Drew comes to town

“Is he going to tie you up?”

I texted Frodo that I was going to see Drew and this is what he texted back.

“I dunno,” I replied. I wasn’t exactly sure what would happen. All I knew is Drew was going to be in town and we were going to hang out.

“I might like that,” I added. “We’ll, I know I’d like that.”

“I’d like to see pictures,” Frodo replied.

Well, that’s that then. TIE ME UP.

“Would you let me suck his cock in exchange for the pictures? He may ask.”

It was true he may have asked that, but in reality it was far more the truth that I wanted to suck cock very much since I haven’t had one in my mouth for…Jesus, like two years now. Fucking Covid.

“Yes, that will be fine. So long as I get what I want.”

“Of course.”

“In fact, I want you to tee it up with him that way.”

“I will.”

“Good. That turns me on.”

Me: Heart emoji.

“I’m very tight thinking about being tied up and serving Drew so you can have pictures.”


[texting with Drew]

“Drew would also like to spank me. Is that OK?”

“Of course. He can hurt you all he wants.”

Drew’s rules for me whenever I see him is that I need to be naked in his presence. It’s just how things should be and, honestly, how I like them. Being naked while he’s clothed reaffirms my position and makes me feel more comfortable and authentic. So, when I arrived at his room, I immediately started to strip off all the way down to the Steelheart, even as we chatted amiably about my drive over, the room, the weather, whatever. I had to get on a Zoom call with a client in a few hours but that was no excuse to wear clothing in the mean time.

“The Steelheart is so you,” he said. And, of course, it is. Completely. The tile on the floor was cold on my feet.

As I recall, he had me get on my knees. I was feeling myself slide slowly into submission. Like slipping into a warm tub. Familiar, comforting, needed. Drew is a stickler for the observation of my submission.

I thought about the chain of custody over me that put me there. Belle to Frodo, Frodo to Drew. I could do this free of any guilt or internal conflict. Three people who know me, accept me, allow me to seek what I need and provide those things to me. I am a lucky bunny.

What was to come has made the exact series of events kind of blur. Drew had told me to get some prervertables from Home Depot before I got there. Some Husky Velcro hanging straps with carabiners and a pack of zip ties. He bound me up using those and, I think, my belt.

I sat on the edge of the table, made mostly immobile and unable to sit up straight. Then he came over to me with a hanger from the hotel closet. Maybe the only place you can still find hangers with little clips to hold suit pants.

This item is very pervertable. It has some weight, especially the nice ones made of wood, and little clips that slide back and forth on a rod and grip hard but also have little rubber nubbins on the clips.

He put the first clip on my left nipple and the other on my right nipple then dropped the hanger and let if flop down. OUCH. The spring loaded jaws bit hard and the first shot of pain seared through me and made me jump which just caused me to pull against my restraints. The hanger hurt in a hurty way but the tube contents swole against its confinement.

He left me that way for a while. To contemplate. This was the first time in so long that I had to endure pain being inflicted upon me. Pain I could not control. I find the best way to do that is to lean into it. To let it flow over and through me. I burrow into it and let its hot fire burn away my resistance.

In that way, my nervous system somehow converts it to pleasure. I can feel the moment it happens. Not all at once. Gradually. Like someone turning up a light on a dimmer ever so slowly. The hard edge turns and softens and the jangly energy smooths out.

I don’t know how long he left me like that. Not too long before he flipped me over and hogtied me. Tried to spank me, but the bindings got in the way and he seemed to prefer me tied up to having a glowing red ass so bound I stayed.

But I was already feeling the ground under me start to open in that way where my desire for being hurt becomes unsatisfiable. I wanted him to whip my ass. But I held my tongue. Mostly because it was still early but also because it’s hard for me to say what I want to my dominants. Because even though I was the subject of his attention, it wasn’t about me and what I wanted. I know, intellectually, it’s important to communicate and I try to do that when I’m not in a scene, but once the sub juices get flowing, I just can’t get the words out. I mean, lol, that’s why I have blogs.

