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The Seduction of Kim all who enter here, welcome. This post is an an actual, longstanding fantasy of mine for a little MILF I worked with for many . She had kind of a fan club around the office, myself and several other guys periodically postulating on the possibility of slipping it in. The names have NOT been changed, as there are no innocents protect. If they figure who I am, and that they are included in this little perversion, so be it. Tom would be livid, of course. Kim, I don’t know. I like to think it would haunt her, coming at night, lying awake as he snores next to her, finger sliding on a slippery clit. I hope you enjoy, and if you do please feel free to comment. This story is serialized (it kinda goes on forever, so I have to decide when enough is enough), so follow my blog to get future updates. Chapter 1 - The Setup  “Hey, Kim, how are you doing today?” I asked as I passed the receptionist’s des She looked a little miffed. “Tim’s being an asshole again. You know, usually I don’t mind him checking out – it makes feel kinda sexy – but today he practically leaned over the desk to leer down my blouse. It was just creepy.” “C’mon, Kimmie, that’s just Tim being Tim. He’s in his fifties, and he’s not going to stop being a man-slut at this stage of his life. He just thinks you’re hot.” “And he’s not the one.” I added after a brief pause. Her cheeks blushed pink, as if she didn’t know or believe it. Five-foot-four, about a hundred pounds; 34B tits; nice flat tummy; well-defined hips and waist, with an ass to die for; she had the whole package. Dean in the toolroom told he used live on an abutting lot with her and Tom, back-to-back, and he would watch her working in the garden in her bikini. He said he could watch for hours, just hard as a roc I’m sure he jacked off it more than once. The black skirt she wore today was mid-thigh, with a front slit riding about four inches up the right thigh. The top of the slit revealed just a hint of lace at the tops of the sheer black stockings, with her feet clad in a pair of elegant five-inch heels. Top it off with a black jacket over a simple white blouse, unbuttoned just enough to allow a glimpse of more lace. Stunning. “I catch you guys looking,” she blushed, “it does feel good, especially at my age.” You had to admit that at thirty-eight, she was still smokin’. “So what are you up to this weekend?” I asked. “Not sure. Tom’s heading off grouse hunting with his buddies, so I’m kind of on my own,” She said it with a hint of regret, or maybe indignation? She gave the impression of someone who’d been abandoned for “the guys” once too often. “You don’t seem too happy about it,” I prodded. “Last summer it was fishing, now it’s hunting. After the holidays it’ll be ice fishing and then it’s spring and guess what? Fishing season again. I swear I spend more than half my weekends alone.” “At least you get the half to spend with somebody, Kim. When you’re divorced it’s every weekend.” “Hey, we should do something tonight,” she blurted. “Like what? I was just planning to grill some burgers and chill on the patio,” I replied. “That sounds really good, actually,” she shot bac “Got an extra burger, sir?” The inflection of the query made my pants twitch. “Absolutely,” I replied as quickly, my heart and mind racing with the possibilities of being alone with Kim in my own home. The sudden shock of realization was overwhelming, an absolute wet dream come true, so close and yet so far. I’d rubbed one out her image in my mind so many times and now here she was asking join at home. “This could be a lot of fun. Let’s try get out of here a little early. You can stop and get yourself a bottle of wine, and I’ll go home and start getting the food ready. We’ll make a party out of it.” “We can shoot for o’clock; this place is pretty dead,” she said, beaming up at from her chair. “Kathy can cover for until five.” “Sounds great.” I headed back my desk, the wheels already turning. How seduce her, what strategy? There was utterly no question that I would. I’d done this more than a dozen times, lured a hesitant damsel into my lair. This one was much more exciting - and challenging - than any of the others, because here she was unsuspecting. The other girls were seduced on Alt., and they knew full well what they were getting into. Kim had no idea that I even had a lair. The wine will help; I’ve seen her at company parties, and she gets really “bubbly” and flirty when she gets a couple of glasses of wine under her belt. The little black dress at last Christmas’ party was an added bonus. Since she had no idea of the kinky things I’m into, I needed a way to broach the subject without being too overt about it. That would require some careful thought and real finesse. Once broached, then how to get her curiosity up? I was completely preoccupied for the balance of my day. At five minutes to I couldn’t take it anymore. I slid my laptop and some papers in my briefcase and stood up to leave. “See you in a bit, Kim,” I said on the way past the reception des “Kathy’s in meetings so she can’t cover for me. Dennis says I can leave at four, so I’ll be a little while yet,” she replied, “Sorry.” “No worries. That’ll give me a little time clean up before you arrive. when you’re on your way.” I got in my car and drove straight home. As I laid out the ingredients for dinner, I started formulate a plan. I got out a large tray; plates, forks, knives, wine glasses