All I know is endless unseen pleasures…

Need to be Bound
‘Tie me up,’ she whispers. ‘This girl needs it tight.’

I pick up a skein of rough hemp rope and let it unravel loosely so that it caresses Alex’s skin. An almost soundless moan comes from her throat, and her body tightens itself against mine in eager anticipation.
Alex is one of those rare creatures who can climax at the slightest stimulation. She would have an orgasm now, just from the touch of it if I told her to, but I have control of her pleasures and this is not the right moment. It is better to use her own need to bring an intensity of suffering greater than can be inflicted by mere torture. Physical pain entwined with emotional torment can create hours, even days, of suffering. Her true ecstasy lies at the point where she cannot separate one from the other.
She needs both in equal measure. It is then that she knows herself to be in absolute submission.
We are breathing close, there is urgent need in her eyes. The bite of rope is something her body craves. I can torture her with denial, drive her to distraction with wanting, punish her for being a wanton slut; but we both know the ultimate outcome. Cruelty has limits, it always transposes itself into ecstasy which seems to have none.
It is a desire that neither of us wants to be fully subdued. It is a true force of nature that rouses itself again and again. She knows her power as a woman as she feels my hardness rising. Her need is to be taken and used while tightly bound and gagged. Yet it has nothing to do with docility. Alex has never been docile. She is driven by an inner force to satisfy that need.
She is gifting herself to me because she has chosen to do so. It is a gift that I cherish.
Being tied accentuates that, and drives her desire for more.
‘Turn around,’ I say. Obedience is immediate.
She needs no further order to put her hands together behind her back, palms facing inwards. The rough hemp is going to bite. It will leave deep marks where she strains against her bonds. She is a painslut. We both know that.
Her fingers reach to caress me invitingly as a loop of rope is tightened above her elbows. The gasp as it embeds itself deeply in yielding flesh tells me she wants the hurt of it. Her arms crush together in cruel embrace as tight knots secure her helplessness. I cross the doubled rope down her arms, threading the rope between them until her wrists are tightly bound.
My hands explore her tense and expectant body as I pull her back against me. Her hot skin against mine. Thighs part in welcome as my fingers trail towards the moist flow I know is already there for me. The lightest touch across her clit brings a tight gasp of need, and a thrusting down to catch the pleasure of my hand and take it into herself. She is on her orgasmic razor edge already. It will be a sweet torture to keep her there.

Our togetherness becomes a ballet of domination and submission, my ropes an integral part of the eternal choreography of Master and slave which forms our tender singularity.
Her head is back against my shoulder, my right hand closes with a gentle tightening around her throat. Bound hands close provocatively around my cock, to pull it in closer. Constricted breathing becomes a soft moan as the fingers of my other hand accept her flowing welcome. She writhes herself against them, finding fresh pleasures in doing so. As I go deeper, she drives down harder. Her insatiability draws me in deeper. That razor edge is sharpening itself on ecstatic torment.
‘Master, this girl needs your rope, she’s wanted it all day.’ Her soft words harden my desire as she knows they must. They are words of the submissive, but mask the power and strength she has. Only here is she submissive, elsewhere she is powerful, feisty, often scary. Here she chooses to gift herself to me in soft femininity.
I reach for more rope and encircle a doubled length around her arms, and above and below her breasts until they become orbs of taut invitation, nipples thrust out, needing torment and tenderness in equal measure.

‘Make this girl suffer Master, the way you know how, she can’t get enough.’ We have done this countless times, but still she gasps in reaction to tightening cord.
We have gone beyond safewords. We know each other too well to need them. Her desire is absolute, to be used without limit of time or pain. A safeword would break the spell.
Her cunt demands to be filled. I release her throat and pick up a cock-gag and show it to her. She smiles in knowing appreciation. I feel her thighs part wider, an unspoken invitation of what to do with it. Alex knows where it’s going, but wants to be fucked with it first.
I slide it down her bound body until it finds a wet welcome. The tip of it pauses for a moment while Alex writhes to get it deep and wet within herself.
I let her play on it for a few minutes; my fingers hold it in, so that she can fuck herself in ways of her choosing. The urgent squirming on it is telling me her needs.
It is withdrawn with exquisite slowness, against tightened thighs that try to hold it there. I use no force, it is the gag that will keep in her screams later. When she releases it from one hole, it will go into another. She knows that. Such choices are hers to make, the seeking out of infinite pleasures, part of our dance of discipline. She holds it in, and turns.
‘Gag me, but kiss me first, Master.’ She forces her mouth hard against mine so that our tongues entwine in mutual lust as a prelude to my gag taking her into silence. It is a kiss that burns through both of us. An orgasm is barely held in check, but she may not yet climax. That is my control of her.
While our lips are still in embrace, I release the gag from her cunt-flow. Alex lets it go, knowing where I’m going to put it. As the wetness of it is trailed up her vibrant body her lips draw away from mine, and part wide in invitation so that the cock-gag can be thrust deep, into a mouth that wants to be filled with the taste of desire. It will tell her who she belongs to, and what she is. Possession such as this needs no word of harsh command.
The wet phallus slips in deep. It has a hole down the middle to allow it to be in place for hours should I choose. Alex likes that level of control. She likes to be left, alone and helpless, bound within herself. Her mouth absorbs the monstrosity that would deny any protest even it should try to rise. The strap is threaded through the buckle at the back of her head, so that she hears each rasping click as leather tightens into bulging cheeks. I grant her the short delay before the final click that takes it beyond endurable, yet still within her wanting.
Though she is bound into silence, desire is still fanning the flames of increasing need. I kiss the gag that will imprison her coming screams.
Walking around her, admiring my possession, her eyes hold mine in challenging defiance. The ropes somehow bring out the woman she really is. Proud, demanding, unflinching. She wants to be forced to do what she needs to do. Somehow, every time she is bound it is fresh and new, as if we had discovered the pleasures of bondage for the first time.

