© Copyright 2005 - Pleasewrap - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/m; MF/f; game; bond; cuffs; chain; slave; armbinder; gag; bfold; tease; toys; denial; climax; cons; X
Chapter Nine - Forced Labour
I’m dreaming of being at game seven of the World Series, rooting on my Cubs as they enter the bottom of the ninth up by four runs. The Yankees are starting with the top of their lineup, but Letroy Hawkins has been unhittable in the series, so I’m confident and trying hard not to celebrate. I go to pick up my beer, but I seem to be having trouble moving my arms to pick it up. Then I feel a hand at my crotch and I know it’s not mine. As I look down, suddenly noticing the straight jacket that seems to have magically appeared about me, I wake up…
...and feel Lydia as she sits on my thighs, toying with my penis and bringing him back to life. I’d bet dollars to donuts that she’s smiling as she does, and I can hear her laugh a little bit as I stir under her and start to move my head about, failing to knock the blindfold from my face. I hum a little bit as the sleep fades, and I’m about to speak when I remember that I’m under strict orders not to do so unless I’m permitted – the cost of being allowed to take a nap – in exchange for not being gagged.
“Are you suitably rested? It’s getting a bit late and I was thinking about getting dinner ready.”
Her voice has that “touch of evil” to it that Lydia somehow manages to put in when she’s in mistress mode. Regardless of what she says or how she says it, there’s an air of “I don’t care, I’m just torturing you more” to it.
I open my mouth to speak, then think better of it and noticeably close it. She laughs as she slips one hand between my thighs to rub my skin as the other continues lightly moving up and down my growing erection. Regardless of how I might have answered the question, he’s obviously received sufficient rest.
“You can speak my poor, tired slave. I think you’ve been kept quiet enough.”
“I’m much improved, yes. How long was I out?”
I could picture her bending over as I felt her breath on my penis. She was close enough that her lips brushed against me once or twice as she did, and I twitched each time.
“About an hour and a half. It’s almost four now. I thought I might let you shower and make me dinner. What good is having a slave if you can’t put him to work?”
Her hand wrapped around my member and began to move up and down slowly and deliberately. I struggled in my bonds, cuffs still firmly affixed to my legs, groaned, and said, “Why do I think that I’m about to get worked over right now?”
Her laugh reached my ears, light and playful, and I couldn’t help but smile myself. The attention to my manhood continued, though Lydia moved off of me. She sat next to me and a momentary pause in the motion of her hand told me she was concentrating on something else. Then the motion resumed and I felt her lie down next to me.
“My slave isn’t upset, is he?”
I “looked” towards her, trying not to breathe too hard in response to her question, working at putting a stern look at my face. I also forced myself to stop moving, having noticed that my hips had gotten a mind of their own. I pouted and said, “You cheated.”
The motion of her hand stopped and she withdrew it. I suddenly regretted saying it, afraid that I’d spoiled the fun, true as it might be. Then I felt her shift so that her body rested against me and I could feel her chest moving slightly up and down against me. I was about to ask if she was crying when I heard a little chuckle finally escape.
“Well, you should have been suspicious when I picked the game, you big dope. And even more suspicious when you lost all the big bets while I was dealing.”
I suddenly felt very stupid. She’d been rigging the deck somehow and I, the poker lover, never even suspected it. I frowned and was about to scold her when the ridiculousness of the entire situation finally hit me. I tried to remain stern and angry, but I started to laugh.
“I really am a sucker, huh? How’d you manage to fix the deck?”
She kissed my cheek and her hand started gently brushing my nether regions again. I could feel the smile on her face as she did, then she rested her head on my shoulder and said, “Oh, you can thank Jane for that, too. She learned how to fake shuffle and control a couple of cards in college. She had a boyfriend that liked strip poker and she got tired of losing to him. So when there were some cards I thought I might like at the end of a hand, I kept ‘em where they’d do me some good.”
