Stockholm Syndrome

(This post describes some rather intense and potentially unsafe bondage techniques. Don't try them yourself, I am an experienced sub and was with a very experienced dom. Be safe.)

I experienced something new recently. That's unusual.

I've been experimenting with bondage and ancillary forms of kink for roughly 25 years now. No, I am not that old. I started as a (young) teenager, so stop trying to calculate my age.

In those years I have experienced a wide variety of things, and have gotten to the point where there isn't very much that is truly new. I was put on a pau de arara a couple of years ago, before the pandemic; suspended with my legs and arms over a bar, hanging exposed and used by two men. That was new, very intense, and as a result very exciting (not to mention painful and stressful).

Otherwise, most of my experiences in the past few years are variations on things I've done before, and the pandemic has limited opportunities significantly.

I think my life has been forever changed by the pandemic. I seriously wonder if I will ever return to as active a lifestyle of kink as I had before.

That said, kink is in my blood and I've been getting back into it, much to the delight of some of my play partners. My dom had welcomed me back with open arms (and other body parts).

I even ventured out with a new dominant, someone that was known to me as a friend of friends, who was known for being imaginative and ruthless when it came to tying women up. Just up my alley.

Because we didn't know each other, we met in a public place and discussed our mutual interest. Each of us was sizing up the other. 

This is an extremely common practice in the community. It looks and feels a lot like a first date. In a way, it is. But the couple isn't talking about dating, they are checking each other out to see whether they can come to terms about some kinky sex with no ties.

I went over my limits (which are actually pretty loose and mostly involve making sure things are safe, that there are no permanent effects of whatever happens, no cameras, and that kind of thing). He went over his style and described what he liked (tying women up and using them).

It turned out this guy was a lot better looking and more fit than my current dom. Nothing against the guy I play with most of the time, but this new one (we will call him Orlo), is handsome and fit. We hit it off and decided on a date and time for us to play.

I always get nerves before a scene with a new dom. But that's part of the fun. Fear. Plain old fear, it heightens the senses, makes one more sensitive. It's the the fear of the unknown. What will he do to me? How much pain, how long, what parts will be unexpected? Will I suffer, or beg to be released, or beg for his cock?

Strangely (or perhaps not so strangely) the sense of fear also makes me wet. I've done this hundreds of times, but I still react with fear and tension.  I get hyper aware of my body reactions, my muscles and flesh and the sensitive parts of my body like nipples, clit, anus, lips, whatever part of my body I think he may pay attention to. This happens long before the scene starts, before I've arrived at his place.

There were some things I knew about what would happen. He loves shibari and is proficient at it; something my current dom is not. This is one of the reasons I sought him out. I love being tied tightly, immobile and helpless. It's the core of my kink. This guy was capable of doing it, and I knew the scene would undoubtedly push my limits in terms of being tied up securely.

Before leaving for his place (which was not close to where I lived and involved a long drive) I gave myself the usual enema. You never know what will happen in scenes; even scenes that don't involve ass play can get intense enough that some control is lost. I've had... accidents.

I also make sure I am hydrated and pee before arrival. 

There's often a need to pee during longer scenes, and doms handle it differently, anywhere from forcing the pee out wherever you are at the moment (resulting in a mess), to providing a bucket, to allowing me to go in a toilet.  I don't do water sports (a limit), but when you are in the middle of a scene and tell your dom you have to pee... well, the results are often not what I would want. So I empty myself as much as possible before any scene.

(I had one dom that forced me to drink a lot of water, in the hopes of filling my bladder. It worked. Another story.)

Some guys have told me they try to manage their cums, their orgasms. For example, guys will masturbate before a date so they aren't all horny during it. Some say they will abstain for a while before they think they are going to have sex so they have more semen, or it is easier to cum. I have no idea if this is true or whether it works, I sort of accept what they say but that all seems foreign to me; I can masturbate right before a scene, go in and have orgasms during the scene without a problem. If I am horny, I am horny. Then again, I am multi-orgasmic.

Anyway, I masturbated before going over to his place, actually while I was giving myself the enema.

I've had dozens (hundreds?) of enemas in my life, during scenes but mostly before them, and they've taken on a sensual and sexual connotation for me. Enemas now work almost as well as vibrators and nipple clamps to get me horny and enhance my ability to cum. The feeling of the nozzle inserting, spreading my sphincter, pushing and sliding in, being forced into my anus and rectum is arousing. I have a long nozzle I use and I like it going in the length of my rectum. 

