The Butterfly Chains Act III

(To read The Butterfly Chains Act I or Act II)

The erotic irony…

Leigh was the one whose nude, chain bound, spread eagle form was helplessly pinned to the bed, whereas I was the clothed one hovering defiantly over her and that completely vulnerable, wide open cunt. Guess who was the real prisoner?

Guilty as charged.

I was completely prepared for what I had planned for the evening. The same cannot be said for how the sight of her bound, candlelit body cast a spell over my intentions.

I had to have her. And now.

My flesh was awash in the light of her radiant submission, with certain parts of it more aglow than others. She was oozing appeal more than other more obvious fluids, the aroma making her all the more intoxicating with each drip from not just her cunt but also the candles on either side of the bed. Time ceased to have much meaning.

I lowered my face to hers, our noses touching playfully in a vain attempt to lighten the mood. She smiled at the gesture, but the fire burning in her eyes shamed the same candles that made them so beautiful to drown in. She wanted it as bad as I did.

Keeping my face mere inches from hers, I braced my planked position atop her enough to allow my left hand to gently traverse the length of her side on its way to the gold buckle of the black leather belt I had on. A few motions and the belt was no longer a concern. My eyes never left hers as the sound of a very distressed zipper being opened permeated the night, the rush of cool air a welcome reprieve to the humidity contained within.

Exhaling slowly and shifting my body weight just as fast allowed for the opportunity to snake my thumb inside the open waist band of the faded denims I wore. I smiled as the irony of my own fingers teasing the sensitive flesh of my lower abdomen in my subtle attempts to shift the jeans over my hips one-handed.

Perhaps someday I’ll be a smooth enough operator to be able to do that one-handed while her lips remain within kissing distance of my own. But not yet. With a huge smile I leaned back onto my knees and, now that both hands were free, slid my faded jeans and black boxer briefs down to my thighs.

My cock literally lept out of its denim prison. Thick, hot, with traces of pre-semeinal fluid already anointing its head. It pulsed with fervor to get inside Leigh’s velvet folds. I took a few seconds to slowly stroke its length with my right hand while doing the same to Leigh’s labia with my left. She purred and moaned in appreciation, her slickness coating my fingers with their own version of Magic Oil™.

The night air was as thick as my erection. Between the humidity, candles, body radiance and the heat of the moment the bedroom was almost liquid with intensity and emotion. Leaning forward I placed my arms astride her torso, bringing the head of my cock directly in line with her open cunt.

It was a perfect first stroke. Perfect. The pillows beneath her hips, aside from keeping her back free from the chain connecting her wrists, also raised her hips to the same height as mine. There would be no need to work the length of her, as fun as that sounded and may have been. With the most subtle motion forward I felt her labia open and accept their fate willingly, inch by inch.

It was if a hot, hungry mouth was there instead of her cunt. Every vein, each ridge, the splay of my cock’s head, the sensitive frenum, inch by fucking inch her cunt absorbed me, engulfing my erection in wet heat and silken friction so beautiful it made my eyes ache.

For you ladies you know the sensation of having yourself spread extremely wide, how the pressure on the sides feels different, how what usually rubs just enters. The way your cervix is brought into proximity with a lover’s cockhead. How effortlessly it slides in and out due to the stream of fluid seeping out of you. All of this producing the most delicate sensations to, on and around the most sensitive aspects of your sexual anatomy. Not to mention the mental masturbation of being so widely splayed for fucking.

Now add in the fact you are helplessly bound wide enough to embarrass a gynecologist. The leather of the bondage cuffs on each ankle gently digging a furrow into the tender flesh of your ankle and lower leg. You try to move your legs, but to no avail. Your arms are pinned beneath you, the only recourse you have being the ability to open your hands and move your fingers.

A man feels the same things you do but in reverse. The identical sensations to yours are his but opposite. It’s just as insane to us to fill as it must be to be filled.