I have never been able to figure out how someone so bound into submission can stand there looking so fiercely free. It multiplies her beauty. And she knows it.
W e are lucky enough to have a huge room that is both bedroom and playroom. It holds all the paraphernalia of our kinky inclinations, which lends atmosphere to what we do. I leave her standing where I have tied her, and walk across to the bed and lie back on it, taking in the view. My cock is hard and erect for her. I stroke myself lazily, holding her eyes with mine. It is a delicious test of will, each of us full of desire for the other.
Alex walks around the room so that I can take in what I have created, my infinite temptation. She knows how much I enjoy seeing her flesh deeply furrowed with tight ropes, and deliberately strains against them so that they cut deeper. That is part of her need of me, she too is enjoying the view. But her eyes blaze over her gag as she watches me play with myself. It becomes a battle of wills, keeping a few feet apart in a state of mutual arousal.
She walks to the side of the bed, fierce pleading in her eyes. She wants to be fucked. I can delay, but ultimately never deny. I crook a finger in beckoning. She climbs awkwardly onto the bed while I hold my cock motionless and erect. I admit to a sadistic enjoyment in watching her crawling for what she must have. Alex works herself into a position where her thighs are spread across me, and poises herself above it. I grasp her hips to control the lowering onto it. I want to savour every perfect inch of slipping in, and hold her eyes with mine as I do so.
This is not the time for frenzied thrusting, but of savouring delicious cunt slowly, as if she were a virgin seeking her own deflowering.
The strength in my arms holds her up, resisting her urge to fuck herself senseless. The very tip of me caresses her entrance, ignoring the frenzied look in her eyes, and the mewling of desperation behind the gag as she tries to drive herself down on me. Flexing hard against my tight ropes forces her bound breasts into a state of wanton expectation. Flooding flow threatens to engulf me as I let her down with excruciating slowness to take my full length.
Alex’s eyes close, and the gag shuts off all but the most basic sound. She is lost to herself and the cock that is deep within. She rocks herself back and forth on it, slowly, finding a new something there. As if tasting it for the first time. Then her fuck-frenzy increases, and cannot be denied.
She is bound and gagged, yet fucking herself on her captor’s cock, screaming behind the gag that is another cock in her mouth and supposed to hold her in silence. I can only watch in awe as the nymphomaniac I own uses me in a frenzy of wanting, straining for excitement as my ropes bury themselves in her raging body.
Nothing can deny her now, and I feel the first climax rising to detonation. She forces herself down onto me, sounds forcing themselves out to tell me that her orgasm is starting to pulse itself.

Alex is a repeater. No sooner the first, then another….and another as she fucks herself in bound abandon on me. She knows I can hold back for as long as it takes. Which means well into double figures, as she blatantly pleasures herself towards black oblivion.
The cut of my ropes means nothing as tautly bound breasts force themselves against me and she brings her legs together to clamp my prick tight into her cunt. My thighs widen to accommodate her. This reversal of position is one of her favourites. She is tightly bound yet fucking me. A delicious contradiction. Again her climax has a screaming hit, then another as they blend one into the next — not a single event now but rolling waves gathering to a final crashing tsunami.
We’ve both lost track of time. Still hard within her, I sense her final cataclysm approaching, and grasp her hips to pull her to me even tighter. She knows it too and we build together for the mutual explosion of ecstasy. My thrusting pulse draws a final scream that no gag can contain, as she shudders uncontrollably on me.
I hold her in sweet silence until her breathing changes, her eyes close and she slowly slips away to that other place. Still my bound captive but floating elsewhere in a different state of freedom. She will be gone for a while.

Easing myself from under her now-comatose body, I take a few moments to look down at my creation. Seeing her sleeping softly, I am engulfed by that overwhelming sense of love and protection for my slave. Were it not for the ropes and gag still holding her, she could look innocent of all this.
But I know she will wake and demand more.
There is a soft stirring as I tie her ankles together, and run a hogtie back to her wrists. Alex adores waking up tied and helpless, so she can squirm herself into another frenzy.
Before leaving her in solitude, I turn and take another look. Just so lovely, lying like that. Asleep, contented, safe. I congratulate myself on being the luckiest pervert in the world. I close the bedroom door softly.
Now is her quiet time.

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