the following is my entry for Ruby Kiddell’s #WankWednesday Carnival Of Smut.

well, i couldn’t not join in when the prompt was #squeak now, could i…? 😉

There was a bright yellow post-it stuck to the newel post, when I came home. In bold, black capitals, it bore the terse legend “Bedroom. Strip. Prepare.”
Really, I ought to be used to this sort of thing by now.  But it was still rare enough that I got a little frisson every time he let his inner Dom out to play. Not least because I never quite knew what he had planned.  It was invariably based on something that had come up in conversation since the last time, but my oft-cursed, poor memory would often fail to prepare me.
I had, however, to prepare myself, so dumped my bag in the hall and raced up the stairs, shedding the dry rasp of my frustrating workday as I ascended.

I stripped as I went, so by the time I reached my destination, I was almost naked.  Throwing my clothes into the corner of the room, I turned to the bed.  Laid out were a blindfold and cuffs.  The cuffs were linked by a short chain, and had a note attached, saying “front”.

Quickly, I donned the cuffs, the chain making it easy enough to fasten them around my own wrists, and then fasten the blindfold tightly around my eyes.  No light leaked in through the pads, and I was effectively blinded.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, knees and ankles together, hands on my thighs, spine erect, I waited.

It didn’t take long for the soft shush of footsteps to enter the room.  A hand grasped the chain between my wrists and pulled me to my feet, leading me through the darkness to the centre of the room.  I heard a clink, and my hands were pulled up, and up, until I was standing almost at full stretch under the eyebolt that he had placed in our ceiling as a surprise, one day.

I smiled as I remembered that particular session.

His hands slid from my wrists, down my arms, over my chest, cupping, squeezing, and stroking my breasts, my already hard nipples rubbing deliciously against his palms.  As I let out a soft sigh, one of the hands left my breasts, and then the other.  I heard him step away, and then another muffled clink.

Pressure against my lips.  The smell and texture told me what I needed to know and, obediently, willingly, I opened my mouth for the ball gag that he buckled around my head.  I love and hate that thing.  Love it because of the way it fills my mouth, hate it for the way it makes me drool.  He loves it for both reasons.  He tells me that the sight of a helpless woman with drool-covered tits is one of the most beautiful sights in the world.  So I try to think of that, rather than the stickiness and indignity if drooling on myself.

Having placed the ball gag just so, his hands move away, and I hear another muffled clink.  And then a cuff folds around my ankle, to be buckled tightly.  Parting my legs non-too-gently, he fastens the other ankle to what I now realise is the spreader bar.  At full stretch, if I’m not mistaken.  This, I love.  I love to be held so widely open for him, and yet still so mobile.  It brings another rush of juice to my already wet pussy, a tickling sensation on my outer labia as it begins, slowly, to seep.  He obviously notices this, as his hand slides up my leg to the juncture of my thighs.  I can almost hear him smile as his hand finds me slippery and heated, and he slowly slips his fingers through my slit, over and over, just brushing my clit with each pass.  His touch there is featherlight, but oh-so-electrifying.  I begin to roll my hips as much as I can, stretched out and balancing on my toes as I am, and he responds by slipping two fingers inside me, and resting his thumb on my clit.

As I begin to fuck myself on to his hand, a moan escapes my throat, muffled by the gag.  He presses harder with his thumb, eliciting another muffled moan.

And then, as he begins to pull and pinch one of my nipples, I cannot help the squeak of surprise as another hand snakes around from behind me, and begins stroking and squeezing my other tit, and I feel a warm, naked body press up behind me, his raging erection pressing into the cleft between my buttocks.

I toss my head in a moment’s confusion.  We have talked about this, about bringing another man into our bedroom, but he’s never given any indication that he wanted to take it beyond talking.  Until now.

Another rush of juices starts to trickle down my thigh as the hand in my pussy presses harder, the cock and body behind me presses harder, and I give myself up to the pleasure they are bringing me.  The sensations coursing all over my body bringing moans and whimpers from my throat, the volume increasing.

And then, from the direction of the doorway, I hear a voice.  That of a third person.  His voice, full of love and lust.

“Oh, my darling little slut.  We’re going to have such fun tonight…”

 

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