by Alison Scott
Jack’s big hands grasped my waist as my feet touched the ground. Every muscle in my arms and legs was shaking from the exertion of the climb and the adrenaline was still coursing through my system. I looked up at him with shining eyes, but instead of smiling, his gray eyes fell to my climbing harness. Chastened, I unhooked myself from the braided nylon and called out obediently, “Off rope.” That got me my smile, and a hearty kiss for good measure.
“You did right well today,” he remarked. From Jack, this was high praise, since he rarely said much and never wasted words on flattery. I glowed with pride, and something farther down inside me started glowing too as he helped me off with the web harness, his hands inevitably touching my quivering thighs. Not so inevitably, they followed the straps enwrapping me to graze my crotch, and I felt myself getting wet as he smiled again. This time the smile was inward, with a hint of mischief, and I shivered with delighted anticipation.
Rock climbing was only one of Jack’s passions. The other, less public one made use of somewhat similar gear to bring on a different kind of rush from that of conquering a difficult pitch. I had been the beneficiary of his knot-tying skills both climbing cliffs and climbing to peaks of erotic pleasure, and I knew he still had a few more tricks to show me. Little did I imagine in the beginning that his appraising looks and burgeoning erection as he coiled the ropes were something more than a simple erotic appreciation of my womanly charms.
The bondage we had played with so far had been novice stuff, tying my hands over my head, fastening me spread-eagled on his big bed, or stretched out in the arch of a doorway. I had never done anything of the sort before I met Jack, but with him it seemed not only natural but utterly irresistible—giving myself over completely to this tall, strong, handsome man with the long arms and the hard muscles, allowing him to render me totally helpless and then do with my willing body as he pleased.
Just being there under his gaze, naked and immobilized, was enough to light a fire in my pussy. Even simple erotic gestures took on whole new layers of complex sensation when he had me bound. Actually, his eyes alone could hold me, but the caress of rope or webbing or leather restraints was another whole order of intensity. Just thinking about it made my overworked knees turn to jelly.
We had met several months before when I had on impulse joined a local rock-climbing club. I had figured it would be a stretch in more ways than one, something my body needed after days spent at my desk studying reams of legal papers and drafting documents few people would ever read. The idea of climbing up above the everyday world appealed to me, even more so when I discovered that Jack was to be the teacher for the beginners’ class.
His long, toned body looked good in shorts, and the webbing of the harness accentuated the interesting bulge between his thighs. It was obviously a full knot of man-flesh, not just the result of his shorts bunching up. I was intrigued, imagining heavy balls and a long, thick cock rising from its bed of wiry hair that would likely be a little lighter than his beard. His no-nonsense manner very quickly had me banish that appealing daydream and turn my attention to the artificial rock face that went up and up one wall of the gym. Finding the next anchoring place for my fingers and toes took all my concentration, even though I was still flushed from his impersonally professional touch as he had checked that my harness was secure.
A few days later I discovered that the big instructor had only seemed impersonal. He asked me out for a beer, then another time for dinner. I got him to open up about his climbing, and soon learned the technical jargon of his fascinating sport. After a few dates we just kind of fell into bed, and we’ve been enjoying truly blissful sex ever since then. The discovery that he is into bondage, though, has escalated the excitement immeasurably.
It began simply enough, with him holding my arms at full stretch on the bed, his elbows still bent as he stooped like a bird of prey and sucked hungrily at my nipples. My wrists felt deliciously secure in his callused hands, and I could scarcely believe the heightened edge their captivity seemed to be imparting to my every nerve ending. His mouth was warm and wet, and his lips pliant as he mouthed my erect nipples, his teeth beginning to nip and rub against the swelling flesh. Not only did my breasts feel heavy and hot with desire, but for the first time I seemed to have that hotline connection between my nipples and my cunt that other women have described to me.
Jack’s lean thighs were straddling me, his rapidly lengthening cock and balls resting on my leg as he sucked. His erection was like a small animal, moving restlessly in search of a comfortable place to nest, and my hips rose instinctively to beckon him inside of me. My whole pussy felt as though it must be a dark and radiant hot pinkish-purple, engorged and spreading itself open to reveal my slickly lubricated depths and the swollen nub of my clitoris. I wanted his cock inside me, nailing me to the mattress, but I didn’t want his hands to let go of my wrists. I was loving even this elementary captivity, and I didn’t want it to ever end.
He moved up a bit and sank down on me, resting his elbows on the bed, his face close to mine. His hips were still raised, but I could feel the moist plum of his cockhead nestling between my labia, his lithe body maneuvering it into position. His lips fastened onto mine, and as his tongue opened my mouth his cock drove into me, sending me into a frenzy as it rubbed past sensitive tissue to spear my very heart.
He stayed deep, moving in and out in short, hard strokes, his whole body covering mine, but not yet resting his entire weight on me. His furry chest came down to meet my aching nipples, scrubbing them with its coarse curls as his hips moved into a faster, longer stroke. Far from suffocating, I found his weight yet one more restraint, comforting and arousing by turns. Then his pistoning cock took me over the top and dropped me into a maelstrom of orgasm that sucked me down and down until I felt the bottom fall out of my universe.
