Best Bondage Erotica 2013 (19 page)

It's now been twenty-one days since Brian had an orgasm. He's never been hornier in his life, and Natasha knows it. For about a week now, all she has had to do is toy with the key as it hangs from the chain around her neck, and Brian starts to whimper as his dick gets hard.

Every morning he uses the shower massager on it, running water over his cock to clean it. Once a week Natasha unlocks his cage for a more thorough cleaning.

Tonight, on the twenty-first day, she has him prepare two washcloths and two basins—one with soapy water, the other with clear. Then she ties him, naked, to the bed.

She undresses where he can see her; her naked body is glorious. After twelve years together, he could still barely even
look
at her without popping a boner—and that was
before
he'd gone twenty-one days without an orgasm. Now, he's squirming and pulling at his bonds already.

At midnight, he starts his last week of torment.

Natasha kisses her way down Brian's body, letting the key dangle against his flesh. She unlocks the padlock. His dick is already painfully hard; she has to work to get the chastity tube off.

She laughs at him.

“What is
this
?” she purrs, caressing it. “It can't be a dick—it's too small!” She gently thumbs his glans. Brian squeals and pulls against his bonds. If he didn't have a cock-shaped gag strapped snugly into his mouth, he'd beg her to stop. She wouldn't listen.

Natasha leans over him to rummage in the nightstand drawer. As she does, she's careful to rub her tits in his face. She knows he could blow his load any second after twenty-one days without, so she shoves her knee in his balls. She grinds her knee painfully against his swollen nuts.

She perpetually rotates her bedside toys so he never knows what she'll use on him. What toy is she looking for in the nightstand? Nasty-ass nipple clamps with jagged alligator teeth? A cock whip? Electrodes? Her “nutcracker”—a heavy rubber mallet?

Holy fuck…he hopes it's not
needles
or something…is it?

Natasha's slender hand comes out holding an eighteen-inch ruler.

“You know,” purrs Natasha. “I've always wondered just how tiny it is. I remember measuring it once, but that was a very long time ago. Do you remember?”

He does remember, but he can't respond; there's that dick-shaped gag, the strap padlocked around his head. He can't say a word—just like he can't beg her to stop caressing his dick. The
pleasure's exquisite, but he can't fucking stand it.

Maybe he
could
stand it, if he thought she might miscalculate and accidentally jerk him off.

But he knows she won't.

Natasha caresses his balls with the edge of the ruler, making a show of groping in her memory. “I mean, I know we
did
measure it, but it was such a small number I'm sure I forgot it right away. Then again, maybe I'm remembering it wrong. I mean, it
seems
really small…but what with all those bikers and black guys and football players and Armenians and such I keep fucking behind your back, maybe my judgment's off a little. Do you remember how big it is, baby?”

Seven inches
, Brian thinks, as hot humiliation floods through his naked, bound body. She doesn't really fuck football players, bikers, Armenians. She's never even had sex with a black guy, as far as he knows; she just gets off on telling him about it. But then, his cock also isn't that small; if anything, it's mildly above average. Seven inches is fairly impressive anywhere except porn…but that's not what it's about. It's about the hot pulse of agony that surges through him when his wife complains about how inadequate he is.

His dick throbs hard from her flirty tone of voice, from her chiding words, from her nude body rubbing up against him; her hand on his cock, stroking him. Because he knows that she isn't going to stroke him
off
. Not till she's finished with him.

In another seven days.

Natasha caresses his balls with the ruler.

She says with relish, “I'll tell you what. Let's measure it again. If I'm remembering wrong, I'll go ahead and give you a hand job.”

She smacks his nuts hard with the ruler and cackles as he jumps.

