Velvet and Oiled Silk

by guardian46w, 2018-12-30 19:01:14

by Jeff Sinclair

Illustrations by Tarsis

Originally published in Bondage Parade No. 20

Scanned and Transcribed by guardian46w

Story Codes: M/f, bond, cons, love, tease, torment, arouse, gag, sex, X

Friday began a three-day weekend, so I met him at the door. I met him in white satin, my gown's hem just brushing the tops of my thighs, its tie-cords gleaming against my shoulders' creamy silk. I met him in white nylons, in embroidered thigh garters delicate with yellow daisies and roses. I met him in elbow-length white silk gloves. I met him on my knees with the rope in my hand.

He opened the door, and I swelled with pride as his eyes lit. They swept over my satin gown, my waist-length sable hair, braided now, and pinned into a crown atop my head and threaded with white silk ribbons. He saw the rope in my hands, and he smiled warmly and tenderly.

He came to me slow, smiling, and took the cord without a word. I rose at his silent command, my arms behind me, and he crossed and lashed my gloved wrists. The end of the rope circled my waist and snugged tight, holding my hands at the small of my back as he knelt and bound my nyloned ankles. I breathed faster as he smoothed the cord gently, its wide bands clinging firmly. The delicate scent of my body perfume strengthened as perspiration dewed on my silken skin, and the warmth at my core quickened, hot and liquid and loving.

He finished binding my ankles and straightened. Still without a word, he draped me over his shoulder, one hand creeping beneath my gown to stroke my satin-pantied ass gently and possessively. I felt his shoulder press into my velvet belly, my breasts crushing against his back, and I crooned in delight as he carried me into the playroom.

He eased me to the carpet in the back corner, and I stared at him, moist lips parted, panting, as he slipped the black leather about my throat. He buckled the collar, gently but firmly, and locked its chain leash to the corner ring bolt. Then he stroked my cheek with gentle fingers, brushing the silken skin lovingly. His hand dropped lower, a fingertip burnishing the puckered satin shadows of my hot nipples, and I purred, arching to offer him my breasts. He laughed tenderly and bent over me, his mouth hot and burning on mine, his tongue liquid fire through my lips. Then he broke the kiss, grinning at my greedy little whine of protest, and stroked my cheek again.

"In a little," he said gently, easing me to my side and lashing my ankles to my wrists. "But I've had a hard, sweaty day, so you'll just have to wait while I shower." He smiled at me again and left.

I lay as he had placed me, staring at the closed door, licking my lips as the long, slow minutes ticked by. Deep within me the embers had glowed secretly since morning, smoldering with anticipation of the weekend, smoking more fiercely as I had removed every scrap of hair from my silken body in preparation. Now my wrists turned slowly against their bonds, savoring their helplessness, feeling the sense of captivity creep through me. The satin of my bra and panties caressed my delicate skin sensually, smooth and warm and slightly damp with sweat. I had made myself lovely, offering him my body and love like a treasure trove to be kept safe and protected, and the ropes were his acceptance. They proved how precious I was to him, how completely he possessed me, and they made me feel delicately female, desirable and cherished. I moaned softly to myself, stretching against his ropes just to savor their unyielding possessiveness, and my body ached with passion.

By the time he returned, the rising incense of my passion filled the room with the heady scent of woman. Perspiration trickled down my proud cheekbones as I raised my head to stare at him. He crossed to stand above me in his robe, hair still damp and tussled from the shower, and I smelled him. My nostrils flared at the scents of soap and shaving cream, of after shave and man-flesh, and I quivered.

He bent to my prostrate body and lifted me gently to my knees. I shivered in delight as his hands caressed my naked shoulders, tracing the sharply defined shapes of my shoulder blades and spine. I lifted my lips to him, but he brushed them with a fingertip, the sweetly dismissive gesture filling me with fire, and plucked the shoulder ties of my gown.

I knelt very still as the gown slithered down, satin gliding on silken skin. It caught on my waist rope, but he slid the slick fabric past it to bare my delicate lingerie. The gown settled around my knees, a white, soft cloud, and the dusky pale columns of my thighs rose from it, swelling sweetly and plunging into the ruffled sea of my satin panties. Blue silk ribbons gleamed among the ruffles, and thin streaks of perspiration snaked down my fluttering belly as his eyes swept over the delicate ridges of my ribs to the tiny cups of my satin bra. His hands fluttered over me, stroking and caressing, and my collared neck bent, my leash jingling as my head arched back, and I thrust myself eagerly against his hands. His teasing touch brushed silken fire into my silken skin, but that was all. I moaned softly in need, my brown eyes dark and hazy with desire as I stared imploring, up at him, but he was in no hurry, and the sweet, sweet strength of his ropes held me captive to his pace.

