Fancy Dinner

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boundBinder
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Fancy Dinner

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Another in my small collection of tales I wrote. F/m with M/f. I hope you guys enjoy it. It is a long one. Please excuse any grammar errors on my part. My grammar skills are not what they once were. I am out of practice, I guess. I have one more to post, after this one, assuming you folks are interested. ;)

I first met Charlene “Charlie” DuPont at a dinner I had won in a contest, from work. The restaurant I was at was WAY out of my price range, but I had scored a gift card worth two meals, due to good performance. I only used one "meal", so I still had one to spare, and planned on coming back. Going stag to a high-class place like that looked a little sad, but I didn't care. The opportunity to see how the other half lived, coupled with really good food was one I could not pass up. Going alone both times just meant that I got to do it twice.

I spotted Charlie alone at the bar, on my first visit, but I didn't have the guts to approach her. The second time I went, she was again alone at the bar. This time, I introduced myself, and we hit it off almost immediately. Little did I know that I would be going back to her place that very night. I hadn't even considered that she'd be rich, despite where I had met her. She didn't act like a typcial rich snob. She was really down-to-earth, and friendly. She seemed genuinely interested me, and happy to be on my arm, despite the older model car I drove, and my lack of the trappings of wealth.

The sheer size of her home was somewhat overwhelming. She didn't waste any time leading me to her bedroom. I even half-heartedly asked her if she wanted to have some drinks or get to know each other. "That's not what I brought you home, for," she purred, gripping me firmly through the crotch of my slacks. "Take these off, and hurry." Of course, I was naked in seconds, and she was excitedly leading me to her bed by the hand. I had never done anything that wasn't strictly "vanilla" in bed, before. The kinkiest thing I'd ever tried was taking a woman from behind, so when she asked me if she could handcuff me to her headboard, I was a little trepidatious. She pouted, pulled her top down, and said "PLLLEEAASSSE?" while straddling me. When a hot blonde does that to a guy, anyone knows that he'll do almost anything she wants, so I let her lock my wrists to the stout, expensive wood.

The next thing I knew, she was quickly tying my ankles together, tethering them securely to her foot board, then straddling me again. She was in nothing but tight, lace booty shorts, and kissing me, fiercely. Every time I tried to speak, she covered my mouth with hers, and ground her lace-covered ass on my exposed crotch. I was hard as steel, but being denied entry. The way she was moaning into my mouth as her tongue probed for mine, I could tell that having me tied to her bed was REALLY getting her worked up. Damn, she was a great kisser, but what she did with that mouth and tongue when she took my rod into it was mind-blowing. I began trying to scream, so she peeled her shorts off, wadded them up, and jammed them in my mouth. "Keep those there," she said, then continued, while I alternated between trying to scream, and tasting just how worked up she was. She stopped servicing me just short of allowing me to climax, causing me to moan into my gag. She shifted, and was sitting on my face, "make me cum," she demanded, jerking the underwear from my mouth. I obliged with a fervor unbecoming a gentleman. I soon had her shrieking into the night, which was stifled almost immediately. I can only assume she was keeping herself quiet somehow. I had no way of knowing, because her body was blocking all sight from me.

Her weight was removed from my face, and her underwear was shoved back into my mouth. I was only dimly aware of the ripping sound of the duct tape, before my lips were sealed shut around them. I looked up at her, and the hunger in her eyes was almost tangible, as she shifted over my member. She bit her lip, just before plunging me into her, with a guttural squeal. I suddenly realized that I wasn't wearing protection, but it was far too late to say anything, now...because I couldn't. My humming, and shaking my head "no" seemed to only drive her wilder, as she rode me hard. She brought me to my first climax quickly, and I groaned into her panties and the tape. She purred as she settled onto my cooling body, smoothing my gag playfully with her fingertips. "That was wonderful," she said, as she curled her arms under her, atop me. "Don't worry, I'll let you out eventually...but you're staying tied up and gagged until you can fuck me again," she cooed, as she kissed my neck, and where my mouth should be, tenderly, "would you like that?" I nodded, and we drifted off to sleep lightly. I don't know how long we lay like that, but she woke me by moving, and I realized I was hard again as she began riding me at an easy pace. She got faster and faster, until she was literally demanding that I climax. I obliged. Her moans split the night air again, and were stifled once more. This time I saw her clamp both hands over her mouth. I was never that interested in bondage, but I have to admit that I could get used to this.

