We have known each other for three years, our flirting intense but lacking any physical consummation, this is due to a discrepancy in our sexual proclivities , both of us are dominant by nature. Then one day he made a mistake, he challenged me - if I could bind him he would submit to me for one night. I love a challenge and I’d lied of course, pretended I would act honourable and stick to him boot licking and kissing my slippery succulent cunt. We met up to watch a performance at the theatre and as usual that silent powerful sexual tension between us was palpable. Bodies grazing against each other as our eyes followed the action on stage. Little did he know I was staging my own little performance with him in the lead role suspended from the beam in my bathroom.
Later:
In my bathroom he realises he is bound, awakening from his dreamlike state, not knowing who helped me get him there, just snatches delivered by his senses , his body pulled, dragged and scrapped in and out of a taxi and up the narrow stairs.
Stretched tall against the wall; the bare Victorian beam a reminder of how the house has been transformed over time, and how it now supports him, a perfect height to pit muscle against sinew. His feet are flat on the floor, just, no more. He cannot quite understand how he got there, just a dim memory of a beautiful woman, the theatre, a meal, a drink , and then a vague sense of being in a place where reality meets insanity. He had been promised that a fantasy of his would be made real but he tries to remember what that fantasy was, as it certainly did not involve this cold clinical bathroom with its shelves of lotions and potions.
I enter the bathroom disturbing his concentration on his painful limbs. I have removed my cocktail dress and slipped into my silk robe, its black and gold rustling sensuously over my nakedness. I move towards the sink and turn the cold tap on; reach for my toothbrush . He watches me silently as I clean my teeth, the buzzing echoing around the room.
Then I turn, my brush still buzzing and move towards him. I hold it to the base of his throat where it beats its rapid pulse on his. I press it so the motor struggles, pull it away, press again. I move it over his neck, run it along his tensed shoulder. Form my lips into a cupids bow as if to kiss him but place my brush on his lower lip and push it against his teeth , his eyes darken with frustration, he wants control and I will give him none.
I stand back, look him in the eye, lean in and place the brush to his right nipple, he curses me and squirms, the sensation revealing his vulnerability. His desire dilates his pupils and anger and arousal fight for the upper hand. I am so near yet untouchable, taunt him in a voice low and husky with passion. I return the brush to his nipple bring my lips to the other suckling firmly, he yelps in pleasure and dismay that his body can betray him this way.
As I return the toothbrush to its place he tells me I won’t get away with this, but I remind him it is he who is bound not I. The mild sedative I slipped into his drink has worn off and his eyes burn with ready to be delivered retribution.
I take my time taunting him, silly things that enrage him further, I gel his hair adding clips and bows; he looks ridiculous. He writhes and swears with an eloquence that is truly impressive. He kicks out trying to keep me at bay, but his arms ache unbearably , muscles knotted. I note that his long skinny shaft topped by its well shaped circumcised head inflates and deflates like some leaky party balloon that is being blown up only to go flaccid again.
He has the audacity to try and bargain with me, let him down and he won’t demand payback, I laugh, I am not that naïve!
I tease him some more, spray him with cold water, lather him up with my shower cream ( vanilla scented ironically ) rinse it off. Shave his pubic hair- very badly. Get his phone and hold it in front of his face, locate his mother’s number ready to hit the call button. He calls me insane and the bitch queen from hell.
I say I will release him when he has sung a sea shanty and I scrub his “decks” as he does with my back brush.
I have decided there will be no “sex” , the sort where body slides over body in panting, pounding animal lust, because I have slaked my interest in his body. Three years of gut wrenching lust washed away in one night in my bathroom.
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