Fiona's Bonds of Intimacy (m/f)

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calebtras
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Fiona's Bonds of Intimacy (m/f)

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“What's this?” Fiona dangled the vibrator from two fingers like it had cooties.
I deflected. “What you doing in my backpack?”
“What other dirty secrets you got? Should I strip-search you?”
I was surprised Fiona, a 'good girl'— in those days in Irish Catholic Brooklyn, that had a very specific meaning—even knew what the vibrator was for. When I first saw her at a college lecture, she stood with arms crossed, hunched, as if to hide the swell of her breasts. What attracted me was her luminous eyes, how she didn't know how mesmerizingly beautiful she was, in the question and answer her voracious curiosity.
I said, “The vibrator's for you.”
“You watch me play with myself, like a peeping Tom, and the pleasures all mine.”
Something in my expression told her I wanted darker. “No. Not your style. You were planning to tie me up and torture me with this.” She put the vibrator against my forehead and turned it on. “Weren't you.”
“Cut it out!” The vibrator felt like a jackhammer on my skull and I slapped it away. “Sure, I was going to use it on you. And tying you up did cross my mind. But we'd talk it out first.”
“What made you think I'd ever let you tie me up and assault me with an appliance?”
I'd been working tie-ups into our sex life for several month. (I wrote about our first tie-up in “Brand New Tie.”) Fiona, former mile runner, absorbed the discomfort of being bound and worked her way to pleasure, never telling me to stop. But she wasn't into bondage.
I looked forward to doing her fantasy of riding horses bareback on a beach then making love in the water, me first working-out to bulk up, once we had money and time. I wanted her to share in my more self-centered bondage fantasies with genuine pleasure. I'd learn how to work the vibrator on her and it would do the trick for any position I tied her in. If she just did bondage as a duty, I worried one day she'd feel I was using her as a sex doll and refuse altogether.
In a fake Irish accent, “Well, lass, it's a known fact the Cassidy lads have the gift of gab.”
Fiona sat on my lap and when I squeezed her firm, round butt, slapped my hands away and pressed the vibrator against my nose. “So talk. This better be good.”
I'd been thinking why a girl who didn't enjoy bondage for its own sake should still explore it. “We both broke out of our hellfire and damnation childhood prisons to live in the big outside world and break our own trails. I was twelve when I secretly decided everything I'd been taught was bullshit, there were sins I liked, and I was going to try them out. Two years ago that woman professor of Philosophy of Religion taught you to re-examine your moral code, but . . .” Fiona was still up-tight, fighting her burgeoning sexuality and free-thinking ideals.
She turned the vibrator on and pointed it at me. “So you're the Abbot of sexual freedom and I'm a novice.”
“My Good Angel leads me in the paths of righteousness eventually, so why can't I have fun following my sex and bondage Bad Angel?”
“Your Archangel Slimeball,” she said. “Where'd you buy this? Times Square?”
This was before online porn and before the City theme-parked Times Square for tourists, when it was all prostitutes in hot pants and thigh-highs, guys jacking-off at peep shows, trans women self-pumped with hormones and silicone, and the only place to buy sex toys. “Yeah. Dirty book store.”
“Maybe you get turned on by nasty pictures and tying girls up, but I get turned on feeling loved and safe in the arms of a man who respects me as a person, not a plaything. Is my father right? You're bad for me?”
“Bullshit!” I hated her father, feared his continuing impact on her. “Yes, tying you up turns me on. I've liked tie-up games since before I knew what sex was, when I was a kid. I'm over being ashamed about it. You stopped going to Mass and your father believes that's shameful. I love the real Fiona, both the little girl who was almost broken, and the proud, independent woman with a good heart. If you saw yourself like I see you, you'd trust your own judgment completely.”
“Can I trust yours?”
“I want to sin with you, not against you. Trust me that I can do 'respect,' but I won't do 'safe.' We're experimenting—together. Trust I'll find a way to make the tie-ups work for you. Trust if I make you feel bad, you'll push me to make it right.” I brought down my rant a notch. “What's your mantra?”
“When we hurt each other, we work it out.”
“And mine is, 'No risk, no reward.'”

We sat naked on her father's bed. She tested the bungee cords I figured were less threatening than rope, wrapping them around her wrist and tugging.
When I kissed her, I felt tension in her body, but we stroked and caressed, rolling in the rhythm until she felt ready. She drew in a deep now-or-never breath and lay on her stomach. I placed her arms parallel on her back, and wrapped a bungee cord snugly around them.
As I knotted it, she asked, “Is this weird?”
“We'll soon find out.”
When she rolled over, I slid a pillow under her lower back to ease pressure on her arms. I spread her legs and tied each ankle to the bed frame.
“Doesn't hurt, does it?” I asked.
“I feel like a turkey for roasting,” she said.
“Let me baste you.” I licked from her belly up to her breasts and back down, where I concentrated on pleasing her. Arms and feet tied, she could only move her hips, straining against the cords. When she was bucking hard against my mouth, I turned the vibrator on and put it in place.
She squirmed away, “Annoying.” I had no idea how a vibrator worked. I had originally planned to have Fiona guide my hand until we both figured it out. Now I was on my own.
She was trying to see what I was doing, struggling to sit up. I gently pushed her down. “Close your eyes.” I tried different pressures, angles, positions as she pushed, pulled back, twisted, both of us learning what she responded to. I heard her gasp and soon her breathing was punctuated by sharp intakes. I lay beside her, kissing her, my leg across her hips. As I cuddled her and lost myself in my own pleasures, the vibrator slipped. I sensed her frustration. If I wanted her to do this again, I had to sacrifice.
I sat up, crossed my legs, and concentrated on her. I figured out Fiona's rhythms and beats, and that a penis attached to a pelvis is a blunt instrument compared to the tuning fork of a vibrator.
She twisted and strained against the cords binding her ankles, dragged herself forward so her knees were bent, legs splayed wide. Circling her hips, eyes tight in concentration, she gasped and froze. I held the vibrator steady as she nodded 'yes'. Easing away, she held her breath for a long moment; she thrust upward, whimpers and little cries, then backed away again; forward, thighs and abdomen rippling, a sharp yelp, rolling spasms, and she collapsed.
She lay still, eyes closed. While I'd liked playing maestro for my tied up girlfriend, now I felt a bit abandoned. I untied her ankles and massaged the thighs that had strained so hard. I turned her over and sat on her buttocks, kissing the back of her neck.
She whispered, “I'm helpless.”
I tensed. Fiona was all about taking control of her life, away from her father, the church, her feelings of guilt and anger from childhood. “Good helpless or bad?”
Eyes closed, she smiled. “Good.”
When I leaned down to kiss the side of her mouth, she felt my arousal. She said, “Do what you want with me.”
Words I'd longed to hear, but for next time. I sucked her toes, kissed her shapely calves and rounded buttocks, held her bound hands. I planned to enjoy having her tied up beneath me, enter her from behind, but by the time I reached her mouth for a soft kiss, she was fast asleep.
I untied her, lifted her in my arms, kissed her forehead when she murmured, and carried her to her bed. I cleaned up her father's bed, packed my bungee cords, and closed the door behind me.
calebtras
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Post by calebtras »

I welcome your comments and criticisms.
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OldTUGger
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Post by OldTUGger »

Very well done! A sensual tale well-told...
Links to all of my stories can be found here in the Story Catalog: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=46&t=6023
calebtras
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Post by calebtras »

Thanks. Sensual intimate stories stay with me.
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Canuck100
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Post by Canuck100 »

Somehow I had missed this story when you posted it. Lovely story. You have such a talent with words.
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