Cupping Therapy and Tentacle Marks [bondage, anal play, cupping, body art]

By J.K. Jones

My wife Zara was a little restless last Sunday afternoon. I was sitting back on our bed, propped up and half reading a garbage Tom Clancy novel, and half watching some awful movie on Youtube, when Zara came walking into the bedroom and hopped onto the bed beside me. There was a flashing gleam of mischievousness in her dark brown eyes, and as she pushed aside her long black hair, she smiled, and set down a large black rectangular case, on the bed between us.

I raised an eyebrow at her.

My feisty little slutwife was constantly ordering sex gizmos and bondage equipment on Amazon, usually after a few hours of hard D/s fucking, with the whole nine yards of restraint and discipline, usually some hard swats, and definitely a few miles of long, hard cock pummeling her squirting cunt and tight little butthole, with her all the while moaning and screaming and gargling in her own juices as she rode the orgasm express, a thrill that for her usually lasted the better part of two hours. Anyway, after this nightly ritual, I usually would fall asleep, my chores finished, tired and sore and just completely fucked raw. She would masturbate with a huge black horsecock dildo and a skinny little vibrating rod while I fell asleep beside her, and then when her hungry cunt was finally sated long enough for her to fall asleep, but just before she did, she would often order sex toys and gadgets, straps, floggers, ropes, swings, caribiners, ties, twists, cocks, dildos, vibrators, you name it. Sometimes she would go overboard, and once we got an electric TEMS unit delivered, and another time it was a fuck bench, literally, with a rocking seat over a large upright rubber cock. I didn’t give two shits about this hobby of hers, because it was her money, and she had plenty, and frankly, fetish and kink is nothing if not a hobby worth spending a few thousand bucks on.

“Whats that?” I asked her, looking up from my book.

“Cupping.” She said. “I saw something on a kink site, and ordered it.” She pulled the black box open and I spotted about two dozen clear plastic cups, each with a tip, and what looked like a black valve. There was a hand held pump and some rubber tubing.

“I’ve heard of that. For the lymphatic system. What the fuck do we need with those?”

She blew out a little air with an annoyed sound. “Ye of little faith. This is kink fuckery at its finest. You are going to put these all over my body. And hopefully do some other magic things at the same time.”

“Show me how it works,” I said, interested. I set aside my book. Zara lifted her sweater over her head, baring her large, perfect tits, which bounced a little as they found themselves able to breathe. “Watch this,” she said. She took one of the larger cups, about two inches in diameter, and placed it over her right nipple. She attached the rubber hose to the cup, and then the other end to the pump, and squeezed the pump five or six times. With a sucking sound, her nipple leaped up into the cup, expanding, stretching against the plastic, almost filling up the cup.

Zara gulped in pain, and breathed out. “Wow, that’s intense.”

“This has potential,” I said. I could feel my cock bumping a bit. I reached over, and found the valve on the nippled cup, and twisted it, releasing the pressure. I pulled the cup off her nipple. Zara pouted at me. “I was just starting to enjoy that.”

“Listen, my lovely slut,” I said, getting to my feet. “Every stupid fucker that buys this kit puts the first two on two nipples. We are going to do this at the pro level, from the git go.”

“Well, I like the sound of that.” Zara said, looking up at me.

“Strip. Now.” I told her. Zara complied happily, skinning the rabbit, tossing aside her yoga pants, and then sitting on the edge of the bed looking up at me, her huge tits swaying, her thin torso barely showing, her long and lovely legs demurely crossed at the ankles.

I made her wait a little, just to fuck with her, to get her juices percolating. I found a card in the black box and read it out loud, blandly and slowly. “Cupping therapy is an ancient form of alternative medicine in which a therapist puts special cups on your skin for a few minutes to create suction. People get it for many purposes, including to help with pain, inflammation, blood flow, relaxation and well-being, and as a type of deep-tissue massage.”

She fidgeted. “I know all that.” I pushed her down on the bed to the right, revealing her perfectly shaped right ass cheek, and I slapped her hard on her ass. “Don’t interrupt.” I chided, noticing the red handprint that I had left. The blow had jolted her for a second, since it was unexpected, although frankly, it shouldn’t have been. She often acted bratty so that I would have to spank and flog her. It was a game that never lost its allure for either of us.

“I am sorry, Sir,” she said. She looked up at me with big brown eyes. “You were saying?”

“I was saying it’s time for St. Andrews cross, you cunt. And fetch a roll of shrink wrap as well.”

With an excited giggle, my naked wife leaped to her feet to go dig out some sex props, and I scooped up the cupping kit, and both of us moved into our large sex room, just through an arch from our sleeping quarters. It was originally a second bedroom that we, when we finally became empty nesters three years ago, turned into a world class bondage dungeon. I won’t bore you with a description here- other than to say that against one wall stood a project that had taken me two weeks of welding and metal working to finish off, a perfect St. Andrew’s cross.

I put leather cuffs on Zara’s slim wrists and ankles, taking a few moments to slide two thick fingers into her juicy quim, feeling her shudder with the beginnings of her orgasms as I slathered my fingers around in her cunt. I held her against the cross, her facing it, and I pulled my hand out of her, spit on the fingers a little, and slid one of them in her tight little pink asshole. She moaned and pushed against the metal of the cross, and I pulled out my fingers for good, for now. We had cupping to do.

