Welcome to another episode of Bedtime Stories with Salty Vixen. Tonight’s story is titled “Calling Out Your Name, Control Me Baby”. Do you know I am easily aroused by you? I want to put my mouth on you in so many places, sweetie. I want to spread wide for you, allowing you in, taking you in and then I wrap myself around you, serpent like. We fuse as one, searing each other with each other. I want more and need more. Fuck, the very thought of you doing these things to me has me wet with desire.
I want you to fuck me, hard, will you, sweetie? Let’s begin…
I told you that I have a fantasy of being restraint by you. It was when I said "Fuck, yes.. oh fuck, God, don't stop!" repeatedly, when we were fucking last night, that you realized how much I wanted that last vestige of control to be stripped away. It was when I confessed to you in a text that I had to change my black lace panties – because the thought of you bringing four lengths of cotton rope with you to bind me to the bed by my wrists and ankles had left me saturated in my sweet juices –And tonight is going to be the night of you taming my sexual desires as you are the only one who can control me and knowing that arouses you.
You took the restraint out the closet. It is a fashionable cool, black leather. The collar is three inches high; that is sufficient to make me lift my chin imperiously as you lock it in place on my beautiful neck. The strap that runs down the center of my back is thinner, its purpose merely to provide a suitable anchor for the two cuffs below that you fastened about my wrists. The cuffs will keep my forearms at right angles to the line of my body. Once all three of the small, brass padlocks have snapped shut, you smile wickedly at me. I am now helpless and aroused by all of this. fuck. I. am. Wet.
You kiss me slowly, intensely, softly and passionately, until we are both panting with animal desire. You won’t let me to touch you, though. Not yet. That is to be saved until later. Instead, standing behind me, you place a folded silk scarf across my eyes and knotted it amongst my lavish tresses. Then, cloaked in my own private darkness, you take me towards the center of the bed room, and I hear the first of two distinctive noises: the swish of the heavy curtains being drawn apart, unveiling the floor-to-ceiling windows.
You walk over to undress me.
You take your time, removing each layer carefully. I hear you folding each garment, draping it over the back of the room’s solitary chair. I feel your fingers brush your body as you peel away my lacy lingerie, the warmth of your form radiating against me as you stand inches away, the ragged whisper of your breath against my skin. And throughout, I understand that my disrobing might be seen by any number of licentious voyeurs – knowledge that both torture and tantalize me. It might be difficult for me to discern where my foreboding ends and my fever begins. I can’t stop myself quivering in anticipation.
I am fully naked except for my gleaming stilettos, I hear the second of those distinctive noises: the slow unzipping of the leather bag you took out of your closet.
Fuck- I moan. "What is in there?"
"Wait" You said.
Bound in hide, sealed in darkness, you guide me to the king-size bed, and instruct me to kneel down upon the firm-yet-yielding mattress. You take me by the shoulders and press my upper body gently down, until my forehead rests against the welcoming bedspread.
Head bowed, my ass raised, I wait, knowing that the gaze of you, my lover and the night world that lies beyond the tall glass are likely transfixed by the sight of my helpless, naked form. I listen to the sounds of you disrobing somewhere behind me …I hear you approach and sense you close by, feeling your strong hands settle upon my sexy ass. I feel the pads of your fingers drawing abstract patterns over my skin, feel your nails draw parallels of fire across my nerve endings. I feel you crouch behind me, and as you do, you will ease my checks apart, opening my sex to your rapacious gaze.
I feel your tongue lapping at the backs of my thighs … painting glistening lines across the womanly curves of my behind … and all the time, circling closer and closer to the center of my fire as your strong hands mould my yielding flesh to your grasp.
"Sweetie, Don’t tease me. Go faster, faster. Let me feel your tongue on my clit. Let me have you plunging it inside me, fucking me with it. Oh, let me tremble and come against your mouth. But don’t tease me. Don’t make me wait. Please. And yet … I ache for you to make me wait; yearn for you to continue your patient exploration of my flesh, of my burning desire …” I say to you.
You stop for a second and put a finger to my lips and say “don’t talk.” I moan.. the flames being coaxed higher, hotter, with every second.
I need you to extinguish them….
I test the strength of the leather restraining me. My rational mind knows that it’s pointless, but I do it anyway, because it’s my nature not to surrender without a fight, even when I want to lose.
The straps don’t offer the merest hint of yielding to my strength.
You pauses, move away from me. Something cool and damp, slightly sticky in its consistency, is smeared against my anus. I shudder, knowing what is to come. I have teased you with the promise of this illicit game, and now I am about to play; helpless to stop you, too far gone – if I am honest with myself – to even consider saying no.
The first of the beads – metal, given its chill weight and firmness – kisses the rosebud’s seal. Gradually, it’s pressed against my flesh, and then I feel myself starting to yield before it. The sensation is alien, slightly disconcerting … and yet … there is some minor pleasure at the stimulus, but what affects me most is the excitement at being taken somewhere new, somewhere previously forbidden.
