Authors: Roy Glenn
“This might sound crazy to you, and it not a fantasy because I’ve done it, but I like to have sex while I’m handcuffed to the bed.”
I smiled because he was making it too easy for me. “Do you have handcuffs?”
He laughed a little and looked away, but looked back quickly. “In the car. I never leave home without them. You never know when they’ll come in handy.”
I leaned close to him. “Maybe we should go find a bed to handcuff you to,” I said seductively, and gently touched his face.
“I’m ready when you are,” he said.
“I’m going to run to the ladies room,” I kissed him on the cheek, “why don’t you meet me outside?”
“Okay,” he said, got up quickly, and headed for the door.
It is so funny. When a man thinks he’s gonna get some pussy, he’ll do anything you say. I sat and watched him leave the bar. Then I sat there for a while longer before I went to the ladies room. Before I left, I went to the bar and asked the bartender if I had paid my tab. “I don’t remember if I paid for that last drink,” I said.
“You did, honey,” he said, and then talked to me for a while about how most people would have just left without bothering to ask, and how he appreciated my honesty. Once I was sure that neither he nor anybody else in the place would connect me to leaving with my prey, which was how the LAPD got on to me, I left the bar. Of course my prey was still outside waiting like he was told.
“I was starting to think that you had changed your mind,” he said like they always do.
“No chance of that happening,” I said like I always do.
I followed him to a nearby motel and waited in the car until he paid for the room. I pretended to be on the phone, lying to my man, when he walked up. I put my hand over the phone and he told me what room he was going to die in. I waited until I saw him go in before I started up my car and drove out of the parking lot. I parked down the street and came back on foot. Once I had satisfied myself that nobody was in the parking lot, I made my way to the room and knocked on the door.
The door swung wide open. “Come on in,” he said. He was already butt naked, standing there rock hard, with the handcuffs swinging from his dick.
“You don’t waste any time, do you?” I said, and walked by him like his exhibition was no big deal, because it wasn’t.
“You got someplace to be and so do I,” he said and closed the door.
“You’re not married, are you?” I try to stay away from the married ones, especially the ones that have kids. I grew up without my father being a part of my life, much less, even knowing who he was. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of that for anybody.
“No, I just got somebody just like you who is expecting me,” he said. I was waiting for him to say “So can we get on with it,” but he didn’t. He walked up to me and tried to kiss me. I turned my head.
I don’t like kissing a man that I’m about to kill.
Kissing to me is more personal,
I thought and had to laugh at myself.
I’ll suck a man’s dick until my jaws hurt, but I won’t kiss him.
Sometimes my logic escapes me. “Why don’t you go and lay down,” I said, and gently slid the handcuff off his dick. Then I stroked it a few times to get the feel of it. He had a good size dick. Not too big that it would
gag me and not too small that I wanted to laugh in his face.
I thought back to one of the few men that I let live. We had gone through the preliminaries and we were in the room when he whipped it out. It was so small I could barely see it from where I was standing. I giggled and took a couple of steps closer.
“What?” he asked. Like he didn’t already know.
I pointed at it. “You’re dick,” I said and giggled again. “It’s—it’s—it’s so small,” I said and busted out laughing. I mean, I fell on the bed laughing my ass off, laughing. I’m talking about laughing so hard that tears came to my eyes. Then I stopped and wiped away the tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at your little dick. But seriously. You weren’t seriously thinking about
usin
’ that little thing on me?” I asked with a straight face, and then busted out laughing again. I’m talkin’ stretched out on the bed laughing and kicking my legs, laughing. I was laughing so hard that I rolled off the bed and fell on the floor. I got up, still laughing my ass off, and stumbled out the door, leaving my prey standing there with his hand over his embarrassment.
That was some funny shit.
Tonight’s prey laid down on the bed. I came to the edge of the bed and sat down and looked around the room. I had a gun and a knife on me tonight, but him having handcuffs handy, like they were an American Express card, called for something special.
I reached out and stroked his dick a few times, took the head in my mouth and allowed my tongue to circle it. “Goddamn, girl,” he said and put his hand on my head. “That feels so fuckin’ good,” he added, and tried to force my head down. I moved his hand away and had another reason to be glad he had handcuffs.
I got up and walked around to the side of the bed. I put the cuffs around his wrist, and then secured it to the bed. I straddled his chest and put the other one on. When I was done, I
satisfied myself that they weren’t trick handcuffs, which are fairly simple to get out of since they usually have a button release on them, or some cheap magic store handcuffs with Velcro or snap fasteners that are also simple to undo, by using your mouth to grip the end of the cuff, and pull.
I was in no mood to get my ass kicked, tonight.
“Come here, baby, let me taste it,” he begged.
I stood up on the bed and wiggled out of my thong. I stood directly over him and swung my hips slowly, moving closer and closer to his face. Close enough for him to see, but far enough away that his tongue couldn’t reach it because he was cuffed to the bed.
“Yeah, baby. You a nasty bitch,” he said, and that pretty much ended the show. I hate being called a bitch. And a nasty bitch was worse. I immediately stopped dancing and got down from the bed. Now it was all about me. “Where you going?” he asked as I picked up his shirt and my purse and went in the bathroom.
