Lunch
Mariah
A week had passed since her encounter with Bethany and Devon. Remembering the experience had brought Mariah to orgasm at least once a day, but she had heard not a word from either of them.
They had finished the night together — she sleeping soundly as the middle spoon — and lounged around in bed until hunger had compelled Devon to get up and cook. The women cuddled a bit longer, but when they all finished their nude breakfast, regular life barged in on them. Mariah had a previous commitment and ended up leaving while Bethany was only half dressed. She hadn’t been able to help wondering when their next encounter might be.
Not soon enough, was her only conclusion.
After sitting home the following Friday evening, hoping to receive another unbidden invitation from Devon that didn’t come, she couldn’t wait any longer. She mulled it over after breakfast on Saturday, and spent a couple hours composing and word-smithing a text message to Devon before finally hitting send.
–Was last week’s adventure a one-off event?–
She dropped the phone on the counter like it was on fire and walked away, busying herself with a bit of cleaning, and pretending she wasn’t anxiously awaiting a response. When it didn’t come after five minutes, she checked her phone to make sure she hadn’t missed a reply or forgotten to actually hit send. It wouldn’t have been the first time she had done that. But, no, transmission had been successful.
As she was staring at the screen, chiding her compulsiveness, words appeared in the conversation just before the notification alert beeped.
–Do you want it to be?–
She continued staring, frozen in consideration. Did she want it to be? Now she wasn’t sure. It was a pleasurable experience, despite the awkwardness. Despite her initial reluctance. So, the answer must be…
–No–
Her heart raced as she hit send before she could chicken out. Her minor cleaning forgotten, she stood, leaning against the counter wondering who had turned off her air conditioner. Biting her lip, she put the phone down to stare at it without touching, as if that might absolve her of responsibility for what might come next. She hovered over the phone with palms flat on each side. Her weight shifted a couple of times, and her face flushed when she discovered her legs crossed and her thighs clinching.
–What did you like about it?–
There was no way she could honestly answer him. To do so would be too much of an admission and way too embarrassing. But then she imagined, maybe she wasn’t talking to him. Maybe she was just sending anonymous text messages into the ether.
–Everything–
She couldn’t believe she had typed that. “Everything.” She certainly didn’t like being left outside, her wrists in handcuffs. Only… she nearly came, hanging like that on his porch. And then, she certainly enjoyed taking advantage of Bethany as she lay on her bed, blindfolded, arms pinned in the steel yoke. She couldn’t deny her feelings. Yes, “everything” was the correct answer. But it wasn’t that simple.
–I want to know more–
–Like what?–
She idly drummed her fingers on the counter as she considered his question.
–Like, do you always bind your dates and leave them outside?–
Any pretense of cleaning was now gone. She waited for his reply with rapt attention.
–I can bind my women anywhere I like. If the porch or the bedroom aren’t enough for you, I have a whole dungeon at my disposal–
Mariah heard the sound of air being suddenly inhaled before she realized it was her own gasp.
But then she considered his statement. He doesn’t have a dungeon, she decided. She had been to his house more than once with their extended social group, and the basement had a library room with a pool table, and a home theater. She couldn’t imagine where a dungeon might be hiding. She was so distracted by his misrepresentation that his subtle invitation didn’t register.
–Where do you have a dungeon? There’s no space–
–You don’t believe me?–
Defiant in her disbelief, she didn’t answer. A few moments later he texted again.
–Would you like to see it?–
She almost came right then.
# # #
Bethany
Bethany looked across the table at Devon and smiled. It had been a relaxing Saturday morning, so far, and they were just finishing lunch. While dishes and serving-ware still littered the kitchen table, she savored the lingering aroma of the pasta meal he had cooked.
Her serene mood was interrupted by an alert from his phone. She pouted to herself at whatever might disturb their time together. He smiled and returned to their discussion about plans for the days ahead. Several minutes later, he picked up the phone and typed a message. After that, the exchange became more frequent, and she began to sour on his distraction. She wasn’t sure if her face gave her away or Devon reacted to something in the conversation, but his mood also changed.
“I think I need to get you out of the way for a little while,” he said. Bethany’s eyes widened, but he cut off her protest asking, “Are you ready for an adventure?”
The uncertainty invoked by the phrase thrilled her, and that was terrifying, and the terror it brought also thrilled her. But she wasn’t conflicted at the prospect. Not even a little. She sat up a little straighter, finished chewing, and swallowed her last bite before whispering a throaty, “Yes.”
Devon smiled. “Take off your clothes.”
She knew he didn’t mean go to his room and do it. He meant right here. Right now.
She stood and pushed in her chair, then pulled her night shirt over her head in one fluid motion. The rush of air and her mood brought her nipples to attention. Her house pants followed in quick succession, pooling on the floor at her feet. There she stood, naked, waiting for his next command.
“Clear the table first, then put your jammies in my room and meet me downstairs.” He turned and left without looking back. It was almost disappointing that he didn’t stay to ogle her, but that meant he had a plan. And she was always happy when he had a plan.
