Asking For It

Writer's Note: This wasn't a story I planned, but just a scene that developed from a kernel into this. Let me know if you would be interested in more chapters -- unlike most of my stories, I didn't plan further chapters out but I can imagine where it might go.

Helena was already an outlier, a unicorn really: a young woman from a perfectly normal background who was not just wildly adventurous, but obsessed with the darker corners of sex. The idea that this sweet 19-year-old, who should be rushing a sorority, was instead looking for someone to tie her up was already too much to believe. But then add in her fucking body.

Totally stacked. That's how I would describe Helena. Just one of those natural set of tits that every boob job is trying and failing to emulate. She didn't dress like a slut, but anything she wore was going to show them off. Her torso was too slender to hide how prominent her tits were.

It was the combo of her tits and her hips that did it for me though. Most skinny big-tittied girls have no hips, and that kind of ruins it for me. Skinny hips, skinny legs. Helena wasn't like that. Wide hips, full fucking ass, actual thighs. She was the fucking dream.

Girls like that, they're usually not worth pursuing. They have the world wrapped around their finger, and that means they haven't had to put out. Guys go so crazy to just see those tits that a girl can get anything she wants just by showing them off. They are usually terrible in bed, if you could even get them there. A regular girl, an ugly girl especially, she learns to suck your dick clean off to get what she wants. Not girls like Helena.

Helena should have been at college with guys throwing themselves at her and professors giving her the easy way out. But it didn't interest her or wasn't possible, I don't really know. I just know when I met her she was waitressing at a pub, getting I'm sure a ridiculous amount of tips and unwanted propositions both.

I don't know why a girl like her was interested in kink, still don't, but I at least understood why she was drawn to me. It's not that I'm cocky -- I'm not a great looking guy, and I'm certainly not a catch. But I have two things that work for a girl like Helena: I'm old enough to activate those daddy issues. And I've got that bad boy energy.

Yeah, I've got tattoos, and I dress like you probably expect. But that's not all there is. I've actually dealt with some tough shit. I've served time, a few times, and until recently I did not make my living legally.   And Helena picked up on all that. I thought at first she was just some young tail from the right side of the tracks looking to cross over, for a night. But now I know it was more than that; she was serious about looking for someone dangerous.

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I'll catch you up to where we are. I don't think you'd believe me if I started now. This was about a year ago that I met Helena. I was a regular at the pub she worked at. I usually sat at the bar, so she didn't wait on me, but she knew who I was.

And I knew who she was. They had to wear these navy blue polo shirts at that place, and Helena was the only one who looked good in that thing. There was no way for her to get a shirt that didn't strain itself over those breasts, so tight I could try to guess what kind of bra she was wearing while watching her work.

I didn't hit on her. As much as you'll maybe later disagree, I'm not some creep. I'm 45 fucking years old, I don't need to be trying to pick up some girl just out of high school. I'll look, sure, I looked plenty. But the only reason we ended up at my place was because she came on to me.

Helena had started hanging out by the bar when I was there. Maybe she did it all the time, how would I know. But she started doing it more and more. Her boss had to even wave her back to work a few times because she was wasting too much time leaning against the bar, talking to the bartender and me and maybe whatever other regulars were there. I could see her eyes on me though.

I should say, tits and hips aside, it's her eyes that grab your attention first when you see Helena. She's a brunette through and through, up and down, dark, dark hair. But her eyes are blue: bright, bright blue. And sometimes I think she doesn't blink. When she's looking at you, you know it. Those nights she would have her hair pulled back into a bun thing, that dark blue shirt, a pair of tight black pants, and it was like her eyes glowed in the dark.

She hung around at the bar a few times after she was off her shift, sitting next to me. She couldn't drink anything, of course, but would sip some kind of iced drink and complain about her feet while getting closer and closer to me. I know the bartender must have told her to stay away from me, but it didn't work. He just resorted to giving her looks when she would flirt with me.

Listen, I told you I'm not a creep, but I'm not a monk either. Her interest was obvious. And my interest in her body was apparent to me. She started asking about my tattoos and running her fingers over my exposed arms. Afterwards I thought about the interest she showed in my knotted rope tattoo. But at the time, all I was aware of was this sweet peach's touch and the fact that she was legal.

