the hardest, part ii

You remember last time:

He took me in his arms and picked me up, putting me over his shoulder and carrying me to the bedroom.

I was completely undressed and Monsieur still fully dressed. He even had on his shoes and tie. I kept pulling at his clothes, trying to unbutton or undress him. He would push my hands away, reaching for me. It became comical – we were actually wrestling over his clothing. I giggled and he pressed his advantage; finally he took my two hands in his and, taking his bathrobe from the hook on the closet door, he pulled the robe tie off and lashed my wrists together. He pulled the tie taught, stretching my arms over my head. I held my breath. My eyes were looking up at him, and he tied my wrists to the headboard.

I pulled at the bathrobe tie. It held.

“Shit,” I said. I looked up at him.

Monsieur got off the bed, leisurely. I tried to flip around to get up and get to the knot that held me down, but he growled, “Oh, will you, now?” and pulled my legs down. He took his necktie and tied my left ankle to the foot board, pulling it taught enough to straighten my leg as well.

“I might rip that,” I warned him, pulling at the necktie around my leg.

He removed his belt. “That would be most unfortunate,” he said, with a chuckle. He slapped the end of the belt against his palm.

“Oh, god, no,” I gulped, knowing that belt could sting. I didn’t want him to be angry at me for ripping his necktie. I held still.

“Fair enough,” he said. Yet, I still wanted a spank or two.

One leg was free and I moved it around to attempt to leverage the other one. I still thought I might undo the knot on my wrists. His back was turned and he was unbuttoning his shirt, fussing with the collar. I was flipped over and wriggling to the headboard with my free leg pushing me towards it.

Monsieur turned around and, seeing my escape attempt, pulled me down by my leg and tied my other ankle to the foot board – this time with the tie to my bathrobe – stretching me out face down with my arms tied up over my head and both my legs stretched out.

“Shit,” I said again.

Monsieur opened the closet door to put his belt away, then stepped into the closet.

When he came back, he held my new vibrator in his hand.

I turned and stared at it. I had no idea he knew I had it, as I keep all of my toys hidden away, under my winter clothes, in a box that’s wrapped up in a bag. Especially this one, since it looks so … indulgent.

It had been a gift from a blog reader, who will stay anonymous, and who remembered that my birthday was in May. The reader had looked over my wish list, saw the vibrator I picked out, and sent it to me. It had come with a note,

Dear Yearning Heart,
You’ve turned me on so much I just thought I’d return the favor, with much appreciation.

I loved it, the gift of it and the thought behind it. I even wrote a short review for Amazon for it. But of course I never mentioned the gift, or even the vibrator, to Monsieur. And now he held it in his hand, and I was tied to his bed.

He pulled me up to my knees, which stretched my arms out. My wrists were starting to hurt, but I didn’t care.

He felt at me, very gently touching my swollen vulva, pressing his hand against it. It burned, and the cold air hit my wetness as he opened me up. He looked at the vibrator, which has a set of controls, and turned on the vibrating part to a low setting. He touched it to me.

Normally when it’s on its lowest setting, I can barely feel it. But when he touched it to me it was as if I had been shot out of a catapult. I came suddenly, biting the pillow to stop from screaming, and feeling that I looked ridiculous, I was so embarrassed, I blushed bright red. Then I sneezed.

“Salud,” he said.

“Merci,” I replied.

He shoved the toy into me.

My legs pulled at the restraints and I tried so hard to push back against it, but I was well bound to the headboard, and quite at his mercy. He didn’t show very much. My body was out of my own control, and when he put it inside me, he turned it on high. He made the probe part turn on, and the little beads went around and around, and the probe twirled up and down, spiraling into me. Occasionally he would push it into me, which brought the little rabbit up to my clitoris. Then he would pull it out … and it would barely be inside me, hardly touching me at all.

In ten minutes I was almost out of breath. My entire sex was so swollen I could barely handle it being touched.