My eyes never broke her gaze the whole time I entered her. The way her pupils dilated wider and wider as she was stretched the same was incredible. How her nostrils flared, hungry for air to accommodate her rapidly increasing pulse. And her mouth? Fuck! A silent scream was never as ear shatteringly absent of noise as the way Leigh’s mouth pursed open wide in pornographic astonishment as she was filled completely while completely open.

By the time our hips met I swear I had grown longer and thicker in the thirty or so seconds that first stroke took. And there is no sensation to rival the way a woman’s taut ass cheeks kiss your hip bones when you are completely inside her.

I lay atop her, my arms like steel girders aside her arched torso supporting the whole of my being, aside from one rock hard aspect of it. The only things touching Leigh were the tensed muscles of my inner forearms, the entirety of my painful erection and my hips. Holding that position I just pulsed my cock in her depths, much to her arousal and approval based on the way she was gasping and struggling for air.

Sometimes the best plans are the ones derived spur of the moment. This is what I wanted. Her total acceptance of me, and I mean all of me.

Now it was time to pin the butterfly’s wings.
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BDSM On A Budget – The Chains™

Admit it, you watch “those” videos.

You know, the ones that are done professionally by pay-for-view sites. Famous bondage and/or adult actresses being restrained in a dungeon setting that all but the most serious or financially independent devotee of BDSM can afford, or at least hide.

Shackles everywhere. Pulleys capable of suspending livestock abound. Enough rope to outfit a four masted schooner. Leather cuffs and collars, steel spreader bars with all the connections. Cages. Fucking machines. Tables and racks right out of the Spanish Inquisition.

Their business is kink, and business is good. Especially after the success of a certain neutral hued book series.

I will bet that most couple’s virgin explorations of bondage began with something innocent, like a scarf or belt. Which in turn will lead to either experimenting with rope or that pink nylon bondage set from Adam & Eve, which will in the future be best known as the reason they get naughty catalogs in discreet envelopes every month.

Rope is sexy. It’s timeless, the classic. But unless you are already skilled in knot tying there is going to be a learning curve, as well as the specter of those fumblings in the dark with knots pulled taut or made too tight. Ligature marks are cool as fuck, but cutting off circulation and nerve damage aren’t, not to mention the tick tick ticking of the mood clock when either occurs.

I admit that I am trying to learn rope bondage, and for all the above you will not be reading about it here until I am confidant in not just my abilities but also grasp of the intricacies of what to tie where and why.

That is why I use this:

The Chains

If you want to know exactly what that is:

Chain Description

That is the shelf tag from a Home Depot (otherwise known in kink circles as Dom Depot) for what has been referred to on this blog as simply The Chains™. Like how shiny they are? Me too. And see that price? A whopping $1.67 a foot.

And they will cut it to length for you. Free. “You Can Do It. We Can Help.” Heh.

Is any of this sinking in yet? Are you grinning? I hope so.

Now before we go any further, what I am about to share with you as far as being able to enjoy professional quality bondage at a bargain basement price right in the privy of your own bedroom will require some serious leather bondage cuffs and a collar. You will not regret this investment. Don’t skimp on these. Your submissive deserves the best, it will give both of you countless hours of enjoyment and its safe. Plus its just fucking hot.

So back to Dom Depot. Armed with the aforementioned SKU/shelf talker information get as many lengths of pre-cut chain as you wish. As of this moment The Chains™ at TDND™ World Headquarters consist of:

  • Four 1′ lengths (great for  hog tying, ankle/ankle, wrist/wrist, or to connect to a collar)
  • Two 2′ lengths (a couple more of these are going to happen soon)
  • One 3′ length (I could use a few more of this length also)

Plus ten of these double ended, bolt action snap hooks (two came with the bondage cuffs):

Stainless Steel Fasteners

If you have ever owned a dog you know exactly what these are and how to use them. And make sure they are stainless steel so they match your chain lengths.

Everything I described above in the quantities indicated didn’t even come to $35 (excluding the cuffs and collar). Think about that when perusing the web or that naughty, indiscreetly mailed catalog for bondage toys.

For this post we will assume the majority of play is going to happen in bed. Future posts will discuss taking your new chain bondage skills elsewhere.