“So next time we play, it’s a mechanical shuffler,” I said, then I rolled over towards her. She shifted her position, drawing away from me.
“And what does my slave think he’s doing?”
I ignored her and kept moving towards her until my head bumped against her. I moved about until I encountered her bra. I kissed her nipple through it and said, “I thought I should reward my mistress for the thoroughness of her planning.”
She laughed and pushed me over on my back again. Her hands pinned my shoulders down as she straddled me and I suddenly realized what she’d been up to when the action had paused – her favorite bullet had been put in place. It had a programmable remote that would run one of a number of programs (I think it was seven) for a variety of patterns. It must have been on the consistently low-powered setting, since I couldn’t even hear it going. But she’d sat so that she was in contact with my erection, and I could feel the vibration slightly through her.
Suddenly, she slid down onto my legs, causing me to pout, and pulled up on my arms. I obliged by sitting up, and she scooted me backwards until I contacted pillows that would make it easier for me to remain sitting. Then her body returned to mine and I felt a nipple come into contact with my lips. I “obeyed” and began kissing, licking and nibbling. She responded enthusiastically, and reached down and behind her for my member to keep me in the mood.
“How could I not want you like this for the weekend?” Her voice was a whisper, but full of excitement and lust. “Besides, you’ve always liked being tied up just a bit more than doing the tying, Ray.”
I had to agree with that, but stuck with the task I’d been assigned rather than speaking. I think she changed programs on her vibrator at some point because her breathing became even heavier and she occasionally seemed to crush her breast into me.
It finally hit a point where she decided it was time to stop “playing around,” though she didn’t say anything to me. One minute I was stimulating her breast and the next she was off me and, based on the feeling of the motion, off the bed. I was about to complain when her hands grabbed my feet and dragged me back to a prone position. She re-mounted me and we continued to ecstasy together.
When we’d finished, she lay on top of me and whispered, “If I take off the straightjacket, will you behave? You could probably use a shower.”
I grinned wickedly and said, “You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”
She slid off me and rolled me over. I felt straps being loosened on the back and the zipper started to come down, only to stop halfway down my back. I wondered what she was up to when I felt her straddle me over my shoulders, pinning my arms to my sides even though they were still in the sleeves and the strap in front was still done tightly.
“Then I think I won’t take too many chances.”
I struggled, but she was in a good position – her weight pushed me down onto my arms and there wasn’t enough slack for me to free them yet. She slid the zipper all the way down and undid the strap for the arms in back. I started to try to free them from under me, but apparently she was holding the straps firmly in her hands because I couldn’t move them far enough.
Through a combination of using the straps and her weight, she managed to get one of my arms loose behind me and into a handcuff. Then the other followed and she’d managed to keep me trapped. Only then did she get off me and remove the blindfold. She was grinning like the cat that had eaten the proverbial canary.
“Now let’s clean you up,” she said as she removed the ankle and thigh cuffs.
My shower was uneventful, though I tried hard to make it otherwise since she had joined me to apply soap and shampoo. Just a bit of teasing on her part, and a whole lot of attempting accidental physical contact on mine. I’d accepted that my lovely wife had decided she wanted me under her power for the weekend, and decided that payback, when it came, would be sweet. She toweled me off, which was almost more fun than the shower, and then replaced the handcuffs with leather ones with a six inch chain connecting them, putting the new ones on before removing the old.. I figured she wanted my hands available to make dinner, and after she released the handcuffs, I stepped over the chain to make them available. She smiled when I was done, kissed me, and then dragged me back to the bedroom.
“I want you properly dressed,” she said. “And I want it done fast, mister.” There was something in the way she was rushing that made me think something was up. Then it hit me.
“Jane’s coming over, isn’t she?”
She frowned at me, partly because I stopped moving, partly because I’d figured her out. Then she giggled.
