Are you ready for an adventure?
Bethany read the words again. The text message was simple enough. It was the one he used whenever inviting her to let him control the evening, to submit to him. She had done it several times before, and she trusted him to give her an experience to remember. And enjoy.
It wouldn’t necessarily be safe. Well, it would be physically safe. Probably. But the whole point of the adventures was to drag Bethany out of her comfort zone. To make her try new things. To excite and arouse her and, if she was lucky, to get her off. But it wouldn’t be straight forward.
Devon always masked the end of the game so that Bethany didn’t know what was coming until it was too late to back out, whether due to circumstance or restraints. Once she started down the path of an adventure, she would have to finish whatever he had planned. She had to decide if she was ready for that.
She brushed a strand of hair out of her face and read the text again. Biting her lip, she typed a reply.
—Yes.—
Her heart raced as she pressed send. What would it be this time? Would he send her to the sex shop to buy another toy? Would he want pictures of her pantyless under her dress at the grocery store? She had already done these things and doubted it would be something so pedestrian so late. It was well after dark in the summer. She crossed her legs in her desk chair and squeezed enough to tease just a little arousal. She imagined the last adventure, sitting naked in Devon’s passenger seat on the way home from dinner. She was sure one car they had passed had seen more than she wanted them to, but the risk had excited her, and the reward in bed that night had been spectacular.
Her breath hitched when the phone buzzed. With trepidation she reached for it. The message preview showed only one line, but it was enough.
—Drive to me. Now.—
So simple. So mysterious. She considered what she was wearing — loose pants and looser nightshirt, her lying around the house clothes — but he had said now. He expected her to come as she was. She hoped the summer night was warm enough to keep her from shivering.
She looked at the clock as she shut off her monitor and stood. 11:08pm. She wondered what would have happened had she already been in bed.
Grabbing her car keys and her phone, her ID and a credit card were tucked in the case, she slipped on a pair of shoes, and went to her car. As she started the engine, she texted a reply.
—On my way.—
She put the car in reverse, but before she could start moving, her phone buzzed.
—Park on the driveway next to my truck. Text when you arrive.—
Bethany’s mind raced trying to imagine what he had planned. She hesitated. If she was expected to hop into his car to go somewhere else, she would be under dressed. She hunched her shoulders slightly, but still her nipples poked at the front of the shirt. She was indecent, and shouldn’t be seen in public. But a tingle between her legs told her she might not mind.
She turned onto Devon’s street and it struck her how late it was. And dark. Porch lights along the suburban street were absent. Only a single distant streetlight shown in the neighborhood. Even Devon’s houselights were out, which Bethany thought unusual since he was expecting her. She panicked for a moment thinking she had missed direction elsewhere. But she hadn’t. He had said to come here.
She pulled into the driveway as directed, stopping next to his Explorer. A shift of the transmission and a flick of the keys and her car was off. Silence settled around her, heightening the hesitation and wonder at what might lie ahead. She took a breath and woke her phone.
—I’m here.—
—Drop your keys in my car window and get in your passenger seat.—
The reply came so quickly, she knew he had had it queued up to send. He’s waiting for me, she thought, pleased.
She looked over and, for the first time, noticed a small red light in the darkness of his Explorer. Puzzled, she was distracted from her trepidation just enough to comply with his instructions without thought. She approached the driver side of the vehicle to find the window down about two inches. Just enough to drop her keys through, but not enough to retrieve them. She tried the handle to find his car locked, as she suspected. Once the keys dropped, she would be at his mercy to give them back. Reaching up, she remembered the red light and found the lens of a camera looking back at her, the small indicator telling her it was recording.
Or transmitting.
She couldn’t help a coy smile as she alluringly, she hoped, reached up and dropped her keys through the crack. With a little wink, she reached behind her, never taking her eyes off the camera. She opened her passenger door and slid inside.
She had guessed correctly. No sooner had her door closed than her phone buzzed again. And again. And a third and fourth time before she had woken it to view the messages.
The instructions.
Bethany’s heart raced. The corners of her mouth pulled up, and then down, as she absorbed the information on the screen.
She put her phone on the dash in front of her and looked around. Not seeing anyone, she braced her feet, lifted herself off the seat, and slid her sweats and panties over her hips and down her thighs. She let out a little gasp when her bare bottom made contact with the car seat. She had not been sitting there long enough to sufficiently warm the leather surface but, like jumping into a pool, it took but a moment to acclimate. She bent forward, awkwardly removing her shoes with her pants binding her legs together at the knees. Her belly fluttered thinking the restriction might be a hint to her body of what was to come.
Free of her shoes, she pushed the pants the rest of the way off, leaving them in a pile in the footwell. Only when she had straightened up did she remember the camera recording her every move with enough of a high angle to perhaps see her bare thighs. She smiled toward the glowing red dot, then checked and rechecked every window she could see in the neighborhood, searching for any sign of life that might prompt her to abort. But her only option other than following the instructions was to safe out and ask for her keys, something she really didn’t want to do.
Steeling her resolve, her eyes constantly scanning neighboring windows, she pulled one arm then the other in from her sleeves. Brushing both against her puckered nipples under her shirt, it struck her that it wasn’t cool enough to cause such a state. She smiled, hugging herself for a moment, then pushed the shirt up to her neck and over her head. She clutched it for a few last moments in front of her breasts before practically throwing it onto the pile at her feet lest she change her mind. She fumbled for the door catch and pulled.
The interior lights of the car came on, temporarily blinding her. In a panic, she jumped out of the car, closing it a little more loudly than intended. Though the evening was warm, the breeze was cool on her bare skin, a constant reminder she was naked. She squatted, using her car on one side, and Devon’s SUV on the other to block any spectators she might have missed. Directly across the street stood the one house she couldn’t hide from, and she wondered if any late night wanderers might be hidden behind its darkened windows.
