Soundtrack: New Born by Muse.
“Hello, you,” Grey said, approximately thirty-five seconds after I’d ended an ‘Are you sure we should breakup?’ call with The Lapdog. “Are you free tonight? I’m driving down.”
I thought about it for a minute before answering. Was I really going to sleep with two different men in twenty-four hours? I was slutty, sure… but was I that slutty? There was only one way to find out, I supposed. [We all used condoms and had fully negative STI tests, and I was on the contraceptive pill. I was a smart slut.]
“Pick me up at eight?” I said.
“I’ll be there.”
And then we did what we always did: went for dinner, had a few drinks (me,) and filthily flirted all throughout the evening.
“Your place or mine?” he asked, after paying for dinner, just like always.
We did the back n’ forth beforehand, of course; I tried to pay, he batted my cash away, rinse and repeat. I don’t think I paid for a single dinner over the course of our friends-with-benefits-situationship. Like, ever. Grey would never, ever let me pay. It was both hot and frustrating in equal measures because even back then, I was a little feminist who could pay for her own shit. You know?
“Do you even have a hotel yet?”
He laughed. “Nope.”
“My place it is, then.”
Ropes
We had to sneak into The Flat as Bestie was asleep and had an early work start; so, of course, we made more noise than anyone has ever made in the history of humans. I tripped up the stairs, then giggled loudly. Grey giggled loudly after me, which then made me laugh even louder because why was he sober and laughing that loud?! I accidentally slammed a door; dropped my keys on the loudest floor in the building; and then didn’t notice a spoon in the sink before turning the tap on, which resulted in water spraying out everywhere in quite dramatic fashion. Guess what happened next? Yes: lots o’ giggles. Needless to say, we woke Bestie up… and he was not happy.
Eventually, we made it to my bedroom, stifling giggles all the way.
“I’ve got you something,” Grey said, pulling a small box out of his rucksack.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
I took the box and threw him a deep frown. “You don’t need to buy me gifts. I’m already going to shag you.”
I was so uncouth sometimes. It made me wish that I had that filter that other people had, between mouth and brain. Not me. Oh, no. If it’s in my head, it’s coming straight out of my mouth, and it’s just as much of a surprise to me as it is to everyone else.
Still, Grey was laughing and smiling, so maybe he liked a goofy girl that fell over and couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
Inside the box was about a thousand layers of pink tissue paper. It made me wonder if he bought them in bulk for all of his girlfriends… or was I just special? I hoped so. Finally, I got to the gift inside.
Some rope.
Some rope?
“Let me show you,” Grey said, taking everything out of my hands and unravelling the ropes. Plural. Each one had a hangman-like noose at the ends.
“Ummm… what is this?” If it was a suicide pact, I wasn’t into it.
He shook his head in either disbelief or exasperation. I couldn’t work out which one it was. “Look,” he said, coiling the non-noose ends of the rope through my ivy leaf headboard, then tying them. He pointed to the noose ends. “Your hands go in here. There are knots, so you can always get out or loosen them, see?”
“Ohhhh, for sex!” I nodded, the penny final dropping.
“Come on, then.”
“Now?”
Grey nodded. “No time like the present.”
I hadn’t the slightest clue what I was meant to do, but I got on the bed, fully clothed, and positioned myself so he could slip my wrists through those nooses.
“Do you remember your safe word?” he asked, tightening the ropes.
“Mazda.”
“May I blindfold you?”
Oh, god. For a split second I wondered if this was a long-ass ploy to serial kill me, but honestly, fucking him would be a pretty good way to go out. I wouldn’t be too sad about it, you know?
Ted Bundy would’ve had a field day with me.
Anyway, I nodded my agreement because I was too intrigued to turn back. My wrists were already in the rope nooses. He was already grabbing a black silk scarf from his rucksack full of tricks. Fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Grey arranged the scarf around my head, tying it tightly, but not so tight that it was uncomfortable. He checked with me approximately fifty times in thirty seconds, which was both wonderful and fucking irritating. Just get on with it, for fuck’s sake.
There was the longest pause before anything happened. He didn’t seem to move, and he didn’t touch me. Was he admiring me? Studying me… just like The Lapdog had done? Grey’s hand on my leg jolted me from my thoughts, and thank goodness, too: I was starting to feel guilty for my literal double-dipping.
Grey nudged his hand further up my thigh, lifting my lazy-day sundress and revealing white cotton undies with printed cherries all over them, that I definitely wouldn’t have worn had I known that he was planning to visit. Still, I might not have been able to see, but I could just tell that he was smiling. The air between us felt like he was smiling. You will never understand that sentence until you have experienced it for yourself; then, you will know exactly what I’m talking about.
He slid my underwear off next, with a nudge of his hand against my hips – a sign for me to lift them. I did, of course; I lifted my hips, then my legs, then my ankles in a bid to hurry things along. I parted my legs, too. I had no patience when it came to him. Not a single drop of it. The ropes made things all the more difficult for me, as did the blindfold, but we both knew just how much I loved having one or more senses taken away during sex. It made things all the more intense for me, like every other sense was lit on fire in the filthiest and most explicit of ways.
