Red and Friends

Freud would have an absolute fucking field day with me. Is it unresolved daddy issues? Is it a need to relinquish control after a day of stressful work and responsibility for others? Is it fall-out from my now-deceased marriage to a control freak with zero imagination in bed other than to make me feel worthless? Who knows. What I do know is that, as a single woman with a very new and exciting playing field before me, I find myself looking beyond the 'vanilla' for my kicks.

Take right now. I'm on my back, naked, with my wrists bound to my ankles. It pushes my tits out, and holds my thighs apart -- my knees just fall open, leaving my pussy exposed. My eyes are covered, and my nipples are throbbing in the grip of some deliciously cruel clamps; he'll take them off soon, but only to pinch and roll my nipples in his fingers, pulling them gently and listening to me moan. Then he'll put them back on, knowing that it will hurt but knowing that I'm nowhere near my safe-word. It scares me how much I like it when the pain comes, flooding my nervous system in a hundred different ways, making a junkie of me. Everything is darkness but I can see him clear as day, his shining eyes drinking me in as I become a creature of instinct, reacting to sensations and not quite capable of conscious, rational thought.

He can't play with the clamps just yet, as his hands are busy. One rests gently at my throat, not squeezing but reminding me that he could squeeze at any time. The other -- well, the other is slapping my pussy gently, as regular as a metronome, making a noise like a young child jumping in a puddle. I gasp every time his fingers land on my lips, splashing in the juices that coat my pussy and thighs, tapping just a little too fast for me to catch my breath. I'm not breathing, I'm panting -- my body shaking, my thighs straining, arching up into his touch.

His hand leaves my throat and trails gently down my chest. His touch is feather-light, the merest caress, but the softness only lasts until his fingers snag the chain joining the clamps together. He tugs, the clamps tighten, and my mouth opens wide -- the shaky moan that I hear sounds nothing like me... the 'normal' me, anyway. This is a whole other me, reduced to a vocabulary of three words: 'more', 'harder' and 'safe'. I'm through the looking glass now, and all the sensation I want and need is there for the taking... and my God, do I want to take it.

I feel weight shifting, and flinch as soft lips touch mine. Oh my, his wife has decided that just watching is no longer enough. Gently, so gently... but it's all about distraction and misdirection. I'm loving her kisses so much that I don't notice her hands moving to my breasts -- until she snaps the clamps open and releases my abused nipples. She seals her mouth to mine, stifling my yell as the blood returns to my nipples with that throb that I love so much. Even in this masochistic haze, I don't forget how gorgeous this is, breathing my joy and pain into the mouth of a friend who is so much more.

He's got the gloves on now, the latex that makes it all a bit more kinky -- I know that sound as he snaps them taut. It will be the lube next... yes, there's the cap opening. A pause of seconds or hours, as Red keeps me on edge with her kisses and her clever fingers on my nipples. Then... he just forces me wide open, bunched fingers sliding into me and turning, twisting, forcing me to stretch tight around the intrusion. I know that my clit is hard and angry red, I can feel it exposed and I want him to touch it so badly -- I arch my hips upwards in a wordless plea. But not yet. This is all about seeing just how much I can take... fuck, is he trying to fist me? That's never happened before and I start to tense up, a little fear creeping in to the fog of arousal. No, I can see it now despite the blindfold -- I know he's staring avidly at my pussy, opening and closing as he pushes three, maybe four fingers in and out to the same rhythm as he slapped me -- too fast to properly catch my breath. He's pushing, literally and figuratively, but not further than I can take. I'm lightheaded with all this panting, or with the arousal, or the wine, or fuck knows what -- I just know that right now, I never want to be the other, rational, level-headed me ever again.

I come -- I generally do. Tied down, a beautiful ache in my nipples, pussy gaping wetly around what felt like a whole hand, close to losing it... and that's when Red decided to touch my clit oh so gently, rubbing a finger either side, sliding against the hood and avoiding the actual tip with wicked precision. Both of them felt me starting to tip over the edge; he pushed his fingers deep into my pussy and held them still, leaning hard into me, Red simply closed her fingers, scissoring my clit between them. My movement did the rest -- and God, I was loud, groans becoming ragged cries. My back bowed till only my shoulders touched the ground, my hips headed for the ceiling, my tits shook, my reddened nipples throbbed, but their cruel, knowing hands never missed a beat, filling me up and squeezing my clit as I clenched and writhed, helpless and soaring.

... and that was only the start.