She watched for several moments before deciding there was no movement. No unexpected — she couldn’t quite call them unwanted — witnesses to her adventure. She peaked over the door and through the window into her car, spotting one of the two things she forgot in her haste. She yanked the door open, reached in to grab her phone off the dash, pushed the power lock button, and closed the door again before anyone could notice the second flash of interior lights.
It wasn’t until the mechanical clenching of the door mechanism that the depth of her precarious state fully registered. She was squatting, naked, on a driveway in the middle of an upper middle-class suburb. A shiver of thrill rippled through her, involuntarily and suggestively arching her spine and nearly making her topple over. With her left arm against her car for stability, she couldn’t help it as the fingers of her right glided over her hard nipple, down her belly to her shaved mound and beyond. The touch sent waves of pleasure through her, heightening her anticipation of whatever Devon had in store for her.
But she couldn’t. Not yet. She didn’t have permission. She pulled her hand away, resisting the urge, and wiped the moisture on her thigh. It was time to move. She would never actually get to Devon if she stayed hunkered down between the cars. She took a deep, calming breath that had little of the intended effect, stood, and trotted around the front of the car to the side of the garage. Only when she was past the threshold of the alley between houses did she stop to look back.
The landscaping rocks along the sides of the houses were sharp and jagged on her bare feet — more so than their daylight appearance had led her to believe — which left her stuck in the open between the buildings, unable to use either for cover. She kept moving toward the back of the house, worried now only about the wooded ravine in front of her and the neighbors to the left. One window on the second floor contained a light, but the others were dark. Both bore risk, though a lit room less so than a darkened one. Sure, someone was awake, but their vision wouldn’t be able to penetrate the darkness between the houses.
She jumped, startled by the buzzing in her hand. Another message from Devon, now that she was out of his camera view. She looked at it, sheepishly biting her lip as she read through the next set of instructions. It would be a big step. More risk. Though she trusted Devon, she would have no recourse if something went wrong.
Creeping forward, she let her eyes adjust after the bright screen of her phone. She glanced up, wondering if the occupants of the lit room might have noticed, and then to the street, including every dark window in her appraisal. Her pulse raced with the prospect of being seen. Perhaps caught. What might someone do with her in her current state? She hastened her step swearing at twigs and uncomfortable clods of dirt as she made her way to the landing.
A flight of wooden stairs led up to the deck. Several of them creaked under her meager weight. They wouldn’t last more than a couple of years before needing to be replaced, she thought. At the top of the stairs, she froze in a crouch. The sliding glass door leading from the lower deck into Devon’s living room was right in front of her. But the drapes were closed, glowing only dimly from a small light within. She could detect no movement in the shadows. She had no idea where Devon was, though she assumed he was in his home office watching the feed from the camera. Or cameras, if she had to guess. She scanned the area for such devices but didn’t see any.
Careful to avoid any enjoyment-ruining slivers, she padded across the lower deck and climbed the four steps to the upper. Here the window and sliding glass door looked into the kitchen dining area. They were slightly better lit than the livingroom, but no more occupied. She searched through the glass to glean some hint of later plans but found nothing. Looking to the left, out onto the deck proper, her heart skipped at identifying the implements of her kink.
There was a rectangular metal table with a glass top heavy enough to require two people to comfortably move. Usually in the middle, it was pushed against the railing. Chairs were shoved to the side as well, leaving an open space before the glass door. Snaking out from the substantial table was a length of chain. Under the table, in the glow of the dim kitchen light, she could make out a padlock anchoring the chain. On the other end of the chain, a pair of handcuffs. Resting atop the cuffs was a wide piece of shaped leather with a strap to hold it comfortably over her eyes.
Bethany shivered. This was almost too much.
Almost.
She glanced into the woods, into the kitchen, and back toward the no longer visible lit neighbor’s room. Seeing nothing that would allow her to abort, she took the three steps toward Devon’s preparations, turned toward the kitchen door, and knelt at the end of the chain. She spread her knees as wide as she could into the expected position of submission. Normally she would lay her hands on her thighs, or more often clasp them behind her head. This time, however, she reached behind her and picked up the blindfold, ensuring she could find the cuffs once it was on.
Pulling the soft leather over her eyes, she attempted another breath to counter the rapidly thumping heartbeat in her ears. It was even less effective than the last time. With her vision removed, she could only imagine what was to come. And the risk that someone unexpected may find her. The pounding increased as she searched her memory, thinking about the objects around her. Which of them might make noise. Which she might use to defend herself. Or free herself. Or throw against the glass to alert Devon.
Mustering her last bit of resolve, she reached behind her, found the cuffs, and secured them around her wrists. With the final ratcheting of the closure echoing in her mind, her senses were consumed by the sound of the wind, the rustling of leaves, the hooting of a distant owl. The world around her came alive in the moment she was completely at its mercy.
# # #
Mariah
—Would you like to go on an adventure?—
Mariah looked at the text message. Devon. She had known him most of her adult life and he was a trusted friend. However, recently, during one of their late-night chat sessions, she had learned they had yet one more thing in common. BDSM. Pandora’s box had been opened and they would both have to live with the consequences.
She wasn’t exactly sure how it came up. All she remembered was, in a slightly inebriated state, their conversation had drifted to porn. Neither were naive and the discussion wasn’t at all judgmental. If she recalled correctly, they had started talking about eCommerce and how the porn industry, in many ways, led the way from a broader digital economy. It figured that horny men, and women, had been driven to find ways of giving away their money in order to see one another naked and in the throes of passion. It was after perhaps one too many drinks that Mariah had confided in Devon her interest in the kinkier side of the internet.
It didn’t seem like much of a revelation, and Devon took it in stride. But through a series of questions, Mariah had shared more than she had intended to. What she liked. What toys she had. She shared, but learned new things about Devon, too. While she was more of a bi-curious bottom, she was also a little top-curious. Devon, on the other hand, was more of a top who occasionally entertained trying the other side. “Maybe someday we’ll go on a little adventure together,” he had eventually suggested.