Once we were done, I she smiled a contented smile at me. "Would you like to stay the night?" I hummed questioningly, and shook my cuffed wrists. She giggled. "Yes, I'll untie you, but if you share a bed with me, you'll have to be naked, bound, and gagged...and maybe blindfolded. I haven't decided. Understand?" I nodded, and she went about releasing me, so we could get cleaned up. We showered together, and made out, kissing heavily under the steaming spray, but that is as far as it went. "We can kiss all you like, but I will only make love to you if you're my fuck toy. You're only my fuck toy, if you're all tied up," she said, smiling playfully, toying lightly with my manhood. I agreed. I mean, after the things she'd done to me, how could I not? I'd never been with anyone like her. Her smile...her scent... her touch was intoxicating.

Once we were clean, we adjourned to her living room, and talked into the wee hours. Honestly, we were so immersed in conversation that we barely noticed that, except for our underwear, we were wearing only the blankets we were wrapped in. I genuinely liked her—over and above the amazing sex—and hoped to see her again. We watched television and chatted some more, until we both started yawning. "I'm getting tired. Are you SURE you would still like to spend the night?"

"I would love that," I said, taking her hand and kissing it.

"Then, we need to get ready for bed. I'll get you a blanket and a pillow, if you're sleeping on the couch...unless you'd rather sleep with me, in the bed."

"Were you serious about tying me up?"

"Of course. It's a rule," she said, smiling.

I thought for a moment. "I'd rather be with you," I said, hoping I'd get laid again.

"Then come with me, and strip," she said, leading me into her bedroom. I was only wearing my boxers, so it didn't take long. This time, she quickly tied my wrists behind me with rope. She led me to the bed, by my rapidly-stiffening member, and had me climb up into the bed, and kneel, facing her headboard. She crossed my ankles, and tied them, then tethered my ankles to my wrists. Next, she tied a tight cord around the base of my ball sack, and laid the long, loose end in front of me.

"What's that f..," I started to ask.

"Shh," she said, kissing me hungrily, then quickly gagging me with a knotted scarf, tied tightly behind my head. "You're just a sex toy. You don't get to talk." This was all still a little new to me, but it was becoming more and more fun, and I was hard as I could get. She dropped a second scarf over my eyes, and tied it behind my head, stealing my sight. "Wait right here. I'll be right back." I knelt there for a while, and heard her in the bathroom. A few minutes later, I felt the motion of the bed, as she climbed on top of it. My erection had diminished a little, but as soon as I felt the bare skin of her perfect ass grinding against my manhood, it leapt back to life. Based on what I felt, she was on all fours, in front of me. "Hurry. Get inside me." I hummed into my gag, and tried my best to work my way into the right spot. "I'm not going to help you. If you want it, you're going to have to take it." I could hear her smile. Finally, with a combination of movements on my part, and careful application of my kegel muscles, I managed to hit my target, and slid home, eliciting a delicious purr from her.

It was then that I found out what the thin cord was for. She had grabbed it, and yanked it hard, pulling me into place. Soon, she was setting my pace with insistent tugs. If I went too fast, she pulled it, HARD, keeping me tight against her, growling to me that "fucktoys go at her speed". She would then loosen her grip, and allow me to continue. If I went too slowly, she would yank the cord at the tempo she wanted, until I matched it. If I wanted to avoid discomfort, I had to match her speed, exactly. After a few painful pulls, I got the point, and kept at it.

After a while, she was pulling faster and faster. At some point, I think she gagged herself somehow, because although she was hollering the stereotypical "faster faster harder harder", the sound was pretty muffled and distorted. I wasn't sure though, since I couldn't see. At the end, I could barely match the tempo she insisted on, she wanted it so fast. I'm sure I bruised one or both of us. It wasn't long after that, that she was again demanding my climax, and I happily, exhaustedly obliged. Judging by the sounds she made, she relished that part as much as I. Our muffled screams mingled as her body tightened around mine, and I tried collapse, only to be harshly reminded of my bindings, particularly the one she had hold of. It wasn't until she let me, that I was able to lie down, and get some much-needed sleep, still bound, gagged, and blinded.