Once impaled, I wait a moment then unclip the hose and feel the water gushing in, filling me up, expanding and distending me-- it's so fucking arousing, I almost can't help but masturbate.

Sometimes the enema (especially if I am doing a larger one) will cause cramping. I don't like pain, but the cramps are part of the experience and pain to be endured (while masturbating).

I sometimes wonder if I ever had to have a barium enema whether I'd be turned on as hell. Probably.

My girlfriend was home when I did this, and of course she knew where I was going and what I was doing, so she actually watched me from the hall as I dumped a load of warm water into my bowels, masturbated to an orgasm, then sat on the toilet and expelled. She laughed and made fun of me, then left. For a submissive, she sure can be dominant at times.

I drove to his place. It took a long time, he isn't that local to me. I listened to music on the way and felt good. I felt healthy, alive. I was driving to have a kinky sexual liaison with a new guy I'd never known before and it made me feel good.

His place was nice, on a larger lot and somewhat secluded. I parked under a tree on the drive and wondered if he ever used some of the outdoor area for bondage sessions. Then I realized I knew he had because I had seen photos of him with a tied up girl hanging from a branch over a stream while he pushed her head down into the water, up and down... up and down.

My heart skipped a beat and I went to his door and rang the bell. Orlo greeted me immediately (not his real name), letting me in. I felt my heart beating in my chest. He was as handsome as I remembered, and I was aroused from all my preparations and anticipation. I wanted him on top of me, inside me, fucking me. 

Orlo's greeting was short, almost brusque. Different than in the coffee shop. He had entered his dominant persona. I was his submissive, come to relinquish control to him, to give him power over me. I bowed my head and followed him. Being aroused helped me take on my submissive role.

"Undress. Put your clothes over there. Remove everything."

He watched as I stripped.

I continued to be struck by the fact Orlo is a good looking guy, only slightly older than myself and with a good body. Under other circumstances, in another time, I'd go for him. As in, date him. Not just let him fuck me, but actually see if we could have a relationship. (I'm currently in a relationship with another woman, so that's out of the question, but I still thought about it.)

As it was he simply sat and watched me strip with his arms folded, observing as various parts of my body became visible. I dress comfortably for any session, even if the clothes come off quickly, you never know when the scene will start out clothed and it is best to wear loose clothing.

My top came off first, then my jeans. These two items bared most of my flesh of course and I could immediately feel the exposure and vulnerability. The air in the room was cool and I felt it on my exposed skin.

Next my bra. My breasts sagged a little when released, they are rather large. Men like them. They like to do things to them.

My panties next, and I was naked before him. I always have the urge to cover myself when standing in front of a new man for the first time, especially if he is clothed and evaluating my body. I resisted the urge, and stood before him, letting him examine me with his eyes.

"Very nice," He said and walked next to me, his hands sliding along my bare flesh. His fingers began touching, sliding and probing me.

There's something about stripping and being naked in front of someone else who is clothed that is nerve wracking. I really get off on feeling vulnerable, and standing in front of him as his fingers explored me and probed, slowly finding more and more private places, was exciting me. 

And he could tell I was excited because his fingers reached between my legs and slid along the outside of my lips, sliding on the moistness there. 

I let him feel me, rather enjoying it, feeling a bit dehumanized and manipulated. It was OK. I would not have objected to Orlo throwing me down on a bed, forcing my legs apart and ramming himself into my cunt right at that moment.

Actually, come to think of it, I probably would have preferred that to his careful and somewhat humiliating examination of my body.

But his fingers were probing in sensitive areas and I couldn't help it. My body shied away, moved. I tried to simply stand and let him invade me any way he wished, but it was hard.

"Let's get started, shall we?" Orlo said. "You clearly need to be restrained."

He moved behind me, took my arms back and pressed my wrists together. This is it, I thought. The moment when I let myself be tied up and am at his mercy. Prior to this moment I could have run. But the moment he tied me, I was helpless and at his mercy. Or rather, at his whim.

It happened remarkably fast. Before I knew it, he had rope around my wrists. Good, flexible rope, rope tightly wound and holding my wrists together with no possibility of wriggling out. He was using some sort of conditioned jute, or maybe hemp, but probably jute.

And just like that, my wrists were tied behind my back and I was forced onto my knees.

Leaning down, he kissed me. On the lips. Holding my breast, he kissed me and let me know by his actions that my body was his, that it was his to play with, take pleasure from, but also that he appreciated my body. 

He fondled me more but quickly pushed me down onto my stomach. I wasn't resisting him, but he put his knee on my lower back, on my hips, to keep me in one place.

