Saturday, July 28, 2012

Tied

Author’s note:

This is another attempt at writing a non-fiction story. same catch as last time – if you’re one of my frequent readers, you’re probably expecting a very specific type of story from me and this likely isn’t quite going to be it. I’m embarrassingly tame in real life, so this story may seem alarmingly soft-core compared to my usual writings. For what it’s worth, though, it did actually happen – aside from a name change, this is actually a factual recounting of things that occurred in real life as best as I can remember them. That’s worth something, right?

Also, I've bundled this story with two other non-fiction stories and made it available at "name your own price" on Smashwords. If you have a kindle or some other eBook dealie, you can go there and download a copy. Note that you're free to pay $0.00 for it, but if you like it I'd really appreciate it if you could pay something.

Jen identified as a submissive, but her actual fetish was a little more specific. She enjoyed being dominated and punished, but what she really liked was being used as a sexual object. Her big fantasy was pretty simple: she wanted me to tie her to my bed all day and unceremoniously use her whenever the mood struck. It wasn’t precisely what I was into, but it was close enough that I could make it work.

She arrived at my place around ten in the morning. I had her use the bathroom as soon as she arrived. I planned to keep her tied up for the entire day and I didn’t want to have to untie her for a bathroom break. Once that was done I stripped her completely naked and silently led her to my bed.

I had her lie on her back. Using a soft rope I tied her wrists and ankles to the posts, leaving her very little slack. With her limbs bound I then took another piece of rope that I had slipped under the bed earlier and tied her knees apart. Testing my knots, I found that she was unable to close her legs in any way that would prevent access. Satisfied, I slid a pillow under her head. She was going to spend the rest of the day like that, so I wanted her to be comfortable.

It’s difficult to describe the look that was on Jen’s face when I finished tying her down. There was a lot of desire there, as one would expect – this was her fantasy, after all. There was also a healthy amount of fear, which should also probably be expected – we had been together long enough for her to understand that I have deeply sadistic streaks, and being completely at my mercy for an entire day would almost certainly involve a degree of suffering. Overall, though, she looked happy.

It’s a bit easier to describe her cunt. While Jen’s face may have conveyed a hint of reluctance, her genitals were far more on board with what I was doing. Despite the fact that I hadn’t really done anything to her yet, her wetness was clearly visible. Her clit protruded out slightly, she was very obviously ready to go.

I don’t normally just jump right in and fuck a girl. I generally prefer a bit more lead-in; I like to struggle, dominate, and conquer before I actually fuck. In our situation, though, struggling was improbable – she could barely move, much less fight back. Still, I was kind of horny, and it seemed silly not to use her. After stripping out of my own clothes, I fucked her for about fifteen minutes before cumming in and around her mouth.

Our perceptions of that sex act differ greatly. To me, it was honestly pretty unremarkable. It was adequate, but not otherwise memorable. I saw it more as masturbation using her twat instead of my hand, which is basically what she wanted it to be. It wasn’t bad or anything, but it wasn’t exactly special.

Her perception was the exact opposite, though – she was, after all, living out her fantasy. Even though Jen typically struggled to reach orgasm and rarely came more than once, she managed to cum three times during that short fifteen minutes. She later told me that that had been one of the best sex acts of her entire life. The human mind is a strange thing.

Having finished with her for then, I got up and went to my computer in the next room. I spent about half an hour just dicking around on the Internet, recovering so that I could do something with her again. During that time, I considered what was going on.

I wasn’t thrilled with how her fantasy was playing out. I wasn’t opposed to using her as a masturbation aid, but I wanted more. I like struggle, and she just wasn’t struggling. I suspected that was simply because I was using her in a way that was precisely what she expected and wanted; struggle would have been illogical. If I wanted her to fight back, I’d have to do more than just artlessly shove my dick in her and bounce around until I came.

