Britches-n-Prose

Photo by tnarik

I like being tied up. There I said it, no shame in it.

I like being out of control, being used by my lover.

I like getting lost in the moment, getting out of my own head. Coming up for air and wondering what the hell is going on around me.

I will stand by it being one of the best ways to cum (at the very least my favorite).

I recently found a lover who was equally as interested in tying me up, as I was in getting tied up. It was on! He orderd a book, bought some nice silk rope (he values my distaste for rope burn), and started reading.

The first night we tried it I was so excited. He started by tying my hands behind my neck, criss-crossing the rope over my chest so my tits were being squeezed (this made my nipples extra sensitive). He then slipped on the pre-assembled ankle cuffs, and attached my hands to my ankles.

Part of the fun of bondage for me is resiting, screaming no, and having him ignore my cries for freedom. This can cause some confusion if not properly addressed before the ropes go on. We had not picked a “safe word.” A trigger, that has nothing to do with saying no, other than you know it means stop. Our safety word talk stemmed from the color my feet were starting to turn, and I had no way to stop the situation (lucky for me, he was keeping an eye on my limbs).

A safety word should be something you both will remember, but not something you would normally say while you’re doing the dirty. We’re nerds, so we originally talked about words like “wordpress” or “vista,” but quickly decided they were too much like work. My lover suggested “playstation” but this was something even if I needed things to stop I could not bring myself to scream during sex. I typically prefer names, as they are easy to scream in the middle of the dirty, and don’t seem to bring the mood to an abrupt halt.

After much more brainstorming I suggested “Bowser,” a nice middle ground between a name and the video game lingo we both could remember. And thus our safe word was born.

I recently submitted this to a contest on Allison Tyler’s blog, the theme was S&M, I hope you enjoy it.

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Missing Cuffs

He had my shirt over my head, but I could hear him digging through our “red box” by the bed. I knew he was looking for the wrist cuffs, I knew they wouldn’t be there.

“Missing a few pieces are we?”

I didn’t answer, an answer meant a fight, silence meant…

“No matter.” He left me on the bed just for a moment. I had no idea where he went, instantly regretting I had put down a rug the week before.

Returning I felt something silky slide across my erect nipples, a scarf, he was resourceful, and fast, I was tied up in what felt like a second.

I was already on my stomach so he pulled my ass up to his hips, running his fingers over the now white skin (I knew would be red soon enough).

“You know you shouldn’t have lost those cuffs.”

I felt the leather tassels of the whip hit my ass before I even heard anything. The warmth spreading up my back to my tits, giving them goose bumps. The whip came down again, and again, until I felt both his warmth and pressure inside of me.

I knew better than to fight it, he collapsed on me as we both moaned and cried, both riveting from the explosion.

He removed my shirt and kissed my mascara-smeared face.

I always knew those Boy Scout life lessons in knot making would come in handy someday, maybe the cuffs will just never turn up.