“Yes. She wants to borrow a dress for a date tonight and will be here in about thirty minutes. I’ve already got the dress out and you can hide in here if you like. But she knows what’s going on, you won’t be naked or humiliated if you don’t do it yourself, and she’s tied you up once herself already. So I doubt that seeing you in cuffs will be too much of a shock to her.”
I sighed and walked with her into the bedroom closet, where I grabbed shorts and a T-shirt. I was about to head for the chest and grab some underwear when she stopped me. “You don’t need those. Take these.”
She threw me the ridiculous thong she’d bought for me once. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, but it the front was made to look like a tuxedo shirt and jacket, complete with bow tie. I’m not fond of thongs (at least, not on me), so it didn’t see much use unless we were in the bedroom, and then it usually wasn’t on all that long. I glared at her, and she just smiled. “My rules, hun. You know I love having access to that tush of yours.”
The thong was followed by a white tank top, which I thought was a bit odd. I turned it over and you couldn’t miss the word “Slave” across the front of the shirt from 200 feet away. Then I noticed that the shoulders didn’t look quite right and quickly discovered why – they’d been neatly cut and had Velcro sewn onto them. I could put it on and take it off without ever being released from my cuffs. I laughed and shook my head while Lydia just stood there and smiled. She’d been even more thorough than I’d thought.
In for a penny, in for a pound. I put on the ridiculous, uncomfortable thong and went back to the bathroom to shave. The chain from the cuffs made life more interesting than usual, but didn’t present any insurmountable problems. When I came back to the bedroom, Lydia was dressed and sitting at the computer, checking her e-mail. She had obviously chosen her wardrobe carefully, wearing a pair of tight shorts and a T-shirt that had been cut-off just below her bust. She sometimes called this her “Streetwalker Ensemble,” and usually wore it when she wanted to get me interested and wasn’t sure that was going to happen. And that outfit worked a very large percentage of the time.
I went to show my appreciation for her selection, but she’d heard me come back in, stood, and danced away.
“Get dressed, you goon. You’ll get to show your appreciation when I decide the time is right.”
I frowned at her, but quickly complied. I undid the Velcro from the tank top and slid it over my head, then put on my shorts. I was about to head out to the kitchen to figure out dinner when Lydia said, “You’re not done yet. Sit down.”
I started to look at her a little funny, then noticed the ankle and thigh cuffs she’d retrieved from the bed. More chains and locks made it clear that I was going to be hobbled. I grinned and sat down.
“Going whole hog, are we?” I said as she locked the cuffs on and then started attaching the chains. She looked up at me and smiled.
“Can’t have you running away on me, can I? And don’t bother looking for the backup keys – I moved them and doubt you’d be able to get at them where you are.”
As a precaution, we’ve always kept a second set of keys tucked away in a lock box behind the computer monitor in the bedroom. Not particularly easy to get at, but that was for occasions just like this one. I figured she’d probably tucked them into the air duct where I’d hidden them once while keeping her chained up for an evening. You couldn’t reach them unless you could stretch out one arm around a bend in the ductwork, and with a chain between your hands, you just couldn’t do that.
“So you want Jane to see your triumph no matter what, do you? Not very nice adding humiliation to slavery.”
Lydia finished locking the chain between my thigh cuffs, then stood and gave me a long kiss. I started to raise my hands towards her, but she grabbed the chain and kept me from touching her. She broke off the kiss and smiled.
“I told you that you could hide in here if you wanted. She’ll rib you a bit if you let her see you, but it’s not like she’s about to snap photos for the paper. Now go and get the chicken going. I’m starving.”
I moved as rapidly as the eight inch chain between my feet would allow, heading for the kitchen. The preparations were complicated by my cuffed condition, but not seriously hampered. Lydia sat in the kitchen and watched, occasionally making comments about how it was hard to find good help and she doubted she’d be leaving a tip. I did my best to ignore her, but couldn’t help throwing a glare her way after one of her comments or a lusty look at her in her wonderfully-revealing outfit when I got a chance. I did decide to play along, though, and didn’t respond to the various barbs and arrows that were flung my way.
