I Said Use Me

We were never supposed to be this close.

Lacey and I met a year ago through an online dating app. We had that kind of instant click that made both of us think, "This might actually go somewhere." But after a few dates--laughs over sushi, a hike that turned into a mud-fight, and a semi-disastrous attempt at paddleboarding--we both agreed that while romance wasn't quite in the cards, something else was. Something lighter. Stranger. A little messier in the best possible way. Friendship, but with quirks.

Since then, we've been each other's go-to sounding boards for all things weird and wonderful. Especially dating stories. If one of us had a trainwreck Tinder match or a weird Bumble banter session, the other would be the first to hear about it.

Which brings me to a late Thursday night not too long ago. I was on my couch, lazily scrolling through messages, when Lacey pinged me on Messenger.

Lacey: "So. How's the catgirl?"

I chuckled. I had matched with a girl earlier that day who was dressed head-to-toe in a latex catsuit, complete with ears, whiskers, and--yes--a collar.

Me: "Honestly, the tail freaked me out. But I'm not opposed to a collar. Just... the rest is a bit much."

Her response came with frightening speed.

Lacey: "Wait. Hold up. You're okay with a collar?"

Me: "Haha yeah. I guess. It's just a bit... I dunno. Not totally foreign to me."

Then there was a pause. I stared at the little typing bubble for a full thirty seconds before the message finally landed.

Lacey: "Do you have a kinky side?"

I hesitated. Not because I didn't know the answer--but because I really did.

Me: "Massively. You sure you want to go down that rabbit hole?"

Lacey: "Only if you take me with you."

And just like that, the tone of our conversation shifted. Slowly, cautiously, like peeling off layers of clothes you didn't even know you were wearing.

I told her about my gear. About the stash I kept hidden in a locked chest in my closet--restraints, cuffs, collars, gags, blindfolds, ropes, harnesses. About how I practiced self-bondage regularly, always crossdressed. How there was something about the helplessness, the control, the complete surrender that electrified me.

To my surprise, Lacey didn't freak out. She didn't laugh.

Instead, she responded with something simple.

Lacey: "I've done it too."

She told me about an old partner she tried bondage with. Light stuff--scarves, handcuffs from a novelty shop. It had been her idea, but he never really got it. She tried tying herself up, using silk sashes and belts from her bathrobe. Sometimes she'd masturbate with one hand while the other was trapped. Sometimes she'd just close her eyes and imagine what it would feel like if someone else was doing it to her.

"It's relieving," she said. "To talk to someone who actually gets it."

We stayed up that night until nearly 3 a. m., swapping fantasies and favorite stories. I sent her a few pictures--not explicit, just enough to show her the kinds of outfits I wore and how I rigged up pulley systems in my closet for solo bondage.

Lacey, in turn, told me how her heart raced the first time she knotted a scarf around her ankles and couldn't get free. How much she wanted someone to tease her, control her, take charge--if she could trust them.

And then came the next night.

Just one message.

Lacey: "Hey. This might seem forward, but would you like to tie me up?"

My heart stopped. Not out of fear. Out of thrill.

Me: "I thought you'd never ask."

---

We spent the whole night talking. Not sexting, not fantasizing aimlessly--planning. We discussed boundaries, safe words, the kinds of restraints she liked and didn't like. She liked leather cuffs. She hated duct tape. She'd never tried gags but wanted to. She liked being teased. Loved being teased. Wanted to be restrained, humiliated a little, but not hurt. I told her about sensory play, denial, edging, control. She asked if she could try a blindfold. I said yes.

And before we ended the chat, she said one thing that made my chest flutter.

Lacey: "Next time you're in town... you should stop by."

---

We had two weeks to plan.

We talked logistics like we were arranging a heist. I asked what gear she had and what I should bring. She said she wanted the experience to be a surprise--"Use your imagination," she said.

We created a safeword, discussed limits again, and Lacey even sent me a few photos of outfits she might wear for the night. Lace lingerie. A silk robe. A simple collar.

