Plaything... (poly bdsm fiction)
(flame me if you will, checked w/ moderator before I posted, yes I wrote it)
She idly twirled her hair; it was a gesture she wasn’t even aware of even as she took a childlike innocent pleasure in the act. Her other hand was engaged in a much more adult pastime, it held a steaming cup of coffee and between her first and second finger a burning cigarette whose smoke challenged the steam for dominance.
Despite the apparent war of ages her hands were playing, her eyes appeared ancient as she looked at her work. Before her on the bed was another woman. She sipped her coffee and enjoyed the sight and sounds of the bound woman. This time she had been able to go farther than ever before, this time the person who had placed herself within her power had meant absolutely nothing to her. This time her own emotions of caring and love had not restrained her at the least. Oh they had agreed on a barest frame of conduct, nothing that would require medical attention, no permanent scars and safe words would apply. That was it.
She slowly inhaled through the filter, enjoying the taste as she considered the bound woman. She admired her and gave her a smile of encouragement that she couldn’t see through her tear stained blindfold. She had been sure that a safe word would have been used by now, and this woman had yet to yield. The courage and the ability to continue exceeded the excitement and enjoyment that she was feeling. She knew that the woman was excited, there was not a way for her to hide it, she could smell it and just a touch of her finger would verify that the bound woman was more than just ready.
Her current plaything lay squirming and whimpering, her wrists tied to her ankles with some old paisley scarves. She wasn’t sure who had given those scarves to her, they weren’t her style but she had found a use for them anyway. Finally they were being used with an outfit that they could honestly accessorize. A rope was wound several times around each knee and threaded under the bed serving to painfully spread her plaything’s legs and keep her mostly immobile. A second rope encircled her hips, biting deep into her thighs and some creative knots and twists held both large vibrators deep inside. The slight hum given off in their lowest setting did nothing to distract from the delicious whimpers. The third rope, her favorite, was wrapped around her chest with both ends wrapped several times, tightly around the base of each breast. It had squeezed them, forcing them out and almost mushrooming from the top of the binding, elongating each and forcing her small breasts to appear much larger with the bulging ends showing as a tight purplish bulb. Each of the long nipples had been clamped and the chain connecting them was threaded through the collar she wore. She had an urge to extinguish her cigarette on one of those painfully beautiful breasts but she had agreed to the conduct of this meeting and reluctantly used the ashtray.
She reached over and traced the stretch marks on her plaything’s stomach, to her it was one of the most beautiful things on this woman, it connected them in a way that no man would ever share, and they were an intimate badge, a scar that proclaimed part of who she was. She looked at her own as she traced those spread before her and she smiled.
The squirming never stopped, she wasn’t sure if it was due to the 31 welts that marched from the back of her knees to just below her shoulder blades or if it was due to the bound breasts and clamps. She smiled again as she took another sip of coffee. It was just as possible that it was due to the dab of toothpaste she had thoroughly massaged onto and around her plaything’s clit. She had enjoyed using the leather crop immensely, mostly for the visual stimulation of watching the angry welts rise as if they were interlacing with the tattoos that seem to litter her plaything’s back but also for the sucking breaths that the woman before her took past gritted teeth as she counted with whimpered numbers.
She sat her coffee down and carefully twirled a finger from each hand into the chain above both clamps. A gentle tug was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as the whimpering stopped. A violent jerk and the breath was released as a silent scream, she watched fascinated as circulation was restored and the deformed nipples returned to their normal shape. Her plaything’s breath was coming in deep gasps, to regain her focus she slapped her hard across the cheek, accidentally busting her lip and leaving a handprint that would take time to fade. The sight made her stop, the pink of the handprint, the dark blindfold, the tears black with makeup and the trickle of bright red blood from the lip made her grab the camera and take a close up. Strands of sweat soaked hair framed it perfectly, this was one of those shots that could never be posed and she couldn’t let it pass.
She traded her camera for the crop, the real reason to remove the clamps had been to ensure that they didn’t interfere with her blows and she began to mark the front as she had marked the back. She pulled back as she whipped the bound breasts, as tight as they were it would be all too easy to break skin and she had promised no scars. But she redoubled the strength when she got to the stretch marks leaving vivid red against skin that seemed to be forever pale. She pulled back again as she left her marks on the thighs and on and around this shaking woman’s bound vagina.
Stopping more to catch her breath then because she was done, she took another sip of coffee, grimaced and let the sip drain back into the cup. It had cooled too much and was no longer what she wanted. She regarded this bound and marked woman, amazed that she had yet to utter a safe word. The drenched spot on the sheet between her legs was understandable, the line between pain and pleasure being blurred was one she understood well, but her refusal to end the pain intrigued her. Perhaps pain wasn’t her limit? She thought she might find a different limit then and stepped on the bed, straddling the plaything. Wry amusement flittered across her face as she began to piss, it was possible for women to piss standing up and they could aim regardless of what men may think. To her surprise the plaything got still then tilted her head up and opened her mouth. It didn’t appear that she wanted it, and it didn’t seem to be something she would enjoy, but she was desperately trying to please and in so doing showing that she was trainable. She squatted and let her pussy come to rest against the open mouth of her plaything, letting the rest drain and grunting with a mixture of pleasure and approval as she began to clean. She let herself orgasm as she rubbed her urine into the welts displayed before her, hoping the salty liquid would burn.
She let her full weight settle on the blindfolded face and leaned down, tasting the minty tang of an excited clit that had been sensitized with toothpaste. First just a taste and a lick then deep sucking, trying to pull as much of the hooded flesh past her pursed lips as suction would allow, then quick sharp nips with bared teeth. She would occasionally lift her weight allowing a quick breath as she alternated between pleasure and pain. She worked her fingers along side the vibrator, eventually getting three fingers of each hand squeezed in with the buzzing monstrosity and she felt plaything’s entire body go rigid and felt the scream through her own crotch as plaything had one final painful screaming orgasm. She removed her fingers, amused at the space showing around the fake cock; she fixed it by using clothespins to clamp the loose folds of skin to the surrounding ropes and for good measure used one on the exposed sensitive clit as well.
She took a few more pictures, none of these were near the perfect shot that the earlier one had been but she would treasure these anyway. They would warm her later when she was alone and she would fantasize that the positions were reversed. Then she lay next to plaything, almost spooning the trembling pale woman. She kissed her gently, tasting makeup, sex, sweat and urine and then ending the gentleness with a painful bite to the bloody lip, sucking the saltiness onto her tongue. She pulled the blindfold off and looked into plaything’s eyes. She lay close next to her for a while, looking into those eyes as if searching, and then she began to talk to plaything, not in a whisper but in the low crooning quiet voice mother’s use with injured children. As she talked, she gently traced the welts and the ropes that crisscrossed the body next to her. Plaything quieted, the trembling ended and her body relaxed in its captivity and she smiled as she closed her eyes and listened to the quiet voice.
She got up and padded into the living room, pausing in the kitchen for fresh coffee. She smiled at her husband when he looked up. “Your turn” she said. Eagerly he went to take her place and as he left the room, her smile hardened and her eyes went gray.
Plaything looked at him as he came into the bedroom and for the first time uttered a safe word. It was the one that meant stop immediately and release. He complied quickly and she was grateful that he didn’t use the opportunity to grope her. When she was loose he asked if she was ok, she smiled at him and told him that she had never been better and was exactly where she wanted to be. His look of confusion, disappointment and hurt let her know he didn’t understand, so she told him… “She promised me she would punish me if I refused you”. Then she stood on shaky legs and painfully limped to the next room looking for the woman and leaving the frustrated man behind on the piss stained bed.
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