The leather was so soft against my skin, it felt comfortable - comforting, even. There’s a certain safety in being bound, and maybe that’s part of the appeal of this particular kink for me. It’s difficult to turn off my insatiable need to perform acts of service for those I love, especially in bed. Knowing I’m pleasing my partner is one of the quickest ways to move my headspace from “interested” to “so very hot for you, please put your fingers, your tongue, your cock, that dildo, literally anything you want inside me right now.”

But, that desire to please can keep me in my head, and prevent what I really, truly need: just to let go. To move beyond constantly fretting about where on my lover’s body my hands should go, to sinking into the delicious feelings he’s bringing me, too, just from our bodies connecting. I see how some people would hate being tied, bound, unable to move. And I couldn’t allow myself to submit in that way with just anyone. But when I really love someone? When I know he could hurt me, but he won’t? When I have months’ worth of trust-building interactions, a daily dose of kind words from him, and that melty, glitchy feeling I get when his eyes light up in my presence, knowing he wants me without having to say a word?

Yes. Please. Tie me up. Bind me however you see fit. Use me like the slut I so badly want to be for you.

I lay very still as he tightened the cuffs around my wrists, hoping he noticed the slight grin on my face. This was a first for me. I’d finally found someone willing to help me experience the bondage I’d been so curious about. Previously, I’d only ever been restrained in a way that I could, if I wanted, gotten myself out. Velcro can only do so much to hold me back, and the few times I'd experienced it previously, I escaped. Not because I was uncomfortable, but because my desire to please took over. I needed to be free to make sure my partner was being touched in the way he wanted.

But these cuffs? The ones he pulled out of his bag, that I didn’t know he had? They buckled around my wrists like belts. I wasn’t getting out of them unless he allowed it.

I couldn’t have been more excited. I couldn’t have played it cool if I’d wanted to. My body will always betray me. I became a helpless kitten in that moment. I felt my own juices start to pool in a small puddle on the bed. I leaned into it, letting a truly magical feeling crawl all around my skin like tiny pinpricks of pleasure.

While I laid there, watching him work on me, I admired his naked form, his strength, his assuredness in what he was doing. This man is absolutely perfect to me, even the parts of him that I know he frets over, or feels inadequate about. But to me? There’s not an atom on his form that isn’t a turn-on. Everything about this man's physical form is hot. His bald head. Those strong shoulders and tatted arms and sculpted legs and hairy chest and hands that could strangle me and oh god, please, smother me with that perfect mouth of yours.

“Ok. Sit up. Cross-legged.”

Ever a good girl, I obeyed, although I wasn’t expecting that command. I also wasn’t expecting to have my hands bound behind me. When I played this scene out in my mind, not only had it sparked dozens of hot solo play sessions, but I only imagined my hands restrained over my head, perhaps being chained to the bedpost.

He had other plans. Removing my ability to leverage myself by keeping me tied in this way would result in a more submissive experience for me.

I didn’t realize how often I relied on my hands during sex. Not just for touching my partner, but for helping me leverage and position my own body.

There was a quick moment of panic, when it sunk in just how stuck I was in this position. I was completely at his mercy. I would only be freed when he was ready to let me go. And he was about to put me in any position he chose, whether I wanted it or not.

Readers, I tell you with all certainty: I wanted it. All of it. Anything this man chose to do to me.

I felt his thick thighs straddling me from behind. He’d gotten himself in that position to bind my hands behind my back, but he made sure I knew how hard he was, nestling his erection against the crack of my ass. My skin shivered as he traced his fingers up my sculpted arms, all the way from my cuffs to my shoulders, up my neck, and through my hair. He buried his face in my neck for a kiss on what he knows is my most sensitive spot on my upper body.

Then, he stood up. Walked himself over to position his rod in front of my mouth. He grabbed a handful of my thick hair, still messy from last night’s sleep, and shoved his throbbing phallus down my throat.

I gladly swallowed him up, teasing the underside of his member with a wet, flat tongue, going at exactly the pace he wanted. He was in control here. I was thrilled.

There was no finesse to this, no foreplay, no tracing of his length with gentle fingertips, like usual, to make sure he was good and ready for me. This was a mutually desired, aggressive, throat fuck.

“You’re going to choke on my cock like the good little slut that you are. Do you understand?”

I looked up at him and nodded through eyes that were starting to water, drool starting to sliver down my chin, eagerly taking him in my tiny mouth.

The inability to touch him drove me mad, but also was freeing. He could only touch me. And that added to the intensity, psychologically more than physically. It gave me permission to stop worrying about pleasing him. I could sense that he was pleasing himself by taking me exactly as he wanted. And I was a ready candidate to help him feel exactly the way he deserved: admired. Wanted. Worshipped.

