Sarobah : Birthday Girl (M/F)

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Sarobah : Birthday Girl (M/F)

Post by Soraka »

By sarobah ۠Tue Apr 28, 2009 1:33 am

This story is somewhat risqué, especially the second part, but nothing too explicit. Nevertheless, here’s my NFBSK alert:
Warning! The following story contains nudity (whoa!), bondage (yikes!) and crystallized ginger (yum!).

Birthday Girl (Gift-Wrapped)

My birthday last December was a special occasion, and not just because it was my 21st. I was still recovering from a severe bout of pneumonia which had put me in hospital. It was my own fault, really. I belong to that marginally dysfunctional subset of society known as the overachiever. My illness was therefore due in large part to exhaustion caused by overwork.

Although my boyfriend Rob and I shared an off-campus apartment, for my convalescence I was living with my brother. This was necessary because Rob’s field of study took him out of town a lot at that time of year and he didn’t want me left alone. As a result, Rob and I weren’t able to spend much quality time together. Sex was a rare treat and our tie-up games were put on hold. So I thought how wonderful it would be for us to reignite the passion on my birthday.

That afternoon, while he was out, I went to our apartment to make the arrangements. We had a small balcony where I set up a table with candles and flowers, elegant silverware and fine crockery, crystal glasses, soft music – all the accoutrements for an intimate dinner. I even designed and printed a menu. It included two items for dessert, sweet and tart. In case you haven’t guessed, the tart was a picture of me in a tiny black negligee.

Of course, as the worst cook in the known universe, I wasn’t going to spoil the meal by actually preparing it, so I ordered a banquet to be delivered. When Rob arrived home, I greeted him at the door in my prettiest lace camisole and frilly French knickers. I made him change into his best (indeed only) suit while I poured the wine and selected the perfect ambience music.

Exactly on time, the caterers bearing our feast arrived. I felt flirty enough that I was going to answer the door déshabillé; but Rob prudently hustled me into the bedroom while he settled the account.

As we sat down to begin the entree, I put on my most coquettish expression, slipped the straps of my top off my shoulders and tilted my head in the direction of the potted palm standing nearby. Draped over its fronds were – I am so, so subtle! – a crimson silk scarf and a coil of soft nylon rope. Rob got up from the table, came round behind me and gently tied my blindfold in place.

Eating dans le noir is a most exotic and seductive culinary experience. Stripped of your normal visual cues, your senses of taste and smell are enhanced, and that heightens your awareness and appreciation of flavours, aromas and textures. You cannot be sure what you are putting in your mouth, so the food slowly reveals itself on your palate. Without your eyes to guide your movements, each morsel becomes an exploration, each sip of wine an adventure, requiring your utmost attention as you carefully manoeuvre your knife and fork so as not to send foodstuffs into low orbit, cautiously feel for your glass so you don’t knock it over. You put your trust in your sighted partner for his guidance, so you don’t spill the drinks or end up eating the roses and candles.

The sensual experience was subtly enriched by a cool breeze which drifted across the rooftops, wafted through the courtyard and caressed my bare skin. I shivered a little, and coughed a couple of times. Rob was concerned and suggested that we move inside; but I didn’t want to spoil the mood. Anyway, goosebumps can be sexy too.

When it was time for dessert (the sweet one), without saying a word I rose from my place, plucked the rope from the tree and positioned myself beside my man still seated at the table. Turning to face away from him, I put my hands behind my back and he bound them, taking his time to allow me to fully savour the feel of the nylon cord as it tightened around my wrists. Then I sat in his lap as he fed me pieces of candied fresh ginger and spoonfuls of chocolate mousse. He held a cup to my lips and I sipped lime-blossom tea.

When the meal was over, Rob declared that he was not clearing up on his own. He took off my blindfold and untied my hands but immediately retied them in front, so I could help with the chores but still enjoy the sensation of the rope. Actually, I did most of the work, but I like a challenge and I didn’t drop anything breakable. After we’d finished, Rob put me over his shoulder and carried me to the bedroom. He secured my bound wrists to the headboard. Then I got my extra special birthday present.

****

On my 20th birthday, Rob and I had just moved in together. I was hoping we would have the whole day to ourselves, but duty intervened when the head of my department decided to call an academic staff conference for that afternoon. Despite heroic efforts, I couldn’t get out of it and arrived home around five o’clock, tired and frustrated, to find my love waiting for me with dinner. It was nothing elaborate but very romantic. Unfortunately I spoilt the mood when Rob gave me a present and I got angry, because I had given him strict instructions not to. We were both poverty-stricken postgrad students, and I considered birthday gifts under such circumstances to be trivial and wasteful. Of course, I immediately regretted my tantrum, so we kissed and made up.

