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Archive-name: Bondage/hosebond.txt

Archive-author: 

Archive-title: Hose Bound





One leg at a time, I eased out of the pantyhose and dropped them

on the bed. He picked them up, stretched them a few times, and

said "I'll bet these would make pretty decent ropes."



There was a strange note in his voice that I'd never heard

before. I continued to undress, dropping my bra to the floor, and

answered carefully, "Probably. After all, don't stranglers use

them?"



He stretched one nylon leg over his hand and stood behind me. He

didn't say anything, just nibbled on my neck and ran the silky

yet rough nylon across my nipples. They shriveled into erect

knobs almost instantly. I reached my arms back, knotted my

fingers in his hair.



"Why do you ask?"



"Ask what," he said, trying to sound innocent.



"About ropes."



"Oh, just thinking." He sounded distracted, probably because his

teeth were idly scraping the underside of my chin and his

nylon-sheathed hands were lightly stroking my thighs. "I was kind

of wondering if maybe you might enjoy not having as much control

as usual.... "



The sexual tiger that lurks just below the surface of my

conservative personality growled. The idea was... intriguing



"You know," he went on, "not being able to pull away because you

aren't ready to come yet, not being able to grab my hips and

drive me into you..."



His voice was a low murmur, accompanied by more gentle caresses

along my inner thighs, always carefully avoiding my pubic mound,

more light nips along my neck. I couldn't tell whether my arousal

came from his touch or his suggestion, but I didn't care. I felt

his erection rising through my panties and his jeans, and backed

him against the wall, pressing myself against him.



"So, what did you have in mind?" The soft purr of my voice

matched his quiet tones. He explained, briefly, then cut the legs

out of the pantyhose with scissors. At his request, no, at his

command--my agreement deprived me of the right to refuse him--I

knelt, knees spread and feet touching behind me. Improvising due

to the lack of headboard on a futon, he tied my feet securely

together with one leg, then instructed me to lean back and grab

my ankles with my hands. The second leg lashed my hands in place.

I tugged at the bonds experimentally. I could move, but not much.

There was no way I could avoid his touch, short of rolling onto

my stomach. With my knees open wide and my back arched, my body

was completely accessible to him.



One hand massaged my clitoris through the soaking wet cotton

panties. The other circled my nipples, gently pinching and

pulling them. I groaned and tried to thrust my clitoris up to

meet his hand, but he only pulled away. I twisted and writhed

toward him anyway. He glared at me sternly and pushed me away.



He laid the cold scissors against my thigh and slid the blade up,

under the panties. Snip. Again on the other side. He pulled the

cloth across my clitoris and away. I was completely naked,

completely helpless, and quivering from arousal.



Continuing to stroke and squeeze my breasts, he used the other

hand to unzip his jeans and free his erection from the black

briefs. His tongue and teeth replaced his hand as he stepped out

of his clothing. In one motion he bit one nipple, pinched the

other, and shoved two fingers into my vagina. I gasped and jerked

against the restraints.



"Just testing the knots," he grinned. Withdrawing the two

fingers, he coated his penis with fluid and then shoved the

fingers between my half-parted lips. While I licked my taste off

of him, he rubbed his penis between my legs. Not penetrating, or

even offering to penetrate, just stroking my clitoris and labia

with his hot, moist hardness. I squirmed, trying to pull him

inside of me. He pulled away, a little, but continued his slow,

agonizing strokes. His hands moved down to my breasts again,

stroking, twisting, pinching. I gasped, and groaned and squirmed

but the patient strokes continued. I begged him to enter me, and

he snapped at me to be silent.



He dragged his penis, dripping with my juices, across my belly

and between my breasts. I took him eagerly into my mouth, but he

twisted his fingers into my hair and pulled my head away. "Not

yet. Kiss it. Worship it." I complied, running my tongue over the

glans, down the shaft, over his testicles. I heard his sharp

intake of breath. One hand played with my vagina while I licked

and sucked and wished I could use my hands to pleasure him.



After a while, he lifted himself away from my face and lowered

his head between my legs. I cried out at the touch of his tongue.

He snarled, "I'm done with your mouth, and you can't keep it

shut, so..."



The remains of my panties became a gag. As an afterthought, the

bedside towel became a blindfold. Unable to see what he was

doing, I focussed my attention on his touch, on his flicking

tongue torturing my clitoris and labia. Relentless, he drove me

to the brink of orgasm, and pulled away. His tongue and hands

caressed my thighs, my breasts, everywhere except where I needed

to feel him. My every muscle quivered, not knowing where his

touch would fall next.



Finally, I felt his penis again. He inserted just the head into

me, slowly stroking in and out. Each stroke went a little deeper,

a little faster, until he was pounding himself deep into me,

groaning with each stroke. Deprived of vocal release, unable to

wrap my arms or my legs around him, I could only thrust myself up

to meet him, grind my pelvis into his. Unable to see, I could

only lose myself in the throbbing rythm of his lust.



He pulled the gag out of my mouth. "Let me hear you," he gasped.

The strokes slowed, though controlling himself must have been

nearly impossible. "Tell me why I shouldn't stop. Tell me what

you'll do for me if I finish."



I would have sold my soul for release. I pleaded with him, I

shamelessly begged him to fuck me. He pulled himself out of me

and teased my pulsating cunt with his head. I told him I'd do

whatever he wanted, be his whore, be his slave. He pinched my

nipples, hard. "Details, bitch!" I gave him details. I promised

him every fantasy I could imagine, every fantasy he'd ever

mentioned, the words spilling out in a desperate stream.



In the middle of the flow of words, he drove himself into me. A

few hard, deep strokes, and I stopped babbling and began to moan.

Each stroke brought a corresponding spasm from my body and a

corresponding gasping groan from my lips. When the orgasm finally

came, it came in waves, and I screamed and writhed and pleaded

for more.



He rolled onto his back, taking me with him, and cut my hands and

legs free. Still overwhelmed by waves of pleasure, I wrapped arms

and legs around him and held on for dear life as he pounded to

his own climax. As he finished, I came again, spasming muscles

milking him for the last drop of sperm.



It was a long time before either of us moved.



--



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