The rope he'd used on my wrists was long, and the extra length quickly went around my elbows, cinching and pulling them together. Elbows touching behind the back requires a little flexibility and you can't be overweight. Fortunately I am still flexible and have not gained much as I have grown older. Even so, I grunted involuntarily as he yanked and pulled the elbows back with the rope.

My arms and wrists were now bound tightly behind my back.

This tie allowed me to roll around some, even sit up with some effort. I rolled onto my back, wriggled and struggling. The ropes were tight. Very right. There was no way I could get out of them. But because they were conditioned they were not cutting off circulation. I managed to get up in a seated position and turned to watched what Orlo was doing.

One thing about being tied up is your hair gets all over your face and you can't get it out. Especially if you are sweaty at all (which happens a lot) it can get in the face and stick there. Which is why I always start out with my hair in a pony tail.

The next thing he did was remove my pony tail, letting my long brunette hair fall down over my shoulders. I swore at him and he laughed.

He pushed me with his foot (not kicked) and I fell over onto my side, then rolled to my stomach.

Moments later he had my ankles bound together as tightly as my wrists and elbows, and all I could do was wriggle on the floor.

Orlo was actually nice to his subs; his floor was covered with rubber mats. This makes it easier to clean up body fluids (remember why I gave myself an enema) as well as preventing some injuries from falls, thumps, drops, tips and the like. They were also warmer than concrete or tile, which I've wriggled around on more than once.

His next step was predictable. I was in a hogtie and he would be pulling my legs in behind me.  I felt him wrapping a length of rope around my already secured ankles. then up to my... neck?

Yeah, my neck.

Oh fuck, I said. Out loud, I think. I wasn't gagged (yet) so I could have called my safe word, but I didn't. I try very hard not to, and I don't prohibit breath play. Strangulation is borderline limit though, and I felt the rope circle my neck several times, running back and forth to my ankles. This wasn't just breath play, this would cut off blood flow if he were to tighten it.

There was nothing I could do about it. My arms were completely immobile, and my legs were tied and being pulled up behind me by the neck rope. I was helpless and I began to panic.

(Note that the rope around my neck was not a noose that slid tight when pulled. It was knotted and stayed loose.)

Reminding myself that this was what I liked, it is what I wanted, I counted and relaxed and felt the wave of helplessness come over me and embraced it. This was why I was here. To let him do stuff to me. Stuff I didn't expect and couldn't stop. 

I made a gurgling noise, but found I could breathe OK. The whole tie was very uncomfortable, just as it was supposed to be. 

Now, I have to say there's relatively little dialogue in this story because there wasn't much in the session. There was some initial greeting, his ordering me to strip, a few exchanges when he first started to take control. But once he had me tied, there was no more conversation. Noise in the room was mostly me breathing, panting, the thumps of my body falling over, the sound of rope sliding against rope, grunts as things got more restrictive and me swearing a few times as I realized what was happening. 

The rope was pressing against my neck, and I quickly found that if I pushed my legs back, bending backward, it relieved the pressure. Just a couple of inches helped loosen the hold on my neck. Blood flowed more freely and I breathed easier.

As soon as I loosened it, Orlo tightened it. My legs were bent further back, the tension on the rope increased and my head pounded again. 

I wriggled and strained to bend my legs back again, and once again he tightened the rope. But what choice did I have? I could resist his tightening, but then I would be pulling against the noose around my neck. I had to keep trying to loosen the ligature around my neck. Each time I did, he took advantage and tightened the rope just a little more until I was bent backward in an almost O shape. Reversed.

I panicked again. The rope was tight around my neck and my breath was raspy, and any movement of my body caused it to dig in deeper.

This was exactly what he wanted.

My body was strained almost to its limits. I couldn't use my muscles to bend back any further. The rope was putting pressure on my neck, making me choke, slowing blood flow, but not enough to actually choke me out or knock me unconscious. At least, not while I used every muscle I had to keep myself curved backwards.

As soon as I relaxed any muscle in my back the pressure increased on my neck.

Fuck... I gurgled.

I flopped over to my side, it was easier that way. My body lay on the matts, and they helped keep my body and legs bent backwards.

He rolled me back on my stomach and reached between my legs.

I realized now why he had not tied my knees together. Ankles could be bound, but knees left untied meant they could be spread, giving him access to my cunt. And he accessed, with his fingers, penetrating and finger fucking me as I tried my best not to choke.

The safe word floated before me, but I refused to use it. Maybe I was dumb, but I want, I crave these experiences and if I use the safe word whenever it gets hairy, nothing will ever happen. My limits will never be approached. So I strained and concentrated on breathing and felt him finger fucking me all the while.