She quickly finished her tasks and padded down the stairs to the basement. Music was already playing on the stereo, setting the mood for some lengthy play. She knelt behind him as he worked at clearing out one of the bookcase sections. She waited patiently for him to notice her, as was expected. Eventually, he bid her stand and follow him to the closet on the right.
She did so patiently, spreading her legs and clasping hands to elbows behind her back as he rummaged through their toy chest. He turned to her. Blood rushed to her nether regions when she saw the bundle of purple leather straps. She knew what they were for, and eagerly held out her hands.
Carefully, Devon wrapped the leather around one wrist and buckled it into place. Then the other. Sitting on a stool, he had her put one foot at a time on his knee and repeated the process to each ankle. Standing, he hooked his finger through her day collar, the mostly decorative public sign of her submission, and towed her across the room to the sliding glass doors.
Stepping over the threshold, he pulled her into the three-season porch. Through screened windows on three sides, she could see the wooded ravine of a back yard. Above, the floor of the deck she had knelt on the previous week when Mariah had joined them. The windows were open, allowing a warm breeze and the sounds of nature to permeate the porch. Rustling leaves and the occasional bird calls fluttered in on the wind, mixing with the subtle music from the basement behind her. With the heat of the day, it was warmer here than inside, but her nipples remained hard and her skin goosed with anticipation when she saw what awaited her.
Two lengths of chain roughly six feet apart hung from ceiling to floor in the center of the room. Normally stored or hidden, they had been left in place after being used for play several days before. She also spotted a couple other items on the nearby table that made her shiver. Their relationship was getting serious. She was parking in the garage now and they didn’t bother putting everything away after play. Not that she minded. It made repeat performances more convenient.
Devon positioned her between the chains. He usually connected her higher up, stretching her to elongate her torso and accentuate her breasts, but this time he attached her cuffs to the chain at a more-comfortable height. They were using suspension cuffs, made of wide straps of leather bent and folded in such a way to minimize any strain caused by putting weight on her wrists. They hugged the width of the hand and crossed the palm rather than being secured only to the wrist.
Likewise, he attached her more ordinary leather ankle cuffs to the chain in a much less straining arrangement than last time. She couldn’t quite pull her feet together, nor touch her head or one hand with the other, but she was comfortable. She could probably stand there for hours, which worried her in a new way.
Retrieving them from the table, he quickly applied the last three items. A blindfold for her eyes, a large purple ball gag for her mouth, and a vibrating egg for her pussy, the last pressed home through her wetness with ease. It was already buzzing, but at such a low frequency, it would take forever to get her off. Combined with her comfortable posture, she sighed, resigned to spending the day in frustration, listening to the wind through the trees.
The control cord for the egg swung between her legs where Devon had released it, the temporary pendulum adding to the sensations within. Then he put his hand on the side of her face, and his lips graced the corners of hers mouth with a pair of kisses.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he said.
She attempted a muffled “Ha ha” through the gag, though it didn’t sound like that. But he didn’t answer. The next sound she heard was the door sliding definitively shut, cutting off what little she could hear of the music.
# # #
Mariah 2
It only took Mariah nine minutes to drive to his house, hitting all green lights on the way. She pulled into the driveway, disappointed to not see Bethany’s car. It was evidence, in her mind, that he would just be showing off his toys and not actually playing with her — she couldn’t picture him having an affair — and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Her stomach was in knots just being there. She very much wanted to experience the pleasure of the previous week, but wasn’t yet sure if she was ready for what lay ahead. Still, the thought that he didn’t have anything planned was a bit of a let down. Sure, it would be interesting seeing this “dungeon” he supposedly had, but….
When she arrived at the front door, she rang the bell and was rewarded, this time, with a normal doorbell tone. She examined the bay window, looking for the camera setup that had been there the previous week, but the sound of the inner door opening interrupted her inspection.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hi.”
He looked good, wearing a t-shirt and loose shorts — though not loose enough to hide a bulging package. It was not unlike what he had worn the previous week. Easy to get out of, she thought with a smile, hoping the back lighting of the sunny day masked her blush. “No Bethany today?”
He stepped aside and allowed her to enter. “She’s tied up with something right now. We might see her later.”
Mariah felt a tingle in her nethers as she stepped in. She was sure she had just heard a euphemism, and vowed to watch for her friend.
The house was different in the daylight. She had visited before, but always in the company of several, and had never spent time absorbing the space. And on her last visit, her focus was laser-thin, and her attention dominated by Devon’s naked body and the path to the bedroom. It was a pretty nice, modified split level house, well furnished and way too big for a bachelor.
The entry foyer connected seamlessly to the room on the right, behind the large bay window. There were no walls between the two, but under the peak of a fifteen foot vaulted ceiling stood an eight-foot wall that separated this front room from the kitchen. The dining table was back in its place, centered under a hanging light and blocking the path to the sliding glass door. This time, there was no naked Bethany kneeling on the deck beyond.
To her left, a small coat closet bordered the stairs up to the bedrooms. She unconsciously licked her lips as she recalled Devon descending, naked, his proud cock leading the way. She wondered if a climb might reveal her missing friend.