"I want to be vulnerable," she wrote. "But safe."

The day of my visit arrived faster than expected. I drove the three hours with a carefully packed duffel bag in the trunk, my heart thudding with anticipation.

At exactly 7:46 p. m., I got her message.

Lacey: "I won't be able to get to the front door. Key's under the pot. Come in quietly."

My mouth went dry. The pot was right where she said. The key--cool metal in my hand--felt like the start of something.

The house was dark except for the hallway lamp. I let myself in, heart hammering. No sounds. Just a folded note taped to the closed bedroom door.

Scrawled in her handwriting:

"Use any and all equipment I've left out. Use your imagination. Use me. Give me a night to imagine."

I took a deep breath and opened the door.

---

The bedroom was warm with dim, amber light from a single bedside lamp. The air smelled faintly of her perfume--sweet, floral, with a musky base that made my stomach clench with want. My eyes swept the room, drinking it all in.

She had set the stage perfectly.

A padded bench was pulled into the center of the room, a bundle of neatly arranged gear laid out on top: leather cuffs, a blindfold, two lengths of silky rope, a ball gag, and what looked like a vibrating wand. There was also a handwritten note on top of the pile.

"I'm in the bathroom. Take your time. I'm yours tonight."

I walked slowly around the room, brushing my fingers across the soft leather restraints, the smooth lacquer of the wand's handle. Everything was clean, carefully chosen, deliberately presented. She was trusting me completely.

My bag was still slung over my shoulder, heavy with my own favorite toys--custom cuffs with locking buckles, a silk hood, clamps, and my favorite adjustable spreader bar. I laid them out next to hers, feeling a little flutter in my chest.

I knocked gently on the bathroom door.

"I'm ready when you are," I said, my voice low, calm.

There was a pause.

Then I heard the click of the lock turning.

The door opened an inch... then two... then Lacey stepped out, barefoot and slow, like a scene from a dream.

She wore a delicate black babydoll, sheer enough to see the lace beneath. A simple satin ribbon tied at her throat. Her makeup was subtle but smoldering--dark mascara, a hint of shimmer at her cheeks, and lips just barely tinted rose.

She looked at me with wide, cautious eyes.

"Hey," she said softly.

I stepped closer. "Hi."

We stood in silence for a moment, the electric kind. She tilted her head up toward me.

"You're sure about this?" I asked.

"I've never been more sure," she whispered.

I brushed my thumb over the ribbon at her neck. "Then let's begin."

---

I took her hand and led her to the bench, sitting her down gently. I could feel her trembling--not from fear, but anticipation.

"I'm going to undress you slowly," I said. "You'll keep the collar. Everything else... mine to remove."

She nodded, biting her lower lip.

I knelt in front of her, sliding my hands up her thighs, fingers tracing the hem of her lingerie. I took my time, pushing it up and over her hips, revealing the soft curve of her stomach, the lace of her panties. She leaned back slightly, allowing me to pull the fabric over her head and off her arms. She wasn't wearing a bra.

I paused to admire her--vulnerable, flushed, and beautiful.

"I'll bind your wrists first. Hands behind your back. Trust me?"

"Yes."

I used her own cuffs at first, gently securing her wrists behind her back with a satisfying click. The leather was soft, but the buckle was firm. I cinched it just enough for her to feel controlled, but not strained.

Next, I knelt behind her, drawing her hair away from her neck, and slipped the blindfold over her eyes. Her breath hitched.

"Still good?" I asked softly.

She nodded. "Perfect."

With her sight gone, I could see her body responding to every small touch--shoulders twitching when I brushed her collarbone, thighs tightening when I ran a hand along her inner leg.

"Open your mouth," I whispered.

She did. I slipped the ball gag between her lips. It was small, soft, meant for beginners. She closed her teeth around it, moaning just slightly as I buckled it behind her head.

Now she was completely under.

Sightless. Mute. Bound.

Mine.

---

I took my time exploring her body. Kissing the tops of her thighs. Teasing her nipples with feather-light flicks of my tongue. Every little sound she made through the gag made my cock throb--whimpers, gasps, the subtle shift of her breath as she melted deeper into submission.

