Kinkmas Morning · Part 2 (2/2)
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As she said this, she sat on the bed and began slowly unwrapping the ribbon around Greg’s genitals, stroking and kneading as she did so. Then she leaned down and said, “And this—is inspiration, too.” She began to give him the slowest, most luxurious blow job she could imagine. She loved feeling him writhe and struggle, trying to push himself further into her yielding mouth, which always moved away. She loved feeling her power over his body, loved hearing him affirm it with his heart-deep moans, groans, and whines.
When she had had enough (but he had not–) she reknotted the blue velvet ribbon around the base of his cock and balls. She straddled his thighs, then mounted him, guiding his straining penis inside her. She held the ends of the ribbon like reins as she rose and sank on his cock, When she thought he was drawing near climax, she halted her motions and pulled strongly on the ribbons, which held off his orgasm. She came dramatically once, and then kept riding him while she stopped him from coming at least three times.
At last, she paused and bent over him, touching the ribbon that gagged him. “I’m going to take the gag off,” she said, “but don’t speak. Not yet.”
Unable to restrain himself, he gasped, “PleaselemmecomegodpleasegottaCOMMME!”
Inwardly pleased that she had reduced her normally stalwart boyfriend to babbling, she hushed him.
“Shh! It wasn’t for that I took the gag off. But, since you feel like begging, at least address me properly. Beg the Goddess to let you come!”
He was panting, and tears were actually puddling in his eyes and streaming down his cheeks.
“Please, Goddess, let me come!” he begged fervently.
Brenda settled herself down over his cock again, grasped the reins firmly, and growled, “Now, man. Come for me now!”
She was almost thrown as Greg thrust up into her, his body bowing off the bed, only touching it at neck and heels, like a tetanus victim. She rode him hard as he bounced and shuddered, trying to corkscrew his hips as best he could as he was bound, trying to grind into her.
She let loose the reins and grasped his waist, letting herself come again as she did so. She threw back her head and laughed triumphantly. This triggered Greg’s orgasm, and he came with a cry that trailed off to a long shuddering moan as he subsided into the bed. Brenda fell forward onto his chest, pressing her breasts into him, and smothered his gasping mouth with kisses.
“There,” she said when she had tasted her fill of him, “That’s what I wanted your mouth for. Now, you may speak, if you wish–.”
“You—you—that was—amazing!” He panted.
“Yes! It was!” she enthused. She slid off his slowly softening cock to his side, and snuggled against him. As she lay by his side gently stroking him, she murmured into his ear the fantasies that she had had during the night, of being taken by him while bound. Sated as she was, she still felt the stirring of new arousal as she spoke, and could tell from the sound of Greg’s deepening breathing and the gradual reviving of his penis, that he was feeling it also.
He said, hoarsely, “That sounds great to me, darling, but I’m not in a position to do anything about it right now.”
“That can be fixed,” Brenda replied. She slid to the foot of the bed and untied his ankles, then back to the head of the bed, and released the ribbon holding him down. “Here, sit up.” She helped Greg to sit on the edge of the bed, and untied and unwrapped the ribbons binding his arms.
He sat for a minute working blood back into his hands, while Brenda knelt behind him, massaging his shoulders. Then, with a roar, he spun around, seized her, and threw her face down in the rumpled bedclothes. In a trice, he was straddling her, pinning her hips down with his weight, and had seized both her wrists in his big hand.
“Mmf! I didn’t mean right now!” Brenda protested.
“But I did!” Greg answered her. “I’ve waited long enough for my present.” He looped the ribbon she had just taken off him around her wrists and tied a quick knot. He began wrapping her arms together. Brenda tried to fight, but she was helpless. Greg had occasionally held her hands while lovemaking, or pinned her to the bed with his weight, but he had never done anything like this before. She could feel his stiff cock pressing into her backside, and knew he was enjoying it. Concealing her grin in the blanket, she knew that she was, too.
Greg threaded a ribbon around and through her upper arms, so that, when he flipped her over and tied it off to the bedstead, her upper body was actually more securely tied to the bed than his had been. He didn’t tie her legs down, instead gagging her. Then, he took another ribbon and wrapped around her head, blindfolding her!
