|Blogs > CB_2 > I admit, I like to be spanked|
The New Bed - fiction
The New Bed - fiction
“Mmmmmm!” my lover grins at me as he experimentally bounces on the firm mattress belonging to my new bed. He laughingly calls it the Dreadnought, because I’ve deliberately bought a rock solid iron frame bed. Nothing to do with the decor, and everything ‒ absolutely everything ‒ to do with my sex life.
I climb on the bed beside him and lie back, grabbing hold of the iron bars above my head. I grin back at him. Oh, the possibilities are endless!
We can’t help ourselves ‒ within minutes, we are both naked and bouncing around on the mattress, proving beyond a doubt that this little baby is certainly not going to creak and wobble alarmingly when we really get going. Oh no, this bed is going to be worth its weight in gold.
Very soon, I’m getting to the stage where I am desperate for him to fill me, to slide himself inside me. I know I should hold off to maximise our pleasure, but I don’t want to. I’ve never been very good with patience. I want to feel him inside my pussy, grabbing my buttocks as he pushes into me, with me grinding down onto his cock.
I slide my body over his and try to manoeuvre myself above him. It’s so wet down there, I’m not going to need any hands to slip him into my hot hole. It’ll just find its way there by auto pilot.
But abruptly he stops me, and gets up off the bed. “Lie on your front and close your eyes” he commands me. I do as I’m told, wondering where this is leading.
A few moments later, I feel him tickle my arse with something light and silky. I gasp: scarves ‒ he’s brought scarves! The thought registers between my thighs. Dutifully, I keep my eyes closed, smiling as he starts to tie my wrists to the iron bars at the head of my new bed. He tucks a third scarf between my legs, and I feel myself starting to soak it.
Then, he pulls my legs apart and starts to tie these as well, this time to the bars at the base of the bed. Now I’m spreadeagled on my front, unable to move, with a scarf pressed against my pussy. He rubs it firmly with his hand, to make me wet it even more. I oblige.
Finally, he blindfolds me with the scarf that has been marinating between my thighs. The smell of my arousal assaults my nostrils, which only increases it.
He walks off to the kitchen and I hear him opening the fridge door. I smile knowingly.
My fridge is normally fairly empty when he comes, often the only thing in there being a bottle of champagne chilling. Today, there is also a bowl, on which I have taped a label marked ice cubes. At his request, I hasten to add.
He comes back through and I can hear the chink of the ice cubes in the glass bowl. “Guess what I found in the fridge?” he casually asks me. I pretend ignorance, but gasp in sudden surprise as his hands reach down under my body and grab my breasts. They are cold and wet from the ice water.
My nipples react immediately. Treacherous bastards.
He laughs mockingly and brings his hands back out to pick up a couple of ice cubes, one for each hand. He lazily trails them down my back, from my shoulder blades to my buttocks. I start to pull against the scarves. It’s so cold, so sensuous.
Then, he runs the ice cubes along the line of my buttocks, so they meet at the point just behind my pussy. I feel everything contract in excitement.
He is so near to my arse, and yet so far. Always, he refuses me that pleasure, even though he knows how I long for it.
The ice cubes slide forward to my pussy, and he rubs them against my lips, sending shock waves of pleasure up through my body. I groan in disappointment at him moving away from my arse, but in pleasure at what he is doing with my pussy lips. God, he knows how to tease me!
He kneels on the bed behind me, between my spreadeagled legs, and suddenly pushes both ice cubes ‒ now a fraction of their original size ‒ inside my pussy. He presses the heel of his hand over my pussy lips to keep them in until they melt, his palm and fingers spreading over my pubic bone. I try to grind into his hand.
He chuckles, and then I feel him lifting me slightly with the hand which cups my pubic mound. I go with it, as far as I can, which isn’t far, given how securely he has tied me.
I feel his head reach down near to my buttocks, the warmth of his breath as he opens his mouth to whisper close to my cunt.
“You are the biggest tease known to man, and I should punish you for that."
"But,” and he pauses, to allow his tongue to snake out and
‒ oh ... my ... God! -
flick up the valley from the back of my pussy to my arse, “I find myself wanting to reward you instead.” And down comes his tongue again along the same route.
My God, how I moan. I have waited months for this, begged and hoped and been disappointed time and time again as he has refused to lick my arse. I feel weak at the double pleasure it brings, knowing that he is doing this for me even though it is not (yet!) his thing at all.
He lightly bites my buttocks in random places, occasionally replacing the bites with little licks. I quiver in anticipation of his tongue going back to where I want it most. He tickles it awhile at the point where my buttock cheeks start to cleft, and then gradually meanders south, this time circling my arse hole a number of times. I mumble incoherently.
I feel his smile against my buttocks, and wonder if he’s starting to get off on this now. Surely he must have balked against the idea of licking pussy once, until he did it for the first time, and realised how great it was? I breathe in deeply, hoping that today’s fun means he’s now converted to the joys of analingus. If only I could get him to allow me to do it to him, I know he would be a total convert!
His hand cupping my pussy moves, and two of his fingers slip up inside me, probing my vaginal walls until he finds my g-spot. I squirm with pleasure as he gently rubs it, while his tongue again flicks around my arse.
Within seconds, I am like a volcano ready to explode.
“Ahhhhhh! .... oh fuck!” I cry out, as my orgasm breaks free. I can feel the spasms around his fingers as I come. Still he licks me and rubs his fingers in and out of me.
Suddenly, my orgasm over, I go all sensitive. Now I need him out of there, to leave me a moment to recover. I try to wriggle away from him, “No ‒ it’s too sensitive! Stop!” He ignores me and carries on as if I have said nothing. It is torture for a moment, but I know what he is doing ‒ if he just carries on, I will come again in a few moments, probably even harder than before...
And, yes, he’s right, because here it comes again, that delicious tenseness as my synapses get ready to ping once more. “Oh God!” I cry out, “I’m coming!”
And of course, I do. All over my lovely new bed.
Blogito ergo sum.
9/9/2006 4:42 pm
OHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my! How so deliciously descriptive!|
9/10/2006 1:39 am
glad to see your creativity has returned.|
9/11/2006 1:17 pm
A new bed.......champagne.......ice cubes........& your imagination - Clearly a heady mix !! (Could probably "Modify" that story just slightly !)|
9/11/2006 4:53 pm
Hai Caramba! CB2 you're really on form! See! If you'd bought that rubber sheet there wouldn't be that tide mark on your brand new mattress! |
9/12/2006 1:12 am
Gawd ! Struth !! My roo fur blanket couldnt take that sorta treatment |