I sucked harder, taking him farther back than I ever had, fighting my instincts to pull away for a breath. This moment’s act of service was to allow him to use me, to push my own limits beyond what I thought possible. And I wasn’t pulling away until he was ready for whatever he wanted next.

After several minutes of deep throating, he turned me away from him, shoving me flat down on the mattress, all while making sure I still landed gently on the strategically placed pillows at the top of the bed.

“On your knees, slut,” he cooed, in a voice at least an octave lower than his everyday voice, the one that makes my heart flutter with each phone call, or voice memo sent just to make my day. Knowing his animal body was taking over, and I was helping free that part of him, was all the encouragement I needed to obey.

Or, at least try to obey. I felt nervous and unable to move, without my hands for leverage. “I don’t think I can; I need my hands…” I managed to whimper.

With a smack on my ass, he commanded, “I said, on your knees.”

He snatched me up by the hips - grabbing exactly the spot that was a direct line to making my clit swell with need - and gave me two more smacks on the ass. “Next time, learn to follow directions.”

I nodded, creaked out a “thank you,” and arched my back as much as I could to give him all the access he craved to my glistening, dripping wet pussy and tight ass, both on full display for him.

I almost came from the simple, light touch he gave my cunt, his thick fingers finding my slippery, slick folds, teasing them with long strokes. I was so ready to erupt with pleasure, when he whispered in my ear, “Someone is soooo soaking wet for me. That’s my good girl.”

“Do you want my cock?” he asked, playfully, as he began to stroke his erection between my soft, warm pussy lips. I didn’t know how badly I wanted him there, how greedy I was feeling for his touch.

“Yes, please, yes,” I said.

Another smack on the ass preceded. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir, please, give me your cock.”

“Will you squeeze it hard for me?”

“Yes sir, I’ll milk every last drop of cum from you.”

As he rested the tip of his member at my entrance, I made sure to squeeze it, showing him just how badly he was wanted.

“You’ll get my cock when I’m ready to give it to you, my beautiful little whore.”

I whimpered and whined, writhing and wiggling back in hopes I could draw him inside me.

Another smack on the ass. “I didn’t give you permission to push back, sweetheart. Stay still for me, and maybe you’ll get what you want.”

The long lines he was tracing up and down my arms, down my torso, close to but not quite touching my slit, were causing more involuntary spasms of my hole, and more of my juices to pool around him. Being forced to stay in one position, hands still bound behind my back, added to my pleasure. I ached to feel him ramming himself inside me; wanted to feel every inch of his bulge stretching each centimeter of my very core.

Finally, without warning, he thrust himself, hard, into me. The grunts and moans that escaped his mouth let me know he was enjoying himself. He used all his strength to shove his way inside, rhythmically pumping with a force unlike any he'd used before.

With one hand still on my hip, his other found my neck. Yes. Breath play! He knew just how to grab my throat, in such a way that restricted my breathing without making me feel suffocated. His talents never cease to amaze me.

I gave in. I’d been on the edge for far too long. I didn’t wait for permission this time. I came hard, and fast, feeling my powerful orgasm start to build in the pit of her abdomen, then snaking its way down from my cervix all the way up and down my canal. As my walls contracted over and over, grasping his thick manhood, I came all over his cock.

The squeezing and releasing was too much for him, too. He released my throat, grabbed another handful of my hair, and pounded me even faster from behind. I felt his cock harden and swell as it began spasming and unloading ribbons of cum inside me with a breathy outburst of “Fuck, you feel so fucking good, your pussy is perfect for me.”

Both our breaths quickened as I continued to ride my own orgasm and enjoy the feeling of his at the same time.

He collapsed on my back, as I straightened out my legs. The warm, soothing embrace from behind was exactly the transition step she needed to come back to reality.  As easily as he bound me, he released my wrists. He rolled me over on my back. His hazel eyes were still wide from the ferocity of his orgasm. Combined with the gentle way he stroked my face, with our eyes locked on each other, I melted in a way I didn’t know was possible.

I also didn’t know I’d been holding my breath, waiting to throw my own arms around his torso, to pull myself into him, to bury my face in the soft tufts of hair on his chest as I planted gentle kisses of gratitude all over him.

“You were such a good slut for me today, my love,” he said, with a long, passionate kiss, his tongue finding mine. As I felt his cum start to seep slowly down my inner thighs, my desire and need for him intensified. As if I wasn’t before, I was absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, his. All his.