Day 18
Try something adventurous you’ve never done.
There’s a good chance this prompt was intended to mean rock climbing or maybe a sushi making class and not being tied up in front of a window.
But after last night’s conversation, the only thing on my mind is bringing Daniel’s vision to life.
I spent the day trying to force my brain from dwelling there because I was close to needing a different pair of panties before eleven a.m. Meanwhile, it was a normal day for Violet, who had no idea that after being safely put to bed, we’d turn the white noise machine to high so her dad could make a mess of me.
The static hum emanating from her room dims as Daniel closes her door.
If there’s a protocol for waiting to be tied up in your living room, I certainly don’t know it. I changed into a robe and have nothing underneath, figuring I could at least take care of that part. After all, he’s supposed to take care of the rest. That’s part of the fantasy.
“Ready, baby?” he asks as he saunters into the space.
He doesn’t seem to share my nerves about doing this right.
With one hand, he places a pile of ties—literal dress ties—on the couch while the other pops open the buttons on his shirt using his finger and thumb.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
“Difficult, wasn’t it?” I reply. “For me too.”
“I love that you can’t control yourself when I’m not here.
What were you thinking about, exactly?” He shucks off his shirt and flicks open his belt, sliding it from his waist and dropping it on the floor.
Maybe another day we could use that. As a restraint or…
otherwise. Who am I? I don’t know, but I like her. She can stay.
I untie the robe and let it fall open, baring my cleavage and giving him a straight line of sight to my pussy.
My personal landscaping has taken a backseat to everyone else’s needs this year, but today, I worked some magic thanks to a trimmer that was recommended by an exotic dancer on TikTok.
I’m as bare as I’ve ever been. He exhales with a groan.
“Hmm, what was I thinking about today? Mostly this,” I muse, while I drag a hand down my front. He grips my hand before I can touch myself.
“This is why I need to restrain you. This pussy is mine tonight.” He walks me around to the side of the coffee table that faces the back wall, where he gestures to the floor. “Lay down, baby.”
I hadn’t considered exactly how I’d get tied up in the living room. Now it’s obvious. Nodding, I sit before shimmying down to my back, until my hands are above my head in front of the table’s legs. It was a good idea to keep the robe on; the floor is cold even through the terrycloth.
Without a word, Daniel grabs the ties and kneels in front of me.
He takes care to massage my hand before wrapping the silky fabric around it and down my wrist, and then securing it to the heavy wood behind me.
He does the same on the other side, then sits back on his heels, opens my robe until I’m entirely splayed before him, and groans.
I’m keenly aware that the light is still on, which means I’m splayed for anyone who’s out for an evening stroll.
Equal parts bashful and energized by the thought, I squeeze my legs together.
“God, you’re so pretty,” he says before opening my legs, bringing two fingers to my entrance to wet them and dragging them up to my clit.
As much as I wanted to be blindfolded, my hairs stand on end being able to look down and watch him play like this.
His dark eyes are hooded, his lips drawn thin in concentration as he watches those fingers plunge inside me.
The sudden pressure makes my back arch, and with the extension, my wrists tug at the ties.
Oh.
Yes.
Yes.
“Mmm hmm, you like it, baby?” Daniel says as he brings that same hand to sweep my hair away.
With the other, he gently lifts my head and places a tie underneath.
Wrapping it across my eyes, he doubles it over and then rests my head back to hold it in place.
“This’ll have to do for tonight. You’re going to have to stay still. ”
“Yes, sir,” I reply, and I mean that I’ll be sure to behave, but with the ties and the blindfold and Daniel controlling my body, it comes out submissive. Based on his grunt and the way I can feel his cock bob against my thigh, he likes it.
With my eyes covered and my hands tied, I’m down two senses with three remarkably heightened.
A breeze whispers against my skin every time he moves.
The pull of his hand against his shaft—skin on skin, once, twice—is audible.
I hear the shuffling of him between my legs, feel the warmth of his breath against my core and then the hot, hot slide of his tongue between my lips.
“Shit!” I exclaim.
“Baby, we’re just getting started,” he replies, and his laugh tickles my bare flesh.
Then it’s slow, lingering licks up my center, hard sucks at the apex, the occasional bite to the softness of my inner thighs.
He stretches up to grip my breasts, and I imagine him in child’s pose, relaxing himself by filling my negative space.
This is something I didn’t expect tonight—without a destination for my hands or eyes, I’m trapped in my brain. There are only two choices: attend to my racing thoughts, or bring all of my focus to the sensations this man is creating for me. The second option is the only way forward.
Daniel continues carrying me up a slow ascent, meticulous in his attention to the parts of me that are throbbing for him.
He tweaks my nipples, then slips a hand down my body to join his mouth, letting his fingers work my entrance while his tongue flicks at my clit.