and a couple of nice cloth napkins; cut onion and tomato; got the ketchup and mustard out of the fridge; set a head of lettuce on a paper plate. Burgers formed and beans into a pot, both in the fridge ready to place on the grill. I headed down to the walkout basement with the tray, setting everything out on the patio table. Freed of the chore of fixing dinner, I shifted my focus to the task of setting the bait. I crossed the unfinished family room and opened the door to the “utility” room. A long row of hooks on the far wall displayed all the BDSM paraphernalia I’d collected over the . I chose a simple pair of Velcro cuffs, a double-ended , a red ball gag, and the leather patch blindfold. Clipping the cuffs on one end of the and the gag and blindfold on the other end, I went back the family room and set the items on my desk, right behind the keyboard where they’d be readily seen. I went the kitchen fixed myself a Captain-Coke, then grabbed the headset and headed down the patio wait and anticipate. Chapter 2 - Arrival She showed up about four-twenty – must have snuck out early – and when I called out her and she rounded the corner of the garage on her way the patio, I was disappointed see that she’d shed the heels for a pair of black and pink workout shoes. I consoled myself with the assurance that this would change later. “How ya doin’, Kimmie!?” I asked, standing up from my patio chair. “Thanks for coming out.” “Much better now,” she replied. Do you have a wine glass? – ah, never mind, already out. Unfortunately, I need a corkscrew too.” I reached in my pocket and pulled out my Leatherman tool, nimbly folding out the corkscrew with one hand while reaching for the bottle with the other. “I’ll get that,” I said as she handed the bottle, and in a few seconds the cork was popped. She held out her glass be filled. “’Be Prepared’, that’s the Scout motto,” I grinned. She smiled back sweetly, and then settled back in her chair and took a long drink of the cool white wine. “Ahhhhh,” she sighed as she lowered the glass from her lips. “I needed that. It’s been kind of a long .” “I forgot the wine cooler. Excuse for a minute,” I said, and slipped upstairs to get it. When I emerged on the patio she was refilling her glass. Another long draw. “Maybe you don’t need this ice to keep it cool, Kim. The bottle’s half-gone already,” I observed. She took another slow drin “A couple of glasses prime the pump,” she said, “and I’ll dial it back a notch.” Chapter 3 - The Bait  We sat and chatted a while, starting with and school. Her youngest of daughters had started college that fall. My was just entering 7th grade. The conversation moved on work and when it started peter out, I offered, “would you like the Nickel Tour?” “Sure,” she replied, “I’ve never seen your place before.” “Might as well start outside, since you have your tenny-runners on.” I stood up and led the way across the lawn to the pole building that acted as a shop and barn for the hobby farm. We entered through the side door into the shop. It was neat and clean, well-organized for a change, the only things lying about were some aluminum pieces on the workbench along with a propane torch and a small pot half full of cold lead. I doubt she recognized it as a 2 oz. weight mold that I’d recently made. The past Wednesday evening I’d worked out here late, casting up twenty or so to hang from nipple clamps. Passing through the door in the back wall of the shed, we entered the barn. Rocky was in his stall, contentedly picking dinner from his hay net. He nickered as we came in. “What a beautiful ”, she chirped, surprised, “I didn’t know you had one.” “Just him and the cat. And I don’t know if can exactly call him “beautiful”, he’s just an old Amish buggy . But he’s bomb-proof. After of trotting along the roads, nothing spooks him.” She stroked the soft fur on the tip of his nose gently, then reached up scratch behind his ears. His eyes half-closed in rapture. Turning head out the side door of the barn, she stepped square in a pile of Rocky’s -apples. “Shit,” she barked. “Literally,” I said, smiling. “Well, you won’t be wearing those shoes in the house.” I reveled in the chance get her back in her heels. We strolled back across the yard the driveway, and as we were passing her car I offered, “You should grab your other shoes. I wouldn’t want you get you feet all dirty on my filthy floor.” “Good idea, I’ll get them,” she replied, popping the car door. A few seconds later she was standing five inches taller and striding through the door and into my kitchen. I showed her the various features, then moved on to the den and back through the living room. From there I followed her up the steps (what a view!!) to the second floor. A true -story, it consisted of bedrooms, the main bath and a master bath, with a -story vault over the foyer. “I really like your place, especially the big windows by the bed,” she said. The bed sat in the southeast corner of the Master Bedroom, with no headboard or footboard, because there were large, low windows at the head and one side that allowed the occupants to simply roll on their side and peruse the country view in morning sunshine. “I could wake up here in the mornings,” she stated as we turned back towards the stairs. She didn’t seem to notice the eye hooks strategically inserted in the ceiling on either side of both windows. Attachment for, well, you know. “And lastly, the basement. Not much see down here,” I said as I opened the basement