I thought about things that I could do to her that might inspire some resistance and settled on her pubic hair. Jen kept herself neatly trimmed, but she only shaved the bikini line. She didn’t like the idea of being bald down there – she said that it made her feel cheap and whorish. I don’t generally have a preference for pubic hair, but making her feel cheap and whorish seemed like a fun idea. I especially liked knowing that it would be weeks before it grew back, during which time she’d be forced to constantly remember that I had shaved her. I like lingering in my partners’ minds.

Heading into my bathroom, I grabbed my clippers, some shaving cream, and a razor. I returned to the bedroom and plugged in the clippers. Jen’s facial expression was priceless – she didn’t know exactly what I planned to do with the clippers, but I’m sure she realized it wasn’t anything good.

She managed to remain silent for an impressive amount of time. It wasn’t until I had them plugged in and had taken a seat next to her hips that she could no longer hold her tongue. By then she realized what I was planning to do, and she began to beg me not to. She did not, however, use her safe word.

The mouth of a fuck toy is not for talking, I reminded her calmly.

My reminder worked. She immediately shut up, though the look on her face still conveyed that she didn’t want to be shaved. She pleaded with her eyes, but it was futile – I wanted to shave her, and I wasn’t concerned with her objections.

Switching the clippers on, I slowly began trimming what little pubic hair she had away. She groaned in despair, though there was a modicum of lust in her protests. I’m sure the heavy vibration of the clippers on her crotch contributed to that, but I suspect that a big part of it was psychological. Jen had wanted me to use her as I pleased without any concern for what she wanted; that was precisely what I was doing.

It didn’t take long to remove most of her hair with the clippers, leaving her with nothing but stubble. After switching the clippers off I glanced at Jen’s face, curious as to how she felt about what I had just done. She looked afraid and humiliated, which was to be expected – I believe that was the first time in her life that she had ever had all of her pubic hair removed. Just the same, even though tears had begun to slowly trickle down her cheeks, she still managed to look extremely turned on.

I squirted a small amount of shaving cream onto her crotch and began to rub it around. I took liberties while doing so, occasionally stroking her clit for no other reason than the fact that I could. Each time I did so she moaned slightly. I deeply enjoyed her reaction – it felt like she was trying to repress her moans but unable to.

Once I had her all lathered up I began to carefully shave off the stubble. I worked very slowly – I had time, and I didn’t want to actually cut her. She managed to hold completely still throughout the entire ordeal; I don’t think she was eager to be cut either. Though she whimpered the entire time, she obviously didn’t hate it as much as she would have liked to – even with her crotch covered in shaving cream I could still tell how wet her pussy had grown. Being a gentleman, I pretended not to notice and even made a special effort to avoid touching her clit. I don’t think that she appreciated it.

After about ten minutes of careful shaving her cunt was completely bald. I returned the clippers, shaving cream, and razor to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth. Soaking it in warm water, I returned to the bedroom and carefully cleaned away what little shaving cream still remained on her crotch.

By this point I was turned on and more than ready to go again, but I felt like something was missing. It bothered me that from her perspective she couldn’t really see exactly what I had done – I had put significant effort into shaving her and I wanted her to be able to appreciate that. Grabbing my camera, I snapped off a couple of pictures between her legs. Heading back to my computer, I printed out the one that I felt came out best.

I returned to the bedroom with the printed picture and some blue painter’s tape. Taping it up on the wall right next to the bed, I made certain that she could see her new hairless look in all of its glory. I personally thought it looked nice, and I wanted her to be able to see that as well.

Unfortunately, Jen seemed to still be having some issues with accepting that she no longer had pubic hair. Whimpering pathetically she turned her head away from the picture, refusing to even look at it. I wasn’t angry, but I was a little disappointed with her. Fortunately, I was substantially bigger and stronger than her – forcing her to look would not be a challenge.