As I breaded chicken and tossed salad, I also thought about whether or not I’d “hide” when Jane did arrive. She was due any minute and I wasn’t quite sure what to think. I’ve never broadcast my interest in bondage, treating it as a private matter between myself and my partner, which had pretty much been just Lydia. While I knew that it was more popular than most “average Americans” suspected, there was still a stigma attached to it in the eyes of many, and I wasn’t interested in picking up another one of those. I was already smart, nerdy, and relatively un-athletic. I didn’t see a need to add to the list by being outside of sexual norms as well.
Maybe that’s helping to maintain the stereotype, but I’m not Martin Luther King or Gandhi. Just a normal guy looking to lead a normal life in the way that I choose. Which made Jane’s pending arrival an interesting question. She had accepted Lydia & my mutual kink and wasn’t a gossip. Hell, she’d even left me as a present for my wife in a very bound and helpless state. So I decided that seeing me in cuffs and a silly tank top wouldn’t be the end of the world and that we’d probably get some laughs out of it.
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. I headed for the bedroom as Lydia went to the door. She frowned at me and whispered, “Chicken.”
I stuck my tongue out her and whispered back, “It might not be Jane, you meanie.” She laughed, but accepted that I might be right and peeped through the spy hole in the door. Then she stuck her tongue out at me and let Jane in.
I’ve said that Lydia is attractive, but not a Helen of Troy type of beauty. Jane’s closer to that than Lydia, particularly when she decides to shine. And she’d decided to shine tonight. Her hair was done up in a French braid and she’d obviously spent some time on her makeup. She wore tight jeans and a plain, tight, white t-shirt that showed off her assets in a way that guaranteed interest. She stepped through the door, saw me, and burst out laughing.
“Thanks. Good to see you, too.”
“Sorry, Ray. She’d told me what she had planned, but I wasn’t expecting the tank top. It matches your accessories nicely.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but Lydia put a finger to her lips, which had an enormous smile, and then she pushed Jane down the hall towards the dining area.
“He needs to get back to dinner, Jane, so leave him alone. You look like you’re just about ready. Rushing?”
I contemplated letting the two of them pass me, but decided I’d have a little fun and made them troop along behind me and my chain-shortened steps. Lydia laughed and swatted my behind.
“Get moving, you. I want dinner on the table in twenty minutes.”
I shuffled more rapidly, looking a great deal like an old man running in an old silent movie.
“He seems pretty obedient, Lydia. And it’s so hard to get good help these days,” Jane was laughing again. I finally reached a point where they could pass me, and they did. Lydia took advantage of the moment to squeeze my butt as she walked by.
I glared/grinned at Jane now that I could see her and said, “One of these days, I’ll just have to help you get ready for a boyfriend.”
She laughed as she inspected the dress Lydia had laid out on one of the chairs – sheer black material with a few silver threads shot through it. “Could I get him to bring me a glass of wine? I need to change, but could use some refreshment.”
Jane was enjoying this a bit too much, so I was about to object when Lydia came over and kissed me. She whispered in my ear, “She’s just nervous. It’s an old boyfriend from college and she usually responds to stress with humor.” Then she kissed me.
I decided I loved my wife more than I’d love ticking off her best friend and that I’d let it slide. I started working on the cork for a bottle of Chardonnay while the women went into the bedroom so that Jane could change. I set out the glasses on the table, and went back to tending to dinner. After a few minutes, Jane and Lydia returned for their wine, Jane looking positively ravishing.