Possibilities teased Mariah’s subconscious, but they didn’t discuss any details on that fateful night. After realizing what had come to light, each walked back their position, feigning distant curiosity instead of earnest interest, and it didn’t take long for the subject to turn to something more benign.
That was a week ago.
Since then, they had chatted several times on line, and met up socially with a group of friends over dinner. Among them was Bethany, who was either Devon’s girlfriend or his friend with benefits — she couldn’t decide which, though she didn’t pry and didn’t judge. But through the several interactions with him, the subject of porn and sex hadn’t resurfaced.
Until now.
Go on an adventure, she repeated to herself.
She wasn’t certain he was referring to a sexual encounter, but there had been plenty flirting and sexual tension throughout their relationship that Mariah was fairly confident it’s what he meant. The question was . . . did she want to? Would their friendship survive such an encounter? She thought it would, but the risk gave her pause. It also occurred to her that there probably wasn’t anyone she trusted more with which to explore her fascination in the subject of BDSM. She knew he would keep her safe, whatever they did. And who knows? Maybe it was exactly what her life needed. She sent a non-committal response.
—Maybe?—
She stared at the phone. The anticipation that built waiting for his reply told her what her answer should have been. And when several minutes went by without a response, she changed her answer.
—Sure.—
—You won’t regret it.—
She almost jumped with the promptness of those four words. Wondering what came next, she was in the middle of composing her questions when her phone buzzed again in her hands.
—Find that favorite buttplug you told me about, put it in, and drive to my house.—
Whoa! she thought. That escalated quickly. But it didn’t really surprise her, not when she thought about it. The whole point of the adventure was letting him take control.
—Time your arrival for exactly 11:15. Do not be early. Do not be late. Text me when you’re here.—
Mariah looked at her watch. It was 10:38. She didn’t have much time.
She hopped up with more enthusiasm than she expected and went to retrieve the requested item. She wondered if she had time to clean up at all, but a glance at the clock on her nightstand suggested otherwise.
Opening her small chest of toys, she dug past the fur-lined cuffs she had only worn once by herself, the one vibrator, and the other dildo, and found the small cloth pouch she was looking for. Taking the bottle of lube with her, she retreated to her bed where she sat and extracted from the pouch a smooth glass conical object with a flared base. It wasn’t too big, but the rare occasion she had worn it shopping, she had had to cut her trip short to deal with the distracting stimulation it had provided.
Dropping her pants and laying back on the bed, she lubricated the plug and pushed. In and out, she slowly made progress until, finally, the widest point passed her sphincter and was sucked into place. Suddenly in the mood, she traced a finger through her nether lips, but a glance at her nightstand made her heart skip. 10:58. Now she had to hurry.
Barely remembering to lock the front door on her way out, she made it to Devon’s neighborhood with a couple minutes to spare. She stalled, remembering his instructions to not be early, and rolled to a stop on his driveway behind his Explorer at exactly 11:15. With a satisfied smile on her face and the constant reminder in her rear of why she was here, she texted her arrival. Moments later, her eyes widened as she read the lengthy reply.
—You have a choice. If you’re ready to jump into this adventure with both feet, I want you to take off your clothes and walk to the front door. If you’re not ready for that, you may keep your clothes for now, but still come to the front door. You will see a pair of handcuffs hanging there. Lock them on your wrists and ring the bell.—
It was the moment of truth. How badly did she want to explore this new side of her relationship with Devon? She noted the implication that choosing to keep her clothes would be temporary, at best. Looking around the neighborhood, she found almost no lights on. It was late and the houses were all dark leaving but a single street light in the distance against the darkness of night.
Mariah determined the likelihood of being seen was minimal, and the reward of the adventure was high. She bit her lip and, as she debated pros and cons with herself, discovered her hands, of their own volition, had moved to the buckle of her belt. She paused, looking down in disbelief. Was she really ready for this? Both feet into a world she had only imagined?
No. Not yet.
Her heart raced. She hugged herself, taking a couple of breaths as if she were about to dive under water, and tugged the door latch. Sliding from the car, she closed the door and walked toward the house, passing between Devon’s SUV and another car she barely looked at. A fleeting thought about who it might belong to was lost in the sea of anticipation and “what ifs” tumbling through her head, punctuated by what she discovered waiting for her at the front door.
A pair of handcuffs indeed hung there waiting for her, but not on a hook. They were attached by a padlock to a chain stretched high between the two decorative pillars. If she put them on, her wrists wouldn’t just be attached to each other. They would be anchored to the house. She wouldn’t be going anywhere until Devon let her.
She clasped her hands to her chest and was startled by the pounding within. It strained as if she had just finished a several mile run. Continually looking around, she mounted the three steps to the porch, all the while asking herself if she was ready for this. And, each time, the fullness of the plug and the wetness between her legs said yes, even as the independent, feminist part of her brain screamed no.
Leaning against one of the pillars, like some cartoon character trying to hide behind a skinny tree, she examined the cuffs more closely. They were real and were really secured to the chain. They hung a little off center between the pillars, but not exactly close to one. The arrangement set them to the right of the door. It also triggered her OCD. She wondered if it was to avoid being in the way as the door swung open to the left, though there appeared to be plenty of space either way.
She raised a hand and touched them, realizing how her arms would be held extended over her head if she put them on. Perhaps an illusion, but the metal felt cool against her skin despite the ambient summer night air being quite warm. She wondered how much of her own burgeoning perspiration was because of the temperature versus hormones and anticipation.
Tucking her phone into her pocket and taking one final look around, she reached up. She didn’t quite have to get on her tippy toes, but was sure it wouldn’t be comfortable to stand bound there for too long. She had to trust Devon’s plan. She ratcheted one closed around her wrist, then the other, all the while her chest audibly thumping. With a final click to make sure she wasn’t cheating, it was done.
