Whispers

Walking around downtown, killing time before we’re supposed to go to the bar to meet friends, he takes my hand and we go on a little detour, a right turn down an allyway. In a nook created by a recessed delivery door, he looks around, checking the location, admiring me. Next thing I know, I am pinned to the brick wall and his mouth is on my breast. These are two of my buttons, so I start writing around, pressing against him, making all those little sounds that let anyone know I’m having fun. His hands run up and down my body as he whispers in my ear admonitions to be quiet. His right hand is suddenly in my pants, rubbing me, bringing me to orgasm in quick order. He releases me, I smile and start to go back towards our original route, when suddenly he rolls his eyes, mutters a curse, and pounces me against another brick wall. His hand is instantly back down my pants, his fingers pushing back and forth inside me. “Ssshhh, sshhh, gotta be quiet. Come for me, baby, are you gonna come for me? Ssshhh, sshhh….” I’m practically holding my breath trying to obey, to stay quiet. Huge orgasm. Successfully quiet. He was so proud.

I sat naked in the middle of the bed, he was behind me, his hands reaching around and ever so gently caressing my nipples. That was VERY distracting to say the least.

I crossed my ankles, with my calves flat – knees touching the bed – and parallel lashed them together. Man – I could hardly focus at all. I reached and stroked myself a few times just to elevate the sensation. I grabbed another piece of webbing and tied it around my waist in the front, leaving the running ends even and long. “I want you to tie my hands,” I said, offering my arms behind my back, along with another 10 feet of the nylon.

He started wrapping the webbing around my wrists. “No, wait,” I said. “Too loose. I want you to figure-8 it a few times first. Yeah, that’s it. Leave some length. Now cinch it tight. YEAH. Wait – get the knot up higher, I can still reach it. Yeah, like that.”

He listened, and followed my instructions. “OK, put on the blindfold.” I closed my eyes as the cloth covered them. “Now – tie it in the back, then wrap it back around to the front and cinch it down.” “Tighter. Yeah. Oh yeah.. that’s sweet.” I wiggled a bit to check the wrists, I wasn’t getting out of those.

I rocked up on my knees as best I could. “Help me get face down, I don’t want to fall and hit anything” He grabbed my shoulders and guided he onto my stomach. It was uncomfortable, but in a comfortable way. Hard to describe. My knees were forced down, forcing my hips up. The pressure on my ankles was
delicious.
“I want you to grab the ends of the webbing around my waist, and pull them between my legs. Yeah. One on either side. Yeah, like that. Now loop one up between my arms, yeah. Other around the other side.” “Like this?” he asked? I felt the other between my palms.

“Yeah. Now tie them together. I want you to cinch my wrists tight against my ass.” I pressed down trying to take out as much slack as I could. I gasped with a shock of pleasure as he jerked to tighten the knot. I wiggled a bit, got some more slack. “Pull it again –tighter.” He did. Man this was hot.

“Now – cinch my ankles up against my wrists – same way.”
My back arched more. He tied it off and was done.
Oh yeah.

I wiggled a bit. I tried to push my hips down, but my ankles were holding them off the bed – my hips were suspended from a tripod of my knees and my chest, all lashed together at the top with webbing that can support, easily, the weight of a small car. But instinct being what it is, I tried anyway. My back arched, oooo, that tightened the straps between my legs, and pulled my wrists tighter between my ass cheeks. That just made me want it that much more.

A gentle rocking motion could do something – but not enough.
Oh god this is frustrating – and wonderful.

I heard a keyboard behind me. “What are you doing?” I was just curious – and thought maybe he was sharing what he was seeing with someone in chat. I was right, almost.

“Oh – I’ve got my webcam set up. There are about seven people watching this right now
. Eight.”

I struggled that much harder. That was hot, and I REALLY wanted to do SOMETHING. I pulled on my wrists –trying to break free – maybe I can get my arms underneath me and get off that way. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen.

“Tell you what, if you can manage to turn over, I might help you.”
Great. With great effort I pushed down one knee and managed to rock up onto one shoulder. A couple of false starts, and I ended up on my back. My shoulders were pressed onto the bed, my back sharply arched, pulled tight by my arms. The heels of my hands and my thumbs were tight into my ass, and my thighs spread wide.
“Oh, they liked that.”

