2024-04-05 - Session with Tim

Posted on April 05, 2024
Word Count: 2962

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It was supposed to be an easy session. My period started and the menstrual cramps along with constant bleeding was really making life miserable. It was only going to be light play.

It wasn’t. It was intense… just not how we normally play.

He started the evening by putting on my play collar. It’s a simple ritual that I thoroughly enjoy. It doesn’t mean we’re about to start playing. It’s more of a promise of things to come and a simple symbol of our dynamic. The feeling of him slipping it around my neck, closing it securely, and pulling me up by it for a kiss is always thoroughly enjoyable. As soon as I feel it, and his hands adjusting it, I always get that tingle . . . that rush . . . flowing through my body. Endorphins? Maybe? I don’t know, but it’s a chemical feeling that signals that I’m into it. Turned on. Excited. And maybe a little anxious.

I love that feeling. And I love him pulling me up to his lips by that collar. Feeling it tight and secure, and ungiving. I don’t fight it but it wouldn’t have let me if I tried, its soft edges don’t stretch.

And then we had dinner and watched some TV. The slow point of the evening. Most play nights he at least partially undresses me for dinner and TV but not tonight. I was feeling awful and appreciated not having that on top of it all. I’m uncomfortable without clothes, which usually enhances the session, of course. But it was nice to have a break from that this time.

He brought me painkillers for the menstrual pain, and after food, he cuddled against me until it was time to go upstairs. I had no idea what we were going to be doing for the play session but at least the pain killer had kicked in enough that the cramps were mostly ignorable, so I was hoping for something, but I didn’t know how much I’d be into.

We cuddled on the bed for a bit. I do love cuddling, but after cuddling on the couch for TV this is always the frustrating part of the evening for me. Like. We could cuddle downstairs and watch more TV. Why more cuddling here where there’s nothing else going on? But we cuddled and I asked what his plans were. A light session. Of course.

Finally he had me stand up and pulled off my shirt and pants, leaving me in my underwear – panties and camisole. I don’t normally get to keep my underwear, this was another kindness since I was feeling less than great. He had decided tying me up was a good idea and I quickly agreed. I love being tied up. He pulled out my rope and I watched with interest. I love my rope. I conditioned and dyed it myself. It was awful. Did you know that boiling hemp rope smells like manure? Well I know. But the result was this beautiful pile of hemp bondage rope. I love the smell of it. It no longer smells like manure, I swear. It’s a soft, earthy, plant-like smell.

He told me to lay in the center of the bed after he’d picked out the rope he wanted. He picked one of the red ones – the red ones are my favorites because the color came out so nice. The bed tried to eat me as I moved. It’s extremely squishy and requires extra effort to move around on it, but I did manage to get to the center and laid on my back.

While he was setting up the rope, wrapping it around my ankles, and adjusting it, and attaching it where he wanted it, he told me that when he has more attention for it I need to show him again how I chain my rope to keep it from tangling. It’s a simple crochet chain stitch but in rope format. No tangles, ever. As he was binding my feet together I was trying to describe the process as best I could without being able to demonstrate it. . . it’s a loop, and you pull the rope through the loop to form another loop, and then you pull the rope through that loop to form another loop . . . he insisted he would not remember and I’ll need to show him at another time. I continued to talk as he worked, not really thinking that just maybe he’s focusing on something more important than how I store the rope.

When my feet were secured to the bottom of the bed, together, he came and tied my collar to an anchor point at the top of the bed. It’s not really tight, but if I tried to move away it would keep me more or less in place. He cuddled up against me with a “there. Now you can’t go anywhere.”

He pulled the top of my camisole down below my breasts, leaving them exposed. “You know you could have just removed that.” Yeah, he knew, he decided this is what he wanted to do, and of course, it’s all about what he wants and how I can entertain him.

The rope on my ankles was tight. A little uncomfortable but not concerningly so. I was able to twist my feet around a little and find a comfortable enough position. It felt loose enough that I might have gotten a foot out if I tried. He mused that if he tied my hands I’d really be helpless.

Yes. Oh god yes please.

I don’t remember what I said but I encouraged him to also tie my hands. I love being tied up. I guess I was amusing enough because he got up and found some more rope.

