FRIDAY ^#32

Spread-Eagle

I pinned Violet against the futon and positioned my hips between her legs, then spread her legs wide while maintaining a passionate kiss. “How do you feel when I split you open?” I whispered.

“I’m so vulnerable!” she protested, her skirt hiked up to her waist.

I spread her legs farther until her purple lace G-string was totally exposed. “How would you like to be rigged to a spreader bar so you can’t close your legs, even if you tried?”

“Do I have a choice?” Violet said, both thrilled and resistant.

“And then I want to stretch your pussy open even wider with my fist,” I said, prying Violet’s panties down her ankles. I made a show of drawing them to my face and inhaling.

Violet hastily unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a matching purple bra. The lacy half cup held her round breasts in place as she pulled off her shirt. Then off with the skirt, and finally, with a flick of my fingers, I unbound her boobs.

I felt unbearably blessed to have such a masterpiece in my bed, naked and willing.

Violet’s mouth was drawn to my face like a magnet. Her octopus-like limbs reached around my back, trying to peel off my top. But I stopped her—I needed my composure.

I grabbed the duffel bag at the foot of the futon and fumbled around to produce a stainless-steel spreader bar, complete with Velcro wrist and ankle restraints, brand new, still in the original box.

“Oooh . . . it looks like a torture tool,” Violet squealed.

“Damien gave it to me weeks ago, so you can relax knowing that he knows all about my little plan.”

Truth is, I didn’t have much of a plan. I felt a hint of the old familiar imposter syndrome rearing its head. I reminded myself that the success of a scene doesn’t depend on toys and gadgets, but the emotional connection. Instead of praying for courage and setting intentions, I decided to blindfold her. I tugged a decorative scarf from my duffel bag and hoped it would obscure my insecurity.

“Are you ready for this?” I asked.

“Ready for anything, my Queen,” Violet said, and I felt her body relax under my touch. I planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, throat, heart, belly. . . . I took my time at each chakra.

Violet moaned with each kiss. Whenever the good queen is present, Violet is held in a field of love and trust. But as I approached her nether lips, I could feel the blood lust of the dark queen. I felt torn between the hunger for instant gratification and the sweetness of anticipation.

Then I remembered her flower is a gift, a rare blossom, like an edible fruit that must not be eaten until perfectly ripe. Violet lifted her hips, beckoning her queen to consume her, but I simply sampled with a few sweet nibbles. I didn’t dare ruin my appetite.

With a firm grip, I trapped Violet’s wrists and dragged her diagonally toward the bedpost where I could restrain her hands. Consciously, Violet knew the cuffs were easy-release Velcro, but I told her to imagine the restraints were iron shackles and she was in a medieval dungeon. Once I fixed her to the bedposts, I pinched her sensitive nipple, and she howled like an animal being drawn out for slaughter. I then administered a slap to each of her inner thighs.

The second set of slaps were delivered simultaneously to both of her stinging thighs. Then I made her wait…so she would be wondering what was coming next. Uncertainty is known to induce a submissive spell.

Then the hungry queen bit her open inner thighs and began plucking at Violet’s flower with firm fingers. Violet squirmed at the sensation of teeth, then nails, and eventually yelped when I landed a flat hand on her flower, crushing it.

The dark queen was not seduced by Violet’s pleas. I felt eager to humiliate my subject. I turned my attention to the new toy in its long cardboard box. Violet whimpered when she heard me crack into it.

“No whining,” I said as the crumpling sounds turned into cold metal clanking. I grabbed Violet’s ankles roughly and strapped her to the spreader bar. But her legs only slightly spread—not even as wide as her arms! I fidgeted with the contraption, desperately trying to expand its length, to no avail.

I stood on the futon and lifted the bar toward the sky, carrying Violet’s legs with it. Her spine rolled easily into a shoulder stand. I peered at her yoni from above. It seemed so helpless, suspended midair, but not for long. I rolled her back down onto a pillow I positioned under her hips. “I have total access to your flower, you can’t close your legs or get away.”

“Is this as far as it spreads?” Violet said, speaking my disappointment.

“The damn bar doesn’t extend,” I growled, “so this is all you get.”

“Are you serious?” she whined.

To which I pinched and flicked at the hood of her clit.

“Ow!” She squirmed. “You’re being nasty.”

“Are you questioning me?”

“Sorry my Queen.”

“I’m going to have to spank you for talking back,” I said, and I spanked her inner thighs a few times each. Then I stood up. “This will not do! Wait here.” I laughed and swung the door open so she could feel the cool outside air against her skin.

“You’re just going to leave me like this?” Violet cried.

“Not only am I leaving you naked and unfucked, but I’m leaving the door open so anyone can walk right in. A nosy neighbor could just come in and take advantage of you.” Violet froze and remained silent, listening as I left the playroom.