A long time later, as his spent organ slid from my vagina, my eyes full of joyful tears, I told him in halting phrases how astonished I was that the simple act of being held like that could make me come with such amazing power. His reply was a tender smile, and a whispered promise that there was more to come.
We played with him tying my hands to the head of the bed and my ankles to its bottom corners, leaving me open and crazy for him as he sucked my nipples and explored my pussy with his prehensile tongue. I was able to move no more than my hips except to thrash my head around. This forced me to endure the sweet torment of his tongue far beyond any limits I had managed to mark out for myself when previous lovers had tried to overcome my old pattern of a long buildup to one hard but final orgasm. Jack taught me that being multiorgasmic was not just a braggart’s myth, and then he showed me that there were worlds of sensation even beyond that. Bound and helpless, I learned to let myself feel in a way I never had before, to be consumed, deliriously inebriated with passion.
That wasn’t even the half of it. There was the night he lashed my legs together like a bedroll, tossed me facedown and hips up onto a pile of pillows, and fastened my outstretched wrists to the bed frame. In this position I was as helpless as a bundle of laundry, with no fulcrum on which to raise my ass to meet him. The ropes around my legs made my pussy incredibly tight, and I wallowed shamelessly and luxuriously as his huge cock forced itself into my snugged-down passage again and again. I could do nothing to escape the sensations he was eliciting. All I could do, quite literally, was lie there and enjoy being so thoroughly fucked. For days afterward I treasured the bruised and swollen feel of my cunt and the fading marks that even his soft ropes left on my pale skin.
For a climber, of course, a rope and harness is more likely to be used vertically than horizontally, and Jack began to play with settings that featured hooks in the heavy lintel and door frame that led to his dining room. I might be semisuspended in padded leather cuffs, arms stretched over my head, toes barely touching the floor, while he caressed every inch of my body with fingertips and lips, waiting until I was almost screaming with need before picking me up and wrapping my thighs around his waist, plunging his limblike cock into my dripping-wet pussy.
The doorway also held me, legs as far apart as they would go, arms similarly outflung, while his fingers twisted and rolled my nipples, gradually increasing the roughness of his attentions until I almost fainted from the exquisite edge between pain and overwhelming pleasure. Sometimes he would kneel between my legs and lap my cunt, sucking in my inner lips and driving his tongue deep into me, fastidiously avoiding even grazing my clitoris until I was farther out in erotic space than I could ever have imagined. Then his lips would cup my clit and his tongue would circle it, zeroing in on its tender tip and sending me beyond the known universe altogether. While I was still shaking and my insides were still convulsing, he would rise and ram his cock home, reaming my pussy with the tender violence I craved.
I worshiped his body and even more the inventive mind that led me along uncharted paths of erotic bliss. Oh, yes, we hugged and kissed and cuddled like every other pair of lovers, but it was that dark fire kindled by his power and my helplessness that threw me into his arms again and again. The intricate web of white cotton rope he wove me into one night was a perfect symbol of how thoroughly he had me snared, a willing offering for him to feast upon, prey drunk on his magic elixir. Sometimes the pattern of my bondage was simple, as when I knelt to be tied—thighs, arms, and torso—to one of the supporting pillars of his back porch. His large, strong hands cupped my head and held it, viselike, while he spanked my face with the satin-skinned rod that was his cock, my cheeks and mouth feeling it grow harder with each stroke against my flesh.
Finally he put its plum-shaped head to my lips and bade me kiss it. My tongue crept out and dove into its deep groove and tiny slit, and my lips wrapped around him, feeling for the flange where the head joins his shaft. I licked around it, searching for the spot where the underside of his rod is tenderest, egging him on to fuck my face, to drive that wondrous tool deep into my throat. His hips were still, provoking me to greater efforts. Since I could not move down on his length, I set myself to torment his cockhead, to drive him crazy in the same way he made my whole body implode from his ruthless attention to my clit.
Ultimately his control broke and his fingers tightened around my head. I tried to relax my throat and tongue, but his thrust caught me unprepared as always. He was so hard, his cock so thick and long, that my throat convulsed involuntarily around him, but the quasi-gagging movement aroused him more. He began fucking my mouth and my chin was soon wet from his pre-come and my own saliva. My pussy was flaming, and I knew I was almost on the verge of coming without it even being touched. I tried to squeeze my thighs together, but at that moment I felt him begin to tighten and swell to his final thrust.
His pubic hair scraping my lips and chin, and my throat working spasmodically, I opened myself to receive the torrent of come that nearly overwhelmed me. Jet after jet of the sticky semen spilled over my tongue and finally escaped to join the other juices on my face and chin. When it was over, and his cock began to soften in my mouth, he gently pulled himself away from my reluctant lips and knelt to kiss me and untie me before carrying me carefully to bed and stroking my pussy the last little way to its own release.