"We've got three days," he whispered, plucking gently at my steaming nipples through the satin. "I'm not going to rush." He smiled and leaned forward, licking my sweaty forehead gently, nibbling my eyebrows. "I'm going to make it soooo slow for you," he promised, and I tried to kiss his throat, moaning in delight and momentarily frustrated desire.

He turned away, leaving me on my knees, and drew the mahogany sawhorse into the center of the room. I watched dizzily, swallowing and licking my lips, wrists tugging endlessly at my ropes as I willed him to hurry yet savored the slow, languorous pace of his movements. He laid a soft bolster lengthwise along the horse, lashing it firmly in place, and only then did he turn to me once more.

He unleashed me from the floor and released the cord between wrists and ankles, drawing me to my bound feet. His arms encircled me, drawing my nearly naked body close, and I crushed myself against him, moaning, the sound of my wanton kisses loud and liquid in the stillness. I lavished all my love with my lips and tongue, my bound captivity concentrating enough power and passion in my burning mouth to melt the bones of a statue. He returned my kisses, his hands roaming my naked back, squeezing my pantied ass, crushing my molten crotch against the rigid shaft of his passion, and my hips humped helplessly, scrubbing yearningly against the lovingly denied impalement they sought.

He chuckled and drew me towards the horse on my bound feet. I swayed, panting breath sobbing in my throat, as he unbound my hands and slowly removed my gloves. My wrists tingled as he retied them to the back of my collar with velvet drapery cord, and I whimpered, head rolling, as he bent my head back across the bolster, its round softness caressed my bent spine, and my breasts rolled in their tiny bra, hot and humid with lust as he moved quickly around the horse to bind another velvet cord through each of my elbows. he led their free ends to the legs of the horse, drawing them firmly taut, snubbing me and opening my elbows to frame my rolling head. Then he moved back to my feet and removed their cords, his lips nuzzling my calves through the nylon. I moaned in delight as he looped velvet cord around them, drawing them off the floor to bind them to the spreader bar thrust behind the legs of the horse. More velvet caressed my knees, lashing them wide to yet another, shorter spreader, and I was helplessly pinioned, my silken body spread and offered as a perfect love gift, open and quivering in his velvet ropes as I anticipated the love soon to be lavished upon me.

He touched me, his fingers dancing on my sweating softness, stroking and tickling, caressing, fanning the flames and maddening me with molten desire. He teased my moaning flesh tenderly, until I could stand no more, until I begged and pleaded with him to hurry.

"Please!" I panted. "Now! Now, please!"

"But we're only beginning," he said gently. "I see you're an impetuous mink who needs firmness." He bent and licked my fluttering navel, and I groaned, hips thrusting. He laughed against my rippling belly, teeth nibbling, and his hands found the tie cords of my panties.

I whimpered as they fell away, cool air tickling my naked crotch, and he laughed again as his exploring hands felt the silken smoothness of my hairless skin. He raised his hand and smiled into my eyes, burnishing the skin in tiny circles just clear of my throbbing clitoris.

"How smooth you are," he whispered. "Like silk," and I moaned and quivered as the darting tip of his finger just pierced me. My hips heaved, seeking full impalement, and his finger danced away.

"Ohhhhhhh, please!" I whimpered, and he chuckled again.

"Firmness, indeed," he murmured, and tugged more cords. My bra fell from my rock-hard breasts, slithering to the floor, and I stared up nakedly, silken skin quivering with tension as he picked up one of my gloves.

He rolled my bra and panties into a tight ball of ruffled satin and gripped my chin. I moaned in delight as my ripe lips opened and the fabric slipped through them. The taste of my own sweat and desire tingled on my tongue as he used the glove to tie the gag in place, and my eyes were pools of fire above the silk.

"Now, then," he said calmly, and his hands returned to my squirming nakedness with devilish skill. I bounced against his velvet cords, my whimpering pleas gagged to erotic mumbles, my skin dancing as he brought me to the very edge of explosion, then stopped.

