A Birthday Treat






I was getting ready to go out when I first noticed the breeze.  I was going to meet someone at a club, a very exclusive club, and I had selected an outfit that met the ambience of that club – a little daring, but I thought it suited me.


The top was dark, and sheer, so that it was clear I had – well, nothing on my upper body underneath.  The sleeves came halfway down my forearms, and there was a black fake fur on the top, like a scarf or shrug.  My skirt was short, and black leather, and I had on sheer stockings, the topes of which were quite visible.  A pair of long black leather boots with a there inch heel completed the outfit.


So when I went into the front room, and sat on the leather couch, picking up a magazine and flipping through it, feeling the breeze on the back of my neck was unexpected.  But then, so was the leather gloved hand that pressed down firmly over my mouth from behind, and the deep male voice saying “don’t say a word, don’t move, do nothing.”


Well, it certainly took me by surprise, as I inhaled the scent of the black leather, and mumbled something like “Whtddhuhwhnntt?”


“I’m glad you asked – I want you to do exactly what I tell you to do, and to do it immediately.  Do you understand?”


I could have argued, I suppose, but the shock had taken me by surprise, so I nodded and said “whtduuwhtnmhthdhh?”


“To be quiet when I take my hand away – will you do that?”  When I nodded again, the hand went away – but instead, I felt two strong hands pressing down on my shoulders, as he said “where is your mobile phone?”


“In…  In my purse…  Over there,” I whispered, and I felt the pressure as he squeezed my shoulders before saying “good – good.  Now, I want you to shuffle forward a little – just a little – and then put your hands behind your back.”




“Just do it,” he said, quietly, but authoritatively, so I shuffled myself forward as the leather of my skirt squeaked on the leather of the couch, and then leaned forward and put my hands behind me.  I felt the hands move from my shoulders and down my arms, and I had to supress a shiver as whoever this was crossed my wrists – and then I felt soft rope as it was wrapped round them, pulling them together.  It felt soft, supple – but as he pulled on it, forcing them together, I felt how strong it was as well, especially as he wound it round several more times, and then took it between my arms as well.  I waved my fingers round as he gave it one more tug, and then tied the ends off, before he put his hands on my shoulders again.


“That’s a good girl,” he said quietly, “sit up straight now.”  I did as he asked – and then I saw a band of white rope, doubled over, as he took it down in front of me and wrapped it round my chest below my breasts.  He then did something behind my back, and then I felt the rope pressing on my stomach and my arms pressed into my sides.


It was a strange feeling, and made stranger still as he wrapped it round my arms and body above my chest, then below, then above – and with each pass, he pulled the rope tighter, making it more and more difficult to move my arms – but there was something else.  The tension was stretching my top – and it was a sheer top, with me wearing nothing underneath.  Do I really need to explain what I was seeing as I looked down, the ropes forcing my chest up and out as well as stretching the material?


I then saw his arms as he fed more of the rope under my left arm, between it and my body and under the lower band of rope.  He, whoever he was, was wearing a black jumper, as he fed the rope under, and then pulled it up and back, the white forming a deep impression on the black ruff as it was pressed down.  The man then lifted my long blonde hair out of the way as I felt the rope on the back of my neck, and then over my right shoulder as he fed it under the band there.


The result was to make the bands even tighter, and as I felt him tie it off I wriggled round, feeling the ropes on my chest as I did so.  I could almost see my nipples through the tightly stretched material – and I was sure he could see them as well, as I felt his hands on my arms.


“Stand up,” he said quietly, “and do not move.”  I managed to push myself up as I heard footsteps – and then there he was, in front of me.  He was as tall as me, slim, but the tight fitting sweater meant I could see the muscles underneath, and the washboard chest.  He was also wearing dark jeans, black shoes – and a black balaclava over his head, only his blue eyes and thin lips showing.


“You are a very beautiful woman,” he said quietly, as he stared at me, and then he held up a long doubled over length of rope.  I watched, wondering what he was going to do with that – and then I found out as he passed the rope up under the bands of rope at my chest, between my breasts, and then fed the end through the loop and pulled it down.   That made the bands tighten even more round my breasts, squeezing on them, and I really did feel the pressure, while at the same time wondering something else.


That was a long length of rope – what was he going to do with the rest of it?


I found out soon enough, as he let the ends drop down after tying a knot, and then walked behind me.  As I glanced down, I saw his gloved hand as his arm reached between my legs – and then bit my lip as he suddenly pulled the rope up and back, hiking up my skirt, but more importantly rubbing on my sex as he pulled it all the way up, and then secured it to the ropes behind me.


I was already feeling a little funny from the way those ropes were rubbing on me – but this rope was even more worrying.  You see, it wasn’t just my bra I had not put on under my clothing – and I could feel it rubbing on me as I twisted round, in a place that was going to make me feel very different if I kept doing it.


So – I had been tied up by a masked man, in a way that was beginning to have an effect on me I was not sure I wished to show – I mean, I’m no prude, but I had sometimes wondered how been tied up would feel when I watched a film or a television program.


That was when I gasped out loud – for a good reason.  Whoever this masked man was had reached round, and now his gloved hands were pressing firmly onto my chest, his fingers sinking into the flash as he started to grope me.


And massage me.


And make me giddy as my body seemed to want to respond.  Mind you, it didn’t help that I was twisting round, trying to get out of the way of his hands, which meant those ropes were rubbing me on my breasts, and between my legs.  IT was the strangest and most intoxicating feeling, as I saw another effect of his assault on me.


My breasts were framing up under the constraint of the rope bands, and my nipples were almost poking their way through the sheer material, they were becoming so prominent that I began to picture what would happen if he was to kiss them.