She took a deep breath and looked around. She could turn easily enough, at least until the padlocked chain started binding on itself. The clear view of the street gave her first hints of regret. She was completely exposed to any one of four neighboring houses, and anyone who happened to drive by. She wondered what they might think seeing her standing with her hands above her head. Would they even be able to see the cuffs or chain? A wave of relief passed through her at having not taken the two-footed leap into this adventure.
Turning back around, she looked in the dark windows of Devon’s house noting no changes from the moment of her arrival. She could see now that the position of the cuffs placed her directly in front of the narrow window that ran the full height adjacent to the front door. A very dim light glowed through a curtain, obscuring any view beyond. She could detect no movement.
She considered her next instruction and, after a moment of panic, lifted her left foot and reached out to press the doorbell. And, at the moment of contact, something flashed on her right. Stunned for a moment with her left leg sticking out, she could just make out a glint and the shape of a lens of some sort sitting in the front bay window. She wasn’t sure what it was, nor could she identify the source of the flash.
In her confusion, she wasn’t sure if she had missed it, but she had heard no bell. After a few seconds, and more hesitantly, she raised her right foot. Keeping an eye on the bay window to her right, she pressed the button. Again, she was rewarded with a flash, but this time, to her horror, she perceived what it was. The flash came from just above the glint in the bay window as the doorbell button had triggered a camera. It’s position would have given it a nice view of her with legs spread each time she reached for the bell. That her plug might have been visible paled in comparison to how exposed her pussy would have been the first time. But, still, she heard no audible announcement of her arrival. Not wanting to provide another suggestive pose for the camera, she hung still, relaxing her arms from the strain of balancing her leg lifting, and contemplated what to do next. But before a solution came to mind, the subtle glow of light through the curtain was interrupted by the shadow of someone approaching.
# # #
Bethany 2
Bethany hadn’t knelt there for long, though it seemed an eternity with the sounds of nature around her. Then, the distinctive breaking of the seal between door and frame startled her. Someone was opening the sliding glass door. She stiffened, arching her back and presenting the form of a proud submissive. Though she couldn’t see them through her blindfold, she could imagine her breasts protruding from her chest, puckered nipples at their tips. Unable to move her arms, and unwilling to close her legs, she stayed in that exposed and indecent position as the first of several soft footsteps approached her from the house. The steps were accompanied by a light jingle she couldn’t place, and also a satisfied hum of appraisal as Devon admired her. Inspected her.
“It makes me so happy when you choose to follow my instructions.” Devon’s voice was distinct and reassuring to Bethany, his words exhilarating. She knew not to answer.
She could sense him close to her. He had crouched, his knee landing on the deck close to hers. She waited in anticipation for what was to come.
His touch was electric. A slow caress on the inside of her right leg. Starting near the knee, he drifted inward, lifting off just before where her inner thigh met her mons. Then he returned, tracing up her right side, from hip to ribs. Then a touch on her shoulder and down her arm before withdrawing again, leaving only the air on her skin. Her heart thumped with anticipation. Her lips parted drawing a jagged breath. And she waited.
She shivered at the lightest touch of his fingers, one on the very tip of each nipple. A slow circular stroke, brushing the areolae, and outward with more fingers to a proper fondle of each breast. Then nothing.
She felt his knee move forward, coming to rest firmly between her legs. It inched closer to her nether lips, then pressed against them, the pressure of his bare skin warmer even than the summer air. His open hands found the sides of her face, turning it, directing it to receive his kiss. His soft lips met hers. A tongue teased and danced with hers. His warm breath mixed with hers. She melted into him, desperately wanting to wrap her arms around him. To hold him.
But she couldn’t.
Her wrists strained at the cuffs, rattling the chain behind her back. Her shoulders shrugged toward him. Her body leaned. But he was gone again, leaving her nearly falling forward into the void of where he was. She settled herself, licking her lips, tasting the memory of his kiss.
She heard a jingle again, not from her cuffs. From something Devon set on the table behind her. She turned her head to understand the noise.
“Nuh-uh,” he scolded, using a hand to turn her head back to the front. Then it shifted, taking up her hair, gathering it in a hand-held pony tail, lifting it off her bare back. The jingle, again, was followed by something soft on the back of her neck, and then wrapping around it. Encircling it.
The collar became snug, though not tight, and she heard the distinctive click of a small padlock below her chin. When his hands released the device, it settled with some weight. It was more than the simple collar she had worn on several occasions in their play. Testing, she turned her head ever so slightly left and right and felt the weight of the device rock back and forth. Bethany was fairly certain she knew what the device was, though she had never worn one.
Devon reached behind her and wrestled with her cuffs, freeing her right hand and bringing it up. When it was even with the side of her neck, about a foot from her shoulder, her suspicions were confirmed. A leather strap closed around her wrist to hold it in place. Relaxing slightly, the weight of her arm threatened to pull her off balance. She held it up as repeated the process with her left arm. Bethany was locked in a metal and leather yoke which held her hands to the side, away from her body. Away from being able to protect either her modesty or her innocence. Not that she wanted to do either.
He knelt again before her, his left hand pulling her head to a kiss while his right explored her body. Excitement raged through her at every touch. He caressed the under side of her confined arm. He teased and tweaked her nipple. He cupped her mons, snaking one finger between her lips, penetrating her innocence. Feeling her wetness.
Her body hummed, inching ever closer to release. Her breathing became labored as the tension built from his manipulations. Then . . . he stopped. And something tickled her awareness. A sound, almost like the flash of a camera. But that didn’t make sense so her distracted brain dismissed it. She gasped as he rocked back and stood. Her heavy breathing continued through her desire to complain about the interruption. She was so close, but could do nothing to finish. She tried to sit lower, to press her pussy against the deck surface, but she couldn’t reach it. She wasn’t that flexible.
“I’ll be right back,” said Devon as he abandoned her in her heat. She heard the door slide closed again leaving her alone, more vulnerable and aroused than ever before.
