The Eye Bolt

We moved in the house a few months ago, but I didn't notice the eye bolt in the door frame until last week. Or maybe you don't call it a door frame, since there's not actually a door. It's just the molding that frames the wide passage between the living room and the hall to the bedrooms. It struck me all of a sudden as an odd thing to be there. It wasn't centered, but off to the left, more than a foot from the wall-anything hanging from it would have blocked the obvious route from the living room down the hall to the powder room.

It was one of those cold, rainy Sundays when we weren't much inclined to do more than laze around in our PJs, so I postulated about how the previous residents might have used such an eye bolt for way too long before I asked him, "What do you think that eye bolt is for? It's pretty sturdy-looking, what in the world could you possibly hang there though? And only seven feet from the floor..."

"My girl," he said, bemused, "I'm sure that eye bolt has consumed all of your thoughts for a full five minutes, the look on your face is priceless."

I rolled my eyes, but I was silently grateful for his quiet patience with my quirks.

"A purpose for it doesn't leap to mind...But I might be able to come up with a way to press it into service," he said with a sly grin.

My heart lept with excitement and I moved towards him on the couch. But his phone rang. Work. He needed to fly out that evening and needed to pack and leave the house right away to make his flight.

"I see what you're wanting," he said as he rose from the couch, disappointment in his eyes, "but there's not enough time. I'm barely going to make the last flight out as it is."

"At least tell me what you have in mind for the eye bolt," I pleaded, "Otherwise it will bother me until you get back!"

"Of course, that's the point. I'll be home just after you are on Tuesday night, you'll find out then."

I grabbed his shirt tail as he walked away. He stopped and I pulled him back towards my spot on the couch, where he turned to look down at me. I stood and placed my hands at the comfy place just above his hips and looked up into his eyes as I pulled my body toward his.

"Don't look at me like that." Another sly grin. He slowly ran his hand up my side and traced my collar bone with his fingers before squeezing ever so slightly.

"Not fair," I gasped. I could feel my panties dampen, but I knew what he was about and tried not to get my hopes up. He squeezed my throat slightly harder and then brought his hand to the nape of my neck to grab a handful of my messy, blonde Sunday-morning hair. He gave a gentle yet commanding tug and pulled me to kiss him, biting my lip as he pulled away. He grabbed my ass with both hands and leaned back to look at me directly. I felt the heat from his hand through my pajama pants and lace panties when he placed it between my legs with a meaningful pat.

"I'm going to send you a little something tomorrow. When I get home at six on Tuesday, you better be wearing it. Spread your legs." I did. He looked at me sternly and cleared his throat.

"Yes, sir," I said and spread my legs a bit wider. He smacked my pussy harder than I was expecting, but he caught me before I lost my balance.

"No. Touch. While. I'm. Gone." A hard smack came with each word and my pussy dampened more with each contact. He grabbed my hips and pulled me upward until I stood normally. His hands found the inside of my shirt and I felt his warm fingers travel over my ribs, under my breasts, and to my rapidly hardening nipples. I gasped when he pinched my right nipple and then my left. Hard. He held them both and continued to squeeze, "These too. Promise?"

"Yes, sir," my eyes began to water from the pain and he released his grip. He leaned down to kiss me again and grabbed two handfuls of hair this time. But he pulled me towards him so tenderly; when he kissed me, the memory of the pain disappeared. Ever so gently, he lowered me to the couch.

"Close your eyes," he whispered. Thinking the scenario had turned in my favor, I complied, sighing in anticipation as I felt him step backwards. After a moment I opened them and he was gone: in the bedroom packing.

"That asshole," I thought, even though I was smiling.

-

He sent me a text from the plane detailing what he would do to me under the blanket if I were sitting beside him in first class.

And another from his hotel room describing how I would look when the morning light streamed through the window and highlighted all the curves of my naked body sprawled on the hotel sheets.

And another from the conference room of a high rise to tell me about the silhouettes the neighboring building would see if he had me pinned against the tall glass windows.

His texts had me seriously reconsidering my promise to him by Monday night when a courier arrived at the front door. He was holding a brown paper package tied up with string. An actual brown paper package tied up with actual string and addressed with calligraphy. "How cheesy," I said aloud, but I was flattered and impressed and giddy with excitement.

I practically grabbed the pen and paper out of the courier's hand to sign and I really did slam the door in his shocked face. I pulled off the string and the wrapping and tore open the outer box to reveal a pink box with black ribbon and a brown shoe box with white print. I grinned: a "little" something, indeed.

-

I received a string of texts starting Tuesday morning: the excruciating details of a scene in our own bed.