One night, I told her I was going to take a smoke break outside. Helena said she'd come with me. I took the break out back, not out of courtesy to the owner who hated smokers blocking up the front, but to see how she'd take being alone with me. She wasn't a smoker she told me, when I offered her one. So she wasn't there for a free cigarette. That told me all I needed to know. It didn't take long before she had her tongue in my mouth, despite the taste of the smoke. She didn't mind a bit of bitterness or discomfort. Turned out to be a bigger character trait than I realized at the time.

That was the end of her shift but just the start of our night. I pointed out my car and told her to meet me there, went inside and paid my tab. I guess I didn't want to make it obvious I was walking out with their 19-year-old waitstaff. In case the bartender would start spitting in my beer.

He would have spit double if he saw what I did to Helena that night.

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"Harder."

Things really took off with that word. I don't know if she'd heard it from a porn or if she really knew what she wanted, but I had her big tit in my mouth when she said it. I had been holding myself back a bit -- these were in fact the most perfect tits I'd ever seen -- trying not to lose myself. Some women don't find their breasts that erogenous, or they're just too sensitive. But Helena, she gripped my head and moaned, "Harder."

I sucked that nipple into my mouth, my tongue lashing at it while my lips locked tight against the firm flesh. Rhythmic suction. A pointed tongue circling and flicking.

Helena kept urging me on with her sounds and her hands, pulling me closer. "Harder," she said again, and I listened. Pulled as much tit flesh into my mouth as I could, sucking like my life depended on it. When that wasn't enough, I gave her more. I bit down with my teeth, pressing into her tit, tight on the flesh and then dragging down until her nipple was clenched in my teeth. I gave the slightest chewing motion on that rock hard nipple and earned a cry of something desperate from her.

I let go and leaned back. She let me, her hands falling to the couch. She was panting, bright red spots in her cheeks and those blue eyes bright and wide. I watched her carefully to see if it was pain and regret behind that cry, or satisfaction.

Helena smiled, slowly. Her hands went to her breasts and massaged them, pushing them close and presenting them to me again. "You like it like that?" I asked, not unhappy but quite uncertain. Remember where I was in the story -- still assuming she was too young and hot to be a freak. The tits she was pushing into two enticing mounds for me right now were worthy of Playboy. And I was old enough to know what Playboy was, and she was young enough to have no clue. The chance that she'd truly be into me biting her felt slim.

But only as slim as her waist, it turned out. She had me do it to the other breast, and this time knowing what was coming, the anticipation made her wild. When I started biting down on that firm tit, she was twisting and moaning. I let go and let her catch her breath again. Those blue eyes were too bright to say there was something dark in them, but fuck if the way she was looking at me right then didn't get me hard.

"You're into this?" she finally asked as I practically planked above her on the couch. Her hand was tracing the tattoo again, the knotted rope. It could have meant a hundred things. But she seemed to know what it actually was. Still, I swear, I tried not to go down this path. I played dumb.

"Tattoos? Clearly, yeah. Do you have any?"

"No, rope. You're into tying girls up?"

Fuck, I was hovering over her on the couch, my cock straining in my jeans. Not a good time for a careful conversation. She was half-naked underneath me and I was looking forward to getting her fully naked. "I've played around with it," I admitted. "But don't worry, I don't have any rope under the couch." She should have been asking out of caution, or maybe even disgust, a sweet girl like her. So I pretended she was. But it wasn't caution I was seeing in her eyes.

"Where is it?" she asked, raising one eyebrow. But it wasn't just a quip, she was waiting.

"Shit, Helena, why are you asking?" I was in good enough shape to keep planking, but it wasn't what I really wanted to be doing right now. Her breasts were right there. Her full red lips, parted right under me.

"I want you to tie me up."

There it was. It wasn't crazy, after what she'd just had me do to her breasts. But it certainly wasn't what I had expected, flirting with her at the bar. Wasn't what anyone would expect looking at the 19-year-old sweet-cheeked girl. "And why would you want that?" I finally gave up going to my knees on the couch between her legs and sitting back.

She picked herself up on her elbows. She looked fucking majestic like that, topless in front of me. The look she served me was intense, dead serious. "Because it's hot. And I bet you know what you're doing."

I'll admit, I got a little frustrated then. I was trying to be a decent guy, trying my fucking best, but it was like she kept asking me not to. "I know what I'm doing. But you don't, Helena. You're not even old enough to fucking drink. It's already probably a bad idea to be hooking up with me, let's leave it at that."

