Our eyes locked. I moved toward Moriah and ran my finger down her cheek and on to her lips. Her mouth opened and she sucked my finger, twirling her tongue around it.
I slipped a cuff on each wrist and raised her arms. She was just short enough that her hands didn’t reach the ceiling. I ran the rope through the hook and pulled it taut. She stood almost in the middle of the room, her arms stretched high, standing almost on tiptoe.
“What are you going to do to me?” she whispered.
I stood behind her as I made a knot on the hook and lowered my mouth to her ear. “Give me a safe word. Give me a word that, when you say it, I’ll stop whatever I’m doing and let you go.”
“No, I want you to be able to say ‘stop’ without really meaning it. Something else.”
Her hands now secured above her head, I walked in front of her. Reaching down, I rolled her cotton ribbed sweater up above her breasts, revealing a pretty lace bra. Her eyes widened. The rain was coming down hard, and the room darkened from the storm clouds.
I undid the button on her jeans, slowly lowered the zipper, and pulled her pants down toward her knees. She shook one foot, then the other, sending her slip-ons across the room.
I pulled her jeans off her. All that was left were her bra, panties and socks. And her sweater scrunched up to her chin above her small breasts.
Moriah had a look of wild passion in her eyes as she watched my every move. I left her there and looked around the room for some inspiration.
In the corner were my walking sticks, high-tech poles make of carbon fiber, with rubber-coated tips and leather-wrapped handles with loops that secured them to your wrists while hiking. I picked one up and walked back to Moriah.
She licked her dry lips.
Lightning flashed, followed quickly by the crash of thunder. The fresh smell of ozone filled the air. The excitement was palpable. The atmosphere was charged with electricity, both literal and metaphorical.
Moving back toward her, I undid my shirt and dropped it on the floor on top of her clothes. I took off my jeans, enjoying her sharp intake of breath when she saw my black G-string and matching bra.
Standing before her, I undid the clasp of my bra and let it fall to the floor. My breasts swayed, happy to be free. I lifted them toward her, massaging them as her mouth and tongue sought me out, eager to lick me. I laughed and pulled back, teasing her.
I picked up the hiking stick and pushed it up and under the front of her bra. I pulled hard, which allowed her small breasts to escape the tightness of her straps.
Her bra dangled haphazardly under her armpits, while I slid the pole down the front of her panties. She sucked in her stomach, as though fearing I would scrape her belly.
I hooked her panties on the tip of the pole, snagging them, and pulled down hard, poking a hole in the fabric. I yanked hard and pulled them down to her ankles. She kicked them off.
Moriah was completely nude now, swaying with desire. Her small breasts and firm pink nipples stood out on her stretched torso. I gazed at her wide hips and her triangle of pubic hair atop her shapely legs.
I licked my lips.
Running my fingers through her bush, I spread out the hair, enjoying the smoothness of it, so unlike my nearly hairless pussy. She opened her legs, inviting me in.
But I had other plans. I took the leather-covered handle of the walking stick and ran it from her ankle up the inside of her leg, straying over her pussy. And then down her other leg. She arched herself toward me, her legs opening as wide as she could in her position, which really wasn’t very wide.
I took the handle to my own panties, pushing aside the crotch, and began to massage my labia with the leather handle, rubbing the end of it on my clit.
“Oh, yeah, this feels so good,” I purred, eyeing her for a reaction. I pushed it further down, working the leather handle into my folds and to the entrance to my hole.
It was starting to feel delicious. I discovered I was wet.
I moved closer to her and thrust my hips into hers, the end of the walking stick now rubbing up against both our pussies.
“Fuck me now, Allie. Please,” she begged.
Not yet. Taking the walking stick in my hand and removing it from my G-string, I put it to her mouth. She sucked it, licking off my juices. Standing back, I spread my legs and parted my labia with my fingers, giving her an eyeful. I took the end of the walking stick, now wet with my juices and her spit, and moved it inside me.
She was moving her legs together, trying to get some friction on her hot pussy. I watched her watch me as I slipped the handle in deeper, my lips getting more swollen as I rubbed my clit with my other hand.
I pushed it in further, feeling an orgasm building. I pulled it out. The juices ran down my thighs as I inserted first one, then two fingers in my hole, thrusting them in and out rhythmically. My fingers made squelching noises as I fucked myself.
I moved toward her, still massaging my pussy, and rubbed the wet handle against her pussy, running it along the length of her swollen slit, not allowing it to enter her completely.
Moving the end of it to her clit, I circled it. I could see her climax building. Her face was flushed, her breath came in short spurts, and her vulva was red and swollen. Then she came, her head thrown back, her body heaving, her arms stretched out over her head as her legs hung limply.
I kissed her neck and my tongue traced lightly to her mouth. As our lips locked, our tongues sought out the other’s. I broke off the kiss and went back to my toy drawer, pulling out a short, black riding crop with six-inch leather strands. Her eyes widened as I flicked her gently on her stomach.
I wanted to tease her and have fun. I definitely didn’t want to overdo spanking with this special new lover. We had never talked about pain play, and I didn’t want to turn her off. Her eyes and her squirms told me I could continue….
[From Lip Service]