Grabbing her hair, I twisted her head so that she was facing the picture. She knew exactly what she was looking at, but I felt that it might help to remind her. I told her that that was her new, hairless cunt and reminded her of what it meant. I explained it meant that as my fuck toy the right to decide the nature of her pubic hair belonged to me, not her, and while I was personally mostly ambivalent about the decision I had shaved her for no other reason than the fact that I could. I reminded her that every single time she noticed her lack of pubic hair over the next few weeks, she’d remember that she was my bitch.

Jen responded with humiliated groaning. I think that she was trying to convey that she didn’t like what I was doing to her, but her ability to convince me was sharply undercut by her own body. As I held her head in place with my right hand, I had slid my left hand down her chest and into her crotch. The extreme wetness of her cunt proved that as much as she might have disliked the fact that I had shaven her consciously, she was absolutely loving it on a more primal level.

I considered fucking her again immediately, but I was too interested in her responses. I liked the internal conflict that I’m sure she was experiencing – I think she wanted to hate the fact that she had been shaved, but couldn’t manage to not be turned on by it at the same time. Continuing to hold her head steady, I began to rub her clit.

Rubbing gently at first, I gradually built speed and pressure. Before long her humiliated groaning had transformed into lustful moaning. Still, I heard some struggle in her voice and I wanted to address that. I pointed out to her that if she really didn’t like being shaved then she probably wouldn’t be moaning like a bitch in heat and her cunt wouldn’t currently be making small puddles on my bed. Her face went bright red in shame, but she still couldn’t stop moaning.

Enjoying the verbal abuse more than I probably should have, I decided to continue down that path. I mentioned that I agreed with her – going completely shaven was extremely whorish and slutty, and absolutely not something that a respectable woman would do. I don’t actually feel that way, but she didn’t need to know that. Each time I backhandedly accused her of being a slut she’d react strongly with a groan of combined lust and shame.

I told her that I had originally planned to simply let the hair grow back naturally, but that I was now having second thoughts. Whores like her didn’t deserve pubic hair, after all – going bald would serve as a constant reminder of her sexual objectification. Terrified, she asked me if I was really going to continue shaving her every time the hair began to grow back.

Normally I like communication – I tend to fuck more verbally than physically. In that situation, though, it felt inappropriate. She was a sex toy, not a human being, and sex toys don’t talk and certainly don’t complain. Twisting her head so that she was facing up, I playfully slapped her across the face. I didn’t hit her hard enough to hurt, but it was certainly hard enough to remind her of her place.

After twisting her head back towards the picture I decided that I probably should answer her question. She didn’t deserve an answer, of course – in her current role she lacked the authority to question me in any way – but it had brought a misconception to my attention. She thought that I was planning to continuously shave her, and that simply wasn’t the case.

I didn’t mind shaving her the first time at all. Her reaction had been extremely entertaining, and it was something that I would consider doing again. However, continuously shaving her seemed more tedious than fun; it felt like I’d be simply giving myself another chore. Calmly, I explained that she would be doing the shaving, not me – I’d simply punish her if she failed to do so. Whimpering, she tried to make it clear that she didn’t like the idea, but her noticeable arousal told a different tale. Personally, I loved the idea – I knew that every time she shaved, she’d remember the ownership that I had claimed and the dignity that I had stolen; and I knew that every time she’d have to struggle with accepting how much she unwillingly enjoyed that idea.

I thought about forcing her to tell me that she understood her new duty, but it didn’t seem right. I had just corrected her for speaking, after all, and it didn’t seem like I needed to get her to agree anyway. I knew that she had heard me clearly, and I knew that she understood. I’d simply punish her if she fucked up.

Continuing to hold her head and force her to stare at the picture of her own shaven twat, I masturbated her to orgasm. I managed to get her off extremely easily – it took less than five minutes, which was very unusual for her. Not only had she cum far more quickly than normal, her orgasm was also noticeably far more intense than usual as well. I don’t know if it was the fact that she was living out a fantasy of hers or it was the fact that she was thinking about how she’d have to keep shaving her cunt against her will, but she came hard. When her orgasm eventually subsided, she was visibly exhausted.

