My Dilemma


I felt the pain in my jaw as I kept trying to get my husband’s cock hard with my mouth and tongue. I suppose I’d been sucking and licking for quite a while. I didn’t know what else to do.

I wasn’t in a good position to complain. I was kneeling on the floor, naked, squatting on my ankles, my wrists locked behind my back with two leather wrist restraints, a short length of chain, and a couple of padlocks.

The cum from my husband’s first ejaculation was drying on my chest and slightly pulling on my skin. He was sitting on the end of the bed, naked, looking down at me, waiting for me to blow him to his second ejaculation of the afternoon.

So, how did I get myself in this position? Well obviously, I undressed and allowed my husband to lock my wrists behind my back. But really, how did I get myself in this quandary?

One evening over dinner, my then fiancee asked me to describe my sexual fantasies. We had been seriously dating for several months and had been intimate on a few occasions. Nevertheless, this question seemed to come up out of the blue.

I asked my fiancee to go first. He listed off a number of fetish fantasies as calmly and as matter-of-fact as if he was giving me a grocery list. I was surprised by how kinky he seemed to be.

When he was finished, and it was my turn, I didn’t have much to say. I told him I felt like I was submissive, but I was willing to try and fulfill some of his fetish fantasies. He asked me about my fantasies.

I hesitated a bit before I replied. I’d never shared my fantasy with anyone before.

“I want to be tied up and raped, ” I blurted out.

I didn’t know how my fiancee would react. He smiled, and calmly replied, “Okay. I think I can arrange that.”

As I said, we’d been intimate before, but my fiancee hadn’t pushed me to have sex with him. He seemed willing to wait until I was ready. Did I want my first sexual experience with him to be “rape”?

It was a couple of weeks later that my fiancee reminded me of what I said. He asked me, “Do you want to be tied up today?”

I knew what he meant. Did I want to be “raped”? I really hadn’t thought much about it since our dinner conversation. I tried to put on a brave face and replied, “Sure.” I wasn’t sure.

“Strip” my fiancee commanded.

This wasn’t how I’d imagined our first sexual encounter. I could feel my pussy tingle as I undressed. By the time I was naked, I could feel how wet my pussy was getting.

“Lay down on the bed.”

I lay down on the bed. My fiancee had tied four ropes to the corners of the bed, and it didn’t take him long to tie me to the bed spread eagle.

Maybe I should say, spread pussy. I was already wet, but I wondered what my fiancee had in mind.

The first thing he did was squeeze my tits and tweak my nipples. Damn him, I was already pretty wet. Did he want me to soak the sheets? Nevertheless, I loved the way his hand felt on my tits. I loved how helpless I was to stop him.

I wear a 32B bra. My right tit sags, while my left tit is perky. I’ve always been self-conscious about my uneven tits, but my fiancee didn’t seem to care one bit. He played with both my tits until I was sure that he’d have to change the sheets afterward.

My fiancee finally, mercifully, undressed and climbed up on top of me to fuck me. It was a disaster. He weighs twice as much Tipobet as I do, and I could feel his body weight landing on my abdomen with every thrust.

After a couple of minutes, he stopped and climbed off me. I guess he could tell by the expression on my face that I wasn’t enjoying myself. After a couple of minutes, he untied me. He was disappointed. I was disappointed. I went into the bathroom to clean up and put my panties and pants back on. We spent the rest of the evening watching TV. I appreciated that my fiancee kept playing with my bare naked tits, but it just didn’t feel as much fun as before.

That was the last kinky thing we tried until after our wedding. I guess we both got too busy with his work and our wedding arrangements. We didn’t have a big wedding, just family and a few friends at his mom’s church. The reception was held at his parents’ home.

On our honeymoon in the New Orleans French Quarter, we had sex for the first time with me on top in the cowgirl position. I liked how I could control the intensity of my thrusts, and I had a massive orgasm. I suppose it had been building up with all of the distractions of wedding planning and the stress of the wedding and reception.

Thereafter, we had sex in either the cowgirl position or the doggy position. Either way, I could control the intensity. I’m pretty sure my husband liked both positions. In the cowgirl position, he could play with my tits while I picked myself up and dropped myself on his cock. In the doggy position, he could pull me back into his cock by my long hair.

My husband generally didn’t orgasm from intercourse. It made me feel bad, but he assured me that it didn’t matter to him that I fucked until I came. It seemed selfish at first, but he assured me he was fine. After we had sex, he would masturbate or if I was feeling really appreciative, I would use my hand to masturbate him. He liked when I masturbated him with my hand, which I’m sure made him even less sensitive to intercourse.

One day, I noticed an old-fashioned wooden folding chair in our bedroom. I asked my husband what the chair was for.

“Tying you to the chair will allow me to rape you, ” he calmly replied.

My pussy tingled. I hadn’t thought much about my rape fantasy with everything else going on. I wondered what my husband had in mind as I looked longingly at the chair.

I didn’t have to wonder for long. I heard my husband command, “Strip.”

I obeyed as quickly as I could. After I was naked, my husband bent me over the back of the chair on my abdomen. He tied my wrists to the front legs of the chair. I had to stand on my tip-toes to take my body weight off my abdomen.

My husband came up behind me. I heard his zipper and then I felt his cock inside me. It was a good thing I was as wet as I was. He thrust for a couple of minutes, then pulled out before I had an orgasm.

That bastard. I thrashed around as much as my restraints allowed, which wasn’t much. But there was nothing I could do. I had to patiently wait for my husband’s cock.

He teased me a couple more times before he finally thrust enough for me to orgasm. I loved the way I felt as my body trembled. He pulled out and left me tied bent over the chair for a while before he finally untied me.