Maybe she was frustrated too. Or just knew how to push the issue with me. She smiled, a cold smile now. "You're just talk then. And this is for show." She ran a finger along the tattoo again, the knotted rope. And then another one, a horned devil. "But all you know how to do is stick your dick in it, like every other prick."

I'm sure my smile was cool now too. When I get mad, I go ice cold. And Helena might be one of the hottest girls I'd ever seen, but she was just a kid. A dumb fucking kid who thought working at a bar was fucking edgy. And she was calling me a poser. I warned you at the beginning, I'm not a creep but I'm not a good guy either. A good guy would never have taken a girl half his age home. But even a half-way decent guy would have brushed off her attempt to provoke me, driven her home if he had to.

But she was with me, not those guys.

"That's where you're wrong, babe." I spoke quietly. I took one hand that was planted on the couch and wrapped it around her throat instead. That got the reaction I wanted. Those big blue eyes got instantly bigger. "I was watching out for you, but if you're going to fucking mouth off, maybe I won't."

I pulled my knees up under me, straddling her on the couch so I could better use my arms. Trust me, I had a lot of thoughts about what I could do to this girl and I think she could see it. Her eyes were unblinking.

"You've watched some porn and decided it will be hot. Getting tied up. Getting choked?" I gave the hand on her neck a squeeze. I wasn't doing anything, she could breathe just fine. But she didn't know the difference. She didn't know shit.

"You think it's a fun little game." I grabbed her tit with my free hand, squeezed it. I could still see the marks from my mouth on her pale skin. "But I don't do games. So you have three choices, Helena. One, you can get your clothes back on and get out, like any sane little girl would do. Two, you can admit you're in over your head and we'll just fuck, like two normal people."

Her mouth was open, gasping, not because of my hand -- well, not directly. She was hot to trot. I knew right then, before I even gave her the third option, what she would pick. She didn't know what she was getting into, that's true, but she knew what she wanted. And she'd found it, coming home with me.

"Three, I'll find the rope and you'll find out if I'm all just fucking talk. And love it or hate it, you'll walk the fucking walk."

I was right that she didn't know what she was in for. Eventually I found out she'd watched some porn, and had an older boyfriend and they'd tried some things. But nothing like what I ended up doing to her. So, I wasn't wrong. But I have to admit, in the long-run she was right too. She did want it. All of it.

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"Go find the rope," she'd eventually answered. As I'd known she would once I saw the hunger in her face. My cold fury, my hands tight on her skin, they were exactly what she was after. Next we'd find out if she'd made a mistake.

I left her on the couch. I gathered my thoughts and cooled myself off while leaving her to do the same. She could slip out the door if she wanted, while I went in the kitchen, escape with pride intact. Have a story to tell one day, about the time she almost got murdered.

Once I'd stalled long enough to give her a chance at a getaway, I came back to the living room, two glasses of water in my hands. She was still there. Topless on my couch. Waiting to get tied up.

"You're into hydration?" she laughed as I handed her the water. I felt suddenly like the dad this girl's daddy issues were probably looking for.

"I drank a lot more than you tonight, and I don't need a headache. And this is going to be your last chance to use your arms for a while," I added with a stern look. I enjoyed the look on her face.

I went to get the rope.

I didn't have the tattoo by accident. I'd had a girlfriend, decades back, who was into being tied up, and for a while it had become a thing. It combined a number of things guys tend to like: sex, power, skill, and gear. After a while I'd drifted from the scene and there was a lot I didn't remember. But I had rope. I grabbed several coils of jute rope, worn-in and perfect for this.

She stared at the coils in my arms as I came out of the bedroom. I'd decided to keep things going in the living room, it was too easy to go too far in the bedroom. I was already imagining what I could do with her in there.

"Stand up," I directed. Just in my normal voice, I wasn't one of those guys who insisted on playing some role of a master during all this. And anyway, there was still a real danger this girl could go running to the police, or hell her parents, saying I'd taken advantage of her. I wasn't about to go drill sergeant on her.

But she did what I asked, stood up from the couch. Just in her pants. We were both topless, her in her black work pants, me in a pair of Carhartts, our shirts on the floor. "Take your pants off."