# # #
Mariah 2
The shadow grew and the narrow window darkened until Mariah could make out the shape of a person. A man. Her heart raced. The pull of metal from vinyl echoed in her mind as Devon pushed open the screen door from within.
“Hello,” he said, appraising her.
“Hi,” she replied before chewing on her lower lip.
“I see you chose option ‘B.'” There was just the hint of disappointment in the way he said “B,” but it passed quickly.
“I did.” After a beat she looked to the neighborhood and added, “I’m not sure I’m ready for everyone to see.” For everyone to know, she thought to herself.
“I understand.” He stepped to the porch, letting the screen door close gently behind him. “But you’re here.” He stepped close, his warm breath teasing her forehead. She looked up at eyes she could barely see in the dark.
His hands came up, gently making contact with the distended sides of her shoulder as her arms stretched above her head. His touch was light, and he trailed his fingers up her triceps and past her elbows to her wrists, bound in steel. And back down again, maintaining contact as he traced a line down each side.
She shuddered with a tickle. Goose bumps welled up, her nipples hardened. She crossed her legs and squeezed, as if ashamed of the wetness between. Only, the pressure made it worse. Or better.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked, his hands exploring the contours of her body.
“For what?” She blushed at her own coyness.
His hands slid under the hem of her shirt, finding the bare skin beneath. He followed her belt line to the small of her back. His arms wrapped around her as he explored her clothed body. Frustration built as she couldn’t return the near embrace. She wiggled her arms causing the chains to rattle, ever so slightly. “Are you going to leave me out—ahh.” Her question died on her lips as his hands squeezed her buttocks and found the plug buried between them. Pleasure rippled through her as he pressed the toy.
“I see you can follow directions,” he said.
Her neck craned, her lips trying to reach any part of his skin.
He stepped back, his hands caressing her ribs. His touch finding the bottom seam of her bra as it drew away. “Perhaps,” he finally answered. She wasn’t sure in the shadows, but she could have swore he wore a mischievous grin. “We’ll see if you’re ready.”
She didn’t know what he meant, but before she could ask, he placed a finger on her lips shushing her and pulled the door open behind him. He slipped back into the house, leaving her hanging from her wrists on his porch, frustrated with anticipation.
When the door fully closed, the curtain of the narrow window pushed aside, replaced by the silhouette of his head. She watched him reach up to the top and manipulate something, then the curtain dropped to the ground filling the narrow window with his form, looking back at her. She wondered what he was doing, and realized, in that moment, she was sure she wanted to do whatever it was he had planned. Though, in the next, she was shocked with an understanding of what it might entail.
The window frame had cleared — she had no idea what had happened to Devon because her attention was riveted to the scene that replaced him. There, through the entry way and the kitchen beyond, through the distant glass of the sliding door to the deck, was Bethany. Naked. Kneeling, with her knees spread obscenely wide. Her hands were held a foot to either side of her head by what looked like a metal bar. She sat patiently waiting, her eyes covered by some sort of blindfold.
Mariah stared at her friend in disbelief, for the first time wondering if she had made a mistake. Yet she didn’t struggle. And she was annoyed when Devon walked to the sliding door to open it, blocking her view.
She saw Bethany flinch, perhaps surprised by the sound of the door. The other woman straightened her posture, arching her back ever so slightly. Mariah couldn’t help but notice the shape of her friend. She looked amazing. It might have been because of how the position stretched her torso, or pushed her breasts forward, but Mariah’s bi-curiosity bubbled to the top of her thoughts.
Devon knelt, just enough to one side for her to watch, with rising jealousy, as his hand touched Bethany. Caressing the insides of her thighs. Passing over her belly and up her ribs. Cupping her breast. Rolling her nipple. Each action elicited subtle responses from the woman, shivers and yearning leans. And Mariah’s imagination went into overdrive with herself in Bethany’s place.
Then, he stopped, leaving both women wanting more.
Devon stood and, with a hand on each side of her yoke, assisted Bethany to her feet. He placed a hand on the small of her back, and on her ass, and gently guided her through the sliding door. She had to turn sideways to avoid banging her bound hands on the door frame before continuing forward, through the kitchen.
Toward the front door.
Mariah’s heartbeat peaked as she anticipated an awkward encounter on the front porch.
But Bethany stopped.
Devon stood behind her with a hand on each hip, holding her. His foot appeared between her ankles, tapping left and right, compelling the woman to spread her legs. Wider with each tap until her feet were even with her trapped hands. She stood there, stoically, her head level like she was staring at the horizon instead of into the darkness of her blindfold. Her lips parted with a gasp and Mariah’s wandering eyes found the reason. Devon’s hands had begun to roam her body anew.
Pressed against her back, his left hand traced up the front of her thigh while his right came across her bicep to her shoulder and neck. His left advanced across her abdomen to the opposite hip while his right teased the skin above and below the yoke’s collar. His left came back to her belly button while his right caressed her chin, the nape of her neck, her upper chest. Finally, both hands came to rest cupping her breasts. He lifted them, caressing the underside, and brought the finger and thumb of each hand together to capture her nipples.
Mariah gasped, watching. She recrossed her legs, squeezing her sex. Stoking her arousal with the aid of her anal intruder, but she could only get so far. She pulled on her hands, wishing them to be free, but succeeded only in lifting her twined legs off the ground for as long as her wrists, pained from the metal cuffs, would allow. Which was longer than expected while she was enthralled by the wanton display of sexuality.
As the scene continued to play out, to Mariah’s frustration, Devon had released Bethany’s right breast, though he continued to manipulate the left, and lowered his hand to her belly. Lower still to her bald pubic mound. He cupped it, his fingers stretching over her lips. He rubbed, forward and back, a finger disappearing into the wetness within. Mariah looked up to see her friend’s head lolling back on Devon’s shoulder, her mouth hanging open with a gasp of ecstasy. She was sure Bethany was about to have an orgasm. But then her mouth closed in a grimace as Devon’s hand retreated before she could find release.