“Actually—here, honey, how about this. If it's larger than an inch, I'll stroke you off and let you come all over my face. You'll like that, won't you? You've got to be packing an
inch
, don't you? Even
your
pathetic cock? I mean, of course I know it doesn't satisfy
me
, but I'm kind of weird like that…I like
really big dicks
. The fact that yours seems so disgustingly tiny could just be about all those Russian rent boys I've been letting gang-bang me while you're at work, don't you think? Even your little noodle has to be an
inch
, doesn't it?”

It's seven
, he thinks pathetically, but the heat pulsing through his balls and his cock and the rest of his body doesn't come from the pain. It comes from knowing there is
no fucking way
he's getting a hand job tonight, even though he wants one so bad he could almost burst into tears.

She'll
never
admit his dick is an inch long, and she won't give him a hand job. Not for seven days.

Natasha makes a great show of stroking his cock gently, edging him right to the brink, while Brian squirms and moans. The bed creaks with his struggles.

Natasha breathes, “Don't get mad, baby. I'm not trying to tease you. I just want it to be as erect as it can be, baby. I want to give you the best possible chance. Isn't that nice of me?”

Instinctively, Brian makes an “Uh-huh,” sound behind the gag and nods his head.

She draws the very tips of her fingers down the shaft of his cock.

He groans and whines and whimpers and pulls at the restraints that secure him to the bed.

The pleasure is excruciating.

He's maybe three seconds from coming; all she'd have to do is tighten her grasp and jerk, maybe once, maybe twice. Certainly no more than half a dozen times.

He'd blow his load all over her hand. Three weeks worth of jizz, with Natasha's constant teasing. His nuts are swollen with it. They're so blue they're
indigo
.

Natasha stands Brian's cock up straight up from his crotch. She measures.

Her mouth drops open. She makes a horrified sound.

“Eighteen millimeters, baby. What is that in inches?”

Seven
, thinks Brian bitterly, but his arousal is soaring. Didn't he beg for this? Didn't he softly coax his beautiful wife into locking him up and tormenting him like this? Didn't he talk her into it by making
promises
?

He sure as hell did. And she knows it. She's really pressing her advantage. She whaps his balls again with the ruler and says harshly, “Darling! What is that in inches?”

Brian can't say a word; his mouth is stuffed full with silicone dick. So he just whimpers in pain as his blue, abused balls throb.

Natasha gets up. She gets her laptop. She sets it on his chest and cuddles up against him, absently caressing his cock between keystrokes as she punches
18mm convert to inches
into the search engine.

As her laptop puzzles over that query, she reaches down and flicks his swollen nuts hard with her fingers. She digs in her long, painted fingernails. She twists and torques his balls a little. Then she gets all sweet and nice and lets her fingertips tickle up his cock, which only makes him squirm more, and yowl and cry behind the gag. She gently thumbs his glans again, purring into his ear.

The heat at the base of her laptop sizzles into his chest, meeting the pulses of pain from his nuts and the agonizing pleasure from his cock.

“Holy shit,” Natasha says when the answer comes up. “It's
even smaller than I thought! Zero-point-seven inches, baby. Sorry, darling. No hand job for you.”

She takes her hand off his cock, caresses his face, kisses his cheeks.

If he wasn't gagged, he'd probably try to point out that the ruler has had
CM
plastered over with
MM,
which he can clearly see as she makes him kiss it, before she whacks his balls again. He wouldn't tell her that because he wants to dissuade her from telling him how small his cock is. On the contrary, he loves the way Natasha thinks on her feet. If he pointed out that his dick was actually eighteen
centimeters
, how would she handle it?

Would she tell him boys can't do math? That he must need glasses?

Or would she just laugh and say, “Keep telling yourself that, baby. Live in denial if you want…it's kind of adorable. Do you also believe in Santa Claus?”

Now Natasha's all over him, rubbing her tits on his chest, in his face. She grinds her pussy on his thigh; it's incredibly wet. She leaves a snail trail up one thigh and down the other, then wriggles up and teases her slit gently up and down his cock. Brian goes cross-eyed, whimpering. Soon his dick is slicked up, juicy with her pussy.