After a minute, I returned with a broom and duct tape from the garage. I brushed the bristles against Violet’s side and her nipples immediately puckered. “You are a filthy slut and I’m going to clean you up with this peasant’s broom.”

She shivered and squealed, and I couldn’t tell if she was titillated or irritated. I continued sweeping her legs and toes.

Next, I repositioned the broomstick in place of the small spreader bar and taped her ankles to the wooden dowel.

Violet stiffened at the sound of duct tape ripping as I unrolled it and fastened her feet farther apart. Next I landed a breathy hot kiss on her mouth. “I’m going to miss your lips,” I said, holding the big gray roll close to her face. “Take your last deep breath from your mouth, and then breathe only through your nose,” I said before spreading the duct tape across Violet’s face. “I don’t want any more objections from you!”

Still unsatisfied with the distance between her legs, I ripped one of the curtain rods off the wall and let the curtains spill recklessly across the dresser and partially onto the floor. Even though Violet couldn’t see or speak, I’m sure she could feel the whole room grow brighter. I unbound her ankle from the broomstick and refastened it to the cold curtain rod. I extended the bar as far as it would go and used the duct tape to hold the adjustable joint. Finally, her legs were split wide.

Her milky thighs were exposed, and her yoni was in full blossom. I stood back to admire my work, and momentarily took pity on my dumb, blind hostage. She was bound, gagged, and deprived of sight, so she couldn’t share in the appreciation of this moment. With a sigh, I decided to remove the blindfold.

Violet’s pupils took a moment to adjust, but when they did, she had an intense look of adoration toward her captor. I left the duct tape on her face because it pleased me. I asked her if she felt exposed because the window was naked and anyone could walk by and see her completely spread-eagle.

“Mmmm-hmmm.” She nodded.

Next, I sat between her legs and ripped open a condom. Then I held my fingers together as if holding a pinch of salt. With my free hand, I rolled the rubber down my fingertips, and stretched it over my knuckles, ending at my wrist. “This is going inside of you,” I said, wiggling my fingers as if fitting into a glove.

Violet made a muffled sound.

I applied lube. “You’re already sopping wet, but I’m going to use extra lube since you’ve never been fisted,” I said, massaging her wetness with my bare hand.

If Violet wanted to close her legs, the curtain rod wouldn’t let her. I could tell by the way her flower was visibly opening that she wanted more. I strummed her clit with my bare fingers. I propped my elbow against my hip bone and held my hand as if it were an enormous erection. I entered her slowly at first with the tips of my fingers. When I felt her soft tissue surrounding my hand as far as I could go, I began a steady rhythm and opened her farther. Little by little I slid deeper, until eventually even my thumb was swallowed by the natural rhythm of her arousal.

Violet was trying to help by rocking her hips, but we stalled out at my knuckles. I leaned forward and kissed Violet’s duct tape.

That did nothing for either of us, except make Violet laugh a little.

“I love you, baby,” I said, gazing into her eyes.

The fantasy realm dissolved and my heart flooded with love and light. Even though there was still duct tape over her mouth, Violet seemed to be saying it back, I love you. I love you. I love you, with every piston of my hand.

Then suddenly, I was in.

My whole hand was inside her.

Violet’s eyes grew wide. I’m sure mine were just as large. Our mirror neurons were firing in perfect sync. We were both panting in rhythm, with no separation between us. My hand still dancing in and out, we were two women who felt like one. She’d never let me so deep, and I’d never felt closer.

In a flash, the dark queen was back, feeling deliciously naughty. Violet transformed into an insubordinate little maidservant seeking punishment for her sins. Violet began moaning, and the duct tape over her mouth worked itself partially free. As if in an act of mercy, the queen leaned in and ripped it off.

“Thank you,” is all Violet could say. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” I knew she wasn’t thanking me about the duct tape, but for the waves of pleasure that streamed through her body.

I received her gratitude and silently returned it with the voice in my head: Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for being trustworthy. Thank you for letting me in. Thank you for being you.

Overcome with Eros, energy, and emotion, Violet cried, “I feel full . . . So full.”

“You want me to slow down?”

“A little.” And Violet said, with foggy eyes, “I love you.”

“I know.”

“Hug me.”

I paused the movement of my wrist and held her with my free arm. Violet tightened around my hand, then suddenly she opened. She felt so vast inside. “Want more?”

“Hold on.” She took a big breath, then her whole being relaxed. “No. I’m full.” After a few more breaths, she said, “I’m ready for you to pull out.”

“Okay, I’m moving slow,” I said as I withdrew, holding my free hand at the entrance like a temple guard. Watching over her, ready to respond to her every whim.

“What do you need baby?”

“Cuddles.”

No sooner did I unbind Violet’s arms, then they were wrapped around me.

The entire queendom disappeared like a dream. All games were gone. Illusions lifted. We were just two naked women, spooning on a queen-sized futon.