Grey stroked the insides of my thighs for a while, playing the close-but-not-close-enough game with my cunt. I knew why he did it, but that didn’t make it any less infuriating. Still, I didn’t stop him, or grumble about it. It would all be worth it the end; I knew that without any doubt.
Out of nowhere he kissed me. His lips touched mine before I’d even realised that there was movement on the mattress. I never feel like ‘kiss’ is the right word when it comes to Grey. Yes, he kisses me… but it’s more than that, always. It’s a kiss that tells stories and asks for permission. It sets scenes and provides encouragement without a single word. Sometimes, it’s so intense that it leaves me literally gasping for more, just like that day, on my bed. Our kiss ended suddenly and without warning, and I gasped when he pulled away.
I felt his hands fumble with the front of my dress for a few seconds, then a cool breeze on my nipples as he freed my breasts. He was playing the long game. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was exquisite, nevertheless. It would be better than what I wanted, anyway. Wasn’t it always?
I’d had some pretty good sex before Grey walked into my life (and some pretty bad sex, too,) but with him, sex was something different entirely. I’d say that he could read my mind, in a way, but that doesn’t quite fit. He seemed to know, instinctively, what I would like, before I even knew that those kinks existed, and he repeatedly put kinks on the map in such a way that it actually felt like my idea.
Grey was my first Dom (in a Dominant/submissive dynamic) before the D/s world was even on my radar. He knew about my praise kink before I did, and my ‘senses’ kink, and the fact that I wasn’t exactly vanilla. (Not that there’s anything wrong with vanilla, of course! I like that sometimes, too.)
That man knew how to make me come without a single hint or tip. He knew what to find, when to find it, and what to do when he found it; and exactly the right spots for me to turn to literal mush in his hands; and, when he didn’t, he hunted them out in exquisitely torturous ways.
That’s exactly what he was doing on that bed, with my wrists through those ropes, too: hunting out the little spots that made me squirm under his touch. He massaged my breasts, bit them, licked them, sucked them, and toyed with them; switching between the lightest of touches and the heaviest of hands. Once he’d found the spots and moves that made me gasp, moan lightly, or fidget, he’d repeat them, over and over again, just to make sure. He was turning me to mush… again. Just like always.
Grey kissed his way down my body slowly, with little chuckles whenever I tried to nudge things along. It would’ve been nice to make him the centre of attention for a change, but maybe we could tackle that subject next time around. I knew that I was a pretty selfish lover from a pretty early point, but with Grey, I felt beyond selfish. He never seemed to care much for his own desires, but maybe taking care of mine was his kink? Either way, I wanted to do for him what he’d been so eager to do for me – and did, frequently.
He slid one finger along my slit, making me jump and shattering my thoughts. Perhaps his patience was wearing thin, too? He certainly seemed to be in a rush all of a sudden, switching to a much faster pace with my cunt than he’d chosen for my breasts. We went from zero-to-sixty in 0.3 seconds, but that was just one more move that Grey was really, really good at.
I was already beyond turned on with his prolonged nipple play, but when his tongue finally made contact with my clitoris, I genuinely thought that my head was going to explode from how damn good it felt. My hands so desperately wanted to grab his head, or grip hold of his muscled shoulders, or something. They couldn’t, though. The restraints had done exactly the job they were intended: they had kept me firmly in place, with my hands firmly out of the way.
I both loved and hated those damn ropes in equal measure.
Grey slid two fingers inside me and started to gently nudge my clit with his thumb. Not too much pressure, of course; just enough to remind me what we were there for. His other hand wandered to my nipple, pinching it, then releasing it, then pinching it again. That combination has always been a winner for me, to this day: fingers/thumb on clit + nipple play. It’s one of the quickest ways to make me orgasm, especially if you insert a finger or two, too. It wasn’t the first time that Grey had pulled out that move, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last, either. And on this day, just like all of the other times, it had the desired effect: it brought on an orgasm that took an age to build, seemed to teeter on the edge for a while, and then came to a crescendo so tremendous that I would remember and chase the feeling for the rest of my life.
He kissed me in the minutes after, and he tasted of me plus the Coca-Cola that he’d had in the restaurant earlier.
“Can I get you some water?” he offered.
I thought he’d at least untie me before he went off to get it, but he didn’t. He just left me there, blindfolded and tied up with ropes, for the time it took him to use the bathroom, run the tap for twenty seconds or so, then pour me a plastic tumbler full of water; which, of course, I spilled all over the bed 0.3 seconds after he handed it to me.
Standard. (For fuck’s sake.)
The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: Pick One.
Thank you so much for reading my blog today! 🖤
Want to read all about My Mr. Grey’s story, right from the very beginning? You’ll find that right here.
You can also read all about my disastrous dating history, right from the beginning, right here: Table of Dating Contents.
Alternatively, why not have a little peek around here:
