His pants still bulged, and as I watched the door close I wondered if he was off to do the same thing I was about to. Just the thought sent a shiver through me. And now that he had the cuffs? I could always get a new pair, but this way I’d be telling him every time I intended to get off. That was so fucking embarrassing and hot at the same time.
Throwing off the sheet, I spread my legs wide and put my hands to work. Pinching my nipples while I rubbed my swollen clit, I imagined they were his fingers all over me. In my mind, he fucked me roughly, stabbing his thick cock into me. I came almost immediately, moaning as I arched my back clear off the bed.
It wasn’t until I collapsed, exhausted, that it occurred to me that he might have heard me. Or maybe he was busy taking care of his lump. Either way, I almost started all over. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I asked for the cuffs.
“Why do you do it?”
I thought he’d just lend me the cuffs. Instead, he insisted on locking me up himself, to make sure it was done safely. I couldn’t quite imagine how I would have done it unsafely, him closer to me, I wasn’t going to argue. He let me go first to get under the sheets,
Fold Up
<Trapped in Bed
he followed and cuffed my hands to the headboard with two satisfying clicks.
Why do I do it? It was a tough question to answer. Why did he want to know right now? “I dunno?” My pussy was already getting wet under the silk sheet and my nipples poked through, crinkled up into hard pebbles. There was no way he didn’t notice this time, and my breath came faster knowing that.
“I like feeling helpless, I guess? Maybe a little exposed?” I bit my lip. “It’s a space to fantasize in.” Ask me about what. I dare you. Had he asked, I might have spilled. What would he have done? Of course, he didn’t.
He looked good today, a white dress shirt tight across his muscled chest, a couple of buttons open to show a little skin. Suit pants, as if he had a meeting today with someone important. I‘ m pretty important. He could meet with me any time he wanted.
Dropping the keys into his pants pocket, he turned to leave. “Let me know if I can do anything to help. I’ll be back in an hour.”
Holy shit. Had that meant what I thought it did? It couldn’t, could it? He meant if I began to hurt or something, right? The rest of the hour was spent imagining all the ways Daddy could help me, making me desperate to get my hands free take care of business.
We continued this game for several weeks. To begin with, I only asked him every few days. By the last week, it was every single day, and it was only my embarrassment that kept me from asking multiple times in a day. I wanted him so badly, but I didn’t dare do anything until I was sure he felt the same way.