So went our relationship for some time. We would go out, and sometimes she would pay, other times we would "go dutch", and still others it would be on me, but it was always someplace I was comfortable with. We never went to any "high society" places or events. I began to question whether she was ashamed of me, particularly because I'd never met her family, or her other friends. She would squeeze my hand, and explain that her family were rich snobs that would only be cruel to me, and that her friends were shallow and spoiled, and she much preferred my friends to hers. Before long, she was telling me that she loved me, and I would return the sentiment. I still got a twinge of hurt when she would tell me I couldn't go to some dinner or other she had been invited to, but it didn't change the way I felt about her.

Whether we went out, or if I just came over to spend time with her, or even if she came to my place(which meant that she would bring a large bag), it was always the same. We would snuggle, and talk, and do all the things that giddy, new lovers would do, right up until it came time to "do the deed". Then, I would be led to the bedroom, well-restrained, gagged, usually blinded, and used. I didn't mind. Honestly, I really developed a taste for it, and even asked to be tied up from time to time, which seemed to give her a rush. More than once I asked her about switching roles, only to be rebuffed. I once pointed out that she had a habit of gagging herself, during sex. She acted embarrassed, and shut down. Not wanting to cause her distress, I dropped it. Something about the idea of me binding her made her uncomfortable, so I didn't press the matter....much.

The weeks turned into months, and the months stretched into a couple of years. Our relationship got stronger in more ways than one. We got closer and closer as a couple, and the bondage got progressively more intense, and restrictive. Wealth hath its privileges, so custom restraints began arriving in unmarked packages. Everything one could imagine showed up. She ordered a leather straight-jacket that fit me like a second skin, and a matching hood that, except for the collar, detachable blindfold, and multiple detachable gags, looked like it could have been painted onto me. I had multiple armbinders, legbinders, and hoods and gags of every description, and nearly all of them were lockable. She loved dangling the keys in front of me, once she was done applying restraints. She had a veritable buffet of bondage to inflict on my body...and heaven help me, I loved it. I'd even grown to crave it.

I would ask her about attending one of her high class events, too. It was the same excuse, time after time. Things came to something of a head one week, when she was to go to dinner with her parents. She told me that she wouldn't be around on Friday evening, but I could hang out at her place until she came home. When she mentioned her folks, I asked her if I could please come and meet them. She ran the same song and dance about the way they would treat me. This time, I didn't back down, and insisted that if she loved me, that I needed to meet the people in her life that were important to her. She countered that I had already met everyone that was important to her. I pointed out that she had already met my family, and they loved her, and she them. She also liked, and was liked by, my circle of friends. I tried a few more times, but she wouldn't budge. We actually had our first fight, that evening. She had let slip that this "dinner" was at the very same fancy restaurant where we first met. I ended up telling her I would just show up there, that I didn't need her permission. We said other things, many of which I regret. To her credit, she took it all, and honestly, she never once threw an insult my way.

Friday morning, I got a message from her on my cell that said, "I'm sorry we fought, lover. You should come over after work, and we can make it up to each other."

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll be there. I am very sorry, too," was my reply. I was still stinging a little, but damn it, I did love her, and even after only a night apart, I missed her.

"Besides, you were VERY mean to me, and REALLY need to be punished," followed by a couple of devil-faces came a moment or two after that. It sent a thrill through me. I was hopeless, and was suddenly watching the clock. I NEVER watch the clock. She had addicted me, I admit.

"I also have a surprise for you!" was the next message.

I tried to ask what it was, but she refused all attempts at coaxing, informing me that I would just have to wait and see. I suspected it was the next in a long line of restraints, and honestly, I was a little excited to see what new devilishness she had in store. I had forgotten all about that dinner. I really should have remembered, because I might have expected what was to come.

I rushed home, showered, dressed, and burned rubber to Charlie's place. She met me at the door, wearing an old t-shirt, cutoffs, and sneakers, her lovely hair pulled into adorable “puppy-ear” pony-tails. I melted at the sight of her. She grabbed me, and pulled me into a bruising kiss, breaking it only long enough to tell me that she loved me, and she was sorry. Again, I should have expected something was up, because the harsh truth is that she had done nothing to apologize for. She had only been looking out for me, as her crowd was the sort that could be pretty cruel to those that they saw as “beneath them”. I was the one that was a total ass, and let my temper get the better of me. I told her she had done nothing wrong, and that I was the one that was sorry—deeply.