Again, I wasn't ordering her about, but the feeling in the room was different just the same. Previously we'd been passionately and wordlessly yanking at clothing and working our way towards a standard hook up fuck. Now she was disrobing while I watched, at my direction. And boy did I watch. Her fucking hips as she pulled those pants down, the sight of her in just her cotton panties and socks. This young hot girl undressing just for me. I get why guys fall in love with strippers, it's intoxicating.

"You're fucking gorgeous," I told her, I couldn't help myself. "You know that, guys tell you that all the time, but holy fucking shit." I walked toward her and around her, I wanted to see that ass. Her panties couldn't contain it. "Your body is a work of art, Helena." Standing behind her I brushed the rope against her back, watched her shiver at the touch. "And you're going to let me tie it up. Defile it." I ran the rope up her spine slowly. "That's quite a gift. Thank you."

"Take the panties off too." I stepped back to give her space, and get a better look. She looked briefly back over her shoulder, but she understood not to turn. I knew she would feel it, my unseen gaze on her body as she fully undressed. Bending at the waist, pulling her panties off of her ass, lifting one leg and then the other. I saw it all, those firm perfect ass cheeks. The dark swell of her sex between her legs. Her tits were large enough I could see them sway and hang from behind. She truly was a work of art.

"I don't know what getting tied up means to you," I told Helena. As I said that I let one coil of rope over her head, just the whole 25 foot coil around her neck like a collar. I knew she would be feeling the weight of it. The itch of the fibers. The vulnerability of her neck and throat. I dropped the other coils on the couch, just keeping one in my hands. "What you've seen or what you've imagined. There's more to it than you realize. I could give you a hundred different experiences with just this rope, Helena. But you didn't make any requests, or set any limits."

I uncoiled the rope in my hands. "Put your arms behind your back." There was a hesitation and then she did. "This is it, Helena, the very last moment you are free. I am telling you I will stop at any point, but once you let me do this you won't have any more control over whether I keep my word or not. Maybe you like the idea of being bound, but to get it you have to give yourself over entirely. Do you like that idea?" I was not going to hold her against her will, but Helena didn't truly know that. I wanted her to feel that, that thread of fear. I suspected it's what had drawn her to a rough-looking 46-year-old in the first place. The taste of fear.

"I don't know," she answered, her first words since she'd laughed about the water.

"I guess you must. Or you would have waited and asked some sweet little doting boyfriend your own age to do it. Someone who would never hurt you, who you had to convince." I put a hand on her upper arm, pulling it out backwards toward me. "Instead of a guy you don't even know, who picked up a girl young enough to be his daughter at a bar. You want me to tie you up, not that other guy, because when you told me harder, I bit your tit. And you know if you said harder again I would have hurt you more. So I guess there's something you like about trusting me, a man you should not trust, to do this." I laid a quick loop around her wrists. "I guess it's not that you trust me not to hurt you, Helena." I wrapped around and around in a quick motion and pulled the wrists tight.

"You trust that I will."

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I bound Helena's arms behind her, at the wrist, below the elbows, above the elbows. It was as simple as could be -- I didn't trust my rusty skills, and the point was not the aesthetics. It was simply the feeling, and what Helena would do with it.

She was quiet. She breathed deep and hard, the pace quickening as I looped the rope over her shoulders and stepped in front of her. I could feel her eyes on me as I ran it under each breast and back around, brushing against her sensitive skin. I didn't meet her eyes, but I felt her quiver as I stepped behind again and finished the rope work in a careful knot.

I dropped the rest and the thud of rope on the floor felt loud in the silent apartment. "It's very simple, isn't it. It's just your arms. You can still talk, and kick, and run and twist." I stepped slowly from behind her to her right side, close. I ran a hand along her bound arm, it was not too restrictive, she could hold the position for some time. But she could not move it. I let the hand run up her shoulder, down her side. "But there's so much you can't do." I stepped in front of her, letting my hand trail down her stomach, brush against her tightly clipped pubic hair. Then I stepped back some more, so I could truly take her in.

It was intoxicating, the effect of the arm bind on her posture. It forced Helena's chest forward and her already formidable breasts were thrust out as if for the taking. The loop of rope between and under her breasts hadn't bound them at all, but it visually accented them in a way that was incredibly erotic. She was a canvas any rope artist would die to play with. And here she was in my shitty living room.

