the chair and the swing

by Sophie

Jamie has an eye for hidden function. He sees an interesting tool or piece of furniture out in the wild, at garage sales or retail outlets, and his mind almost immediately goes to the different ways in which those items could be used in the bedroom. He takes great joy in finding kinky purposes for innocuous things, using the playful imagination with which he constantly surprises me. Even a year into our acquaintance I still am left anticipating exactly what we will do once we get naked. Our sex is never, ever boring.

A few weeks ago Jamie brought home a nylon sex “swing” – or restraint? – from a sweet little locally owned toy store. I have to admit a bit of nervousness when I first saw it set up against his bedroom door. It’s a few straps of strong nylon with anchors that keep the straps hanging securely from the door jamb. At the ends of the straps are padded loops for wrists and ankles, the idea being that a person can be suspended, reliably, spread-eagle for whatever purposes the other partner has in mind.

I am an average American woman – that is to say, carrying some extra weight. Not too much, I don’t even think I fit the definition of “BBW,” but enough to cause a bit of alarm at the idea of being hung in the air by what look a little bit like dog leashes. Jamie sheepishly asked me how much I weighed, a question that honestly amused me more than anything, and was happy to hear it was far below the limit suggested by the toy manufacturer. I was also quite relieved.

Jamie is naturally dominant, sexually speaking. That is to say, he doesn’t require props or stunts to exert his control over my body. He just does. It’s in the way he firmly holds my waist and opens my legs, the way he gently tells me how well I am pleasing him when he pushes plugs into my ass – he’s a benign and loving but serious “master,” not that we use the formal terminology.

This dynamic works for me. I am in control of everything else in my life. In bed I’d rather surrender. When I walked into his bedroom one evening to see the suspension device hooked over his door my heart skipped a beat. My panties immediately dampened as I imagined being rendered utterly helpless as he had his multiple ways with me. Our foreplay that evening was definitely a little abbreviated as we were both excited to get down to business.

Of course, both of us being novices in the realm of specific sex furniture, we experienced a bit of a learning curve. After a few minutes of what I like to think of as “warm-up fucking,” we moved from the bed to the door. Jamie could definitely sense my nervousness and I think that aroused him even more. His eyes lit up as he helped me slide my arms and legs into the loops, his erection so prominent it was bouncing slightly with his pulse.

We realized very quickly that there were several issues that needed to be addressed. First of all, I wasn’t far enough off the ground for him to fuck me, even with my legs spread wide – he simply had to crouch too much to move effectively. Secondly, I was supporting myself almost entirely with my forearms and wrists, which fatigued my shoulder and back muscles quite quickly. We played with strap length and angles for a few minutes and kind-of sort-of fucked awkwardly as we sussed out the issues.

Even as we faced what was turning out to be a failure we were having fun, laughing and joking about our predicament. It just so happens that a sense of humor is possibly the most important tool to have while setting up sex furniture. It’s the emotional equivalent of an Allen wrench. We retreated to the bed to continue our fun and afterward, lying in tangled, dampened sheets, Jamie mused:

“I think we need a chair.”

A short two weeks later, The Chair entered the bedroom.

The Chair is a black barstool, about four and a half feet tall, sturdy and wide-seated. The hilariously cheesy packaging for the sex straps featured a lingerie-clad model with her legs spread invitingly wide. Jamie had noticed after some study that she seemed to be sitting on a surface that was no longer in the picture, perfectly edited out. When he pointed it out to me I realized that her positioning was almost physically impossible without a bodybuilder’s upper body physique. Well, that explains the second-day soreness in my shoulders, I thought to myself. After realizing the deception in advertising, Jamie turned his eye for sexual improvisation to different types of chairs. One day, at a thrift store, he found The Chair.

I noticed it when I walked into his bedroom after he bought it. Jamie noticed me noticing it and smiled his mischievous smile. It was obvious he couldn’t wait to use it, but he had foreplay plans for us that evening. That night he took his time undressing me, running his fingers over every inch of my flesh, causing me to shiver under his hands. He pushed me down onto the bed, onto my hands and knees, and met no resistance as he slid into me from behind. I was so excited I didn’t feel him dripping lube onto my ass until he pressed his finger into my second hole ever so slowly. The parallel pleasure of his finger and his cock filled me so intensely I couldn’t even protest, not that I would have. “No” doesn’t mean “no” in these cases, but our safeword didn’t even come to mind. I was awash in the rawest bliss. The ecstasy escalated when he introduced the “small toy” – a short pink butt plug with little bumps in it that he delights in working into me while he fucks me. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered into my ear as I soaked his cock with my excitement. “It’s all the way in, you’ve taken all of it, you’re doing so well.”

I was doing so, so well. So well in fact that I came with a cry and a convulsion right after his hot breath carried his words across my ear and over my neck. That was the first of what would be many, many orgasms. His cock pulsed, hard in my velvet softness, and he slowed as to delay his own gratification. Besides, we had yet to utilize The Chair.

Jamie slowly pulled the plug out of my ass and I sighed with disappointment.  His lips passed over my neck and shoulders, an affectionate gesture, and he grabbed my hand to lead me the short distance to our new piece of furniture now sitting under the straps that were anchored behind the closet door. My arousal dampened my thighs and clung to my lips as he helped me settle into the seat, wetness underneath me as he again slid the loops over my ankles, pulling the straps up to my knees. The softness of the loops crushed under my fingers as I grabbed the arm straps for support and leaned back.

Jamie stood back for a moment, admiring his handiwork. My pussy was on full display for him, my legs splayed perfectly like the woman on the packaging. I have never felt as exposed as I did at that moment, my cunt hot against the cool wood of the chair, unable to move in any way besides leaning back or forward. Jamie’s cock bounced passionately yet again and he reached down to stroke it for a moment, showing off for me, torturing me. “Please please fuck me,” I remember begging him. He smiled and moved in, guiding himself into me, and I almost came from the pleasure that came with that moment of completeness.

Fireworks exploded beneath my closed eyelids as my body strained involuntarily, helplessly, to meet his. I was so perfectly restrained and spread for him and left unable to do anything but accept what he wanted to do to me. When I finally opened my eyes I discovered his body was also on display for me in a way I am not used to seeing. I was able to really see him work, in the ways he always does, only this time with a whole new perspective. I could watch the muscles under his skin flex with every thrust, his hips slamming into me. Looking down I could glimpse the shaft of his cock, wet with my come, rigid and perfect. I have always found Jamie attractive, but this amount of exposure was almost vulgar. Almost. God, I love looking at this man, I found myself thinking before thoughts washed away with yet another shaking orgasm that left my back arched, nipples hard, breath lost.

Jamie fucked me forcefully for what felt like an hour as spasms of euphoria ripped through me. My body went slack as orgasm after orgasm swelled and subsided. Jamie cradled the back of my head with one hand as our lips met with bruising pressure, over and over again. Finally he pulled back and slammed into me one last time and I heard the sweet husky moan that always precedes his climax. He pressed himself as close to me as he could possibly get, his arms tucked under my widespread legs, hands on my ass, cock thrumming as he came and came and came. After what seemed like an eternity he gently pulled out of me and immediately began untethering me. I noticed for the first time that my fingers were sore from grasping the straps so tightly. The world came back into focus and it was as if I were seeing his bedroom for the first time. Sweat covered his nakedness and glistened in the dim light.

I am not accustomed to restraint, physical or emotional or verbal. It’s difficult for me to give up control to someone else. Jamie makes it simple by creatively taking what he wants without apology or preamble. Giving myself up to him is exciting because he makes it exciting. The Chair and The Swing were such a success that now Jamie is working on modifying his bed. It will become The Bed. He has been cutting wood and gathering fasteners. He is making it taller, to make room for storage underneath. This will be where our sex toys and accessories live. He is also adding some functionally decorative pieces to the headboard. On The Bed he will continue to teach me how to more perfectly surrender to him. Ultimately, he is building a bed to more thoroughly bed me, and this excites me endlessly.

What can I say? I like a guy who works with his hands.