After a minute of his fingers deep inside my cunt, deep enough they reached and stroked my cervix, he stopped and left. I flopped over again, feeling the relieve of having the matts support my position, able to breathe a little better.

When he returned he had a head harness with panel gag. He slipped it over my head and buckled it on, then rolled me onto my stomach again.

I could no longer swear, fuck... but I moaned and panted. I was under a lot of stress, my body was in an extreme predicament bondage position, and I was suffering. 

I kept flopping onto my side, he kept rolling me back over onto my stomach. There was little I could do about that, either, the restrained position didn't allow me much movement at all. My body just did what he wanted.

So I stayed there on my stomach, watching as Orlo sat down in front of me. He wanted me to see what he was doing next. He had a knife (twinge in my stomach upon seeing it), and some sort of weird thing that looked like a wobbly root. He began cutting the root thing with his knife, as if whittling it.

Five seconds later I realized what it was. Ginger root. He was whittling it into shape, cutting it into a smoother, curved bulb shape. An ass plug. 

Orlo was figging me.

Figging is the practice of skinning a ginger root then shoving up some poor soul's ass. In this case, the poor soul was me.

Orlo wanted me to watch what he was doing, while I suffered in that awful stress position, trying not to choke. He carefully cut the root into the shape of a plug with a narrow spot for the sphincter to clutch, and a wider plug that would be harder to push out.

There was a point to his doing it right then; ginger root loses its stinging quality over time, The fresher it is, the more recently it has been cut, the more it burns. He was showing me what he was going to do to me and letting me think about it, and making sure it would be as effective as possible.

When he was satisfied by its shape he rose and walked around behind me. 

The panel gag was wet now from my drool (it had a bulb plug that went into my mouth which also caused a lot of drooling) and dribbling down my chin. My back was cramping, as were my thighs. My shoulders had started cramping a long time before. I was in pain and panting and still straining to make sure the rope didn't cut off my air or blood flow (he checked me frequently to make sure I wasn't turning purple).

As mentioned before, my knees were free, not bound to each other. They were the only part of me not tied tightly, and for a purpose, Orlo now pushed them apart, exposing my cunt and ass. I expected  him to ram the ginger root home, forcing it into my anus, but it didn't happen, not right away.

I felt something sharp; it felt almost like a needle. At first I thought it was a needle and I yelped into my gag, though after a moment I could tell it wasn't puncturing the flesh. I couldn't quite tell what it was other than it hurt. It was poking once side of an ass cheek, and a second later came another sharp pain opposite to the first.

Later I figured out he was using sticks, sort of like large toothpicks, to spread my ass cheeks and keep them open so he could access my anus.

It may not seem like much, but trust me that toothpicks and the like can hurt like a bitch when applied to sensitive skin. It feels like the flesh is being pierced even when it isn't. I cried out and moaned and tried to wriggle away, which was hopeless of course.

After spreading my ass, he inserted a finger into my anus, moving it around, loosening me up. An anus is initially very tight and can be difficult to insert things into without working it some. He could use lube, but the lube would act as a shield against the ginger oils he wanted to burn my ass with, so no lube.

He worked my anus, digging his finger around, stretching and getting the muscles relaxed and wider. That all sounds very nice but it was like getting raped, having this guy shove his finger into my asshole and finger fuck me. 

Of course, I could do nothing about it, which was the point. If I clenched my ass cheeks at all the sticks spreading them wide would dig in and it hurt like hell, so I was trying to relax my ass cheeks which in turn relaxed my anus.

The ginger went in easily and I was figged. The expected burning started within a few seconds and grew. I swore into the panel gag and moaned. Ginger root is not the most painful thing that can happen, but it does burn quite a bit, and keeps burning.

He had chosen a large root, so my anus was spread, my rectum was filled, and the external part of the root was a big clump between my ass cheeks.

Thank goodness her removed the sticks that were used to force my ass cheeks apart at that point. All that was left as that lump of burning pain. It felt like I was trying to shit out a giant poop that had was soaked with hot sauce, and should have been burning diarrhea if the shit hadn't been so big and hard and absolutely refused to come out.

I think I'd been in that predicament / stress position for a half hour or so, enough to break anyone. My mind was turning to jelly and I was wondering if I should use my safe word before I lost the ability to talk. Fortunately, Orlo eased up on me about then. It's a sign of a good dom that he is aware of a girl's limits and ability to take abuse, and while I am pretty difficult to break the constant choking combined with the cramping was getting to me.