The most amazing night of all began the most simply, with dinner and romantic music, a brandy by the fire, then hand-in-hand we mounted the stairs to his bedroom and his enormous Jacobean-style canopy bed, whose frame and pillars he had reinforced and anchored to the ceiling beams in order to support his most creative bondage ideas. On the bed lay a harness, its design origin evidently a simple rappelling harness, the sort that wraps around the waist and loops around the upper thighs. This one, though, was made from layers of wide cotton tape, like apron strings, instead of the coarse nylon we use for climbing. Also, there were many more loops than a normal harness would have, and a broad canvas strip that looked as though it would go from my hips to my shoulders.
What I was looking at turned out to be a cross between a harness and a sling, with carabiners and safety clips at the knees, waist, and shoulders. These hooked to climbing ropes descending from eyebolts in the top frame, and it was evident that I would be not just suspended but could be tilted in any direction he chose. As carefully as if we were to climb some crumbling sandstone needle, he fastened the loops around my waist and thighs, my torso and shoulders, and fixed the smaller sling that would be supporting my head.
“On rope,” I whispered, watching that trademark grin split his serious face. Pulling at the intricate pattern of ropes, he began to lift me off the bed until I felt myself floating, easily supported by the soft webbing, my legs spread wide, the air cool on my wet pussy.
I glanced down as he lowered my head and positioned himself. His cock, which had been only half-hard when he was harnessing me up, was now as stiff as a tree limb and sticking out as if in search of my depths.
When I was at the best angle for him, Jack belayed the rope to the nearer bedpost and offered the fever-dark head of his cock to my half-open lips. I took it hungrily, its heat already transmitting signals to my pussy. It was awkward sucking him practically upside down, and both of us were too eager to fuck to make it last as long as it could have. There would be time enough for that another night. I moaned and gripped the nylon ropes as he slowly pulled himself away, his wet head and veined shaft bumping against my nose and cheek and eyelid as he moved.
His hand stroked my side and felt for my nipples as he moved to the other end of the bed, carefully readjusting my angle of inclination and tying the ropes off securely. I was alive with the charged tingle of electric sex, but at the same time I was floating somewhere else above the clouds, totally secure and confident in Jack’s ability to handle everything.
His thumbs parted my labia and he set the bulbous tip of his cock to my vagina’s mouth. Reaching up for my sensitive nipples, he twisted them sharply as he thrust himself into me. I felt as though he had pulled my whole body onto his impaling shaft, using only those two outrageously sensitive and greedy nubs of flesh. Jack continued to tug and twist at my nipples as he settled his enormous cock deeper into me, then told me to continue playing with them myself.
If anything, I was rougher than he, caught up in the amazing contrasts of sensation. Points of fire from my breasts met the fiery path carved by his ferocious shaft, and he grabbed my hips, impaling me on its implacable steel.
I felt myself let go. The only tension in my body was in my fingers, and they were only extensions of his will, turning up the rheostat of my arousal until it passed the redline and I started to come, my feet beating helplessly around his waist. Jack plunged on, harder and deeper, cleaving a channel straight to my heart. He grunted, telling me to twist my nipples harder. I sensed him moving, and then felt a cold, wet finger rubbing at the bud of my asshole, lubricating it even as he continued to roger my cunt. I started coming and coming as his finger reamed me open, and then he jerked out of my quivering flesh in a sucking spasm that left me almost weeping with emptiness.
As abruptly as he had left my pussy, his cockhead was pushing insistently at my anus, refusing to be defeated by its instinctive pucker. The fat plum shoved past the outer barrier and something in my soul gave way. My pussy was still clenching with the aftershocks of one orgasm, but as his cock measured its length in my ass, his thumb began to roll the hard bud of my clitoris, insistent that I join him as he plowed my ass and released his seed.
One big hand and arm yanked me down onto his cock, then thrust me away until only the head remained inside me. Time and again I was turned inside out by the ruthlessness of his invasion, and I felt as if my whole being were melting into one superheated pool that glowed from ass to clit to breasts. My fingers were clamped around my nipples, digging my nails into their reddened tips as his thumb rubbed harder and faster at my clitoris and I rode his cock like a rocket into outer space. I dissolved around him. I no longer existed; I was only a pulsing glove around his swollen cock. Then even that much consciousness of separate identity went down in flames and I suddenly became a mere ripple in the torrent of his tremendous orgasm.
His hot come surged into my ass and his thumb shoved down hard on my clitoris, letting its last spasms bring me to the summit before spinning me down and down until I was completely still. Gasping for breath, I looked up at Jack in bleary wonderment. His spent cock hung limp, a mere shadow of the force of nature that had ravished me so. I sank back onto the mattress as he let me down gently, and he paused expectantly as he unclipped the final strand of the hanging cord.
I was barely able to articulate the phrase, but I whispered, “Off rope,” and he pulled me into his strong arms and kissed me, his lips full of tenderness.