Bound to Please

Peter groaned. His buttocks contracted and he arched his back, lifting his pelvis off the bed in a futile attempt to reach Susana’s mouth, hanging teasingly just a centimetre or so above the tip of his straining cock. Her left hand circled the base of his tool, squeezing lightly in a rhythm that matched the slow passage of her tongue in and out between her parted lips.

There was a bead of wetness at the tip of his cock. Susana dipped and gently licked it up, then dipped a little further and slid her lips down over the silky-smooth head of his dick. It jerked as a spasm of sweet frustration ran through him, and he tried again to force himself upwards further into her mouth. But she rose with him, her lips tight behind the roll of flesh at the head of his penis.

Inside her warm, wet mouth, her tongue tickled at the sensitive underside of his glans and teased at the opening. He groaned again, and she took brief pity on him, rolling forward on her knees and inching her mouth down his tortured shaft until her lips touched her encircling fingers.

Then she was rising away from him again, suction dragging the skin of his cock upwards and her tongue stabbing at the fleshy channel on its underside. He rose with her as far as he could, then dropped back to the bed and his cock flopped against his belly as it slipped free of her mouth. Susana laughed wickedly, rose up on her knees and arched her back as she jutted her pubes towards him. “Want this?” she whispered, and dropped her hand between her legs.

He watched, fascinated, straining at his bonds, as her fingers busied themselves with her pussy, parting, stroking, rubbing, dipping deep into her cunt and emerging shining with wetness. She leaned forward, brushed his lips with her dripping fingers. The feel was slightly oily, the odor slightly of mushrooms, and he parted his lips and sucked the juice from first one finger and then another. Susana’s other hand trailed up the inside of his thigh and wrapped itself around his prick, began to milk it slowly. Peter’s consciousness split itself into two parts, half centred on the fingers in his mouth, half contemplating the still-mounting excitement in his groin as Susana tugged and squeezed his throbbing erection.

Then the fingers in his mouth were forgotten, and he was suddenly nothing more than a giant cock, aching with the anticipation of impending orgasm. Dimly, through a red fog of passion, he heard Susana muttering. “Come now,” she was saying. “Come. Come. Come now.”

_

It had been an amazing evening. Susana was in an astonishingly provocative mood, teasing at every opportunity and keeping him in an almost fearful state of sexual excitement. It began when she picked him up from the office. “You drive,” she said, and waited for him to open the passenger-side door for her. She was wearing the black off-the-shoulder blouse she had on the night he first saw her, and she tugged it lower as she settled into the seat beside him. He tore his eyes from the smooth brown roundness of her shoulders, started the car and swung out on to the highway.

Susana tiptoed her hand across the gap between the seats and squeezed the inside of his thigh, then slipped it higher. She nudged lightly with the back of her hand, turned it over and scratched gently at his fly. “Naughty,” she said as his cock stirred and stiffened. She flattened her hand against the front of his trousers, worked it down to cup his balls, and squeezed softly. “You want to be sucked?” she asked. “You want me to tie you up and suck all of the juice out of you?”

His swelling cock, bent almost double inside his pants, struggled to find a way to stand erect. He dropped a hand from the wheel to his crotch, eased her hand out of the way, and adjusted himself. Susana laughed, put both her hands in her lap and sat demurely the rest of the way to the restaurant.

Halfway through the meal she excused herself. “I have to mimi,” she said, like a little girl. When she came back, she kissed him lightly on the cheek, pressed something soft into his hand and closed his fingers over it as she sat down. “Put that in your pocket,” she said, and grinned. “Don’t wave it around.” He placed his hand in his lap, opened his fingers, looked down at black lace. Her panties. Sweating, he balled the flimsy fabric and stuffed it in his pocket.

Later, when it was his turn to visit the loo, he locked himself in a stall and pulled the lacy garment from his pocket. “This is crazy,” he thought, the blood pounding in his temples and his chest tight with a hot, stuffy feeling he had not had since he lost his virginity to his eighth-grade English teacher. “I must be going out of my mind.” But he held the panties to his nose and sniffed. Susana’s perfume, and a lingering musky scent that certainly wasn’t perfume but just as certainly WAS Susana, flooded into his nostrils and imprinted themselves on his brain. Quickly, guiltily, he stuffed the panties back in his pocket, then remembered that he was supposed to be taking a leak. He unzipped his fly, found that taking a leak wasn’t easy with half an erection, and had to wait until it subsided. His face was still flushed when he got back to the table, and Susana leered knowingly at him. She leaned across the table, caressed the back of his hand with a fingertip, mouthed a silent message at him: “Want to be sucked?”

