We Met At A Party

Sex and Submission Story

We Met At A Party

He never asked if it was okay with me, and I put up no resistance as he tied me up. He took his time, whispering and kissing me as he pulled my arms behind my back. He knew what he was doing. He had tied up women in Bangkok and Rio the way he was tying me up.

We met at a party. He seemed to be in his mid thirties. I found him interesting, a bit hard to talk to. There was something different about him that appealed to me.
He was reserved, quiet and very smart. People said he was a real genius, an engineer of some sort. We talked in a corner the whole night. He told me how he had worked in Thailand for many years as an engineer. He had many fascinating stories about the culture over there. He had been to South America and all over the United States and Mexico. He was working on his Ph.D.. I found him interesting and he seemed to enjoy talking to me.
He said he did not go out with many women, only a few interested him. He said he saw something in my eyes that interested. We kissed. I would find him waiting for me in the parking lot after the party. He invited me to come to his house.
When we got to his house he told me I had to be quiet. He played classical music on his stereo. He had three unusual birds in huge bird cages and a huge aquarium with exotic looking colorful fish. He had a huge collection of books.
He was so utterly fascinating. He kept the lights off in the living room and lit several candles around the room. I thought that was very romantic.
As that night wore on I began to realize how truly unique this man really was. He was completely different from I had seen him at the party. I asked him questions about the countries he visited. He spoke to me in Spanish and Thai. He told me about the women he had met in Bangkok and Mexico. He told me how he love the dark complexions and long silky black hair of Asian women. He said the women in Bangkok are famous for being beautiful and sexually wild. He told me wild stories about a festival in Rio. I felt like I could not live up to his expectations. I was not exotic, or wild. I had never really been out of my hometown.
We started making out. He was very sure of himself as he unbutton my blouse and unzipped my skirt. He slipped of my heels and massaged my feet. I wriggled my hips to help him pull off my pantyhose. He got me undressed down to my brand new, never-before-worn white lacy bra and panties. He liked me that way. When I reached behind my back to unhook my bra, he grabbed my wrists. He would not let me undress the rest of the way while he played with me. I was impressed. He is such a good kisser, nice soft lips and he has awesome hands. He complimented my tan, praised my body and melted my heart when he leaned down and gently kissed my belly button. He praised my cheekbones, saying I had good bone structure. He told me I had beautiful eyes. He said I reminded him of a woman he had gone out with in Thailand. He would not say why.
His hands enthralled me. I was glad I had come with him. He was such a good kisser and he liked to kiss, every where. He kept me in me underwear and blew on me through the silky fabric, making it wet and warm, making me shiver. And those hands!!! Those incredible, wonderful hands.
After a while he brought out this lighter with a big flame. He held the flame up to my face, waved it around so close I felt the heat on my skin. In the darkened room the flame was hypnotic. I found myself mesmerized, lulled. The hypnotic effect was heightened by his silence, the meal I had eaten and the four glasses of wine. I watched the flame, mesmerized, unmoving. His voice was a lulling, low whisper, further tranquilizing me.
He was trying to scare me and he enjoyed making me flinch. He enjoyed scaring me and hurting me a little. He laughed whenever he could get me to jerk away from the flame. I couldn’t jerk away too far, because he had a hold of my hair. I asked him to stop, but he wouldn’t. I started to cry. When I cry my lip trembles. He liked that. He said it was sexy. Men usually try to comfort me when I cry, but he didn`t.
I knew I would never forget his knowing smile and intense gray eyes. He really enjoyed himself. He burned strands of my hair, making it just disappear with a little bit of smoke. But I didn’t move. Inside I was terrified, but I couldn’t believe he would really hurt me. My heart was pounding wildly every time he brought that flame near me.
He waved the lighter around, bringing the flame closer and close to my face. He liked the way my eyes got bigger and bigger. I wasn’t so sure anymore that he wouldn’t hurt me. I began to wonder. He never quite burned me, but he came close enough I could feel the heat against my lips and cheeks.
When he got tired of that he reached between my breasts and hooked a finger under my bra. He slowly pulled my bra away from me an inch or so and held the flame there. The flame flared suddenly, making me scream a little in surprise and the delicate, silky material of my bra just melted away, revealing my naked breasts in the flickering candlelight. He reached down and hooked a finger into my panties. I knelt there motionless, feeling the heat against my hips as he burned my panties off me.
I had not been with many men before and it is always intensely exciting for me that first moment I am naked with a man. Every sense is magnified. I remained motionless, watching him shyly, waiting for his reaction as he looked my naked body up and down with that appraising look. I bit my lower lip nervously, worried that he would be disappointed with what he saw. Maybe my breasts were too small. This was not a guy from my neighborhood, but a sophisticated man who was incredibly educated and well traveled. He had made love to beautiful women from all over the world. How would I compare to some exotic Asian beauty? I felt like a common small town girl competing with exciting, wild Asian and South American women. I was surprised at how exciting it was to have my underwear burned off me that way. I was breathing hard. My heart was racing. My little nipples were hard and erect. And I was wet.
I was reassured to see that he was noticeably aroused.