I used one of my silk ropes next, looping it slowly around her torso, pinning her arms tighter to her back and wrapping under her breasts. Her body arched into it, loving the pressure.

Then I added the spreader bar, strapping her ankles apart just enough to expose her completely. She shivered as I did it, breath stuttering.

I leaned in close and whispered into her ear. "I'm going to edge you. Over and over. You'll beg without words. You'll scream through that gag, and I won't stop until I decide you've earned it."

She let out a desperate sound, head tipping back.

I knelt between her legs and used my fingers first--slow, rhythmic, gentle pressure. She was already soaked. I circled her clit lazily, listening to every reaction.

Then I picked up the wand.

When I turned it on and pressed it against her, she jumped--then moaned so hard the gag muffled her into a sob. Her hips bucked immediately, legs straining against the bar.

She started to build toward climax fast. I could feel it in the way her body tensed, the way her back arched. Just as she was about to tip over--

I pulled the wand away.

Her whole body screamed in silence.

She thrashed against the cuffs, helpless, gagged, shaking her head wildly. I leaned close and kissed her neck.

"Not yet."

I waited thirty seconds--just long enough for her to pant, struggle, beg--then did it again.

And again.

Four times in total.

By the fourth edge, her body was trembling, slick with sweat, and she was trying to grind against the air. When I whispered, "Do you want to come?" she nodded violently.

I slipped the gag from her mouth.

"Yes--please--oh God please."

"Good girl," I said. And pressed the wand back to her clit.

She came within seconds, crying out loud and long, her body shaking under the weight of it. It rolled through her in waves, again and again, until she collapsed forward against the ropes, spent and gasping.

I cradled her gently. Held her until the shivers stopped. Slowly, carefully, I began to undo the restraints--first her ankles, then the ropes across her chest, then her wrists. I slid the blindfold up and kissed her forehead.

---

I brushed her damp hair back from her forehead, watching her chest rise and fall. Her eyes were still glazed, her lips parted in soft, uneven breaths.

"You okay?" I asked gently, letting my hand rest over the curve of her ribs.

Lacey gave me a slow, delicious smirk.

"That," she murmured, "was amazing..."

Then her smile turned sharp, mischievous. Her gaze slid over my shoulder, toward the bench.

"... but that was surely just a warm-up, right?"

I raised an eyebrow.

She bit her lip, then nodded toward the silver glint of the clover clamps. "Those look like fun."

The air between us changed--subtle, charged. My pulse quickened.

"You're asking for more already?" I teased, brushing a finger just under her chin.

"I'm begging for it," she said, breathless. "When I said use me, I meant it."

God, the way she looked at me--bratty, confident, trembling with desire beneath the sass--it lit something up in my chest. The trust, the heat, the way she wanted to be taken.

"Then get on the bed," I growled. "Hands and legs spread. You're not moving until I say so."

She scrambled back onto the mattress, eyes shining. "Yes, Sir."

---

I tied her spread eagle--tight. Wrists looped in soft restraints to the top corners of the bed frame, ankles to the bottom, her body pulled taut and open. Vulnerable. Exposed. Gorgeous.

Lacey writhed a little as she tested the bindings.

"God, this is hot," she said. "You tying me up like a cheap toy--"

Smack.

I brought my hand down hard on her inner thigh, making her gasp.

"Brat," I muttered. "You want to be used like a toy, don't you?"

"Yes," she panted. "I want to be your toy. Just a wet little thing to play with--"

I slapped her again. This time across her other thigh. She yelped, moaned, then giggled breathlessly.

"You think you get to be mouthy and get off?" I asked.

"I think," she said, squirming as far as the ropes allowed, "you like when I'm a little mouthy."

I grabbed the clover clamps from the bench. She watched me through narrowed eyes, pupils blown wide.

"Last chance to back out," I warned, kneeling beside her.

Lacey shook her head, breathing hard. "Do it. Make me scream."

