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.
"Oh, just thinking." He sounded distracted, probably because his teeth were idly scr****g 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.