Cupids Binding

I yawned and stretched under the covers, working feverishly to ignore the bright sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. My husband, Ryan, was always the early riser and had already vacated the bed.

I used to wake up before dawn, throw on exercise clothes, and spend a precious hour honing my body to what I believed was perfection. That habit died years ago, victim to the stress of my professional life and the realization that Ryan and I would never have a family of our own. I loved my husband, but his infertility robbed me of the chance to bear children–that depressed the hell out of me, but I worked hard to hide it. Probably not the best idea.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee tickled my nose and enticed me to cease my sad ruminations. Ryan and I had started talking about other family options, namely adoption. We’d discussed artificial insemination, but that choice left a sour taste in my mouth. I wanted to carry Ryan’s child, not the product of someone else’s ejaculate.

After another body-rattling yawn, I lumbered to the bathroom and brushed away all hints of morning breath from my mouth before tugging on my casual weekend garb. No bra, one of Ryan’s cast-off tee shirts, and a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants that had seen better days. My attire was far from sexy, but it was damned comfortable.

I padded downstairs, shuffling towards the kitchen and its promise of coffee. As a moderately successful writer, I enjoyed the luxury of working from home and thus avoided the hectic chaos of the corporate world. Slow-moving was the norm for me, but my Ryan never complained. He worked from home when he could, though all too often my husband left my side as he traveled, attending to affairs related his security business.

The kitchen table, already laden with food, bore a lead crystal vase brimming with tidy, white flowers.

I smiled.

“Gardenias,” I said.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” countered my husband as he closed the distance between us. “And to I have a surprise planned for you, my love.”

I laughed and let him pull me into a heated kiss. The child situation bothered me, but I loved Ryan more than life itself. He’d pulled me, kicking and screaming, from the pit of depression and remained a solid rock in my life, no matter how hard I’d tried to push him away. I owed the man my life, though he would never dream of collecting that debt.

“You don’t have to go to any trouble,” I offered, a little breathless after our embrace. “You’ve been working your ass off the last month. I’m fine with a little relaxation this weekend.”

I’d planned a special Valentine’s dinner. Beef Wellington with a homemade Hollandaise sauce accompanied by bacon wrapped asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes. My husband’s favorite meal.

Ryan chuckled and gave me another kiss.

“Well, I’m excited about this special dinner you have planned tonight,” he said as he turned back to the stove. “But I still have a surprise of my own.”

“Really?” I reached around him and stole a piece of crispy bacon from the sheet pan resting on the kitchen counter.

He grunted in acknowledgment, though his attention remained focused on the skillet before him. I slid around him, heading for the coffee bar and the promise of that delicious, hot elixir. Ryan had remodeled the kitchen as a birthday present for me, finishing the task in one weekend while I was away at a writer’s convention. The coffee bar had been an extra reward for himself, one that I also greatly appreciated.

Ryan nodded towards the kitchen island, clearly indicating his intention to serve me breakfast. Fair enough, I had serious plans for serving him a dinner he’d never forget.

I slid onto a barstool and waited patiently, admiring my husband as he served up an omelet. We grinned at one another while he plated his own food and finally joined me, sitting closer than usual.

The suspense was killing me.

My husband smirked as I told him so.

“Fine,” he finally said with an exaggerated sigh. “You really want to know what the surprise is?”

I playfully smacked his arm.

“Baby, I’ve cleared the entire week. I’m all yours till next Monday,” Ryan informed me with a devious grin. “If you’re interested, that is.”

“No business trips? No middle of the night emergency phone calls?”

“Nothing, precious,” he confirmed.

I squealed and threw my arms around my husband, my enthusiasm endangering both breakfast foods and coffee cups. A full week with Ryan. No interruptions! We hadn’t enjoyed such a luxury since our wedding.

Our hugging morphed into something else, growing with intensity until we finally moved into the living room and onto the couch. We groped and kissed and fucked like teenagers, until the passion of the moment was satisfied, and we returned to our cold breakfast, grinning like fools.

“An entire week,” I murmured as I snuggled against Ryan’s body. He’d insisted on cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast, then we’d snuggled up in front of the big flat screen to watch digital recordings of our favorite cooking shows.

We were both naked, nestled together under a thick blanket.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he admitted finally. We were both a little breathless after another round of passion. “I thought you might want something nice. A necklace. Something.”

I arched an eyebrow at my husband.