Normally I’d have let her rest a bit before doing anything else. I like my partners to be active and participate; it didn’t seem like she would have had the energy to do so even if she weren’t tied down. At that moment, though, I was okay with that. I was warming up to the idea of using her as an inanimate sex toy; her lack of energy wasn’t a concern.

Watching her cum had been a major turn-on; I was rock hard and ready to go. Without saying a word, I released her hair and climbed on top of her. She pleaded with her eyes to be gentle, but she knew enough to keep her mouth shut. Unfortunately for her, I wasn’t feeling gentle at the moment.

I fucked her hard. Hell, I fucked her harder than I wanted to, just to prove that I could and that she couldn’t do anything to stop me. She was my bitch, and I intended to use her how I pleased; not how she preferred.

Feeling sadistic, I mocked her verbally. I pointed out that a respectable woman wouldn’t have let me shave her cunt against her will, and certainly wouldn’t have remained silent when I ordered her to keep it shaven. A respectable woman definitely wouldn’t have been so incredibly wet after the experience. I outright dared her to say something. She struggled to keep her mouth shut, but she managed to pull it off.

I fucked her hard for about ten minutes before she came again. Still worn out from her last orgasm, I don’t think that she actually wanted to cum again so soon. I didn’t really care, though – forcing a woman to cum against her will isn’t an easy thing to do, but it’s something I deeply enjoy.

Watching Jen struggle against her own orgasm was extremely hot to me; it pushed me over the edge. She was on the pill and we were both free of STDs, but I felt like decorating her instead of just filling her with my cum. Pulling out, I blew my load all over her crotch.

I liked how it looked. There was something exceptionally vulgar about how my cum coated her freshly shaven twat. Without the hair, my semen just felt more visible. I thought she might enjoy seeing how it looked, too.

Grabbing my camera, I snapped off a couple more pictures as Jen whimpered in shame. They were good, but they felt a little redundant – essentially it was the same picture that I had been forcing her to look at, just with cum. I liked the look, but I felt that I could do better.

I grabbed a permanent marker. On her left thigh, I wrote FREE FUCK, with an arrow pointing towards her cunt. On the right, I wrote SPERM BANK and added another arrow. Looking at my work I was happy, but not thrilled – it felt more juvenile than I had intended. I liked the idea of defacing her, but I felt like I could do better.

Since I already had the marker out and she was in no position to stop me, I covered virtually every inch of skin with vulgar graffiti. Jen whimpered a little when she saw the kinds of things that I was writing on her, but she didn’t protest. She knew that she couldn’t stop me, anyway.

Having satisfactorily decorated her, I took more pictures. I got a few of her crotch, but I didn’t limit myself to just that. From her angle, she might have been unable to read some of the things that I had written on her, and I didn’t want her to have to wonder what else I had written. When I photographed her face, I forced her to smile – those came out well, there’s something amazingly vulgar about a smiling face with the word WHORE written on the forehead and cum slowly drying around the lips.

Heading back to my computer, I printed virtually all of them out. It took a long time and I pretty much killed my color ink, but when I was finished I had a stack of some of the most explicitly vulgar pictures I had ever taken. Every single one of them was straight-up pornographic, there was absolutely nothing artistic about them in any way. It was exactly what I wanted.

Heading back into the bedroom, I again grabbed the blue painter’s tape. As Jen watched in horror I taped up pictures all over the room. I covered the walls with them, and even taped a handful of them to the ceiling above her head. By the time I was finished, there was literally nowhere that she could look without seeing a picture of her defaced body.

Jen reacted with groans of shame and lust. I found it extremely erotic – I really loved the way she was struggling internally to accept that she was getting off on being humiliated. Between that and the amount of time that it had taken to print and hang the pictures, I was ready to go again.