I groaned in sweet, gagged torment as the flames surging in my flesh eased, sinking back from flash point to the simmering stew that smoldered in my belly and leaked down my quivering thighs. I snuffled through the gag of my panties, begging him to touch me again, to drive me mad with passion and cleave me with his hardness. He only smiled once more and turned away, opening a cabinet and returning to stand at the end of the horse.

My eyes widened when I saw what he held. He set the vibrator aside and shook the crystal bottle slowly, thoroughly. I stared at him over my flaming nipples and the fluttering plain of my belly as the oil surged thickly in the bottle and the passion pooled down my naked thighs above the nylons.

"Such smoothness deserves the best treatment," he said teasingly, his fingers stroking the hairless swell of my mound, and my hips leapt to meet his touch. He chuckled and opened the bottle of oil with deliberate slowness, setting the stopper aside. He poured his left palm full, and my eyes blazed passionately into his. He set the bottle down and split the oil between his hands, smiling down at me over the glistening pools of iridescent liquid, and then his hand descended, his cupped palms settling over my burning breasts.

I warbled through my gag, head thrashing in delight as the oil, warmed by his skin, trickled over my fine-grained flesh. My silken skin smoked as the slick, voluptuous oil covered my proudly plump nipples. His hands closed on my firmness, oil trickling down my slopes to pool in the hollow of my throat and gather on my breast bone. I sobbed through my nose, moaning and whimpering as he massaged the oil over my breasts. It was deliciously long before he finished, I had been reduced to gag-choked babbling by the passion rip sawing through me.

But still he wasn't finished! I stared through lust-glazed eyes, smelling the sharp, oil scent of my passion, groaning and shuddering in his velvet ropes, as he filled a bulb syringe with oil and picked up the heavy-duty vibrator once more. He slid the tip of the syringe gently through my fluttering petals, evading my wild effort to impale myself on even its tininess. He smiled lovingly and squeezed the bulb, and I screamed through my nose in bliss as the thick, syrupy oil surged into my womb. It tingled and nibbled, tiny droplets oozing slowly and luxuriously back out of me. And as my squeal of pleasure died, he plied the vibrator across me like a humming demon.

I went berserk. I squealed and jerked and twitched and heaved, fighting my bonds involuntarily, maddened with the need for pleasure and rendered down to smoldering happiness by my inability to attain it. He brought me to a frothing, fuming boil, skillfully denying even the tiniest climax as he edged me closer and closer to pure, passionate insanity.

Only when my gagged cries had taken on the edge of madness did he relent. He moved the vibrator higher, pressing it to my burning nipples as his robe parted and his erection lanced free. I couldn't see it, but I sensed its presence, then whined in anguished anticipation as he nosed gently against my bubbling, oil-filled tightness. He bent to suck one oiled nipple into his lips, lashing it with his tongue while the vibrator danced on the other like a devil. Then he thrust.

I squealed in delight, twisting as his rod clove my tightness, driving a tsunami of steaming oil before it. He drew back, sucking my boiling tightness closed on the oil, hammering thunderbolts of bliss through me as he took me. The vibrator snarled jubilantly down my shuddering torso, and I screamed as he trapped my throbbing clitoris between the vibrator and his own velveted steel.

I came. I came and came and came and came! The multi-peaked lightning snatched me shrieking into the clouds and flayed me with pleasure, then hurled me down to crash and burn upon the mountains of passion. The exquisite sensations twisted me like fire. explosions whiplashed through my belly like drumfire, and somewhere between the brilliant bursts of pleasure I felt his lava washing into me to drive me over the last, delirious brink. I squealed again, a long, wailing squeal above the gag, and plummeted like a meteor, trailing fire from between my silken thighs.

That was the start of the three-day weekend. It's Monday night, now. My weekend is almost over as I kneel before him, his velvet ropes once more encircling my silken body to bind me, helpless and delighted, for his pleasure and mine, especially mine. My mouth lavishes liquid worship upon him, the sounds of passion loud in the room, and the glowing furnace in my belly roars with renewed power and passion. He's trembling now. Soon his explosion will reward my ministrations, filling my mouth with the heat of his love.

I shall miss my ropes when he removes them. They are dear to me, both for the passion they release within me and the tenderness with which he applies them. It's hard to remember that once he had to talk me into trying them. That happened so long ago, so very long ago, and to another woman, a woman who had never dreamed of the all-consuming passion and aching love she would someday find in the gentle mastery of his loving bondage