It was a summer of firsts for me: my first sex, my first discovery of the beauty and excitement of bound women and my first submissive woman. But I am getting ahead of myself. The story begins with summer break from high school when I was sixteen.
Like most kids my age I was torn between wanting to earn some money and wanting to just kick back and enjoy the long lazy summer days. The perfect opportunity came when the school announced a program sponsored by the American Legion for young kids to earn money by being handymen for women whose husbands were off at war. The idea was that we would spend one day a week at each woman’s home, mowing the lawn, weeding flower beds, touching up paint. Whatever needed to be done. I signed up to work three days a week and was given three addresses.
Tuesdays were spent at the home of a woman we will call Barbara Wilson. Mrs. Wilson was old, at least in the eyes of a sixteen year old boy. She must have been all of 30 or perhaps even 35. Still she was a very pretty lady and had a very attractive figure which was often displayed in her tight tops and jeans. She was friendly and always had a soda for me at the end of the day and insisted on my calling her Barbara rather than Mrs. Wilson.
The work wasn’t particularly hard. She had a large lawn to mow and then the rest of the afternoon was spent clearing some weeds and brush from the woods behind the tract of her home. While it wasn’t hard work, it was hot and sweaty and I generally took off my shirt and worked in my jeans and what we called tennis shoes (though no one I knew had ever played tennis).
It was perhaps the third time at Mrs. Wilson’s when I slipped on the bank of a muddy puddle while clearing brush. It was no big deal except that my shoe and the leg of my jeans got all wet and muddy. Barbara, Mrs. Wilson, saw me working and called me to her porch.
"You can’t work in those wet things." She said, "Go upstairs and take a shower and I will clean them off for you."
I thought she was just going to scrape the mud off and I got paid by the day, no matter how much progress I made, so a nice clean shower sounded good. I went upstairs and stripped off in the bathroom and climbed into the shower. While I was washing I heard Mrs. Wilson come into the bathroom.
"I’m just picking up the dirty stuff to wash."
I was embarrassed to be nude with a woman in the room just separated by a shower curtain and mumbled something like "OK."
"I left you a clean towel and a robe to wear," she said, "I don’t want to start the machine until after you are out of the shower."
That made sense. If you ran a washing machine while someone was in the shower the water temperature kept fluctuating. In any case I finished my shower, climbed out and dried off. I found the robe she had left me but didn’t like it much. It was a silky rayon thing that seemed very feminine to me. It was short but covered me to mid thigh or a little lower so I shrugged into it and tied the sash.
As I exited the bathroom I called out "I’m all done. You can start the machine now."
Barbara called back, "I’m in the laundry nook (yes that’s what it was called back then) and I have a problem. Could you come here and help me please?"
I went downstairs, feeling a bit strange in the silky gown, and proceeded to the laundry nook. As I rounded the door my eyes popped open wide. There was Mrs. Wilson with her top off in just her bra, loading laundry into the machine. She must have heard me because she looked back over her shoulder and said "Oh, there you are. I wanted do my wash at the same time but I am having trouble with the clasp on this bra. Could you undo it for me?"
Now even in those days I wasn’t completely ignorant of sex. As with most of the boys in my grade I had ‘made out’ with a girl or two. While I had groped a girl’s breasts under her shirt and bra I had never actually gotten much further. There were a couple of guys who had claimed to have gone all the way but viewed from my later life I was pretty certain that that was bull and my limited experience was about as much as any of us had done. Oh we had seen dirty books and picture magazines but it was all pretty tame stuff.
In any case, while I knew the basics of unhooking a bra, I had never been up close with one. Here I was looking at the back of a real live woman with nothing on but her bra. And she wanted me to undo it. Mrs. Wilson had a lovely smooth back with skin that just begged to be stroked, and that tapered into a thin waist above a beautiful rounded ass (which was fully covered by her delightfully tight jeans).
This all took what we would now call a nanosecond to observe. I stepped forward and saying some brilliant thing like ‘sure’ reached for her bra. Now there was no problem with the clasp (actually two hooks) and I soon had her bra undone. She turned to smile at me and ‘accidentally’ one bra strap and cup slid down exposing what to my 16 year old mind was the most perfect and beautiful breast in all creation.
Yes I have grown up and I understand that there was no problem with the hooks and that the exposed breast had nothing accidental about it, but this is now and that was then. At the time I was in Nirvana. Here was a full sized beautiful female breast. I couldn’t help staring as I felt my anatomy shift south of the belt line.
Barbara smiled at me and then said "Do you like my breasts?" As she said this she moved her arm allowing the other half of the bra to slide down. She deftly caught it and flicked it into the washing machine. I was speechless. Here was this lovely woman topless. Not one but two perfect breasts in view.