I can see us in my mind’s eye, me naked and restrained, tugging at my ties, Daniel pumping into me and sucking at my clit until I’m trembling.
It’s not long before my chest is heaving and I’m just inches from the summit and I can almost taste the relief on my tongue… when he stops.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I plead, and I know it’s not fair because I said he could do what he wants tonight but I didn’t mean this. This is torture.
“I think you mean, what am I not doing,” he replies with slippery sincerity that makes me want to strangle him. But of course, I can’t.
Instead, I hear his knees crack—or maybe it’s his ankles?
—as he changes position. Then, in one smooth motion, he wraps his hands around my calves and lifts them to his shoulders.
My hips tilt in response, lifting slightly off the floor.
He runs his cock between my lips to wet it, and I whimper when the head makes contact with my swollen clit.
“All day, I thought about what I’d do tonight.
I always knew I’d taste you—that was a given.
But after that? Would I have you return the favor?
Hover over you to suck me off?” He pushes forward, bending me in half with my legs nearly over my head until his cock touches my lips.
I lick our combined arousal from his tip.
He releases a guttural groan that vibrates against my thighs.
“But then I realized,” he says, as he leans back and gives relief to the burning stretch in my hamstrings, “that what I wanted most of all was to fill you up, knowing that anyone who walks by will know that you’re mine.”
He brings his hands to the soft flesh of my hips and presses his fingertips there, stilling me. God, I need him inside of me. I need him to move. I need, I need, I need.
“Whose is this pussy, baby?” he asks, dragging his cock up and down the length of my pussy, getting so close to where I want him before retreating.
“Yours, it’s yours,” I stammer. I swear I can feel him nod.
Finally, he nudges his tip into my entrance and for a moment I’m washed in relief until the pulsing want threatens to swallow me whole as he lingers there, just an inch inside.
“Please, Daniel, please.”
“Please what?”
“Fuck me. Stretch me, fill me, use me, just don’t fucking stop,” I reply. The words sound foreign to my ears; they come out in my voice but with someone else’s bravado.
He leans down, again taking my legs with him and pushing them to my chest, to whisper, “That’s my girl,” before pushing inside. The slow, taunting, give-and-take of before is gone.
Now he’s just giving.
After seating himself in my body, he uses my hips to slide me up and down his shaft.
The drag of him against my inner walls, the sliding of my bare back against my nubby robe, the wet squelch of our bodies when he drives into me, the smell of sweat and sex makes me weak.
It’s all-consuming, like the world is spinning and the only anchor point is where we’re joined.
“You feel so good, baby. So tight. I love watching you take me like this,” he says, pulling out. “I love watching you stretch around my cock,” he says, pushing in. “Watching me disappear into you. It’s so,”
thrust,
“fucking,”
thrust,
“good.”
thrust.
Each move of his hips is a punctuation mark—an exclamation point—for emphasis. I want to reply, to say yes, so good, but my mouth opens for a moan and nothing else. The whole world is blurry, even in my mind, within the darkness of my blindfold.
I hear it before I feel it, the click and then the buzzing of my favorite toy. On instinct, I try to reach for it, only to remember my hands are tied—literally. Daniel laughs.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I know what to do with it,” he says, and then the small bullet vibrator nudges my clit and a searing pulse of pleasure radiates through my body.
“Oh God, yes,” I manage to reply between breaths.
He continues to fuck me, and it’s all so much—the rhythm of him entering and retreating and the unrelenting hum against my clit, the few seconds every thrust where the stars align and he’s pushing against me from the inside and out.
“More, please, more,” I beg.
He turns the vibrator up—holy shit—and picks up his pace, rutting into me harder.
“Do you know how hot you are like this?” he says, and I don’t feel sexy, I feel like a scattered collection of nerve endings, but still he continues, “Those pretty tits bounce every time I bury myself in your pussy. And down here,” he tilts the toy slightly, eliciting a gasp, “you’re swollen and dripping with want, Molls.
You’re stunning, baby. God, I’m so lucky. ”
And you’d think the dirty talk or the magnitude of different sensations would have pushed me over the edge but they don't. This time, it’s his gratitude. His appreciation. He feels so lucky.
My release spills like liquid sunshine, warm and bright, curling my toes. In my haze, I ask Daniel to come, to be with me here, and he does.
After, he pulls out, lowers my legs and collapses next to me.
Our breaths mingle while our bodies recover.
His heart beats fast against my chest as he leans over me to undo one wrist, then the other.
Last, he cradles my head in his palm to lift the makeshift blindfold out from under me and remove it from my eyes.
We hold eye contact then.
There’s eight years and a million words held in the space of that stare. Cradled there.
There’s a whole entire universe that lives within the walls of this house and the chambers of our hearts and the buoyant laugh of the human our love made.
And it’s there, in that stare.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you too,” I reply.