In the Name of Therapy

One thing Robert did well was anticipation.

He’d tie me spread-eagled on the bed, wearing nothing but a blindfold, and leave me there. Then he’d go do something else – clean the house or sometimes even leave to run errands. I’d lie there, getting more and more turned on just by being helpless. I’d hear the vacuum cleaner stop and his footsteps come down the hallway – and then nothing. I knew he was just standing in the doorway looking at me… and then I’d hear the zipper on his jeans and then – nothing… and I knew he’d be standing there, stroking himself, just watching me wriggle and beg. Then he’d go back to cleaning. He’d come back a few times, sometimes just watching, sometimes coming in to put on nipple clamps or slide in a dildo or two, sometimes climbing up on the bed to straddle my face and force himself into my mouth just a few times – and then always leaving. By the time a few hours had gone by I’d be begging him to end my agony every time I heard him come in, so turned on I couldn’t think straight. If he was pleased with me sometimes he’d fasten a vibrator to me and let me come, but even that was agony because he’d leave it there for like a half an hour and force me to come over and over again until my legs were cramping and I was dripping with sweat and begging to make it stop.

Sometimes he’d tie me fully dressed and cut off just what was in the way. He’d tie my wrists together over my head and hook them to the headboard and strap a wide leather belt around my waist. He’d put these wide fabric cuffs that fastened with velcro and had long straps around my ankles and tie the straps to the belt, which would keep my knees drawn up, and then tie another device, a broom handle that he’d drilled holes through either end and put ropes through, between my ankles to keep my legs spread. He’d wrap lengths of rope around my upper thighs. He’d made the nipples clamps from regular binder clips and glued soft rubber to them, and he’d use those and fasten them between my legs and then run string from the handles of the clips to the rope around my thighs to expose everything. When he did that he liked to use this enormous dildo on me. It was on the verge of too big to even fit inside me, and it would take like 10 or 15 minutes for him to work it in, even with lots of lube. After he finally got it in he’d lean over and lick me until I came, and then force it further in as I did.

He’d rarely fuck me while he was doing these things. That didn’t turn him on as much. He’d usually even stay fully dressed the whole time, though he’d usually have to undo his pants after a while because it would get too – uncomfortable. When he was done wearing me out he’d make me give him head or just rub himself on my body until he came on me. I think he actually got off more on fantasizing about other men taking me than doing it himself. He’d tell me the fantasies while he was working on me, usually. I hated it at the time. I felt so degenerate for enjoying what he was doing that I hated it even as I came screaming for the 4th or 5th or 10th time. I’m only just now being able to realize that it was *okay* to enjoy it!