Well, OK, in retrospect they really weren’t that perfect. But they were full and round and ripe and very inviting. Barbara turned back to the washing machine hiding her breasts (Damn!) and finished loading the soap and setting the controls. Then she turned back giving me a full view and, as she glanced at my groin, saying "Yes, I can see you do."
I followed her gaze and saw that I was fully erect and poking out from the short robe. I was embarrassed and excited at the same time and was about to try to stuff myself back under the robe when Barbara preempted me. She did this by stepping forward so that those delightful breasts were almost touching me and grasped my erection. I think I must have squeaked as she wrapped her hand around me and said "You can touch them if you like."
If I like? I don’t think many grown heterosexual men could have resisted an invitation from Barbara. I certainly couldn’t. I lifted my hands and gently fondled both of her breasts. Barbara had nice breasts without much sag. Her aureoles were quite large and as I fondled, stroked and eventually licked at her nipples, they became quite prominent. I elicited several positive sounding moans from her and I remember being thankful for the trial and error lessons learned with several of my female classmates on how to caress a breast.
Barbara gently squeezed my penis and began to walk backwards, leading me upstairs to her bedroom. The gentle pull on my penis, as though it were the handle of a pot, kept me moving in the direction she wanted while my mind and hands were fully occupied with those wonderful boobs, sorry breasts.
When she had me in the bedroom she let go of my penis and opened the belt to my robe. She pushed it off my shoulders and there I was nude and erect in her bedroom. She licked her lips in what I have since come to regard as a predatory manner and unsnapped her jeans. She peeled of her jeans and panties revealing her crotch. Well, actually she revealed her pubic hair. I had a basic understanding of the female anatomy (magazines, remember?) but I couldn’t actually see much.
Barbara held up a foil package and said, "I found this in your jeans, you dirty little man."
I was mortified and answered, "But I never..."
She hushed me with a finger to my lips followed by pressing her body against me. "It’s OK," she said, "I’ll show you how." I don’t recall saying anything, I was just enjoying that spectacular body against mine, her bare breasts pressing against the flesh of my bare chest, and savoring the kiss.
Barbara opened the foil packet and rolled the condom (we called them rubbers, in those days) over me. The she lay back on the bed and motioned me to join her. Well, I had the theory down pat even if I had never had the experience so I fumbled my way between her legs and with her assistance slid into her.
Wow! I had thought the sight and feel of her breasts was spectacular. This was great. Tight and hot and alive her pussy gripped me as I began, with the most natural motion in the world, stroking in and out of her. Of course I didn’t last very long and was soon, much too soon from her point of view, filling the condom. Barbara didn’t seem surprised or disappointed though I was very sorry it had all ended. Or at least that was what I thought at the moment.
Under Barbara’s tutelage I removed the condom, tied a knot in the end and flushed it down the toilet. She stood next to me in the bathroom and rinsed both our groins with a warm wet cloth. Ah, the resilience of youth. I didn’t really get hard but I was no longer quite flaccid. I was sort of semi-erect. Then she tossed the wash rag into the sink, sank to her knees and took my member in her moth saying something like "Let’s see what this can do with a little encouragement."
Oh double wow! I had seen a woman naked, had sex and was now getting a blow job. What more to life could there be? My recollections may have grown cloudy with both age and experience but as I recall, Barbara was good with her mouth. Make that very good. She used her tongue, suction and her lips and in a very few minutes had me rock hard again.
When I was again fully erect, she stood up and led me back to the bed where she proceeded to open the night table drawer and pull out another foil packet. In retrospect with her husband away at war, Barbara must have planned this little scene carefully. At the moment however I thought nothing of it. This time she proceeded to use her hand to pinch down at the base of my cock and hold me back when I showed signs of ejaculation. She also played with her clitoris and then brought my hand to play with it. Between her experience and my youthful exuberance we managed to keep me going until she had an orgasm.
While still in her bed, while I was in my post coital stupor, Barbara warned me that this had to be our secret. Then she got my clothes into the dryer and after a bit of cuddling and another warning not to talk about what had happened she told me that she would see me next Tuesday. Was that an implied promise?
It turns out it was. For the next several weeks I would mow the lawn and then shower and climb into bed with Barbara. It was a young man’s version of heaven. She always took the lead and spent considerable time working on my ability to hold back on my orgasms and teaching me how to please a woman. We were beyond pretense and seduction. I didn’t much like the way she gave me instructions on what to do and how to do it. I was getting a great education that has stood me well all my life but, as with many young students, just because the education is great doesn’t mean you like taking orders from the teacher. I didn’t really mind this as it was the price I paid for sex, though in retrospect I suppose she was dominating me. Still I was having great sex once a week and improving my technique exponentially.