In any event, I had to get on that Zoom. Drew had me take it wearing only a shirt and with my ankles bound to the chair I was sitting in. It was fine, if rather distracting. I did it while my tender nips nagged at me for more torture.

Once off the call, Drew freed my ankles and my bare ass peeled off the chair’s vinyl seat. He sat on the couch while I removed my shirt and knelt again before him. I placed my head between his legs and he felt my shoulders and back and neck. I wrapped my arms around his thick, solid thighs and squeezed hard. It’s a thing I know he likes. I wanted to give him what he liked because at this point I was focused intently on the knowledge his cock was near and I wanted it in my mouth. I wanted to feel him shove it roughly down my throat.

In my place with my nose millimeters from spot on his jeans where the transverse seams crossed, I could smell Drew. A mixture of his detergent and the subtle man smell of this closest, warmest, most intimate place on his body. Right in front of me. Right there. But so far away still. He let me soak in it for a long time. He knew what was happening. How being allowed to absorb his essence in that way in that position was pulling me back down to where I belonged and needed to be.

But he never got his cock out. I never saw it. Later, he told me he was preparing me for my weekend with Frodo (the weekend I’m en route to as I type). He teased me with his cock to leave me wanting Frodo’s all the more.

But he wasn’t done with the rest of me yet. I was placed on the table and bound again with the straps and zip ties. The hanger was reattached and attached vie the ties to the Steelheart. If I tried to sit up, the clips would pull harder.

Again, I have no idea how long I was on the table with those evil little jaws biting at me. I mean…it was a long time. More than half an hour. Much more. It was long enough for him to change my position a few times, unattaching and reattaching my extremities, but never unclipping my nipples. The pain was intense and everywhere but that infinitely deep crack had opened to a chasm and I found myself flexing my chest and arching my back and doing all the things necessary to make the clips pull harder. And harder. And just when I was thinking they’d never come off, it was time.

If you’ve ever had something like those clips on your nipples for a long time, you know about this moment. The one where you may think you can’t take it anymore but you certainly can’t take what it feels like when they come off. When the blood comes rushing back and the intense little fires of pain flare into a binary star system collapsing into a black hole of painful ferocity. The only time I really made noise. God, it was so hard.

The nipples were cruelty dented from the clips. They looked bruised (but weren’t) and held the clipped shape as if phantom metal jaws were still attached. They were too tender to even faintly brush against. Drew sat back down on the couch and had me kneel again with my head in his lap and my face in his crotch and I literally chewed at the denim while he held me down. Held me down so I could come down.

But I wasn’t coming down. I was in too deep then. The realization came to me that what I needed even more than his cock in my mouth was his strong, hard fingers on my nipples. Direct infliction of the most intense pain as only Drew could give me. But I has to ask for it. He wasn’t going to give it to me.

The words were in my mouth but wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t get myself to say them. My internal conflicting motivations wrestled in my head. Finally, I blurted out, “Would you hurt my nipples some more?”

I felt a measure of shame for asking. But he laughed. And, of course, he agreed. He gave them little flicks first which was terrible and wonderful. Then he really went to work on them. Pinching and twisting and all I could feel and see was the hot white fire that burned like a cross over my body, from nipple to nipple, up to my brain, and down to the straining contents. I made growling noises and pressed into him hard.

MORE. I needed more. I needed every bit of it. I could never, ever get enough.

Eventually, it was over of course. He stopped. I laid back and felt totally stoned on the endorphins or whatever chemicals where being spurted into my system. Just drunk on the stuff. Dopey. It was hard to focus my eyes. It was hard to focus my thoughts.

“I can’t believe you enjoy doing that to me half as much as I enjoy having it done,” I said to him.

He assured me he did. And that turned me on. I would have kept going. Would have been happy to have him torture me in all kinds of ways. But it was getting late and we were both hungry and clearly he was ready to move along.

So I got up and got dressed and we went to dinner at a restaurant and talked about TV shows and life. My nipples didn’t hurt as much as I thought they would the next day. They showed no outward signs of their suffering. Amazing little things, really.

I can’t wait for Drew to come to town again.

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