“Would you like something to drink?” said Devon, with a genial smile. “Or should we get straight to the tour?”
Tour! her guts screamed, though her mind said drink. She didn’t want to seem too eager. “What do you have?”
“Beer. Hard lemonade. Pop. Water. Just about anything.”
She knew alcohol was a bad idea, but her heart had been racing for the past twenty minutes. Just a little something to calm her nerves would be fine, right? “A Mike’s would be good.”
Devon spun on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen.
She followed, but not too quickly, arriving in time to see only his butt visible, sticking out as he bent at the waist behind the refrigerator door. She pursed her lips with impure thoughts, and casually leaned against his kitchen counter. The stack of dirty cookware and dishes next to the sink got her thinking again about Bethany. Her friend’s presence might be the safety blanket she needed for this adventure. Where is she?
A psssst grabbed her attention. Devon had emerged from the fridge and handed her an open bottle. His other hand held one of his own, though it looked half empty.
“It must be hot out again,” he said.
So benign. She was amused by discussing the weather in the face of why she was really here.
“Yes. Near ninety again.”
“I could tell. You look a little flushed.”
The rush of blood to her skin redoubled and she had to turn away lest she betray herself, even if that might come later. She stood with her back to him, looking for a distraction. Beyond the dining table, another half wall railing separated the kitchen from the large, sunken, main floor living room, its empty couch and chairs arranged toward a brick fireplace and entertainment center. But there was no Bethany there, either.
She startled when she felt his hand on her shoulder, and turned to see a sincere look on his face. “What?” she asked.
“You’re here for something outside of your comfort zone. I just want to make sure you know you can trust me.”
She was immediately more flustered at being revealed, even though there had been no false pretenses to hide behind. He was being direct, which turned her on. But the necessary next steps frightened her, and she hadn’t yet admitted their inevitability, even to herself.
“I know,” she said with a weak smile. The fact was, she did trust him. Even though she didn’t know exactly what she was getting into, she knew he did, and that was somehow comforting, if not quite enough to embrace it. After another minute with her hand now clutching his on her shoulder, the awkwardness dissipated.
He met her smile with his own and said, “Shall we take the tour?”
“Yes,” she croaked, then cleared her throat.
With a reassuring squeeze, Devon took his hand back and, with his beer in the other, stepped down to the living room and disappeared around a corner. The basement stairs awaited them there, she remembered. When she got to the top of the landing, he was already near the bottom, and quickly left her field of view. She paused for a moment, registering music floating up at her. It was time for another adventure. She descended the stairs with no one in sight. Only the carpeted basement floor awaited her.
Her anticipation built with the music — just loud enough for ambiance, which she decided was better than silence. She had expected to see major remodeling since their last group movie night, but found nothing of the sort. It was all the same, including the cool subterranean air. Goose bumps rose and her nipples puckered under her thin halter top. She couldn’t say for sure whether she had forgotten to expect it, or if she had planned for them to poke through.
Or maybe it wasn’t the temperature at all.
She crossed her arms and took in the space, searching for signs of a hidden dungeon. In the center of the room was a structural pillar wrapped in carpet. Straight ahead from the stairs, built-in bookshelves, two-deep, complete with two rolling units, covered the entire wall. It was like a legit library, and all of the shelves were filled with books. Rather, all of the shelves had books on them. She could tell there was space for more everywhere; Devon had given himself room to expand. The two rolling sections were pushed together in the middle, revealing an old component stereo set into the wall section to the left, the source of the music.
In front of the stereo, on the other side of the pillar from her, sat a full-sized pool table. It had a vinyl or leather cover on it and a padded filler so it could be used as a large flat surface. Around to the left, another short set of stairs led down to the theater below the sunken living room. The theater was currently dark, so she assumed the dungeon was that way. She looked at Devon, who stood behind the pool table, peeking between the closed curtains of the sliding door. He turned back to her wearing a knowing smirk.
Mariah started to speak, but had to swallow first. “The dungeon is down there?” she asked, indicating the theater. She held her place, not wanting to step into the den of the beast without knowing more.
“Nope,” said Devon.
She stared at him, not even trying to hide her confusion, and his smirk widened to a grin.
“It’s right here,” he said, spreading his arms to indicate their current room.
Mariah furrowed her brow and tipped her head slightly to one side. What he said didn’t make sense. She looked around again, intentionally making a slow pirouette as she searched again for signs of a dungeon she had missed. But there was nothing. No whips or chains. No wooden bondage furniture. No cages or restraints. It was just a basement library with a pool table. Even the decorations on the walls were benign signs of Devon’s various fandoms.
She finished her turn facing him, her face still scrunched in confusion.
Devon let out a little laugh. “I know, right?” he said. “Isn’t it wonderfully devious?”
Those were two words she wouldn’t have expected to hear together, but somehow, she knew they were correct.
“I don’t see it,” she said, stating the obvious.
“It’s right here,” he said, passing his hands over the surface of the pool table cover. “Look below the rails.”