The strange thing that happened was that, as I grew better in bed with Barbara, apparently my experience increased my self-confidence which in turn sent some sort of subliminal signal to the girls in school. While I never discussed our sex sessions with anyone, I found that I was becoming more popular with girls in my class. What sexual activity I did get into with them was less fumble fingered and more structured to ensure their enjoyment which seemed to increase my popularity to the opposite sex even further.
Things might have gone on like this all summer if it hadn’t been for two seemingly unrelated things. First one of the boys showed up with John Wylie’s Sweet Gwendolyn. I don’t know where he got it, but the drawings of Gwen tightly roped by Sir Darcy and The Countess (the word "The" was always capitalized when it was The Countess) and even by her friend the beautiful Agent 69 (some reprints edited her name to 89 but don’t you believe it) who was constantly rescuing Gwen, influenced and aroused me. This was strange as most of the boys preferred the magazines with nude women. The characters in Wylie’s drawings were always dressed, albeit sometimes in lingerie. Still, I found the pictures of shapely women tightly bound to be very erotic.
The other thing was the discussions that circulated when one of the girls became pregnant. Her boyfriend was over 18 and was arrested. This was the first time that we had been aware of the fact that ‘grown ups’ couldn’t have sex with ‘kids’. This made me perk up my ears and by discrete listening I learned about statutory rape. This was of particular interest to me and as soon as I understood the concept, I understood that Barbara could be sent to jail for what we were doing yet I wasn’t old enough to be guilty of any crime.
I suppose that as I thought of this I also came to the realization that Barbara had a great deal more at risk than I did. Her reputation (which was important in those days) and even her marriage were at risk if this came out. No wonder she had lectured me so on keeping our liaison secret.
I don’t know when I connected the sexy John Wylie drawings with thoughts of the lovely Barbara. It just seemed to me that she would look so delicious nude and in my ropes. In any event I eventually decided that, armed with the knowledge that she was very exposed if our escapades were ever to surface, I ought to see just how far I could push Barbara. Accordingly, I took along a couple of pieces of rope next Tuesday.
Now I look back and realize what a little shit I was in those days. Here I had this lovely woman giving me sex and working on improving my knowledge and technique. I should have been obscenely grateful. But, being sixteen, I convinced myself that she was taking advantage of me and bossing me around. Not a great excuse for my behavior but there it was.
After mowing I came indoors, meeting Barbara in the kitchen. She was wearing shorts and a halter top. I admired how lovely she looked as she got out a cool soda for me. This was the routine we had settled into. I would drink the soda while we chatted, then we would both go upstairs. I would shower while she undressed and then we would meet on her bed where our sexual liaison would take place.
This time, though I almost was afraid to begin, I set the soda down and said, "You know what we are doing is wrong. Some people would say you are raping me."
She looked at me strangely and said, "Oh, come on now. Everything we have done has been something we both wanted to do."
"Sure," I replied, "but I am only sixteen. If it came out people would say I was being led astray. Think of what would happen if people knew."
I could see the fear in her eyes as she realized that her reputation, her marriage and even her freedom could be in jeopardy. "But you wouldn’t tell anyone would you?" she asked, almost pleaded.
I didn’t answer directly. Instead I said, "I want to play a game. Turn around and give me your hands."
She looked puzzled but turned and put her hands back. They weren’t together or anything but I pulled out the shorter of my ropes and wrapped a loop over both wrists. I pulled the loop bringing her wrists together and quickly wrapped two more loops. She took a moment to understand what was happening and then tried to draw her hands forward. It was too late. I had already gotten the first knot in place and simply cinched the wrist rope ensuring that she couldn’t pull loose.
Then I let go and watched her tug and twist. What a rush. I had tied up a beautiful sensual woman and she was (more or less) under my control. She danced around trying to get loose to no avail. Finally she stopped, facing me, recognized that things were now under my control, and asked, "What are you going to do?"
That was a good question. To tell the truth I hadn’t thought much beyond the first rope and the idea of tying up a live woman. To mask my uncertainty I turned her around by her shoulders so that I was once again admiring the smooth silky expanse of her back. I admired the taper from her shoulders to her waist and without thinking said, "I think you better call me sir from now on."
I heard a slight gasp from her but she responded, "Yes sir."
Now in truth I had been thinking of Sir Darcy in the Gwen comic and had thought that I might have Barbara call me ‘Sir Anthony’ but as soon as I heard it I recognized that the subservient sir was just perfect.
Barbara asked, "What are you going to do to me, sir?"
It was to perfect; ‘Do to her’ and then the ‘sir.’ As I looked at he I decided to strip her but replied simply, "Whatever I want."
"Please don’t hurt me." She said with a quaver in her voice.
"You forgot the sir."