door, “it hasn’t been finished yet.” In truth, the most important thing for her see resided in the basement – the strategically-placed icebreaker of cuffs ‘n’ such. She clomped down the bare wooden steps, holding the handrail balance herself on the tall heels, making the right turn at the landing for the last treads down bare cement. This future room was large, about x 24, running the full length and half the depth of the house. It was a walkout, so the sliding door the patio was centered in the south wall, with a window on either side. There was a closed door on the opposite wall that led my “lair”. This was a room she couldn’t be allowed see until I was ready, or she was likely run from the premises screaming in shoc All I was looking for was innocent curiosity start. “Furnace and water heater back there, and all my jun I won’t show you my messy side,” I dodged. My desk sat in the far corner of the room, with a simple office chair and a filing cabinet. I could catch a glimpse of the bright red ball gag lying there as I sauntered toward it. “And this is where I get my work done,” I said, waving a hand across my domain. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her catch a glimpse of red gag, her attention drawn to it. She stared for a short moment. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears, waiting excitedly for her reaction. “Well this doesn’t look like work!” She reached down and snatched up the collection in her hand, jumping aside and turning away to keep me from getting at it. “This looks more like fun!” I feigned embarrassment as I half-heartedly tried to take it back from her, knowing full well that I wanted it in her hands, I wanted her curiosity aroused. “C’mon, Kimmie, give me that stuff – let me put it away. You weren’t supposed to see that,” I pleaded. “This is kinky stuff, isn’t it,” she asked, her eyes widening. “You’re one of THOSE guys, aren’t you? What is all this stuff?” The Nickel Tour. That was the strategy I’d settled on, and it was working like a charm. Here she stood, all dolled up, fondling the toys, asking what it’s all about. “Those are Velcro cuffs; that’s a ball gag; that’s what they call a “leather-patch” blindfold. Very comfortable, very secure,” I offered. “Girls just let you put these on them?” she asked, a little incredulous. “Oh yeah, they’re happy to do it. It’s very exciting, Kim. Some girls really get into it.” Her curiosity was building. She unsnapped the cuffs and set the other items back on the des The ripping sound the Velcro made as she unfastened the first cuff made my cock jump in my pants. I hoped she hadn’t noticed, but she was too busy wrapping the cuff around her left wrist and squeezing to seal it in place. Her wedding band caught the light just right and glinted in my eye. My cock twitched again. I casually reached onto the desk and picked up the double-ended . “This goes here,” I told her as I clipped it on the metal ring of the single cuff. She shook her hand a little to see it jiggle around. One step closer! A second sound reminiscent of tearing, another jump of the cock, and the other cuff was wrapped around her right wrist. I hoped she didn’t notice I was sweating and breathing rapidly. She put her wrists together and extended her hands toward me, dangling them invitingly. “I want to see what it’s like,” she cooed. I calmly reached up and snapped her wrists together. Instinctively, she jerked against them to test their strength. Safe and secure. ”Interesting,” was all she had to say. Another twitch in my pants. Chapter 4 – The Grand Bargain  She continued to playfully tug at the restraint, not yet fully understanding that she really was bound, couldn’t get loose if she wanted – or needed – to. I started circling slowly, taking in the view. That made her nervous and she turned slowly to stay facing me. “Easy, Kim, easy. Just checkin’ things out. Stay facing forward.” I said. She turned back toward the unfinished room and nervously pulled against the cuffs. I continued to circle, very slowly, scanning her up and down. On the third pass around the back, I quickly and quietly reached my left arm through the crook of her left elbow and grabbed her around the right bicep. Her hands, bound in the front, were now instantly pinned to her hips. “What the hell?” she gasped, struggling pretty good now. “What are you doing?” I was taking off my belt and threading it through her elbows, around twice, then buckling it in the bac When I let it go she stumbled away on the tall heels, shoulders back, chest out, arms useless for maintaining balance. The look of surprise and fear on her face said it all – shit’s getting real! She struggled against the newly enhanced restraints, fingers grasping, hands flapping. That’s about all she could manage. “So, what do you think?” I asked. “I think you should let go, right now!” She replied. “No.” “Please Dave, I can’t do this.” She stumbled a little now, trying stay facing as I continued circle. “I’m married, it isn’t right.” She said. “Can’t do what, Kim? What are we doing? Just friends talking, right? ‘Experiencing’, right?” I asked. “Talking? You want do more than talk! I know what you do with the girls you tie up.” She said, a little frantically. “Oh? And what is it that I do with them?” “You know,” she mumbled, looking at the floor. I turned look her straight in the eye. “No, I don’t. Enlighten .” Her eyes aimlessly scanned the floor, avoiding my gaze. “You have sex with them.” She whispered, nearly inaudible. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. What was that?” I demanded. “You have sex with them.” She stated more emphatically, eyes locking on mine. “Well that’s I nice way put it, Kim. ‘Have sex with them’. Yes, I do fuck them. I fuck their mouths and their deep throats; I tunnel into their dripping pussies; I long-stroke their tight little asses; so yes, I ‘have sex’ with them.” She was looking really scared now. I took a step towards her and she recoiled, turning to stay facing as she backed away, for all intents and purposes a trapped animal. We stood there staring at each other for a few seconds, both our breathing deep and purposeful. I walked past her and into the dungeon, grabbed a pre-packed bag and a small, heavy case, and went back to the family room. Kim was halfway up the basement steps already, bound hands and all. Her skirt was riding up the back of her thighs, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. I stood at the foot of the stairs grinning up at her, and she kept her eye on me until she reached the top of the steps, then stumbled out toward the kitchen. “Go ahead, Kim. Go on upstairs, I’ll be right up.” I called, then I went out to the patio and sat down to finish my Captain-Coke. From my position on the patio, I could hear her making her ‘escape’. First, I heard her heels clomping across the kitchen. It took her a minute to manage the doorknob all hogtied, then clomp-clomp-clomp down the wooden steps to the garage floor. Now a different tone of heels clicking on hard cement, followed by the crunch of gravel. The car door opens. The car door closes, the crunch of gravel, the click of cement – she’s headed back to the house. She forgot the keys! As she clomped up the garage steps and got herself back in the kitchen, I strolled around the corner from the patio and leaned up against the garage, out of sight from the inside. A repeat of the struggle with the doorknob, clomp-clomp-clomp-click-click-click-click-click-crunch-crunch . . . “Where do you think you’re going, Kim?” She stops dead in her tracks, halfway to the door handle, keys dangling from her immobile hand. “How did you think you would get the key in the ignition, much less steer if, god forbid, you actually managed to get it rolling.” She turned to face me again, still holding the keys, skirt still riding up. A seductive patch of white skin shone at the top of the thigh slit, lace for a short distance and then sheer black nylon the rest of the way down to her shiny black heels, out of place on the gravel driveway. A car drives by on the road. We both turn to see if the driver noticed anything; oblivious. I take a step towards her. She’s trembling now, a tear rolling down her chee She doesn’t recoil. “Come back in the house, Kimmie.” She feebly releases the keys into my hand. I reach down with both my hands and pull her skirt down where it belongs, smoothing the fabric over her ass. “Thank you,” she whispers. I take her by the arm and lead her back through the garage. Closing the door behind us, I lead her over to sit on the couch. Still bound, of course, hands still useless, but nothing freaky going on, nothing threatening. She was starting to calm down a little bit. She looked up at me from the couch, gave the bonds another futile tug, and said, “Please let me go, Dave. I’m married; I can’t do this.” “The last time I checked, rings don’t plug holes,” I told her sardonically. Her blouse was stretched tight across her chest, and I could just make out the little bumps of her nipples through the taut lace fabric. The buttons were strained. She started whimpering now, muttering over and over, “Please let me go, please let me go,” and pulling in vain against the leather that held her tight. “I’m not going to let you go, but I am going to make you a deal, Kim.” As I spoke, I grabbed one of the kitchen chairs and sat down opposite her, backwards on the chair. She looked back at me pleadingly, no longer struggling. “I’ll agree to not have sex with you. I’ve done it for other girls, I can do it for you too.” She got a quizzical look on her now as she pondered the offer for a brief moment, and then asked, “But what do I have to do?” “In exchange for my making the ultimate sacrifice to keep your Purity intact, you agree to willingly submit to whatever other kinky thing that crosses my mind, short of penile penetration. No ‘let me go’, no ‘please, I’m married’,” I said. “I don’t fuck you, and you do anything else I want; you participate freely. That’s the deal.” She was thinking. I waited. “And you get the ‘full experience’,” I reinforced. “And if I don’t accept?” she asked. “Then I do what I want anyway, including taking you, and nobody has any fun and Dave goes to jail and the whole thing gets really, really ugly.” I said. A long silence; seemed like forever. “This way, you can get an intense BDSM experience, with no ‘sex’, and you can decide for yourself if it’s something that trips your trigger.” More long pause “And you don’t get violated.” “O” The silence had lasted an eternity while she’d mulled it over. The final decision was that it’s better endure a little pain, possibly some pleasure, while avoiding being violated. “Excellent. So you want The Full Experience, then.” A statement, not a question. “Yes.” “OK, then. First rule, Silence. You don’t speak unless spoken . Do you understand?”” I walked across the living room a camera that was standing in the corner, rather innocuously. It was a