Archive-name: Bondage/longest.txt

Archive-author: 

Archive-title: Longest Time, The





I have wanted to do this for the longest time.



In my bag I have four lengths of fabric--oh, and a darker one, for

your eyes.  Could I simply darken the room?  I could, but I want to

watch you, watch the responses of your body and your face.  I want to

see how I affect you.  I want to watch you as I move above you.



Yes.  Take off your clothes.  Do you know what I have planned?  Have you

know all along?  You must have known; as I said, I've wanted this for a

long time, even told you so.  Until now, I've felt the slightest timidity,

but I think I can overcome that.  Some things are a bit more powerful

than average, everyday shyness.



Take off your clothes, then, and lie down on the bed.  Slowly--I want

to watch you, darling.  As you pull your shirt over your head, I see the

smooth skin of your chest and the pinkness of your nipples.  As always,

I am gripped by the urge to touch that smoothness, that pinkness, and

to hear the breath catch in your throat.  But not yet.  For now I am

only watching, directing you, instructing you in what you must do.



Must do?



Yes.  Must.  You tease me sometimes, tell me that I should be more

dominating.  As you wish, my love.



Take off your shorts, now.  You bend over to push them aside and your

hair comes down over your shoulders, covering your face from my view.

But you are probably smiling, yes, I think you're smiling.  You push

them down and straighten, kicking them off.  As you stand I am struck

once again by the power of your beauty, and the ridiculous feeling of

weakness that takes me as I look at you, naked before me.  The novelty

of being at my command has intrigued you; I can see that much with the

stiffening of your cock as you stand, being watched.  Being consumed.

I want you all.



And, oh, I want to touch you.  But I won't.  I won't.  Not yet.  I want

to tease you, tease myself.  Better to turn my head away and allow you

to arrange yourself before I give in to the compelling urge to feel that

flawless, pale skin under my hands.



Lie down.  No compromise in my tone as I tell you this.  You are indeed

at my command, since you offer no protest, no questioning look.  You lie

down on the bed, glancing at me, wondering how to orient yourself to

suit me best.



I like this attitude.  You realize that I am in charge.  I tell you to

lie on your back, with your arms and legs spread out.  I wonder if this

can be comfortable for you, and you are quick to assure me that it is.

You seem a bit eager.



Eagerness?  Oh, no, that won't do at all.  Instructing you to remain

still, I retrieve the lengths of fabric and the blindfold, making sure

that it is clear to you what I plan to do.  Arms first, I think.  I tie

one end of the fabric to your arm, and the other to the bedframe down

at your sides.  Just enough tension, now.  No motion and no discomfort.

Perhaps I am not harsh enough--in taking my pleasure I want to provide

yours.



I tie first one arm, and then the other.  I am careful to touch you as

little as possible.  That will come later.  I arrange your legs to be

tied, bent slightly at the knee and spread apart.  One end around the

ankle, the other around the bedframe as before.



Secure.  I step back to survey my handiwork.  What a clever craftswoman

I am!  You lie there on the bed, watching me, perfectly arranged.

What a nice picture you would make.



Does being so helpless, so much at my mercy, distress you?  I don't

think so.  Your body tells me that you are entirely comfortable with

the situation.  But do I want you to be comfortable?  I do like to keep

you just a bit off-balance, my dear--



So I retrieve the blindfold, once again assuring that you know my

intentions before I begin to fasten it around your eyes.  Your face takes

on an expression of disappointment, but you are wise enough not to offer

any verbal complaint.  I take your slight grimace as a compliment.



I would want to watch if I were in your place.



After tying the cloth around your eyes and assuring myself that you

cannot see me, I allow myself the indulgence of touching your face, the

face that I love to watch in all its moods--amusement, concentration,

sincerity, and, now, the smallest hint of frustration.



Just as I had planned.



I begin to speak softly to you.  Does the sound of my voice speaking

of such things excite you?  The blindfold allows you to listen without

distraction to the things I say to you, and I hope my words are eliciting

some vivid images for you to consider.



"Do you know how deliciously vulnerable you are right now, darling?

Your whole body is fair game, you know.  Perhaps I could begin with my

usual, gradual approach, kissing your mouth as I draw my hands down over

your collarbone and down onto your chest, brushing over your nipples

with my fingers.  Squeezing them gently between my fingers as I rub my

cheek against the smoothness of yours.



"But what if I tried something different?  I could move straight to

your nipples with my mouth, closing my lips around one, then the other,

a more direct approach.  Teasing you with my tongue, sucking gently,

then harder, or lightly nipping at you with my teeth.  Touching them

with the lightest of touches, brushing them back and forth over the

wetness that my mouth has left there.



"Plenty of options here, really.  What if I were to take your cock in

my hands first, feeling the velvety skin there as I gripped you, feeling

the way your body would jerk in surprise as I stroked the sensitive head

with my fingertips.  I could wrap my hands around you and stroke you,

gently, as I've watched you do it.