While he was tying my hands I warned him that since he had said doing so would make me helpless I was absolutely going to attempt to get out. I didn’t mean I would struggle hard, but just, test the rope a bit. Because being tied up is the most fun if I know I can’t get out, and it makes me feel more genuinely helpless.

He tied my wrists together in the position he liked and with the extra length of rope leashed them to my feet so I only had so far I could raise them.

As soon as I was tied the chemicals again ran through me. Helpless. Helpless is such a wonderful word, and feeling. Knowing that I actually can’t go anywhere, can’t do anything, can’t wiggle my way out. I was secure, and at his mercy. His plaything for the evening.

I squirmed at the rope, testing it but also adjusting myself to where I was comfortable for the long term. As long as nothing was pinching or irritating it was good to stay.
Everything felt tight. Just on the slightly uncomfortable side of tight where I was pretty sure I’d be okay but the ropes were definitely noticeable. Nothing worried me though, so I adjusted as best I could and settled in, waves of excitement passing through me as I thought about my situation. Helpless. Other than one spot on my foot that felt just barely loose enough that I could probably squeeze out if I really tried, I felt genuinely secure.

He proceeded to cuddle me, captive to however much cuddling he wanted. Which was fine. Cuddling is a lot less boring when I’m squirming against rope. We talked a bit and I did a proper test of the ropes. I was pretty sure I could squirm a foot out and decided it was worth trying. I tried until the rope dug in painfully and I finally stopped. I was close. If it were a desperate situation I’d be able to hurt myself to get loose but I wasn’t willing to push through that pain just to make him retie my legs tighter. I didn’t want them tighter. They were already uncomfortable enough and secure enough I couldn’t get out accidentally, or even intentionally without hurting myself. I considered that more than sufficient for the evening to keep me captive and helpless.

The only other point of weakness was the tie on my collar. I was able to pull my legs up from the bottom of the bed enough that I could lift my hands just high enough to grab the rope on my collar. He laughed but then thought about it and adjusted the rope. He said this way gave me more slack – it didn’t, it was tighter for sure – and he put the knot up high on the bed where I couldn’t reach it anymore and had little chance of doing so even if I really tried hard.

I could squirm but I couldn’t get away. I couldn’t sit up. I couldn’t roll away. Helpless. Helplessly… cuddled. Cuddling, of course, is never enough.

He did eventually disappear to the toy bag. I had a small amount of apprehension – this would be an easy session right? No major toys?? I relaxed when he pulled out a small horsehair flogger. I had been worried about some of the nastier toys, but this was relatively harmless.

He proceeded to swish it and poke it at my breasts. It was not an unpleasant feeling. He was delicate with it, and then harder with it, but it never really hurt. I didn’t realize that this was just the easy warm up, though. He moved on to pinching at my nipples. It started soft and moved harder. He used his teeth, hard enough to be painful and proceeded to hold there with his teeth for several seconds while the pain built up and I whined and cried out.

At one point he slapped my face, very lightly. He moved away and I said something like “that’s okay, you can do that” to encourage him. His reply was “I know.”
Of course he knows. He can do whatever he wants to me while I’m tied up like this. My brain was fuzzy enough that all I really knew was that I wanted him to do that more and those were the only words I could grasp onto that quickly to encourage that.

He continued to mess with my nipples and slap my face as he felt like. He never hit my face hard but it built up with each impact. It was quite painful very soon, but never intolerably so. There’s something about a face slap that’s so different from other impact play. It’s surprisingly jarring, even when it’s not particularly painful. It’s a sudden impact that I rarely see coming, in such a sensitive location. And even when I do see it coming, it’s still pretty damned intense.

As he was doing all this, the thought came to me that it would be incredibly hot if we did breath play like this. When I’m actually helpless, when he could give or take my breath away as he felt like and, tied, the best I could do would be to squirm, maybe shake my head a bit, but otherwise I would be at his mercy.

Any chance I had enough thought for it I was trying to put together the words.
I want . . . no
It would be good if . . . no
You should . . . definitely no
And once I got the beginning, then what? “do … breath play”?? No.
Take… breath???? Words are hard.
I just couldn’t cobble the sentence together.