Dinner had hit a point where it was just a waiting game for the chicken to finish in the oven, so I asked for and received permission to go read the paper. Jane and Lydia were chatting about her date (Jason someone-or-other, I didn’t recognize the name). Apparently he’d been living in the area for a while and a local gathering of our college’s alumni association had resulted in he and Jane getting reacquainted. I personally didn’t care all that much, and Jane and Lydia were wrapped up in the conversation
Now, Lydia has a bit of a bad habit that she constantly says she’ll find a way to kick and always fails when she does – she loves playing with something in her hands when she’s not doing something else. A pencil, pen, knife, paperclip – whatever is handy. I hadn’t set the table as yet and we keep the table pretty sparse since it frequently doubles as a work area, so she was playing with the chain around her neck, finally taking it off so she could spin it around her finger.
At some point, she stood up to refill her wine glass and I guess she left the chain on the table. I guess that she and Jane had been talking about makeup and other “girl” things, because she suddenly decided to freshen up before dinner and headed for the bathroom.
“Keep Jane amused, will you slave? I think her wine’s getting a bit low,” she said as she made her way to the bathroom. I put down the paper and headed for the kitchen, only to notice Jane grinning at me.
“She can still be sooooo careless,” she said as I just about reached her. I looked at her a little strangely, and she held up the chain...
…which had the keys for all of my locks on it. I just about lunged for them, but she kept them out of reach.
“I think she’d kill me if I gave them to you, but I’ll make you a deal.”
And thus a plan was hatched.
When Lydia walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, I stood in the bedroom door, looking like I was just coming out from some menial errand. Jane was in the hall near the toy cupboard, fumbling through her purse as though looking for something. Lydia smiled at me coyly and asked, “Does my slave approve?”
The answer to that was, “Of course. Could I be gifted with a kiss?”
Lydia paused for a moment, then moved towards me. I raised my hands over her head so that the chain went over, then lowered them behind her. We kissed fairly deeply, though not terribly so – Jane was right there. And then I grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her. She laughed and said, “Oh, you’re being naughty…Hey!”
Jane had started pulling the single glove over her hands as I held them in place. I grinned from ear to ear.
“Jane, what in the hell…” Lydia started. The glove was already up close to her elbows and I saw Jane drop something inside. I figured it out in a flash – she’d put the keys inside so that Lydia could hang on to them and I couldn’t get at them without releasing her.
“Oh, hush, Lydia. Call it me making up with Ray for getting him tied up twice. He’s still bound the way you had him, it’s just that the slave will have a slave for a while.” Jane’s smile was just about as wide as my own. Lydia growled, then pouted as the glove slid into place and was buckled around her neck.
“You traitor,” she said, though I thought I saw the hint of a smile starting to tug at the corners of her mouth.
Jane just laughed and traded places with me so I had the honor of fastening the elbow and wrist straps to my satisfaction.
“Sorry, dear. But if I didn’t help him out once in a while, I’d end up being banned from your house.” Jane glanced at her watch and said, “Crap. I’m going to be late. Be nice to her, Ray.”
And then she was gone. I turned Lydia around and kissed her again, positively ruining the lipstick she’d just applied. She returned it, then pulled a bit away and said, “You realize that this will only go badly for you when you finally cut me loose?” The evil grin on her face was positively delicious.
I responded by pulling her towards the table and then pushing over a footstool she could sit on without putting painful pressure on her arms. As I went to retrieve dinner, I said, “Well, you have to expect a slave to rebel every once in a while.”
Lydia smiled and laughed, then immediately started playing her new role. She begged for me to be kind, pouted and complained about not being able to drink her wine, and laughed as I tried to cut chicken while restricted by the chain between my hands only to apologize profusely and beg forgiveness. I threatened, growled, scolded and otherwise played along as the new master. I paused after delivering the plates to give her a kiss of the long and lingering kind which she returned. Then I pulled the bottom of her shirt up, exposing her lovely breasts.
“Ray! Right now?”
I smiled and kissed her again. “I think I’d like to have a view to enjoy over my dinner. And you’ll just have to provide it since I don’t think having the blinds open is a good idea.”