"Or--and I am partial to this method--I could simply take you in my mouth.

I'd like to feel you resting on my tongue, tighten my lips around you,

and move as I know you'd want me to, taking you deep into my mouth and

sucking as I advanced and withdrew."



But these are just ideas, and perhaps I won't even voice them.  I have

a suspicion that you are already considering them as I watch you.

I like to think that I understand most of your desires.  I know that I

am willing to gratify them--



But now you will gratify mine.  I begin to undress, describing the

process to you as I do so.  First my shirt, over my head, the fabric

brushing against my nipples as I remove it, exciting me.  My shorts,

now, then my panties, which have already become slightly damp simply

from the sight of you and from the thoughts I have been entertaining.



You can't see me as I stand here above you, naked and eager for your

touch.  The thought excites me even more, and I begin to taunt you a bit.

"My whole body is ready for you," I tell you softly, "but you aren't in

much of a position to help.  It's really too bad."  I tell you how my

nipples are hard already, as I think about the feel of your tongue and

your lips as you kiss them.  I tell you about the deep ache that has

begun between my legs as I think about the firm,

 gentle touch of your fingers.  I tell you about the warmth and the

 wetness of

my cunt as I imagine the feel of your cock as you enter me at first,

that fine first feeling of being spread wide apart.



And what a wicked girl I am!  I delight in knowing that you are becoming

more and more frustrated as I speak to you, telling you all about how

willing and ready I am--I delight in hearing the breath come faster and

in watching the slight unconscious movement of your hips.



As if in apology for my glee at seeing you so helpless, I bend to kiss

you, careful to keep my body from touching yours.  I kiss your cheek

and you turn your head to catch my mouth with your own.  A breach of

discipline, yes, but not a serious one, and one I reproach only by seeking

the other cheek and not your mouth that waits for the attention of mine.

I take your face in my hands and hold you still, gently, for that seems

to be necessary.  I bend and kiss you r lips, stroking your face as my

tongue seeks yours.  You seem to understand that I am in charge, that

you are not to be the aggressor tonight.  You return my kiss, but with

a docility that is unusual in you.



I like it.  I believe I may be developing a taste for control.



I kiss down your neck, not the lingering, trailing kisses that are my

preference , but deep, random kisses that leave some doubt as to where

the next will fall.  I choose each spot carefully, deliberately.  I want

you to understand that you are an important subject, one to be studied

with some concentration.  As if by accident, I allow my breasts to press

against you briefly, moving away after only a few seconds of contact.



Then my hands move down from the softness of your cheeks to your chest, to

grasp your nipples suddenly.  The unexpected firmess of my touch surprises

you, and you whimper softly.  Was that a protest?  Am I hurting you?

Oh, no.  I know the way to touch you.  My lips form a kiss at the base of

your throat as my fingers stroke you more tenderly, just my fingertips

across the hardened pink points.  I trail my tongue down the hollow of

your throat and down your chest, and bring my mouth down onto your right

nipple first, the less sensitive one.  I tease you with my tongue, still

touching you with my fingers on your other side, moving one in concert

with the other.  I flutter the tip with my tongue as I rub you swiftly

and lightly with my fingers.  Then, an abrupt change as I switch sides.

The wetness under my fingertip seems to excite you as I take your left

nipple in my mouth.  As I begin to suck you, I squeeze you with my

fingers and I feel the movement of your hips.



Now, you know you are not allowed to move.  I didn't say so, but I

shouldn't have had to.  I move away from you.  "Don't move," I command,

and your motion stops.



And I look at you, the long, extended boy stretched out there on the bed.

I take in the slight flush of arousal across your chest, the nipples

that are a deeper pink than usual, and the stiff cock that juts out and

demands attention.



I  haven't touched you there yet.  Shall I now?  Shall I take you in my

hands and stroke you, feeling the drop of wetness that has formed at

the tip, then extend my tongue to lick you?  Shall I draw the head of

your cock across my tongue, hard, causing your breath to come fast and

the wordless sounds to form in your throat?  Shall I take you in as far

as I can, allowing your cock to approach the back of my throat?



Oh, not yet.  No, not yet.



I bend to remove the blindfold from your eyes, and you blink at

the brightness.  Your eyes meet mine and I see that you are enjoying

this little game, though your eagerness to have it over is apparent.

You want to be inside me, I think.



Oh, not yet.



I stand in front of you and bring my hands down my body, touching

myself as you might if you were able.  Down over my breasts, but not

yet lingering there, and down my hips, over my thighs.  Back to my

breasts, now, rubbing my nipples with my palms.  I have wanted your

touch there, but my own will do for now.  I tease myself with my fingers,

touching myself as I had touched you a moment before, very lightly with

my fingertips.  I squeeze my nipples gently, cupping first one breast,

then the other, as you watch me.



Wouldn't you rather be touching me now?