As I gazed at her I looked at the halter top. It wasn’t the skimpy kind you see today that exposes the sides of the breasts. It had a wide strip of cloth around her stomach that fastened in the rear with two large cloth covered buttons. There was a generous swath of cloth rising from the band to encase each breast and a third button behind her neck. She obviously had no bra beneath the halter and I thought she looked sexy as all get out.
"Please don’t hurt me, sir," she repeated.
I replied, "I would never hurt you, you are much too sexy."
As I said it I opened the button behind her neck and allowed the two strips of cloth covering her breasts to fall until they dangled uselessly from the waist band. I don’t know why I didn’t turn her around so that I could see her lovely breasts but instead I wrapped my arms around her pulling her back against be. My hand cupped and fondled her breasts and I heard a little moan escape her.
I had learned that Barbara had unusually sensitive breasts and nipples. During our romps I had been able to bring her to the edge of orgasm just by nipple play. Now with her arms bound behind her she was quickly moved to moans that signified how very aroused she was. As I massaged her breasts I asked, "Who do you belong to?"
"Oh, you Anthony," she replied relief apparent in her voice.
Whoops, she had gotten so comfortable in the familiar foreplay that she had forgotten the sir. I took on a sterner tone and said, "You are a bad little girl. You forgot to call me sir."
I reached between us and undid the two buttons holding the rest of her halter and set it on the kitchen table. A plan was forming in my mind. As I reached around to her side and unbuttoned the waist band of her shorts I asked, "What happens to naughty little girls?"
As I unzipped her shorts and let them fall she tried to dodge around the question saying, "I don’t know sir."
I slipped my hands into the elastic of her panties and pushed them down over that luscious ass until they joined her shorts on the floor. "You don’t know?"
"No sir."
"Think! What happens to a naughty little girl?"
I think she was beginning to realize what I had in mind as there was a sharp intake of breath and no answer. I answered for her. "They get punished, don’t they?"
Still no answer so I playfully swatted her rear and asked again, "Don’t they?"
She replied with a quiver in her voice, "Yes sir."
I bent down and lifted her right foot out of her shorts and panties. At the same time I slipped off her right sandal. "Yes sir what?" I demanded.
As I completed removing the left sandal and the last of her clothes she surrendered and said, "Naughty little slave girls get punished sir."
Wow again. I hadn’t used the term slave but she had obviously had some exposure to the whole concept. I moved Barbara to the kitchen table and had her bend over it so that her upper body was pressed against the Formica surface with her head and shoulders sticking off the far side. I pulled out my second length of rope and placed it across her back leading the ends of the rope under her arms and dropping down on the far side of the table. I realized that this was the last piece of rope I had brought but fortunately it was a long one.
I crouched under the table and gathered the loose ends of the rope. Pulling them back forced Barbara further down on the table top and I tied off the rope to the near side table legs with a single knot. Then ordering Barbara to spread her legs I looped the last bit of rope around Barbara’s ankles, first one and then the other, securing them spread wide to the table legs. I wasn’t very expert with rope back then but it was enough to do the job.
I stood up and admired my ‘slave girl’ and her position. Her breasts were pressed against the table while her shoulders and head hung off the far side. Nearer to me her beautiful ass (and she did have a great ass) was stretched tautly by her position. She was reaching back as though she wanted to protect her buns with her fingers but with the rope welding her to the table top she was unable to arch her back and her fingers barely touched the very top of her ass cheeks. I was surprised (because of my lack of experience) to note that with her legs widely stretched both her pussy and anus were clearly visible.
The entire scene was made more enjoyable by the ordinary, even banal, setting. We were in a perfectly ordinary kitchen with the sun streaming in through the window over the sink. Magnets adorned the refrigerator, cups and implements were neatly stacked on the shelves and in the cupboards. But there on the Formica and chrome table was a gorgeous woman. Not just a lovely woman, but a sensual nude woman, held in place by my ropes.
I think I instinctively knew that humiliation was part of the game as I told Barbara that she was to say ‘thank you’ after each spank. I swatted her ass and heard her grunt. Then she said "Thank you sir." It was a marvelous rush.
I continued for some time with her buns changing from milky white to pink and then to angry red. She was crying now but remembering to say thank you after each swat. For a while she was jerking with each swat but as the spanking went on her grunts changed in tone and I could smell her arousal. I glanced at her pussy and saw it glistening with her juices. The woman was getting off on being spanked! Of course I know now that she isn’t unique but at the time I considered this to be one of the wonders of the world.
When my arm grew tired I walked away leaving her tied to the table. She didn’t call out as she seemed to be in some sort of sexual haze. I went up to her bedroom to got a condom from the bedside table where I knew she kept them. While there I saw a shiny metal torpedo shape with a knob on the end. A little experimentation revealed it to be a vibrating dildo. I took the dildo with me and also went into the bathroom and picked up a jar of Vaseline and Barbara’s bottle of body lotion.