I went in my purse, got out my bullet, a pair of plastic gloves, and took out my knife. I put the gloves on and cut his shirt into long strips and tied the ends together, except for one piece. Then I got undressed and came out of the bathroom. He said something to me when I came out, but I wasn’t listening. I took the strips I had tied together, got down on my knees, and tied his ankles to the
bedframe
. Then I stood up and looked at him. I started to tell him right then and there that I was gonna kill him, but why ruin it for him. He was probably laying there thinking that he was getting ready to have great sex with a nasty bitch.
By this time, his dick had gotten soft, but I wasn’t worried about that, I knew I could get it back up. I crawled up on the bed and began to run my hands up and down his legs. Coming close to, but never touching his dick. Slowly but ever so surely, his dick began to rise. “You are so fuckin’ hot,” he said, and I was glad that he didn’t call me a bitch again. If he had, I would have killed him quick; and I was determined to have some fun first. I continued making my way up his body with the last piece of his shirt in my hand. “Open your mouth.”
“What?”
“I said, open your mouth.”
Since a man will do anything you say when he thinks he’s about to get some pussy, he opened his mouth as wide as he could. When he did, I used that last piece of shirt as a gag and tied it tight. There would be no more nasty bitches or bitches of any kind spoken for the rest of the night. I sat down on his chest and looked around for his pants. He had folded them neatly on the chair by the desk.
I got up and got his belt and came back to the bed. “We’re gonna have some fun now,” I said and then giggled. “Well—at least I am.”
I crawled up on the bed again and slowly slid the belt around his neck and looped it through the buckle. Then I pulled on the end of it and kept pulling, just not enough to strangle him. I looked at my prey. “It’s called
asphyxiophilia
: the intentional restriction of oxygen to the brain for sexual arousal. Erotic asphyxiation. It induces a lucid, semi-hallucinogenic state called hypoxia, combined with orgasm: the rush is powerful. Believe me, you will go to your grave thinking that this was the best sex you ever had.”
“Yeah?” he managed through the gag.
With the belt gripped tightly in my hand, I moved into position. I turned on the bullet and placed it against my clit. A sensation rushed through my body. I opened my mouth and took him in. I sucked his dick slowly up and down, and pressed my lips together and slid them back and forth across the head. I ran my tongue around his shaft and then took him into my mouth again.
With a firm grip on the belt, I slid my bullet along my lips and continued to suck his dick. For the next thirty minutes I licked, sucked, and ran my face against his dick. I looked at my prey; he was loving every second of it and so was I. Since I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, let go of the belt or the bullet, his dick would fall out of my mouth. Each time, I frantically recovered it and got it back in my mouth. The sensation of his dick in my mouth and the steady vibration of the bullet had me on the edge.
I tossed the bullet aside and straddled his body. With my now free hand, I grabbed his dick, eased it into me, and slowly lowered myself on him. My prey mumbled something, but at this point he could have been reciting Shakespeare and I wouldn’t have known it. I was in a world of my own.
I rode him slowly at first, all the while pulling tighter and tighter on the belt. My prey began to ram his body as best as he could into mine. I fucked him harder and pulled tighter. I could see in his eyes that the excitement was building. I could feel him getting harder inside me and I pulled tighter and tighter, and fucked harder and harder. I wondered what he was feeling as he came hard inside me and I grabbed the belt with both hands and pulled as hard as I could. He began to struggle against it and his body convulsed violently. Slamming his hard dick inside me.
“
AAAaaaHHHHHHH
, SHIT!” I screamed as he stopped moving. I felt like I was about to pass out, but I kept banging my body against his. I began to slow down, my heart was pounding in my chest and sweat dipped from every pour of my body. I slid up and down and moved slide to slide, and grinded my body into his until I felt it coming again. I stopped moving and just let it take me.
And then I exhaled.
It was Wednesday, hump day, and I just wasn’t feeling being there. I didn’t particularly like my job, but I am good at it. There were days when I hated to drag myself out of bed, to deal with traffic, to talk to people that I don’t want to talk to, about things I really don’t care about. But the mortgage had to be paid; so here I am, staring aimlessly out the window, drifting.
I’m tired; I have entirely too much work to do, not enough time, and definitely not enough money. In addition to
Bandexx
, I’ve got three other presentations due. I have got to find something else to sell. I wanna sell something a little more exciting than packaging, something I can really get involved in. But the money has got to be right. I mean, commission here is cool. As a matter of fact it’s pretty damn good, but too much work has to go into it before I see any money.
I had been in the office since seven that morning. It was almost ten o’clock and I was nowhere near finished doing what I’d set out to do. I haven’t left the office before ten any night this week or last week for that matter, and tonight would be no exception.
I got up and walked down the hall to get a 7UP and some chips. As I continued down the hall, I noticed that Ben’s door was open. Ben Clemente, the man. Sales rep of the year four years running.
The guy to beat.
Ben Clemente, willing to do whatever it took to close the deal. Once Ben was trying to close on a company and the buyer was a woman. It was almost Valentine’s Day and Ben remembered her saying that she wasn’t seeing anybody, so she wasn’t expecting to get any flowers. Now, instead of just sending her a dozen roses, Ben steals the company’s phone list and sends every woman in the company one red rose. That’s what makes him the man: his determination. He was in the office when I got there and he’s there most nights when I leave.