Bound Tease: Blindfolded Wife in Yoliza Garter Harness

Grant stood barefoot on the bedroom rug, thirty-two and already hard under his open shirt, watching his wife hold still in the lamplight. Annika was twenty-nine, and she had dressed exactly as he had asked. The black Yoliza garter harness framed her breasts and left her pussy bare, glossy straps hugging the undersides of her tits and cutting neat lines over her hips. Towering stilettos lifted her, calves tight, weight balanced on the narrow heels. A thick blindfold covered her eyes completely. Soft rope held her wrists secure at her sides so her hands could twitch and clench and do nothing else.

She was trembling already. The blindfold made the room huge. Grant circled her slowly, letting his footsteps tell her where he was, and kept his voice low.

"You're going to stand there and take every second of this," he said. "I've been thinking all day about how long I can keep you on the edge. No relief until I decide you've earned it. You remember the word."

"Yes," Annika breathed. Her throat worked. "I want it. All of it. Please don't rush."

He smiled, though she couldn't see. The harness straps caught the light each time she shifted. Her nipples were tight and dark against the black webbing. A faint sheen of arousal already glossed the inner curves of her thighs. Her bound hands flexed against the rope, palms turned uselessly inward, fingers curling around nothing.

"Good," Grant murmured, completing another slow circle. He stopped close enough that she felt the heat of him and not his hands. "Then we start the way I promised. Slow. Mean. You don't get to come until I've made you beg for it twice."

Annika's breath hitched. She stood straighter in the stilettos, chin lifted, offering the long line of her throat and the framed swell of her chest. The bedroom smelled of clean sheets and the warm skin under her perfume. Grant leaned in behind her, mouth near her ear, and did not touch her yet.

"Count the minutes if you want," he said. "It won't help. I'm going to tease you until those pretty legs shake and you forget how to ask for anything except my mouth."

She made a small sound, half laugh and half plea, and the ropes creaked when she tested them. Grant watched the harness shift over her ribs. He had all night, and he intended to use it.

He started with his fingertips and nothing else. One hand settled lightly on the strap that crossed her collarbone, tracing the smooth black line down between her breasts without quite brushing skin. Annika went very still. Grant walked the touch along the under-bust band, then up, and only then let the pads of his fingers graze a nipple. The touch was barely there. Her breath broke anyway.

"Sensitive," he said, pleased. He circled the nipple once, slow, then left it aching and moved to the other. "You wore this so I could play with every strap and ignore the place you want me most. That was the deal."

"I know." Her voice had gone thin. "Grant. Please."

"Not yet."

He dragged a fingertip down the garter line over her left hip, following the strap to the band high on her thigh, then lower, along the taut length of her leg to the top of the stiletto. He did the same on the other side. Cool air moved over her bare pussy each time he passed close and refused to touch. Annika's thighs tensed. A drop of wetness gathered at her entrance and slid, slow and hot, toward the inside of her knee. Grant watched it and did not wipe it away.

He came back to her breasts. This time he used both hands, thumbs stroking the edges of her nipples through nothing but air and then, suddenly, pinching just hard enough to make her gasp. The harness creaked when she arched. Her bound wrists jerked at her sides, the rope holding her open and helpless, and the sound she made was ragged.

"Look at you," he said, though she couldn't. "Standing there dripping, hands tied, heels planted, and I haven't even kissed you. You want my fingers. You want my tongue. You're going to get neither until I say."

"I'm aching," Annika whispered. "God, I'm aching. Touch me. Just once."

"Beg softer."

She did. The words came out broken and sweet, please and please and I need it, while Grant traced the garter straps again and again, brushing the tender skin just beside her pussy and never landing. He cupped the undersides of her breasts through the harness, lifted them, let them settle. He kissed the side of her neck and bit lightly, then soothed the mark with his tongue. Her breathing turned uneven. Her hips tipped forward, searching, and found only air.

Grant dropped to his knees in front of her.

The carpet was warm under him. From down here the stilettos looked severe, her thighs taut, the Yoliza straps framing the wet, swollen center of her. He set his hands on her calves and slid upward, slow, until his palms rested on the outsides of her thighs. He pressed gently. She understood and stepped wider, heels scraping, balance delicate and perfect.

"Stay open," he said.

Then he leaned in and licked her with one torturously light stroke, from the base of her slit up to her clit and no harder than a breath. Annika cried out. Her bound hands twitched uselessly at her sides. Grant did it again, just as light, tasting salt and heat and the slick proof of how long he had made her wait. He avoided her clit on the third pass. On the fourth he flicked it once and pulled away to mouth the soft skin of her inner thigh instead.

"Grant—"

"Higher," he said, and licked her again, slow and shallow, barely parting her folds. "I want you desperate. I want you shaking before I let you come on my tongue."

He kept the pace cruel. Light strokes. A pause to breathe against her. A kiss to the harness strap where it met her hip. Another lick, a little firmer, gathering her wetness and spreading it, then back to almost nothing. Annika's thighs trembled around his head. Her stilettos rocked. She begged in a continuous soft stream, please, please, I can't, I need your mouth, don't stop, don't tease, and Grant only smiled against her and went lighter still, until she was sobbing with want and dripping down his chin.

He ate her then with focused, hungry devotion, and he did not rush the change. One moment the licks were still teasing, the next his mouth sealed over her and his tongue pushed deep, flat and sure, tasting all of her. Annika's cry cracked in the quiet bedroom. Her knees nearly buckled. Grant caught her hips in both hands, thumbs hooked under the garter straps, and held her upright while he worked.

"Stay on your feet," he said against her, voice rough. "I want you standing when you come. Blindfold on. Hands tied. Just like this."