When I got back down she had come down from her haze and seemed alert. She jerked when I squirted some lotion on her red ass. I guess I should have warmed it in my hands first. In any case I began to massage and fondle her buns. I did this for some time with repeated trips between her legs to cup and brush against that lovely wet pussy. At first she sighed as the lotion soothed her buns but gradually her sounds became more sexual moans.
I was very hard and could have taken her just then but wanted to reinforce my dominance. I dipped the dildo into the jar of Vaseline and then turned it on. I’m not certain if she heard the hum but she certainly felt it when I pressed the dildo against her anus. Barbara shrieked but I simply pressed a bit harder and the relatively slim vibrator slid into her before she could vocalize her protest. I must have done a great job of having worked her up because the vibrator wasn’t fully into her when she came.
It was fascinating to watch her pussy. While she had orgasmed with me before it had always been when I was inside her. Now I was able to see her lips opening and closing like a fish out of water in the milking action I had only felt before and watch as her fluids flowed out and dripped onto the floor.
At this point I opened my fly and pulled out my already turgid member. I applied the condom and slipped into her from the rear. Despite our several encounters we had never gotten around to doggy style and entering from the rear was a entirely new position for me. Despite her wide spread legs she was tight, as well as wet and hot. I could feel the heat from her buns against my body as I pushed into her.
I knew I wouldn’t last very long but Barbara’s lessons on pleasing your partner were second nature to me now. I reached around her hip and worked my hand between the table and her body until I could find that all important clitoris. It was, as you might imagine, already hard and ready for action. I began stroking it and gently tugging on it in a rhythm that matched my strokes. As I felt the now familiar sensation of approaching orgasm I sped up my manipulation of her clit and managed to bring us both off together. It was actually pretty awesome.
It was getting late and my parents would be expecting me home soon so I untied Barbara’s hands and feet, I helped her stand up. She looked at me and said, "Wow! I mean wow, sir."
I smiled, said "Wow indeed," kissed her goodbye and left.
As you might imagine my head was awhirl most of that week with visions of Barbara tied in extreme (and unlikely) positions as I played with her body and brought us to orgasm after orgasm. I had left my two lengths of rope at her home but made certain to bring several more in my backpack next Tuesday.
When I got to the house I unlimbered the lawn mower but before I even got it started Barbara call me into the house. She waved from the back porch and said, "Anthony could you come in for a minute please." No sir, but that was OK we were still in our work as opposed to our play mode. At least that’s what I told myself.
As I came in I noticed that Barbara was dressed very conservatively in a blouse and skirt instead of her usual shorts and tight top. It emphasized the difference in our ages and I began to get the feeling that trouble was brewing.
She looked at me and said, "Anthony, I have been thinking of last week and we have to stop this. You were right, I shouldn’t be having sex with a teenaged boy and I think we will have to end it now."
Oh, oh! Not only was she upset about the spanking and ropes but she was proposing to end things completely. I was thinking furiously and missed her words as she continued at some length in the same vein. Then I remembered something from last year’s English literature class. We had been reading Shakespeare and a quote from one of the plays came to mind; "Faint heart ne’er won fair Lady."
Well I can tell you my heart was in my mouth but I remember thinking, what the heck, she is saying she is going to break things off, how much worse can things get. What I said was, "Barbara, stop! We are not going to end anything. We are going to go on and you are going to be my slave just as you were last week."
She looked at me and said, "Haven’t you heard what I said young man. I said it is over. We are..."
"Enough!" I shouted. Then in a more normal tone of voice I said "Nothing is over and you will go on. Do you know why?"
She stared at me, anger in her eyes, and asked, "Do you mean because you can blackmail me about what we have done?"
I smiled and said, "Well, there is that, but no. We are going to go on because you enjoyed it as much as I did. Now put you hands behind your head with the fingers laced together."
Her eyes got wide and she started to say something but I interrupted saying, "Now! Don’t bother to deny how you liked being spanked and then brought off while you were tied. I was there and saw how intense it was for you."
She blushed a bit and her mouth opened as if she was about to say something but lifted her hands and placed them behind her head. I was on a roll. I placed a finger on her lips in the universal ‘hush’ sign and then un buttoned the cuffs on the blouse she wore. I smiled at her and started with the neck button and slowly worked my way down opening her blouse. When I got to the bottom I tugged it from the waistband of the skirt.
Still smiling I reached around and un hooked her bra. It was a plain serviceable white cotton one. I told her, "You have beautiful breasts but this isn’t a very nice bra. You can dress as you like the rest of the week but from now on when I come over on Tuesdays you will either have on sexy underwear or none at all. Don’t speak, just nod."
