It was late when I got home so just a welcome home quicky and then a good night’s sleep. The next night, we met our moving crew for a thank you dinner. So, it turned out to be several days of thinking about the ceiling hooks before Saturday morning when we could have a real discussion about what we could do with them.
“I don’t know. Tie my hands up to the hooks with some kind of cord?” I was horny and being creative was never my strong point anyway.
“Maybe.” He smiled at me. “But what if you were a single woman crossing the ocean and your ship was attacked by pirates?”
That’s why I’m never going to try competing with him on being creative. “Go on. What happens to me next?”
“Well, the pirates board the ship and they decide to take you prisoner.”
“Well sure. I figured something like that might happen. But then what happens?”
“Well, you’re not real cooperative and you refuse the pirate captain’s advances.”
“That must make him mad.”
“It does. He decides to teach you a lesson so he has his crew tie you do a spar and…”
“A spar?” I don’t really have a lot of knowledge about pirate ships. Or really any ships.
“I don’t know. Whatever they call the thing that comes from the mast.”
Okay, I’m tied to the spar or whatever it is.”
“Yeah. They tear your top off.”
“Ooooh.”
“And the captain whips you front and back.
“Ooooh. How many times does he whip me?”
“I’m thinking 50 on your back and 25 on your front. What do you think?”
“Since this is the first time we’re trying this, I think that may be too much.”
“Okay. How about 25 on your back and 10 on your front? Better?”
I’m thinking ouch and what the hell am I getting into. “I think that sounds perfect.”
“Then, when he’s done, you decide that you love him and you give in to what he wants.”
“Better than walking the plank, I guess.”
“A lot better.”
Before moving, I had finally taken the boxes of my old clothes to the thrift shop but fortunately, not all of them. I changed and put on jeans. I took off my bra and then put on an older blouse that I didn’t plan to wear to work anymore. Actually, based on Rob’s scenario, I’m not planning to be able to wear it at all after today.
I buttoned it all the way up to my throat and tucked it into my pants. Rob was wearing a pair of jeans and a denim work shirt. He looked to me like a pirate and I hoped that I looked like his image of a girl-prisoner. We decided we’d have lunch first so we could have all afternoon to play.
We made sandwiches and carried them to the new patio furniture in our new backyard. As I sat at the table, I could feel my erect nipples rubbing on the soft material of my soon to be destroyed blouse.
We ate lunch, pretending that neither of us was in effect, wearing a costume, that I wasn’t going to get whipped with the leather belt, and that we weren’t going to have mind-blowing sex after that. We did have some relevant conversation, including that he would only hit me on my upper back to not take the risk of hitting my kidneys. Always safe, sane and consensual.
We finished lunch and, delaying what was going to happen, we did the dishes and put everything away. Then, it was time.
Rob had found some light rope left over from tying down stuff in the borrowed pickup during our move. He spun me around and looped a length of the cord around my wrists, then walked me to the ceiling hooks. I stood there as he connected a short length of cord to each hook. He removed the restraints from my wrists and quickly tied one of my wrists with the cord hanging from a hook. Quickly, he tied the other arm to the other hook. I pulled against it and discovered that a previous resident of our house had installed the hooks solidly to the beam, leaving me unable to pull away.
Rob circled me a couple of times, just looking. If he looked closely, and I’m pretty sure that he did, he’d have seen my nipples poking against the material. The blouse was thin enough that I would never have worn it out braless and the reason for that was now pretty obvious.
Standing in front of me, Rob grabbed hold of the front of my blouse, right above my boobs. He put his fingers into the opening that he had created and then he pulled it apart. The material held briefly but one button snapped off and went flying across the room. He stood back and admired his work then reached into the now gaping front and pulled harder. The top button, above the previous one pulled off and my blouse was now yawning from my neckline down to the middle of my chest. From my angle, I wasn’t able to see but I assumed that someone taller than me would be able to see my cleavage. Rob is taller than me and I could see him enjoying the view that he had created.
Evidently, it wasn’t enough to satisfy my pirate captor. He grabbed the front of the blouse again, lower this time, and when he yanked it, two more buttons tore from it and I heard the material tearing with them. My bared breasts were now going to be visible to anyone looking at me. Only one button, tucked into my pants, still held the blouse closed to any extent.