I fucked her hard. As she moaned in pleasure, I made certain that she understood what the pictures were for. I let her know that she’d be spending a lot of time tied to the bed, and I didn’t want her to get bored. The pictures would give her something to do – specifically, she could read the things that were written on her and really get a sense for what a disgusting little whore she was. She continued to whimper between moans, but she didn’t verbally object.

After getting her off I came myself. The outside of her cunt was still coated in my cum, and I wanted the inside to match. I drove into her deep before releasing my load – I liked the idea that she’d feel my cum slowly leaking out of her twat while being forced to stare at vulgar pictures of herself. I felt it would make it more difficult for her to ignore her current situation, even temporarily.

After cumming inside of her my dick was covered in our combined juices. It didn’t bother me at all, but I felt like using it to further objectify her. Kneeling down next to her head, I grabbed her by the hair. She obediently opened her mouth to accept my dick. It was a nice gesture, but I just didn’t feel like just having her clean me orally. Instead, I rubbed my dick over her face, coating it with cum as best as I could.

I spent most of the rest of the day using her as she had wanted me to. I’d fuck her for ten to twenty minutes, cum on or in a different part of her body, and then dick around doing mundane stuff until I felt that I was capable of going again. I was starting to really enjoy the situation, and I managed to get it up far more often than I thought I would be able to. I lost count of all the times that I fucked her, but by the time the sun went down nearly every inch of her body had cum on it.

Around eight o’clock I realized that I would have to untie her soon. She was probably hungry, thirsty, and in desperate need of a shower; and though I enjoyed doing horrible things to her I also cared about Jen deeply and didn’t want to actually abuse her. Still, I wanted to do one last thing to her to make the experience memorable before I cut her free.

I grabbed a black t-shirt and pulled it over her head, covering her eyes. After tying it tightly, I turned off the lights to make sure that she wouldn’t be able to see. I figured she had spent the better part of the day staring at humiliating pictures of herself and she could use a break.

Leaving the room, I went to my refrigerator and filled a large plastic cup with ice and water. Returning to the bedroom, I placed it to the side and took a seat next to her. I placed my left hand in the cup and held it there, letting the ice chill my fingers. I held my right hand in my armpit – I wanted to keep that one warm.

Even though I couldn’t see her eyes, I could tell that Jen was nervous. She knew me well enough to know that I was up to something, and she probably desperately wanted to know what that something was. I simply sat in silence for several minutes, letting her wonder.

Once I felt that she had spent sufficient time wondering, I took my right hand and began to caress her body. I was abnormally gentle – though I was groping her, I wasn’t rough. I’m sure that made her suspect something, but it also seemed to calm her. I continued to slide my hand over her skin until she seemed completely relaxed.

Being careful to be quiet, I took my left hand out of the cup. By that point my skin was nearly as cold as the ice water it had been soaking in. After drying it off on the bed so that I wouldn’t drip water onto her, I brought it to her chest and lightly brushed my knuckles against her nipple. Jen inhaled sharply while arching her back, noticeably surprised by the drastically different temperature.

Placing my left hand back into the cup, I continued to stroke her with my right until she had calmed down again. She never really got completely calm – she realized that I wasn’t done with my left hand yet of course – but she did slowly relax.

After a minute or so, I took my left hand to her other nipple. I gently brushed over it again, causing her to inhale sharply in surprise. This time, though, instead of immediately taking it away I lingered a bit, using it to tweak her nipple. It must have been extremely cold; Jen contorted her body violently to try to get away from it. Unfortunately for her, being tied up tightly made her struggle completely futile.

I spent the next ten minutes or so alternating hands. I was careful to keep my right hand warm and my left hand cold, and I did my best to keep as quiet as possible so that she’d have no idea which was coming next. I didn’t just focus on her nipples, of course. I touched her everywhere except for her cunt, hoping to remind her that she would never know where the next touch would be or which hand I’d use.

Before long, Jen began to fear that each time I’d touch her it would be with my cold hand. It was kind of awesome – even when I used my warm hand, she’d initially twitch in fear. She’d calm down once she realized that it wasn’t cold, but there was always that initial reflexive fear. I liked that a lot.