Orlo released the neck rope and I flopped down into a prone position, breathing, panting heavily. The relief wasn't so much in breathing, though. I was breathing before, it had just come at the price of the rest of my body pushing itself into a very unnatural and painful position. 

My legs were no longer strained, my back straightened and my entire body shook with relief. The ginger burned, but I could deal with that. It wasn't that bad. (I did try pushing it out at that point. I thought I might get it out but never did. He'd done a good job of cutting a plug shape.)

How I felt right then is an example of why I do this to myself (or let others do it). At that moment there was no world. There was nothing that existed beyond about three feet around me. Mostly there was just me, my body, the sensations in my body, the restriction, the vulnerability, the massive sensations that I had been experiencing, my tormentor, my desire to survive and endure, and yes, a significant amount of pleasure. Endorphins had surged in my body and I was high on them. 

I was given perhaps five minutes to recover before he started again.

My ass was burning badly from the ginger root and it was a tremendous mental relief when he removed it. Of course, that didn't stop the burning. My anus felt like it was on fire. It would probably continue to burn for a half hour or so, and slowly subside.

I felt my hair being grabbed and my head pulled back. My neck stretched and was exposed and shoulders lifted up off the mats just a little. The leather straps of a head harness flopped over my head and face, and Orlo forced my mouth open for a ring gag. Break time was over.

The head harness was a secure one; some can be loose and slip; this one had several straps, including an inverted V over the eyes and nose, straps across the cheeks to a buckle behind, and chin straps to keep it stable in front. The ring spread my jaw wide open, wide enough I felt the strain in the muscles. I hoped it wouldn't be on too much because spreading the jaw open too wide can cause some serious cramps and pains. Not that Orlo would care, of course.

Once on, my head wasn't allowed to flop back down, he held it pulled back and I could feel him threading rope through D rings on the top. Great... the rope was attached to my ankles and my body was back in the position it had been ten minutes before. curved back on itself in a sickening, muscle-straining reversed O. The only difference was it wasn't choking me. It wouldn't take long for the cramping to return, even if I wasn't straining to relieve the neck pressure as I was before.

He cinched my head back, pulling my feet and head harness back toward each other. Lovely. More endurance bondage. I wasn't even thinking about how long I had been there, or how much more there would be. This was my world now, tied and immobile, bent in unnatural and humiliating positioned, exposed for this man to do as he pleased.

I lay on my stomach in this position for a minute or two, grunting and moaning softly. My tormenter had pulled his cock out; the first I had seen it so far. It was a nice cock. Large, but not too large. And very hard. He stroked it idly while looking at me suffering for a while, but eventually got up to do something behind me, where I couldn't see him.

After flopping me to my side I felt his fingers probing and spreading my pussy lips. My legs automatically closed, and he forced them apart again.

"Don't make me use a spreader," he said. "I will have access, whether you like it or not."

"Yeah. I knew this. It was just an automatic reaction, closing my legs to protect my most vulnerable parts. I let him spread them again, because even more tight bondage wasn't going to help me any.

Something artificial pressed against my clit. Round. Metal or plastic. I have limit when it comes to my clit; stimulate it all you want (please) but do not damage it. No clamps, needles, hot wax or anything like that. My clit is too important to me. Use it, don't abuse it.

So when I felt this thing I immediately got worried. If it was a vibrator or something, cool. But what was it... it felt different... not something I was familiar with...

Suddenly my clit felt stretched, pressured, pulled, sucked... he was pumping something and my clit and the flesh around it were being sucked into a tube. It was a clit sucker, a small suction tube that pulled the flesh in. I knew what they were but had never seen (or felt) one before.

With the ring gag spreading me wide I couldn't really talk to I started making a "yayaahhhayuaaa" noise. He kept pumping and I felt my clit getting engorged-- forcibly engorged. I mean, I was as aroused as hell and it was already erect and engorged, but this thing... wow... it sucked it up and made it bigger and... I don't know how to describe the feeling. It wasn't terribly painful. Uncomfortable, especially when he pumped it some more and it felt like he was sucking my whole cunt into that tiny tube.  But yeah... it was just an incredibly different sensation.

I couldn't see what he was doing, but could tell he really sucked my clit hard. I whimpered, and begged (though with the gag in I doubt he understood anything), "please... no more... no more..."

He paused then pumped some more and I whimpered and begged for him to stop. 

He wiggled and yanked on the tube, which meant my distended and engorged clit was yanked and wiggled. I in turn writhed; moving my hips and jerked around as best I could in a futile attempt to get away from what he was doing.

