"clit tying" By robblu (https://pastebin.com/u/robblu) URL: https://pastebin.com/QrPH1ddj Created on: Sunday 23rd of August 2015 09:48:05 PM CDT Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 03:43:56 AM UTC Anonymous - Clit Tying.rtf If anyone has data on who wrote this story or what it's title actually is, please email the moderators so that we can update it. The door shut with a solid thud followed by the lock being turned from the outside. I moved over to the other side of the couch to look around the gauzy curtain to see the parents get into their car and within moments they were out of the driveway. I turned and plopped back down facing the television with resignation as there was hardly the slightest exciting thing on tonight. Basic cable! Who only has basic cable these days, I thought to myself. Getting roped into this housesitting deal was almost incomprehensible still. They had a son coming home sometime tomorrow but had also had a previous early morning appointment set up for a refitting of the heating system before the winter and rather than risk rescheduling or having their son actually come home a day early, I found myself sitting opposite Heather over drinks earlier this week and somehow I volunteered to come over to be here for the appointment. Not that I had a whole lot else going on tonight. It isn't that I'm really that lame of a 23 year old but its one of those really quiet dead weekends around a Monday holiday. So rather than come over the 40 minute drive in the morning for the very early appointment, Heather suggested I just stay over after dinner. Well the cable stinks perhaps, but the dinner and the wine was delicious, as it always is with them. And to top off the spoiled-factor, they told me to feel free to have some more wine from their moderately expensive selection. Already onto a second bottle that was more than half polished off by me alone, I had hoped that something on network television might be intriguing. Even good wine can't make some things enticing. Being bored is not a good state for me. It gets my mind thinking a bit wildy at times. One time when I was bored in New Jersey during a particularly lonely assignment from work and many nights in hotels and such, I found myself in a very odd situation of letting some online chat banter to actually get me to do some things to myself. That isn't something to get into just now, but suffice to say boredom leads to entertainment but not always well thought out entertainment. This leads me to about the hour before midnight when a third bottle of wine had been mostly intruded upon and I was perhaps a bit more punch-drunk tired than was wise since I did have that early appointment to be up for the next day. Television had been written off as mostly a lost cause and having found a not so cleverly hidden pile of naughty magazines that Brian, or possibly both Brian and Heather, had laying at the bottom of a closet that was mostly ajar, I was well into enjoying myself a second time. Being a conscientious friend I wasn't doing such things on their bed or the couch. Sorry to burst any bubbles being made there but I felt that the bathroom was plenty nice enough place to do so. It was after a third orgasm and feeling tired yet still horny that one of the models in the magazine stood out to me due to a large clitoris that seemed prominent in many of her spreads. I parted my lips and pulled upward some to expose mine which comparatively seemed small but was moderate sized as well. Swollen from all the play and blood, my clit was as dark engorged as it ever was but still wasn't quite what the woman in the magazine had. But paying more attention to mine than ever in the past I got to wondering if I could perhaps make it appear larger. In the past I had used rubber bands on my breasts and although they didn't really get larger, the look was larger. But the size of a rubber band against my clit was not very likely. Then my eyes fell on the cabinet and glanced inside to see what might work. Dental floss! Carefully I spun the floss around the base of my clit as best I could taking many tries just to get it secured and started. After the third time the floss snapped from trying to tighten to make my clit get the same affect my breasts did, I was becoming sadly resigned that maybe this idea just wasn't going to work. And my tiredness and the wine was really getting to me. Heading into the guest room for bed after washing up and putting the magazines back in place, I was laying down on the bed when I noticed a box on the floor that took a second for me to connect to my dads old one. A tackle box. Curiousity forced aside tiredness and I opened it up and saw what I had instantly thought of when I realized what it was. Fishing line. Laying back against the pillows on the headboard of the bed I raised my shirt to my chest and lowered my pj bottoms and panties again to my ankles to let me spread my knees and get best access to my stubbly pubic area and that still slightly engorged clit. Tying the first loose knot into the line before placing as low on the base of my clit as I could, having to dry it with my shirt a few times to get a good hold, I pulled taut on the line closing the loose knot around the base. I think held it tight as I could and slowly at first began to wrap my clit with ever tightening fishing line as it slipped less and less. Constantly pressing the line as low on the base to keep it tight to the skin and making my clit grow more prominent as the tighter lower wrappings pressed it outward some and it darkened. After about a dozen tight tight wrapping loops I tied off the line and cut it with a knife leaving the tightly wound line forcing my now very dark purple but noticeably large clit sticking out and almost appearing as large as the womans in the layout. Rubbing my finger along each side and on the tip feeling more of a dull ache on it and slight sensations along the base near it, I lay back and slowly just let my fingers glide around it closing my eyes to feel the odd sensation of my engorged clit. My palm rested on my stubbly pubic hair as alternatingly two or three fingers probed around my larger clit now. The sensations of my hair stubble on my palm, and my fingers sliding all around my clit were subtle but wonderful. Hopes of moving myself to yet another orgasm were hampered by the lessening sensations in my engorged clit. Any desire or hope to have a nice last orgasm before falling asleep faded slowly at first with the subtle feelings and then faded more quickly as the wine and my tiredness gradually took my conciousness even as I lay there with fingers at my damp pussy... DING DONG! The door bell jolted me awake but my mind screamed out in protest as a steady drumming in my head reminded me that too much wine is not always your friend. Half asleep I jumped from the bed throwing on a robe over my quickly straightened out pjs. I went to the door feeling odd and after letting the workmen in and downstairs, I went to the kitchen to get some water, and some aspirin. I settled down on the couch for moments while the morning weekend news show kicked on drinking my water. Suddenly some thoughts rolled into my head and my eyes widened even as I let my hand slip underneath my robe and beneath my waistband. Fingers slowly felt down past stubble to my lips, parting them slightly only to touch on what felt like a small pebble. My fingers touched and squeezed on it between forefinger and thumb feeling it as a hard firm protrusion. Alarm burst through my head and emotions as I realized that although I felt it.. it didn't feel my fingers. I moved into the bathroom closing the door hardly a second before ripping my robe open and pj bottoms and panties down. Parting my lips with both hands I could see a blackened nub of skin wrapped in green fishing line. Panting hard with alarmed whimpers I tried to pull the line off or find the end to untie and became increasing panicked that all this effort was not registering at all in my clit. Checking in all drawers and the cabinet I found some nail clippers and using the edge was able to snip the line a couple of times to allow me to remove it. My dark clit remained poised prominently in its unnatural stuck outward position. I massaged the top and around it gently at first followed as the minutes progressed by more firm and stronger motions, massaging and kneading. A knock on the bathroom door broke the lost focus on massaging. Dressing again I opened the door and the workman asked if everything was okay. I said yes but clearly his assumption was less on my nonreactive clit but about my clearly hungover state. He indicated they were done. It was then I realized I had been in the bathroom for over 3 hours trying to get sensation. Sensation that didn't come. With a shut of the door that mirrored the one from just 12 hours before, the workman left. In the bedroom I looked one last time at my clit. Dark, blackened and stuck in its pulled outward spot from the fishing line. Tapping it lightly, the day progressed as I mindlessly touched it over and over and over... feeling nothing.