She did. It was in the shadows, but sure enough, there were tails of rope tied around the thick legs of the billiards table. She stepped closer to get a better look, keeping the table between her and Devon. Under the pockets there were also mounts onto which ropes could be tied. Mariah conjured an image. Of her self lying on the table. Naked. Arms and legs stretched to the corners. Devon running his hands over her breasts and her mound.
She shivered as she stood, unconsciously crossing her legs, and took another drink to mask her distraction. “Okay, that’s one thing.”
Devon moved, stepping around the stereo end of the table. “There’s more. If you know where to look.” He continued to the pillar so the pool table was no longer a barricade, and reached up, gripping something on the far side.
She stepped closer, moving around to look but keeping the post between them. Near the top, he had two fingers looped through an eye-bolt or a hook of some sort, it’s steel glinting through his hand in the dim light.
“I think you can imagine what this might be used for.”
Was his voice always that soothing? she thought, ignoring his suggestive comment. She considered her observation and decided this wasn’t the Devon she had known from clubbing and group settings. He was more self-assured. Like he knew what he was doing. Warnings flashed in Mariah’s mind, but her desire suppressed them. This is what she came for. “Maybe,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you need a demonstration?”
God, yes. “Maybe later.” The wetness beneath her thin track shorts told her her mouth had betrayed her heart. And her loins.
“Maybe,” he repeated with some indifference. “What else can we do?” he asked, turning away.
Mariah wasn’t sure if she was supposed to respond. It sounded like he was trying to jar his own memory, but he could also have been baiting a trap. Indecision kept her silent.
He stepped to an open storage closet on the right and she heard, just before she saw, the hand full of chain he picked up. With one-inch links, it looked and sounded heavy. A brief bout of concern washed over her, but it quickly gave way to curiosity. He didn’t approach her, nor the post. Instead, he went to the space between the post and the book shelves. Stepping to his toes, he slipped the chain over two hooks screwed into the side of the structural beam. When he was done, two lengths hung to the ground.
“What do you think of this?” he asked, stepping casually back, toward the stereo.
Mariah was so close. Just another step. She could reach out and touch it.
She didn’t realize she had acted on that impulse until she felt the cold chain in her grip. She hugged her bottle to her chest with the other hand, lest it drop to the floor, realizing too late the effect the cold sweat of the glass would have on her thin halter. And her already puckered skin.
“It’s load bearing, too,” he said, bringing her back to the present. “Give it a tug, if you want.”
She considered, and figured “what the hell.” Handing her bottle to Devon, and thinking herself clever for tying up his hands, she stepped between the chains. Reaching up with one hand and then the other, she gripped it just above her head so her arms were almost, but not quite fully extended. She held on, gradually lifting herself up. Flexing her biceps and pulling harder, she felt… surprisingly exposed. Like her arms were no longer available to protect her body, even though all she had to do was let go. She looked down and saw her nipples pressing sharp peaks against her halter. The fabric rubbed ever so slightly as she gave her weight fully to the chains.
“That’s hot,” said Devon.
She let go quickly and crossed her arms. The hasty move didn’t quite cover her nipples, but she was too embarrassed at being caught in her own fantasy to adjust, lest she draw more attention to them. Her eyes avoided his, instead landing on the noticeably larger bulge in the front of his shorts. Blood pounded in her veins as it raced to her face and neck.
She didn’t know what she was so afraid of. She knew exactly what she thought about his dungeon, and she was pretty sure he knew what she thought as well. They had already had an encounter, so it wasn’t like this was new territory. Only it was. It was something she had never done before. But, just like her last adventure, she couldn’t come up with any reason it was bad. Still, she remained reluctant to jump in with both feet.
“It is!” he said. “Hot.” As if he needed to clarify. He took a drink. But instead of handing her bottle back, Devon turned and set both on the covered pool table. He stepped to the bookcase. “Now I want to show you my favorite part of the dungeon.” He pushed the rolling sections apart, leaning into the weight of each. Behind them, he revealed more bookcase. Only, this section was empty, save for a dark ring in the lower center of the back wall. Not even shelves spanned the space. It was like a hollow secret, completely undetectable behind the rolling sections. She had seen books there before, she was sure of it. A glance at the stacked boxes in the corner suggested her memory was sound, and made her wonder why he had cleared it out.
As if to answer the question, Devon held out an inviting hand to her. “Would you like to see how this is part of the dungeon?”
Him saying the words put an edge to her curiosity. She knew there was a catch, but she couldn’t see what it was. There were no hooks or holes in the frame, other than those needed for the adjustable shelves. Despite guessing it was probably a trap, she took his hand.
He led her to the case and encouraged her to step into it, within the frame. He released her hand and placed his on her hips, gently guiding her to the center of the space, facing out, with her back against the wall. She noted the case was deep enough for her to stand straight and be well behind the plane of the rolling sections. She could hide here, if she wanted. It was another titillating thought for a time when she was more in control. For she realized, at the moment, she wasn’t.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
She hesitated, and he waited. She had whole heartedly enjoyed her experience the previous weekend, even though it had not been something she had ever considered doing. But that was the point, she decided. Take a chance. Try something new and enjoy the experience.