It made no difference. My clit was throbbing now, I could feel the pulse in it, and he was jerking it around and weirdly, it felt like I might cum... 

He let go, leaving my clit in the tube, and moved around to in front of me.

Kneeling, he slid his hard cock into my artificially spread mouth. My jaw was forced open so wide my lips didn't even touch his cock as it slid in; just my tongue then the roof of my mouth.

Then my throat.

I gagged. His cock went past my tongue and into my throat, pressing against the soft tissue and expanding, filling my esophagus. My throat muscles clenched around his cock. He liked that, because I heard him moan. His cock slid deep enough my stomach rebelled and clenched, and I had to try and stop the vomit from coming up. I made the typical "she's got a cock deep inside her throat" noise.

When he pressed in all the way it cut off my air. My stomach rebelled against that too, trying to breathe but I couldn't. Fortunately that only lasted a couple of seconds before he pulled back and let me breathe. Only for half a second though, before he thrust again and went deep.

In and out. Hard, fast.

I had been drooling for some time now, first with the panel gag and later the ring gag. A puddle had formed beneath my head, and was slowly expanding.

Now, with his cock in my mouth, the puddle rapidly expanded. I was drooling all over, unable to keep any of my body fluids in check, The saliva puddle was mixed with just a little stomach fluid, slime that was regurgitated when he thrust the deepest. That crap burned and felt terrible.

I prayed for him to be done quickly. Let him cum in my throat, I will swallow and he will stop. Or let him shoot his load onto my face, into my eyes, whatever. Just let me breathe more consistently, let me stop the constant urge to regurgitate.

But it went on and on. This guy could control his cums, and he was using me and letting me know it. I was his, to do with as he pleased, and if he wanted to throat fuck me for an hour, he could do it.

I couldn't even attempt talking, or making any noise except the 'erg... erg... ergh.... erg... erg..." sloppy gurgle of his cock spreading my throat. There was no choice but to just lay there on my stomach and try not to barf everything up.

I honestly don't know how long he went. Longer than most guys that have face fucked me. Harder than most. It might have been five minutes, it might have been fifteen. It seemed like an eternity. But finally his breathing got harder and he grabbled my head and pushed harder, deeper. My face must have turned cherry red as he left his cock in all the way then, so deep I thought it was reaching my lungs. He'd slip it back out then deep again, leaving it there. Then out for a second and in for ten seconds, deep. I knew he was coming, I could feel his cock pulsing, the muscles contracting in my mouth and throat.

He let out one long moaning grunt, followed by swearing. "OH..... fuck... oh fuck...." He was cumming. His cock pulsed and contracted, five, six, seven times... and he left it deep. I was wriggling, trying to move to get some air. He wouldn't let me. My body, as tightly bound as it was, strained and wriggled but he held my head right there with both hands, even after he had cum.

Finally he backed out and an ounce of vomit followed his cock. I rolled over to me side, gasping, breathing.

His pants were down but he was still clothed. I eyed him, my eyes rolling in my head as if I was delirious. Eyelids half closed. Gasping from my wide open mouth. Breathing slowly coming under control.

As I did this he moved his cock to my face and smeared it over my cheeks, nose, eyes. Most of the cum had just gone down my throat, I hadn't even tasted it. I knew he had cum because of the way he was grabbing me and thrusting, and the contractions of his cock. I just swallowed the best I could. But he had more cum that drizzled onto my face and he took some of the slime from my stomach and smeared it over me with his cock. I was a sticky mess.

I lay exhausted and was grateful that guys crashed after cumming. I had a respite, I'd forgotten safe words, I didn't even think about this ever ending, I was totally in the here and now and was just grateful I was breathing again.

The fact Orlo had cum was rewarding, somehow, weirdly. I wanted him to cum. It made me feel as if all this pain and suffering had a purpose, even if that purpose was getting Orlo off.

Slowly, the other abuses to my body were coming back to me. My ass still burned from the ginger root, though not as badly. My clit was throbbing worse; it felt like I had a massive infection in my clit. It ached.

After resting for a bit, Orlo removed the head harness and rope that pulled my head back toward my ankles, which allowed me to straighten into a somewhat more normal position again. I hadn't realized how much my back, shoulders and hips had been aching.

"Thank you," I said to him once my mouth was free. 

"Don't thank me yet," he said with a cruel grin. I cringed, but he wiped my face off with a wet towel. His cum and my vomit would not crust on my face, which was nice of him.

His attentions went back to my clit and the clit pump.