He was teasing her. Mariah expelled the breath she had been holding in anticipation. She rattled her chains and swore, then looked around, afraid she had drawn attention to herself. But windows remained dark and the neighborhood quiet.
When she turned back, her eyes locked with Devon’s. He was staring right at her. He smiled as he continued to molest his girlfriend, a performance for Mariah.
She dropped her eyes, embarrassed by her own arousal at what she was witnessing. Experiencing.
Movement through the window drew her attention, again. Devon had turned Bethany sideways giving Mariah an opportunity to admire her round buttocks, her flat stomach, her jutting breasts in profile as Devon stood before her. From this position, she noted how the yoke held Bethany’s hands in line with her shoulders, ensuring her breasts stuck out further than anything else. She adjusted her own arms and rotated her shoulders, mimicking the posture, feeling the press of her shirt against her own breasts as they strained for release.
Then Bethany lowered to her knees at Devon’s unheard insistence. She settled, sitting on her ankles with knees again spread obscenely wide, her face tipped up toward the man she couldn’t see. Mariah’s uncertainty of what was to come was brief and was answered by Devon’s hands at his own waist. Lowering his shorts. Freeing his manhood. She inhaled sharply as the semi-erect member sprang free from confinement. He stroked it a few times, stepping toward Bethany until he was close enough.
The tip of his penis touched the tip of her chin, and her mouth immediately opened, though she didn’t otherwise move. For several moments, Devon caressed her cheeks and lips with his tool. Her tongue darted out, searching, though he didn’t let her capture it. Not until the third or fourth such encroachment — Mariah had lost count — did he arch forward enough for the head to enter her mouth. When it did it was spectacular. Bethany adjusted her balance and greedily devoured it, moving up and down his shaft. In and out he thrust, his rigidity notably increased. Her hands strained in their bonds, opening and closing, twisting and turning as they struggled to participate in her ministrations.
And as Mariah watched her friend struggle to pleasure Devon, the desire to assist welled within her. She wanted to be there, on her knees next to Bethany, serving the man who dominated the encounter. She licked her lips and recrossed her legs, hoping to get some new pleasure from the pressure she exerted. She wiped her mouth on her up-stretched bicep, only then realizing the perspiration on her face was not from the heat of the summer night. But when her vision returned to the action, and her view through the narrow window resumed, she froze. While Devon stood, slowly thrusting, matching the reciprocal motions of Bethany’s mouth, he was looking not at his girlfriend, but directly at Mariah.
Their eyes locked for the second time. In a moment of panic, she was sure he could tell what she wanted. But this time, though she was just as embarrassed as before, she was not ashamed. She wanted in. She licked her lips again, more slowly and deliberately this time, and then let them part. She exhaled through her mouth as if her breath could reach him through the glass.
Devon smiled.
He stopped thrusting, and if Mariah could read anything from her bound friend, she guessed it was disappointment at the interruption. Yet Bethany sat, placidly waiting for the next step if, perhaps, breathing a little more heavily. Her breasts rose and fell as she sat back on her heals. Then she stood. Devon helped her to her feet before finding her nipples with his fingers and gently tugging. Backward he stepped, towing Bethany slowly enough that Mariah knew it couldn’t hurt too much. The lack of pain on Bethany’s face confirmed as much, and the couple disappeared up the stairway to the left.
Mariah shivered. Chains jingled above her. Her shoulders were just beginning to feel the strain of being locked in position. She teetered back and forth in place, eager for some sort of stimulation. But all she had was the dull squeeze and anal reminder that came from crossing and uncrossing her legs. Not enough to get anywhere.
After a couple of minutes, though it seemed like many more, Devon reappeared, naked, descending the stairs. Mariah flushed, unable to take her eyes off his stiff cock as it led the way. She had never considered what he might have been hiding beneath his clothes. He had been just a friend who wasn’t an athlete, but neither was he a couch potato. He wasn’t the image she usually conjured while masturbating but, in that moment, he was exactly what she wanted.
He opened the door with a finger to his lips, though through her ragged breathing, she couldn’t have spoken anyway. She was so enthralled it took her until he spoke to realize he was standing on his porch naked. “Are you ready to try this?” he asked.
“T-try what?”
But Devon ignored her feeble deflection, cupped her face in his hands, and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss seemed to last for days, and when he pulled back, it was all she could do to mumble a barely audible “Yes.”
He smiled and inched closer. As he reached with a key up to her cuffs, she felt his manhood press against the skin of her belly.
# # #
Bethany 3
Bethany didn’t necessarily enjoy the position she was in, but she always enjoyed the pleasure Devon gave her while in it. She was lying face up on the bed, naked. A cuff around each ankle prevented her from closing her legs, not that she wanted to. This is where Devon would give her pleasure. Normally, her arms were similarly stretched to the headboard but, this time, they were even more confined. Held rigidly in the metal and leather yoke, any amount of struggle with one arm caused her neck and other arm to jostle as well.
Her eyes remained covered, as they had been since the deck, but that wasn’t the only sense blocked. Devon had placed a set of earphones on her head and flooded her hearing with what sounded like the soundtrack from a porn video. There was lots of pleasureful grunting with little to distinguish exactly what was happening, either in the video or in her room. She had no idea if Devon was still present or had left her to stew in her arousal. His parting gift of a vibrating egg in her pussy ensured plenty of that, though she doubted it was enough to get her off. She suspected that was his intent.
All she could do was wait for him to take her to the next level.
She wondered how he might do it this time. Perhaps a feather along her legs, over her shaved mons. Perhaps clamps on her nipples she had to trust he wouldn’t over tighten. Perhaps he would start with a gentle tug on the cord to the egg, moving it around within her.
The bed shifted, eliciting a gasp she couldn’t hear though it came from her own mouth. She imagined Devon approaching from the foot of the bed, slowly crawling toward her prize. His weight wobbling the bed left and right. There was a light touch, almost like wisps of hair on her left knee, and then it was gone, replaced by gentle caresses inside her right thigh. She shivered when the puff of breath warmed her nether lips. He was almost there.
