My First Time Tied Under the Kitchen Table: Total Surrender
In the kitchen, my heart hammered like a drum. That voice, low and commanding: “Tie yourself.” My first time. No turning back. Hands trembled as I looped the noose around my left knee. Pulled tight to the table leg. Slid two fingers between rope and skin—secure. His gaze scorched me, stirring heat between my thighs.
Right knee next. Ankle left, then right. Legs splayed wide, animal stance. Exposed, vulnerable under the table. Pussy dripping already. Excitement twisted with nerves. Last knot. Legs locked. Couldn’t move. Hands still free, though. Quick tug could free me. But I wouldn’t.
The Approach
Chair scraped close. Gripped the metal bars under the seat. First padlock clicked through my left cuff, into the bar. Locked. Pulse raced, throat dry. Second click on the right. Done. Prisoner now. His alone. No escape but his mercy.
He sat, pyjama pants down. Cock semi-hard, heavy on my tongue. Mouth opened wide. He scooted forward. Head pinned against table underside. No retreat. Panic hit hard—ropes held firm. Terror choked me. But his cough. Eyes locked. Trust flooded in. Safe. His.
Deep throat first try. Gagged reflex. Fought it. Tongue swirled. He stirred coffee, spoon clinking. Ignored me. Cock swelled, stretching my jaw. Breathe through nose. Saliva dripped. Focused every inch.
“You forgot the honey.” Voice flat, disappointed. Froze. Shame burned hotter than lust. Pulled out. Hands followed empty. He stood, grabbed jar, sat back. Cock rammed deep again. Sucked harder. Desperate to please. Head tilted—tip mashed cheeks, then throat. Teeth grazed shaft lightly. His groan—small, but mine. Pride surged.
Alternated suction, licks on sensitive spots. Knew his spots already, somehow. Full erection throbbed. He ate silent, object under table. No touch. Just service.
The Instant
Plate empty. Stood. Left. Door swung shut. Alone. Tied tight. Punishment sank in—rejection stung deepest. No whips; this hurt soul-deep. Maso heart craved pain, not disdain. Trembled. Tears pricked. Minutes stretched eternal. Self-hate swirled. Forgot honey? Failure.
Knew safeword would bring him running. But no. Deserved this. Waited, heart aching for approval.
Footsteps. Back. Padlocks snicked open. Ropes tugged free. Crawled out, knees raw. Stayed on all fours.
Arms around me. Warm. “Thank you, Master,” whisper broke. “Calm down. It’s over.” Hugged back fierce. His scent—musk, safety. Fingers in hair, soft. Kisses on forehead. Back stroked. Terror melted. Peace bloomed.
Minutes passed. Calm settled. Looked up—smile. Mine matched. Ready again.
That kitchen morning broke me open. Innocence shattered in ropes and saliva. Discovered true surrender’s edge—fear-laced bliss. No going back. Horizons widened forever.