"Let's get this off, shall we?" he said and began tugging. The thing was on there with some pretty strong suction and he tugged and twisted and pulled, all of which made it hurt and ache more and I grunted and cried out.

Finally he just pulled. And pulled My clit was stretching out, it felt like it was going to be torn off, literally ripped from my cunt and I cried out again.

Suddenly with a slight pop, it came off.

The relief was tremendous, though I immediately realized the sensations were not over. My clit and clitoral hood and surrounding area was still throbbing and when I closed my legs I could tell they were very sensitive, as if they had been rubbed with sand paper or something. They were engorged with blood, the clit three our four times larger than normal, and that made it extremely sensitive.

Orlo wasn't done with me. I was still tied and helpless, though no longer in the extreme, arched back position that was so stressful. Orlo gently took one side of me and rolled me over onto my back. My ankles were still tied to my wrists, but knees were free and spread naturally.

Orlo kissed me gently on the lips (my heart melted for a moment). He then moved and sat between my legs, pushing them wide apart and scooted up so he was sitting between my bent knees; I couldn't close them because he was in the way.

Next thing I felt I knew, but had never felt it quite like it.

Clit vibrators are small things, designed to vibrate at a high speed, directly on top of the clit. The simplest form is just an electric toothbrush like a Sonicare. To be completely open, I actually use the back of an electric toothbrush on my clit at times. Not one I use to clean my teeth, but an old one I replaced and now use strictly as a vibrator.

These kinds of clit vibrators drive me insane. My clit is sensitive and usually needs some lighter stimulation to warm it up before I actually start rubbing it directly. Eventually I get to the point where I can put it directly on my clit, moving it around in a circular motion, and it stimulates me about as directly, intensely and quickly as anything. I cum quickly with these things, and the cums are intense.

Well, Orlo had a clit vibrator. He put it directly on my clit, vibrating away. Not only was I not ready for that, my clit was about ten times more sensitive than normal because of the clit pump. As soon as the vibrator touched my clit, I jerked and yelped and swore and my hips started wriggling around, trying to get away.

Orlo was patient, but relentless. I could move my hips, but in limited ways and he just held on while I bucked and jerked, trying to get away from the vibrator. The vibrator traveled with me where ever I went, driving me wild.

I begged him to stop. I begged him to stop, it was too much, I was too sensitive down there, I couldn't take it. I never used my safe word. I don't think I remembered I could use a safe word.

To be clear-- it didn't hurt. It wasn't painful, not really. It was sexual pleasure, a massive overstimulation of my clit. And even though I couldn't stand it, it was so much more than I wanted, somehow it still worked its magic on me.

I came.

I shuddered, heaved my hips up, drooled as my eyes rolled up in my head and I jerked and thrust and moaned and cried out and the endorphins flooded my body and I had a massive orgasm, one that had been hiding, wanting to come out for the last hour and a half.

If my tormenter had really wanted to torture me, he would have kept the vibrator on my clit after I came. But he didn't. He made sure I rode the orgasm to completion then took it away;

I collapsed, panting.

"Oh... my god... oh my fucking god... don't you ever do that again," I swore. 

"But you came," he said with a grin.

"Yeah and what a fucking glorious cum it was," I said. "OK, maybe we can do that again, but... not for a while. Not like that."

He was untying me. Apparently our session was over. It actually seemed rather like a good place to stop. My body was going to hurt like hell for the next few days with all the straining and stretching it had done. 

I lay exhausted and sore, letting him remove to ropes. He was being gentle, engaging in some aftercare. I don't need a lot of aftercare, but it can be very nice after an intense session. It brings me back to reality and reminds me it was all for fun.

The aftercare was as good as the scene. It felt warm, comfortable. It felt right. I turned to him, moving my body, my face, and as I did he took my face in his hands gently and kissed me. Lovingly, gently, he kissed me. I melted. I kissed him back. 

Oh my fucking god I had not been kissed like that by a man in years.

The entire thing was unexpected. The passion, that is. I was kissing him because I wanted to, because I wanted intimacy with him. And it felt that way from him as well, that he wanted me, not as a submissive, not as an object to torment, but he wanted me, to make love to me.

Oh, what am I saying. I wanted him. I wanted him inside me. I wanted him to fuck me. I didn't just want to be fucked, I wanted to fuck him, I wanted him to fuck me, I wanted to be taken by him. I wanted it bad.

I was naked, he was not. He had never stripped during the entire session, and only exposed his cock and balls when he throat fucked me earlier. That was designed to make me feel more isolated, more used, and it worked. Now, I wanted to feel his flesh against mine.