“It's really too bad,” she purrs into his ear. “I was almost considering fucking you. Would you have liked that?”

Her laugh of pure joy makes his heart race.

“I know
I
wouldn't have, but it seemed the nice thing to do. But you're just too small, baby. I'm sorry.” She crawls up his body, taking her time, leaning heavily on his face and rubbing her cunt on his chest while she rummages in the nightstand some more.

This time, her hand comes out holding a vibrator.

She snuggles up against him, switches it on.

She draws it down the shaft of his cock, making him squeal. She laughs merrily. She nuzzles the vibe up between her legs.

She sighs softly in pleasure and undulates against him.

She mewls, “You don't mind, darling, do you? I mean, since
you
can't satisfy me…you do love me, don't you? Don't you want me to come?”

He groans into the gag, and nods.

“Good, baby. I'd let you eat me, but the last time you did, you drizzled precome all over my foot, remember? And Mister Tiny certainly can't go back in his chastity tube right away. Not till I give the poor boy an ice pack…”

Natasha is moaning, humping against him. Every now and then she takes her hand out from between her legs and caresses his swollen balls and aching cock.

“Once I have a good hard orgasm, I'll get the ice pack, and we'll send Mister Tiny back to Shrivelsville. Then I'll take that gag out so you can tell me how much you love me, baby, while I fall asleep in your arms. Won't that be romantic?”

She humps his leg harder, using it to brace the vibrator against her clit. The vibe is a powerful model. The trembling rumbles up his leg and into his balls. Worse, it makes her leg vibrate a little, so he can feel the sensation when she rams her knee into his balls and grinds it against them. She doesn't quite knee him in the balls, but it's something more than just rubbing. It hurts like hell, but he can tell it makes her hot. Maybe it's the way he squirms and squeals when she rams her knee into his blue balls. Maybe it's the risk she's taking; she has to know those vibrations are almost making him come.

She works the vibe faster and knees his balls harder.

She mounts toward a screamer while she purrs in his ear: “Seven days, baby. Only seven more days, then you get your revenge…”

He thinks,
Revenge? What she's going to get isn't revenge.

The torments of the last three weeks—and the one to come—were Brian's idea from the beginning. It took him a good long while to gently cajole Natasha into becoming his chastity mistress.

See, she's usually a bottom.

She's certainly getting the hang of having Brian wrapped around her finger, all right. But she never stops looking at the big picture.

She knows it's her turn next month.

Brian has her belt ordered. It's a daily wear model with nice tough straps that won't even let her hand down.

It's harder with women, because you don't have the useful tool of inhibiting erection. Get a woman horny enough, and she can come from riding a horse or a bicycle. And he knows his wife; when she really gets going, the little slut comes like popcorn kernels going off. By the time he's had her in chastity a few weeks, she'll just have to rub her clit against something and she'll come hard.

So Brian spared no expense. The chastity belt he's gotten her is guaranteed to keep her secure. She'll spend a month in bondage, being teased by him constantly. She'll be locked up good and tight, secured against orgasm and pleasure.

But “revenge?”

Nah
, thinks Brian, the pleasant rush of adrenaline hitting him as Natasha begins to shudder all over. “I'm coming…I'm coming,” she moans, her mouth up against his neck, her breath hot and fast and hungry. “I'm going to fucking
come!
”

Her breathing turns deep and ragged as her perfect breasts heave. This is gonna be a big one.

Next month,
he thinks,
won't be my revenge. It'll be her reward.

Natasha lets out a screamer, shaking the bed. She humps his leg and knee-fucks his balls while she comes. He's never seen his wife climax so hard. Even the pain in his nuts can't distract him from the fact that she looks and sounds amazing. He's never been happier.

When that gag comes out, it's easy for him to tell her how much he loves her. She falls asleep in his arms while he thinks,
Seven more days
…