Tuesday, October 28, 2008

The bet

[arm outstretched, his aim is sure, his hand... steady]
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
>click<

The television goes dark and silent.

Rising from the comfort of the overstuffed leather couch, I place the remote control on the coffee table, exchanging it for My glass of bourbon.

I move to the bedroom, where soft whimpers and mmmmphfffs have been emanating from for the past hour as I watched the previously recorded show from the DVR.

I pause for a moment, contemplating her fate, taking her beauty in. She's on her back, wrists together affixed to the headboard.

Her arms, pressed tightly against both sides of her head, covering her ears, holding those earbuds in place.

Her face is beautiful, but somehow, the red satin blindfold and leather plug gag make her even more breathtaking... somehow, obscuring certain features from Me,
.
.
.
.
hiding them,
.
.
.
.
. makes them even more alluring.
.
.
.
.
.
.
How is that possible?

My eyes move slowly down her body, taking in every curve and line of her form. Except for the occassional moan or whimper from her over the humming of the vibrator, our home is silent.

Her breasts are perfect in shape, size and consistency... they scream to be tugged, massaged roughly and enjoyed. Her decision not to wear anything to cover them excites Me... she knows I like topless... I've had convertibles since highschool. They move, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly... her breathing is a little erratic... maybe another orgasm is building... it's tough to tell with her sometimes. She keeps Me guessing, keeps Me reeling.

Her tummy, her belly button... I look forward to tracing little circles around it to tease her. She will want Me to come up to her breasts, then to her neck and lips... or to go down to her puss... but I won't... simply because she will want Me to.

When I am able, I deny her things...
.
.
.
.
.
I don't know why I feel the need to make her beg for what I so obviously want to give her,
.
.
.
.
but I do,
.
.
.
.
it's just Me,
.
.
.
.
it's how I am,
.
.
.
.
.
how I've been,
.
.
.
.
.
how I was when with her for the first time all those years ago.

[chuckling a little] I see she's wearing hosiery... just like she was when she orgasmed for Me that first time.

I'll never forget the sounds she made...
.
.
.
.
still ringing in my ears,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
still teasing me.

The pantyhose no doubt holding her vibrator rrrright where she wants it, right where she knows I want it to be.

My eyes continue down her legs, they are spread unusually wide, stretching out towards the corners of our bed, the comfy leather restraints around each ankle pulling her thighs wide apart.

A lady in public, a slut in the bedroom... I am truly a lucky man.

In her own little world right now, she's unaware of Me standing over her at this moment, but certainly aware that it would come to this... eventually, at some point this evening.

This was all her own doing. A silly bet on a silly show, but the payoff... not silly at all. I take our special time together very seriously. Did she win or lose the bet? Does it even matter right now?

She knew I would return home and watch.

She bound herself here on our bed,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
the bed where she so loves to be unfettered during sex. Her submission to Me is sticky-sweet,
.
.
.
.
.
dripping...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
intoxicating.



[taking another drink]


Her hips gyrate slowly, a bit of sweat glistens on her neck...
.
.
.
.
.
.
she's been like this for quite a while.
.
.
.
.
.
I'm so bad to make her "suffer" alone.

I close my eyes and ponder replacing the vibrator nestled deep inside of her warmth with myself and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Not sure how long I was standing there, stretching the moment, I open my eyes when I hear her breathing pattern change.

Her head is cocked a bit to the side...
.
.
.
.
.
.
I swear her eyes are smiling at Me from beneath the red satin.

Does she now know I am standing over her?

Her movements seem more purposeful now,
.
.
.
.
more... exagerated.

Her whimpers and "mmmmmpphhhffffs" through the gag more frequent, she must be approaching another orgasm, but I'll be damned if she doesn't know I'm standing here right now and she's putting on a show for Me!

I look down at my glass, wondering if she smelled the bourbon, or maybe my cologne.

[shudder]
.
.
.
.
.
She knows I like to watch her in action.

She pulls at her restraints as her orgasm builds, her fingers close into fists, her hips twist, toes curl and the most delicious sounds come from her.

I lean over her, wanting to kiss her face and release her, wanting to tear at her hosiery and thrust into her again and again, stabbing at her cunt with my rigid erection.

Her orgasm begins... and the sound is heaven. As her body pulls tight and spasms, my cold glass touches her warm skin of the side of her tummy... and mid-climax, she inhales sharply, surprised by the contact, but certainly unable [unwilling] to call-off the blissful wave that washes over her.

I lean down and blow gently upon the trail of condensation that my glass left on her body as her tummy trembles, her breathing trying to return to normal. Maybe those are aftershocks... I don't know.

The back of my hand comes to her face, touching her cheek, then brushing lightly against the underside of her left arm that is bound over her head like that.

She knows she's done well and that I couldn't be more pleased with her performance.

My hand snakes down,
.
.
.
.
.
between her spread legs,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
going to her crotch,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
fumbling with the base of the vibrator through the thin, slick material of her hosiery,
.
.
.
.
.
.
twisting the variable speed adjustment to "maximum."

She shudders a bit, maybe startled, maybe she expected it to be removed, I don't know.

Yes, I'm pleased with her performance, but of course... the bet wasn't about her performance... it was about that silly show on television.

Her whimpers seem to be questions,
.
.
.
.
.
.
she struggles,
.
.
.
.
.
her face is turned towards Me,
.
.
.
.
.
.
clearly she's puzzled.

Everything goes still, however, when I gently place the flogger across her tummy. I think she recognized what it was the instant the leather tails touched her flesh.


I turn, heading to take a long, hot shower before I busy myself with enjoying her. I hear her thrashing around, those whimpers and "mmmpphhffsss" begging Me to not leave her alone...
.
.
.
.
.
.
alone w/ that toy stirring her insides.

After the shower, I'll probably turn her over, pull her hosiery down to expose her bare bottom... the flogger will warm her cheeks nicely,
.
.
.
.
.
.
then I'll use my hands. There's something about her skin when it's so hot in my cold hands.

Her sex is on fire
.
.
.
.
.
.
no doubt about it.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
DestructiveCriticism said...

I'll give you this, SCW... a little slap & tickle is something everyone is up for... most folks fancy themselves as having a wild side, but allowing a lover to buckle a ballgag on them sort of locks 'em into the roll, so to "speak"... [WHEW] big payoff, big risk.

Blondage said...

I heart Sweet Cops Wife.

*grin*

Slap and tickle?

*purrrrr*

DestructiveCriticism said...

Ooops... did I say that "slap and tickle" thing outloud?

Blondage said...

I'm a heavy on the slaps, light on the tickle kind of girl.....

*giggling*

DestructiveCriticism said...

[scribbling notes furiously]
.
.
.
"Slaps" it is then!!!

Anonymous said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
DestructiveCriticism said...

I don't know who's being held down, who's being tickled and who gets to watch... but count me in for 2 outta 3... I'll take those odds!

LOL!