"We use our arms to protect ourselves, don't we?" I mused, stepping closer. "We never realize how vulnerable our front is, until we don't have them."  I let my hands touch her body, stroking her stomach, so flat and toned. "Your soft belly." I pressed into her abdomen. "Your sex." I drifted down and dipped one finger between her thighs, touching her. She was hot and wet. Her eyes were glued on mine. "Your breasts." I took each of them in a hand. I knew how sensitive they were to Helena and I circled the nipples with my thumbs, feeling them swell to puckered hardness. "Your face." I took my time, stroking her face, laying the flat of my hand against her cheek in a slow motion slap. "Your mouth." I let my fingers trace those full, full lips. I pushed them between and felt Helena lick at them. "Your throat." I gathered the coil of rope still hanging around her neck in one hand and pulled it back, tightening it against her white delicate throat.

I stood like that for a pregnant moment, letting her feel the rope on her throat, her jaw in my hand, and my fingers in her mouth. I stared down into those bright eyes. "Without your arms, all that is at my mercy, isn't it?" I gripped her jaw and turned her head sideways, watching her roll her eyes at me like a horse, keeping me in sight. I gave the rope at her neck one more twist, tightening it. "I could do anything to you." I let her take in each sentence, wanting her to really see the situation she had created. "So, all that matters is what I want." I let go of the rope and reached down instead to her crotch. I stroked those swollen lips with two fingers, spreading her own wetness before spreading her open. I earned a cry of passion from Helena at the sudden touch. I hadn't played with her pussy yet, but I was guessing from her response to the breast play that she was highly sensitive, highly orgasmic. I stroked the flesh surrounding her clit and watched her face, her eager delight.

"If I want to please you, I can do so," I continued. I let her enjoy the feel of my fingers, turning her head back to face me. "But if I want to hurt you, I can do that too." Letting go of her mouth, I moved that hand to one nipple. I began to squeeze it, increasingly hard. "You've given up control, Helena. All that's left is hoping what I want and need isn't for you to suffer." I yanked on the nipple, tugging it out straight. I watched her mouth open wide, her body arch. "Because you can't stop me, can you, whatever I decide. You might thrash and fight, but without your arms it will be easy for me to bind your feet if I have to. Gag your mouth."

I smiled, cruelly, I expect. I wasn't feeling the cold rage now, but hot passion instead. I wanted to see her afraid, not because I was angry but because it was hot. "I might beat your fat tits. Or choke you until you pass out, Helena. Or I might make you cum until you can't stand it any longer, but it's not your choice, is it." Squeezing the nipple still, I started in on her cunt again with my fingers. She was starting to writhe in front of me, the sensations driving her body.

So, I stopped. I let go of her and stepped back, more than an arm's distance between us now. I got to take in the sight of her. Let her take in the feeling of it, being bound in a strange man's living room. "What do you think?" I asked her eventually. So many parts of me wanted to grab her and do whatever I wanted, but we hadn't ended up here because of those parts. "Are you 'into this', Helena?"

"Yes," she answered. She squirmed a bit, pushing at her bonds. It was awkward to stand like this, it was a strain. Not just physically. She was flitting through all the possibilities, I knew, of what might be next. I was too, but it felt quite different from my end. "I like it."

Fuck, that made he hard somehow, just her saying that, just after I'd listed all the ways I could torture her. This young, hot girl who should be off somewhere ripping off a sugar daddy. Not letting me do this.

"Let's see if it stays that way."

She'd had her last exit ramp. She was, somehow, actually into it. I stepped up close, grabbed Helena's face and crushed my mouth to hers. We had made out earlier, before this all started, but the passion now was double. No more tentativeness. I took her mouth with mine and hers opened with eager relief, as if sensing that the final act had finally begun. Her full lips open, my tongue in her mouth. My stubble on her soft face. I wanted this for her: passion, and pain; the kiss and the scratch.

I reached back and grabbed her ass for the first time. Her ass cheeks were as perfect as her tits: full, firm, real handfuls, but no sag. She would let me spank them, that was clear. I looked forward to that.

But right now her tits were so available. Her arms bent back, her breasts out, my hands naturally navigated to those full mounds. I started gentle, stroking them, slightly deeper each time, closer and closer to her nipples without touching them. I could feel the response in her kiss, knew it was stoking something in her. I eventually touched her nipples, when I felt her arching her back, trying to press them to my hands. She gasped into my mouth as I toyed gently with them, treating them like her clit, just barely touching them until they were throbbing and hard.