video-enabled DSLR, so it looked like a still camera, but had actually been recording the whole time. After adjusting the tripod the desired height, I flipped the screen around so she could see the image, and understand what was happening. “No way, no pictures. I never signed up for that!” she screeched. I left her staring at herself as I retrieved a second camera and got it set up as well, at a different angle, and turned my attention back the bound bitch still squawking in the viewfinder. I grabbed a big fistful of hair and twisted, eliciting a squeal of pain and surprise from her lips. She tried pull away but I just jerked her back by the hair. “You signed up do anything but fuck, and that includes this, little lady. You’re going be my Little Bondage Porn Star.” “Stand up!” I commanded, letting go of her hair. She stood up, and I went in the bag for a couple of goodies. I came up with a pair of ankle cuffs, ones with a special elastic strap to retain the heels and make sure she doesn’t lose her slut-shoes when things get . . . active. Having fitted those, the other item was a short nylon strap. I snapped it around her legs just above the knee and pulled it snug. Now she was hobbled. “Fuck,” she muttered. My hand snapped up and grabbed her chin, pulling her face to mine. “Did I give you permission to speak?” I barked. “No,” she replied. “No, what?” I growled, squeezing her chin ‘til it hurt a little. “No . . . sir,” she said. I let go of her chin and reached for the top button of her blouse. It was strained so tight that it popped the instant I touched it. A glimpse of soft breast framed by black lace, rising and falling with her deep breathing. She stared back at me somewhat terrified. The second button, same deal – a little flick of the finger and ‘pop’. A surprised moan, and a look down at her own exposed flesh. “Silence,” I reminded her. This button revealed a thin bridge between the lace cups of the bra, and a shiny piece of black metal. Front hook! I slid my hand under her blouse and cupped the small breast, probing for the nipple. Having found it, I rolled the little button back and forth in my fingers through the lace. Another soft moan. “Shhhhhh.” I slid my finger under the clasp between her tits and tugged, leading her out to the middle of the floor. She shuffled forward, kind of rocking back and forth to move her feet, knees held tightly together. I stopped her, un-did the rest of the blouse buttons and pulled the tails free of her bonds. Moving to the back, I gathered the loose cloth between her arms in a kind of ponytail, then tied it in a loose overhand knot centered in her bac No worries now about the blouse getting in the way. Moving back the front, I stopped for a moment and surveyed my handiwor Not bad. Almost there. I reached out and deftly unhooked the bra, letting the elastic the cups free from her tits. They flew off and settled under her armpits, her tits jiggling a standstill, small brown nipples standing proud. Getting closer. Opening the heavy case, I pulled out a fringed leather collar and fastened it tightly around her nec This wasn’t your normal fringed collar, some lightweight buckskin thing that a 60’s hippie would wear. This was a heavy, padded, black leather collar with a secure buckle in the bac inches wide, it covered her entire nec rings encircled the front hemisphere of the collar, and from each ring hung a tear-drop shaped weight, 2 oz. each. She stretched her neck a bit, moving her head around get accustomed to the 2+lb. load. A silver chain adorned the weighted necklace, suspended between strangely shaped (and oddly large) clasps either end of the ‘fringe’. “Wow, that’s heavy, sir,” she said softly. “Very good, Kim you’re learning the rules.” She grinned. “Do you know what these weights are for?” I knew the answer. “No, sir.” “Do you like your new collar?” “It’s very heavy, sir.” “Yes, we’ve covered that ground already, Kim. Do you know what the chain is for?” She craned her neck down but could just see the chain suspended above her cleavage. Everything attached the collar, including the odd clasps, was hidden her chin. “No, sir.” I reached up and gripped the clover clamps, one in each hand, and squeezing them open, pulled them down from the collar, closing them slowly, directly in front of her eyes. Her gaze was fixated and afraid. She knew instinctively what they were and recoiled. It was a pretty weak recoil, though. Too tightly bound, and an agreement in place. Slinging the chain over my shoulder, I used both hands to roll her soft, brown nipples around in my fingers. Perfect. Fleshy and brown, about the size of a quarter, with nice pronounced tips. I let go of her nipples and stepped back, leaving her swaying a little, unsteady. Another pause to assess progress. Arms pinned, still (and always). Blouse irrelevant. Bra irrelevant. Nipples perfect and jutting out involuntarily due to the elbow strap. Undisturbed from the waist down, save the hobble strap at the knee, and of course the heel-retaining ankle cuffs for when things get . . . active. Gripping the left nipple sideways, just the tip, I stretched it out and gauged the reaction. Not pain, not yet. I wasn’t gripping it that hard. Trepidation, maybe. Squeezing the clamp open, I slid it the thumb and forefinger holding the nipple, positioning it just the tip in the fleshy brown base. I tilted the clamp in, toward her chest, and slowly relaxed my hand. “Shhhhhhh.” A grimace. A sharp draw of breath. A quick pant – ‘hah-hah-hah’. I let the second clamp dangle from the chain, and stepped back to allow the full force of her first-ever nipple pain to sink in. The angle of the clamp on the nipple caused it to twist up, increasing the stimulation. The chain jiggled invitingly. More panting. More pronounced breathing. Borderline verbal expression. “Shhhhhhh.” I scooped up the second clamp and fastened in a like manner. More grimacing. More panting. Blah, blah, blah. “I taught you what the chain is for, didn’t I, Kim? Do you think you’ve figured what the weights are for?” I asked. “For the chain, sir,” she breathed. “They’re for the chain.” “Very perceptive. And do you know how many there are?” “No, sir.” “.” A gasp. “They weigh ounces each. Do the math.” More gasping, almost hyperventilating. Waiting. “Well?” “ pounds, sir,” she whimpered. I reached up and removed a weight from each of the far ends of the ‘fringe’. Her breathing quickened perceptibly as I dragged them down her chest, intentionally bumping the clamps on the way past. The elbow strap prevented her maneuvering avoid the inevitable. Another hard grimace as the weight is slowly applied. Another deep breath sucked through clenched teeth. Another pause assess progress. Stripped from the waist up, but still fully clothed. Arms tightly bound. Nipples clamped and weighted. Submissively awaiting instruction. One final accessory. The egg-shaped red ball gag slid easily between her teeth, and I pulled the straps tight before buckling. She could barely wrap her lips around it, and even when she could, the dribble groove ensured she’d get good and sloppy. Trying swallow just caused the spittle spurt the groove. A thin, shiny line was already coursing down her chin. Now we’re ready! Chapter 5 – The Reward for Acceptance  Moving around behind her, I bent over and unhooked the hobble strap. She spaced her feet apart a little. A tit jiggle. A grimace. A gasp. I put my hands on her hips and ground my bulging crotch into her ass. A tit jiggle. A whimper. “You feel that, Kim?” I asked. No response; I let it slide. “That’s my cock, screaming at for release. Begging to slide him somewhere and wet and tight.” I found the tab of her zipper and slowly ratcheted it down the crack of her ass. Leaving the hook at the top fastened, I pulled the cloth aside to reveal what lay beneath. The black lace appeared magically at the top of her ass crack, then spread up and in a traditional thong pattern. Unable to stand it any longer, I unbuckled my pants to let my cock untangle. “What are you doing??” she mumbled through the gag. A dribble off the chin. “Nothing,” I said, “just rearranging my package. It’s so twisted around it hurts.” Pants still open, but cock now standing erect and poking of my underwear, I laid it in the trough of her ass crack and slowly started to hump. “No. You promised,” she mumbled. Knowing the importance of that promise, and the trust it engenders, I backed off and settled in to the work at hand. Reaching down with both hands, I unhooked her skirt. “Feet together.” She complied and I lowered my hands, letting the skirt slip until the waistband was at the apex of her ass cheeks. “Spread your legs apart enough to hold it in place.” Compliance. “That’s good. Now don’t let it fall, no matter what happens. If it falls, you’re in trouble. Do you understand?” “Yes, sir,” she said. “Well, I don’t think you do, but you’re likely to find later,” I shot bac A frightened expression. A twitching coc “Bend over a little.” She complied, and the front of her skirt flopped down, revealing the front arc of her thong, rising of her crotch over her hips swoop down the back and ride the valley back its origin. I slid my hands wantonly over her body, exploring every curve, conspicuously pushing her just a little off-balance, to see the weights swing and the reaction the swinging evoked. I ran those hands up over her exposed belly, sliding them to her armpits, pressing the breasts inward on the way, circling around to cup them, push them up, then running the hands down deep the lowered skirt, sliding along tender inner things, dragging my cupped hand firmly over her mound as I withdrew for another round. It was and wet. Her breathing was becoming urgent. On this latest round of pawing, my hand slid the waistband of her thong and proceeded down the naked flesh toward her slit. Naked this flesh most certainly was – there wasn’t a hair to be felt! “Shaved,” I whispered in her ear. “This is your reward for agreeing to the terms of our little contract.” She moaned and humped her pussy against my hand. As her clit passed up onto my middle finger, slickness coated the digit and it slid effortlessly against her little nub. A moan escaped her lips. “Shhhhhhh. You know the rules, silence unless spoken to.” The sliding of the finger intensifies. Digging a couple up in there, pulling hard. She’s really worked up now, humping my hand even though it makes the nipples get tugged. Her knees buckle a little and the skirt slips. She quickly catches it. “No, no, no,” I remind her, “don’t let it fall.” She spreads her feet wider apart, stretching the fabric across her ass. I worry that she might break the zipper. She doesn’t seem that concerned about it, unashamedly bucking against my hand the way she is. The slickness is insane now. I can feel her snatch starting to clench at my fingers. Sliding them out, I open my hand flat and rub it furiously back and forth across the of her pussy, scrubbing her