“Yes,” she said, in but a whisper. It was all she could muster.
He tipped his head forward, piercing her with his dominant eyes, demanding something more out of her.
“Yes, sir,” she said again, this time with her full voice. She wasn’t sure where the “sir” came from, but it seemed appropriate. And it put a smile on his face.
“Stand up straight,” he said. And she did, putting her arms rigidly at her side.
He reached to the left. From the thin space behind the rolling section, he retrieved a bookshelf, like what should have been where she stood. He lifted and turned it and she glimpsed a difference. This shelf had been cut out. Three curved sections on one edge were missing, the middle one sizable, but the two outer ones rather small. And each of the cutouts was lined with some sort of padding, though she hadn’t discerned what it was made of before it disappeared from view.
Under her chin.
Her curiosity had distracted her and she didn’t realize where the shelf was going until it rested on her shoulders.
“Put your hands up on each side,” he said. “And slouch a little.”
Numbly, she did, still in a daze about what was happening. He guided each hand into a cutout in the shelf, and the soft fabric of the padding caressed her skin as he held it against the back wall. She heard four clicks in rapid succession, and Devon stepped back.
Mariah looked to the side and saw two slide bolts on each end of the shelf in line with the row of adjustable peg holes. She could turn her head just fine — the center cutout didn’t exert any pressure, though she couldn’t quite stand up fully straight, and she couldn’t look down or see anything below Devon’s waist. She wriggled her wrists and found them held snuggly by the oak board. The pressure on her wrists was gentle, but when she tried to slide them out, she could not.
She was trapped.
She moved her feet around, trying to find a placement that wouldn’t leave her burning out her thigh muscles, but also not leaving her hanging from her neck and wrists. Stepping forward didn’t work as the bookcase was a couple inches above the floor. She could touch her toes there, but not support any weight. The only option she had was to spread her feet just wider than shoulder width. Even then, she pressed against the ungiving shelf.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“Mentally or physically?” she asked in desperate diversion.
“Both,” he said, his voice and eyes serious.
She thought about it a moment before responding. Physically, she could handle the position for a while. It was just standing. But mentally, she was a wreck. The thought of being immobilized and at someone’s mercy terrified her. But that was the point, she told herself, not for the first time. Experiencing new things and exploring her limits. She was anxious, maybe even frightened, but so far within limits.
“Comfortable enough,” she finally responded.
He grunted liked he wasn’t convinced, but nodded. Then he stooped over and disappeared from her view. She heard wood against wood, and saw a tease of motion over the edge of the shelf. A hand tapped her ankle. “A hair wider,” he said. She shifted, rocking her feet out until they were as wide as her hands and her chin rested on the shelf. Her neck stretched, and what mobility she had evaporated. “Good,” he said.
Her suspicions of what was coming next were confirmed when a second cut-out shelf pressed against her ankles. Four mechanical clicks later, they were locked in place with her legs spread obscenely wide. As he stood, she wondered if he was going to molest her now. Or fuck her. Whichever he did, she hoped he wouldn’t cut her clothes off to do it. Though, she noted, her nipples were as hard as they had ever been, and her pussy as wet. Maybe it would be okay if he cut her clothes.
The extra level of immobility brought tension to her muscles as she didn’t yet trust the wood to support her. It was worse than last time. At least in the handcuffs and chain on his porch, she could move around a bit. In the stress, the cold of the basement was replaced by the warmth of constant exertion, and her skin began to glisten with perspiration.
Devon disappeared again below her view. Her butt against the back of the case felt an irregular knocking as she heard metal connecting with metal. He occasionally brushed the insides of her spread thighs, but not intentionally. Whatever he was doing was not directly to her. When he stood, he grinned at his handy work, a mystery that stoked her anxieties.
Finally — she couldn’t believe she was impatient for it — he touched her. His hands were hot against her skin. He started at her waist and gently caressed her through her thin clothing. She had never imagined such flimsy garments as a halter and track shorts would be “in the way” of anything. He touched her belly. Her ribs. Then he was gone, returning to her forearms and up her biceps. Across her collarbone. Finally he brushed his hands down her breasts, rubbing his palms in circles over her covered nipples.
They slipped to the side where he doused her with cold water by gently tickling her armpits.
She writhed for the few seconds it lasted, but her ability to predict what came next was shaken. That he could mix pleasure with… something else, confused her. She didn’t know what to expect.
“That’s enough for now, I think.” She pouted, earning more words from him. “I can see the conflict in your eyes. You haven’t convinced yourself that you want me to go further.” When she tried to protest, he shooshed her with a finger to her lips. “Don’t make me gag you.” She ceased her protests, digesting the new threat, unsure if he meant it, half hoping he did.