"You have the most perfect breasts I've seen," I told Helena, breaking the kiss to look down at her. I freed one hand to remove the loop of coiled rope from around her neck. "But they're not just for looks, in your case. They're sensitive too, aren't they, Helena?" She nodded, breathing hard. She was so responsive to breast play, I suspected she could cum from it if done right. I looked down at her nipples, now full and distended, pounding with her blood.

"Very sensitive." I stepped back a bit and lazily swung the coil of rope at her left breast. She yelled in surprise as it made contact: heavy enough, raspy enough, her nipples sensitive enough to bring a cry of pain at the easy swing. I backhanded it again, aiming for just the nipple, a gentle swat on that sensitive nub. I suspected she could take a lot more than this -- or rather would enjoy, in a twisted way, a lot more than this. But I can say I was careful to take it slow that first night. Remember, I tried to be a decent guy.

That's not to say I was soft. Holding her big breast with my left hand I started to swat it over and over with the hank of rope. Helena's cries were continuous now. The breast growing angry red where the rope was taking a beating on it, her nipple now sensitive with more than just passion.

Letting go of that breast, I stepped back and started to swat at them both, forehand and back, watching the firm jugs sway with the strikes. She started to catch her breath, the feeling not so intense here, but still jolting each time the rough fibers of the rope struck her swollen nipples. I watched her watching them, mouth open, eyes bright. "You're sticking them out to me, begging for this," I told her. "And you can't stop that. Arms back, ready to receive whatever I decide to do to them."

Before they could go numb, or simply cross over into damaged, I dropped the hank. I had to temper my passion, the animal in me wanted to bite and fuck and flog her until I collapsed. But, hard as it was to believe, this girl was only 19 and never been tied up before. She'd certainly never had her tits beat.

"So fucking hot," I growled, and I grabbed those big tits in my hands and pulled them to my mouth. She cried out again, a different kind of cry, as now my tongue and lips bathed those throbbing nipples. I ran my tongue in wet circles around each of them, keeping them standing and hard. I have to say, I have never lost my obsession with her breasts. They are that amazing, that a hundred nights of fondling them couldn't make them feel like old hat. I squeezed and stroked and tongue bathed her tits, gently for this moment, bringing her sensitive flesh back to earth and using it against her. In no time she was grunting and pressing her chest against my mouth.

I added one hand to the mix, reaching down between her legs and going to work on her cunt. I needed no more evidence what a kinky girl Helena was -- though I'd just been pulling screams from her lips by hurting her nipples, she was dripping wet and wide open.

I brought the bound girl to an eager orgasm in the next few minutes, combining my mouth on her breasts and my fingers in her cunt. I knew Helena had never been truly bound, but she'd also clearly never truly been fingered. I'm not going to pretend humility -- I pride myself on being able to get girls off with my fingers. I find their orgasms hot. And the particular sight of a bound or hurting woman cumming despite herself is one of my favorite moments. I'm sure Helena had never managed the type of orgasm I tore out of her then.

In the process I walked her backward until she fell back on the couch, arms still bound behind her. I rolled her to her side, and kneeling next to her, worked her nipples and clit and cunt until she thrashed. I held myself back from doing everything I wanted to do to that bound body, everything that was available to me right there. I truly wasn't sure I'd ever see her again after this, but still I showed some restraint. Maybe I had learned something in all my years.

"That's enough for you," I told her finally, standing up and stretching out my knees. She was sprawled on my couch, looking a hot mess. Her breasts gleamed with my drool and her pussy was gleaming with her grool. She was in only her socks, and rope, but I was still half-dressed. I undid the button on my pants. "Get up on your knees," I ordered her, and clasped my hands behind my back.

It was strangely enticing watching her struggle without her arms to ease herself from the couch. It was awkward, shouldn't be sexy, but watching this naive thing struggle to deal with the situation she'd put herself in was hot. So was that fucking body, no matter what it was doing.

She almost fell sideways but eventually managed to right herself there in front of the couch, on the floor on her knees. I knew her arms weren't pulled back too tight, but still there was a limit how long this newbie could handle it. I wanted to take advantage of the time I had left.

"Get my dick out," I told her. And I enjoyed the next few moments as the 19-year-old girl, with no use of her arms, tried to tug my zipper down with her teeth. In the process she rubbed her face all over the crotch of my pants, a humiliating display I think we both got off on.

