Eagles

While I’m not Japanese, for a good portion of my life, I slept on a futon.  They are cheap and easy to move around.  But when I got married to Ex-Husband #1 (#49) we got a bed.  We had our choice of what kind of bed we wanted and it was an easy decision; one that you could tie someone to.

 

We had the kind of bed that had rungs on it, perfect for my fur covered handcuffs or rope.  While we usually took advantage of the headboard, Ex-Husband #1 liked to tie my feet as well.  One afternoon I was spread eagle on the bed and his face was spending a little quality time between my legs.  I was loving it when suddenly there was a pounding on our door.  He got up, put on his boxers, wiped his mouth and went to answer it.  It was the super and apparently someone had set off their smoke alarm and we had to evacuate the building.

 

So #49 did.  Alone.  He left me there, tied to the bed.  I couldn’t even yell or anything, with the scarf that he had put in my mouth.   Luckily the smoke was coming from the first floor and the firemen didn’t have to come up the five flights of stairs to find me in that compromising situation.  When Ex-Husband #1 came back upstairs 20 minutes later, I was pissed.  And I needed to pee.  But before he’d untie me, he had to fuck me again.  It was good so I forgave him.

 

Moral of the story, always have an escape plan.