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When you come home, you discover a full Italian dinner laid out for you – spaghetti in tomato sauce, salad, breadsticks, soft Venetian gondolier music, lit candles, and a salad. It’s just what you need – an opportunity to put the day behind you. You notice that, in typcal man-fashion, I have made more spaghetti than we could eat in a week. As we eat and talk, you giggle as you recall the days when you were a young girl and thought the Italian-restaurant scenes in “Lady and the Tramp” were the most romantic movie scenes ever.
After the meal, you ask if there’s any dessert. “Just what we make between us,” I answer, and you realize that the night’s only going to get better. I rise from the table, come over to you, take your hand in mine, and ask you for a dance. You smile, get up, and curtsy to me and say you’d be charmed.
In no hurry, I unbutton just the top button of your blouse after the first dance. I kiss you gently, and you note that this kiss contains none of the insistence that you know will be present later in the night. Another dance, another button undone, another gentle kiss. After the third dance, I pick up one of the flickering candles and bring it near to you. I flick it gently over your partly-exposed cleavage, and a small droplet of wax zings onto your right breast. A second time, and there’s another small droplet on your left breast. I then replace the candle and we dance on until your blouse is totally unbuttoned. I tell you to take off your blouse and bra and you do. I take off my shirt as well and we dance topless, van escort your breasts doing their own dance as we move about the floor.
We then adjourn to the bedroom, and you notice me bringing the big pot of pasta and wonder why. Once we enter the bedroom and remove our clothes, I order you to lie on the bed face up. You do, and I secure straps to the bed and you expect them to be tied to your wrists. But instead, I take several strands of spaghetti from the pot and twist them into pasta cords. I tie these cords to your wrists and to the straps. You are bound to the bed only by slender strands of spaghetti. I then make another pasta cord and hold it in my hand like a whip. I bring it down on your breast and it seems to you like the oddest thing that instead of the whip-bite you expected to feel, the pasta whip feels just like a wet, whisper-soft lick. Again I raise the cord and bring it down on your other breast and again you feel the oddness of the upraised whip hand followed by a gentle wet touch. No crack of the whip, no swishing sound of the whip as it hisses through the air, no sound at all. Each time I whip the pasta down on you, you feel the flinch reflex but suppress it, knowing that if you squirm too much, you will break the pasta binding you and the mood. And you do not want to break the mood.
I stop after another four strokes of the cord and bend your legs over, and then secure your ankles to the same bedposts as your wrists using spaghetti. You are now entirely bound but only mentally – if yalova escort you were to squirm, you would be instantly free. For this scene, the discipline to remain bound is entirely within you, not in the binding cords. I leave you for a couple of minutes and return with the tube of K-Y and a still-lit candle. I lubricate the base of the candle and place it on your rosebud, which in your bound and upturned position is almost your highest point. I gently twist the candle until the last two inches is buried within your anus. I tap it, and drops fly off onto your exposed ass and pussy. When they touch you, you know that you cannot afford the luxury of squirming, and take the hissing pricks of hot pain quietly. I leave the candle there, and return to flogging you with the spaghetti.
Each time you see the raised pasta whip, you steel yourself to not flinch. The “blows” rain down on your breasts, your pussy, your ass, and your belly, and the visual sensation of being thoroughly whipped combines with the physical sensation of being gently licked all over, and with almost a total absence of sound. At the same time, hot wax slowly flows down onto your ass and requires more discipline to not flinch. The visual and physical sensations excite you almost – but not quite – to the point of squirming, but you miss the sound. You had never realized before how sound was an essential ingredient in lovemaking. Also, the effort of holding yourself still is exhausting you, and you notice that you are drenched with sweat from the çorlu escort difficulty. The tension of holding yourself back is building, and it is expressed in your body as a palpable sexual tension.
I turn to the soles of your feet. I whip them a half dozen times, and the soles feel a surprising amount of sensation. it is the most incredible thing for you to fully experience a scene without the haze of pain.
At this point, the candle in your ass has burned itself out, and you almost relax, realizing that the hot wax sensation will be removed. By now you are completely drenched with sweat and feel as tense as a board with the effort of holding yourself still. You see me with a vibrator and realize that you will have to remain still with it inside you! I lubricate the vibrator and gently insert it in your pussy, which is now well lubricated on its own. I turn it on and continue to whip you, and it is agony for you to hold yourself steady with the vibrator – you feel like you are close to bursting with an orgasm, and hold yourself back with all your might. Your muscles are knotted across your entire body.
I tickle your armpits, and you have to clamp down on yourself even more. The tickling moves to your feet and your neck. Each time you hold yourself in check, and you’re almost crying with the effort.
Without warning, my hand cracks down on your right ass cheek. In surprise, you scream and twist and break free. With the scream, your entire body erupts in one huge, writhing, yelling orgasm, as all the pent-up tension is released at once. Hard spanks continue to rain down on your ass as you exult in the incredible release. You rock the bed, almost bouncing off it, as the waves of orgasm smash across your being. I try to continue spanking you but it’s like trying to spank a bucking bronco.
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