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This excerpt comes from Christina, somewhere in Canada. She is a single mother of a teenage boy, and has always striven to keep her private life separate from her parenting life. But a woman has needs, and sometimes these needs must be satisfied. As a result, she often finds herself in strange situations, taking her pleasure where she can get it, and hoping she’ll be home again in time to see her son off to school. She has sent me a number of stories over the years, but this one was particularly vivid.
I’ve been tied to the bed for more than an hour now. My skin prickles with goosebumps. The breeze that whispers through the room is not warm, and it lifts the edge of my barely-there negligee as much as the lacy white curtains of the four poster on which I lay. When those curtains billow I can sometimes glimpse squat and shadowy shapes in the dimly moonlit room beyond. The massive wardrobe. The bedside table. The divan. Like perverted old gods, hunched over their phalluses, intent on my spread-eagled helplessness.
There is a clinking sound. Ice cubes in glass tumblers? Chain links rattling? My host is in another room of the house somewhere, preparing a surprise. He promises I will like it, but by now I’m cold and numb. This is beginning to feel less like risque play and more like risky business. My nipples are chafing painfully against the fabric of my sheer nightie. They’re frigidly erect, and have been for a long time. At first I was thankful for what little warmth my thin panties and thigh high stockings had to offer, but they’re no real protection.
The red silk ropes that bind me to the bed look black in the moonlight and are very thoroughly tied. I gave up trying to wriggle free half an hour ago. I watched him tie me up and marvelled at his strong skilled hands. At his knowledge of knots. His broad palms and long, dextrous digits. The clever way they moved.
I thought, he’s so good at this… I can’t wait for him to have his way with me… I can feel myself moistening already… he’s so beautiful, the way the light plays across his dusky skin and stern features… please, please, stop playing with that rope and play with me! Touch me you cruel patient man! Take me!
Maybe I should have been concerned. Where did he practice these things? On whom? I knew him fairly well, at least I thought I did. But how well do we really know anybody?
He hadn’t been in town more than a few months. He worked with some people I knew, odd jobs, construction, carpentry, finishing work, some cabinetry. He was capable and efficient and pleasant, in a quiet, reserved sort of way. The rumor was that he had money, and oodles of it. Playing the stock market, something like that. His choice of car, his home and clothing, all spoke of tasteful wealth. Nothing ostentatious about him, nothing alarming. Just a slow, deliberate self-assuredness that had me fantasizing about him within moments of meeting him. Some highschool meet-the-teachers function or something – his daughter is my son’s age, but doesn’t live here. I think he was checking out the school on the off chance his daughter decided to move in with him; I gather the ex-wife is a bit of headcase. His daughter, Macy (short for Intimacy!), was visiting around that time, and she seemed like a charming young lady, if a bit sharp-edged. One of those pretty kids who ruins her natural beauty with gothic getups and enough black eyeliner to be mistaken for a raccoon, though she was free with her smiles. She wasn’t there when I met him, I met her later, but he was there. Of course he was, but I mean… he was there. Present. So totally present, in a way none of the others attending were. He drew the eye, the attention, like the sun exerting a pull on planetary bodies. Everyone there orbited around him.
When I drew near him that first time, the first thing I noticed was the way his voice resonated inside my body. A deep, oceanic voice. Just by speaking he made my clitoris vibrate. Not his fault, actually. I had it pierced a few years ago… but the effect was startling, to say the least. Incredibly arousing. I wanted him to speak more, but he was so self-contained. Concise in his speech. Polite, sure, but he said much with few words. It wouldn’t be enough to get me off, and frankly I was hornier than a bull elk. So I tried to draw him into conversation, tried to get him to pleasure me with that vibrating voice, without letting him know it. The more we spoke, the more I noticed the way his firm muscles moved under his skin. This was a man who worked out, or practised martial arts. And his skin! Oh, my goodness, such a beautiful, dusky brown. I couldn’t place his race, but I’d hazard South America somewhere. He was broad-chested and slim at the waist. His trousers were well-tailored and accentuated his firm bottom nicely. Naturally I wondered about the bulge in front. It seemed more than enough to make me happy, but was he a show-er? Or a grow-er?
That clinking sound again. Come on, C! Get a grip. Keep your head in the game. What is he up to out there?
“Reg?” I call out. “Reg, honey, it’s cold! Come keep me warm!”
Does he want me to beg? I’ll beg, if that’s what he wants. I will kneel and worship every last inch of him with hands and mouth and spread wide any hole he asks, but I can’t do that if he’s out there. I’ve got to make him come back in the room. I’ve got to get him to untie me and pleasure me or let me go home. I can’t take any more of this. I thought I was adventurous, but I’m just bloody cold. This isn’t what I wanted tonight.