I heard some rustling, then felt his weight on the mattress. He sat, straddling my upper chest, facing my feet and started slowly stroking the shaft of my dick. Quick, quick, quick, slow. He didn’t touch the head –just circled his thumb and forefinger around. His other hand circled was at the base, pulling down to keep things – tight. He knew me well by know, and knew just when to stop. Again and again right up to the edge, then pause, then again – a little less this time. Then he stopped for a few minutes.

“Can’t let it get to the point where you get off on a single touch, you know.”

He shifted over to one side. His hands explored my upper body. The backs of his fingers went over my nipples – not pinching, just stroking with the bigger flow. His other hand worked a bit more on my dick. Then stopped, Then again, all the while on the nipples.
“You really want it, don’t you?”

“Yesssss,” I hissed. Control had shifted. It wasn’t my game anymore, it was his. I was getting exactly what I wanted up to this point, now I wanted something he wasn’t going to give me.

Funny – this is what I had said I didn’t want. Release. I was very clear – I wanted total frustration. Have I changed my mind?
Yes.

I want nothing other than orgasm. Untie me and I’ll do it myself. Any way, any how, just get me off.
Nope, wasn’t going to happen.

He let off a bit. “How are you doing?”
My judgment was clouded by the endorphins. I was cramping a bit in the legs, but didn’t want this to end – even though I did.

He loosened, then released the cinch rope, untied my ankles. My hands were still tied, and still pulled tight against my ass though.
I sat up with my legs outstretched. “Better?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I was still hard as a rock – and he made sure with another stroke of the nipples.

Then he gently pushed me down onto my back again, and quickly tied an ankle to each corner of the bed –spreading them a little wider than was comfortable. He tied the end of the extra webbing to the strap pulling my wrists back, then started tugging it toward my feet.

“Bend your knees, or this is going to hurt.”
I did, and slid a ways down. He tied the other end of the center piece under the bed. That actually helped –taking some of my weight off my hands. I found I could get a LITTLE stimulation by gently rocking my hips. Not very much, but a little.

Then the nipples again. Gently. Never straying far, nor staying on them too long. Constant, low-level stimulation. Never going below my navel – though teasing to now and then.

“Oh.. this is sooo hot.” It was a small voice, not really mine. I was in total subspace. The position was more or less comfortable.
His fingers wandered over my face, onto my lips. I took them in and sucked on them. I wanted “it” so bad, but didn’t know what “it” was anymore. I just knew I didn’t have it, couldn’t get it, and craved it more than anything.

“What do you want?” I asked.
I really wanted to know.

“Just to ask you some questions,” he said.
“What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about the first time you got tied up like this.”
The conversation began as he continued to caress my nipples.

(I first started having this fantasy after watching Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid when I was eleven. I just couldn’t help imagining the Kid’s mock-rape scene being a little more serious…)

I arrive home in a rather bad mood. I didn’t want to go back this early, but my lover insisted on it- bandits had been spotted in the area, and he didn’t want me walking home late at night through some dark alley. Not that he’d volunteered to keep me safe- it was more important that he join the Sheriff’s wild goose chase for the outlaws than stay home to protect his girl.

As I walk inside, I silently curse the door that refused to lock. At least I have nothing of value to be stolen, and everything seems to be alright when I look around.

When I reach my room, I begin to undress. I’m halfway through the buttons when I hear a voice behind me.

“That’s right. Keep on going.”

In a flash, I turn around. At first, the only thing I can see is a gun pointed at me. Then, as my eyes get use to the shadows, I can see the man holding it. I’ve seen that face on enough posters not to have to wonder who he is, but those crudely drawn signs din’t get the half of it. No artist had ever captured that face, which should have been breathtakingly handsome but for the cruelty in his eyes- those cold, cold blue eyes.

“I said keep going!”

Terrified, my fingers fumble with the rest of the buttons on my dress. Please, I think to myself, please let him just be trying to scare me before he takes what little I have in the house…

His voice cuts into my prayers.

“Don’t stop there. Take off your corset.”

I hesitate, and he lifts his gun. Oh god, I can’t die like this, half naked and alone. Pushing aside my pride, I do as he tells me, untying the few things left covering my body and even taking down my hair when he doesn’t move his gun.

As I stand there there shivering from fear and cold, the outlaw stands up and walks over to me. He looks over my naked body a moment before making his decision.

“Damn,” he whispers, “if you haven’t been hiding the best body I’ve ever seen under that ugly dress.” Grabbing me around the waist, he gives me a kiss with no love in it, only the ugliest form of passion. I can’t even move in his grip, only squirm helplessly as his hands travel lower on my body.

Apparently satisfied with the foreplay, he pulls away and jams the gun next to my head.

