The way the ropes were, he couldn’t move his head, so his vision was static, just the white wall with sunlight splashed on it and empty space in his peripherals. The time: mid-morning. The risk: discovery. If he strained his ears, he could hear the shush-shush of her bare feet against the floor behind him. His own feet were tied to two of the legs of his chair.
Her hand was on the top of his head, in his hair. He felt almost overheated. There was a bead of sweat running down his back. The ropes were real hemp rope, like what you might use on a ship or a hammock, and scratched warmly a little if he moved. She traced her hand down over his ear and was using her nails by the time she reached the side of his throat. “I fantasize about everything I’ll do to you. You or someone like you.”
Was he interchangeable? An object? A quotation he’d seen online once raced absurdly through his mind: Submissives have all the real power. He’d sort of believed it at the time. He needed a cigarette. He was painfully turned on. She’d tied the ropes without any trace of concentration on her face, her hands creepy fast. He’d been half immobilized before quite realizing it was already happening. His shoulder jumped reflexively beneath her hand, but he couldn’t lean towards her when he tried. He badly wanted her to come closer, although he feared what might happen if she did. She was partially within sight now. Her skin was almost ebony-colored against the sunny wall. Her hair slithered over his shoulder and made his heart rate double.
Her other hand was jerking him off now, which was too much to take even with the lube. He’d already come twice since his arrival to the apartment at seven a.m, and almost come what felt like an infinite number of times. He’d been hard essentially since the evening before. On the subway and the sidewalk, he had blushed uncontrollably every time someone glanced at the bulging crotch of his white slacks. He hadn’t been allowed to wear underwear on the way over. Sitting down on the train, he’d gotten too excited, thinking about what was going to happen, until his dick strained upright against the dampening cloth and he was shifting in his seat, attracting stares. Then he hadn’t been allowed to take off the pants until he’d come for the first time, so the fabric had tented and stretched tight and stained obscenely.
Her palm smacked his cheek. “Eyes open. You’re being so loud right now. You sound desperate.”
He shook himself and stared forward, looking down as much as he could to see her mouth beside his throbbing dick, close enough for her lips to brush the head when she spoke. “Do you think the neighbors are listening?” she asked. “They can definitely hear you. I don’t know if you even realize how loud you moan. Don’t talk.”
Her nails raked his thighs and dug painfully into the flesh behind his knees, near a loop of rope, but it didn’t matter because his dick was finally in her mouth, passing over her catlike tongue, sliding against the slick velvet of the inside of her cheek before she dipped her head and he felt himself against the back of her throat. His bound hands were clutching ineffectually at the air. His pelvis jerked and tried to thrust further into her mouth, despite his best efforts to stay still, but there was rope holding him to the creaking chair. Even like this, with his hard dick down her throat, he didn’t feel like she was giving him anything but a favor. A few hours of attention. He craved it like a drug. The world seemed to have narrowed to just what he could see and feel, the motion of her sucking and half-swallowing, all the problems he’d had yesterday and the day before and the week and year before that retreating into irrelevance. He tensed up. He was so close. He hadn’t even thought it was possible for him to come this many times in the space of a few hours. His muscles strained and twitched against the ropes. His breathing was ragged. So close—
She pulled off and stepped away, far enough for him to see her face, which was photogenically angular and striking, in a sadistic sort of way. Her tongue swiped pre-cum from the corner of her lips. Her dark eyes were cold, as always, but seemed interested. Invested, maybe. He rocked the chair, panting and whimpering like a beaten animal, his dick horribly far from reach and a reddish purple color, popping with veins. His balls ached. She left the room.
His head dropped as much as it could, given the rope. There were tears of frustration running down his face and his dick. He closed his eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths. There was hot sun on the back of his head. He counted to 900 before giving up.
He heard the door open again, and suddenly all her weight was on him, skin on skin, her mouth on his and her breasts pressed to his chest, grinding down on his lap with her legs wrapped around him, tied to the chair. She bit down on his lower lip when he said her name and then reached down, holding herself up on his shoulders, and guided his rock-hard dick inside her.
His vision flickered until the room’s colors seemed ultra-saturated. Her pussy was a hot, tight, wet explosion in his mind. He’d never fucked her raw before, or without begging. She was breathing quietly in his ear. He could feel every millimeter of her as she rode him, burying his dick deep inside her until she could grind down on his pelvis and then rising until they were nearly separated, just the hypersensitive head of his dick enveloped in the intense warmth of her dripping pussy, before slamming her hips down to take him as far in as she could. Her heavy breasts shook with her every move. She was sucking and biting unpredictably on his throat. Her sweet vanilla smell seemed to take over everything but the sight of her hips thrusting up and down on his dick and the unimaginable need he felt, his balls getting tighter and tighter with every second. His whole body was tense and dripping sweat, the noises he couldn’t help but make echoing off the walls. This was what he’d wanted all morning, all of that excruciating subway ride, in his restless dreams last night. Once she’d given him a pair of her panties and he’d masturbated with them every night for a week. He’d never thought this would ever happen in reality. He could feel his pulse racing.
Her body arched pornographically, his neck aching in the sudden absence of her mouth, and he saw that she was coming, her pussy clenching again and again down the length of his dick. He squirmed against the ropes, almost hyperventilating, terrified to come inside her but unsure if he could stop himself, as she took the full length of his dick deep inside her, her skin pressed against his balls, her pussy still pulsating. “Do you want to come?” she asked him.
“Yes, yeah,” he stuttered.
“You want to fuck me like I was fucking you?”
“Yeah,” he managed. She reached around him, still making tiny circles with her hips, his throbbing dick still firmly inside her, and he felt the ropes loosen and fall away. He pulled his hands hesitantly free. His legs were still halfway tied to the chair below the knee.
“On the floor,” she said in his ear, and rose up until his dick slipped out of her and slapped against his stomach, painfully hard and dripping pre-cum. He got up out of the chair and crawled a few feet to where she had sat down cross-legged on the bare hardwood, dragging the chair behind him. She slid her arms around him and kissed him, pulling him towards her until she was on her back and he was just above her on his knees, as if ready to pray, the ropes still wrapped around his wrists. She propped her knees on his shoulders and took his dick in her hand again to guide it inside her. Her face was slightly amused.
He thrust into her, slowly at first, his face pressed into her shoulder, the chair clattering on the floor behind him. His hands roamed, grabbing for her ass, then her waist, then her big breasts. Soon he was slamming into her as hard as he could, as fast as he could, humping her like a wild animal, his balls swinging and slapping into her, her teeth on his collarbone dragging groans and mumbled words out of his mouth. He could feel his hard dick expanding even more, pushing and pushing against the velvety walls of her pussy until she actually gasped.
“Come inside me,” she said.
He shoved his nose into her hair and pounded frantically, the ropes yanking against his legs, pushing her across the slippery floor with the force of his thrusting. He felt like he was getting deeper and deeper every time he crashed into her, his balls practically vibrating. He could hear voices through the wall but couldn’t stop moaning into her neck, saying her name, pulling her closer to his chest and pushing as far inside her as he could get, her legs clamped on his back. Her burning-hot pussy trembled and got even tighter, squeezing his dick like a fist, and he realized she was coming again. He jackhammered into her desperately, his balls tightening as far as they could as he forced his hips down to hers and buried his massive dick in her pussy, shooting into her with every drop of cum left in his body. He gave her four or five more shuddering, sloshing thrusts, pumping her completely full of liquid until cum ran out and dripped back onto his empty balls, groaning loudly. The voices on the other side of the wall stopped talking.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5ivtqc/the_chair_mf_bdsm_str8