“Reggie!” I shriek. “Reggie, there’s an animal in the room! REGGIE!”
I hear his hurried footsteps and the sinister sound of chains rattling. The door flies open, making the curtains billow. They scrape across my frigid skin. Any other time the soft fall of lace would be erotic. Now? My skin is so icy the touch of the curtains is painful.
Backlit in the doorway, Reg is a monstrous silhouette seen through thin white fabric. Something is wrong with his head. It’s shaped funny, it’s like…
He pushes the curtain roughly aside and the light from the next room stabs my eyes. Before they can adjust he’s straddled me on the bed and put his face right next to mine. Something cold slithers across my throat with a quiet rattle. Is he wearing a leash? He’s too close and it’s too dark to make out all the details, but he’s wearing a mask. A panicked glimpse of fur. Yellow eyes. Canine snout. Lolling tongue. Sharp teeth. His cock is a thick line of fire from my belly button to my breasts. Omygod, it’s huge! He growls menacingly and I can’t help it, my body arches under him. My clitoris shakes in terror as his bass drum rumble rolls through me. Fear and pleasure race along my veins in equal measure.
“Did you just lie to me, little girl?” he growls.
His voice is warm cinnamon chocolate poured over my vanilla icecream skin. Goosebumps prickle my body in waves.
“N… no. No,” I manage, “I thought…”
Reginald throws back his head and howls. Not like a man imitating a wolf. Like a wolf struggling to burst free from a man. I scream with him, all the impatience and tension and fear of the past hour let loose at once. I’m taking a breath to scream again, scream like my life depends on it, when he bounces away, laughing this crazy infectious little boy laugh. I’m so startled I hesitate, and that’s when he reaches up and grabs a rope hanging in the shadows and he pulls. My bonds stretch taut and then slide up the four posts of the bed, stretching my limbs and lifting me into the air. I’m suspended, spread wide, straining. He loops the rope around my waist a few times and deftly secures it, supporting my middle. It takes a little of the pressure off my burning arms and legs.
“Reg, I don’t, I can’t,” but that’s all I manage before the silk slides between my teeth. He ties off the gag as quickly as he did the ropes, then crouches low beside the bed. No amount of desperately turning my head lets me see him, but I can hear him. He’s crawling around on all fours, snuffling loudly. The chain of his leash drags on the floorboards. He pauses at the foot of the bed, panting like an animal. I feel the mattress sag as he puts his hands (front paws?) on the foot of the bed. A dog, sniffing. Curious. Is this a bitch in heat?
Oh god, I am. I think it was his jubilant laughter, but I don’t fear for my life anymore. I’m still terrified, I still don’t know if I can trust him, my heart is hammering in my chest, my breasts are heaving as I gasp for air, but… I think… I think he will listen if I say the safe word. Sunflower. I sag in relief when I recall it, as far as the ropes will allow. I’d almost forgotten in my panic. But: I have the safeword. This is just a game. I can say the safe word and he will go back to being Reginald the gentleman. So I can wait a little bit longer, and see what happens, can’t I? Oh god, no I can’t. He just gagged me. Nobody knows I’m here, maybe I should…
He’s snuffling around the four-poster again. I’m beginning to panic, pushing at the gag with my tongue, frantically trying to work it down over my lower lip. The gag is slowly coming loose. He didn’t tie it tight. I latch onto this fact like a drowning woman grabs at her saviour. He gave me an out. This is a game. It has to be a game. Maybe it is, but I’m still on the verge of hyperventilating.
Reg finishes a slow circuit of the room before making his way back to the foot of the bed, sniffing and panting. He lifts his head as I lift mine, and the creature that stares back at me is like a werewolf. I can’t see his body in the shadows, just this dog’s face at the foot of the bed. A whine escapes it’s throat. The tongue lolls out as he pants. He sniffs closer. This horny dog smells pussy, and he wants it. He begins to climb onto the bed, slowly, cautiously. Like a dog who knows his master won’t like what he’s about to do.
With a last push of my tongue, the gag falls free. I gasp a ragged breath and shout at him.
“NO! BAD DOG!”
I think it surprises him. He withdraws for a moment, then moves to climb onto the bed again.
But two can play at this game.
“BAD DOG! DOWN!”
He thumps to all fours and whines piteously. His leash rattles.
Such a sensation of sensuous, feminine power rushes through me that I nearly come with the electric shock of it. My cunt throbs and drips. My clit is swollen with magic. I have never, ever, done anything like this before. The thrill of it fills me and reassures me.
He’s my bitch now.
Ow, ow, awoooooooooo!
Thank you for that, Christina!
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*Image from the internet*