“You need to see what you’re signing up for before you can truly give your consent.” He put his hands on her waist and, as he explained it to her, he pulled her hips forward barely an inch, pressing her pussy into something solid. “I have left you a present. Something to play with, should you feel the urge with what happens next.” He looped an electrical wire over her right hand, then closed her fingers around a small dial, like the dimmer switch for a light. When she heard a click, her nether lips and clitoris erupted with sensation as the powerful vibrator she was pressed against came to life. She yanked her hips back, away from the menace, slamming her butt against the back wall.
With fingers to his lips this time, urging quiet, Devon slowly moved the rolling sections of the bookcase in front of her. Gradually, her field of view narrowed to barely an inch, and only the comforting expression on the visible sliver of his face stemmed a rising tide of panic.
Confusion reigned as she wondered which of these things was “what happens next,” or if there was still more to come.
# # #
Bethany 2
Bethany wondered if anyone was watching.
She could probably have used her bicep to push the blindfold off her eyes, but quickly shooed that thought away. She didn’t want to spoil her excitement, though she was not any closer to coming than she had been, what, an hour ago? A half hour? It was hard to tell when deprived of her senses. Her pussy was so wet the egg was at risk of falling out, and fatigue had built from clenching it closed. Her jaw didn’t ache around the gag, though, so that put the time a little shorter. Still, this was definitely one of Devon’s more devious plans.
The sharp release of a door gasket and the reemergence of music startled her. She turned her head right and left, a bat trying to echo locate the visitor in her space. She thought she heard footsteps, but it was hard to be sure with the continuous white noise of nature coming through the screens.
A shiver shot up her spine, strong enough to make her whole body undulate. Goosebumps returned. Her nipples puckered. It was only after the sensation peaked and her limited senses returned to normal that she was able to identify the light, feather-like touches to her nipples. Devon had returned.
Or, at least, she hoped it was Devon.
Though… she had to admit, the idea of being teased by someone else set her stomach a fluttering.
“Hello, pet,” Devon said, his breath close to the side of her face.
She grunted a greeting through her gag.
His body pressed against hers. A moment later her left hand fell, again under her own control. The right soon followed. He stepped back and said, “Stretch a little. Touch your toes.”
She bent forward, keeping legs straight. His steps were just loud enough to tell her he had moved around behind her. She blushed, and blushed harder at his appreciative, “MmmMmm.” Then she gasped when he yoinked the egg out of her pussy, leaving a hungry gape in its wake.
“Now squat,” he said, before she could complain.
Her ankles had not been released, so the action was a little more difficult, and a little more lewd, than it might normally have been. She was sure that was intentional. Still, she appreciated the opportunity to move her limbs.
“Up,” he said after maybe a minute.
He detached the chains from her ankle cuffs, and again hooked his finger into her day collar and towed her into the basement.
The cooler air was refreshing after the heat of the porch. The music was louder, too, and more comforting than the vastness of nature. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard something hidden within the music. A low-frequency humming only audible during the quiet parts. What it might have been stumped her as she couldn’t get a lock on it.
Devon closed the door behind her, then tugged her forward. After several tentative blind steps, she bumped into another hanging chain, one that wasn’t there before. Its cold links rested against her skin for a moment before he used her shoulders to turn her around to face the porch. Knowing what was coming, she raised her arms before Devon asked for them. But unlike the comfortable position she had been put in on the porch, this time he connected her suspension cuffs high up on the chain.
Her torso stretched and her skin goosed, and she knew it would only get worse. His hands tapped the inside of each ankle until her feet were well wider than her shoulders. She felt a thrill as she pictured herself in her blindness, her body in the shape of a giant “X.” When he attached her ankle fetters to the chain, he left her alone for a few moments, so she tested her bonds.
Chaining her ankles to the ceiling, as they were, was a deceptive restraint. She could swing her legs forward and back, and stretch wider, if she wanted. But if she tried to close her legs, the pendulum arc of the chain forced her up on her toes to where she couldn’t reach the ground with a flat foot. And that only allowed for six or eight inches of closure. Any more and not even her toes would touch. It gave her the illusion of choice in spreading her legs.
His hands were on her, then. Touching her all over. Rubbing up her flanks and ribs and over her breasts. Caressing her neck. Tracing her collarbone. Teasing the skin of her arms. Running over her stomach and down her hips and between her thighs and, oh yes, up to where they met. He warmed her mons with his palm and slipped a finger between her lips, just as his mouth engulfed her left nipple.
There was a gasp. She didn’t doubt it was her own, but she didn’t remember doing it. Squeals of delight escaped around her gag as the tip of his finger probed deep inside her, then traced against the inner walls and back to where her clitoris stood ready. Gently rubbing. Stroking. Her nipple was drawn into his mouth and teased by his tongue. She threw her head back in ecstasy, forcing the gag deeper between her jaws.
And then he was gone.
She growled at the void of sensation. Her body quivered in its bonds, trying to find the errant hands. The chains rattled around her. Her feet slid back and forth on the thick carpet, searching for more stable footing.
She heard something she couldn’t identify. Like a leather jacket rubbing against itself. Then she smelled it. And felt it. Tickling across her breasts, over her shoulder and up her arm. And across her upper back to the other side. She hadn’t seen it, but she and Devon had talked about it.