Just like the good folks at Dom Depot will do all the length work for you gratis, your mattress manufacturer also was nice enough to provide, at no additional cost, the perfect way to secure your submissive to the bed. Remember when you moved that mattress in and you had to carry it up a flight of stairs by those four handles securely attached a few feet from each corner?

Grinning again, aren’t you?

Follow these simple steps and you will have a bondage set-up that will look and sound (this is one area chain kicks rope’s ass) like those videos you watch when you should be working.

  • Per the information on the cuffs and collars link above, outfit your submissive with leather wrist and ankle bondage cuffs as well as a three ring leather bondage collar.
  • Take one each of the snap hooks and attach to each of the handles on your mattress.
  • Attach one of the same to each ankle and wrist cuff

Now let your imagination wander. The possibilities are almost endless as to how, where and with what you can render your submissive immobile. And you don’t even need to use all the chains! Snap hooking a wrist cuff to its corresponding ankle cuff requires all of two snap hooks that can clicked into place in seconds.

This is the hidden beauty of using chain over rope. It’s effortless to change set-ups and quickly. No fumbling with knots, or untying to retie. No skill set to acquire or master. It can be shortened or lengthened by a link with speed and ease as well.

I will often, at the end of a scene when its my turn to satisfy my physical needs, snap hook each of Leigh’s wrists to her ankles, then  chain those to the rings on her collar. Aside from being rendered spread eagle and helpless she can also relax in that all her limbs are now free of weight bearing.

Or connect each ankle with a 2′ length, then push it higher…and higher. I can even use my chest to pull her wider this way as I fuck her obscenely open cunt at my whim.

If you feel so inclined, some convenient eye hooks screwed into the rear of a headboard, or a bed frame leg, could provide countless more opportunities.

Your imagination is your limit as far as what you can do quickly, easily, in seconds and with a look, feel and sound that you see on those videos you really shouldn’t be watching at work. Positioning, access, ease of or rigidity or movement. And when it’s all over some unclicking and it all stores neatly and compactly onto itself. We use an old pillowcase and everything I mentioned fits in it with ease.

Chain bondage. We’re hooked on it.

– Scot

Chain Of Rules Act V

(To read Chain Of Rules Act IAct IIAct III or Act IV)

That first, shrill “EhhhhhHHHH!” when I roll Leigh’s nipples between my thumb and pointer finger is just divine.

And when those nipples are sitting atop arched, taut and thrust out breasts that are helpless against my whims and perversions, all the better. I adore, just fucking adore, how rigid they become when firmly rolled back and forth between my fingers.

It would seem like such a sophomoric play, but in actuality those two nipples present a multitude of erotic possibilities with potential to not just arouse but also torment, even torture them and their owner. So many variables to play with. How firmly do I squeeze them? Are they exceptionally hard? Do I gently apply pressure and tug on them, or perhaps pinch them? And if so, quickly or slowly, and for now long? Just once, or over and over and…

…it’s a lot of sadistic fun making Leigh a sopping mess this way.

And it does make her juices run. Many times a good nipple play session is all that is needed to ensure a wet, sloppy fuck.

(if you don’t believe me, after you finish this Act check out SDS. You’ll see)

Her stretched areola wrinkled like old newspaper beneath their proud, pointy head lines. Tweaking the intersection where nipples start and areola ends was especially fun, a whole new level of pain. To which Leigh added plenty of frantic squirming, pulling against the chains, pouty huffs of frustration and just general erotic misery in every conceivable fashion.

She may say she hates this, but she fucking loves it. And the aroma permeating the candlelit night air from her ripening cunt testified on my behalf, not hers.

Arousal by Nipple Torture. The verdict? Guilty. Her sentence? Hard time.

But that would be later. Right now court was still in session, with yours truly acting as judge, jury and executioner.

I pressed the fullness of my body against hers to not just lessen her ministrations but also savor them. Its one thing to watch and feel a part of her anatomy twist in the winds of sadomasochistic breast play, but to almost be an extension of her skin is quite another. It was if we were dancing, a most erotic, perverted dance but still two bodies moving in unison with one leading.