She nodded and it was about then that I realized that I had won. My heart resumed its normal place in my chest and the lovely and sexy Barbara was once again topless before me. I reached for her hip and found the button holding the waistband of the skirt. Opening the button I pulled the zipper down over her hip and let the skirt fall to the floor. Now she wore only her panties which were also plain white cotton. I said, "When I said sexy underwear or none that means both the bra and the panties. Understand?"
Again she nodded as I slipped the panties over her hips. "Lose the shoes. My beautiful slave will go barefoot." I said.
She obediently kicked off her shoes saying, "Please don’t hurt me master."
Oh my, had I won! I liked her use of the word master and said, "Well, I do have to punish you for your reluctant (I might say recalcitrant is a better word but I had no idea of what it meant when I was sixteen) behavior. I promise that for my oh so lovely and sexy slave girl I will find a way to do that without hurting her."
She looked perplexed, but obediently padded out to the kitchen when I ordered her to find the rope I had left behind last week. I was already forming a devious plan in my mind. I didn’t really know if Barbara was ticklish but, with skin as sensitive to the touch as hers was, she probably was. Tickling when you are immobile in ropes can be agony. Then too even if she wasn’t ticklish enough for me I could tease and arouse her but not allow her to climax for hours. Well, perhaps not hours, but at least until I had to enter her for my own relief.
When she came back with the rope I had her hold her hands in front of her and cross her wrists. Three quick loops one way, then three the other and finally tight cinch and her hands were secured. I had Barbara turn around and I took the long rope. I put a single strand moderately tightly around her waist with the knot in back. At my orders Barbara lifted her bound arms on either side of her head and then, bending her elbows, moved her crossed wrists down behind her head.
I looped the tail of the waist rope through her crossed wrists and then fed it back under the waist rope. Carefully I threaded the rope between the cheeks of her ass and then between her legs. Spreading her outer lips to ensure the rope was well into her pussy I slipped it under the waist rope in front and wrapped the remaining length around my left hand. I tugged gently on the rope pulling her arms further back and forcing the rope to slide between her ass and pussy lips.
Her eyes widened as she realized that any movement of her arms would saw the rope back and forth over her most sensitive flesh. Holding the rope tightly with my left hand I reached forward and began to tickle her with my right hand. I began in her armpit but once I had her giggling I attacked her ribs and her belly as well as returning to the exposed armpit. Of course the natural reaction to being tickled it to try to bring your arm down to protect yourself. Poor Barbara. Every time her body or arms jerked under my relentless tickling she tugged on the crotch rope. I had promised not to hurt her but tickling wasn’t really hurting and if she could just manage to stand still the crotch rope wouldn’t really be bothersome.
Of course, it was impossible. The poor woman shrieked with laughter and twisted and jerked against the crotch rope. This went on for some time until I became distracted by Barbara’s breasts. I think I have mentioned that I like Barbara’s breasts.
Ah, yes. Barbara’s breasts. Barbara had a lovely rack as we used to call it. I was too young and inexperienced to guess at cup sizes but I knew they were considerably bigger than the girls I had groped in school. She was older and her breasts weren’t as perky as the girls in school but were large and heavy to the touch. There was some natural sag but not much and in any case this didn’t detract from their beauty. I suppose, in retrospect, that they might fail the infamous pencil test, but at the time they just looked full and ripe and exotic. They virtually begged to be fondled and caressed.
Tied as she was, with her arms lifted alongside her head, her breasts were pulled upward and lost any trace of sag. They were spread by her position and appeared smaller but were still very inviting. Barbara had a very unusual set of nipples. When aroused they were thicker and longer than a pencil eraser but that wasn’t what was so remarkable. What was really striking was the fact that the tips of her aroused nipples were almost flat. At the time my experience had been limited to young girls whose nipples tended to be pointy or rounded peaks and I just accepted Barbara’s flat tips as normal, supposing that was the way older women were. Looking back I realize how unusual they were and can’t help wondering if their (relatively) unusual shape had something to do with how extremely sensitive they were.
Well, I digress. I was tickling Barbara watching her twist and turn when I became distracted by her breasts and those wonderful turgid nipples. Still holding her in place with my left hand holding the crotch rope, I moved my right hand to caress her breast. I leaned forward and captured a nipple in my mouth. Gently holding the nipple in my mouth I lapped at it with my tongue while I gently rolled the other nipple with my right hand. Barbara’s shrieks and giggles died to be replaced by moans of pleasure. I knew she liked nipple play and was well into it when, while shifting my mouth from one side to the other, I noticed a tear on her cheek.
Oh,oh! I lifted my head and asked,"What’s the matter. Is something hurting?"
She sobbed,"No. Nothing hurts. That’s just it. I am such a slut. John is off at war and here I am enjoying everything you are doing and getting so horny I am about to come."
