Femdom

I’d been trying to bring bondage into our relationship for a few months. As a little girl, I’d always enjoyed games that involved tying each other up, be it cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, whatever. I’d evolved into somewhat of a switch, finding almost equal joy in restraining and toying with others as I did being restrained.

My boyfriend had resisted all my attempts, citing weirdness, uncomfortablitiy, claustrophobia, and that he “didn’t want to do that” to me. After months of discussions to what bondage actually was and what it entailed (as opposed to the leather whips and chains misconception), he’d relented and started experimenting.

There was always a D/s aspect to our relationship. Inevitably, when one or both of us wanted to fuck, one or the other would assume a dominant role. He enjoyed having me get naked in front of him, and pushing my head down when I blew him. I enjoyed toying and teasing him until he couldn’t stand it any more.

We’d progressed to the point where we’d brought handcuffs into sex. “Here, put these on,” I told him, tossing him a pair of short linked cuffs as he walked into the bedroom one night. “Oh no, no no babe,” I told him as he started to slip them on. “Behind the back.”

He raised an eyebrow before shifting his arms behind him and clinking them shut. I walked over to him smiling, taking in the gorgeous sight of his helpless body. He was 5’11, towering compared to my 5’2, skinny at a little over 150 pounds, but all muscle.

I noted with some satisfaction that the bulge in his shorts had grown considerably larger. I’d worn a thin black tank top that showed all the cleavage my 36B breasts could afford. My white sweatpants did little to hide the black thong I wore, showing off my built ass and legs. At 130 pounds, I was very nearly a physical match for him. It made things like this all the better.

“My, I do like having you helpless,” I said with a smile, tracing my hand up his leg and brushing his hard 7’’ cock. I walked around behind him to find that he, once again, had cuffed himself loosely affording some means of escape.

“Well, not completely helpless,” I said to a questioning look by him. Before he could react, I tightened both wrists, locking him in until a time when I felt merciful.

“What’s the matter baby?” I cooed at his nervous look. “Did I ruin your safety net?” His look confirmed my comment. “Don’t worry, I’ll play nice.” I grabbed his cock and stroked it through his pants. Some of the nervousness faded into arousal as he loosened up, albeit slightly. “I love toys…and that’s what you are for me tonight. A toy.”

His gaze softened at that, getting more into the mood.

“Now,” I said, walking around him once more, allowing my eyes to wander lecherously, making him feel dirty for once. “You might be bigger and stronger than me, but none of that matters now,” I eyed him slyly, making sure he saw my eyes flit to his cock again. “But I think I need to be at a bit more of an advantage. I pulled myself close, breathing on his neck, pressing my body against him, increasing his arousal. I gave his ass a playful squeeze before running them up his body and slipping my hands under his thin and weathered T shirt.

It had several holes throughout over years of use and abuse, though it wasn’t one of his favorites. I deftly threaded my fingers through some of the holes, and in one swift motion ripped the fabric off his body.

Before he could protest I put a finger to his lips and ran the other hand up and down his bare chest, taking great care to run my fingertips lightly over his six-pack, down to the edge of his shorts. Smiling at him I slid the fingers an inch beneath the waistband, just car enough down so they brushed the tip of his cock, causing him to gasp suddenly before returning them to their place around his waste.