The intensity of her bound gyrations, laments and reactions to my hands on her nipples while my mouth devoured the nape of her neck was surreal. Her ass cheeks made short work of making my cock long, the hardness pressing almost painfully through the zipper of the faded jeans that stood between it and her flesh. She felt my arousal growing, both physically and emotionally, and was feeding off it just as I fed off her own soaked reaction.

With my mouth now adding a third way to abuse her, it was almost rhythmic how teeth, lips, breath, fingers, tongue and my mind were making her dance like a puppet on a chain.

“You fucking love this, don’t you cunt?” I whispered to her while grazing her earlobe between my teeth.

Silence except for the tunnnnggg sound of the chains being pulled tighter by her efforts to avoid my tactile and oral attack.

I squeezed both nipples hard. Pulling. Twisting. My fingers felt as if they touched. Add in a rather firm bite of her neck at the same time and..

“”AaaaaHHHHHHH!!!!” she cried out, obviously in pain.

After a quick release, I did it again. Harder.

“ShhhsshhSSSttTHHTHHSSTHHH!!!” was the outright hiss that escaped through her tightly clenched teeth, followed by panting and rapid, short breaths ragged with adrenaline and saliva. Now that I had her fucking attention I asked her again.

“You fucking love this, DON’T you cunt?”

“Yes Sir…” she quickly yet meekly offered.

Much better. I smiled, pleased.

Not long after some final tugs, twists and pinches she noticeably braced herself when my fingers left her nipples and all they could feel were the fingernails of my pointer fingers coiled tight against my thumbs.

She knew that sensation meant one thing.

That her delicate and already sore nipples were going to be flicked.

Go ahead. Right now. You don’t have to do it to any part of your anatomy, but take your pointer finger, bend it backwards and tuck it into your thumb’s fingerprint. Pretend there is something you want to flick. Now, with a concerted effort, make your pointer finger escape the catch your thumb is providing. Go on, do it.

flick

Feel that release? How much energy is being expended and in a controlled, precise manner? I am willing to bet a fair number of you did that to your own nipple, you perverts. I respect that.

Um, you can stop now.

Now imagine that after they have been not just severely tormented but also that they are tight, hard and helplessly displayed. Keep that sensation in mind as you read on.

When you flick nipples its akin to flogging them with a single strand flogger. A single strand of an otherwise innocuous item moving at a significant rate of speed, with its very tip the only part making contact with what ever is in its path. Which in this case were Leigh’s proud nipples.

“Ohhhhhhh, you know what is coming, don’t you?” I whispered while gazing down over her shoulder at the points of interest.

Her lip a quivering, pouty ledge, all she managed to utter was a pathetic whimper from somewhere deep inside.

Then I paused. And waited.

Did nothing but breath on her.

The tension mounted. Grew. Suspense permeated the room. Leigh braced for the inevitable. Often it’s not what you do but when and how you don’t do a single fucking thing. This technique is especially effective with blindfold play. The theatre of the senses takes over. The mind fuck of anticipation is mouth watering.

The silence was deafening. Our hearts felt like one.

flick went my fingers.

Temporarily insane went my Leigh.

A Peek Back 8-18

I promised, after last’s weeks tangent on safe words, this week would be story intensive. So far I feel that I have honored my word.

Counting poetry, which is special to me in that it’s about one person and one person only (my Leigh), there are five new pieces of erotica to read. And, before midnight Sunday, there will be at least two more.

That would be, since I was in school the day they covered sevens, seven stories and poems in seven days. Its been a challenge to keystroke that much and have the confidence in them to click Publish. But I have enjoyed it, and from the page views so have you. There is a very good chance we could set a single week views record.

Very soon, likely in the next week or so, you will be all privy to some flogging stories, or at least one. Our initial foray into flog play went very well. Leigh was quite floaty, and I was rather proud of my neophyte efforts with the leathers. She has given this avenue the green light, so it’s very likely that as the days grow shorter our flogging stories will grow longer (heh).