She dragged me to the couch, gleefully. "Wait here, and strip, baby. I've been waiting for you to try this on, since it arrived, this morning." She bounded out of the room—she looked like a kid at Christmas. I was still peeling my jeans off, when she skipped(yes, she actually skipped) back into the living room, holding a dark garment bag. As I finished taking off everything, she unzipped the bag, and drew forth a long object made of buttery-soft latex, from which dangled a dozen one-inch leather straps. A small, black velvety bag also hung from the hanger. "Remember all the measurements I took of you, last month?" She was positively giddy, as I nodded. "I've always wanted to put someone in one of these. It's a sleep sack! It even has an attached hood!"

I examined the thing critically. The latex felt positively luscious, decadent even. Inside was soft and suede-like. It did not escape my notice that the buckles were the locking kind, nor did the strategically-placed opening at crotch level. As I ran my hands over it, exploritorially, she left and returned with an armload of leather straps, and a small box. She bit her lip and looked at me in a way that was half adorably-sexy, and half predatory. She piled the straps into my arms over the top of the sack, set the box on top of my load, and grabbed me by my rapidly-awakening member, tugging me along like it was a leash. "Come with me," she purred.

What choice did I have, but to follow? ...awkwardly...

She led me out to her back patio. The decorative, ten-foot fence meant that we had complete privacy, and we had played our wonderful bondage games out in the yard, before. She led me to a stout post that supported the roof over the patio, and had me set everything down on a nearby table, before withdrawing the sack, and helping me step into it. It held my feet together tightly, and she inserted a soft pad between my legs that cushioned them somewhat, from my ankles to above my knees. I kept having to lean on the post a little, for support, as she began working the zipper slowly up the back of my legs. She worked her way up to my hips, and I immediately noticed just how well it fit. Her measurements had been exacting, so it fit almost like a second skin. It was already so TIGHT, and she hadn't even reached my arms, yet. She carefully pulled my manhood through the strategically-placed hole—that I quickly noticed had a built-in cock ring—in the front, eliciting a moan from me at her touch. The ring contracted around my base, separating everything from me. Soon, she had worked my arms into the internal sleeves, and was running the zipper up to the back of my neck. The hood came next. There were holes for my eyes, nostrils, and mouth, but it was otherwise smooth, except for the zipper in the back. She carefully tucked my hair into it, and ran the zipper the final few inches. "Here's one of the best parts," she quipped, and I felt her near the crown of my head, and heard a small 'click'. She dangled a ring of keys in front of my face. "It locks! You're stuck, now," she smiled.

I had a moment of panic when she pushed me backwards at the end of a perfectly-manicured index finger, amid a little bit of giggling at my fear. I came to rest immediately against the post. She grabbed a strap, and quickly affixed me loosely to the pole, around my waist. "That's to stop you falling over. Be right back." She left me, and I experimentally tested my latex prison. There was hardly any give to it, so it wasn't a thin rubber. I had almost no movement, and it was squeezing me in all directions. I watched her walk over to her tool shed, and remove her shop vac from it, pulling it in my direction.

"Shop vac?" I thought. I looked down, past the dangling leather straps threaded through the loops on my restraint sack, and that's when I noticed it for the first time: a black, one-way vacuum port located between my shins.

Holy crap.

She plugged the vacuum in, rolled it over to me, and knelt down. She connected the hose to the port, purred, "here's the OTHER best part," and turned it on. I gasped as the air was pulled from the bag, crushing me. If the thing had fit like a second skin before, it looked painted-on, now. A couple of months into our relationship, she had started insisting that we both shave our nether regions smooth, so the seal tightened around my manhood, and the openings in my hood. There were seemingly no leaks at all. She grinned evilly, as my breath began to quicken. The powerful vacuum began to squeeze me, relentlessly, as Charlie went to work on the straps. Starting at the one at my ankles, she tightened them brutally, one by one, going back to see if any of them had more slack to give. Ankles, shins, above and below my knees, thighs, hips, waist and forearms, above and below my elbows, and my shoulders Then, padlock after padlock came out of the box, securing each buckle. She then tightened the one around my waist, that anchored me to the post, and locked it, as well. Next, all the while the vacuum was busily whirring away, she began adding straps to further anchor me to the post, starting at my ankles, below my knees, thighs, waist, and chest. She applied padlocks to these, as well.

