Warped — Angela R. Sargenti

Alex’s big mistake was telling me he never tried bondage before.

“Well,” I told him. “We’ll just have to rectify that, won’t we?”

So a few days later, I kicked open my bedroom door while he sat on the edge of the bed waiting for me.

“This is a bust,” I told him.

I had on my favorite stilettos and a brand new sexy little cop suit, complete with a pair of thigh-high black fishnets bearing little silver badges.

He glanced up, surprised. I cocked a hip, my cute little fake outfit shifting with me. I threw off the hat and mirrored sunglasses and told him he was under arrest.

Alex gave a shout of laughter and climbed to his feet.

“For what?”

“For this concealed weapon.”

When I ran my hand down the front of his pants, his hard-on was so rigid it felt like stone. I couldn’t wait to get it inside me, so I kissed him and wrestled him to the floor, pausing just long enough to slap him hard across the face.

He stared up at me, shocked.

“What was that for?”

“That’s for resisting.”

He grinned and rubbed his sore cheek as I smiled down at him. The longing and hunger overtook me and I jammed his pants down and shoved the tiny strip of fabric laughingly known as my panties out of the way. I grabbed hold of his cock and stuffed it inside me, then I slapped his face again.

He pulled me down and kissed me and I rode his cock with a slow, mean-ass grind. I quickened my pace when he started fucking me back, raising his hips off the floor to thrust deeper into me, as carried away as I was by then.

“Oh, Alex, I love you with all my heart. Please don’t ever leave me.”

For some reason this made him go crazy and he flipped me over and pinned my wrists over my head.

“I only wish I knew if you meant that,” he told me. “But why can’t we get off this itchy goddamn rug?”

“Let’s get up on the bed,” I told him. “I just thought of something fun we can do.”

A little while later, Alex was pleading from under the blindfold.

“Come on, Samantha. Are you going to tickle my balls with that thing all night, or what?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

He rattled the headboard, pulling at the silk scarves binding him to each corner of the bed.

“This isn’t funny any more,” he told me, his voice growing urgent.

And I said, “Shhh. Don’t get all nervous, Alex. Nothing’s wrong here.”

When he calmed down I took a little bit of baby oil and warmed it in my hands. I reached down and rubbed it all over his crotch, his cock, his sack, his asshole, and all the skin in between, in long, teasing strokes.

He writhed on the bed, unable to stretch himself far enough for true pleasure, and his voice turned husky, enticing.

“Oh, God, Samantha, please?”

“Don’t worry,” I promised. “I’ll let you come. I will. In a little while.”

He struggled to free himself again and I had the pleasure of watching him writhe and moan and swear his undying devotion to me, if only I’d please, please, please let him come.

“Not yet,” I told him. “I need to fuck your face first.”

He sighed in frustration.

“Come on. You’re torturing me.”

I laughed at his futile efforts to escape.

“There’s nowhere you can go,” I told him, climbing up and straddling his chin. “You’re stuck here, and now you’re my slave.”

To prove it, I grabbed onto the headboard for leverage and positioned my hot, wet pussy right over his mouth.

He became interested and touched his tongue to my slit, exploring me with the only tool he had available. His soft tongue darted in and out and I rocked against him, his nose stimulating my secret little nub as I rode his mouth.

“You’re mine,” I told him. “You’re my slave, my captive, my instrument of pleasure, and your tongue’s my little sex toy.”

He moaned into my cunt and I threw back my head, an unbearable tension taking over. My body and mind rushed ahead of me until at last I hit the wall, fucking his face frantically, grinding out every last vestige of orgasm I could.

When I finally climbed up off him, his chin was sloppy wet and I kissed him, tasting myself.

“I did mean it,” I told him. “I did mean what I said.”

He smiled, his lips trembling.

“Then can you let me up? My shoulder’s starting to ache.”

I immediately set to work, but it took a minute. All his thrashing around had tightened the knots a little, but when he was finally free, he pulled off the blindfold and smiled at me.

“That was amazing,” he told me. “What are you doing to me, Samantha? What kind of freak are you turning me into?”

I giggled, taking it as the compliment it was surely meant to be.

“The good kind, silly.”

After that we made love again, gently, calmly, just touching each other, caressing, soft whispers from both of us about how perfect we were for each other.

And okay, so maybe I didn’t go into much detail about how much I truly loved him, but I’m pretty sure he understood it without all those words. And I let him drift off to sleep when we were done, snuggling up behind him like I was the guy for a change and knowing how much my best friend would love hearing how badly I’m warping poor Alex when I told him in the morning.

___________________

Read Angela’s other stories published on Every Night Erotica, here.

Angela has penned two romances and is the author of the zombie blog After Old Joe.  Her stories and reviews have appeared on numerous websites and she sometimes writes erotica under her pen name, AR Shannon.  You may contact her at angiesargenti@yahoo.com or at www.afteroldjoe.wordpress.com.