slippery, and falls, and falls to the dark depths...
I arch my back and my wrists crack inside the handcuffs... I'm dying to hear the noise that mountaineer makes when he hits bottom, but that moment hasn't come yet because the massage moves to my back. I feel my thumb leaving a trail in its wake, as if it were a snail.
His hands reach my shoulders and his elbows reach my hips.
His knees bumping into mine.
Between my legs I feel a breath in the form of a hot breeze that crosses, howling, the cliff of my buttocks.
The hands go down and turn that cliff into a valley full of holes throbbing desperately to be desecrated.
These dark moments of waiting are unbearable.
I move my hands seeking to touch something, but I can only feel air.
A wet contact in my pussy, and my hands open letting out the air they had just collected.
I know it's a tongue, but not seeing it makes the situation extremely kinky.
I feel his cheeks brushing the inside of my buttocks, his tongue tracing my pussy and his tongue plugging my anus.
I have never felt so exposed. I feel a certain uneasiness, especially when the tongue comes up and runs over my buttocks, avoiding the dark ring at the bottom. What if it's dirty? What if...?
My thoughts are immediately interrupted by the pressure on my anus. The tip of the tongue has plummeted in a slow spiral.
What is love? many have asked themselves. I, a simple nurse, tied and spread-eagled to a bed, have found the answer: love is sucking someone's ass. This is Love. Some have said that love is giving something without expecting anything in return... No. Love is giving even if you get shit in return.
And my boyfriend loves me very much... God! The first touches have turned into a brutal asshole pulling. His lips imprison the sphincter, channeling the passage of the tongue into my hole. And again. With each lick I feel myself dilating millimeter by millimeter.
He has always been a bit reticent about anal topics, but today he is making up for it at ease. It turns me on me even more knowing that he is letting himself go as much as I am.
Without leaving my ass aside, he attacks my other little hole with a finger. I get so wet so fast, that he knows his finger will need a reinforcement. He leaves for a moment to return with a new partner.