Finally, she disconnected the hose, and turned off the vacuum. To my surprise—and intense arousal—none of the air leaked out. The bag didn't loosen it's almost bruising hold on me one iota. Charlie produced a patent-leather, padded mouth panel that buckled in the front. On the inside of it was a fat, bulbous gag—that thing would definitely keep me quiet. She reached up, and kissed me deeply, one, last time. "Open wide, lover, so I can gag you," she smiled, shoving the thing home. She tightened the strap, pressing the padding against my lips. Muffled humming was all I could manage. Next, she buckled a severe posture collar around my throat, which forced my head up, and consequently tightened the gag. Another strap went around my forehead and tightened, and I lost what little movement I had left. I could twitch my member, I could flare my nostrils with labored, difficult breaths, I could wriggle my toes a little, and I could dart my pleading eyes around, but that was all. The vacuum seal of the bag even stole my ability to wiggle my fingers, beyond a minute stretching of the material.

Oh, and I could hum.....quietly.

Three more 'clicks', three more padlocks, and Charlie dangled the keys in front of my helpless eyes again. "There. Now you're REALLY stuck, fucktoy." I watched in horror, as she grinned evilly at me, closed her eyes, and tossed the keys over her shoulder...to land somewhere behind her...I hoped it was the grass, because I thought I heard a wet "plunk" from her nearby swimming pool.

"Hmmmmm!!" I protested impotently.

"Oh, darn," she said, melodramatically, "I seem to have lost the keys.. I guess you'll have to just stay like that, until I can somehow find them....you might be this way, forever. You DO make a sexy decoration in my back yard, after all," she purred, running her hands all over my helpless body.

"Mmm mmm mhmmm!!" I muffled, trying to ask if she was crazy.

She laughed a sultry, "you're mine" laugh, reaching behind her for a latex blindfold, which was soon buckled in place over my eyes, and cut me off completely from the outside world, sealing me tightly into darkness. I felt her hands run down my smooth, rubber-coated chest, and squealed into my gag as the warmth of her mouth enveloped the only exposed part of me, hungrily.

I might have lasted a minute, if that long. ...and Charlie greedily swallowed every drop.

After I exploded, I stopped my futile struggles, and my severe, unyielding bondage held me inescapably in place. As I relaxed(as much as one can, in my predicament), and panted desperately through my nose, I heard her say, "I'll be back in a little bit, sex toy. If you're hard again for me, I'll do that again." With that, she tightened what could only be a cock restraint around my exhausted penis, and was gone.

I had no frame of reference for how long she was away. I was in a post-orgasmic, bound-isolation-reinforced fog. I can only say that she did come back. My shaft was throbbing in its binding, but had not yet recovered. I moaned a little into my gag, as I felt her removing it, and taking my shaft in her hand to stroke it, gently. "I have a confession to make, lover."

I didn't miss that it was the first time she had ever referred to me in that manner, while I was gagged and tied up. When I was restrained, she usually called me some name that thoroughly objectified me, like "sex toy", or "fucktoy"--even "human dildo", once. Things like "lover" and "baby" were reserved for times outside the bedroom...cuddling, hanging out, dating, and such. Her voice was gentle, and apologetic. My lethargy left me immediately, as I grew concerned for my situation.

I felt her removing my blindfold. I blinked as my sight was restored, to see that she had changed clothing. Gone were her t-shirt and shorts. Her makeup was perfect, her long, golden mane was brushed into gentle tresses, and she was dressed in above-the-knee, black, suede, high-heeled boots that stopped about a foot from the hem of a gray, snug-fitting, long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder mini-dress that barely covered her perfect ass. A black, velvet choker adorned her lovely throat. She was, in a word, stunning. "Mmmmm?!?" I tried to say.

"I had hoped," she began, not making eye-contact with me, "that you really would be hard again when I came back from getting ready. A second orgasm would have made you really docile for what I am about to do. I apologize in advance, and I understand if you're angry." I almost thought I heard her voice break. "I had to remove the cock restraint, because you can't go that long with its blood flow restricted." What did she mean by, 'that long'?? "So, you know I have that party I have to attend, tonight..," she started, uneasily. There it was. I immediately started trying to talk. DAMN the gag. "I didn't want to have to go off after we'd had a fight. I thought this would be better, and we could fight about it when I got back. Know that you are in the right, and this is a shitty thing to do to you." I would have nodded, if I could have. "I just CAN'T have you trying to go with me, anyway. I don't like these people, but I don't have a choice. I HAVE to socialize with these slime-balls, for my position with the company. I much prefer your family and friends, but..well.. I have to." I hummed angrily. She pinched my nose, cutting off my air. "Shhhh, baby. I know." She released me, after I quieted. "You hate me, right now. All I can say is, if you still want me when I get back in a couple of hours, I'm yours. I hope you can forgive me. For what it's worth," she began, looking into my angry, almost hate-filled eyes for the first time since her announcement of betrayal, "I'm going to blow you good again, when I get back... before I let you out, of course." Were those TEARS in her eyes?

She turned to leave, me humming uselessly behind her. "Goodbye, sweetheart. I'll be back soon. I love you. Try to remember that."

...and with that, she was gone. I watched through the back windows as that perfect ass, those amazing legs, that gorgeous body, walk into the back door, across the kitchen and living room, and out the front door, all the while my impotent, immobile, muffled humming was chasing her as she went. For the next half hour, I made attempts to shift my bonds, but I already knew it was hopeless. The sack was custom made to just a bit less than my exact measurements, the straps were high-quality leather, and thick enough that all they did was creak quietly as I strained. The rubber of the bag was too thick for me to tear it with my fingernails, not that I could move my fingers, and since her well-manicured yard was soft grass, there would be no tearing it with my feet, either.

I was going NOWHERE, until she let me.

I tried to pass the time as best I could. Heaven help me, despite my ire, the whole situation had me turned on, but I couldn't do anything about it. My fantasies were pretty much confined to her, and since I was angrier with her than I had ever been with anyone, it just pissed me off, more. I could just make out her fancy wall clock in the kitchen, so I just watched the minutes tick by. I did the best I could to keep my mind occupied, but I was getting stiff, my body was starting to fall asleep in places, it was hard to breathe, and my jaw ached from the gag. I was also sweating something awful. It was a pleasant night out—somewhere in the 60s F—but I was HOT in my latex prison. I couldn't even feel what little breeze wasn't blocked by the house, because the only exposed parts of my body were my nostrils, an oval just big enough for each of my eyes, and my traitorous member, that kept obstinately getting hard at the whole situation.

An hour passed, then finally two, and I started looking for her. A third hour came and went, and I started to get concerned. By the end of the fourth hour, I began to grow scared something had happened to her. As angry as I was, I still loved her, and the thought of her hurt was terrifying, to say nothing of my own dangerous circumstance. Close to the end of the fifth hour, I finally saw car lights pull in, but they didn't belong to her Porsche. I heard her say something, but the combination of the distance, the intervening house, and the fact that my ears were covered with latex, I couldn't make out what it was. I saw the front door open, just as the car pulled away. A brief glimpse as the car passed the out showed me that it was a taxi. She walked inside, and I noticed immediately how unsteady she was. She stumbled across the living room, and turned the corner, vanishing from sight. Almost immediately, she reappeared, making gestures that suggested she had “forgotten something”, and started my way. She stumbled, then sat on a chair, and fumbled her high-heeled boots off. Now barefoot, except for her stockings, she looked my way, smiled brightly, and waved....then giggled. She got up, weaved to the couch, and fell over. SHE WAS DRUNK. I never knew her to get drunk, except when she was REALLY upset about something, and I guessed what that something was. At least she'd been sober enough not to drive that sports car. She had fallen over onto the couch, and I waited for her to get up and come let me out. It dawned on me that she would have to find those keys. In the state she was in, that would be...problematic. I let out a muffled groan, and waited a bit longer.

...and waited...

...and waited...

I muffled into my gag, but I knew it was useless, with the closed door between me and her. I saw her arm flop over the arm of the couch, realizing she had rolled over...and gone. To. SLEEP.

If I weren't angry before, now I was furious. Granted the situation had some humor to it, but I couldn't see it through the red haze. I forced myself to calm, realizing how restricted my breathing was, and resigned myself to long wait.

Honestly, I expected to have to endure my precarious state until morning, but as luck would have it, I saw her sit up about two hours later. Her hair was a wreck, and she placed her hand on her forehead, clearly in a lot of pain. She rose groggily to her feet, and stumbled to her sink for some water to hopefully stave off the hangover. She groped in the cabinets for aspirin, and swallowed a few. She stared out the window over the sink—which faces a part of the yard at a ninety-degree angle to me, and seemed to think about something. “That's right, Charlie. You've forgotten something,” I thought, angrily. With a start, she raised her head, and jerked her face in my direction, a look of abject terror on her face. “That's right. You left me like this for six hours,” I seethed, silently.