I fed her, occasionally taunting her and having fun with the role reversal. I’d make her beg for food on occasion, and “charged her” a feel of her bosom every now and again. She squirmed and struggled, and sometimes rubbed her foot against mine. All the while, we went from playing “Master and Slave” (or “Master/Slave and Slave,” I guess) to chatting about life in general. We talked about work, upcoming social events, family. The juxtaposition finally struck me as we finished the meal and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Lydia asked, looking a bit confused.
“We are. We’re both tied up, yet we’re sitting here discussing the party next week and how Andrew’s recovering. It suddenly struck me as funny how we were bouncing around.”
Lydia smiled, then leaned toward me and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.
“Well, we’re just normal in our own way, honey.”
Then she leaned back and started moving her foot back towards me, and I’d decided that I had had enough of that. I stood up and headed for the toy cupboard, Lydia’s complaints that I was leaving ignored. I started gathering straps and toys, and I was about to turn around and head back (it takes a while to walk when you’re hobbled, remember?) when I felt Lydia push against me from behind. She blew lightly into my ear, then said, “And what’s all that for, then?”
I put down the toys in a stack I could grab easily and turned to her, smiling. I said, “To make you behave.” As I said this, I unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them down her lovely legs, pausing to caress them as I did. She feigned some resistance, but kicked them towards the bedroom door once they were around her ankles.
As I repeated the process and caressing with her panties, she grinned. “I doubt it will work. I’m not a very cooperative slave.”
I realized that if she did decide to be uncooperative, I’d have a tough time doing much about it. Particularly if she decided just to run away from me. Even without her arms, her legs were free. So I kissed her, and managed to grab the end of the single-glove in the process. She pouted and shook her upper body to dislodge my grasp. But the only effect was to cause me to drop a blindfold and gag – the D-ring remained firmly in my grasp.
I dragged her back to the living room as best I could, and fortunately she didn’t resist too much. With my legs chained together, she very well could have pulled me off my feet if she managed to surprise me. As we walked, she started playing her role again.
“Whatever will you do to me, you cruel and evil man? When your revolt is put down and I have you at my mercy again, you’ll regret your treatment of me!”
I pulled her over until she was next to the couch and under one of the rings I’d installed in the beam. I said, “You mean if, slave. You’re not free now and may not be again. Now kneel.”
She grinned wickedly at me over her shoulder and refused to comply, saying “Never.”. I started lifting up the single-glove until she was forced to begin bending over.
“You may have spirit, but you’re not in a position to defy me. Kneel or you’ll eventually fall over and that might hurt.”
She growled and struggled, but complied before the angle became painful. I followed her to the floor, depositing the toys I’d grabbed on the couch next to me. Once there, I grabbed one of the leather straps I’d brought and slid it under her right leg. All the while, I maintained my grip on the D-ring to keep control of my prisoner. Lydia made a show of resisting a little, but shifted slightly so that the strap could slide under her leg.
“Keep resisting, and you’ll just make it worse,” I said, attempting to look and sound ominous. I moved around in front of her, keeping my hands on her shoulder to prevent her from standing, then strapped her leg so that her thigh and calf touched. She “glared” at me, but made no effort to stop me or struggle. With her leg trapped this way, she wasn’t going anywhere, so I relaxed a bit and moved more slowly. My first order of business was to repeat the strapping process on her left leg, then double check that there was no slack in either strap.
“Forcing me into a submissive position won’t change a thing,” she said. “And when I’m free…”
I put my hand over her mouth to stop her from finishing her thought. I kissed her cheek, then whispered in her ear, “When you’re free, you can take your revenge however you want. But you’re not now and I haven’t decided how cruel I might be yet. So if you’re smart, you’ll be quiet and limit the damage.”
She tried to glare at me as though she were some noblewoman being abused by an uppity slave, but she couldn’t pull it off. I felt the smile forming behind my hand, and then she laughed so hard she nearly hit her head on the floor. I tried to look upset at her “spoiling the mood,” but couldn’t hold that either.
