I stood at the door, my hand still on the doorknob as if my brain hadn’t quite decided that my body was staying, and watched as one by one Prince shut off all the lights in the house and locked the doors. In my head my rational self was screaming hysterically at my common sense self:
What in God’s sweet name do you think you are doing out in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, in a strange man’s house, asking him to tie you up and fuck you?! But just south of my brain my heart and pussy were purring loudly like a cat who just glimpsed her master reaching for the can opener.
I followed him through a sheer paisley curtain into the bedroom where a single candle was burning. In the flicker between shadow and light I could see a double futon raised a few inches above the floor, a jumble of billowy pillows and a down comforter. The linen was simple, white, cotton except for two large pillows that were a deep majestic purple of a velvety material. His closet was an open dowel to the side of the bed where work clothes lined the wall, save for a section of clothes secreted away behind a long swatch of material in the far corner. There was a low table next to the bed with a bag of pretzels, some WalLube and a bottle of peppermint foot lotion.
The smoking votive rested on a small, black, anonymous looking footlocker sitting at the foot of the bed. Displayed neatly on top of the trunk were two white straps. I could make out that one was a cloth belt about two inches wide like the ones we used in yoga class. The other a length of thin rope similar to the kind you get for $2.99 at the hardware store for hanging laundry. I recalled that Prince was a construction worker and the thought of him using these utilitarian objects in the day as he sweated away in the sun made me dizzy with giddiness.
I’d never had premeditated sex before. In the past it had always been a matter of a casual touch leading to a kiss leading to a fuck. This was something different. It felt somewhat like a business deal. Illicit and with unspoken rules, reminding me of the times as a youth I had purchased drugs from relative strangers. This had that same thrilling sense of anticipation and unease.
I sat myself on the edge of the bed and looked up as Prince peeled off his flannel shirt and stepped out of his paint spattered pants. I was so surprised by the realization that he didn’t wear any underwear that for a split second my brain failed to appreciate his magnificent hard on. His cock was incredibly long and smooth and had a graceful arch that sent shivers down the spine.
Following his lead I yanked my dress up over my head and leaned down to pull off my tights. I immediately felt exposed and self conscious in my bra and panties, teetering awkwardly on the edge of this man’s bed, not knowing the protocol for being tied up and fucked by a stranger. Rather ungracefully I slipped out of my underwear and reached up to take his hand. As I did so Prince gripped my forearm and, pulling me to my feet, said firmly
Stand Up!
I did so without a moment's hesitation.
He took my shoulders and I imagined he would pull me closer for a kiss. Instead he turned me away from him and faced me toward the bed. He brought my arms to my sides and pinned them there briefly, enough for me to know they were to remain there until instructed otherwise. Then he reached around me from behind. The thin hairs on his forearms grazed my nipples and his cock pressed into the small of my back as he repeatedly wrapped the laundry cord around my breasts and upper arms. I could feel my pulse strain against the cord with each beat of my heart.
Next he squatted beside me on the floor and wrapped the belt around my thighs, cinching it up just below my crotch. He used my body to stable himself as his stood and then placed his hands on my shoulders. With a strong foreward and downward pressure he effortlessly made me crumble to my knees onto mattress. One light push and I was lying on my back.
And oh God help me what happened next still makes my breath catch. He knelt down at my feet, grasped his large hands around my ankles and swiftly yanked my entire body toward him in one move as if I were a rag doll. Right there the deal was done and I was his to do with entirely as he pleased.
He tested the looseness/tightness of his knots and asked how I was doing.
Fine, thank you is perhaps what I mumbled in reply. Truthfully I don’t rightly recall much of what I said or did that night once the feeling of giving over all control engulfed me. He reached around me and took a condom off the bed stand. He rolled it onto his cock and then lowered himself, very slowly, onto me, slipping gradually in between my thighs which were, of course, cinched tightly together. As he began to work his hips up and down his cock ran against the length of my clit and worked the juices from my cunt into a lather. I was moaning and cooing, as my forearms flapped about and tried to grip his hips as best they could in their compromised position.
The next thing I knew he had slipped a hand between our bodies and suddenly my thighs were no longer bound together. I wrapped them around him as he rammed his cock deep inside my cunt with one strong thrust. He was so big and hard it was if I had been impaled and I let out a startled cry of pain. Immediately he pulled back till his head was just inside my lips. His eyes quickly filled with concern and he said
I’m so sorry in a very gentle and sorrowful tone. I thrashed my head from side to side – worse than the pain of his deep thrust was the feeling of him leaving me – and I gasped over and over
No. No. No. It’s ok. It’s o.k.! I frantically made “come here” gestures with my hands by flapping my fingers against the inside of my palms.
Gently he reentered me and began fucking me strong and steady. After a few thrusts I easily opened up to take the whole of him. I could feel his balls slapping against me and his cock was so incredibly hard it felt like solid bone inside me. He slowly started slapping the outside of my thighs with his open palms - first the left and then the right - in a sort of syncopated rhythm. It was less like a smack and more like a drum beat, as though my thighs were djembe skins and he was playing talking drums on my body. With each stroke he would make a low guttural sound that came from somewhere deep within him and left me feeling confused and bewildered. But his eyes were locked on mine and anchored me to him. I was not afraid.
As he came closer to cumming he laid his long body down on top of mine and laced his huge arms around my head. He burried his face into my neck and began to weep into my ear; tears were flowing and he was crying out
Oh God, Oh my God! Yes! His body convulsed against mine and his grip tightened, then loosened ever so slightly, and then he went slack. You might think the full weight of his body pressing me into the hard futon would feel suffocating, but it didn’t. To the contrary. I felt like a child being pressed to her mother’s breast; helpless, comforted and safe. Cared for.
After a few minutes he silently rolled off of me. With one hand he untied the knots that still pinned my arms to my sides. He fell back onto the bed, lanky limbs splayed about, and I inched over to his body until my head was resting on his sinewy arm and my face pressed to his chest. He immediately fell into a deep, sound sleep. I lay there quietly and listened to his labored breathing and felt his body twitch beneath me. After an hour or so I got up and silently dressed myself, pulled the comforter over his naked body, and blew out the candle that had burned down almost to the wick. Then I went out to my car and drove home with all the windows down and the warm summer air blowing on my skin.
