Of Duct Tape and Step Stools

As I’ve mentioned many times, my husband Randy is one resourceful fellow. He proved my point again on Friday evening. We had set up a play date earlier in the week. By the time he arrived home, I was ready for whatever surprises he had to offer. Or so I thought.

When he walked in the door, I was busy answering comments on the blog. I arose to meet him with a kiss. He returned my overture with interest. His strong hands pulled me close as his tongue darted in my mouth. My mind instantly filled with a thousand wild thoughts of a raw sexual nature.

After several passionate moments, Randy pulled away slightly and cupped my chin with his palm. “I have some things to prepare.” He said, almost in a whisper. “You can keep working on your blog until I call for you.” With that, he disappeared.

Now my mind was truly racing. What would the game be this time? He hadn’t provided a single clue, but that didn’t stop me from ruminating. How many ways can one couple find to blend spankings and sex? I had to suspect that number would shortly be incremented.

About thirty minutes later, Randy called for me, just as he had promised. I walked into our bedroom to find an old metal step stool standing in the middle of the floor. He had dragged this functional antique up from the basement. I recalled that it had once belonged to his grandmother.

While I was examining the step stool, my lover was staring at me. “Why are you still wearing clothes?” he inquired. His tone was serious, but stopped short of demanding. I hadn’t any answer other than to undress. As I pulled my favorite red sweater over my head, it occurred to me that Randy wasn’t the only one capable of spicing up the evening. I tossed the garment clear across the bedroom and in the general vicinity of a hamper. All the while, my man watched intently. I shook my chest at him before unhooking my bra. Apparently fascinated, Randy sat on the bed. Looking right into his eyes, I slid each strap slowly down my arm as my body now danced and undulated as if in time to music only I could hear. I briefly spun my white bra over my head like a lariat before heaving it as well. Being lighter than the sweater, the bra made it only as far as the bed, but I didn’t let that deter my spanko salsa.

My jeans were next. I faced away from my lover and wiggled my bottom back and forth as I lowered the denim pants ever so gradually. When they reached the floor, I stepped out, spun around, and kicked them in the direction of the hamper. I glanced down to see a grin on my dear husband’s face. He was definitely enjoying my little show. I was now wearing only two socks and my pink high-cut briefs. I turned around again, bent forward, and began to rub my bottom seductively. I was no doubt earning the spanking that was surely forthcoming, but this was great fun. No words were exchanged. I placed my thumbs in the waistband of my panties. Rather than slide them off slowly as he probably expected, I rapidly slid them all the way down. When the underwear was off, I spread my legs wide and bent forward to touch the floor, thus providing him with a front row vantage of all my secrets.

Randy began to applaud. He was clearly delighted by my striptease. Finally, I had for once turned the tables, or so I thought.

“That was excellent, Bon! Now let’s see you bend over this stool.”

Nearly breathless and fresh out of better ideas, I did as he asked. I placed my belly on the cold vinyl that coated the top step. Once I was in position, Randy produced my leather cuffs and slipped them onto my two wrists and two ankles. Designed as they are for restraint, each cuff has a small ring to allow attachment of a cord. Randy, of course, had other ideas. He grabbed a roll of grey duct tape from the top of his dresser (now, is that the sign of a real man or what?). He proceeded to fasten each cuff to a leg of the step stool by winding the tape around both cuff and leg. This had to have been the hard way, but it was effective enough. I was bound in place, fully exposed, and unable to move.

I mentally prepared myself for my spanking. It would hurt without a doubt, but it would be wonderful at the same time. At least I hoped it would. I was completely unready for the next sensation. Rather than a hot smack, I felt a cold finger, coated with lubricant, probing my rear orifice. In and out, around and around, he spread the viscous goo. Next, my Prince Charming began to insert a rubber plug. Slowly at first, he pushed, twisted, and pumped until it was in place. I can’t say it was particularly comfortable, but I sufficiently aroused by now to care only slightly.

As I was settling in with the idea of my most private place being thoroughly violated, the spanking began. Randy used a short leather strap to warm up my cheeks. It left a burning sensation with every stroke. When he decided I had enough of that, he switched to a wooden hairbrush. When vigorously applied to flesh of my posterior, it burned too, but in a deeper, more intense, longer lasting fashion. At one point, I recall Randy holding the brush in one hand and the end of the butt plug in the other. The sensations associated with being spanked and penetrated at the same time were so overwhelming that he had to steady the step stool to prevent it from tipping over from my rocking gyrations.

After many hard swats, my man finally decided I had been adequately spanked. He dropped the brush and walked around in front of me. He knelt down and gently kissed me. When he stood again, he lowered his pants and pulled out his weapon. “Open up,” he directed. I leaned my head back to accept his gift. I kissed, licked, and sucked his rod, but bound as I was, I could not grasp it. Eventually, he figured out that he was going to have to either release my arms or hold it himself. He chose the former. He cut the duct tape with knife large enough to make me fear for the integrity of my cuffs, if not my own skin. Once I had my hands back, I was able to execute a blow job that was obviously up to his standards of satisfaction. He finished in my mouth, which doesn’t happen very often.

Speaking of finishing, he decided it was time for my payoff. He stepped behind me and cut my legs free. There’s something strangely satisfying about being liberated using a huge knife. It came none too soon. My position over the step stool was rather uncomfortable. If we do this again, I will insist upon a pillow. My bottom was still positively hot to the touch. From it, Randy retrieved the plug. It too had served its purpose, but now provided more stimulation than I required. My lover helped me to the bed where he had my lie on my back.

At this point, I was nearly exhausted, yet still not sated. Fortunately, Randy had precisely the remedy for this condition. He inserted a buzzing sex toy into my hungry vagina. This was a very welcome entry. Next, he applied his skilled tongue, lips, and teeth to my swelling love nub. He has the most amazing lap and flick technique. In what seemed like less than a minute, I was literally bouncing on the bed in orgasmic ecstasy. My lover held me tightly as I found at last my joyful release. It was wonderful.

Later, in bed, we shared our usual post-mortem. He was blown away by my stripper routine. I had put on a show for him before, but it had been years. Randy was surprised to learn that it was completely spontaneous. He suggested that next time I should give him a lap dance. I replied that I already do every time he puts me OTK. Perhaps that’s not what he meant.

I thought the step stool was a clever idea, though not very comfortable for me. As spankings went, this was a particularly effective one. Randy explained it was because of the combination of position and implements. All I knew was that the glow I was feeling was likely to stick around for quite a while. He really liked the blow job, once I could use my hands. I didn’t expect him to cum in mouth because it happens relatively rarely. Not that I mind…

Finally, there is the matter of the duct tape. I doubt that adhesive will ever entirely come off of my cuffs. They’re still functional, but they look quite messy. Oh well. That and a very sore bottom seem like a small price to pay for a Friday evening of exciting sex and adventure.

Keywords: spanking, hairbrush spanking, bondage, spanking stories