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Chapter 10
BRIDGET
Past
My ass stings, but the discomfort takes second place—as does the discomfort of having my arms pinioned behind me, or the awkwardness of being bent over the arm of the sofa—to the intense desire stoked by Darren.
“Can I come?” I ask even before he starts pounding his fingers into me.
“Come good,” he answers
Happily, I fixate on the delicious tension coiled inside me. It springs like crazy through me. Darren pins me down so I don’t accidentally buck myself off the sofa. Shudders wrack my body, leaving me throbbing between the legs.
Darren wipes his fingers on one butt cheek. I hear him unbuckling his belt as he stands behind me. Being bound in rope is both alarming and erotic. There’s an artistry I didn’t expect to find in the rope, but I’m not completely at ease. If I rolled off the sofa, I wouldn’t have my hands to help break the fall. I can’t protect myself, so I’m placing a lot of trust in Darren. I also don’t get to do anything to him, though right now I’m content to have half my body resting on the sofa.
Darren rubs his cock between my thighs before pressing into me. I love the way he fills me. It’s better than any hand job or cunnilingus. His pelvis smacks into my still-sensitive derriere. Having come exquisitely already, I don’t necessarily expect to come again. But the arousal hasn’t completely dissipated, and I find the yearning between my legs returns.
“Am I allowed to come again?” I ask.
“You better,” he replies.
He grabs the rope at my back, holding my body in place as he thrusts harder. I close my eyes and relish the sensation of his body rubbing, smacking, driving into mine. The craving intensifies even greater than before. I wait impatiently to be hurled into the sea of rapture. I can see it coming like a wave about to crash down on me.
“Ohmigod, ohmigod,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
My orgasm bursts through me. I cry out loudly as Darren continues to buck against me, pounding me into the sofa while I drown in ecstasy.
When I surface again, Darren has slowed his motions and withdraws. I hear him zip his pants and redo his belt. He pulls me to my feet and begins to unwind the rope.
“So far, so good?” he asks.
“Very good,” I murmur.
“Would you do it again?”
I nod.
After removing the rope, he commands, “Lie down on the table.”
“We’re not done?”
He snorts. “Lie down.”
After I comply, he ties my wrists and ankles to the legs of the table, pulling a limb to each corner. He looks over my body and runs a hand over my smooth skin, groping a breast, caressing my belly, grasping a thigh. He rubs the moist flesh between my legs.
“We’re going to try a different impact toy for your front,” he tells me.
I watch him go to the cabinet and return with a slender stick and a cordless vibrator.
“This is a cane,” he explains, rapping the point lightly on the top of a thigh. “The magic wand, you already know.”
I don’t think I’m going to like the cane as much as the flogger. He taps the cane on my belly, then against the side of my breast. I start to get a little nervous.
“Long, slow breaths,” he says. “Breathing short and shallow can increase your anxiety.”
I do as he suggests. After several breaths, he lands the cane against my thigh, hard.
“Ow!” I exclaim.