Afterward, when we were lying in bed cuddling, I told him how much Tipobet Giriş I appreciated the wooden chair, and appreciated that he thought about my fantasy. Of course, I complained about having to balance on my tip-toes for so long.

It was a few days later when my husband told me to go out and buy a pair of pumps. They would be my “fuck me” pumps. Any time I wanted my husband to tie me to the chair, all I had to do was undress and put the pumps on. When he saw me undressed like that, he’d know to tie me to the chair and “rape” me.

That seemed like a good idea, so the next day I went to Kohl’s and found a darling pair of red pumps with 4-inch heels. I liked that they were red and not too expensive. That evening, I modeled the pumps for my husband, which gave him another opportunity to tie me to the wooden chair. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I still had to stand on my tip-toes. The heels did allow me to take breaks where my abdomen wasn’t pressing too hard into the back of the wooden chair.

By this time in our relationship, I was more comfortable talking to my husband about my sexual desires. One evening, after dinner, I told him I wanted him to tie me up and put clothespins on my nipples.

Now, I have no idea how I came up with that idea. Maybe I read about it on the internet somewhere, and the idea stuck with me.

So, my husband had me strip and tied my hands behind my back with some rope. He found a couple of clothespins and clamped them on my nipples.

I didn’t know I could scream so loudly. My husband quickly removed the clothespins, which caused me to scream again when the blood rushed back into my nipples.

The next time we went to the grocery, my husband bought a couple of mousetraps. Worried, I asked him if he’d seen mice in our apartment. Calmly, he replied, no.

I didn’t have to wait long to find out what the mousetraps were for. One evening, he ordered me to strip, and after he tied my wrists behind my back, he brought out the mousetraps. He carefully placed one on each of my nipples, stood back, and waited.

The mousetraps didn’t hurt as much as the clothespins did. The weight of the mousetraps did pull on my nipples, which felt interesting. After about 15 minutes, he took the mousetraps off.

I didn’t scream so loudly this time. I knew the blood rushing back into my nipples would hurt, and I did my best to tolerate the pain. Actually, I wanted to enjoy the pain. It made my pussy wet to think about my loving husband causing me pain.

My husband had me wear the mousetraps about a dozen more times before he was comfortable trying the clothespins again. I guess the mousetraps toughened up my nipples because the pain from the clothespins wasn’t as severe as I remembered. I was able to tolerate the clothespins for maybe 5 minutes until I wanted them off. Yes, the pain in my nipples from the blood rushing back in was pretty severe. It just wasn’t a surprise any longer.

Over time, my pain tolerance built up, and I could endure the clothespins on my nipples for 20 minutes or so. Taking them off was still extremely painful, but I anticipated the pain and tried not to scream.

During the time I was getting accustomed to clothespins on my nipples, my husband bought me leather wrist and ankle restraints, chains, padlocks, and a ball gag. He didn’t Tipobet Güncel Giriş tell me he was doing this and surprised me with the new restraints by using them on me. I found the leather restraints were more comfortable than rope, and I could remain restrained for long periods of time.

The ball gag was an interesting addition to our sex play. I hadn’t realized I’d gotten into the habit of begging my husband to remove the clothespins and untie me. I didn’t notice until my husband surprised me by locking a ball gag on me after restraining me, but before putting the clothespins on my nipples. I couldn’t say anything. I had to endure the pain in my nipples until my husband took the clothespins off and untied me. At least I could scream into the gag when the clothespins came off.

This was about the time when my husband started locking my wrists behind my back with the leather wrist restraints and having me get him off with my mouth. Usually, my husband wanted me to use my hand to get him off. One of his favorite sexual fantasies was to suck on my nipples while I used my hand to stroke him to orgasm. I didn’t mind doing this for him, although after his orgasm I was pretty horny. I’d usually lay down next to him and masturbate with my hand, or more likely, with a vibrator.

Well, my husband decided it would be a great idea for me to give him blow jobs while restrained. He would lie on the bed, and I would straddle on the bed next to him, using my mouth as best I could to get him off. Afterward, I’d lie beside him until he decided to unlock me from the leather wrist restraints.

A couple of months passed before my husband introduced a new wrinkle to my bound blow jobs. After locking my wrists behind my back with the leather wrist restraints, he placed clothespins on my nipples. The clothespins stayed on until I blew him to an orgasm. Needless to say, the clothespins made for a really good incentive to get him off as quickly as I could.

This was also the time when instead of him lying on the bed to receive his bound blow jobs, he would sit on the edge of the bed and have me kneel on the floor. I suppose the view was more erotic for him, but I missed being up on the bed with him. After I was done, he either lies back on the bed, or gets up, puts a robe on, and goes watch TV. I like the times he just left me bound and kneeling. It makes me feel more like a servant.

Today, he introduced another wrinkle to my bound blow job. While I was kneeling naked on the floor with my wrists bound behind my back, he masturbated with his hand and ejaculated on my chest before allowing me to blow him to a second ejaculation.

I’d gotten him fairly hard by now. I kept sucking, hoping he would ejaculate soon. My jaws were screaming in pain, but I didn’t want to lose any more time getting him off.

Finally, mercifully, he ejaculated in my mouth. I swallowed it as best I could. I don’t really like the taste of his cum, which gives him more of an incentive to leave me kneeling on the floor for a while.

He got up from the bed, put on his robe, and went into the living room to watch the rest of a football game.

As I knelt by the bed, the pain in my jaw subsided. My pussy was screaming at me, but as I was bound, there was nothing I could do right now. Tomorrow, after he left for work, I could lie in bed and use my vibrator for as long as I want, thinking about how my husband used me to get off.

For now, I just have to patiently wait until the game’s over for him to come back to the bedroom. Maybe, he’ll want a third orgasm before he unlocks me. Maybe, he’ll use my mouth one more time.