Which was the moment he picked to start kissing my neck and shoulders, as he continued to massage my chest – and I started to feel little electric shocks running through me, as I subconsciously started to push myself into his hands.


“Kneel down.”


My knees were starting to buckle anyway, just as I was beginning to feel a dampness between my legs, so I dropped down as gracefully as I could, kneeling down as the ropes rubbed more on me.


He walked round in front of me, smiling as I looked up at him, and then he reached behind me, as he tied one ned of the length of rope in his hands to the one between my legs – and then he held the end in one gloved hand, as with the other, he opened the front of his jeans.


I saw it as it emerged – large, clean, and when he said “kiss it” I did as he asked.  I had no idea why I had done it – but as he did, he pulled gently up on the rope, and I felt it rub on me, slipping between the petals of my sex as I groaned.


“Take it.”


I looked up at him, and he gently pulled the rope in his hands to and fro, making me groan, and as I opened my mouth he placed the tip of his engorged cock on it.  I gently kissed it, and he pulled the rope again.  Action, reward – that was what my mind was starting to think, as I put my lips round the tip and kissed it.  I then took his cock into my mouth, feeling it press my tongue down as he started to pull the rope to and fro.


It was wrong – of course it was wrong – but my conscious, rational mind was fading into the background, and my animal brain was calling the shots, craving what was happening to me as I started to gently suck on his cock, feeling it throb, feeling it grow larger in my mouth, and in return he gently pulled the rope to and fro, rubbing on my sex as I felt the dampness get greater, and a fire starting to burn inside of me, a desire, a lust.


A wanting, a yearning.


I sucked harder, bobbing my head to and fro as I did so, and at the same time he pulled the rope a little stronger, a little quicker, a little more firmly, as I groaned.  He was filling my mouth now, pressing on the back of my throat, the throbbing getting stronger and stronger on my tongue, and I kept going, wanting to taste more than the flesh and skin I could work on now.


The fire was getting stronger on me, in me, and I began to imagine what it would be like if that cock was somewhere else – but that dream passed very quickly, as I felt him jump, and suddenly the hot, salty, sticky flow hit the back of my throat.  I was shaking as well, as an orgasm started to take me at the same time.


I had to swallow – I wanted to swallow, drinking greedily, trying hard not to gag as I did so – and he kept gently pulling the rope to and fro as I did so, almost gently bringing me back down as I finally opened my mouth, a small white trickle coming from the corner of my mouth as I did so.


“Isn’t that better,” he said quietly as he knelt down and looked at me, taking a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiping my chin, my lips – before he pushed the cloth into my mouth, with an admonishment not to push it out.


I was still too dazed to do that, as I watched him take from a bag I had not noticed a roll of white tape, tearing the end free and pressing it against my cheek, before he started to wind it tightly round my head, pressing my cheeks in, holding my hair against the back of my neck – and turning my groans into low mumbles as he wrapped it round again and again.


When he had finished, he smiled at me, and then he took more lengths of rope from the bag, leaving one on the couch before he made me sit down and tied my ankles together, side by side, as I struggled in the ropes.  He did what I resume he did to my wrists, doubling the rope over, feeding the ends through the loop and pulling back so that they were forced together, winding it round several times in neat coils, then separating the ends and taking them between my legs so that the binding was even tighter.  He then tied the ropes off, and looked at me, spreading my legs apart as he moved the rope that had given me such sweet ecstasy to one side – and then kissed me on my sex.


Men had done many things to arouse me, but this – given how sensitive it felt anyway, this was pure passion as I threw my head back and pushed my hips up, pressing against his lips as he opened them slightly and used his tongue to lick slowly my juices.


It was the most glorious feeling as he did so, gentle, loving – and when his tongue slipped past my petals and licked inside, it found my sweet spots immediately as I closed my eyes and moaned.  He kept doing this as I wriggled round, feeling the fire grow once more, feeling the flow start again…


And then he started to move up, and I felt hi slips, wet from my fluids, as he encircled my hard nipples in turn and kissed them – actually sucked on them as his tongue ran over the tightly stretched sheer material would be a better description.  It made me giddy as before – more so in fact – as my dreams started to come true. 


When I opened my eyes, he pushed me gently against the chair back, and I watched as he dropped his pants, his manhood prominent again – whoever he was, he recovered quickly, and I saw my dream may be about to come true…


He knelt over me, his lips caressing my neck as I parted my legs as far as I could – and then he entered into me, as I gripped him tight, my body pushing up against his as he started to push to and fro, and I felt the throbbing I had sensed in my tongue inside me instead.


And that tension was growing again, inside me and I could sense inside him as well, as he continued to press forward, to kiss me, and I continued to rock with him, grip him, encourage him, desire him to feed and free my desires, my passions…


When he came, I threw my head back and screamed into the gag, the fires erupting in me as well as my whole body shook, and then I collapsed onto the floor, exhausted, sweaty, sperm and fluid flowing out of me as I opened my eyes and looked at him.


He picked up the length of rope on the couch and bound my legs together below my knees, making sure they were tightly secured before he picked me up and lay me down, rolled me over, pulled my ankles back, and tied the loose end of the rope he had held earlier to my crotch rope.  As he moved my ankles to and fro, the rope rubbed on me again, as he removed the balaclava and knelt next to me.


“Happy birthday darling,” my husband said as he kissed my gagged lips.  “Stay here, relax, unwind – I’ll sort dinner out.”


I watched through misty eyes as he walked to the kitchen, and then slowly started to move the rope to and fro between my legs…







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