What the hell possessed me to agree to this?
We have a support post right smack in the middle of our living room. It’s always been a nuisance. I look up at my arms stretched above me. What an understatement now.
My wrists are cuffed together then secured to the post with a rope. I’m naked and Nick has just walked back in the room with a bowl from the kitchen and an evil look in his eye. He still has his clothes on, jeans and polo shirt, and the contrast is disturbing in some nerve wracking way. I yank, trying to free my arms. I’m good and stuck. If I want to hide my body from him, I can’t. My breasts are out there in plain view, exposed and vulnerable. A familiar tightness gnaws inside me, like a hundred little bugs scratching at me, begging to get loose. If things go wrong, I’ll panic again.
“Relax,” he tells me, but the mischievous sparkle doesn’t fade from his eyes. “I won’t touch them with my mouth until you ask me to.”
Yeah right. “If I don’t?”
He lowers himself onto his knees and gives me a steady look. “Then I won’t.” With a smirk, he lifts an ice cube from the bowl. “But you will.”
My eyes must be wide as saucers as I watch him approach my nipples with the cube. Futilely, I lean to the side, trying to get away. The dull pain from the handcuffs reminds me that I asked for this. I take a deep breath and remain still.
The ice cube hits my nipple and I gasp and flinch back. God damn that’s cold.
“Look at it, Sid. Look at how hard they are.”
I look down and see my rosy pink nipples, firm and pointy like little targets for a curious mouth. I pull against the cuffs again. Oh please let him fulfill his promise not to touch them. He circles one nipple with the ice and the water drips down my belly, leaving tingles in its wake. Then he moves to the other nipple. I’m surprised to feel a slight stirring between my legs. My mouth opens. Mesmerized, I watch his fingers only an inch away from me, my skin, my areola. The ice doesn’t hurt. And it definitely doesn’t tickle. Goose bumps dot along my breasts. A drop of water hangs from one nipple. I imagine his soft tongue licking it off and I feel a rush of heat to my middle.
Nick looks me in the eye, excitement brimming in the depths. “I can warm them up for you. All you have to
do is ask.”
His warm mouth on my nipples. I shudder. The stirring between my legs becomes a little hotter, melting like the ice. If he put his fingers on my lower lips, would they come away wet?
I never have thoughts like this.
“Okay,” I rasp. “You can lick them.”
The way he studies my breasts as if wondering where to start, creeps me out a bit. Knotted with anxiety, with my very skin constricting, I stop breathing and clench my fingers. The handcuffs clink. But he doesn’t touch me. He exhales a warm breath and heat swirls around my nipples, shooting through my body like hot little sparks.
I moan and strain toward his mouth. “More.”
He looks up at me. “Who’s in charge here?”
I bite down on my lip to keep back a smart-ass remark. But he obliges me and blows hot air on the nipple. Then his tongue inches out, softly flicking the tip. First one then the other. I can’t stop staring at him teasing me.
It’s so novel for this to be pleasurable, so wonderful, and every little tingle is mimicked below. My need rises to a fever pitch. He swirls his tongue around each nipple, warming me to my core. I squeeze my thighs together and, for once, the idea of him taking me inside his mouth and sucking is exactly what I want.
After one last lick, he sits back and looks me over. His gaze heats me up as much as his tongue did. My breasts seem heavier, fuller.
A sly smirk touches his face then he rises. “I’ll be right back,” he says and disappears upstairs.
Apprehension fills me. What is he doing now? My arms are starting to ache. My knees are getting sore. I wriggle to get more comfortable but it’s useless. I’m stuck until Nick finds it in his heart to release me. This thrills me at the same time as frightening me. I can always say “red”, I remind myself. It’s like a mantra now.
Nick returns. He's undressed and has the pink penis-shaped vibrator I call the Throbbinator and a bottle of lube. His erection is far more impressive than the plastic device but my breath quickens as I watch him pour the lube on the vibrator.
The awful memories of my past overwhelm me. Penis or vibrator – both equal pain and discomfort.
“You’re not putting that in me, are you?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing.” Before I can protest again he rubs it against my clit and my muscles relax into the sensation. The rhythmic pulse is exquisite.
With one warm hand clasping my waist, he steadies me. The romance novels speak of the smell of arousal. I understand now, and lodge it in my memory. Even without sight I’d know Nick was here, beside me, wanting me.
My clit swells and I press my groin forward. Need rises. Delicious heat fills me.
“Yes. That’s good.” I close my eyes as he slides it back and forth, coaxing my clit to engorge. So tight and slowly getting tighter, harder.
As the vibrator tip ventures an inch along my slit. I jump in surprise then wiggle to dislodge it. “No,” I demand nervously. “Not in my lady parts.”
The easy way it glides between my labia lets me know how wet I am. I’ve never, ever been like this. So…what’s the word they use in historical novels? Wanton. Yes, that. I suck in a breath.
With a twist of the tip and a big push, it’s inside me. Gah! I didn’t expect it and immediately tense up. This is so foreign and strange and I want it out. “Stop! Take it out!”
Nick strokes a hand down my neck and soothes me. “Shh.”
He adjusts the vibrator, moving it forward a bit until the bulbous base throbs on my clit as well as within. The way it buzzes on me, the tiny jiggling of my clit – I zero in on that intense feeling. It’s just right. My muscles clamp onto the hard plastic. My hips tilt in a primitive response. My neck tenses and I quiver, caught and waiting, waiting…
Pleasure hits. I buck against the vibrator, pulling on my restraints. A strangled moan escapes my parted lips as a soft wave of heat ripples through my body.
My panting subsides. Oh. My. God. I’ve orgasmed here – tied to a pole. Incredible.
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P.S. Battle of the Davids was a tie. Both men were just too tempting and I felt ill-prepared to make a final decision. Therefore, both Davids make it to the Column of Manliness (yes, I know that's a really lame name, but it is what it is).