“Beautiful,” my Dom says, almost to himself.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Well you too of course, though I was talking about my ropework,” he teases.
While I’m certain the intricate ropework crisscrossing my chest is gorgeous, my blindfold means I have to take his word for it.
“Then thank you, Sir, for the beautiful ropework.”
My shoulders are bound to one end of his coffee table, my knees are bent up, heels to butt, to tie my feet to the other end, and I am indeed grateful for these ropes.
“You’re welcome, bunny. But you just reminded me.”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, I just feel something press against my lips.
Obediently, I open my mouth to accept it. The taste of metal surprises me, but before I can wonder about it, the ring flips into place, my Dom pulling it tight behind my teeth. He secures the gag with a buckle, rendering me speechless and incredibly helpless- and aroused.
I feel a throb between my legs as my jaw is forced and then held open. It doesn’t matter what or even if he puts something in my mouth; the knowledge I wouldn’t be able to stop him has me wet already.
“There now, that’s better. Horny little sluts should be seen and not heard, isn’t that right?”
I don’t know whether I’m meant to reply, so I stick to an obedient silence.
“I said: ‘Isn’t that right?’”
I try to moan a “Yes, Sir,” around the gag, but it is of course completely unintelligible.
“I didn’t hear you, slut. I asked you a question.”
I let out a pleading whine.
“Disobedient whore, you answer me when I talk to you,” he reprimands.
The flogger flashes lightly over my breasts. My core tenses involuntarily and my eyes roll back; I love when he punishes for things that aren’t my fault. He strikes me several times, but we’re still just warming up.
“Look at these perfect breasts,” he sighs, massaging one with appreciation. “These perfect nipples…”
I feel his tongue, then his lips, then his teeth working over my nipple, coaxing it out and then making me gasp.
“Ohhh there we go.” He attaches a clamp. My hips still arch off the table just a bit as he adds the second one the same way.
The thwack! of the flogger between my legs surprises me. What did I do?
“Hold still!” Dom commands. I’m being punished for lifting my hips? “You’re my toy tonight, and you don’t move unless you’re using a safeword. Understood?”
Gagged, I nod my head, but it earns my pussy several more strokes. “That looks like moving to me,” he growls. I stay still. But then,
“Would you look at that. This horny, dripping wet cunt got my flogger all wet. Disgraceful, we’ll have to punish you for that, too.”
My Dom steadily works the flogger over my exposed lips with increasing strength. The cords of leather work my skin hot and raw- and I only grow wetter. But my confusion is also becoming aroused, unsure why he’s making up so many things to punish me for.
“There, I think we’re almost ready.”
Ready? A zing of excitement slices through the uncertainty. What are we ready for? I hold my breath, anticipating what new games he has for us to try.
“Oh, but one last thing,” is the warning I get before I feel a well-lubed butt plug start to press inside me.
“We want you looking your best for the guests! Put on all your best jewelry, have a shiny little gem to cover your asshole, like a modest little whore.” Sir tugs on the nipple chain lightly, and the clamps eventually release my breasts with a bounce.
My excitement tenses into anxiety. Guests?! I knew he planned to take me to a party later, but I thought we’d be done with our scene before then, and I didn’t know he was hosting!
My heart races at the thought of what that could mean for me. The house parties I’ve been to have always stayed just on the safe side of an orgy: a spinning bottle excuses shy kisses, bolder caresses restrain themselves to quiet corners, memories deliberately hidden inside liquor bottles. But this, this was so different in so many ways.
I’m just not certain how different, or in exactly which ways. Not only am I completely naked and tied down before anyone arrives, they knew this was coming when I didn’t. Nor do I know how far this is supposed to go, but I imagine the guests do (I know my Dom would never involve anyone in a scene without their consent). The mental dynamic is another way I am made to feel powerless, since the only thing I can do is wait and see.
I am, however, grateful for the plug. Not only do I enjoy the degradation of having my asshole dressed up with the jewel, it is also a silent promise that anal play is not on the table tonight. I need that reassurance, because my ring gag makes a very different promise.
I’m grateful, too, that he blessed me with a blindfold to mask my face and help me submit to the night. The gag and ropes are another blessing: they relieve me of the responsibility of having to meet anyone, obey any orders, or respond to any questions. I just have to accept whatever is done to my body- my silence and immobility reducing me to an object.
This would also strip away the sliver of control I always maintain: my safewords. So, we adapt the trusty traffic-light code to two colored balls. My arms were left free from the ropes, and with a red ball in my left hand and a yellow one in my right, I can always drop them if anything starts to become too much.
“Excited for the party now? I am, I’m excited to show off my new centerpiece!”
***
To be continued if you like it! I am accepting constructive criticism ☺️
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/krdm9b/my_first_erotic_story_centerpiece_1_kinky_bdsm
I absolutely love the little bitty details! Hope you write more!