As he drove them back to his flat, she hitched her skirt up, spread her legs and half-reclined her seat. She took his left hand off the wheel and placed it between her legs. The inside of her thighs was smooth, cool, dry, but higher up there was warmth and wetness. She held his fingers, guiding them up and down the slippery canyon of her crack, pressing down on the back of his hand to force his middle finger deep inside her sopping cunt. When he decided he needed his hand for the business of driving, she reluctantly let it go. “I’ll fix you later,” she said.

She did, too. When they got to the flat she reached in the back seat, took out a plastic supermarket bag and followed him inside. There were no preliminaries, no pause for a drink. She came straight at him, ripping open his shirt and peeling it from his back, tearing at his belt. Peter barely had time to kick off his shoes before his trousers were down around his ankles and her teeth were nipping at the bulge in his underpants. He raised her to her feet, tried to kiss her, but she was having none of that. “Get on the bed,” she husked.

As he flopped back on the covers she picked up the plastic bag, poured its contents out on the floor. There were four wide leather watchbands, four elastic shock-cord “tie-downs”. Swiftly, stepping purposefully from one side of the bed to the other, she strapped a band around each of his wrists, then each of his ankles, slipped one end of a cord through each of the bands, and tied them off. His rising excitement formed a quivering pyramid in the front of his pants as she passed the other end of the cord on his left ankle around the leg of the bed, pulled it tight and hooked it back on itself. Then his right leg, his right arm, and back around the bed to his left arm.

Peter flexed his muscles, testing the strength of his bonds. None of them gave by more than a few centimetres. He was helpless, but there was no fear, only a burning anticipation as he imagined her pulling down the front of his pants and gobbling his prick. Susana picked his trousers off the floor, reached in the pocket and pulled out her panties. She clambered on to the bed, straddled his belly, and gagged him with the fragrant black lace, tying it tightly behind his head. The textured fabric slipped between his parted teeth, pulled at the corners of his mouth and pressed against his tongue. This was a refinement that he hadn’t imagined, and he tried, too late, to protest.

Susana ignored his muffled noises. She grabbed him by the hair, pulled his head forward and jammed two pillows behind it, then levered herself off his body and got off the bed. She ran a hand up the inside of his right thigh and flicked at his tented erection. “I’ll fix you now, prick,” she said. Peter jerked with shock as she rummaged in her handbag, came up with a wicked-looking vegetable knife, and grinned evilly at him as she tested its sharpness with her thumb.

Suddenly less sure of the way things were going, Peter struggled with his bonds. The shock cord gave a little, not enough. “Crazy bitch,” he thought, then, almost desperately, “Just how crazy IS she?” His balls contracted and his erection collapsed. Susana gripped the knife between her teeth, stripped off her skirt and blouse and clambered, naked, up the foot of the bed to kneel between his outspread legs. Slowly, thoughtfully, she trailed the point of the knife up the inside of his left thigh, over his tightly contracted testicles and limp dick, and up his belly to just below his breastbone. She reached out with her left hand, plucked at a hair beside his right nipple, and sliced it off.

Peter was frozen with indecision. Really, just how crazy WAS she? Susana was feeding on his fear. She grinned again, wet her lips with her tongue. “Time to be fixed,” she said, and trailed the knife back again to the top of his left thigh. Her left hand brushed between his legs, just below his balls. Then, so quickly he had no time to think what she was doing, she hooked two fingers through the right leg of his underpants to the waistband, pulled the bunched fabric towards her, and slit it through, then did the same on the other side. She tossed the knife off the bed, turned down the front flap of his ruined pants and lowered her head to the tiny, quivering heap of his frightened penis.