Eventually, though, she got used to what I was doing and it got a little boring for me. I felt that I had built it up long enough, and it was time to go for her cunt. Using my right hand, I spread her lips apart, giving her a false sense of security. Taking the left, I gently brushed it up against her clit.

Jen struggled valiantly. The bucked her hips and did everything she could to prevent me from touching her sensitive clit with my frozen cold hand, but it was futile. Laughing, I leaned over her stomach, holding her down with my weight.

Just as I had done earlier I used mostly my right hand on her, but occasionally switched in my left at random times. She whimpered and squirmed, but managed to remain quiet otherwise. Though she might not have exactly enjoyed the sensation of extreme cold on her clit, she was only growing wetter.

Eventually she worked up enough of a tolerance that I could let my fingers linger without her freaking out completely. It was still clearly uncomfortable for her, but she could handle it. Wanting to push further, I slipped the index finger of my left hand into her and began to slowly finger her.

She struggled to handle the new abuse. Though she had mostly adjusted to the sensation of cold on her clit, having it actually inside of her was a different matter. Her breathing was sharp and she was whimpering, but I could tell that a part of her also enjoyed it. As I continued to finger fuck her she began to softly moan.

I hadn’t initially planned to fuck her again, though that wasn’t because I didn’t want to. It was really more of a logistical issue – I had fucked her so many times that day that I didn’t think that I’d be able to get it up again. I was wrong, though – watching her suffer as I pumped my finger in and out of her, I felt my cock getting hard.

Eventually, she adjusted to the fingering. My hand had warmed up and she had become more accustomed to the feeling of cold, and I was really just finger fucking her normally by that point. Fortunately, by that time I was also fully erect and I had an idea for what to do next.

Removing my hand from her, I picked an ice cube out of the cup. By then it had melted down to less than half of its original size, but I was okay with that. Jen went back to whimpering nervously – I don’t think that she liked that I had stopped fingering her, and I’m sure she was afraid of what I was about to do. It probably didn’t help that she didn’t have any clue what that was going to be.

Taking the ice cube, I slipped it into her cunt and pushed it in. Realizing what I was doing, Jen cried out and began bucking her hips violently while trying to push it out with her vaginal muscles. Climbing on top of her, I stuck my dick into her to hold it in.

Fucking a woman with an ice cube inside her is a unique experience. I wouldn’t describe it as being especially pleasant or unpleasant – just different. She was still extremely wet, though she felt tighter than normal. The different sensation combined with the number I times that I had already cum that day pushed my orgasm back.

After a few minutes, the ice cube had melted. Pulling out of her, I grabbed another cube and stuffed it into her. I continued to fuck her like that, inserting another cube every few minutes. Puddles of water were accumulating beneath her, but at that point I just didn’t give a fuck. Jen cried and bucked, but she also came hard.

Once the final cube had melted, I drove into her deep. Grabbing her ass hard, I pumped her full of what little semen I still had left. I was physically exhausted by then, barely able to move, but I felt satisfied.

Climbing off of her, I turned the lights back on, removed the shirt from her head, and took a look at what I had done. Jen looked like she had been through hell. Her body was covered in sweat, cum, and vulgar graffiti. She was breathing hard and struggling to catch her breath. She was visibly just as exhausted as I was, but she also looked satisfied. Grabbing my camera, I took one final picture. The next day I e-mailed her a copy of that picture, wanting her to have something with which to remember her ordeal.

We broke up several months later over unrelated bullshit. When we broke up I deleted every picture that I had taken of her, as I didn’t want to be tempted to use them to do something evil. I spoke to her a couple years later, though. She still had the one picture that I had sent her, and she still looked at it frequently.

1 comment:

  1. Jesus, that was fucking hot. Jen's a lucky girl. Some of your other stories are more hardcore, but I certainly wouldn't call this (or you) boring or tame.

    ReplyDelete