By lunchtime, I could hardly stand it anymore. I was so distracted, I barely made it through an afternoon training meeting. I could feel my pussy getting wetter and wetter. When I stood up after the meeting, I'd left a wet spot on the chair. I could feel the color drain from my face in embarrassment and then my boss called me back to reality.

"Are you OK? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I stammered something about not feeling well and she looked at her watch. "Go on home. We'll muddle through the afternoon without you." By the time I drove home, my panties were completely soaked. Two hours later, I was ready and counting down the minutes until 6pm.

He walked in a few minutes early to find me leaning against the living room wall, caressing the silk of the corset where it hugged the curve of my waist, my breath shallow with anticipation and the tops of the stockings wet from my dripping pussy.

I didn't notice him until he said, "Look at me, slut." I turned towards him, losing my balance from a combination of the red-soled high heels and nervousness. He caught my eye and the heat I saw there took my breath away for a moment. I started to speak, but he cut me off, "Shut up, whore. You'll speak when spoken to."

"Yes, sir," I lowered my eyes. He'd already taken off his shoes and socks, I noticed, in order to better sneak up on me.

"Stand up straight. Here, in the middle." He changed the angle of the blinds without fully opening them. The living room lights were low, but the hall lights were on-backlighting-and I knew he wanted anyone who walked by the picture window to see the outline of me standing, practically naked, legs slightly spread, in the middle of the room. He circled around me, staring at every part of my new outfit and me in it. The intensity of his stare made me feel even more naked and exposed. He must have noticed a change of my facial expression. He walked behind me and his fingers rested on my ass just where the suspender passed from the corset, over the curve of my ass cheek, and down to the stockings. He flipped on the ceiling fan-knowing the cool breeze would make me feel more vulnerable-and then popped the suspender so hard I felt the welt form on my skin.

Goose bumps grew on my exposed skin and my nipples hardened. He went to his bag and pulled out two orange boxes. He continued to appraise me as he came to stand in front of me. He put a finger under my chin, I did not resist when he pushed upward, nor did I lower my chin when he released me. He bit my neck just above my collar bone hard enough redden the skin and then kissed the mark he'd made.

"You wear that well."

"Thank you, sir."

"These are for us. You may open them." I went to sit down, but he barked, "Bitch! I did not give you permission to move."

"My apologies sir," I said quietly, eyes fixed on the carpet. I removed the brown and white ribbon from the first orange box and revealed a butter-soft silk necktie. I looked at him questioningly, but he only held out his hand to take the tie and hand me the other box. I was trembling with desire: being on display in the cool air had unsettled me further. A beautiful, intricately detailed silk scarf fell from my shaking fingers to the floor.

I watched it settle on the carpet, the shadows pooling in the folds of the fabric. When I looked up at him, he didn't seem angry and I sighed internally with relief, but it was premature.

"Hands on your ankles, skank."

I spread my legs further to keep my balance in the high heels. He walked around behind me, off to one side. He placed his palm on my inner thigh and chuckled at the wetness he found there, "Have I got you worked up a bit, slut? No need to answer, I can feel it for myself." He buried two fingers in my pussy and effortlessly found my clit and rubbed two circles. He ran his wet fingers from my clit to my asshole and then placed his palm on my left ass cheek. I was not expecting his hand's sharp crack on my right cheek, followed by an equally sharp crack on the other side.

"Pick up the scarf and stand up. But keep your legs spread."

He folded the scarf and tied it around my eyes, He followed the lines of my neck, collar bone, and arms down to wrists, which he gripped tightly for a moment. Still holding one wrist, he reached for the first orange box and removed the tie. He secured the tie around my right wrist and demanded that I remove his shirt. I took a small step forward to comply, placing my hand on his chest, I felt the tie swing with the motion and brush against my leg. I could feel his heart beating just as rapidly as mine. I finished with the buttons and felt my way to his cuffs. I ventured towards his hard cock in my search and was rewarded with another smack on my ass.

"Focus, whore."

I finally managed the shirt cuff buttons and he took off the shirt. I could only imagine how wonderful he looked standing there in his dress pants and undershirt with the light from the street peeking through the blinds. I felt him step away and swallowed a brief feeling of loss until I heard him closing the blinds all the way. His back was to me when he said, "Tell me whose cock you want."

"Only yous, sir. I am your slut, sir. And only yours."

"Good girl," I could hear the smile in his voice.