Peter closed his eyes in sudden relief, and moaned as she slurped his limp prick into her mouth and began busily massaging it with her lips and tongue. It responded instantly, swelling, straightening, lengthening inside her mouth until it was fully erect. He grew still harder watching and feeling the glistening wet shaft sliding deep into her mouth, then re-appearing for almost its whole length as she dipped and rose in precise time with his labored breathing.

Soon, too soon, he was gasping through the gag in his mouth and grinding his hips upwards as her head descended, in an effort to bury his cock up to the hilt in her mouth. She stopped, raised her head and smiled wetly at him. Then she rose up on her knees, reached forward and undid the gag. “Crazy bitch,” he said. “Fuck you,” she said, and kissed him.

She clambered over his legs, sat on his chest, her feet on either side of his head. She leaned back, took her weight on her hands, and thrust her cunt at his mouth. “Eat me,” she said. Peter lapped hungrily at her dripping slit, driving his tongue deep inside and savoring the musky odor that he remembered so well from his shameful session in the loo with her panties. Susana closed her eyes in ecstasy, pulled away from him as the shuddering began. She sat up, dragged one of the pillows from behind his head, stood, turned, and squatted over his face.

As she lowered herself once more to meet his ministering tongue, she leaned forward and regained possession of his cock. Once again, it sank deep into her mouth. Once again, it took on a life of its own, swelling and stiffening as she sucked and dived, sucked and dived, each change of direction accompanied by a soft, wet slurping sound. She began a rolling motion with her hips, pressing her cunt back against his probing tongue. Then she stopped, his cock half in and half out of her mouth, and the shuddering began again. She whimpered, and Peter redoubled the intensity of his licking.

The shuddering increased and she half pulled away from his mouth, then pressed back against it. Suddenly she squealed, and Peter was laughing and fighting for breath at the same time as her vaginal muscles contracted in orgasm and flooded his mouth and nose with a mixture of her juices and his own saliva. Four more contractions, and she rolled off him, turned and took his dripping face in her hands. “Sorry,” she whispered. He laughed again. “No problem,” he said. “Come anytime.”

“Prick,” she said, and kissed him, then wriggled down the bed and knelt again between his legs.

_

“Come. Come now,” she said again, and Peter was jerked back from his reverie of the evening so far. He was vaguely aware that both her hands now were working away at him, one holding the tip of his cock the way you pick up a chess piece, the other pumping, pumping away relentlessly at his twitching shaft. “Mouth,” he gasped. “Your mouth. SUCK ME!” She shook her head. “Later,” she said, and stepped up the speed of her pumping. “Come now.”

Peter pulled at the cords holding his arms to the head of the bed on either side, but as big and strong as he was he could neither break them nor pull free of the bands around his wrists. He slumped his shoulders back on the bed, began to writhe his hips in time to the rhythm of her hand racing up and down, up and down the straining pole that had become the whole focus of his existence. Lights danced in front of his eyes and he shook his head violently as the first wave of orgasm crashed through his frame.

Susana gripped him tighter, pumped faster. She took the hand away from the head of his cock, pressed again behind his balls, and relaxed her grip on his shaft. Peter screamed softly as the dammed-up essence jetted up the length of his cock, spurted through the air and splashed over his chest. Susana squeezed again, pumped, released and there was another surge of sperm over his belly. His cock jerked, twitched as spasm after spasm ran through him. His juice poured out of him in a series of short, agonising spurts and his whole body shook and twisted with each fresh contraction. Then it was finished, and he lay perfectly still, exhausted and feeling slightly ridiculous.

Susana snickered, flicked again at his softening tool. “What happened?” she said, her eyes wide with pretended wonder. She traced a pattern in the wetness on his belly, reached out and picked a gob of sperm from among the hairs on his chest, made a show of slurping it off her fingers. A last dribble slipped out of the end of his cock and she bent her head to it. Peter winced as she took the super-sensitive tip in her mouth and sucked him dry. She nuzzled his belly, cleaning him up with her tongue. Her lips glistened as she raised her head to look at him, and her eyes sparkled with the knowledge of the happiness she had just bestowed on him.

She placed a hand on either side of his chest, wormed her way up his body, and kissed him deeply. Her breath was sweet, her lips and tongue were salty, and Peter was surprised to discover that he tasted strongly of the garlic prawns they had had for dinner.