“On the bed,” he growls. “Now!”

I move without thinking, and soon I lie trembling on the bed. Still I silently pray that he’ll change his mind, but by now I know I’m lying to myself. Slowly he comes over, smirking at my shivering form, and without warning gets on top of me.

Somehow, this sends my sense of self-preservation flying out the window. The hell with his gun, I am not going out like this. I shove my knee between his legs, and when he moves in pain I use the opportunity to try and make my escape. When he grabs me by the back of my hair, I turn and bring my nails up to his face, scratching anything I can reach.

My surprise advantage doesn’t last for long, though. He quickly recovers and shoves me back down on the bed, his hand around my throat so tight I can hardly breathe. For a moment I think he’s about to strangle me, but instead he just looks down with a nasty grin.

“So you’ve got a little fire in you after all. Much as I hate to sound like a dime novel villain, I like that in a girl. But I can’t have you interfering in tonight’s show.”

He grabs my wrists in one hand and, having pulled off his own shirt, binds them with the cloth. Pulling my bound hands above his head, he secures them to the bed, and though I struggle, I find myself unable to break my restraints.

Safe in my helpless state, he sits up and undoes the fastenings on his pants. I quickly turn my head away, failing to hold back tears.

“No,” I whisper. “Please!”

“A word of advice, darling- pick a track and stick with it. Don’t beg and plead with me when you just tried to kill me a moment before.”

He spreads my legs with his hands as I whimper.

“And keep these open or I swear to god I’ll beat you bloody.”

Those are the last words I hear before he plunges into me. I scream, the shock of violation consuming me and very nearly making me pass out.

“Shut up,” he growls. He thrusts into me over and over again, striking me whenever I try to move even the tiny distance that my bonds permit me. That horrible grin of his stays on, and the more distressed I am, the more aroused he becomes.

It seems to last forever. I don’t even know how my own body has responded, so horrified and humiliated that even my own orgasm doesn’t break me from my degradation- and he certainly doesn’t notice it, putting down my convulsion to one last attempt at a struggle. I feel a brief moment of pride at this- I’ve achieved at least one small victory over this monster, snatching a second of pleasure from his torture- before he comes inside of me and I fall back defeated.

I lie there for a time shuddering in pain and horror while he speaks, languid and triumphant.

“You’ve got the tightest pussy I’ve had in a long time. It’d be a shame to only get it this once- I’ve got half a mind to bring you back with me.”

I cry out at this, and he laughs.

“Not tonight, though. But I’ll be back when I’m in the mood again.”

I don’t even try to resist as he gags me with my own stockings, saying that the mob is sure to be close by now and he can’t have me giving off a warning. He pulls his pants back up, straightens his clothes, and tips his hat to me as he leaves.

“Until next time.”

The first thing my lover sees when he comes back empty handed is me, crying while bound and gagged and covered in bruises. If he hadn’t left me alone, he might have caught his outlaw.

We’ve been in the bar for about an hour now. I’ve enjoyed watching all the other patrons and hearing you sing, but I’ve mostly enjoyed just being close to you. Finally, a table against the wall empties, but there is only one stool. We walk quickly over to the table before anyone else can claim it. You offer the stool to me, but I shake my head. So you sit on the stool and we turn our attention back to the next karaoke singer, with me leaning back against your stomach, between your legs.

You brush my hair to the side and breathe on my neck. I lean my head back and to the side, baring my neck for you. Quickly, without warning, you latch onto my neck with your teeth and begin to suck. You suck hard enough to taste blood. My knees go weak and I melt against you. Only your arms around me and my neck in your mouth keep me from sliding to the floor. When you raise your head from my neck, you ask me if I’d like to sit down, motioning towards your lap. I smile and nod, unable to speak for a moment.

You scoot the stool closer to the wall, so that we are between the wall and the table, with the table blocking us from the rest of the bar. It doesn’t completely hide us, but it obscures a little. You close your legs and I walk around to hop up in your lap sideways. I adjust my skirt out from underneath me so that it flows out and over both of our laps like a blanket. My legs are closed and over your side. My back is to the wall, my right side leaning against your stomach, my arm around your shoulders, your arms around my hips. You’re excited to have me there. I can feel you pushing against me. I adjust my position to rub against you. You lean into my neck and moan in my ear.

You gently lift my hips, just a little. I put my feet on the rung of the stool and stand up just enough to take my weight off your lap, but still appearing to sit in your lap. With your hand at my back, you reach under my ass, I assume to adjust yourself, but in a moment, I feel your hand against me, and you push my underwear to the side. I gasp as you rub my clit. You do that only for a moment, then you move your hand, but you to not take it out from under me. After some movement, I feel something that doesn’t feel like your hand. You have unzipped your jeans and are now pushing your cock at me. You guide the head towards my opening. I’m very wet, but without the foreplay, I’m still tight. You just get the head inside and you remove your hand. I very slowly put my weight back into your lap, forcing you further inside me, pushing against my tightness. Finally, you are all the way in, so deep.

You put your hand back around my waist and we sit there, at the table in the bar, in full view of everyone, with you penetrating me and no one knows. We both turn our faces back to the stage and try to hide from everyone what is happening right there under the table.

I start to flex, slowly, rhythmically. Your grip on my hips tightens. You fight not to raise and lower my hips on your lap. You take a sip of your beer, I adjust my flexing to the beat of the song. The drunk woman at the next table leans over to ask if you are going to sing again. You tell her maybe in a while. For a rare moment, we both hope the DJ does not call your name anytime soon. We look at each other and grin with our shared secret.
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We were on our way back through the mountains, just friends, but there had been tension building. Over time, we had shared our fantasies, so she knew what I was thinking about.

“Stop here,” she said. It was a heavily wooded spot, with a small parking area. I did. We got out and started to wander deep into the trees, well out of sight of the road.

It was a small clearing. There was a partly downed tree over it, the trunk nearly horizontal and about 8 feet from the ground. It was a nice spot, on a warm day.

“Well?” Her eyes said it more than her words.
“What?” I asked, maybe just wanting to be sure before I did something stupid.
“I want you naked.” My heart skipped a beat, but I complied. Inside a minute, I could feel the forest breeze on my ass.

She had me stand under the fallen tree, and opened her pack. A cloth was tied tightly over my eyes, around my head. “Hold out your hands,” was her next request / order. Again, I complied, and felt a rope binding my wrists together.

She threw the long end of the rope over the tree trunk, and pulled until I was on my toes, then, I suppose, tied it off somewhere, then another line to each ankle pulled my legs apart slightly – and kept me from twisting around.

I was obviously excited – there was no missing that – but the touches on my nipples and exploration of my body ratcheted things up quite a bit. She knew about my arousal / denial fantasy and I was getting into a nice zone thinking about where this might be going as she pushed my arousal to higher and higher levels.

Then SNAP! followed a second later by a sharp pain on my ass.
SNAP! again.
SNAP! again.
I heard the rope whistling through the air for each blow. Ten? Fifteen? I wasn’t counting, just waiting for each one to follow.

Then it stopped. Silence. A gentle hand on my ass, hands reaching around back to my nipples, down to my rock-hard cock – just touching, no more.

The ropes on my ankles were undone, then I was released from above. I sat on the cool forest floor, blind folded, my wrists still tied together, naked.

“Meet me at the car.” She left.

I untied myself, put on my clothes, walked out of the woods, and we drove home without a word.

I went to a female dentist, Dr. Julia Bently. She was a middle aged women, a little overweight, a little matronly, but not unattractive and she seemed nice enough.

On my second visit, she told me that the x-rays we took last time showed the need for extensive dental surgery that would require dozens of sessions over the next several months. With my reluctant consent, she began the process. She injected me with a sedatative and began to strap me to the dental chair with restraints. I protested but she told me this was necessary for the small percentage of patients that have a violent reaction to the sedative. She told me that she once had a patient convulse and fall out of the chair. She secured the straps tightly. I protested again. She smiled and told me that it was for my own good.

The sedative began to cloud my mind. I remember saying something about letting me up. I strain against the straps but it was no use.

She put headphones over my ears . . . music . . . music with something else just underneath . . . something I can’t quite make out . . . but it commands my attention. I try to think of something else . . . anything else, but the pounding rhythym and the words just underneath . . . they won’t let go of my attention. My mind strains to hear the words . . . I must hear the words . . . “O ey oct r ben ly . . . Ob y do tor ent y . . .”
- just sounds without meaning. I strained to listen more closely . . . to her past the music.