“A necklace doesn’t keep my warm at night, handsome,” I finally said. “A week together with no obligations is the best gift I could ever ask for.”

Ryan laughed, an unfamiliar glint in his blue eyes.

###

Around mid-afternoon, I chased Ryan out of the house, sending him towards the garage that housed his newly renovated man-cave–his birthday present from me–so I could prepare his special meal.

We’d had a rough spell a few months ago. Well, more exactly, I’d gone through a serious depressed episode. I became sullen and paranoid, staying in bed for days and convincing myself that my husband had to be cheating on me. Ryan put up with my erratic behavior for a few weeks before forcing me to visit my therapist.

Guilt and shame ate away at me when I finally shook off the suffocating weight of my damaged mental health. I twisted that angst into something creative, typing a full-length book in a little over a week. My efforts shocked my agent, who’d gone out on a limb to push the work through to a big-name publisher. I’d received a sizable advance, which had paid for a remodel of the garage–Ryan had wanted a man cave for years. I stole a drawing he’d kept hanging on the wall and gave it to the contractor, one who’d done a great deal of work for my husband in the past. I knew nothing about construction and couldn’t tell if the workers did a good job, but Ryan had been ecstatic about the result.

The beef Wellington was resting and didn’t look half bad. While the dish didn’t challenge the professional images on the recipe website I’d referred to, the main course at least looked appealing on our dinner table. I slid the side dishes in the oven to finish and fairly ran upstairs to get ready for dinner.

After a quick shower, I sprayed a hint of vanilla and brown sugar body spray across my body before pulling a simple black dress over my head. I wore no undergarments, just so I could feel a little naughty. My breasts were still firm enough not to sag without support. I refrained from adorning myself with jewelry in the hopes that I’d finally be brave enough to tell Ryan about the kind of sex I really wanted–the dress I was willing to sacrifice, my jewelry had all come from my husband and every piece meant something to me.

My dark, twisted fantasies had inspired my creative works. Works helped me carve out a reputation in the erotic fiction community. Ryan knew I wrote novels, but I shied away from telling him the pen name I used when writing my fantasy sex tales.

Tonight. Maybe tonight I would share my work with him. An intimate dinner on the most romantic holiday of the year should loosen my tongue. And hopefully his.

Once I was prepared, I messaged Ryan on his cell phone. He stalked through the back door only moments later, wearing a pair of black slacks and a silver button-down shirt, open at the throat and sleeves rolled up on his forearms. He resisted my attempts to rut with him, insisting that he was starving.

Starving. Right. I was starving as well, but my needs didn’t include fancy food.

We ate. We flirted over dancing candle flames and too many glasses of wine. Gradually, Ryan’s teasing became more physical and he pulled me away from the table.

“My turn,” he said as he blew out the candles on the dinner table. “Come with me love.”

I followed him into the cold night, drunk enough that the freezing stones of the walkway didn’t hurt my bare feet. A moment after we stepped into the darkness, we reached the door of the garage. Ryan pulled me inside, kissing me harshly on the lips.

I gasped and stepped back, stunned by his unusual aggression. He grinned and pulled me closer, nuzzling the side of my neck.

“You trust me?”

A laugh escaped my lips, quickly turning into a moan as Ryan gently bit my neck.

“Yes,” I eventually managed.

Ryan slipped behind me, covering my eyes with a silky blindfold. Wordless, my husband led me through the unfamiliar room. He carefully guided me, steering my body with gentle pressure on my shoulders until we stopped. Ryan’s hands slid along my body, slowly pulling my dress over my head.

“Beautiful,” he whispered in my ear. I felt the warmth of his body as he pressed against my back. “My lovely Samantha.” He guided my body until I felt pressure at the backs of my knees. “Sit my love, I won’t let you fall.”

I did as he commanded, letting my alcohol-relaxed limbs hang loosely as Ryan manipulated them. Before I understood what was happening, he’d locked my body into a rigid device.

“Ryan? What . . . what the hell are you doing?”

He chuckled and slid my confined legs apart. Next, he moved my bound arms until they were over my head. The entire device rotated backwards, leaving me in a nearly supine position with my legs wide apart.

I shivered, though not from cold. The room was comfortably warm. No, my body liked confinement.

“Did you really think I wasn’t curious about your writing, Samantha? Or should I say Sammi Waters?”

