Sometimes, I just want to melt.
gasp
Usually, I am really good at wriggling out of stuff. I’m fairly flexible and I have very little hands, which makes for relatively quick escapes from even the most ornate arrangements.
So, when I asked Craftsmate to tie me up and make escape as close to impossible as he could, I was still expecting to be able to get out in time to have lunch in an hour.
“Now, don’t go easy on me,” I chided.
That morning, Craftsmate heeded my request tenfold. He tied my wrists together with rope, ran one cuff through the rope, and tied the other off to the bedpost. He wrapped my arms, at the forearm and elbow, in duct tape. He tied my ankles together with rope and anchored it to the foot of the bed with a line of zip ties, which he seemed to delight in pulling tight until my body was stretched taut over the bed. He taped my vibrator against my clit and proceeded to loop my thighs in tape to prevent me from removing the vibrator. He then covered the knots in the ropes that held my wrists and ankles with tape and looped my hands in it until they were reduced to useless little fists. Finally, he blindfolded me and strapped on my ballgag before taping over it.
While I did manage to get the gag out of my mouth and shake the blindfold off, no amount of squirming could loosen any of the ropes or dislocate the tape. Although I had cleverly gotten Craftsmate to give me some water, which I proceeded to spit out onto the tape holding my forearms to loosen its hold, its removal made close to no difference.
What’s more, the vibrator on my clit was doing its job at keeping me distracted. I found I could not manage more than twenty minutes without having to stop struggling and just enjoy the feeling of it.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Craftsmate would say with a smirk. “that’s right. You just take a little break.”
When I managed to get the tape off of my fists, Craftsmate only turned the vibrator onto high to make my task more difficult.
“Why don’t you just relax?” He asked, “you know you can’t get out. Why don’t you just enjoy this and endure the consequences of begging me to let you out?”
I was stubborn. Needless to say, I missed lunch and almost three hours later I finally begged him to let me go. In exchange, I have to allow Craftsmate to do this again.
Only next time, he says, he knows a few ways to make it “better.”
Gingerrkitten
I know Ms. Ellie/belliehops isn’t always too enthused when the porn/sex blogs of tumblr reblog her but I hope she’ll forgive me because oh my gracious.
Gasp – Ellie
shot by Allan Fredrick
What is this and can I live there?
“Why are you so cruel?”
It’s something that she asks from time to time, though the circumstances often vary. Sometimes, it’s in a vaguely smug sort of way. Sometimes it’s a whine. Or through tears. Or under a moan.
His answer, however, is always the same.
“Because you wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Fear is an incredibly powerful aphrodisiac.
That means you don’t have to approach every encounter with genuine excitement and assuredness. Sometimes it’s good to be reticent, afraid. So long as you’ve consented and you trust anyone involved, being frightened of what is to come can be just fine. In fact, you might even enjoy it.
With a lot of the female libido being dependent on anticipation, build-up, words, foreplay, preludes to the main event than the actual finalized actions, naturally fear is a great tool when wielded correctly. It’s just another suspension of time, another little subplot on the way to the climax.
Sometimes, I like to touch myself in the ways other people have in order to recreate those sensations. But, I never, ever can in quite the way they did. Maybe it’s like the fact that you can’t tickle yourself. I can recreate the motion, but I will never, ever fully recreate the feeling. It takes two to tango.