clit. She’s jumping around now, simultaneously humping my hand and trying to get away. The orgasm is flowing over her like an avalanche. She’s screaming like a banshee, ignoring our ‘silence’ rule. Her legs are trembling and I’m afraid they may give way. I’ve got my left hand securely gripping the belt through her elbows to steady her, and I’m flailing her pussy with the right. One final, primal scream. Shaking and shuddering, unable to stand without support. I could feel the orgasm building, and in a sudden burst she lost her bladder. My flailing hand spread it everywhere, spattering all over her shoes, soaking her legs and both sides of her lowered skirt. I pulled my hand up out of her crotch and stood back, letting her go. She stumbled around a bit, somewhat dazed, the weights on her nipple clamps swinging wildly. Through all this she kept the tension on her skirt and didn’t let it slip. I flopped down in a chair, exhausted, and watched her recover from what was surely the most violent orgasm she’d ever experienced in her life. After several long minutes just standing, skirt stretched, and sucking in deep breaths of air, she turned and lowered herself on to the couch, still stretching the skirt, the weights still dangling from her nipples, oblivious to them now. “So, now what do you think?” I asked. She just smiled and kept sucking in oxygen as fast as she could. The look on her said it all – shit got real! Chapter 6 – Clarification of Terms  I sat for a while, myself exhausted, reveling in the sensuality of it all. I was feeling the ache of the hard bulge in my pants, knowing the restriction placed on its use, understanding masturbation was the option for relief. For her part, her breathing had calmed some and she was lying back on the couch, relaxed, hands still tightly bound, skirt still halfway down her thighs, teardrop weights still dangling from her nipples, still oblivious to them. “Phase ,” I thought myself as I stood up. “Kneel, here.” I pointed to a spot in the middle of the floor, and she complied. She slowly and carefully, trying to keep the weights from pulling on her nipples. Kneeling was a bit more of a chore, with her arms useless for balance and her leg movement restricted by the tight skirt, still unzipped and held about a quarter of the way down her thighs. She ended up kind of dropping down to her knees, little tits and heavy weights both jostling deliciously. I pulled up her skirt, tucked in the tails of her open blouse, and zipped it up all neat and tidy, pulling it down her thighs as far as I could stretch it. I dug a -inch chain with snaps of the goodie bag and fastened it from the belt between her elbows to her ankle cuffs. This forced her to sit up straight; if she tried to lean forward, her feet would lift off the ground. The end result was that she was kneeling on the floor, sitting on her tightly tightly-bound feet, back ramrod straight, skirt taut across the tops of her thighs, arms still pulled back and tits jutting with the weights dangling freely from her nipples. She looked down herself for a long minute, a thin line of drool dropping from her lips, then looked back up apprehensively. She was a submissive sight to see. I stepped back for a minute to survey the scene, removing my pants in the process and folding them neatly over the back of the chair. I was wearing a nylon Spandex man-thong, the type a Chippendale would wear. Very thin, shiny fabric with a little extra cloth across the front to accommodate the balls, and good, strong elastic all around to stretch it tight. There was a very fine zipper that ran right down the center of the front panel, opening at the top and extending all the way down the testicles. She stared dumbfounded as I adjusted my package inside the garment, extending it to full length and arranging the zipper straight down the center of the shaft. The tight, thin Spandex revealed every vein, curve and detail underneath. The wings of the mushroom head were clearly defined at the tip, which was almost peeking the top. She tried to say something, emphatically, but the gag garbled it so badly I understood a couple of short words sputtered with sprays of saliva. I reached around the back of her head and unbuckled the gag. She stretched her mouth and jaw for a second and then asked emphatically, “What are you up to? We have an agreement, and that includes the mouth.” You’re absolutely right, Kim, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a role here, just like even though I can’t penetrate YOU, your orifices are still usable in other ways. “Are you going to on ?” she asked meekly. “That’s the idea, sweetie.” She grimaced perceptively. “But there’s a caveat, a part of the rules with which you’re not yet familiar.” The grimace turned quizzical. “You see, I don’t think it’s fair that you get all the of our agreement, with no corresponding restriction. The last thirty minutes of so have certainly shown that pleasure for you will be frequent and intense.” “So?” “So, the agreement says I can’t fuck you, but there are exceptions that rule.” She was looking scared again. “The first is this – I won’t fuck you unless you ASK . I had this happen once”: “I had a playdate with a who would do anything but vaginal sex. I had honored that restriction religiously over five or sessions.” I paced back in forth in front of her as I spoke, hands clasped behind my bac Her eyes followed my crotch. “This time, I had her on her hands and knees on the couch, not tied, with or four of those weights swinging from clover clamps. I had my middle fingers in her pussy, and I was pressing down on her g-spot, finger- violently. The result was very similar yours – pretty soon she lost it, and in the throes of the intense squirting orgasm she yanked off the clamps, rolled over and pulled down on top of her. I fucked her savagely to another orgasm before dumping a load of deep inside her surprisingly tight pussy.” “When it was all over and she’d stopped shaking, she went off on , getting all pissy about ‘You promised no vaginal, and how you couldn’t be trusted to control yourself anymore, yada, yada, yada’. So the bottom line is this – if you get all worked up and start screaming ‘Fuck ! Please, fuck !’ or ‘Shove it up my ass!’, I’m gonna do it with glee and there will be no recriminations from you. Clear?” “Yes, sir,” meekly. “I can’t hear you!” ”Crystal, sir!” Soldierly. “Good. Now the second rule is a restriction on your behavior, and here it is – if I’m not allowed to use my penis for his intended purpose, you’re not allowed to see it. Ever, not even a glimpse. If you even crack an eye to catch a peek and I see it, I have free reign to make a sperm in the threatened orifice. Is that clear?” “Crystal, sir.” “Excellent. You keep control of YOUR self as well,” I told her. “Now back to the subject at hand. You were correct earlier, I AM going to on your . You’re going to kneel there, just like that, eyes shut, up and mouth closed. I’m going to stroke my dick right over you until I get my release. Your primary task is to kneel there, very still, letting it drip off your and onto your clothes until you’re given further instruction. Clear?” “Yes, sir!” emphatically. “Well?” I glared at her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, settling comfortably back on her heels. The zipper sang softly as it split the front of the thong and allowed my cock to flop free. It didn’t flop very far. It was so hard it HURT. I gripped the shaft in my hand and started to stroke it, running a loose fist slowly up and down. Meantime, she just sat there contentedly on her heels, waiting for the inevitable. A large drop of pre- emerged from the hole and dribbled over the edge, threatening to be wasted. I quickly stroked the slimy head across her lips to clean it off. She recoiled in surprise and grimaced a little, then settled back into position submissively. The shiny liquid wetted her lips; she did nothing to clean it off. I didn’t take long for the inevitable to occur. I was so horny, about ten slow strokes is all it took, and I exploded. I had to step back a little for the first spurt, knowing it’s always the strongest. A solid, thick stream of shot from the tip of my penis, and settled across the whole target zone, from just and left of her mouth, over the bridge of her nose and right eye, continuing all the way up to the crown of her head, just right of the part. A thick drop ran slowly down the back of her head, and the excess in front plopped audibly on the black skirt pulled taut across her lap. Stream was of similar strength, covering a similar distance and soiling the skirt a little more. The next five or pulses were not quite so strong, and I could move my cock in closer her for ‘strategic placement’. the time it ended or glorious seconds later, she was a real mess. Dripping off her chin and jowls and settling in translucent white pools on her skirt. Pooling in her eyes as well, and soaking in everywhere it touched her hair. She remembered her instructions, and sat there perfectly still, dripping, waiting to be instructed on next steps. “Use your tongue to clean your lips. Take a little taste in the process,” was the eventual command. As she did so, I rubbed my cock on her right shoulder to clean it off, then tucked it back into the thong and secured the zipper. “You can open your eyes now,” I told her. When she tried, it was a struggle. The sticky semen had crossed her eyelids in several places, and when she tried to open them it would seep in and she’d have to squeeze them shut again. “Can you wipe the of my eyes?” she asked. “Nope,” was the instant reply. “Not my problem. Any you receive will stay where it is until this session is over, and I finally release you. Only then can you clean up. In the meantime it dries in place and you do what you have to do to get your eyes open.” She tried a couple more times to open them slowly, but the thick fluid stretched between the lids and painfully touched her cornea. Finally, in desperation, she opened both eyes as wide as she could, fast, breaking the strands and allowing her tears to clear what entered in the process. Blinking of four times unclog them, she surveyed the damage. A glance at the camera showed the shiny glaze on her face, still flowing slowly form the occasional drip for her nasty skirt. The framing was perfect. She looked down her lap and stared for a while. The pools of cum were now flowing down the gentle incline, dripping off the hem in globs between her thighs. After a long examination she turned her spattered face towards mine and exhaled, “Oh . . . my . . . God.” “God’s got nothing to do with this, Kim. Nothing all.” |
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Great story hope there is more to cum
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It’s a hit and miss thing. I get horny and add a scene or two. There is much more in my head, anyway. 
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