I am oddly unaware of what is going on around me. I force myself away from the half formed words in my head to see that Dr. Bently has removed my shoes and socks . . . why in the world would she? . . . She is using surgical sissors to cut into my shirt . . . she is cutting it away and pulling the rest of it out from under me . . . Why? . . . I try to form the word to ask her, but I can’t. She is now turning the sissors on my trousers, up one leg, then up the other leg until the two cuts meet at the zipper. She reaches for my belt, undoes it and the button on my trousers, and then unzips me to where the sissor cuts meet. Her approach is clinical, as if it is just another dental procedure to be performed. Her approach is also deliberate, as if she has done this a hundred times before. She grabs the remnants of my pants legs firmly and pulls roughly to slip them out from under my helpless body and the medical restraints.

The clinical facade dropped for a moment as she allowed herself a wicked smile, gazing down at my naked body. She tightened the restraints again to adjust for the missing bulk of the clothing she has forcibly removed from me. I feel so violated. I again strain against the straps. Her wicked smile broadens the more I struggle.

She turned to the source of the music and the words . . . and turns up the volume. I begin to here the sound more fully as the music pounds at my skull. ” bey do or en ly . . . Obey Doc or Bently . . . Obey Doctor Bently . . . Obey Doctor Bently . . . Obey Doctor Bently . . .” The words I had strained so desparately to hear now filled every corner of my mind.

“OBEY DOCTOR BENTLY . . . OBEY DOCTOR BENTLY . . . ”

She smiled condesendingly down at me as she lowered the back of the chair until my head was lower than my feet.

“OBEY DOCTOR BENTLY . . . OBEY DOCTOR BENTLY . . . ”

She slowly removed her labcoat to reveal that she was wearing nothing underneath. She removed the headphones from my ears, but strangely the loud refrain remained in my head long after the headphones were removed.

She lifted her right leg up over my bound body. Her right leg coming to rest just to the right of my face and her left leg pressing in from the left side, she straddled my mouth with her womanhood as she sat upon my chest.

“From now on, this is where you will want to be more than anyplace else. You will eagerly look forward to our appointments. Once here, you will remember the music and the words . . . and what you must do . . . what you must always do . . . OBEY ME!”

“Now lick me . . . Lick my pussy . . . You will find you can’t resist.”

She drew my face into her bush and my tongue eagerly sought the pink wetness beneath. It was important to please her . . . I must please her! My tongue found her clit and she writhed as I obediently serviced it.

“Goooood Boooy!!!” she screamed, as she came in waves all over my face.

“My obedient slave, didn’t you think their would be payback for all the times during our first appointment that I caught you sneaking a peek down my blouse or up my dress? Every time I caught you ogling my ass? And don’t think my assistant Rachel hasn’t seen you leering at her when she cleaned your teeth. Now you are the one being ogled and violated . . . and their is nothing you can do about it.”

She “dismounted” from my cum soaked face and keyed the intercom,

“Rachel, lock the front door and join me in the treatment room. Mr. Kent requires a thorough “oral” examination.”

“I’ll be right there . . .(giggle)”

Dr. Bently now climbed onto the middle of the chair and straddled my legs.

“Long and hard for me – NOW! OBEY!!!”

My cock lept to attention, against my will, and she smiled that wicked smile again.

As Dr. Bently roughly mounted my obediently rigid cock to use me for her pleasure, Rachel entered the treatment room, already naked, and mounted my mouth for the same purposes.

“You will obey Rachel as you obey me.” Dr. Bently announced as much for Rachel’s amusement as for my indoctrination . . . and suddenly I knew that it was true. I would do anything to please them both – anything.

Rachel looked down at me triumphantly, her evil smile matching Dr. Bently’s

“Time to lick me, Mr. Kent, or should I say Mr. slave.”

My tongue snapped to attention and began to pleasure my second mistress, as my first mistress proceeded to “rape” my cock. They both changed places a couple of times – raping my cock – raping my tongue – raping my mind. And Dr. Bently would find other women to join us in the treatment room, other women for me to obey as she commanded.

In spite of myself, I sat in the lobby, looking forward to my next appointment. My friends all think I’m obsessed with oral hygeine. If they only knew. If I could only tell them . . . or the police . . . or anyone else . . . but that would break my promise of obedient silence.

“Dr. Bently will see you now, Mr. Kent.” It was Christine her new part time receptionist.

“Thank you”

I rose to go in. Christine blocked my path for a moment and smiled an odd smile

“I’ll see you inside, once the Doctor is done with you.”

I knew what she meant. I would be made to please her too.

“And the Doctor asked me to schedule two additional appointments for next week -”

Then she whispered. “It seems her sisters are coming in from out of town (giggle).”

As I went in, I heard Christine say

“Poor Mr. Kent – such a slave to oral hygeine . . . well oral anyway.”