She ran outside, and was a babbling string of apologies, 'please forgive me's, and “keys...keys..keys..omiGod where are the keys??” She actually tried asking me... ME... I tried the best I could to indicate in the direction of the pool. Fortunately, she had the presence of mind to turn on the rest of the outside lights, including the ones in the pool. She placed her hand over her mouth and gasped. Without hesitation, she peeled her dress off, and leapt into the chill water, wearing only her strapless bra, stockings, choker, and thong. She came up sputtering, the keyring in her hand. Heaven help me she was sexy, climbing out of that water like some kind of mythical nymph, her honey-colored hair hanging in damp rivulets down her bare shoulders.

Charlie rushed over, and began quickly releasing me, dropping the locks and straps to the ground. She had to catch me, because what wasn't numb, was stiff and weak. She lowered me to the soft grass, and released me from the bag, finally removing my gag. Sweat poured out of the bag and hood. My hair and body were soaked. She helped me to unsteady feet, still apologizing. I said not a word, until we were inside the cool kitchen.

“Water,” I rasped. Dehydration had begun to set in. She got me a glass, and I drank greedily, as she continued to inundate me with apologies, questions about my well-being, and promises to make it up to me....and impassioned pleas to not hate her and not leave her. I croaked, “bathroom”, and she helped me get there, giving me a bit of privacy, but I could hear her, sniffling, just outside the door. When I flushed, she opened the door to tend to me some more. My next word was “shower”, and she actually stripped, and accompanied me into the hot, reviving spray, helping me rinse away my ordeal. In the shower she was silent except for the occasional apology, but started up with her begging for forgiveness as she was helping me dry off. In the end, she actually laid me down in her bed—unbound for the first time since our very first night together, mind you—and cuddled up next to me. She even tried unsuccessfully to give me the promised blowjob as I drifted off to deep restorative sleep.

I awoke to her tear-filled eyes, and she immediately renewed her attempts to gain my forgiveness, claiming that she never intended for me to be where I was more than a couple of hours, that she knew how dangerous it was, and so on. I had remained silent the whole time, until finally, “Charlie, I trusted you...”

“I know, I...” I cut her off with a raised palm.

“Let me finish. I love you. I love you so much that I don't have the words to describe it, but I trusted you, and you let me down. I gave you a level of trust that is unparalleled between two people—I trusted you with my freedom, my very life. You betrayed that trust in the worst, possible way,” I continued. I could tell that last had stung her deeply, as the tears began to fall silently down her cheeks. “How can I ever trust you with our kind of play again? How can I know that you won't do that a second time?”

“Baby, I'll do anything. Just tell me what you want, and I'll do it.”

I had an idea, but I wasn't sure she'd agree. It was an idea that came from a place of spiteful vengeance, and I am not proud of that fact. “Anything?” I asked with emphasis.

She sat up, naked except for her choker, vulnerable, and beautiful, her tear-moistened cheeks a testament to her remorse. Heaven help me, I did love her, but my hurt demanded that a lesson needed to be learned. “Whatever it takes to make you trust me again, I'll do it,” she said determinedly.

“Put on the outfit you wore last night, and let me tie you up in it, any way I want, for as long as I want, and do anyTHING to you I want. You can even choose your own gag.”

Every time I had ever broached the subject of her being on the receiving end of our tie-up games, she had flatly refused. I expected her to refuse, to beg, to try and negotiate, or something. ...but no, my Charlie closed her eyes for a few seconds, as if in deep thought, then got up, grabbed her sweater dress and boots, and made a grab for her underwear.

“No, nothing under it. Just the dress and boots.”

She dropped them, and slipped into the bathroom. When she returned, I saw that she had reapplied her makeup, and brushed out her hair. She had also added a pair of thigh-high, fishnet stockings beneath her boots—a particular soft spot of mine. She had taken time to look her best for me, even though she clearly did not want to do this. She stood there, arms hugging herself, eyes downcast, waiting for what was to come. I started with the gag she chose—every bit as big as the one I had endured—and moved toward her. As I brought the black, shiny ball to her lips, she finally spoke.

“Please..,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

I paused. “What's wrong, sweetheart?” I whispered, as she brightened infinitesimally at my use of a pet name.

She finally looked at me, eyes welling with tears. “Please...don't hurt me.”

I broke. I dropped the ball gag, and gathered her into my arms, tightly. “Oh, Charlie,” I began, threatening to cry at her response, “I would never hurt you.” I held her tighter. “It's okay. We don't have to do this. It's enough that you were willing to.”