She lifted her knees, making room for him to slide his arms beneath and hold her as he devoured her. But he did not. He held his distance, blowing lightly on her lips and raising goose bumps across her mons.
Then, a touch.
Warm and wet, his tongue stroked up her lips, then retreated.
“Please don’t stop,” she moaned through the soundtrack that seemed to echo her own feelings.
He didn’t.
His tongue returned, this time probing her lips, pushing past the threshold and up against her clit. Soft lips sealed to the skin around the intrusion, and she could feel the pull as her bean was lured out. A wave of pleasure rose with the suction, but again he retreated. He had never done that before, but she wanted him to do it again. She arched her back, lifting her sex toward the absent mouth, bumping it briefly before it retreated further. Bethany moaned in frustration and sank back to the bed. Her limbs fought against their restraints in a futile search for her assailant.
Eventually she settled and the mouth returned.
This time Devon’s tongue slipped up and down between her lips, probing and teasing, sucking and licking. Giving her pleasure. It didn’t take long for the heat within her to build and, though she could tell Devon wanted her to wait, she couldn’t. Her body writhed in its bonds as she had the first of what she hoped would be several orgasms. Already she felt exhausted, but Devon’s mouth didn’t stop.
The aftershocks continued, as did the stimulation. She could feel the heat returning, but knew it would take time to climax again. She settled, enjoying the warm mouth on her sex, even as the bed shifted. She could feel herself list to one side as Devon’s lips trapped her nipple, drawing it into his mouth. His tongue played over it with smooth wetness, and his lips pulled at it, even as his mouth continued to suck at her clit. She arched her back, immersed in the dual points of pleasure as something tickled her consciousness. Something wasn’t right, even though her body screamed that it was.
Then, a light came on, and she was beset by fear and embarrassment and excitement and wonder, all at the same time.
As she jerked slightly and opened her mouth to protest, the lips at her nipple were there, kissing her the way only Devon did. The kiss lasted an eternity, even as the kiss on her nether lips continued to build steam. Finally, he relented and, with one hand, pushed her headphones off her ears, ending the soundtrack of someone else’s sex. As Bethany searched the silence for any hint to identify who else might be there, Devon whispered in her ear.
“I hope you’re enjoying your surprise.” One hand lightly traced the contours of her chest. “I set this up just for you. But you must not talk until we’re done. No peeking and no cheating.” She could hear the smile in his voice. He was certainly pleased with himself, and Bethany couldn’t really complain at the moment. Leaving the headphones off, his mouth kissed her chin and her cheeks and her neck and moved to her other nipple to give it equal attention. It almost distracted her from the unknown, until the unknown reminded her it was still there.
The mystery mouth continued to eat her as arms she couldn’t identify snaked beneath her legs, led by probing hands that searched and caressed her stretched body. Up her hips, over her belly and ribs on each side, each hand finding points to tease or bring pleasure. As they found her breasts, Devon — the real Devon — retreated, leaving her alone with this stranger, and Bethany became suddenly self-conscious of someone new exploring her body.
The heat in her belly retreated, just a little bit. She hoped it would return after she became more comfortable with the situation. She trusted Devon, and they had talked a number of times about inviting another woman into their bed, but she had assumed she would be involved with planning such an encounter. Despite the surprise, she couldn’t really complain about the results, and the question of who had joined them would have to remain unanswered until someone removed her blindfold.
The mystery hands and mouth ramped up their stimulation, caressing her skin, fondling her breasts, teasing her nipples, eating her pussy. Another orgasm peeked around the corner. Then the visitor paused, as if startled, and let out a gasp of hot breath over her smooth pubic mound. When the manipulations resumed, they came with a new dynamic. A rhythmic pulsing of pressure. The tongue between her lips thrust deeper and the hands did more holding than caressing. Slow at first, the tempo increased until the motion was accompanied by the sound of skin-on-skin contact, almost slapping.
Devon is fucking the person eating me.
The realization pushed Bethany closer to the edge. Another orgasm was coming. But then, the licking became more erratic. Distracted. Interrupted by audible gasps and bursts of hot breath. The hands clutched at her hip, as if hanging on for dear life. Then, the tongue resumed, as if it had just remembered what it was doing, though with more desperation than before. The sound of the woman’s climax so close to her own was enough. The realization sent Bethany over the edge as another wave of pleasure rocked her.
As the orgasm subsided — reluctantly and with several aftershocks — the mouth between her legs continued to tease. Absent, though, was the thrusting motion from whatever Devon had been doing to her. Just gentle licking and sucking and fondling as both women recovered.
Bethany opened her mouth, tempting Devon’s command for silence. But before she could break the rule, the woman began to move. The licking and sucking became kissing. The hands and arms retreated and shifted as the woman’s mouth found more spots to tease. Leaving her sex and inner thighs, they gradually worked their way over her mound. To her belly button, where the tongue teased and explored. Over her abdomen, where lips and breath left a trail of sensation. To her ribs, where kisses marked a trail of passion.
And then, another sensation. Between the kisses, strands of hair touched her, trailing along one side and then the other, teasing and tickling her skin. Bethany imagined the cat-like figure of a woman, slinking up over her body, and the arousal she had thought exhausted began to stir.
Higher still, the kissing and errant hair crept on her body. Her breasts were now their object of affection, and the warmth and wetness of her mouth found first one nipple then the other, bringing them both back to attention. Moans of pleasure escaped her own mouth, to be answered by a satisfied giggle on her chest.
After a few turns at each nipple, the stranger continued her climb, her kissing mouth finding Bethany’s collar bone and the nape of her neck. The sides of her jaw. The lobes of her ear. Her temple, just below the strap of the blindfold. Her cheek. Then . . . her mouth, and Bethany was finally able to return the kiss, which she enthusiastically did.