“Nnnn!” she objected, but Greg only chuckled. He snuggled down, half covering her, one leg over her thigh, his foot between her calves holding her legs apart. He began to work on her, lips and teeth on her breasts, fingers on her clit and in her cunt, constantly varying pressure, stroke, area of concentration. Brenda felt she would go mad.
Over the course of what seemed like two hours, Greg brought her to the brink of orgasm and then backed off, she lost count of how many times. Between cursing him, she inwardly marveled at his patience, his discipline, and his skill, just as he in his turn must have been surprised by her power and hunger when the roles were reversed.
At last, he released his grip on her, got up, and stepped away from the bed. She could not hear his bare feet on the carpet. She whined and writhed, as best she could demanding that he return to her. She caught a flash of light under the edges of her blindfold. Pictures! Well, turnabout was fair play, she had to admit, and she was getting well turned about.
Coming back to the bed, he took a firm grip on her left ankle and wrapped ribbon around it. Then he pulled her leg up toward her shoulder and tied it off to the head of the bed. Then he did the same to the right leg.
For the second time in twelve hours, she was tied up, feet in the air, her cunt pointing at the ceiling. This time, however, she was not dismayed, and had, in fact, fervent hopes. She felt Greg’s weight on the foot of the bed, and pictured him advancing on her on hands and knees, like a great cat about to pounce.
“I expect you know what comes next,” he growled.
Brenda thought she did, but she was both right and wrong. She expected, hoped, wished that he was going to fuck her. That he did, but, once he had carefully inserted his cock into her waiting slit, she was astounded by his power. It was like being ravished by a great beast, like being caught in some great engine that pounded and crushed her while driving, driving, driving toward her core.
She came almost at once, but began building to another orgasm before she had even caught her breath. The impulse to orgasm surged higher each time he pushed into her, again and again and again. It was too much! She cried out though the gag, but he didn’t seem to hear over his own grunting and gasping. She tried to writhe, somehow pull away from him, but she was helpless. Without volition, she clenched her core, in a vain attempt to keep him out of her.
This last bit of extra tension put them both over the edge. They both shouted wordlessly as they both came again. Greg seemed to deflate, heaving a great sigh as he subsided onto her breast. Brenda squealed and bounced as best she could to let him know that he was crushing her!
Greg sprang up. “Oh, darling, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” he said. Swiftly and carefully, he released the tension on her ankles, gently lowering each leg, stroking her and crooning to her soothingly as he did so. He undid the ribbon binding her arms to the bed, and embraced her, cuddling her. Brenda, exhausted and overcome with lust and endorphins, lay in his arms like a rag doll, not able to move even had she the will to. After some minutes cuddling and snuggling, Greg helped her to sit up and removed her bonds. Brenda flew at his face with her nails, but in play, and the two of them collapsed together laughing.
“Oh, man–,” Greg groaned. “I’ve never—we’ve never–.”
“I know,” Brenda sighed. “Christmas magic, do you think?”
“Not so much as just inspiration. We think we can, so we can,” he speculated.
“Well–,” Brenda said, “Right now, I think I could eat!”
Greg agreed enthusiastically. For some reason, it didn’t seem quite right to eat Christmas breakfast totally nude, so Brenda snatched up Greg’s shirt and used it as a robe. Greg pulled on his pants, and followed Brenda to her small kitchen area.
Brenda put on coffee, then warmed the cinnamon rolls she had bought. These were a Christmas tradition in her family. As they noshed on the rolls, they both decided they needed more, and worked together to prepare eggs, ham, and toast. It felt wonderful, the most companionable breakfast they’d ever shared.
“So, what did you think when you woke up and found Santa Claus standing over you?” Brenda asked.
“Probably the same thing you did—that I was having one weird-ass dream. When I couldn’t move and he started tossing me around like a sack of laundry, I was sure of it.” Greg replied.
“When did you begin to think otherwise?”
“Oddly enough,” Greg answered, “When we came out of the bedroom and I saw you there. Somehow I knew I was seeing a dream made real. I wanted you so much, I was incredibly frustrated when Santa took me away.”
“And what did you think when he hung you ‘by my fireside with care’?”
“Frankly? That we were so screwed. All I could think of was police or rescue squad bursting in after we’d been reported missing. And that was the good outcome.”
Brenda nodded. “Those were my thoughts, too.”
“How’d you get loose?” Greg asked.
Brenda related how her struggles to escape had worked out. Greg nodded.
