Thursday, January 15, 2015


The thing that interests me the most about cooking is the chemistry involved. You can take an egg (a liquid) and apply heat to it, and it changes into a solid (an omelet). Because I'm able to understand these phase changes, I'm actually a very gifted cook. I can read a recipe once, understand the basic methodology the various chemical/physical reactions it's intending to create, and improvise. I'm able to open my fridge, scan the leftovers, jars and vegetables, and compile a quick meal that exceeds most courses on offer at higher end restaurants. I'm not saying this from my point of view. I'm saying it from the point of view of the countless dozens of people who have been the recipient of my cooking. They cannot help themselves but offer their joy and delight upon immediately tasting the cuisine in front of them. All it takes to make a good dinner is concentration and clarity.

So then, why would I fuck with this combination by putting my girl into a predicament bondage tie while I'm in the middle of preparing the main course for an upcoming dinner party?

It had been awhile since she and I had played, and we had both been able to take off some extended time from our jobs during the holidays. This left us with more leisure time than we're used to having. I was going to the Italian market that morning, to get the essential ingredients for the sauce I'd be serving for dinner. As I was leaving, my girl came to me and expressed her interest in being tied up at some point that day - and who would turn that down? I told her I would be able to work it in once I started cooking.

The afternoon arrived, and I led her to the bedroom. On the bed, I had already laid out four 7-meter lengths of hemp rope, her latex-strapped wand/vibe harness, and her baby pink latex hood from Kink Engineering. I quickly bound her arms at her elbows, then anchored these to her torso, encircling her tits, until all bits were well wrapped and squeezed. I moved to her left leg, and affixing her wrists to her ankles, bound up her leg so that it was pointing up towards the ceiling. I repeated this same arrangement on her right side, threaded the rope through the outer bars of her bed, which forced her thighs up and outward. She would not be closing those for the entire time she was bound. I buckled her Hitachi into the harness wound around her crotch, and rest it between her legs. The head of the wand rested firmly against her naked, anticipating cunt. The last thing I did was to pull the snug, pink latex hood over her head, ensuring the micro-cut nose holes were in the right spot on her face.
And then I left.

I wandered into the kitchen, set the timer on the oven for 8 minutes, and began preparing the ingredients for my tomato sauce. When the timer went off, I quietly entered the bedroom. I began to inspect the rope, to make sure her circulation remained vibrant. I checked to make sure her breathing in the hood wasn't too obstructed. Kissed her delicately on the shiny, pink forehead, then flicked the switch on the Hitachi to 'low', and exited the bedroom.

Setting the kitchen timer to 10 minutes, I returned to my task, sautéing the ingredients I had prepared. The scent of the aromatics in the pan finally burst into the air right as the timer went off.

Once again, I penetrated the quiet bedroom, but this time, I was met with the constant hum of the Hitachi, and the seductive myews of a girl slowly reducing into a sexual collapse. Immediately, I turned the wand off. I methodically checked the rope and her breathing, and saw that she could easily remain for a good time more. I began to walk myself back to the kitchen, but before I left the room, I felt the rhythmic throb of my erect cock tenting out my slacks. In fact, once I took a moment to notice, my entire demeanor had altered, and a hunger to torment smeared itself all over my face. I reached into the nightstand and pulled out my black, latex cock sheath, lubed up my pulsing member, and slid it into the sheath.

I went back to the kitchen to attend to the sauce cooking on the stove. Set the kitchen timer for 8 minutes, and tried as much as possible to not think about the bound, naked, writhing frame lying on my bed.

Over the course of 45 minutes, I would repeat the cycle of wand on/wand off, eventually building the crescendo of not being able to stop myself from sampling the pool of erotic energy that once was my girl.

Incidentally, the sauce turned out amazing. Our dinner guests couldn't stop praising its richness and vitality.