Another round of Gerald's Game

One of my earliest posts was about our first experience with bondage. It was fun, but it isn't really Ron's thing, so I left it up to him to make the next move. It took a while, but he finally did so during the holidays. We had been watching one of the versions of A Christmas Carol that I had recorded, and we had just gotten to the scene where the clock strikes one when our clock struck four. That's the official time for a spanking in our home, and it takes some significant event to divert Ron from his routine. Certainly not a movie that we could pause and resume watching later.

So upstairs we went, and I slipped into the bathroom to freshen up first. When I emerged and walked into the bedroom, Ron announced, "You're in for a treat." I looked down at the bed where the implements had been laid out as usual. There was the long red shoehorn, a black leather strap, the dressage whip (oh, no!) and beside the strap was a pair of wrist restraints.

They're similar to the ones in this picture except that they are silver in colour. Very elegant, actually.

"Oh," I exclaimed. Not very original, but I was so surprised I couldn't think of anything else. I never dreamed he would have decided we needed a little bondage to spice up a spanking. What could have inspired him? Was it all the hype surrounding 50 Shades of Grey? I was sure he hadn't read it, but still...

"I found them at the bottom of the toy box," Ron explained. I refrained from telling him that's where he had put them when he had consolidated all our smaller implements. I had noticed them from time to time but never brought them to his attention. I laughed nervously. This was not our usual pattern, and I was unsure how to proceed.

"How do you want me?"

"Take your clothes off," and I did while Ron watched, holding the restraints. When I was completely undressed he held out one cuff. I extended my arm and he buckled it around my wrist.

"Is that too tight? Too bad." He certainly could be dominant when he wanted to be. I held out the other arm and he fastened the buckle on the second cuff.

When he had finished I held up both arms and examined them. From each wrist dangled a couple of carabiners and a double-headed snap fastener. I jiggled my arms and the hardware clanged.

 "Just like Jacob Marley," I teased. "Is that what gave you the idea?" That was the scene in the movie we had just watched. Ron denied it, but laughed and motioned me to lie down on the bed. I did so, and wondered what he would do next. Our bed looks very similar to the one below. In fact,  I chose the headboard specifically for its bondage possibilities.

Ron knelt on the bed beside me, grasped the hardware on the first cuff and struggled to attach it to one of the metal bars. The carabiner didn't fit around the metal bar; it was too small. How had we done it the first time? Had the bars expanded in the intervening years? He fussed and fiddled, and I was unable to help because after all, I had to hold my position.

After a lengthy battle that finally ended in success, I was firmly attached to the bed. I moved both my forearms as much as I could and shook them, making a metallic clang.

"I am the ghost of Christmas Past," I warbled. My silliness was cut short by the smack of the shoehorn against my bottom.

"Now we can begin." And he did. The shoehorn felt much worse than usual on my cold bottom. Maybe it was the position I was in, stretched out flat along the bed, or maybe it was the restraints. Whatever the reason, it was hard to lie still. I wiggled and tried to escape, but couldn't.

It was a relief when Ron put the implement down, but my delight turned to dismay when I heard the familiar swish, swish of the dressage whip as it sliced through the air. Why, oh why had he chosen that evil thing? If I had thought the previous implement was hard to take, this one was unbearable. I squealed and kicked, and Ron responded by lightening the impact but increasing the speed. It felt like a swarm of wasps had invaded our bedroom to have their evening meal, and I was dinner.

Finally, the whip was replaced by the black strap, and I welcomed its harsh caress. I sighed and lifted my bottom to meet it on its way down. All too soon those caresses were replaced by a different kind; Ron's hand rubbed my punished cheeks gently but firmly. Then there was another round of each implement, punctuated by more massages between each set. After a final salute with the strap, Ron pushed the implements aside, moved my legs apart, and began some detailed exploration of my nether regions. It was sheer bliss when he placed his cool body on top of my hot cheeks and had his way with me most delightfully.

After we had both been satisfied, Ron unbuckled the cuffs from my wrists. I began to examine the  way he had attached them to the bed.

" I hope I can get them off."

"Leave them there," was Ron's command. Leave them? That could only mean one thing - there was to be another round of Gerald's Game sometime soon.