[M4F][cuffs][rope][pain][sex] …here’s No Hands

In the candle-light, hissing an intake of breath, your chest heaved, as warm waves of pleasure rippled out from your indigging nails, and I felt you personify absolute and undiluted desire. I could feel the heat seeping from your wet cunt, as you tried to grind away, giddy with frustration, but knowing that you were the one making my cock, so thick, and angry, and red, filling with cum.

'I want you, so… fucking… much…', you gasped, 'Just inside me, you fucker. I need you inside me…'

The frustration is even making me, growl now, as I know you're going to leave such marks. But it feels so good, like you're trying to send orders into my brain, orders that ricochet through my chest, imploring my hips to make it happen. Maybe you're simply willing my cock to transform, trying to make it follow orders. It's good that it's the weekend tomorrow, so I'll have time to heal. The pain is almost blinding, as if you want to crush my head.

But you know the deal. I'd tied a rope from bedpost to Victorian bedpost, at the bottom of the bed, and knotted it firmly, knowing it wouldnt slip, but leaving a bit of give. And then I took those cuffs, smeared biting kisses across the back of each knee, because I knew it would tickle and make you wriggle, and then snapped the first around the left ankle, looped through the rope, and then secured the right. Safely tethered, I couldnt resist the opportunity to run my hands hard, fingers digging upon your calves, slowly up your thighs, before smearing them into the cheeks of your arse, before parting them, and I already could see you glistening there, in anticipation. Straddling you, I leaned down and sank my teeth into the crease that exists between the cheek and the thigh, sucking so hard, biting down, hearing you giggle, which tailed off into a moan, turned into a gasp and then a holding of breath, as my tongue swirled, and I bit harder, knowing it's going to leave an ugly mark, knowing it's going to hurt every time you sit down, but wanting to leave a reminder of what's about to happen. Sucking even harder with a rough growl, I want to leave a bruise, a hickey, to accompany the teeth-marks, but I know too, that it's gonna rile you up. And I like riling you up, coaxing the monster from inside, because I get to feel the consequences, and such consequences are exquisite. So exquisite.

I let you loose, and you breathed again, with a moan. 'Dont be a selfish fucker. I need balance', you sighed.

I knew exactly what you meant. And I repeated the procedure on the other crease. I could tell you'd been a good girl, when I'd texted in the afternoon. 'Kitty needs perfume. Now', and you'd obviously fulfilled the instruction. The musk of you, drifting through the air, was so close to me, as I branded you again, even harder this time, growling and giddy, but musky drippingness tinged with your favourite perfume, is an olfactory love of mine. It's just so fucking irresistible.

And when I sat up, and sighed into the night, and giggled, knowing the weight of me on your ankles was making the cuffs dig in, you breathed those words. As my nails dragged so very gently, in circles, against those beautifully crafted calves.

'You're just a cuntfucker. A cuntfucker…'

And then came the reciprocation. Pushing up from the bed, you opened your legs wide, and sat back, feeling and adjusting to the limits of your restriction, fidgeting from side to side, judging the tightness of the cuffs. Feeling the stainless steel digging in a little, already feeling a little 'pins-n-needles' kicking in. I'd already measured, when you werent looking, so I kinda knew where the two of us needed to be, with this plan in mind. And a few days later, I'd casually mentioned the plan, in polite conversation. The curiosity to explore just how to fuck, but not with hands. Just looking inside ourselves, and letting loose the desires that circle unexpressed. And when that smile had broadened in response, and your eyes shone, I knew I'd sold you on the idea. No hands. Just genitals.

Fuelled by desire alone.

I handed you another pair of cuffs. (Jeez, we have so many toys in the cupboard) Some were glass, some were leather, some tight, some pain, some pleasure, some buzz, some shine, some even have a SIM card. (That one cost a lot. But it was fucking worth it). And the second half of The Deal took place, as I climbed onto the bed, and laid down, toesies pointing as my legs slid under you, you being on all fours, waiting for me, the sheer hunger evident in your eyes. Wriggling into position, I spread myself. Unveiling. I felt my thighs touching you, as you straddled me, before realising I'd chosen the exact right position, just the right toy, and then the right time. And my hands reached up behind my head. To be clipped into place.

Then… I heard a word.

'Cunt'

Click.

'Fucker'

Click.

And that's how we did it. Teased the emotions with rewards of sensation, knowing from the past, just how it could be done. You cant move. I cant move. Yet, I can feel you widen your hips to lower against me. And I'd gotten my measurements just right.

