A Five on the Die

San Francisco, beautiful from the air at night as all cities are beautiful from the air at night - maybe even Dallas from a DC-3, although that seems like poetic license. Quickly enough, the anonymity of the clouds and nothing more to see. I like anonymity - so why am I posting erotica?

Sometimes you have to throw long, just to see what happens.

Sleeping in uncomfortable chairs is a skill for subs and soldiers. I drifted off, the hum of the engines soothing a tired mind and body. Remembering.

"I want to tie you up." she had said as I came off the field late in the half, muddy and scratched and flushed with the anticipation of victory.

"Uh, sure! Great!"

"Now."

I eyed my teammates and opponents on the sideline, focused on the game. The defense was in, the game was in hand, nobody was watching us, this was San Francisco where maybe anything goes, but even so. Now? "How about when we get back to your place?"

She wrapped her arms around me, I feel the pinch, my fogged brain hears the clicking of thumb-cuffs, ratcheting tight, fastening my hands behind my back. "Keys are at home," she whispered, nibbling my earlobe and giving both my nipples a hard pinch under my shirt. Then she jogged back to her own team. Holy shit.

General hilarity when they called me in for the last point.

So here we were in the bedroom, still her bedroom, still her bed, regardless of the number of times we had shared it. The bed was old-fashioned, wooden and heavy, with four sturdy wooden posts rising from the corners. It had been a clue for me when we were first dating, a time when we circled each other and our mutual interests like fencers in an Errol Flynn swashbuckler. I had been discreet; she had been subtle - but we knew.

She had taken the cuffs off, reluctantly, so I could drive my rental car - well, she wasn't listed as a driver, was she? In retrospect, very amusing. But it probably sealed my doom.

I undressed, watching her watch me. Shoes, socks, watch. "Slowly" she said. Shirt, pants. "Let me,", she said, softly. Underwear. Off. It's hard to be naked with her fully dressed; slowly running her hands across my skin, my neck, my hands, my calves and thighs. Psychology, timing, mood is the essence of the event. She patted my ass, gently. "Lie down."

I lay on my back, on the wide bed, my legs instinctively stretching a bit for the far posts. Muscle memory? No wonder I'd lost a step on defense - my legs didn't know how to move anymore. I pictured using that as an excuse with my teammates. She reappeared from beneath the bed with a cloth bag, jingling suggestively. "Turn over" she said.

Turn over? My mind imagined and discarded possibilities with the speed of lust. She had never tied me face down to her bed. Obviously, she intended...

"Come on, over. Now be still." She fastened the leather cuff firmly around my left wrist, and looped the doubled rope end through the buckle and tied it snugly to the corner bedpost. Next, my right wrist - the cuff fastened one notch wider up the stronger wrist, my throwing hand, one notch from the end. The cuffs fit her, too, in theory and in different slots - the situation had not yet arisen where I had seen them on her.

Someday, perhaps. I'm listed as a switch. It's a lie.

I grunted involuntarily as she pulled the rope taut and fastened it to the other bedpost. My arms are long, but not long enough to reach the corners of a king-sized bed from the center. She moved around to my legs. "Hmm, your legs are your nicest feature." she said, running her hands down my calves.

"Why don't we -"

"I think I'll just stretch them a little for you." She giggled - I guess anything seems funny when you're turned on. The leather cuffs closed around my ankles, and I peered back over my shoulder to watch her yank me (ow!) taut on the bed. At least she ties neat knots; if I'm going to be stretched out like this, I'd at least hope that it looks good...

She sighed, and moved around to sit on the bed next to my bound left arm. I looked up at her, and she tousled my brown hair. "You do look cute, dear." I did my best appear cute, which in this case was limited to a slight wiggle of my hips and a come-hither smile.

"I think that you look good enough to fuck."

"Um."

She laughed, running her hands down my side "Did you suddenly get shy? I've got you where I want you, and I'm not going to let you go until you please me. Several times...."

"Several? I could be here for weeks!"

IHer batteries take as long to recharge as a guy. I can come 3 times in two hours, if pushed. Her? Not likely.

Out comes the riding crop. Smack. "Huh. Well, we'll make it fair. I'll roll a die, and that will tell us how many times you must please me before I let you come, or go..?"

"No, that could be a large, theoretically unreachable number. Like two" Slap! "Or one..." I grinned. Smack! Smack! Smack!! Playing with fire, tugging on Superman's cape, spitting into the wind, and messing with Leroy Brown.

She produced a six-sided die. At least it wasn't a D&D 20-sider, which she certainly has. She grabbed my hair, a tad roughly, and forced my head up. "Ready to play, dear? You do like to gamble, now don't you?"

"I like to win"

"Me too."

She dropped the die, white with black spots on the white sheet in front of my nose. It bounced once, and settled.

A one.

"You Princeton guys are into challenges, right?" She picked it up and rolled it again. A five.

"Yay!"

I tried to calculate where on the graph the curve of my endurance in bondage could cross the line of her capacity for pleasure...insufficient data.

She laughed, girlishly. "Oh, I forgot to mention....it has to be five different ways."

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A Five on the Die

All rights reserved 1992

Adric Gerard