I fucking love using it on her. Not gonna lie. But there is so much to learn and consider when using one. Practice, practice, practice. Plus Leigh has had a most unique challenge this week. You’ll read more about that as well.

If you’re a first time Peeker™ Leigh and I welcome you to your virginal peek through the keyhole. I strongly encourage you to view all of the established Pages, which can be viewed by selecting any of the tabs at the top of this page.

The Archives are an inclusive, running version of every post of note on this blog. If you have not read any or all of the stories, random musings, poetry, etc linked from The Archives by all means please grab a seat, perhaps a cup of coffee (we’re big on coffee) sit back and enjoy.

Speaking of coffee, read this week’s Peek Back as I get some more:

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.12 – In leu of a Peeker™ question I accepted another blogging award. This means ten more pieces of Scot Trivia…sigh.

The Greatest Coffee Excuse Is 6 AM Monday – Considering I was barely awake this week’s assortment of random musings was pretty good.

Drip Drop – An erotic poem inspired by the candlelit vision that was Leigh’s chained, spread eagle pose.

Scenesounds – While we haven’t added music to scenes, this is why and also some we might when we do.

The Butterfly Chains Act II – My sadistic plans took an unexpected turn when Leigh’s erotic beauty cast a spell.

An Erotic World Champion Poet – My poem Drip Drop was featured in a cleverly named ePub. I’m totally claiming this.

Breaking Leigh Act XI – The final act in the longest story on the blog, and a very special one to me personally.

Breaking Leigh – Epilogue – The postscript to the above. What happened later that night plus some thoughts on the story.

My Alabaster Doll – Another piece of erotic poetry, this time regarding the flogging of Leigh’s beautifully displayed breasts.

One last thing, a confession if you will. I’m actually typing this Friday evening. Oh, I didn’t lie about getting more coffee. I am. Just not as I prepare to finalize this so I can sleep in with my doll.

Am I sorry to have possibly told a creative truth earlier?

Nope…

– Scot

An Erotic World Champion Poet

Or so Twitter ePaper publisher Julián Pérez thinks so.

Seems that he thought enough of my erotic poem Drip Drop to make it the Lead Adult Story in the latest edition of WORDS WORLD CHAMPION.

I’ve never been a World Champion before. This is seriously cool. The view from the highest tier of the awards podium is simply breathtaking…just like the view of my Leigh chained spread eagled to our bed, whose description of is how I got here in the first place

I hope the locals don’t start rioting, turning over cars and burning shit. If they do, I’ll just have then send the bill to Mr. Pérez.

Thank you Julián!

– Scot

 

The Butterfly Chains Act II

(To read The Butterfly Chains Act I)

They say time is money. Bullshit. Time is not money in that you can always make more money.

But I will agree that time has its own currency in the form of memories. They are the savings account of your life. This is why, when  its time to go, your life flashes before your eyes. You withdraw your life savings of the memories that made an impact, that affected you, that you want to take with you when you leave this reality.

Up unto that moment they just sit there. Some of them collect interest from your attention and other emotions, or perhaps are spent being shared with others, which in turn deposit new memories of the old ones with compounded interest.

Of course many of the obvious ones will flicker in your mind’s eye like a music video, the ones that flash a hundred half second clips of various views of the same life. A lot of them may surprise you in that you hadn’t given them much thought at the time they were deposited into your memory bank. But they did matter, to the point that they are one dollar’s worth of the last Benjamin of memories that your conscious self will savor one final time.

It’s inevitable. Long after I am gone future perverts may chance across this blog like our generation did to paper, ink and typewriter authors of decades long to the sands of time. And when they do I want them to know that one of those last dollars I withdrew was the candlelit sight of my Leigh nude, cuffed, spread eagled and chained with legs as wide as her anatomy allowed.

I had every intention of taking advantage of her helplessness. The fact her hands were secured beneath a bevy of pillows like a kinky Princess And The Pleas, or that her cunt was spread so fucking wide open it would have made Larry Flynt blush.

She was completely vulnerable to any and every sadistic whim that I could fathom from the  murky depths of my demented imagination. I had her exactly how and where I wanted. So what was the first thing I did to her?