Thankfully, he eventually decided on his own that it would be a good idea. He said something like “you know what would be fun with you like this,” and I knew what he was talking about immediately. I knew because I’d been thinking it, wanting it, craving it, for a while now. Just stuck on the words at a time when words elude me. I think I whimpered, but all I could think was yes please.

He disappeared into the closet and came back with some bondage tape which he wrapped around his fingers, giving him an effective plastic seal he could apply and reapply over my mouth.

The tape covered my mouth entirely and formed a strong seal around, leaving me breathing from my nose. I looked into his smiling face and whimpered as I watched his other hand poise fingers around my nose… not actually pinching, but letting me see them, anticipate them. He grinned as he talked to me, telling me that he would take my breath at any moment, whenever he felt like it. He controlled when I was allowed to breathe.

I become very aware of my own breathing in moments like this. Where I’m staring up at him because there’s really nothing else I can do because right now all I can control are my eyes and my breath, and soon it won’t even be my breath. How do I breathe?? My panic wants me to take fast and shallow breaths, which very much works against me. I force myself to try to take larger, more normal breaths, trying to concentrate on breathing as normally as I can, to endure better. It’s up to him when I lose breath. It may be at the end of taking a breath, or worse, before I can even take one, leaving my lungs empty.

He pinches my nose shut, mercifully near the end of a breath, and I hear, quiet and calm, “Five.”
And I feel it shoot through me. Electric chemicals. This is amazing. This is terrifying. I love it.
“Four.”
He counts so slowly.
“Three.”
At least he didn’t start at 10 this time. He’s done that before.
“Two.”
I can make it. This is okay.
“One.”
Almost……

And then he let go. And I heard the whimper come out before anything else as the air left in my lungs released and I could breathe again. I believe he repeated this a few times before letting my mouth free to breathe fast and deep. If I could have melted into the bed I would have. It was intense, and I was completely his. He kissed me and I kissed him back, as hard and deep as I could. I craved him and everything he was doing to me. He did return the deeper kiss but not as hard or as deep as I was craving. I could not be satisfied, and he would pull away and there was nothing I could do – my neck was secured to he bed. I was stuck, at his mercy.

He increased the count to six. Six is a much harder number, especially if he starts before I’ve been able to breathe in. At one point I was able to open my mouth right between “two” and “one” and get more air. He corrected his hold to hold my jaw shut going forward, preventing me from being able to repeat that mistake.

He continued this way for a while. He would pinch and pull at my nipples. Bite them. Bite me. Kiss me but never as deep as I tried to encourage him to do. His stubble scraped at my face and my lips began to ache, but I continued to try, desperately, to pull in a deep kiss, find his tongue with mine and beckon it to my mouth.

At one point, he cuddled up next to me casually, and pinched my nipple hard enough to hold it tight while he ever so slowly pulled my breast around in a big circle by it, telling me the whole time how clothespins were great and all, but they didn’t really hold well enough. Fingers were much better for gripping, see? Indeed, his fingers held tight as he pulled it excruciatingly slowly in an arc, to draw a circle in the air with my nipple.

Finally, he decided we needed to wrap up. It was getting late, but I really had no concept of time at that point. I was completely his and could have been that way forever. I was disappointed when he untied my hands, but we weren’t done. He had me masturbate while he continued to torment me. It was unsaid this time, but I knew that I was to just keep masturbating no matter what he did. I remember being both excited and concerned about the idea of him cutting off my air while I masturbated.

The first time he did was electric. I thought I might orgasm right then and there. I didn’t. And I was glad for that because the orgasm is the end, and I didn’t want this to end. And he did it again, and again. Every time I was even more aroused than the previous time. I worried what would happen if I orgasmed while he had my breath? I was scared of what that might feel like which of course enhanced the experience. Would I feel desperate for air? Would I struggle and break free of the hold on his mouth? Would he let go?

Finally, I felt it coming, and it indeed was while he had my breath. But it hit right at the end. He said ‘one’ and my body tightened as it came. Or, I suppose, as I came. It went longer than usual and I just kept going as long as I could, knowing there was at least one more convulsion remaining for me to reach for until there wasn’t.

And we cuddled and talked about the session. How much I loved it. How intense it was.

It was a great session, and although it was light in the sense of impact play, it was definitely not a light session overall. It was intense.