Hi hand traveled up my waist and over my breast to caress my neck and then my hair. He grabbed my hair close to my scalp and pulled sharply. He pulled me towards him and I felt the soft cotton of his undershirt against my arms and the wool of his dress pants on my bare thighs. He kissed me deeply, never releasing the pressure on my hair. I continued to lean in for more, my hands traveling downward, but he pushed me away. He tied both my wrists together and led me a few steps towards the hallway. He raised my hands over my head and attached me to the eye bolt in the door frame. He took a step back to appraise me-I could almost feel his eyes take me in. When he took a step back towards me, he had removed his under shift and I could feel the warmth of his skin close to mine. He raised his hand to my throat and held it there without touching me. The heat from his hand and his closeness was intoxicating. I leaned further into him. He gripped my throat but did not squeeze. He pulled me into another kiss and slowly tightened his grip, his other hand exploring between my legs, which I willingly spread.

He shoved me against the door frame and I could only stand there panting for a moment. He penetrated me with two, then three fingers and I could no longer keep silent. I gasped and moaned with pleasure. He flipped down the top of the corset, finding my nipples with his tongue. The combined sensations making the waves of an orgasm wash over my entire body.

I heard him pull something out of his pockets before I felt the sharp bite of the clamps on my nipples. He leaned in to kiss me again and I inhaled sharply from the pain the weight of his body atop the nipple clamps caused. He kissed down my neck and along the sides of my breasts and down to my belly button before placing tiny, excruciating kisses all around each nipple. Again, his hand reached between us my thighs, but this time he found my clit. The sensation made me force my hips backwards into the cold wood of the door frame and he used the leverage to force four fingers inside my soaking pussy. He returned to my clit, circling his fingers until my orgasm began again. When he noticed me cumming, he removed one of the nipple clamps without warning. The sensation of the blood rushing back into the sensitive nipple sustained my orgasm and I was thankful that I was leaning on the molding or my entire weight would have pulled against the tie and eye bolt. The orgasm began to subside but he continued to massage my clit and yanked off the other nipple clamp, again without warning. The orgasm that rocked me this time made me scream and he held me against his chest as the waves of the orgasm crashed around me.

When he untied me from the eye bolt, I dropped to my knees, then to a kneeling position. Legs slightly spread, arms on my thighs, hands up. He came to me and I ran my fingers over his naked legs and torso, working my way back down to his cock. With his balls in one hand, and gripping his waist with the other, I took his entire length down my throat. I held the position until I gagged and I moved my attention back to the tip and explored with my tongue. He forced me further down his shaft with gentle pressure to the back of my head and I continued to work up and down taking him deeper into my throat each time. His salty pre-cum trickled down the back of my throat and I took his cock even deeper. But he grabbed a handful of hair and pulled me up to my feet, wobbling on the high heels.

He turned me around and pulled my hips towards him so I was slightly bent over with my ass out and my arms above my head, retied to the eye bolt. I felt the air from his swing just before I felt his hand make contact with my skin. The skin on my ass check felt hot and I knew it was red, I gasped.

Another swing and stinging contact, this time on the opposite cheek.

"Whore!" he growled at me. "How many?"

"Two, sir."

I made it to twenty before my tears and eyeliner soaked through the scarf and streaked down my cheeks. He moved to the backs of my thighs and I continued my count for then more strokes. I begged for mercy from his stinging hand but his answer was only to place his hand between my thighs and laugh again at the dripping juices he found there. He released the tie from the eye bolt and shoved me bodily to the couch. I landed on my back and tried to sit up, but he pinned me down at my hips. He forced my hips downward and I felt his warm breath of my pussy and clit. He came to his knees in front of me and teased me by kissing my thighs and pussy lips. Finally, I couldn't stand it and pleaded to be allowed to come again.

"No," was the only thing he said.

He threw the couch cushions on the floor to make room for both of us. He pushed me onto my back, held my arms above my head, and forced my legs into the air. The tip of his cock just entered me and he pulled it out, teasing me with several shallow strokes. I begged shamelessly for him to pound my pussy.

His hand gripped my throat and he laughed and asked me to whom my pussy belonged. "You sir, only you," was all I could say. Pleased with my answer, he entered me deeply but slowly-I sighed with pleasure and the relief of feeling him fully inside of me. Each stroke came deep and fast after that and he bit my neck as the crescendo of his orgasm peaked. He removed the scarf from my eyes and brushed the sweaty curls from my face. I met his eyes as his trembling fingers untied my wrists and he wrapped his arms around me.

"Thank you, sir," I whispered with a small smile, all my energy drained.

"Sleep, my girl. I will be here with you."

I closed my eyes and he tried to wipe the streaks of mascara from my cheeks. The last thing I remember is the warmth of his embrace and the sound of his voice saying, "You are beautiful and perfect and I love you," over and over again.