I opened the jaws of the clamp and teased her left nipple first, pinching and tugging it before clamping down.

Her back arched immediately. "Oh fuck--"

"Too much?"

She groaned, her thighs twitching. "No--no, it's perfect. Hurts so fucking good."

The second clamp followed, tighter. She was squirming now, straining in the ropes, her chest heaving as the clamps bit and held.

"You like this pain, don't you?" I leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "You like being humiliated, being bound and aching and helpless."

"Yes--yes--please keep going, don't stop."

I sat back and admired her: stretched wide, nipples clamped and trembling, dripping between her thighs, her eyes wild with desire.

"You're such a fucking mess," I said. "You came once and now you're begging for more like a filthy little slut."

She whimpered. "I am. I'm your slut. Your toy. I want you to ruin me."

---

I picked up the wand again, turned it on low, and held it just an inch from her clit.

The vibrations teased the air, and she tried to push her hips toward it--but the restraints held her in place.

"Beg," I said.

"Please. Please let me come--please use me. I'm so close already, I can't--fuck, please--"

I pressed it against her.

She screamed.

Her thighs tried to slam shut, her body shook--but she was wide open, helpless. She surged toward climax in seconds, moaning, gasping--and then I pulled it away.

"No--NO! Why did you--" She sobbed. "You're so mean."

"You'll thank me later," I growled. "You'll come harder than you ever thought possible. But not yet."

I slapped the inside of her thigh again--hard enough to make her cry out. "Dirty little thing. You don't deserve it yet."

I edged her again.

And again.

Each time bringing her right to the edge, watching her twitch and shake and plead--until she was a wreck. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her lips swollen from begging.

"Tell me what you are," I said, circling her clit with one finger.

"I'm your whore. I'm your bound little slut. Please, please fuck me--fill me--make me yours."

My cock ached, swollen and slick, already leaking from watching her fall apart. I stripped quickly, climbing between her legs. I lined up and pressed the head of my cock against her--slowly, teasing.

She whimpered. "I need it. I need to feel you inside me."

"Then take it."

I thrust in--deep, all the way. She cried out like it was relief and pleasure and more than she could handle all at once.

Her cunt gripped me tight, wet and pulsing, clamped nipples jiggling with every movement.

I fucked her slowly at first, watching her beg between gasps, then harder, rougher, each thrust rocking her in the bindings.

"Tell me you're mine," I growled.

"I'm yours! God--I'm all yours--please let me come--"

"You'll come when I say."

My hand wrapped around her throat lightly, just holding her there as I pounded into her.

She was shaking again--so close--eyes wide with desperation.

"Now," I said. "Come. Now, you filthy little slut."

She exploded.

Her whole body tensed and spasmed, clenching around me as she screamed, the orgasm tearing through her like a wave. I kept fucking her through it--fast, deep, raw--until my own release crashed through me with a growl. I came inside her, hard, emptying everything as she writhed beneath me.

---

When we both stilled, gasping and twitching, I kissed her lips, her cheek, her sweat-soaked forehead.

"You did so good," I whispered.

She gave a dazed little laugh. "I've never felt anything like that before."

I slowly unclipped the clamps, catching her nipples as they throbbed back to life. She whimpered, then smiled.

Lacey lay sprawled on the bed, flushed and twitching, her lips parted in a dazed smile. I leaned in, brushing a kiss to her collarbone, then whispered in her ear:

"Still got a bratty streak in you?"

She chuckled, breathless. "Always."

I raised an eyebrow and let my fingers trail down the side of her breast. "Want to see a couple of other things I brought with me?"

Her eyes flicked open--curious. "What kind of things?"

I reached over to my bag on the chair and pulled out the black leather arm binder and the hood with the inflatable gag. I didn't say anything--just let her take them in.

Her breath hitched.

"That's... intense," she murmured, licking her lips. "That's not for a warm-up, huh?"

"No," I said, stepping closer. "This is for when the brat needs to be taught a lesson."

Her eyes glittered. "Then what are you waiting for?"