He turned the toy off, and set it on the night stand.

Standing up, he began to undo his shirt and and remove his shoes. He put his shirt and socks carefully in the laundry hamper. He folded his pants neatly and considered them. “I could wear those again, I should think,” he said to himself.

I pulled at the bathrobe tie that held my wrists. It held fast.

He opened the closet door, found a hanger and hung up his trousers. He retrieved my vibrator from the nightstand and set it on the counter by the bathroom vanity. Then, he finally slipped off his boxer shorts.

He was magnificently hard, and It pointed at me, curved up like a boomerang. I could see his pulse in It, the flare of Its head, and my mouth felt dry. I licked my lips.

He leaned over me, brushed the hair from my face and kissed me softly. I responded hungrily.

“You know,” he whispered into my ear, “I just might take you now.”

“Um, okay” I croaked weakly.

He leaned over me to lower the lamp, and I pulled my leg mightily on the necktie, and it finally ripped away from the foot board. I could then move up to the knotted bathrobe tie that held my wrists and bite at it, pulling it apart with my teeth. He watched as I did this, amused at me, but I worked quickly and got my wrists free from their restraint.

“Nicely done,” he said, admiringly.

“Shut the fuck up,” I said softly, pushing him back and attacking his cock with my mouth. Up and down the shaft my mouth went, but in trying to suck the head in I soon found that it wouldn’t fit at all in its state.

He turned me over, face down, untying the other bathrobe tie that was still on one ankle, and he lifted my butt up and held me by the hips, and It slid into me so slowly and so precisely, like a glacier moving. He held me by my hips, partly for leverage, and partly to keep me from impaling myself on It all at once.

I could hear myself slish as he went in, and I was so sensitive and swollen from before, that it’s tight down there. Very tight; so tight it hurt. Then, as he had It in as much as he could go, he held It there. He held me by my hips, preventing me from moving. He reached under me and found my right nipple, and as he held It buried inside me, he pulled on that nipple with two fingers, stretching it out, not using his thumb, just holding it between his middle and ring finger, letting it pop out between them lazily. He did this three or four times, letting the nipple pop out. He then pulled It out halfway, and positioned his hips so that we were only making contact at one point.

I let go with my hands, and reached down between us to feel that point where we joined. It felt so stretched. I started moving back, then forward, and he held It there for me to use like a toy, and I moved against it and let go totally and buried my face in the pillow and writhed and pushed back, until I felt something bump inside, and I knew there was no more to go, I couldn’t go any further, and I rubbed myself and moved my hips, sort of shimmying my ass up and down, totally being selfish, thinking, well if he’s not even going to try to get himself off, fuck it.

It started to feel like it might be getting sore down there, like it was getting dry or something, and I said, “Something’s hurting.”

He held his hand on the base of my back, and began to withdraw it.

“Noooo!” I cried like the brat that I am, but he got behind me and put his tongue in there, and OHHHH it was so good, like water on a hot griddle.

I came again, very hard, and I thought I may have accidentally wet the bed, but I was too far gone to care.

“Are you done?” he said.

“NO!” I said sharply, then, more gently, “I mean. Not if you’re not!”

I turned over and pulled him to me, and my arms went around him, and my legs went around him, and then I reached between us and put It back where It belonged. It felt so good. The hot sensation was gone and it was just perfect.

He finally took me and he let go, as I buried my face in his chest, watching his stomach muscles clench and flex, as I whispered to him encouragingly, “Take it … take it … you’re so good, so good, so wonderfully good... can I be yours? Let me be all yours,” and he looked at me and said, “you’re mine,” and I rubbed myself and whispered hoarsely ‘vraiment? Encore?’ and he said, ‘toujours’ and I came again as he put my legs over his shoulders and just let go as I had my hand around the base of It; I could feel the pulse of his orgasm bubble up through It and into me, and I thought to myself, whatever happens, I am not going to forget this. Not ever.