Oh my God! A fiery wave of embarrassment tore through my body as my brain processed what Ryan had just told me.

“I . . . I . . . I didn’t know how to tell you,” I stammered.

I yelped as Ryan’s hot mouth found my left nipple and bit down. Hard. His fingers pinched the right nipple until I started bucking my hips.

“You should have told me you like it rough, baby,” he said once he released my left nipple. “I’ve been planning this for so long. Waiting until you worked up the courage to tell me that you want to be bound and controlled.” Ryan bit my nipple again. “I’ve never played like this, but your books were so descriptive. I have so many ideas.”

I gasped as his fingers trailed down my body, flicking over the wet heat between my legs.

I heard movement somewhere off to the right, near my head. The sounds of a drawer opening. Rummaging. A masculine chuckle, so low and hot it nearly drove me mad. Soft footsteps approached.

After long, torturous minutes, I felt something hard pressed against my mouth.

“Open up, love.”

I complied and immediately felt a solid, round object slide between my teeth. A strap pressed behind my head, tightening until it fit snuggly. A gag. Dear God, he gagged me! My hips started working back and forth against the soft cushions supporting them.

“You want a master, don’t you, Samantha?”

I lay motionless for a few seconds, considering what Ryan was asking. Then, slowly, I nodded my head. I was naked, bound, and gagged. The boundaries of shyness had been torn away the moment my husband slid the blindfold over my eyes. My body reacted strongly and in the space of a single heartbeat, I was soaking wet.

Cold metal pressed against my right nipple, gradually squeezing until I cried out against the gag. More cold metal and pressure, against the left nipple this time. Footsteps moved away from me. More rummaging.

Something clicked then an insistent purring sound filled the room. Before I could draw in a breath, something hot and vibrating pressed against my clit. I screamed against the gag, wholly unprepared for the sudden intrusion. Fighting the restraints, I bucked my hips trying to escape the powerful stimulation.

The vibrations abruptly stopped. As I worked to control my breathing, a sharp slap of pain exploded across my clit. The sound of leather slapping against flesh filled the room. Another slap. More pain.

My orgasm surprised me. Pain exploded into overwhelming pleasure as I screamed against the gag in my mouth.

The vibrator suddenly pressed back against my clit, forcing a second painful orgasm from my trembling body.

Warm fingers stroked my body, ran along my shaking limbs. I groaned as Ryan’s hands worked along the sides of my breasts. He pulled the clip from my right nipple. Then the left. I grunted with each quick burst of discomfort.

“You like that, precious?”

I groaned, barely able to nod my head.

“This week will be amazing,” Ryan said softly as he removed my blindfold. “I think I’ll like this domination thing, Samantha. But this wasn’t initially what I’d planned for your Valentine’s Day gift.”

He moved to my side, fingers trailing along my torso as he teased my body. He reached my soaking pussy and let his digits tickle the sensitive flesh of my outer lips. Gradually, Ryan worked his fingers along my wet sex until he found that bundle of nerves. I jerked and grunted as his fingers traced erratic patterns around my clit. In moments, I was gasping and bucking my hips as another climax built in my core.

“Baby, I’ve been planning this for so long,” he repeated. “When you had this room remodeled, I knew I needed to make it into something special. Then, I stumbled onto your books.” The leather cracked against my clit again, forcing a scream against the gag. “I knew my Valentine’s gift had to be perfect, my love.”

I squealed and screamed as another orgasm tore through me.

Ryan chuckled. “See, you aren’t the only one who had fantasies, baby.” His fingers left my wet sex. “I knew a box of chocolate or a necklace wasn’t the right thing. Not for you, my love.” His lips pressed against my ear. “Baby, I have my freaky kinks as well. The bondage and rough sex, I think I’m going to love it. But I have my own fantasy with you. Any idea what gets me hot and hard baby?”

I shook my head.

“I’d give just about anything to watch you get plowed by some hot young cock,” Ryan admitted. “Never knew how to tell you that. So, I’d jerk off while I was on business trips, fantasizing about watching you getting fucked by a couple of hot young guys.”

I groaned.

“Yeah, just like your books,” Ryan said. “I want a young man to get you pregnant, so I can fuck your beautiful, baby-filled body. I came up with a plan, Samantha. I’m going make sure you get pregnant in this amazing room.”

I jerked in the restraints as I heard the door open.