I gasped

Holy. Fuck.

She was radiant in the flickering light from the flames dancing atop the candles. My eyes widened, jaw slightly dropped, pulse raced, mouth grew dry. I was in the presence of erotic perfection, and it stopped me stone fucking cold in my tracks.

The links of the chains glowed as if they were on fire, and from the heat coming from their captive that was not out of the question. Hues of pale yellow streaked with traces of electric blue and cold pewter. Each color morphed into the other with each gust from the ceiling fan onto those candles, which in turn made the chains pulse with life. Or how the dark monochrome of the black leather on the ankle cuffs provided such a dynamic chiaroscuro against the soft candlelit nirvana that is Leigh’s alabaster skin.

Shadowy flesh tones, warm with lust and dim light, painted each and every valley of the landscape of her torso with soft, velvety strokes. The culmination depicted a bondage masterpiece of timeless beauty.

Her breasts and upper torso, while still obscured by the antiquated effects of the cutwork linen top, brought their own contributions via the crisp shadows cast by pert breasts stretched taut with tension, their hardened nipples proudly teased me with their own shadow play. And of course the way her eyes just glistened, their moisture a hint of things to come…literally.

Of particular attention was the indescribable beauty of the subtle valleys where thighs meet hips. It was right there that I, for a second, forget my name. Her legs were so fucking open, so damn wide. Her cunt was mine to abuse and tease as I wished. I could have buried my tongue in there for an hour and she couldn’t have done a damn thing about it. I could have teased all the way around  her open folds for an hour and she couldn’t have done a damn thing about it. Or I could have brought her right to the edge of a tongue lapping clitoral orgasm and decided if I was going to allow her to enjoy it or suffer the frustration of starting over.

So what did I do?

I worshiped her.

“My God baby you look amazing” I whispered. There was no need to speak so softly, but I felt like was I was in church. It seemed appropriate. Talk about gifts I am about to receive!

I leaned down, placed my face mere inches from her cunt, and just looked. I’m sure she could feel the heat of my breath caressing each and every labial fold and crevice. It wasn’t meant as a form of torture. I just wanted to drink every fucking inch of her in.

With the care one might extend to the cradling of a newborn my fingers made contact with her uppermost thighs, right where they transcend into hips. So tightly drawn was the silken flesh that cascaded across those subtle valleys. So smooth, warm, full of life, delicate, even ticklish to an extent. Leigh will say she is not ticklish. She lies.

Tracing their contours I felt her squirm in reflex as a “Mhhhhhmmm” escaped from her lips into the night. Back and forth my fingers stroked her, so much so that as I looked up over her clitoral hood, past her gently rolling torso, through those magnificent breasts and upon the lust painted on her face…

… I had to get my lips on hers.

I was in no hurry, so with a dry, open mouth kiss where my hands had been I snaked my way, kiss by nibble by lick, up the length of her bound and taut body. Across her stomach, her ribs, the base of her breasts, those collar bones, finally arriving at a nape being offered as if I had fangs. So delicious.

Our eyes met before our lips did. Magic danced in their blue depths. And with the force of a butterfly’s wing two hungry mouths became one passionate, deep, tongues dancing kiss. Magic indeed.

For even with everything I had planned, I knew right then I was going make something very large, hot and angry disappear deep inside her spread wings.

Now.

The Butterfly Chains Act III

Drip Drop

Hard thoughts melt like the candle

wax poetic drip drop falling

by the bedside I knelt at the

altar of your surrender in hushed

silence my thirst with beauty and

the beast inside me kneels in

that neither are able nor

wish that this moment would never

die for you I would I swear

fuck baby

are you aware how erotic a

butterfly with alabaster wings

pinned wide with chains so hard

so wet so open your eyes

again I drown

in their drip drop blue

chrome glistening taut tight

drip drop dew drop down

I fall in love as the

candles drip dropping

before I enter your

dripping cunt

– Scot (trying to capture the absolute beauty that was Leigh’s candlelit spread eagle chain bondage in The Butterfly Chains)