Image by the brilliant Stuart F Taylor

I’m kind of obsessed with door cuffs at the moment. Simple velcro handcuffs that come attached to short metal poles, which you use by hooking them over the door. They mean you can effectively tie someone’s wrists up high while you tease them, and my partner uses them to make me beg for it.

First he strips me down to my knickers – when I’m strapped to the door cuffs it’s hard to remove clothes, so much better to get the clothes off first. Then he pushes me back against the door, so I can feel the cold wood on my back, and he straps my wrists in just tight enough that I can feel the fabric pulling against my skin.

Then he begins the process of making me beg for it.

Kisses first: always kisses. That’s how he likes to begin. Even though I’m already wriggling a bit against my bonds and desperate for him to run his hands down to my crotch, he begins with kisses.

Biting my neck gently, touching my nipples with gentle fingertips, stroking the powder-softness of my skin as I stand exposed for him.

I like the way my tits feel when my wrists are restrained above me. Firmer, rounder, cold and naked and hard… when he drops his head slightly to suck on one of my nipples I let out a little whimper, and spread my legs further apart – pushing my crotch towards him and arching my back.

He grins. He moves to the other nipple – biting, sucking, teasing.

And I struggle against my bonds, not yet quite ready to beg for it.

He stands in the same position he stood in when he started – a little further away from me than I would like. I can see his erection straining against his pants, and I push my crotch forward to try and meet it, rubbing up against him like I’m in heat. Trying to angle his dick just right so I can feel the firm pressure of it on my clit through my knickers.

As he teases and plays with me, I rub against him, letting wetness seep through my crotch and onto his. I look at him with sad, desperate eyes and plead with him silently: just a bit more, please. I want your cock. I want you.

And when he’s ready he’ll let me touch him properly. My hands are still confined by the door cuffs, but he’ll hook both thumbs into the waistband of my knickers and strip them down to the floor. As I kick them off I spread my legs wider and shove my crotch harder into his.

And I’m almost ready to beg for it.

He likes to touch my flesh. He doesn’t like to rush things like I do. While I’m greedily yearning for quick fucks and his rock-solid cock and the intense pressure of his thumb on my clit, he’s squeezing my arse and running both hands up my back to where my shoulders are leaning against the door, breathing in the scent of me and enjoying the way I try to wriggle towards him.

He likes it when I’m tied up, because it makes me slow down. And when he’s slow, it’s inevitable that at some point I’ll start to beg for it.

“Please…” I whisper into his ear as he leans in for another biting kiss. “Please fuck me.”

Sometimes he doesn’t: he’ll make me wait a little longer, until his dick is dripping with my wetness where I’ve rubbed it onto him, and until my ‘please’ is cracking with the weight of desperation.

But this time he does fuck me: straight away. No sooner are the words out of my mouth than he’s grabbed my hips and flipped me round, so my wrists are now crossed above my head where the door cuffs meet the crack at the top of the door.

“Arse out,” he orders, and I arch my back and push my bum out to meet him, leaning as far as I can towards his dick without pulling the muscles in my arms. That arched-back-bum-out gesture works exactly as well as my ‘please’ – a physical way to beg for it when my brain’s too horny to conjure words.

When he grabs me by my hips and starts fucking, it’s all I can do to stay on my toes. I bite my lip and shove myself back against him, greedy for his cock as I was before, and wanting more of it – all of it – inside me right now.

He tries to reach round and tease my clit but I can’t feel it through the fog of satisfaction that I got exactly what I wanted. I push his hand away and pull on the cuffs and shove myself back to meet his thrusts as hard as I physically can. Because I begged for it: his cock. And I want to make the most of it.

I don’t need to come, don’t want to come. I want the feeling of being filled up, and the rush of satisfaction as he squirts deep inside me.That’s what I was hoping for when I rubbed myself against him. That’s what I was after when I whimpered ‘pleasepleaseplease.’ Not for release, but for dick.

That’s what he’s making me beg for.