---

I untied her wrists and ankles, helping her stretch and shake out the soreness with soft touches and kisses. Then I took her arms, gently but firmly, and guided them behind her back.

The leather of the arm binder slid up her skin as I zipped it, slowly drawing her elbows together. She winced slightly at the pressure, but nodded.

"Color?" I asked.

"Green," she said instantly, biting her lip as her chest pushed out, breasts full and vulnerable. "Fuck, that feels... hot."

I ran a hand over her hip, letting her adjust to the restriction. Then I picked up the hood.

"Sure about this?" I asked, holding it up, showing her the gag with the bulb dangling below.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I want it. Restrain me. Shut me up. Make me feel it."

With care, I pulled the hood over her head, zipping it at the back. Her world narrowed instantly--blinded, muted, anonymous. Her breathing quickened.

Then I slid the gag into her mouth and gave the bulb a slow pump.

Her moan was muffled now--deep, needy.

I did two more pumps. Just enough to fill her mouth and silence her almost completely.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this," I whispered into the ear of the hood. "My helpless little toy."

She moaned again, shifting her weight in anticipation.

---

I helped her down onto the bed, guiding her onto her stomach. Then, slowly, deliberately, I tied her into a strict hogtie--arms already bound tight behind her, ankles pulled back and lashed to the D-ring on the binder. Her whole body arched, breasts pushing into the sheets, ass up in the air and legs spread wide.

A perfect display.

I stood back and admired the sight, slowly stroking myself as I watched her squirm in place. Muffled little whines escaped the gag.

"Oh, poor thing," I teased. "All trussed up and nowhere to go."

She wriggled, hips rocking, clearly wet again.

I reached for the wand.

The moment it buzzed to life, she stiffened. I placed it lightly against her clit, just teasing the edge--then pulled it away.

She groaned, trying to thrust into it, but the bondage held her firm.

"You look so desperate right now," I whispered. "You know I could leave you just like this. Helpless. Dripping. All night."

She thrashed. A protest.

I chuckled.

"But I won't. You've been good. Kind of."

I teased her more--riding that line, watching her struggle and squirm with every pulse of the wand. Her body begged for release even if she couldn't say a word. When I finally reached up and deflated the gag, she gasped, sucking in breath, hood still wrapped tight around her face.

"Oh my god," she panted. "I need you. I need your cock. Please, use me. Fuck my mouth--let me be good for you."

I didn't hesitate.

I helped her onto her side, then onto her back, carefully guiding her mouth toward me. She opened wide, tongue already out.

Her lips wrapped around me, and I began to thrust--slow at first, then harder, deep. She moaned around me, doing her best to match my rhythm even bound and blind.

Her effort, her helplessness, her desire--it drove me wild.

When I'd had enough of her mouth, I slid out, smirking down at her slick, flushed body.

"You're still not done."

I unfastened her legs from the hogtie, letting them drop open, then pulled her toward the edge of the bed. Her knees spread easily, thighs shaking.

I knelt behind her, grabbed her hips, and slid back into her soaking cunt in one hard, brutal thrust.

She screamed--voice ragged, hoarse, grateful.

"Is this what you wanted?" I growled, pounding her harder. "To be tied up, blind, gagged, used like a fucking toy?"

"Yes!" she cried. "Fuck, yes, don't stop--use me, own me--please--"

My fingers dug into her waist as I drove into her, each thrust rougher than the last, the sound of our bodies echoing in the room.

Her head fell back, hooded, muffled moans still spilling from her lips.

"You're mine tonight," I said. "Every hole. Every inch. My filthy little whore."

She came hard--writhing, screaming, shaking.

I didn't stop.

Not until I followed, spilling inside her again, panting, sweating, still wrapped in the haze of her scent and the sound of her blissed-out whimpers.

---

When I finally untied her, I kissed her everywhere. Her wrists, her forehead, her thighs. She melted into my arms.

"Jesus," she whispered, exhausted. "That was... next level."

"Too much?"

She smiled lazily. "Not even close."