“Now let’s get back to your punishment,” he says. “Why don’t you start off with some ideas?”

Inwardly, I groan. I don’t want to answer his question. There are so many things that he can do, so many options in his arsenal. Bastinado is probably my least favorite, so I don’t want to offer up that suggestion. But he’ll know if I’m trying to lowball my punishment.

As if impatient for an answer, he tugs the crotch rope even higher.

“Nipple clamps?” I yelp. “A clothespin zipper? Making me blow you for hours on end?”

“Not bad. Let’s do them all. Along with my ideas, of course.”

My stomach feels queasy, but I’m encouraged that I’ll get to do the fellatio.

Stepping behind me, he unties my leg. My standing foot is so happy to have the other foot bear my weight for a change.

“Squat down,” he orders as he loosens the rope above my wrists.

I lower myself. He pushes me till my butt is touching my ankles, then spreads my thighs wide. With the cord of rope in his hands, he binds my upper leg to my calves. He retrieves another cord of rope and does the same to my other leg. With both legs bent and bound, I can’t run. The position pushes more of my weight towards my toes. I really wish I had never bought these damn shoes. I may refuse to wear heels the rest of my life.

Darren undoes the rope from the pipes, but instead of freeing my wrists like I had hoped, he anchors the end of the rope to the crotch rope. My wrists, no longer pulled above me, are now secured behind my neck, stretching my triceps.

Squatting down to face me, he reaches between my thighs and touches me, a finger on each side of the rope, teasing me. Unfulfilled desire from before percolates in anticipation. Taking hold of the knot, he wiggles it against my clit. My breath quickens. I should not be wanting this.

After he’s worked me up, he stands and undoes his jeans. “Now you can blow me.”

I stare at the semi-erect cock he pulls out. He came once already, so it may take a while to get him to come again. I just hope my body can survive being tied up for the duration.

“Come on, Bridge,” he urges, waving his erection in front of me.

I open my mouth wide, like a baby bird for its meal. He slaps his shaft against me, deliberately missing my mouth. I try my best to catch him. He lets me. My lips close about his hardness. I tongue the underside of his cock and suck till my cheeks cave in.

Putting a hand on the top of my head, he pushes me down his length. I start to gag when he goes too far. I haven’t done this in over two years. He pulls my head back, then pushes me back down even farther this time. My body resists, and I try my best to relax and adjust. When we were together, he always gave me a respite. It wasn’t always as much as I wanted, but it was enough to gather my bearings. But there’s no relief this time. I choke and cough on him. My body retches when his cock hits the back of my throat.