I play with my nipples for a long time, imagining your hands on my body,

simulating your touch.  I lick my fingertips so I can imagine that your

mouth is there--



It isn't a perfect substitute, but it is enough, more than enough, to

intensify the feeling of heaviness between my legs.  I hope you won't

mind; I think I should sit down for this.



I arrange myself between your legs that have been spread wide so you

can watch me, placing my legs across yours and tilting my hips up.

I reach down and, with a single finger, trace along the outer lips of

my cunt, touching myself as lightly as I can bear to, enjoying the warm

feeling that begins to spread.  Then I begin stroking the slick inner

recesses-- I surprise myself by the heat there, and by the way my touch

makes me tremble.



Part of that is knowing that you're watching me.  No blindfold allowed

for this.



I use my fingers to spread some of my moisture up to my clit, which is

swollen and stiff with excitement.  I am still toying with my nipples,

first one, then the other, as I stroke myself with one finger.  As the

pressure builds, I force myself to stop, though it is almost impossible--

I am about to come, and, oh, I want to, but I also want to save that

for you.  In appreciation for being such an entertaining plaything.



I still haven't touched your cock, and looking at you reminds me how much

I'd like to.  I arrange myself so that I am kneeling between your legs,

and I take you in my mouth.  The direct approach, you see.



And you know I love to lick you, to tease you, to hear the sounds you

make as I excite you further.  I take you in my mouth as deeply as I can,

guiding you in with my hands that are still wet with my own moisture.

I feel your body move as I fuck you with my mouth, pausing occasionally

to draw my tongue over the head, to grasp you with my hands, or to stroke

down behind your balls.



I won't make you come, not this way, but it is delicious to have this

kind of power over you.  The power to please, or the power to torment.

I prefer to please and to torment, I think.



Abruptly I let you slide from my mouth, just as I know your excitement

is building.  I move up between your legs to take one of your nipples in

my mouth again.  Your cock brushes against the valley between my breasts,

and my nipples are stimulated by the feel of the coarse, curly hair there.



You are ready for me, I know, and I am almost ready for you.  I straddle

you and lower myself so that your cock is situated not inside me but

along my cunt, so I can use you as I please.  I guide you with my hands,

stroking my clit with the tip of your cock, moving my hips so that I can

feel the entire length of you.  I move back and forth, exciting myself

almost to orgasm again, until I realize that you are moving with me.



You're ready.  You are, and so am I.  But one last thing--



Ignoring your sigh of disappointment, I move myself up so that your mouth

can meet me with ease.  You know what is expected of you, and you seize

the opportunity, licking me and forcing your tongue into me as I caress

my breasts again.  I imagine that you can taste me, and I wonder vaguely

whether you like it, but it is difficult to concentrate on any coherent

thoughts as you begin to suck on my clit.



Oh, and I know I have to move soon, because I don't want to come until

you're inside me.  You know that sometimes I move away after I've come,

because the pleasure is simply too intense.  This time, though, I retreat

beforehand, and it is pure torture.



I don't care about being in charge anymore--I have to get you inside me.



I resume my position of earlier and come down hard upon you.  As soon

as you are within me I begin to come.  Can't help it.  I've been ready

for a long time, now.  I'm not moving yet.  Just the feel of your cock,

hard and solid, is enough.



You're smiling at me.  I'm not sure I like the smugness of that smile, my

love.  As soon as the last tremors of my orgasm subside, I move away from

you, slowly, and let your cock slide out of me.  Your look of deprivation

assures me that you have been adequately reminded who is on top.



Good.  Such reminders can be neccessary sometimes.



But I have to smile at your eagerness, an eagerness that I share.  I take

you inside me again, feeling you deep, moving slowly, agonizingly slowly,

onto and off of your cock.  I move as you would want me to, because now

I am concerned not so much with controlling you as pleasing you.



And usually your hands would come to my hips, guiding me, moderating

the speed of my motions.  I retain some control, then, as I fuck you,

placing my hands on your chest to caress your skin.  Your hips are coming

up to meet mine, and I make no protest.  It's time.



The feeling of pressure begins to build inside me again as you move with

me, and I am coming again.  Now I am the one who is helpless, because

at this moment I am lost to the feeling of release and the rocking of

your body.



After I recover somewhat, I resume my motions in earnest, and I know that

you are about to come as well.  I know the signs by now.  I increase

the attention to your chest, stroking the skin there, gently massaging

you and feeling the hardness of your nipples.  As your body stiffens

and your orgasm begins, I squeeze your nipples, hard, and I know that

I have pleased you.  I can feel your body moving, hear your breath and

your surprised gasps, and I can feel you, hot and explosive inside me.



I bend to kiss your nipples as you begin to relax.  The stiffness leaves

your body as you thrust up to meet me for a last few times, and my hands

come up to your face to caress you as I lay my body against yours for

the first time since we began.



I think you would put your arms around me if you could.  Soon.

Soon--right now I want to lie and listen to your heartbeat.  And remember

that it was I who caused this.  And remember who is in charge.



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