I let her take a valiant effort with the zipper and then trying to bite and pull my pants, before I took care of the rest. I dropped them to the floor and kicked them away. My cock was straining at my boxer-briefs. "Go on, show me how much you want it."

It might have been the hottest moment of the evening, or at least up there in the top 3, to see her gorgeous face, those bright blue eyes looking up at me, crouching at my feet and running her wide pink tongue over my clothed dick. She worked at it like she loved the taste of it, like she wanted me to get off right through the cotton. "You could really use your hands now, couldn't you?" I teased her, watching her pull at her bonds in response. "So you could get at this cock. You could have any cock you want, with a face and body like that, Helena. But this is what you chose: to get tied up and snuffle for dick like a pig."

I didn't wait any longer. I got my briefs off and let my dick flop in front of her. It was half-hard, suddenly free from the constraints. "Go on, piggy, get eating," I told the slut. And she did. Whatever she was feeling from being bound, teased, and orgasmed, it motivated her. Alexandra dipped down and gobbled up my cock at once.

It wasn't the best blow job; the girl was not that experienced, and literally had her arms tied behind her back. She wasn't the expert she'd become. But what she was from moment one was eager. Something thrilled her to kneel and submit and serve, and I could see it. I fed into it. I taunted and teased her, calling her a nasty cocksucker and urging her to bob faster, take more. When she tried to take a breather, I pushed three fingers into her mouth and gagged her until she was drooling all over herself. She would come to amaze me, and herself, with the messes she'd make with her mouth, but tonight was a good start, conditioning her to love the feel of drool on her chin, her tits.

Speaking of her tits, I knew one thing I was not ending this night without doing was those. I encouraged her to spit her mouthfuls of spit out on her chest, knowing it was going to serve me soon. But first I wanted to make sure she remembered what it meant to have her arms bound: No control.

When she'd slobbered a while on my cock and got it rock hard, I grabbed her head between my hands. She looked up to me with those wide eyes. "I can do anything to you, when you're like this," I reminded her. "So what will happen is whatever I want." I pushed my cock further in until she was choking on it. I felt her jerk against my hands, trying to twist away. "Even if that keeps you from breathing."

Her throat became my target. She'd never learned to handle it, never had a cock this deep in her mouth. So she choked and she gagged. I didn't really play with her breath, I pulled back each time so she could take a wet, coughing breath. But she didn't know that, didn't know yet what it felt like to really struggle to breathe, so she thought this was that. Her eyes went wet with tears, and then red as spit and makeup got into them, her eyeliner a runny mess, her face spit-coated.

I taught her how easy it was for me to take her when she was like this. I let her catch her breath while I moved behind her. Gripping her temples in my hands I arched her neck backward. She stared up at me and then her eyes disappeared beneath me as I mounted her face. Dipping my cock down, I took her mouth again. Her neck exposed, her breasts presented to me. I felt my balls dragging across her face. I fucked her face that way for only a minute, knowing it would be hard for her to maintain the position without her arms. But I got to experience watching my cock sink deep into this beautiful girl's throat while I suffocated her with my balls. This would come to be one of my favorite positions with Helena, because I could reach down and fondle her breasts.

But at the time, I didn't know if I'd get another shot at those tits. So I cut short throating the brunette. Swinging my leg over her head, I dropped down on the couch edge.

"Your mouth is all right, needs practice," I diagnosed. "But you know what guys really want from you, Helena." She was catching her breath, shaking her head to try to clear some of the saliva covering her face and eyes and chin. She slowly waddled in a circle on her knees to face me.

"From the day you developed those breasts, guys have been staring at you, haven't they, Helena? Treating you different. To them now you're not Helena, the waitress, or Helena, the student, you're Helena, The Tits." My cock was jutting out straight and thick. I gave it a few strokes as I watched her kneeling there. She was wet from forehead to navel. Not to mention her pussy.

"Get those tits over here," I directed her. She shuffled forward on her knees. She liked directions, liked orders. Why? I don't know. It would take a fucking psychoanalyst to figure that out, why a woman who looked like this would ever take anything from anyone. But her eyes gleamed when I talked like this. "I could tie you up. Stick a plug in your cunt and ass, gag your mouth. And guys would still line up to have you. Because all we need are these tits."

I risk boring you, but I can't emphasize enough how fucking true this was. Helena's tits were perfect. They were the biggest firm tits I'd ever seen -- usually you got floppy and saggy if you got this kind of size. Hers had a bit of a teardrop shape, but they held their shape so well. Even when she was on her back they stood up full and firm. If she opened a tit fuck business she'd never run out of customers.

