Discovery (f/m, gag)

It all had started with a search for a hoodie — just something to pull around her shoulders while she and Jonah studied.

Yochavad hadn’t mean to snoop, but it was getting chilly and since they were in his dorm room at university, Jonah had suggested she could borrow one of his sweatshirts to stay warm. So she had gone into his bedroom from the main suite to grab a sweatshirt from the second drawer of his dresser, but the top drawer was already half-open. Yochavad went to close it, and saw something red and out of place in a drawer full of socks.

It was a red ballgag -- she'd seen Arianna Grande wear one in "Zoolander" -- with long leather straps that trailed through the drawer. It was impossible to pretend she hadn't seen it; so, curious, she reached out her hand and picked it up. The leather felt warm and soft to the touch, and the ball itself looked like a piece of forbidden fruit., good for gaining knowledge. Yochavad pondered the ballgag a moment, her breathing slow, her thoughts louder than normal.

Jonah had never said a word about bondage, but why would he? They'd been dating only a handful of weeks after meeting at the campus Hillel service, and they'd had sex only twice. Was the gag something he wore, or was it something he liked his partner to wear? She thought of Holly, his ex. Had she worn this while Jonah had fucked her, or had she refused to wear it, and that's why they had broken up?

What was it like to be gagged, anyway?

Yochavad's fingers brushed her lips as if she were asking for permission to try it out.

She lifted the gag to her mouth and let her breath in through her nose, as she stretched her mouth open and gently pushed the gag in. Powerful urges began to stir within her as Yochavad realized she would be powerless to speak as long as the gag stayed in place. She'd be unable to object, unable to speak up. She'd be passive and would default to whatever Jonah wanted.

She pulled the straps behind her head and buckled it in place.

Yochavad looked in the mirror on Jonah's wall, and a stranger looked back. A rebellious lock of black hair curled down her forehead. Leather straps hugged her cheeks. A red ball held her lips open in a look of naked arousal that made her pulse jump in her throat. Yochavad was silenced, but she wasn't ashamed. She wasn't even embarrassed.

She stepped out of the bedroom.

The main suite of Jonah’s dorm was lit by the halogen lamp in the corner where he was reading Samuel Coleridge for class. He looked up, and his eyes grew as large as a little boy's on Purim.

Jonah didn’t speak at first. He just set the book aside, and slowly rose to his feet as though he were afraid he would break the spell.

Jonah stood frozen in the golden glow of the halogen lamp, his eyes locked on Yochavad. The red gag rested between her lips like an apple plucked from some ancient tree, and the leather straps hugged her face with a kind of desperately restrained desire.

She didn’t say anything — she couldn’t — but she stood so comfortably that her body language spoke volumes. Her shoulders were relaxed, her hands at her hips in an unspoken invitation. There was no shame in her eyes, just unspoken delight.

Jonah swallowed hard. His fingers twitched at his sides like they didn’t know what to do, and he took first one step closer to her, and then another.

When he reached her, he didn’t touch her right away. He circled her instead, slowly, like he was about to read the scroll during the service and was afraid he would do it wrong.

“You—” The words got stuck and he trailed off into awed silence. Jonah touched her face lightly with the tips of his fingers, and ran his thumb along the leather strap where it crossed her cheek. “You look so hot like this.”

Then, with the softest touch he could manage, he kissed her on the forehead.

Jonah’s breath was still caught somewhere between awe and desire when Yochavad leaned in. Her eyes never left his, but her fingers went directly to the waistband of his jeans. The button popped free, and the zipper whispered down. Yochavad's movements were sure and smooth as she tugged his jeans past his hips and let them fall to the floor.

Jonah's body was already betraying his excitement. His mouth opened and closed again without saying anything. It was like he wanted to say something but had no idea what it would be. Yochavad felt a flash of amusement. This was his fantasy, but somehow now that it had arrived, she was the one in charge.

Yochavad stepped closer, dipping her gaze to where he stood eager and at full attention, straining against his gray boxers, then rose again, deliberate. She looked at him like he was the one being offered up. She placed one hand flat against his chest and pushed, and Jonah went down without hesitation, the backs of his knees bending against the futon. His arms instinctively broke his fall.

Yochavad followed immediately, pulling Jonah's boxers down to his ankles before climbing out of her own denim shorts. A moment later she was naked and climbing onto him with a fluid, grounded grace, her knees straddling his hips, the red ballgag still holding her mouth open in an expression of bliss.

Jonah opened his mouth to say something — her name, maybe — but then Yochavad's hands were running across his chest, exploring its every inch, flicking his nipples, and the only noise he could make was a gasp. Yochavad shifted her hips, just enough to press herself against the length of his penis as it grew stiffer and more erect. She took it in hand and guided it home.

Yochavad began rocking slowly, her breath flaring through her nose, lips stretched around the gag. Jonah reached up — tentative, trembling — and placed his hands on her thighs. Yochavad leaned in close, hair falling over her shoulder, the leather straps brushing his skin.

She could feel him inside her now, pushing upward and inward with every thrust he made. There was an intensity Jonah was bringing to their lovemaking he'd lacked before, and Yochavad knew it was the sight of the gag that did it. She felt Jonah’s hands slide to her hips as he held her like she might vanish if he let go. But Yochavad didn’t disappear; she reflected his passion like the moon returns the light of the sun. She pressed down harder, grinding against him with slow, deliberate pressure that made him groan low in his throat.

She began to ride him slowly, rocking her hips in a measured rhythm, every movement confident and controlled. The gag muffled her moans, but they were there — raw, guttural and all the more powerful because she couldn’t speak.

“Yochavad.” Jonah said her name like it was a prayer.

She kept her eyes locked on Jonah, and Jonah couldn’t take his eyes off her. She saw him stare at the red ball between her lips. She saw him savor the way her hair clung to her damp skin. She felt the flush rise in her chest and she felt her breasts lift and fall as she moved, and she knew Jonah saw these things too.

“You’re… incredible,” Jonah gasped, again. “You’re—holy shit—Yochavad, I’m—”

Jonah came hard. His body arched, head shaking, fingers clutching at her hips like he was afraid of falling out of his own skin. The orgasm rolled through him in waves, unexpected and uncontrollable, the kind that left him trembling in its wake.

Yochavad stayed with him. She kept moving for a few strokes longer, until she felt his body begin to sag beneath hers, his breath slowing, his muscles unclenching. She was still wrapped around him, slick and pulsing, but untouched where she needed it most.

She didn’t push for more. She simply stopped.

Straddling him in the soft light, still gagged, she looked down at him. Her hair fell in loose strands around her face, sticking slightly to the sheen of sweat on her cheeks. The straps framed her jaw, and from one corner of her mouth a stream of drool passed the gag and began to land on Jonah's chest.

Jonah opened his eyes slowly, the haze of pleasure still clouding his vision.

And then he saw her.

“Shit,” he whispered, realization dawning all at once. “Yochavad, I… I didn’t even ask if you were close. I just—”

He trailed off, ashamed, then reached up and fumbled with the gag. The red ball came out with a wet pop, and hung around her neck like an adult novelty necklace. Yochavad worked her jaw a moment and licked her lips, but didn’t say anything right away.

When she did speak, her voice was soft.

“Well," she said. “I guess you liked that.”

Jonah blinked up at her. “But you didn’t get to —”

“I know.” There was silence. "But I have ideas for next time. We're not even close to done.”