He has a deep pile carpet and he had all sorts of pillows scattered around and he used them to position me for his comfort.
He brought out a hand full of blue and orange ropes from behind the cushions of the sofa. He did not say anything and he made a point of leaving the ropes in plain sight as he poured me another glass of wine. My heart was pounding. I knew what the ropes were for. Maybe I had never done anything like that before, but I am not naive. He looked me in the eye and smiled.
He never asked if it was okay with me, and I put up no resistance as he tied me up. He took his time, whispering and kissing me as he pulled my arms behind my back. He knew what he was doing. He had tied up women in Bangkok and Rio the way he was tying me up. He brought my arms together a bit painfully, wrapping the rope around my arms just above my elbows, making my back arch, pushing my naked breasts out toward him. He stroked and caressed me tenderly before he tied separate ropes around my wrists. He was gentle, yet firm as he tied me tight. He was very methodical and precise about his knots and took a long time before he was satisfied with the way he had me tied up. He pushed me onto my stomach and tied my wrists to my ankles behind my back, making me feel definitely “hog-tied.” I had misgivings, but it was too late. I could not move! If I had made a mistake with this man, it was too late now. Whatever he wanted to do with me, he was going to do.
He moved around me, adjusting and tightening the ropes. I laid there on my stomach, my arms tied tightly together at the elbows, my knees bent with my ankles up behind my back tied tightly to my wrists. I felt like a turkey being prepared for the oven! He patted my butt soothingly and whispered that he found me definitely attractive this way. He told me he was going to introduce me to a new kind of passion. He was going to show me what I really wanted, what kind of woman I really was. He said he recognized it when he first saw me. He said he saw it in my eyes, the way I moved, the way I dressed. He told me I would experience more passion and excitement in the next few hours than most women know in a lifetime.
This man had taken such total control of me and something inside me made me comply. I was scared and excited. I was fighting a growing panic that made my heart beat so fast, yet at the same time, lying naked and bound on the floor made that warm glow down in my tummy, the beginning of an orgasm. My senses were electrified. No man had ever made me feel this way before. No man had ever treated me so. Somehow, it seemed right. I was still scared, though. I did not know what would happen next. I was trembling. He rolled me onto my back. He went over my naked body with those lucious big hands, kneading and massaging me, rubbing me with warm oils. He kissed and licked every inch of my body with his warm, soft tongue, making me shiver as his saliva dried on my naked flesh. He nibbled my earlobes, nuzzled my armpits, tickling me deliciously. He sucked my toes and licked the soles of my feet! He kissed me behind my knees, making me shudder with pleasure. It was such an incredible, soothing, sensual experience. Then he traced a feather across my body. He was so skilled, so sensual. It was an exquisitely sensual sensation. I wondered how many women he had tickled with that feather. This was foreplay in the extreme. No man had ever spent so much time with me. I was in heaven! I shuddered, shiver, trembled and moaned as only the feather moved ever so lightly over my skin. No man had ever been so attentive to me.
After the feather, his fingers moved soothingly over me. And into me.His finger touched my diaphragm inside me. He frowned and forced his fingers deeper into me, moving around inside me until he could pull my diaphragm out of me. That was actually exciting. I had absolutely no protection from his sperm. He did not care what I wanted. He said I have to give myself totally to him. He said I am not allowed to put any barriers between him and me.
I opened my eyes when I felt a sharp, metallic sensation, scraping very slowly across my skin. My eyes widened at the sight of a razor blade between his fingers. He was moving it very carefully along my skin. He had a very serious, intense expression on his face as he focused on the razor blade, moving it slowly along my arm, the inside of my wrist, over my breasts. I held my breath, afraid to protest. He did not seem to be planning to hurt me, but he was very intensely involved in the razor blade on my skin. The blade raised goosebumps on my flesh as it passed over me. He outlined my breasts, circled my nipples, then scrapped it down along my belly and further, circling my vagina and tracing the blue vein along the smooth skin of my inner thigh. That was my femur artery. I knew that if he just nicked that artery I could very well bleed to death right there on the carpet. If that was what he wanted.
I waited for this game to play itself out. I bit my lip. This was new territory for me. I thought I had experienced it all with men, but I had never been treated like this.
As the blade moved along my skin, I felt overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. It was almost a ritual. I liked his seriousness. He was totally focused on me, and the blade, like no man had ever focused on me before. I was confident this was a game, a test of my trust. Still, I did not want to be cut. I had no desire to be hurt. But I did want to impress him with my trust.
He brought the blade back to my throat. He held it there, pressing it against my skin. Harder. Harder. His eyes were serious. He remained quiet. I remained passive, breathless. I looked up at him. I felt the blade cut into my skin. The cut was stinging and burning. Warm blood flowed out of the little cut. His face closed down. He was licking my throat, kissing my cut. I felt his tongue, warm and rough, against my skin. I shivered. His mouth was closed over the wound and I felt the suction as he sucked on my blood. It was strangely erotic. Like a vampire feeding on his victim.