Well this was a conundrum. I understood that she was feeling guilty but didn’t know what to do about it. I knew instinctively that telling her that John, her husband, was probably taking every opportunity to visit any available Asiatic whore house wasn’t the right way to assuage her guilt. In the end I told her that it was normal for her to enjoy what we were doing and it was unnatural to abstain from sex while she was still a young woman. Now you have to understand that I didn’t think of her as a young woman but I was not above lying to keep my sex slave.
Wanting to change the mood I continued in this vein while I led her by the crotch rope to, and up, the stairs. She had no choice but to follow as I led her by the crotch rope. I would have avoided using her marital bed if there guest room had at least a double bed. Unfortunately it held two singles and that wasn’t enough room for romping with my slave girl. In the end she had stopped sobbing as I led her into her bedroom and had her lie down on her back.
Now bondage stories always seem to furnish bedrooms with sturdy four poster beds that provide convenient attachment points. Unfortunately, in real life, her bedroom was furnished with a perfectly ordinary queen sized bed with a box spring and mattress resting on a metal frame that didn’t even run the full length of the box spring. There was a sturdy wooden headboard at the top but no foot board whatsoever.
If that weren’t enough I realized that I had only the two lengths of rope to work with. I had left the others downstairs. Necessity, they say, is the mother of invention and, as I untied the waist/crotch rope I pondered how I was going to tie my lovely slave girl. Inspiration struck as I very gently extracted the rather sodden rope from between the equally wet lips of her pussy. I took off the belt I was wearing, ran it through the slats of the headboard, between her bound and crossed wrists and buckled it. I slid it around so that the buckle was up near the headboard and out of reach of her fingers. Of course at this point she could have just slid up and unbuckled the belt, but I had plans for immobilizing her.
I took the long rope that had been her waist rope/crotch rope/ leash and tied it to one ankle. Thought the steel bed frame didn’t run all the way to the bottom of the box spring, it had four sturdy legs with rollers holding the frame off the floor. Pulling her leg to one side of the bed I tied it to her ankle. Then I looped the rope around one leg of the frame, led it under the bed to the other leg of the frame and then stood. I pulled her other leg wide and tied off the end of the rope to her other ankle. Perfect Barbara was spread widely (obscenely?) open in kind of an inverted Y with her hand and arms stretched above her by my belt through her tied wrists. She couldn’t move up the bed to loosen the belt because her ankles were held by the rope running through the lower legs of the bed frame.
Having been well schooled by my lovely slave girl in the beneficial aspect of prolonged foreplay with women I spent several minutes working on her breasts and nipples as I undressed. Once I was also nude I opened her night table drawer for a condom. My eyes lit up when I saw the vibrating torpedo dildo I had used in her ass last week. Versatile little tool that it was, I thought I would see just how well it would do in and on her front this week.
It did better than I thought. While I kept my mouth busy on her nipples I ran the vibrator over her mound. I had expected to penetrate her with it but apparently the cumulative effects of the crotch rope and my tongue on her nipples had really aroused her. I passed the vibrator over her pubic bone and slipped towards her clit and she exploded into orgasm.
Now we had enjoyed orgasms before but there was something particularly beautiful in watching her explode while tied tightly. Her back arched, her entire body grew rigid and she moaned in ecstasy. Wow! Had I done all that for my sexy partner? I watched as the aftershocks coursed through her body, muscles trembling. Eventually her body relaxed from its tight arch and fell back to the bed.
Barbara was a bit incoherent mumbling, "Oh my God, Oh my God."
As I looked at her a thought occurred to me and I asked "Is that what Lezbos do?"
Her eyes, which had been fluttering, opened and she looked at me and asked, "What?"
She had missed a sir or master but given her almost incoherent state I decided to ignore it and explore this topic a little more. "How do lesbians make love? I know how queers do it. They fuck each other in the ass, but how do lesbians do it?" I asked.
Now I ought to explain that I don’t say lesbo and queer any more. While I am not a terribly PC sort of guy I don’t deliberately try to be offensive and have adopted the misnomer "gay" for homosexuals even though there is nothing particularly gay about the homosexual life style. Back then, however, sixteen year old boys only spoke of male homosexuals as ‘queers’ or ‘fagots’ or, in a tone of derision, as just ‘homos.’ As I recall it had something to do with being macho and proving our own masculinity. In any case that’s how I spoke to Barbara at the time.
Barbara saw that I was seriously interested in an answer and replied, "Well sir, there are lots of ways. Women make love differently than men. They might use a dildo or a vibrator or they might just use their hands and mouth."
Something clicked in my mind. All the locker room conversations about ‘box lunch at the Y’ and ‘muff diving’ and ‘eating her.’ I asked, "You mean they lick each others pussies? That sounds gross."
Barbara laughed at my naiveté and said, "Don’t knock it till you try it, master. You don’t find it gross when I take your cock in my mouth. Why should this be and different, sir?"