But not for long. He grabbed the lower part and pulled it out, then separated the final button. The blouse was still draped over my boobs but was open enough to provide access. He took advantage of this access, reaching in and grabbing me there.
It’s no secret that Rob appreciates nice boobs. Okay, probably any boobs. He likes them generally so it’s not unusual that I catch him noticing a woman whose chest is on display. I don’t worry about his looking since I know he particularly likes mine or at least I think he does. He touches them a lot and during sex, I know that his hands and his lips will be on them. I love how he plays with them and his gentleness in his touch and his kissing me there.
Not now though. When I said he grabbed me, I meant he grabbed one boob in each hand and he squeezed them painfully. It wasn’t excruciating pain but it wasn’t’ comfortable either. I think part of this was that it contrasted with his normal gentleness and it wasn’t expected. Thinking about how a pirate might treat a captive, the surprise should have been that I wasn’t expecting it.
After fondling the whole breast roughly, he focused on my nipples. They’re another common target for his fingers and lips but he’s never squeezed them the way he is now. I yelp but I don’t come close to using my safe word yet. No one has ever put nipple clamps on me before and I wonder if this is what they would feel like. If so, then no thank you.
Finally, he let go and lifted a large kitchen knife from the table where he had placed it earlier. His first slices were to the wrists of the blouse, below where each arm is tied upward. He cut up a couple of inches on each arm and, after returning the knife to the table, he grabbed the material covering my left arm and tore it from the wrist to the shoulder. He repeated this on the other arm but his attempt to pull the arms off of the blouse failed. Instead, he used the knife to cut the arms the rest of the way to the neckline.
My now destroyed blouse had nothing holding the front halves on and one pull on each part made it fall apart, leaving my breasts fully exposed. The back was still tucked into my pants so when it fell, it hung there until he yanked it out and dropped it.
Standing topless in the middle of the living room, I became aware of how aroused I was getting. Besides my erect nipples, I felt a heaviness in my mid-section and I was starting to breathe faster. I assumed that he was also finding this arousing but my captor was apparently willing to wait to satisfy his lust. I, of course, had no say about when he will do this and what he will do to me when he’s ready.
It’s not his lust that the pirate is thinking about now. It’s his plan to punish me for turning him down in the first place. The belt was placed on the table before we started so it’s visible to me and easily accessible to him. He picked it up and played with it, snapping it and swinging it through the air in front of me. If his intent was to make me concentrate on what it will feel like when he turns his attention to me, it worked.
I didn’t have too long to wait. He walked around me again. The belt was doubled up and he swung it around but not even close to striking me yet. Finally, he was standing behind me and without warning, I felt it strike my upper back and I reacted with a yelp.
I like how the belt is a compromise between the purely stingy feeling I get from my metal ruler and the hard thuddy feel of the hairbrush or the wooden kitchen spoon. I don’t feel like a lash with the belt is going to do any damage to my muscles or but it’s heavy enough that I know I’ve been hit and, I don’t know why, buy I like how that feeling lasts.
He swung it again, apparently with the belt fully extended and I felt it on the other side of my upper back. Without any pause, he struck me three more times, with each one hitting my back but aimed at a different contact point. I wasn’t extremely sore although I knew that’s going to be coming with the cumulative effect of the pirate’s whipping. So far, my back felt like a mild heat developing where the belt has hit me. Lower than my back, I felt a strong heat developing in my pelvis as my arousal jumped and I started to get lubricated.
My captor was ready to increase the intensity of my punishment. He folded the belt, tripling it up so that each hit would be heavier. This also gave him better control and he used it to give five strikes in a row on the left side of my upper back with each one placed directly below the previous one.
Evidently, he liked something about this since he repeated the pattern on the right side of my back. The strokes woke up my back and with each lash of the belt, I now felt it throbbing. I only wished that I could actually see where he’s hit me so I could see how red he was making me.
He stepped back and I correctly assumed that he was returning to using the full length of the belt. The lash came down and it struck me just to the right of midline. But, it wasn’t the end of the belt that hit so the rest of it continued its swing and struck separately wrapping around my body to my side. With my arms tied up to the ceiling, the entire side of my body from my underarm to my hip was available to him. He moved his aim down so that the next strike was right below the previous one and he did that one more time.
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