After we were done laughing, I kissed her deeply, putting a finger over her lips after I was done to remind her to be quiet. Then I squeezed her right nipple lightly to test. She gasped, then grinned, but kept quiet. Then I went back to the pile of toys.
I’d debated whether to get out the large vibrator or the bullet, and finally settled on the bullet. We haven’t invested in a real vibrator with a remote, so this would be easier for me to control in my bound state. It also did a great job of driving her crazy with the programs it had. I bent to insert it and she moaned, started to speak, and then literally bit her lip. I toyed with her a bit to make it easy to insert, resulting in more muffled noises and some squirming.
When I looked up from the task at hand, she was literally biting her lip and something of a faraway look was in her eyes. I smiled, and went to the kitchen to get the small step ladder we keep there to reach the top shelves. As I shuffled away, she said, “You’re not leaving me like this, are you?”
I ignored her and focused on my mission. While I could have returned, it took some effort to walk while hobbled, and I had decided I was tired of the extra effort. I held on to the counter while I stepped up onto the ladder. With the chain between my legs and thighs, I wanted to make sure I could get up and down safely before dragging it out to the living room. It was a bit of a stretch, but I felt comfortable with it and returned.
As I walked back, it was obvious that Lydia had been testing her bonds. She was sweating a bit about her brow, and she’d actually managed to move away from the couch a little bit. She gave me a doe-eyed “Help me, kind sir,” look, which caused me to smile. When she noticed what I was carrying, she asked without thinking, “And what is that…”
She stopped herself when she remembered my instructions, but I decided it was past time to punish her. I put the ladder down behind her and grabbed the sponge balls and wrap so that I could hastily fashion a gag. Seeing this, she decided to have as much fun as she could.
“A true gentleman would never treat a lady this way and a good slave would realize that his freedom can’t last. I can’t believe that you’re foolish enough to act like this after the kindness I’ve shown you in the past. How can you forget the treatment you’ve received from me? I’ve never whipped or harmed you. I’ve never…Mmmmmppppphhhh.”
I sunk the gag home, then secured it with some more of the plastic wrap. Then I paused to play with her breasts and tickle her a bit. She moaned, giggled, and struggled in a most attractive way. Then I grabbed the long length of rope I’d brought with the toys and started my final preparations.
I made a large loop and placed it over the back of her neck. I drew the two pieces together and tied a knot immediately below her bust line so that the rope wouldn’t split or be easy to wriggle out of. Then I carefully measured the distance to her clitoris and put a knot at that point in the rope. Of course, this required accurately locating that sensitive spot, so I had to do a bit of exploration to make sure I had the length right.
Once the knot was tied, I slid the ends of the rope under her and through the D-ring on the bottom of the single-glove. I secured this with a knot as well, pulling her hands securely to her butt. Then I strung the ends of the rope up and through D-rings on the sides of the single-glove right just under her shoulders. These I didn’t knot, just looping them through. I draped the rope around my neck so that I could use my hands and stepped on to the ladder. When I reached the third step, I could reach the ring in the beam. Usually, I remove the plant that hangs from the ring, but with my hands and feet restrained, I decided to bypass that tonight. I looped the ends of the rope through the ring, pulled them somewhat taut, and then tied the rope off.
Lydia was now pulled slightly upward, straightening her back further and making her breasts jut out invitingly. She’d apparently already discovered that by struggling with her arms she could shift the knot over her clitoris slightly, and was already starting to breathe a bit harder through her nose. I smiled, stepped down from the ladder, and moved it out of the way. Then I grabbed the remote for our Tivo and joined her on the floor.
She paused from struggling and exciting herself to growl at me through her gag. I just smiled as I lay on the floor and rested my head on her thigh. I flipped on the TV and looked up at my pillow as I corralled the remote for her bullet.