Well that was a good question and I couldn’t see why, logically, it would be different. So instead I asked, "And you cum from that?"
I knew the answer from her big smile before she responded, "Oh yeah. Big time."
I decided nothing ventured, nothing gained and knelt between her legs leaning forward.
"You don’t have to do that for me master."
"Just let me know if I should do something different," I said as I lowered my head. I could smell her juices but despite locker room experts it was nothing like dried fish. It was the smell I had come to associate with a very aroused woman. A bit different but certainly not offensive. I tentatively stuck my tongue out and touched her wet pussy. I pulled my tongue back in and savored the taste. Nothing offensive there.
I stuck my tongue out again and licked her slit from bottom to top without much penetration. She moaned and begged, "Deeper please master."
This time I stiffened my tongue and pushed it into her. Once in I found I could curl my tongue and lick inside her. It was different but certainly not unpleasant. I could hear her moans. I decided to vary things a bit and ran my tongue up her slit as far as I could passing over her clit. She moaned and arched her back nearly breaking my nose with her pubic bone. That was not fun. I lifted my head and said, "Ow, that hurt."
She responded, "Oh God, please don’t stop now master. Hold my hips down but please do that again."
Well, I enjoyed driving her over the edge and she certainly was responding to this so I put my hands on her hips leaned my weight forward to pin her to the bed and resumed. It took only a few minutes for her begging to turn to inarticulate gasps and moans. She did buck when I lapped at her clit but with my weight on her hips I was able to ride it out. Towards the end I pushed my lips over and around her clit and lapped rapidly at it with my tongue. She exploded under me and I noted the difference in taste between her lubrication and her cum. I sat back up and watched. She was so beautiful when she was cumming. She seemed to leave her body and exist in a different world.
Of course, by this time I was very hard and needy so I slipped into her more or less in the missionary position. I leaned down to kiss her and she pressed her lips to mine as passionately as I have ever been kissed. I could feel her pussy spasming around me as I began the familiar rhythm and soon exploded into her (or at least into the condom).
It was while I was screwing Barbara that I realized I had something in my mouth. Not enough of an annoyance to interrupt and withdraw from the hot wet vise of her pussy, but enough so that when it was over I was annoyed. You guessed it, pubic hair caught in my teeth. Well, something had to be done about this. I rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom where I removed and flushed the condom. Then I hunted around until I found some scissors and a wash rag which I wet with warm water.
I went back to the bed and cleaned up her groin making certain that her pubic hair was fully damp. Then taking a grip on a few hairs I pulled gently up and snipped them off.
"What the hell are you doing?" asked Barbara who couldn’t really see her crotch from her bound position but who felt the tugging as I worked methodically at removing her pubic hair.
I looked at her, raised an eyebrow and said, "I beg your pardon?"
She gasped as she realized that her words and tone had not been properly submissive and in a much more subdued tone asked, "Excuse me sir, but what are you doing?"
I smiled and said, "I think we both enjoyed eating you out but I didn’t like getting hair in my teeth. I am going to cut off every last hair so that I can lick and lap just as long as it pleases me."
Oh, she objected, respectfully. But once I had given her the choice of being brought to orgasm with no hair or of having hair but no orgasms, she agreed that hair removal was definitely called for. I don’t know why but neither one of us thought of shaving her that day. I just clipped the hair as short as I could. When I went back down on her there was stubble, of course, but it was short enough that it didn’t get caught in my teeth.
I spent the rest of the afternoon bringing her to the edge of orgasm and then backing down. It drove the poor woman mad with lust and she begged most piteously. Eventually it was time for me to leave so I latched on to her clitoris and licked and sucked. She came strongly but this time I hung on and kept licking and sucking on her little bud. It seemed to drive her orgasm on and on.
I got dressed and retrieved my belt. That left her free to eventually bring her hands down and attack the knots with her teeth and free herself. Just at the moment she couldn’t seem to find the energy.
Things went on very well for the next month and a half. The next Tuesday I found that Barbara had shaved her pubic area as an inducement to more oral sex. I didn’t mind a bit and she kept it that way for me. She also had some very attractive lingerie which she wore on Tuesdays and we experimented with all sorts of positions and ties. I became quite expert at binding a woman.
Then one day she got a notice from the Department of Defense (Talk about PC! What was wrong with the War Department?) saying that John, her husband, was wounded. He was expected to recover fully but would have a period of convalescence at a military hospital. She was going to move to be near him and our idyllic summer was at an end.
I will never forget that marvelous woman who brought me from boy to man, taught me about sex and pleasing my partner and, more than that, discovered with me the joys of a master and submissive relationship. Her training has stood me in good stead during the years. I never saw her after that summer but I hope she had a wonderful life. I know that, in no small part due to her generous and adventurous spirit, I have.