It had to be a flogger.
She gripped the extended straps of her suspension cuffs, bracing for a sensation she didn’t know. Anticipation built. Her muscles tightened as she strained at her bonds.
Finally, the blow arrived.
She yelped, a gurgled complaint through the gag. Heat covered her back as her skin protested. But it wasn’t as bad as she had expected. As her imagination had foretold. Subsequent blows added intensity to her nervous system, some across her back, some to her buttocks.
And all too quickly, it was over. It took several moments for her body to relax, and for her feet to return to the ground. She hadn’t even realized she had pulled herself up, and her arms screamed from the strain. She wasn’t sure, but had it really only been five blows? Her labored breath continued as Devon’s hands caressed the places of… not quite pain. Gradually the heat dissipated as his gentle touch continued.
He wrapped his hands around her, pressing his now naked body against her back. She hadn’t even realized he had stripped, but she was glad for the skin on skin contact. And she could tell he was too by the way his intruder pressed against the cleft of her cheeks. She grinned, such as she could with her filled mouth.
“Did you like that?” Devon whispered in her ear. She hesitated, and in the silence he reassured her. “Maybe more another time.” She liked the thought of giving her body some time to decide.
His hands continued roaming in his embrace from behind. Over her breasts and belly. Down to her mound and into the gap between her legs. His left hand remained there while his embrace uncoiled from the other side. Soon, it was the only point of contact.
Then there was a click. The buzzing that had been in the back of her mind since coming in from the porch redoubled. Became more distinct. Her body again tensed, this time in anticipation for something she knew. Something she craved.
His hand was joined and replaced by the head of the vibrator pressing against lips and her mons. And her clitoris. The intake of air through her nose and around her gag was as sudden as it was involuntary. And then it reversed to become a throaty moan of desire.
Devon maintained the pressure, varying the intensities to tease out her enjoyment. It worked. Her body responded by building into a throbbing, rapturous mass of pleasure. Her focus was on the orgasm she knew was coming, but the edges of her senses felt him shifting around. Something squeezed her hips, hugging them, and then the weight of it became one with the pressure of the vibrator. Devon had somehow attached a strap to hold the torturous device in place without his guidance. She thrust her hips, testing, and the pressure from the vibe swung with her, and a little more. It was oh so good now, but she would not be able to escape it once she came. The after orgasm sensations would be excruciating, and she tried to hold back. To stave off the inevitable.
Then his hand returned, gliding over her buttocks. Sliding between the cheeks. Fingering her lips and pressing into her hole. She arched her back to give him the access she wanted him to have, even as the motion rocked the vibe too and fro against her clitoris. Her back arched and unarched, undulating in a futile attempt to hold the vibrator in the right spot.
When his right hand withdrew, she whimpered. And she heard a whimper that echoed her own. His right hand returned, but this time guiding his rigid member into the cleft between her legs. She arched again, as hard as she could to give it the right angle. Her toes nearly left the ground as she pulled herself up. Her stomach and rib cage stretched to accommodate the position.
His penis slid in to the hilt with the slap of skin on skin. As the vibrator slid on and off the spot, his thrusting pounded in time with her heart. Their rhythm synced and she screamed behind the gag as the orgasm consumed her reality.
# # #
Mariah 3
Mariah only had to wait a couple minutes before she found out what was really coming next. She bit her lip and shifted her head side to side, as much as her confines would allow, in order to see Bethany dominate her narrow field of view.
She was naked and glorious, being led forward by Devon’s finger through the front loop of the thick necklace she always wore. Her breasts, larger than Mariah’s, preceded the rest of her body until she collided with the chain hanging from the ceiling. She was blindfolded and had a large purple ball in her mouth, held in place by a strap around her neck. A ball gag, Mariah realized, giving shape to Devon’s earlier threat. It was the closest she had ever come to wearing one. Wide leather cuffs sporting metal rings were buckled onto her wrists and ankles.
Mariah shivered.
As she watched Devon run his hands all over Bethany, her own body reacted. Despite being pinned in the frame of the bookcase, her muscles contracted and her body reached for the hand, imagining herself in place of her friend, craving for him to be touching her instead. As she pushed her pelvis toward the phantom hand, she instead found the forgotten vibrator. She gasped and recoiled, earning a knowing grin and a scolding shoosh from Bethany’s assailant.
Chagrined, her own heat retreated for a moment. But watching Devon and Bethany was intoxicating, and she couldn’t long resist the temptation. Cautiously, she explored the space in front of her clothed pussy, wishing it wasn’t so. With a tentative touch, she located the device, and found it’s vibrations not as unpleasing as her first encounter.
She tested. Arching her back to press against it while manipulating the control dial in her hand, she found she could experience a wide range of pleasure. The unexpectedness of the device, alone, rewarded her with a small orgasm. She knew there would be more, as long as Devon’s imagination continued to provide stimulation.