Lips pressed against one another. Tongues danced together. Passion flowed between them, and she didn’t want it to stop. And for several minutes, it didn’t. Though Bethany was trapped in her bondage, the other woman was not. She slid enough to one side that her hand could return to exploring. The woman’s legs slid over her own. First one — and for a moment she thought she could feel the other woman’s pussy rub against her thigh — and then the other until she straddled Bethany, with feet hooked under her knees.
The kissing continued, in earnest by both parties, and the wandering hand traced, one more time, up her side and over her breast to her neck. Then the side of her head. Then, with one finger hooked under the strap, the woman pushed the blindfold up and off of Bethany’s eyes.
Anxiety raged. Her heart raced. Bethany’s eyes remained closed for moments, unsure if she wanted to know. What if it was someone she didn’t like. Or didn’t find attractive. Or someone she knew. Or didn’t know. All of the possibilities were terrifying as the truth remained attached to her mouth in a kiss. But then, the mouth retreated, and the breath on her face told her the other woman hovered inches above. A whispered word passed between them. “Chicken.”
Goaded into action, Bethany struggled to open her eyes with the brightness of the dim room and the closeness of the subject. But in a moment, she had her answer. “Mariah,” she said, her voice a mix of disbelief and approval.
In answer, Mariah closed the distance and kissed her again. And, after a moment’s hesitation, Bethany reciprocated.
“That is so hot.” Devon’s voice from the side interrupted the moment, and both women turned their heads toward him. Devon sat in the dressing chair, naked, his hands stroking and manipulating himself as he masturbated to the scene before him. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said, clearly disappointed they had.
Mariah looked back to Bethany, the corners of her mouth turning up with a mischievous grin as she said, “My turn.”
Bethany didn’t immediately understand, and when she did, the anxiety returned. She had never given oral sex to a woman before, but as she watched Mariah push herself up, grab the headboard, and settle her knees on either side of Bethany’s head, that was exactly what she was about to do.
Determined not to panic, she licked her lips as her friend’s pussy lowered itself gently onto her mouth. Tentatively, she tasted the other woman, and found it not displeasing. Sweet, even. And with the seal broken, and her first move made, she began to pleasure the woman as best she could.
But it was difficult in her position and in her bondage. She found her best approach to be to open her mouth and accept the folds of Mariah’s lips into her own, to extend her tongue and lick what was available, and to allow Mariah, in her dominant position, to move her hips and grind her pussy as she wanted to against her mouth. Bethany was more a passenger in this journey to climax.
As she lay there, she couldn’t help but appreciate Mariah’s body from this angle. From the flat belly to the small breasts bouncing above her. Toned arms gripping the headboard for stability. Locks of hair framing a face with eyes closed in the throes of passion. She was sure Mariah had an orgasm while riding her face, but there was only a short pause where the woman looked down at her and asked, “Again?” Bethany hadn’t stopped licking and sucking and, as best she could, nodded her head.
The scene continued with Mariah having at least two more orgasms in short order — Bethany was jealous of her friend — before Devon appeared in her view.
Climbing onto the bed, he carefully inserted himself into the scene, standing between Mariah and the headboard, feet spread to either side of the undulating women. Bethany could occasionally touch his feet with her bound hands.
Once he was safely in place, Mariah didn’t hesitate. Her mouth engulfed his penis, gradually taking its whole length before retreating to start again. And the rhythm of her motion atop Bethany adjusted to accept the new member to the group.
Bethany tried to watch without forgetting about Mariah. She wanted to see what would happen if the woman had another orgasm with Devon in her throat. With a few minutes effort, and after they had all acclimated to the new configuration, she got her wish. Almost choking, Mariah became rigid and shook with an intense orgasm. Devon grunted, with his member in her throat. Bethany thought he was going to cum too. He looked close. But he held off, though she didn’t know why.
Devon withdrew from Mariah’s mouth and helped the shaken woman stabilize herself, guiding her hands to the headboard. He slid sideways, avoided stepping on Bethany’s trapped hands, and disappeared from view behind Mariah’s thighs. She continued licking another few moments until Mariah lifted her pussy out of reach. Bethany looked up to her face and received the warmest “thank you” smile she had ever seen. She flushed, embarrassed by what she had done, but excited by a world of new possibilities.
The bed was moving then, and Bethany felt Devon brushing against her legs. Was he going to eat her now, too? She wasn’t sure if she could handle too much more stimulation. She had rarely had more than one orgasm in a session before, and she had already had two. But she couldn’t see. Mariah was still blocking her view and she was effectively bound to the bed. The other woman glanced over her shoulder toward Devon, then slumped forward, resting her head on her crossed arms against the headboard. She arched her back a little, pressing her pussy back to Bethany’s mouth.
But just as Bethany resigned herself to giving more oral stimulation, she froze in shock as Devon’s penis penetrated her well-lubricated vulva in one slow, persistent stroke.
Mariah yelped above her, and Bethany realized she had clamped her mouth down on the other woman’s pussy. She tried to apologize, but the only thing to pass her lips was a gasp.
Mariah crawled to one side, finally giving Bethany the view of Devon looming over her, hands planted wide, thrusting, stroke after stroke. Bethany was barely coherent with the building wave of pleasure.
As Devon continued plunging into her, Mariah settled at her side, one hand fondling Bethany’s breasts and her mouth teasing an ear. Devon’s pace increased and, from experience, Bethany knew he was close. But she was close too. It was a race. A race, she discovered, she wanted to win. When his breathing became a primal grunt, Mariah tweaked her nipple, sucked on her earlobe, and sent her over the edge with him. She could feel Devon go rigid as he expelled his seed into the core of her third orgasm. An orgasm that had her twitching and shaking for what seemed an eternity after he collapsed on top of her, trapping Mariah’s hand.
The heavy breathing of three people was the only sound in the room for several minutes, only interrupted when the ever-playful Mariah said, “That was fun.” They all laughed, and Bethany knew it would not be their last time together.