The bead passes through the twin rings of muscle. You stroke my ass, kissing the backs of my thighs. The second bead nuzzles at my rosebud. Again, there is that vague mixture of discomfort and pleasure, underscored by the thrill of the taboo, as it’s pressed inside me. After each bead, you speak a few seconds caressing my body, allowing me to become accustomed to the intrusion, to the experience.
Inside me, the beads feel neither good nor bad; but knowing they are there … that thrills me oh-so-fucking much.
You ease my thighs apart and your tongue suddenly rakes my sodden cleft. I cry out into the bed, smearing my lips against the softness. I want your hard cock was before me now, ready to slip inside my mouth. I can almost taste the warm musk of your flesh, the salty-sweetness of your precum. Your tongue travels the valley of my cunt again, more slowly this time, so I have the chance to measure every millimeter of your exploration. It’s difficult given my position, but I try to force myself back against your mouth. Your fingers sink gently into the plumpness of my labia, and I feel you drawing me open, feel your warm breath against the pink tenderness of my sex. For a time, the tip of your tongue traces the very edges of my pussy, and then it slips inside me, I moan, pressing deep, firmly, into the silken flesh. You grip my waist and pull me back towards you so that I can’t escape.
Then – somehow – your face is underneath me, and You are pulling my loins down to meet your clever, greedy mouth. Your tongue flickers against the growing pearl of my clitoris, and I bite down hard on the bedspread to soften the cries of pleasure. Feels so fucking good, sweetie. As you lick me, you slip two fingers deep into my wetness, fucking me in accompaniment to the dancing of your tongue.
My body is awash with pleasure. The memory of all the days and weeks and months of waiting and fantasizing … it’s just a shadow, now: short-lived and powerless. My ache for fulfillment was consuming, at times almost too much to bear … and yet now … now, the pain and the hunger are gone. Obliterated. Finally.
The realization of my wantonness means that little time passes before your flickering tongue and thrusting fingers have me quivering on the brink of my first climax. As I start to cum, you reach upwards, over the curve of my hip. At once, there’s a new tension inside me, the sensation of something hard and smooth pulling insistently against the inside of my sphincter. As the bead is drawn through both rings of muscle, I shiver deliciously, and the waves of my orgasm increase their height. I can’t stop myself from turning my face to one side and letting the room – and your neighbors, perhaps – hear my delight.
One by one, the beads are drawn from me; each time one slips from my flesh, its passage triggers a minor explosion of ecstasy that prolongs the intensity of my climax. When the last of the beads has been freed, I am panting, sobbing against the bed.
You move again, slipping from beneath my loins, moving to stand behind me. One hand cups the left side of my waist, your fingers curling around to clutch at the softness of my abdomen. The unmistakable sensation of the tip of your cock being drawn down through my cleft rips my breath away again as I have barely begun to reclaim it.
“Yes,” I gasp, as you draw the tip of your cock up and down the sodden chink in my loins.
Deprived of sight, I focus in on the sound of your flesh moving wetly within me. “Yes. Oh yes.” When you ease your full length inside me in one, flowing impulse, it’s as though someone has fired off a flash within the blackness of your blindfold.
The after image lingers before my eyes as you begin to fuck me. Your warm, strong hands seize me about my waist, forcing me back to meet each thrust, just like you did when you fucked me with your tongue. It feels exquisite when your thick shaft is embedded to the hilt within me, so much so that there’s a bitter moment of regret when you withdraw, when you ease yourself back until only the very tip of your cockhead still touches my sex.
Then you thrust back into me….
In the darkness that you fashioned for me, it’s easy to lose myself in the reciprocal rhythms of my lust. My cunt measures the advance and retreat of your cock like some shameless scientist, gripping at your prick, reluctant to accede to its recoil, grasping in its welcoming of your return. The oiled friction of your thrusts soothes and satisfies and startles all at once. The unmistakable aroma of fucking fills my nostrils and I welcome it like an old friend.
I don’t know how long you fucks me before your control of pace starts to fray, before your strokes begin to lose their sinuous smoothness. By then, you have fucked me to another orgasm, the fingers of one hand strumming my clitoris as you plunge your cock into my depths. Your free hand cups one of my swinging breasts, and I bite down hard on my bottom lip when you pull upon the stiff nipple, when you roll its thickness between my fingers and thumb.
I can sense your body tautening behind me; I can feel it in your hands, in your loins, most of all in your cock. Your length twitches inside my velvet sheath, and you draw back with a gasp that would sound like agony to the unaccustomed. A man at the point of no return. For a moment, I fear that you intend to part your flesh from mine, to spurt your seed across the cheeks of my ass, along the shallow curve of my spine. But then you drive back into me, hard enough to force a shameless cry of triumph from between my lips, and as your shaft throbs and pulses inside me, as I feel the flood of warm semen within my most sacred flesh,I cum again.
Spent, I collapse forward upon the crumpled bed. You come with me, your cock still embedded within my flesh. Tenderly, you kiss my ear, then my neck above the edge of the leather collar. Your fingers busy themselves with the trio of padlocks, and soon you are peeling the leather harness away from my body, freeing me, returning my control.
I barely hear you when you whisper into my ear, “Enjoy, sweetie?”
I moan , “yesss”