Christine and the waiting room full of female middle aged patients laughed and laughed and looked forward to their appointments . . . with Mr. Kent.

She was right on the edge, and I knew her so well – I was going just fast enough to hold her there, almost, but never quite.

I looked through her mat of jet-black hair into her beautiful, desperate eyes.

“You want to cum?”
“yessssss” – she could barely speak.
“You like this, don’t you?”
“yes”
“Can you remember how this feels?”
“yes”
“I want you to remember this – how this is right now – whenever you think of me. Can you do that?”
“yes”
“When you are mad at me, I want you to remember how you are feeling right now. Can you do that?”
“yes”

I increased the pace just a little, just enough to push her over the edge.
“eeeeegsh!” Her hands gripped my back tight.
Then I slowed back down… back to the edge.

“Did you come for me?”
“yes”
“You liked that, didn’t you?”
“yes”
“Are you a greedy girl? Do you want more?”
“yes.. yes”

I smiled.
“Come for me… now.” As I spoke I, again, turned things up just a little.
Her eyes clenched shut, she clenched her teeth, her hands, shuddered.

“You’ll remember how this feels, always. Remember this when you think of me. Think of this even when you are mad at me. This feeling is how I feel about you… always.”

“Yes”

No alarm this morning, we can wake up slowly as the light makes its way through the curtains. I move slightly, then pull her closer to me, her back against my front as we have slept most of the night. She stirs, sighs a bit, snuggles in, then slowly turns to face me – her bright dark brown eyes full of nothing but love. I am the luckiest guy on earth.

Fast forward. I have tried, tried, tried to convince myself this was infatuation, driven by great sex alone. But I can’t. I have to admit to myself that the sex didn’t matter, it was just icing. Without it I would *still* be the luckiest guy on earth.

I have tried, tried, tried to fall out of love with her. But I can’t. Why? What is the hold she has on me? I have been around the sun 50+ times in my life, had countless lovers, but is this really the first time I have come to understand what love really is?

What am I to do?
Do I give up *everything* that is my present life to be with her? Is this some kind of test? Or do I remain paralyzed and live my remaining days in a fantasy of what might have been… but maybe it is only a fantasy. Am I in love with the fantasy?

I look at my photos of her. My favorite – she is nude. Standing, confident, proud-not-quite-defiant, looking right at the camera. Another captures her eyes alone. Another her “I am so in love with you” smile.

Love. Pain. Anguish.

Eventually I fall asleep, my arms embracing the pillow, remembering her, knowing I am losing her.

As always, as I was getting close, I started wondering… “What the hell am I doing?” But I pressed on, perhaps because I had made a commitment to show up.

I found the driveway, just as he described it in the email.

It was in a rural area, a farm, at least a quarter mile, maybe more, from the nearest neighbor along the road. Dusk, nearly dark. The lights were on inside. What am I doing? But I pushed on. Parked. Looked at the porch.

There was a note on the door, and a cardboard box on a chair on the porch.

I walked up – the note was a folded piece of paper that said “If you are brave…” My heart pounded.

I opened the note, there was no surprise in the instructions.

It was about 15 degrees.. but that just made it hotter.

In the box was a lycra hood, a pair of hinged handcuffs, a pair of ankle cuffs. No keys.

I took off my shoes, socks. Dropped pants, shorts, put on the ankle cuffs. The ratcheting sound was a point of no return.

Shirt, t-shirt. Put the handcuffs on one wrist.

Pulled the hood over my head… couldn’t see now.

Put my hands behind my back, and the final ratchet.

I was naked, handcuffed, shackled, hooded on the porch of someone I had never met.

The door opened, I heard a voice say “Hello there” and guide me slowly inside.

The vulnerability was exhilarating.

I felt his hands lightly explore my body. The cheeks of my ass, my balls, up my chest.

When he touched my nipples I gasped and shuddered. He found my hot spot. He lingered there, just teasing them, watching my knees go weak.

“You like that don’t you?”
“Yes,” I hissed. Oh god, did I.

He led me across the room.. slowly. I felt my my legs bump into something. He gently guided me up, then over. I was kneeling on padded boards, straddling plywood, my chest resting on a narrow padded top.

I felt straps being applied to my ankles, then my thighs. Then one across my lower back, then my upper back.

He unlocked the handcuffs, placed my arms on similar padded rests. Straps around my wrists, just above my elbows.

I was totally exposed.. feeling *very* naked. But this is what I came for.