With my wrists tied behind my back I could do nothing. I watched him hold my left breast in one hand, and flick my sensitive little nipple with his fingers to make it stand up. He had a collection of objects — some I recognized and some I didn’t — scattered on the floor around me. He held a strange looking metal clip with sharp, mean looking teeth over my nipple. I braced myself and bit my lower lip, but I was not prepared for that sudden sharp pain when he let go of the clip and it bit into my nipple. It was an intensely sharp, burning pain that made me cry out and writhe in my ropes. He held a clamp over my other nipple and let it snap onto my nipple. I could not help but gasp and cry. He liked the sounds I made and the way I arched my back and wriggle against his ropes in the first moments as I adjusted to the pain.
He left the clamps on for five minutes or so and my nipples were burning and he gave the clamp a twist or tightened it down even more. He liked the way my lower lip trembled when I was really hurting. Then he waited another five minutes and tightened the clamp another twist or two. I could feel them throbbing then. After a while my nipples were not feeling any pain. I probably could have worn those clamps all day at that point, but there would have been nothing left of my nipples by then. When he did take the clamps off, the pain was horrendous. My little nipples were on fire! It was truly torture, and a sharp pain that I never really experienced before. When he finally removed those clamps my little nipples were just crushed, flattened and dented. He brushed my hair away from my face and kissed my nose. He called me a bitch. He was smiling sweetly when he said it. The word sent a chill through me. Then he told me I was a slut. No man had ever talked to me that way.
I was overwhelmed and confused. This man had me trembling with fear, tense with excitement, moaning with pleasure and gasping in pain as he played with me.
He put me back on my belly with my arms back and tied my wrists to my ankles. He praised my butt, patting it tenderly, then slapping it hard enough to make me cry out. He made love to me from behind. He liked that position, but the clamps came off when he pressed me into the floor. He was pretty heavy and there was no way I could keep my chest off the floor.
He put it in my cunt first and rammed into me with an incredible speed and rhythm. I liked that! He had me moaning and crying out. While he was fucking me this way, he started playing with my asshole. This really got me hot and I started wriggling my ass and thrusting my hips back at him. He took his cock out and put it to the entrance to my ass. He sort of hesitated.
He was very gentle at first, then he just started to pump harder and harder. He was really getting turned on! He was almost incoherent. I buried my face into a pillow as he rammed me viciously. The force of his thrusts were rattling the windows so hard it seemed the glass would break any second. I worried someone might hear the noise and investigate. It hurt so much it felt so good.
He came very quickly and his cock got soft and fell out of me. He laid next to me, stroking my long hair, rubbing my back, my butt with his big hands, kissing my neck, telling me how much he was enjoying himself. He rolled me over onto my side and kissed my tender nipples for about 10 minutes. Soon he was playing with my little clit. He moved his fingers very fast and light over my clit and vagina. Faster and faster. I started to pant and moan and he sped up those fingers. I came REAL HARD, gasping and crying, but he kept playing with me, so I had to beg him to stop, it was hurting me. He turned my back to him and immediately I felt him hardening and pressing against my ass again. I spread my legs as much as the ropes allowed and his hard cock slipped right into my asshole.
His fucking was slower and less frenzied this time. He drove his weight down into me. He ran his hands through my tangled hair, entwining my long hair around his hands. He pulled back on my hair, lifting my head back, making me cry out in pain. He rode me like I was a horse and my hair were reins as he humped into me harder and harder. He drove the breath out of me. I gritted my teeth, bit my lower lip. There was so little I could do. He was in such total control.
No man had ever made love to me like this. His free hand gripped my hanging left breast, squeezing and kneading. His fingers found my throbbing nipple and pinched it cruelly as he rode me rougher and rough. I cried out and he took his hand away from my breast and gripped my face, forcing his finger into my mouth. With my head held back by his grip on my hair, and him ramming into my rear, he finger fucked my mouth. He went on like that forever, occasionally taking his hand away from my face to squeeze my breasts or slap my butt hard as he rode me. It seemed like forever before I finally felt his cock tense up inside my ass. He froze over me. He stopped breathing for a moment, then his cock spasmed and his come oozed down my thigh.
I slept in his bed that night. Sometimes he held me. Mostly he slept with his back to me. He never untied me. During the night I felt the bed shake a little and I am sure he was masturbating. I laid there, falling asleep listening to him breathe, feeling his heart beat, feeling his warmth, inhaling his masculine primitive musky scent. His arousing manly aroma enveloped me. I woke up in the middle of the night. From the way he was breathing I could tell he was in a deep sleep. It took me awhile to realize the knot tying my wrists behind my back had loosened. My nipples throbbed with pain from what he had done. My shoulders ached from the way he had tied my arms. I quietly worked my wrists free, then freed my ankles without disturbing his sleep. I crept out of the room, found my clothes scattered carelessly around the living room. My bra and panties were singed and ruined. I left them lying on the floor. I dressed hurriedly and walked down the stairs. I could find only one shoe, so I walked on barefoot, carrying my shoe in my hand. On my way through the living room I noticed a hook in the ceiling, a whip on the coffee table and behind the sofa a video camera on a tripod pointing at the middle of the room where I had been tied up hours earlier.
I always wonder what would have happened if I had stayed.

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