“I recorded Master and Commander last week and haven’t had a chance to get around to watching it. Now seems to be a good time, so I thought I’d take advantage of the situation. You don’t mind, do you?”
She started to say something as best the gag would allow her to, but the bullet suddenly going on cut her off and turned her “speech” into a long, low moan. I started the movie, tweaking her right nipple before I settled down to watch the movie.
For the length of the movie, Lydia kneeled, bound and struggling. Sometimes it seemed that she was doing it to try to get free, but the excitement from the knot, the bullet going on and off, and my occasional touches and toying with her always turned her attention to how close she was to climax. But her position, some well-timed tickling, and the blood and gore that flashed on the screen from the battle and medical scenes always pulled her back just in time. She had a sheen of sweat all over her body by the end of the first hour of the movie, and I could have sworn that “You bastard” were the words muffled by the gag.
As the movie ended, I turned the bullet to her favorite program, which I’d avoided previously. It was a cycle where the vibrations started very slow and sped up before falling off to nothing for a brief moment. I’d moved to the couch, having found the floor too hard after a while, and as the music swelled I sat next to her. Her eyes were full of lust when they were open, and she looked at me with that mix of desperate need, love, and despite you can only get when you’ve tied up someone and toyed with them just the right way.
I touched her nipple for the first time in a while, having left them alone to allow her to stew. She closed her eyes and moaned. The chain between my hands made multi-tasking with them a little different, so I shifted position, sitting so that I was facing her. Raised up as she was, I could reach her breasts with my mouth, leaving my hands free for other areas. She’d open her eyes again, and seemed to be pleading for attention.
With one hand, I reached between her thighs and started massaging her mound, pushing the knot slightly to the side so that I could reach. With my other hand, I grabbed the rope leading from her neck, all the while nibbling, kissing, and licking her marvelously sensitive nipples. She breathed heavily and rapidly, pushing herself into me as much as her position and the rope allowed. I grinned as I played with her, focusing on bringing her over the edge.
She shook her shoulders violently, moaning loudly into her gag. I was getting worried that she might hyperventilate, but she hadn’t used her safeword and her eyes and reaction were begging for me to continue. So I changed the position of my hands slightly. I retained my grip on the rope, but slid my hands lower and allowed the knot to slip back into position. Using my fingers, I parted the ropes over her vagina and inserted two fingers.
Purely by accident, I’d discovered that I could manipulate the bullet while it was inside her with more than reasonable effect. It’s a relatively large bullet, and between pulling on the wire connecting it to the remote, pushing it with my fingers, or even grabbing it between my two fingers, I could maneuver it pretty much where I wanted it.
And I decided it was probably a good idea for me to bring this to an end. While Lydia hadn’t complained about her position, it had to be wearing her down and getting uncomfortable. Plus, while my position wasn’t as strenuous, it also wasn’t particularly comfortable. To reach her sensitive spots, I had to be on my butt and facing her, which left my legs sticking straight out in front of me. My back was starting to bother me a bit from the reaching and sitting up fairly straight.
I began moving the bullet within her and pulling on the rope at the same time to push the knot against her. She responded, and I started shifting between her breasts a bit more regularly. She pushed against me and would have been panting if the gag wasn’t in her mouth. I continued my attentions until she arched her back and squeezed her thighs together, lifting herself even further off the floor. A long moan came from behind the gag, and then she slumped down, her shoulders dropping. I slowed my attentions, but didn’t stop entirely for a while.
When I finally decided she’d had enough, I knelt behind her and removed her gag. She let it out happily, and I would have put my arms around her but the rope and chain kept me from doing that. I retrieved the ladder and released the rope. Lydia knelt and caught her breath without speaking. As I released the rope and straps, she smiled at me and looked tired.
“You will pay for that, you know.”
I just smiled as I helped her stand and go to the couch where I began to release the straps for the single glove.
“Back to forced labor for me, I guess,” as I undid the strap around