Rob proved his moral superiority when he asked me what I really wanted for my birthday. In response, I said “Wait here, sweetness” (so he wouldn’t think I was storming off in a huff) and left him in the living room. I went to our bedroom and brought out my little “treasure chest”. It’s just a shoe-box in which I keep my special toys – red rubber ball-gag, soft nylon rope, blindfold, etcetera; but my guy’s eyes bulged a little when he beheld it. At this stage in our relationship he was still new to tie-up games.

I placed the box on the dining table (which adjoined the living room space). I was still feeling bad about my outburst, and guilt can be a powerful aphrodisiac. So I knew what I had to do. It’s a lovely feeling when reality and play begin to merge and you suddenly see, with crystal-clear clarity, where you want to go and how to get there. But then, I’d had nearly ten years of practice.

Rob was standing beside the table, pondering the box and its contents, when I knelt down on the living room carpet and told him: “I’ve been a bad girl.”

He was having more trouble than I keeping a straight face, but eventually he responded. “And what should your punishment be?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” I thought.

“Can’t you think of something?” I said.

He started rummaging amongst my toys. There is only so much rummaging you can actually do in a shoe-box, but that was not the point. He was keeping me waiting, and I started to itch and twitch. Finally, without looking up he waved a hand casually in my direction and ordered me to get off my knees.

There was another long pause. Though I was standing rigidly to attention with my head bowed, out of the corners of my downcast eyes I could see he was maintaining his nonchalant façade. Then he said, so casually, “Take your clothes off.”

Even as I started to move, he interrupted: “On my command.” His tone was conscientiously bland.

With single word directives, he told me what articles of my clothing to remove. He took his time and mine, to enable us both to experience the intensity of each and every moment. I began with my shoes. I placed them on the floor beside me. Then I took off my jeans. Rob instructed me to fold them and place them on the chair nearest to me. I did so and returned to my spot in the middle of the room. My blouse was next. After the first button, he told me to slow down, so that he (and I) could taste the full sensual flavour of my undressing. When eventually all the buttons were undone, I drew the blouse off my shoulders and let it slide down and from my arms. Then I folded it and set it on top of my jeans.

Before we continued, Rob made me perform a couple of slow pirouettes with my arms raised above my head. He said how beautiful and sexy I looked in my socks and underwear, and I blushed. I only just managed to suppress a giggle. After that, the socks came off. I fondled them for a second as I lay them atop my discarded blouse.

“Now your bra,” he said, and I slid the straps from my shoulders, again very slowly, then reached behind my back and unfastened the clasp. While I was doing this, Rob had begun taking the items out of the box and was arranging them neatly on the table-top, pretending not to be watching me. I knew he was, and he knew I knew. It was part of the game; and for all his naïveté when it came to tie-up play, he was uncommonly skilled in raising the sexual tension.

“Now finish it,” he commanded. “Take off your panties,” he added – unnecessarily, since I had nothing else to remove. When I had added my knickers to the forlorn little bundle on the chair, I returned to the centre of the room and again waited.

Rob took his time, prolonging my suspense. When finally I felt ready to burst, he commanded me to put my hands behind my back. He circled me a couple of times, like a prowling beast of prey, trailing the silk scarf across my naked shoulders and breasts. He placed it over my eyes, caressing my cheeks with his hands as he drew it behind my head and secured it. Then he bound my wrists with the nylon cord.

Rob continued to draw out each moment for as long as possible. When I felt the light pressure of the rubber ball against my lips, I opened my mouth and accepted my gag. Then I was ordered to kneel, and to bend forward until my forehead rested on the carpet. When he touched the outsides of my thighs, I felt inside me a tingling of anticipation; but he drew his fingers down my legs and took hold of one of my ankles. He placed it over the other and tied them.

Once more he left me, to contemplate my sins. After a long wait, he said: “Are you sorry for how you behaved?”

Through my gag I mumbled an apology.

“Good girl.” He patted my raised behind. “Here’s your reward.”

He had me stretch me out on the carpet, flat on my stomach, then turned me over. I was compelled to lift my midsection by pushing on the floor with my feet, in order to shift my weight onto my shoulders and off my bound arms. With my ankles tied in a crossed position, Rob could part my knees without causing me too much discomfort, and he lowered himself between them. With one hand he gently stroked my face and played with my nipples. I felt the knuckles of the other hand rubbing lightly against my belly as he opened his trousers.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered.

Sarobah
Australia


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BoundJana
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Post by BoundJana »

That was great ^-^ thanks for re-posting it here!
What are you waiting for? Finally put a gag in my mouth and play with me!
Deleted User 4555

Post by Deleted User 4555 »

This was quite charming. I love it!
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