First, I put in a ball gag, clamping it around her head, seeing her eyes go a little wild as she realized she’d have to breathe through her nose. Then I clipped her cuffs, both ankles and both wrists, to the four end corners of the cross, seeing her spread eagled, facing away from me, her legs spread enough so I could see her pink labia. I could certainly smell her cunt, and could see how turned on she was. I stripped off my shirt so she could feel my gym-hardened body against her as a I brushed against her lush, curvy flesh every once in a while. I also had a flogger at hand and would out of the blue beat her ass a few licks periodically. She was moaning into her ball gag, and writhing every time I flogged the high back of her legs, and I knew she was eager to cum. I took the flogger, turned it around, coated the entire handle with a small amount of almond oil, our lube of choice, which was in a handy bottle, within reach, as always. Then I inserted the handle of the flogger into her tight ass, and pushed it in five or six inches, letting the black leather of the whip fall like an animal tail. She tried to scream, but the ball gag muffled it so I didn’t have to hear her whimper and beg for me to take the whip out of her asshole.

I stepped back and looked at my restrained, turned-on slutwife. I thought for a few moments to call my friend Jackson, who was a dom like me, and occasionally came over to help me double fuck her until she couldn’t breathe any more, but I decided to hold off on that joyful thought until another time, and just handle this little cockwhore myself.

“Ready for some cups?” I asked her, teasing. She whimpered loudly, nodding her head as she was able.

“Mmmm, not yet.” I said. First, the shrink wrap.” Then I took our thick roll of shrink wrap, which was designed for kinky sex, not sandwiches, and began to go to work. It was only about four inches wide, but the roll was thick and long, and I began wrapping each of her arms and legs, one by one to the corresponding metal of the St. Andrews cross. I wrapped each limb of hers in a loose spiral, not covering the whole leg, but rather leaving a spiral of flesh all the way up each leg and arm, untouched by the wrap. This was where the cups were going to go. And if I did it right, she’d have painful spirals of cup marks curling in parallel spirals up her legs from her calves to her cunt, just like fucking octopus tentacles.

I swear, I don’t know where this stuff comes from. But it seemed like a cool idea at the time.

Not wanting her to get bored, I spanked her six or seven times, hard, hard enough for my own hand to sting, so I knew she was in pain, which also meant she was probably needing to cum or her head might explode or some shit. So I generously slid three fingers into her cunt, and honed in on that one special little bump of hers up inside. She screamed into the ball gag and shuddered, and her body began to shake spasmodically as she came, and then she orgasmed so hard, and I swear that this is true, she pushed the whip out of her ass, and shot it across the floor.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or feign anger, and use it as a pretext to beat her some more, but I figured to go light, since it was obviously a reflexive act, and not purposefully done. She whimpered apologetically, knowing she just launched something out of her ass, and probably praying it wasn’t covered in shit. I didn’t smell anything dirty, and wouldn’t have been worried had I in fact sniffed poop- shit happens sometimes, literally, when you do as much anal play as us.

“Okay, lets see if it lives up to the hype.” I told her, and, mercifully, began to apply the cups. I put twelve on each leg, running them up in a spiral from the back of her calf, up the outside of her leg, across her thigh, inside her thighs, then around and up to her lush ass cheeks. Each cup took six hits from the pump, and pulled her plush flesh up into the cup in a distended, angry red cupcake. She sucked in air, with each new cup adding to her pain, and taking her into her slave space, this place in her head where, as she describes, she just moves around between pulses of pure pleasure.

After all the cups were on, I grabbed my smart phone and took pictures and video of it. She looked like some kind of sexy octopus or squid with the cups spiraling up her legs. It was very sexy, and I considered whipping out my cock and long dicking her from behind, but decided to hold off on that for now, and make this about cupping and finger play. She could show her gratitude later by rimming my clean ass and licking my balls while I jacked off, finally cumming in her mouth, and down her throat (my favorite way to finish these days.) But that would be later. I wanted to make this cupping play something about her.

Not that she would have minded cock. But again, it wasn’t what she wanted that mattered. She would take whatever I decided to give, and that in itself was what precipitated her trip to the promised land. I was always hard, but fair, and she always ended up cumming twenty times for every one of my orgasms, so this is how we played. And today, she wasn’t getting cock in her cunt or ass. She was getting painful art etched into her legs, whip marks on her lovely ass, and digital penetration of her squirting nethers.

As I fingered her unrelentingly, she shuddered through a few more orgasms before I thought to remove her ball gag. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she moaned. “Fuck those cups hurt.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah,” she said. “I need to order another set so you can do my arms at the same time. And my ass, and my clit too.”

I popped the cups off her after fifteen minutes- which was longer than the instruction manual said was typical, but she was begging me to leave them on, shaking as she was with the pleasure of pain. She had a lovely trail of round red welts up her legs that for all the world looked like she had just had sex with an octopus and had been held by the legs with its tentacles.

“I’m thinking this could be part of a Halloween costume next year.” Zara said later, looking in the mirror.

I finally pulled out my Leatherman and sliced through the shrink wrap. I unhooked her cuffs from the cross, and caught her as she fell into my arms. I carried my lovely wife to our bed, and laid her down on it. She smelled like cunt, really strong. She smiled up at me. “That was money well spent.” She said.

“Indeed,” I said. “After you recover, let’s try them on me.”

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/dvfj4o/cupping_therapy_and_tentacle_marks_bondage_anal