“I felt something give, too, must have been about sunrise. I just sank further into that damned stocking, though. There was nothing I could pull or push against, suspended like that.”
Brenda giggled. “Sorry, I had no idea my subconscious was so good at bondage.”
“Your conscious was pretty good at it, too.” Greg smiled.
Done eating, they got up from the table and went back to the living room, and turned on the TV. They snuggled on the sofa while panning across the channels, looking for news. Oddly, there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary, other than that people on screen seemed inordinately cheerful.
“I hope this means that the Christmas magic worked out for everyone,” Brenda declared.
“I don’t know,” Greg mused, “How would we know yet?”
They both pondered for a moment, but then the shadow passed. Greg reached over and touched her thigh.
“Feel like going around again?” he asked.
Brenda flushed. “Yes, yes I do,” she answered. She stood up to move into the bedroom.
“Just a minute,” Greg objected. “I never really got the chance to unwrap my present.” He grinned.
“But that would mean I’d have to get wrapped up again,” Brenda said.
“How about that?” he answered.
Well, fair was fair. Brenda shrugged out of Greg’s shirt, and stood naked.
“Where do you want me?” she asked.
“Right here will do,” Greg said. “I actually think it might help if you stood up while I did your arms.”
Brenda couldn’t argue with that, so turned away from him, and stood with her palms pressed together behind her. Greg had dumped out the pile of red ribbons, and rummaged through them for the longest one. With a bit of coaching from her, he wrapped her arms from wrists to shoulders and tied the ribbon off. Brenda wriggled. She was firmly tied, and somehow, Greg had succeeded in making the bands even tighter than Santa had.
“Let’s see, now sit on the floor.” Greg assisted her in getting down to the carpet, and then tied her knees up to her chest. Next, he tied her ankles, and then put the second wrapping outside her legs. There were two red ribbons left.
“Next, the one tying wrists to ankles, then you can gag me—mmf!” Brenda was cut off.
“No, gag first, my dear,” Greg murmured into her ear. Then, he took her and gently repositioned her from the sitting to a kneeling position, so that she was facing the floor. She shook her head, no, as he caressed her exposed ass, and slid fingers into her waiting cunt.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have shared this thought with me, but, far be it from me to deny my love any desire.” He kept working fingers and thumb in and out of her, playing with her clitoris also. Brenda struggled, but she could barely move. She attempted to grab at him with her bound hands, but Greg easily took control of them and held them out of the way while he mounted her.
Brenda was outrageously turned on. She was even more helpless than she had been in the bed, more of an object—yes, a package—than before. She could only moan blissfully through her gag as Greg fucked her just as slowly as he could. After her first orgasm, he gave up control and ravished her as fast and hard as he could, until they both came.
He pulled out at last, leaving Brenda gasping and panting. She gave a little whine as he cinched the hog-tie between her wrists and ankles, but there was nothing she could do. She was surprised when Greg gently gathered her into his arms, and lifted her up. When he set her back down, she was in the sitting position again.
There was a whisper of fabric as Greg pulled the Christmas stocking up over her. “Mmm-mm!” she protested, to no avail. He pulled the stocking top up over her head, and she could feel him knotting it closed.
“I have to admit, the stocking thing seemed like a good idea,” Greg said. With one surge of effort, he lifted Brenda into the air, and wrapped the top around the hook in the mantelpiece so that the knot held it there. Brenda was left hanging in the nylon bag, tipped at bit of an angle. Through the black mesh she could see the floor a scant inch or so away from her toes. Wriggling, she could cause herself to bob and twist a bit, but each movement made the stocking conform more closely to her and took out slack, so that she was ever more securely trapped.
She had just given in to her dilemma and relaxed, when there was a flash. Greg was taking pictures of her, wrapped like a package, and hanging in a stocking.
“Sauce for the goose!” he chortled. “No one else will ever see this, I swear—but I will look at it a lot!”
She made a querulous noise, which he correctly interpreted.
“Oh, I’ll let you out—when I feel like it. Now, let’s see—wasn’t there a football game on?” He teasingly settled down on the couch with the TV remote.
Brenda sighed. This wasn’t comfortable, but she couldn’t complain-much. It had, after all, been a wonderful Christmas so far—and it wasn’t over yet!
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Kinkmas Morning · Part 2 (2/2)
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