She nodded, frantic, and locked her legs. The stilettos bit into the rug. Grant spread her wider with his grip and licked into her pussy in long, thorough strokes, fucking her with his tongue, then dragging up to circle her clit until her whole body jolted. She was soaked. Every pass of his mouth made a soft, wet sound. He sucked her clit gently, released it, licked lower, and came back harder. Her bound hands opened and closed at her sides. The rope creaked. The harness straps pulled tight across her ribs as she arched, breasts lifting, nipples tight in the cool air she couldn't see.

"Oh—oh, God, right there," she gasped. "Don't stop. Please don't stop. I'm so close."

He didn't stop. He pressed his face in and ate her like he had been starving for it, tongue relentless, lips sealed around her clit, one hand sliding down so two fingers could push inside her and curl. She clenched around him immediately, hot and fluttering. Grant groaned into her and fucked her with those fingers in a slow, deep rhythm while his tongue stayed busy, flicking, sucking, stroking the swollen bud until her thighs shook hard around his head.

"Come," he ordered, muffled against her. "Come on my tongue. Give it to me."

Annika broke. The orgasm hit her standing, blindfolded and bound, and she came with a raw, helpless cry, pussy pulsing around his fingers, wetness flooding his mouth. Her stilettos skidded. Grant held her up and kept licking, gentler now but still hungry, drawing the climax out until she was whimpering and trying to twist away from too much sensation. He kissed her clit once, soft, and eased his fingers free. They shone. He licked them clean while she trembled above him, chest heaving, harness straps rising and falling with every breath.

"Beautiful," he said. "We're not done."

He rose, kissed her mouth so she could taste herself, and turned her carefully toward the bed. She went where he guided her, trusting him completely, heels clicking once on the hardwood before the rug took them again. At the edge of the mattress he bent her forward. Her bound hands couldn't catch her. She folded over the bed on her forearms as best she could, cheek to the sheet, ass lifted, the Yoliza harness framing her from behind. The blindfold stayed on. The stilettos stayed on. Her pussy glistened, swollen and open, still fluttering from the orgasm he had pulled out of her.

Grant stripped his shirt and shoved his pants down. His cock was thick and aching, the head already wet. He ran it along her slit, coating himself, and felt her push back with a desperate little sound.

"Yes," she said. "Fuck me. Please. I need you inside. Hard. I want it."

"You have it."

He pushed in slowly at first, one long, powerful stroke that opened her all the way and seated him deep. Annika moaned into the sheets, the sound broken and grateful. The harness straps creaked as her body took him. He held her hips, thumbs stroking the garter lines, and drew back almost to the tip before driving in again, just as deep, just as controlled. The pace was deliberate. Each thrust rocked her forward on the mattress and dragged a fresh sound out of her throat. Her bound wrists flexed uselessly against her sides. The blindfold kept her in the dark, so every inch of him felt enormous.

"God, you're tight," Grant said, voice strained. "So wet from my mouth. You feel that? Every stroke. I'm going to fuck you until you come again with my cock buried in you."

"Yes—yes—don't hold back—"

He didn't, not for long. The slow rhythm gave way to something rougher. His hips snapped forward, skin meeting skin, the wet sound of it filling the room. The bed frame knocked softly against the wall. Annika pushed back to meet him, stilettos braced, ass tilting higher, taking him deeper. The harness bit into her in the best way, straps tugging with every thrust, framing the place where he disappeared into her. Grant reached around and found her clit, slick and sensitive, and rubbed in tight circles while he fucked her.

She sobbed his name. Her second orgasm built fast, sharper than the first, her pussy gripping him in rhythmic pulses that made his vision blur. He kept the rough pace, long strokes turning shorter and harder, driving into her until the harness creaked and her thighs shook and she came again with a broken cry, clenching so tight around him he had to grit his teeth to keep from following her immediately.

"That's it," he groaned. "Milk me. Take it."

He fucked her through it, relentless, one hand on her clit and the other gripping a harness strap at her hip for leverage. Annika pushed back, greedy even while she shook, moaning that she wanted all of him, wanted him to come inside her, wanted to feel it. The permission undid him. Grant slammed deep and stayed there, cock pulsing, spilling into her in thick, hot pulses while she whimpered and ground back against him, drawing out every drop. His orgasm rolled through him hard enough to make his knees weak. He bent over her back, breathing against the blindfold, both of them wrecked and still joined, the room full of their ragged breath and the faint creak of settling straps.

When he could move, he eased out of her slowly. She made a soft, lost sound at the loss. Their combined wetness slid down her thigh. Grant stroked her spine once, then worked the knots at her wrists with careful fingers until the soft rope fell away. He lifted the thick blindfold next and let it drop to the bed.

Annika blinked in the lamplight, eyes dark and bright, hair mussed, lips parted. For a second she only looked at him, chest still heaving inside the Yoliza harness, stilettos still on, thighs shining. Then the still-breathless wife dropped to her knees on the rug.

She looked up at him with wicked eyes, wrapped one newly freed hand around the base of his spent cock, and took him into her mouth. The heat of her was shocking. She sucked him clean with eager, filthy devotion, tongue swirling, lips sliding, licking their combined juices from every inch while soft sounds of pleasure hummed in her throat. Her other hand slipped between her own thighs. Grant watched, stunned and already stirring again, as she fingered herself in time with the bob of her head, two fingers working her sensitive pussy, chasing another crest while she worshipped him.

She pulled off just long enough to lick a slow stripe up his length, eyes locked on his, and smiled like she had won something.

"Think you can get hard again if I keep this up," she asked, voice hoarse and daring, "or do I have to beg you for a second round?"