She shuffled her tits forward, and I opened my legs and invited her in. Helena looked up at me and the image was striking: her makeup a ruined mess and her hair clinging to her spit-soaked forehead. This was not the gorgeous young thing who had been hitting on me in the bar tonight, while the bartender worried about her virtue. She was something else now.

"Spit on it." My cock was already wet with saliva and so was her chest. But more wasn't going to hurt.

I'm sure this gorgeous little angel had never spit on a cock before, but she made a valiant effort. The throating I'd been doing had taught her to cultivate a big mouth of saliva, and after summoning it she managed to let it fall onto my cock, more than she propelled it. It's all right. I'm sure every guy that had ever crossed paths with Helena would have paid handsomely for that image, of her drooling onto a hard cock.

I arranged her then, pulling her closer and letting my cock fall against her sternum. She worked her torso back and forth, rubbing her breasts against me -- she was game, passionate still. "I bet the boys always ask to fuck your tits," I told her as I took my erection and rubbed it against her swaying nipples.

"Yes." I had almost forgotten she had a voice. It sounded different now, post-throating. Or perhaps something else had changed.

"Because that's what they saw when they saw you. A walking pair of tits. A piece of meat." I grabbed those two perfect breasts in my hands and wrapped them around my cock. Only the head poked free from her soft flesh. "But they didn't know how to treat a piece of meat."

"I have to do this part," I told her, crushing her tits and eliciting a gasp. "But you're going to work for this cum. Nature made you a big-titted slut desperate to please, so you'd better start learning how. Use these fat tits on me."

She was awkward at first. Without use of her arms, and unpracticed. I'm sure every previous guy who had managed to get his dick between her tits had cum without any effort on her part. But she began to learn how to move her torso, how to arc as she shifted back and forth. I supplied the pressure on my cock, pressing her tits together, and she provided the movement.

I coached her along, telling her when she had a good angle and how fast to go. I wasn't hard to please, I'd been picturing those tits around my cock since I'd first seen Helena waitressing at the bar. I hadn't imagined I'd ever get to fuck them, nevermind tie them up, beat them, and pierce them. But that would all come to pass. Today was just the first of a series of astonishing events.

When it came to the end, I took over. A woman who really knows how to use her tits is one of the best orgasms there is, but Helena wasn't there yet. "Hold still," I told her, and I started to work her breasts myself. They were big enough that even when she held herself still I could slide them up and down the length of my shaft.

"Look at me." Her beautiful teen face tilted up at me. I spit into her cleavage, lubing my passage. And then I spat on her face. I wasn't sure where her limits were but we were nearing the end and either I'd never see her again or I'd find out how far she was willing to go.

She closed her eyes, my spit stinging in them. But she opened her mouth. Whether panting from excitement or inviting more, I don't know. But I didn't hesitate: I spat into her open mouth.

"I don't even need you to move, Helena. Not with these tits. You just need to sit there and be a piece of meat." I was working her tits hard and fast. I never moved my hips, I made her tits do the work, jerking myself off with her sweaty, slick mounds.

She was like that, face screwed up, eyes closed, when I came. Some of it struck her throat, but I wrapped her breasts around my cockhead as I came and let her cleavage take the giant load I had been building up all night, since she first started flirting at the bar. It felt like I emptied half my body weight between those giant breasts.

I gave the tits some more work as I disengaged, pulled and stroked at those nipples. Her chest was a sweaty mess, now spattered with cum, and striped in rope. It was a beautiful sight.

"I'm going to untie you now." Helena nodded, and bent her head prettily. I reached around and began to unknot the rope behind her neck. I took it slow, and massaged feeling back into her shoulders, arms, wrists, and hands as she finally came unbound. She ended up there on my rug, facedown in her own mess, while I stroked her body and let her come down.

It was all in a quantum state at that point. I didn't know how she would react, when she finally could. But when she came to her senses, she didn't curse me, cuss me out, or even kick me out. We took the water I offered her, and we both drank and caught our breath. Helena traced my tattoo of the knotted rope and said, "Thank you," with a shy little grin.

I smiled back, seeing that I hadn't found her limits yet. Wondering just how much I could get her to thank me for.

It turned out, Helena would continue to surprise me.