We were pressed together, cuddling, kissing, and my fingers reached, explored, found the buttons of his shirt then the zipper of his pants. His clothes peeled off as we continued to kiss and the more they did, the more of his flesh I felt and the more of my flesh pressed against his.

The foreplay moved quickly to fucking; we were both incredibly aroused by the scene we had just finished and being around each other. His cock was hard; he'd cum 20 minutes before but had recovered quickly and was totally ready. I didn't want him in my mouth this time, I wanted him in my cunt, deep.

I couldn't wait any longer and straddled him, grabbing his cock (amazingly hard) and pressing it against my pussy (amazingly wet). He slipped in as I pressed down, and went deep, just as I wanted. We both grunted and moaned as we joined together for the first time.

I rode him, sliding his cock in an out of me, pushing down with my hips, rotating to get him as deep as possible. I did all the work. Controlled everything. Shifting my hips back, I slid his cock against my clit and discovered it was still very sensitive from the clit pump. I didn't care. I wanted to feel his cock on my clit and shifted so the thrusts would slide him along the top of my pussy.

The speed of our fucking was increasing, I was getting close to orgasm, but he couldn't stand having me in control. He flipped us over, I landed on my back with him on top. I spread my legs wide (I am flexible) and made myself completely open and available to him. He inserted his cock and spread me wide, thrusting deep until I thought he would impale my heart.

He then started thrusting and once he got a rhythm, he lay on top of me. 

I really love feeling the weight of a guy on top of me as he fucks me. I like feeling the strength of him between my thighs, my breasts on his. 

That guy really knew how to fuck. He held me down, thrust deep inside, varied the rhythm until he found what was making me moan and cry the most, clutched my body (I love that) and made sure my clit got attention (that's the key to orgasms with me).

His fucking grew harder, violent almost. My body was bouncing around, being shoved and pushed by his thrusts, which were definitely going deep enough to rearrange my insides. 

I tend to get loud when I'm being fucked hard, and I wasn't just grunting now, I was yelping and swearing and begging... I don't remember what I was begging for. Deeper, harder, longer, whatever... it didn't matter. 

My cunt grew warm and the warmth spread rapidly throughout my body, to my arms and legs and head, and pleasure surged as I climaxed. My hips thrust up against him, trying to get the most out of this orgasm. 

I was slowly coming down from the high a process that can take a couple of minutes for me, when he came. He pulled out and finished himself, spurting a huge load all over my stomach.

It didn't matter where it went. I was still floating in the remnants of my own orgasm, letting the glow slowly recede. I didn't want it to go, but of course it did. My breathing slowed and I realized what he had done.

"You didn't have to. You could have cum inside," I said breathlessly. 

"I never take that chance unless I have permission. Good god you are a great fuck."

I reached up and pulled him down to me.

"You are a great fuck as well," I said in a low voice, and kissed him passionately. His come was getting squashed and smeared all over both our stomachs, as we pressed together. His still-hard cock was sliding against my pussy and I wiggled a little, rubbing against it.

"Mmmm.... you feel good," I said. "Do you always fuck your submissives after a scene? Is that your aftercare?"

I was grinning.

He smirked. "Nope. You are the first."

"Liar," I said. "Come here."

I pulled him down again and kissed him.

We cuddled for a half hour or so. He talked about how beautiful I was when bound, how much he had wanted to fuck me when I was helpless, how proud he was of how well I had taken a lot of strenuous predicament bondage. I flushed, complimented. The truth was all I had to do was endure it. He was the true artist.

We fucked again after a while. This time it was slow, careful, erotic, and with a lot of kissing. 

He came a third time. I've known many men that could do that, but usually it's difficult by the third time. Orlo didn't seem to have any problem and there was as much semen as ever oozing out of my cunt after he came. Yes, he came inside the third time. I wanted him to.

I was discovering just how sore I was from the bondage earlier. I knew from experience I would be in pain for a couple of days. Tylenol, Advil, some heating pads and ice packs were likely. But at the moment I was fucking.

Eventually I got up and went home.

I realized on the drive home I was gone a lot longer than planned, and my girlfriend would be expecting me, wondering where I was. I texted her to let her know I was late.

I also realized that while the bondage scene was well understood and accepted between me and my girlfriend, the subsequent fucking might be... more difficult to explain. I'd fucked the guy twice, in bed, without being tied up. Just... plain old sex. I didn't mean to cheat, but she might see it differently.

At the same time, I really want to see Orlo again. He's good. At more than one thing.

I haven't talked to my girlfriend yet, but I am doing research on Stockholm Syndrome.