Her warm, slight body, which had been positively wooden up to this point, finally relaxed in my arms. She sighed, and if it's possible to feel someone smile as you hug them, that's what it felt like. She took a deep breath, and pushed away from me. “No,” she said, reaching down to retrieve the gag, holding it out to me, “I deserve this.” I tried to protest, but she stopped me with a soft finger to my lips. “Shhh. I do. I...,” she started, then stared at the gag in her hand, then back to me, “I NEED this.” With that, she put the ball in her own mouth, and fed the straps beneath her luscious mane, buckling it every bit as tightly as she had done to me, so many times.

Now silenced, she looked to me with determination in her eyes. I retrieved a silk scarf from her dresser, circled behind her, and blindfolded her securely with it. As I did so, I placed my hands gently on her bare shoulders, leaned in, kissed her neck, and whispered, “if you are in any distress, and need to stop, snap your fingers, or hum a song into your gag. We'll see how long you can last,” I breathed into her ear as I lightly nibbled her earlobe. A muffled moan escaped her gag, as I pulled open her “bondage-toy cabinet”, and began sorting cotton ropes. I drew her hands behind her, and began binding her.

...which is how we got to where we are, now. Charlie hasn't tapped out yet. I've told her that she has to give up, or I'm not untying her, and I guess her competitive nature, and perhaps her own need to feel punished for what she put me through is still winning out. She's at my feet, still every bit the goddess she's always been, wrapped in yards upon yards of tight ropes, arched in a brutal, immobilizing hogtie. Both of her most wicked vibrators are buzzing away inside her and roped securely in place, and I added a clitoral vibrator held in place with medial tape and rope, for good measure. Her hair is in a pony-tail, which is anchored to her wrists, the heels of her boots are anchored to her shoulders, her legs are figuratively welded together, and her shins are bound to her thighs. At one point, I informed her that I was taking away her safe signal, and wrapped her hands into tight fists with the medical tape. She would now have to grunt “Mary Had A Little Lamb” into her gag. Humiliating, I know, but she'll have to do it...and she desperately doesn't want to. As of that point, she can barely move a muscle, much like I was.

Oh, I've given her a break from her gag, so don't worry for her. I'm not a monster. I did, however, replace it with a ring-gag, large enough for me to use her mouth for my own...enjoyment. I grabbed her by the hair, and, at the risk of sounding crass, fucked her mouth good. Judging by the little moans that escaped her around my “tender attentions”, she enjoyed it somewhat, too. When I was done, I replaced it with her underwear from the previous night, held in place by microfoam tape. When I am ready again, the ring-gag goes back in, I'll take what I want, and then probably replace the ball gag—she might as well not get TOO comfortable, right? I've warned her not to speak while I'm changing her gags, or I'll turn up all the vibrators. I think she's wrestling with that thought, because she acted like she was about to say something the last time. She also gets a fiercely-passionate kiss, every time I swap her gags. She acts hungrier for those, each time.

She's entering her fourth hour in that hogtie, and I have filled her throat twice, now...I've lost count of how many orgasms she's had, and she's begun whimpering into her gag as they wash over her. I've told her again and again that all she has to do is give up, give me her signal, and I'll release her in seconds—I have my rescue knife at my fingertips. She has shaken her head 'no'(as best she can) with a growl, every time... the last time, she seemed almost angry about it. I fully intend to have a long conversation about who hurt her and how, that so clearly made her so reluctant to allow herself to be tied up. That is for another time, though. For now, I think the little minx is trying to see if she can outlast me. Her climaxes are further apart now, but they seem to be harder. She's actually started crying a couple of times, and shaking her head 'no'(again, as best she can) as they hit her. I even took pity on her once, and moved to release her. She growled angrily, and jerked away from me. Man, she's determined...

Oh well... I'm getting worked up again. Time to change her gag...

Marigold
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Posts: 29
Joined: 02 Jan 2009, 09:06

Re: Fancy Dinner

Unread post by Marigold »

A fantastic and realistic story. More please!

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boundBinder
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Posts: 572
Joined: 15 Jun 2009, 10:42

Re: Fancy Dinner

Unread post by boundBinder »

Thank you for the kind words. I had four, total stories left from my old account. I have posted three(this one, "Dad's Maid", and "Abandoned House", and am about to post the last one.

Thank you, again. I cannot adequately describe how much it means to me to get positive responses like this to my writing.

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