I can feel your sodden lips parting, as you fucking desperately grind. I know the cuffs hurt, as you strain against them, desperate whimpers let loose into the air. They hurt me too, as every thrust, trying to claim your prize, trying to find your prize slides against me. Wet enough, hungry enough, lustful enough, you speed up, trying to clench your hips closer and tighter, trying to find a hungry way to even try to claim. But claiming is not just the object of desire here. I already know, from your breathing, and the way your hips buck, the way you grind harder, it's enough for your angry lips to drag against me, because I know you're getting close… So close…

And then I played my trump card, that you didnt know I could even do. Arched my back, to a degree you wouldnt believe. Feeling muscles scream in my lower back, tension in my belly almost snapping. But.

The tip of me got to where it needed to be. And then…

You stopped, breath ragged, chest heaving, as you shifted weight and threw your shoulders back, making them wider, cussing in frustration, desperate not to loose me, now that you had me where you needed me. To help, I made the bed creak as I strained to edge just a little further down the linen. That's all you needed. My wrists screamed, adding a white tinge of blinding light to add to the mix. Sex, pain and death. Always different edges of emotion that make the heart thump, and the soul sing, and the desires that run so deep, to flow faster, endorphins doing their job, adrenaline papering over the cracks. And you sighed, knowing I was there, and now, I wasnt leaving. Inching ever carefully, you angled your hips just to make sure, and claimed the tip of me. Fully claimed. Parting you. The bed may not survive this. But your breath betrayed your desires, and you let loose a yearning moan. We both know that our restrictions are at breaking point, and we both know that now you have the chance to sink, friction will take care of our hips, and the angle is such, that the roof is going to suffer. Joints will strain, cuffs will bite, but every time I reach inside you, it will be exactly in the right place, and every time we withdraw, the shaft will rub where it needs to, slickened by your urgent aching. This will not be a long fuck. We are both too riled up. Too ardent, too aroused. But it's gonna hurt. But pain is just the price to pay for exquisite joy, the ticket to unravellment, the ticket to sparks and explosive growls of shared emotion. Knowing we both feel the consequences.

Knowing we can both handle it.

Knowing we both want it. Like a drug, an elixir of passion, addicted and needing the fix of a hit. Desperately wanting the brain to melt, and unable to touch. Unable to make that wish known through conventional means. The usual way, the sensual stroke of fingertips across flesh, the inquisition, the touch, the haunting flutter of echoes of the most basic human needs. The need to touch and be touched. And then, you gulped, and sank slowly, feeling me groan, as you took me as far as you could, before crying out, '…too much…', but clenching tightly, almost a 'handshake' of sensation, and I responded similarly, pulsing, as I could feel you grip halfway down me, with room to spare, knowing if you were to feel me wholly inside, it'll require another level of commitment, which we slowly began to explore.

The bed creaks in protest, as we both shift from side to side, sinews popping, muscles aching, trying to find a desperate way to fully engage. Maybe I hadnt gotten my measurements quite as correct as I believed, or maybe the old gods were merely toying, enjoying us struggling to reach the point of joy. The rhythm had developed, mutual and dependent, parasitic even. As you shifted your hips back, I'd thrust in order to follow you, not wanting to leave, and lingered at the top of my movement, as you shifted back down, feeling me leave before you reached your limit, and that was the nature of the dance, slightly out of phase, but feeling every time our hips crossed paths, we were deeper, wetter, warmer, and closer. But more importantly, closer. But, most importantly, feeding off each other, you lingering, rolling your hips, watching my eyes intently as I push to my fucking limits, feeling you clench, sensing you gauge reactions, ever changing your response. Your hands grip my knees, pushing down, as you find a way to hit your golden spot every time, toes curling as the back was arched with a desperate aching hunger, and an exclamation of joy, as we timed ourselves perfectly. As every spurt is delivered, you gasp, skin shining with beads of sweat, and aching hunger, feeling kitty respond in answer, clenching, gaining, grasping… Feeling the heartbeat scream inside the ears, as every moment of orgasm is tempered by the cuffs and the pain. Such a mixture. As the walls rebound with voices that pull from the soul, pull from the core, pull, from inside, exposing a side of us, and a shared growl, a connection that speaks volumes, by touch. But that's the strange problem. No hands. No fingers.

As I leaked and slipped from you, you shone like a Goddess. Eyes and skin, tousled hair, and flushed skin, nipples brave, and heaving breasts, you gasped and gasped, then gasped again, feeling the joy course through you. As I unveiled my next surprise.

There's a gap in the headboard rail. Sure, I'd sawed through it, when you werent looking, but a gap exists nonetheless. And I found it, wide enough to drag the chain through, and it let me hug you and share that moment.

And a moment of coincidence.

We both clung to each other, sharing kisses. And whispered…

'…Fuck…'

Whispers… in the night… Just remember. They're always true…

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/2k8fkg/m4fcuffsropepainsex_heres_no_hands