Ryan’s lips teased my ear. “Be a good girl and I’ll take the blindfold off, let you see who I’ve picked for you.”

Fear pushed into my body and I started struggling against the bindings holding me in place. My efforts were fruitless, leaving me tired and sore.

“Easy, love. He is disease free,” Ryan informed me. “Brian has features like mine, so the baby will look like us. And he loves to breed older women.”

A hot tongue slid against my soaking lips and I growled, hips bucking at the pleasant stimulation.

“You want to see him, baby?”

I nodded my head and the blindfold disappeared. Blinking against the overhead lights, I worked to focus on the young man who was skillfully lapping at my pussy. His eyes locked on mine as he sucked my clit into his mouth. My back arched upwards as electricity shot through my body.

Ryan kissed my neck, slowly dragging his lips upwards until they rested against my ear.

“Brian also likes rough, nasty sex, baby,” my husband whispered as I thrashed and groaned. “In fact, he helped me install these wonderful toys while you were away at your writer’s conference. Currently, you’re on Lucifer’s bondage chair. We’ll work our way through everything in my new dungeon.”

A scream escaped my throat as Brian slipped a thick finger into my anus.

“Now, our new friend won’t fuck your ass,” Ryan said as he rifled through a nearby drawer. “At least not right now. His job is to get you knocked up.”

I groaned as Brian slipped another finger past my tight sphincter.

Breath warmed my left ear as Ryan returned to my side. “I get to fuck you any way I want, Samantha. No safe word, just like in your books.”

I shuddered as my husband reached over my body, handing something to the young man between my legs. A moment later, I felt increasing pressure against my anus. Anal was something I fantasized about–those illicit thoughts made for some exciting scenes in my books–but I’d always been too nervous to ask Ryan to fuck me like that. It seemed so. . . dirty.

Pressure gave way to pain as Brian steadily pushed the rounded toy further past my sphincter. I grunted, clenching my teeth so my cries wouldn’t escape. Suddenly, I felt insolent. I wanted to disobey my master.

I wanted to endure my husband’s–no, my master’s–punishment. Hell, maybe I needed it.

Ryan grinned at me, obviously enjoying my struggle as my forced lover continued to violate my ass. My resolve held even as the widest part of the toy stretched my ass painfully.

It held, that is, until Brian turned the vibrator on. Sensations exploded inside me, leaving me to buck and fight against my restraints. Brian attacked my clit viciously, biting and sucking until I could barely draw in a breath.

“Don’t cum, Samantha,” ordered Ryan.

“Ugh! Fuck!” I yelled. “Fuck you!”

Brian sucked my clit even harder.

“Beg your master for permission to cum,” Ryan whispered in my ear.

I ground my teeth together and squeezed my eyes shut, focusing everything I had on controlling my spasming body. It was futile, I knew it. But I wanted that punishment.

Pleasure, so intense it bordered on delicious agony, exploded through my overwhelmed body. I lost touch with everything around me, unable to see or hear anything over the rush of blood coursing through my body. Gradually, I regained my senses enough to notice the butt plug was still vibrating deep inside my ass, its robust gyrations pushing me over the edge yet again.

I panted, struggling to draw enough air into my lungs.

“H. . . holy hell,” I gasped.

“. . . think she’d enjoy that,” Brian was saying.

“Oh yes,” answered Ryan in a husky voice.

I blinked and tried to focus on the conversation between the men controlling me. Obviously, I’d missed something important. I might not have cared, except for the fact that I could feel them undoing the restraints that’d done a fantastic job of holding me in place on Lucifer’s chair. I made a mental note to write that wonderful device into my next book.

Ryan bite my neck, snapping my back into reality.

“Fight,” he whispered in my ear.

Confused, I merely blinked at him.

With a vicious, animalistic snarl, my husband grabbed my arms and pinned them down to the back of the chair. Strong hands wrapped around my ankles.

Suddenly, I understood what I’d missed.

I kicked my legs hard, struggling to free myself from my captors. Swearing and sputtering, I jerked my body back and forth, fighting to escape. All the while, I felt myself becoming even wetter. My clit throbbed painfully as I listened to Ryan’s rough breath as he panted in my ear.

“Oh my God,” moaned Brian as he positioned himself between my shaking thighs.

He drove himself inside me with one quick, deep thrust. The penetration was vicious, driving every bit of air from my lungs even as the walls of my vagina clenched around his sizable manhood.