However, when he walked into view again, she shivered. Though he was naked, and his left hand pulled at his awakening cock, Mariah’s attention was glued to the multi-tailed whip in his right hand. She anxiously watched him tease Bethany with the flogger, part of her brain conjured, and inhaled sharply with each of the five blows. Initially aghast at the flogging, she watched Devon follow up with gently caressing and kissing Bethany’s skin. His tenderness and her lack of distress tipped Mariah’s confusion into a tentative new arousal. She leaned into her vibrator imagining how the mix of pain and pleasure might feel. She turned up the dial and soon rocked against her wooden confinement with another orgasm.
But still, she wanted more.
She opened her eyes again and was surprised to find Devon holding a vibrator in one hand, and his rigid penis in the other. As he stroked himself, he applied the vibe to Bethany’s bare skin, dragging it across her tits and belly before finally holding it to her sex. Mariah was transfixed watching Bethany’s ragged and labored breathing under his ministrations. When Devon reached between Bethany’s legs from behind, her body bent and then convulsed as the vibrator swung back and forth. Mariah could only imagine her frustration at not being able to control where and how it made contact. She savored her friend’s misfortune and smugly took advantage of her mounted vibe and watched as Devon guided his now impressive member into Bethany from behind.
Bethany’s body arched, as much as it could in her bonds, and her hips rotated to align with his penis. His thrusting increased and Mariah could tell Bethany was getting close to coming. With her feet pulled off the ground, Bethany finally wailed in ecstasy, writhed for a few moments, and then went mostly slack with euphoric oblivion.
But Devon wasn’t done.
As he gripped Bethany’s hips and redoubled his thrusting, Mariah couldn’t help herself. Her limbs strained for unattainable freedom and her pelvis pressed forward into the vibe. When her final orgasm came, her loud, throaty panting was surely audible to Devon and Bethany. But the latter appeared still unaware of her surroundings, and the former was locked in his own orgasm, holding himself deep inside Bethany as his seed throbbed into her.
For upwards of a minute, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing and the background music she had all but forgotten. Devon hugged and kissed the limp Bethany until her head began to wobble with awareness. He looked at Mariah for a minute with something between concern and curiosity on his face. She answered with desire and amazement. She might have given a subtle but reassuring nod, because he returned his attentions to the now conscious Bethany.
After a few whispered words, she nodded. He removed her gag, but not her blindfold, and they passionately kissed for several moments before he unbuckled the vibrator and stooped to detach her ankles. Once she had her wobbly legs under her, he braced his shoulder under her armpit, held onto her waist with one hand, and popped the quick release shackle on one suspension cuff. Bethany’s arm draped across his back, then wrapped around his neck and hung on for support. When he popped the second safety release, her other arm joined the first. With another quick glance over his shoulder at Mariah, he scooped up Bethany’s legs and carried her up the stairs.
Leaving Mariah bound in place.
She had several minutes to think about her predicament. She trusted that he would return to release her, but she wasn’t sure how long that would be. It might take some time for him to tuck Bethany in, or whatever it was he was doing. Making sure she was okay, at least. She appreciated that, and it made her more comfortable with being under his control.
She tested the vibrator again, leaning against it and varying the speed, but her own body was spent. She could barely feel it through an odd numbness, and what she could feel almost hurt. Each successive orgasm had taken more energy from her, though, and she thought she might pass out for real the next time. But there was enough fire coursing through her subconscious that she knew, if she was forced to, there was another orgasm deep within her. She elected instead to calmly wait for Devon’s return. But the longer she waited, the less calm she was.
Finally, she heard him thumping down the stairs. He was still nude when he appeared between the two rolling book cases. Back lit by the room as he widened the gap, his naked frame loomed dramatically in front of her.
“How are you?” he asked, a little too nonchalant.
“Fine,” she lied. Though she was clothed and he wasn’t, she felt the more exposed in her bound position.
But he didn’t take advantage of that. Before she could beg for release, he knelt, unmounted the vibrator with a few clunks, and freed her ankles. He stood and placed the lower pillory to the side, and a few clicks later, the second shelf was gone.
Mariah stood there, numb, not even closing her legs all the way. She gently rubbed her wrists alternately, holding both up in front of her chest. Almost like she wanted them between her and Devon.
But Devon had already moved on. He stepped to the side and began to don the clothes he had discarded. Or, at least, he pulled on the shorts and t-shirt. The rest he held in a bundle.
“Where’s Bethany,” Mariah asked. “Is she okay?”
He smiled. “She’s exhausted, but fine. She’s laying in my bed right now, recovering.” After another moment he asked, “Do you want to come up and say hi? She doesn’t know you’re here.”
This last part shocked Mariah, both because she hadn’t expected her presence to be a secret, and because she thought she had made enough noise in her final orgasm to wake the dead. But she hesitated. If Bethany didn’t know she had been there, would she be embarrassed to find out?
“I don’t think so,” she finally said.
“Maybe next time,” he replied, more sincerely than she would have expected. “I know she would be happy to share her recovery bed with you.”
“Maybe next time,” Mariah echoed with a weak smile.
Definitely next time, she said to herself.
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