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Subject: Title story: "Angie and John" Author: Russ Post 49595817
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Date: Sat, 23 Jul 2005 05:17:07 +0000
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Angie and John
Angie was beginning to get worried, while she had lost all sense of time, she
did know that it had been an awfully long time since the last time John had done
anything to her.
It had all started innocently enough, at a party of course. John had pulled out
a pair of handcuffs and put them on her, as a way of getting her attention.
Well, it had worked, she splashed her drink in his face and demanded that he
take them off. He ran off shouting something about his eyes, leaving her
screaming at him at the top of her lungs. Unfortunately she lost track of him in
the crowd and sat down demurely on the couch, not enjoying at all the attention
she had attracted to herself. As long as she was just sitting there, the
handcuffs seemed to not get in the way very much. It was when she tried to do
anything that they really bothered her. She ended up spilling the entire
contents of her purse trying to find something she could try to pick them with.
There was nothing but make-up, ATM receipts, gum wrappers, and other useless
junk. Eventually she gave up and piled everything back into her purse. Three
other people sat down on the couch and started passing around a joint.
Naturally she joined in. They all thought it was funny to watch her take a drag
using both hands and she started making a show of it. She hardly noticed when
the joint was gone, along with most of the people in the party, she sat there
with the bottle of beer that seemed to appear out of nowhere and waited for that
bastard to come back. It was sitting there with her hands on her lap and the
various chemicals wafting through her brain that Angie realized that she was
getting very horny for some reason. Either that or she had to pee real bad and
couldn't tell. No...she was definitely horny. She held the beer bottle tightly
between her thighs and squeezed, pushing it against the tight crotch of her
jeans. With her arms she squeezed her breasts in on the sides. Quickly she
looked around to make sure nobody was watching her. She looked right into the
eyes of John, a little bloodshot, since Vodka wasn't very kind to them. She
froze. Did he know?
"I thought you would have left hours ago."
"What, with these on my wrists?"
"Everybody's got keys to these. These are those cheapies that they made those
belts out of a few years ago."
"Well I don't, so I'd appreciate it if you'd get your key and get these
off of me."
"I've got it in my room." Surprisingly, this wasn't fol- lowed by some sort of
sly wink, which caught her off guard be- cause she was expecting one.
"On second thought, I'd better not let you out of my sight again."
"Right this way."
It was a huge house, built of large stones in the 19th century. If there had
been a college nearby the place would have been converted into a fraternity
house ages ago. Fate had been kinder in that the place was merely shared by a
group of grad students.
"I didn't know you lived in this house," Angie said as she climbed the stairs.
"In the attic. I fixed it up myself."
They got up to his room and Angie ooohed with pleasure. "This is really
incredible."
"Like it? Here, have a seat and I'll get the key."
She sat on the edge of the bed. While John shuffled through a drawer, she
stroked the light brown wool blanket that covered the bed. Curiously, she found
that the contrast between the blanket, her lightly tanned wrists, and the nickle-
plated hand- cuffs with the light from the track lighting reflecting off of it
was esthetically pleasing. What an odd thought.
"Found it."
He knelt down and picked up her hands to take off the cuffs. She held his hands
and looked into his eyes. "I'm really sorry I threw my drink in your face."
"I've suffered worse."
Angie actually began to feel guilty for hating him. He had, after all, only been
playing around and she built it up into this whole big deal in her mind.
Looking at him, Angie realized he was quite handsome, and his hands felt so
strong and firm, yet gentle as they held hers. She leaned forward and kissed him
lightly on the lips.
He didn't move, and momentarily Angie feared that she had made a horrible
mistake. Actually she had, but not the one she was thinking of, as she found
out later.
He pushed her back onto the bed and laid on top of her, kissing her with a
passion that only fanned the flames growing in her loins. She wanted to hold him
close, press her body harder against him, but her hands were still chained.
Indeed, he had hooked the chain of the handcuffs with his left thumb and was
holding her arms above her head.
He leaned to one side and with his free hand, began unbut- toning her blouse.
She was panting too hard to voice the slight- est protest, she was too aroused.
With her arms pinioned above her, and her body helpless under his weight, she
could feel his hardness against her mound. She felt exposed, and helpless, and
as he began to caress her breasts, she could swear she was about to come. She
struggled and squirmed, but only ended up rubbing herself against him harder.
Then he began to use his mouth, twirling her nipple with his tongue. She
couldn't resist any longer. Hooking her legs around behind his, she ground
herself against his cock. She wanted it inside her so badly that she was
determined to push it through the two intervening layers of denim. She strained
her arms against the cuffs, her chest was heaving when he bit down on her
nipple. Her scream echoed throughout the attic room. It was one of combined
ecstasy and pain, frustration and release. Angie came hard, and it left her weak
and panting.
"Oh god...John...Please...fuck me."
"I guess you don't hate me anymore then?"
"Oh please, don't punish me this way."
"How shall I punish you then?"
Angie had no idea what John had in mind, but she would do anything now that she
was worked up to this peak. "Anything, just do it."
She didn't quite catch the comment he made about Pandora's Box, she was too busy
trying to catch her breath. While he was messing around with something in the
closet, she reached down with her chained hands and unzipped her jeans.
She slid them off and onto the floor, along with her soaked panties. She
wriggled her way onto the center of the bed with her head on the pillow. Lying
there in just an unbuttoned blouse and a pair of handcuffs, she began to play
with herself. "Come on, John."
Then she heard the jingling sound. She propped herself up on one elbow to see
what it was. It took her a moment to figure out what it was, and she wished she
hadn't. The jingling was coming from the rings and buckles hanging from this
mass of black leather and straps. Then she re-considered. Part of what had
turned her on so much was the feeling of helplessness, kind of like being the
damsel in distress. She recalled how much she enjoyed it when the boys in her
neighborhood played Cowboys and Indians and she got to play the Indian princess
who got captured and tied up by the Cowboys, or the Cowgirl who got captured and
tied up by the Indians. She had heard about people who were into bondage, but
had never even considered what she would do if she actually met one. She even
began to wonder if she was one her- self. She began to look towards this
encounter with curiosity and anticipation. If she didn't like it she could just
ride it out, but if she did, and she certainly was in a receptive mood, she
would be in for an incredible experience. Anyway, she couldn't run screaming
from the house in her current state of affairs.
She put on a sultry look. "What are you gonna do with all the hardware, big
boy?" It wasn't Mae West, but she tried.
"That is for me to know, and you to find out."
"I'm not entirely sure I want to find out." Actually she did, but she couldn't
give in that easily. "What's that all for?"
"I'll tell you as I go along. But first, I'll have to take those off." He was
referring to both the handcuffs and the blouse.
"Hey, that's no fair, you're still dressed."
"You're in no position to complain my dear, Nya ha ha ha," he said, twirling the
end of an imaginary mustache. Angie couldn't help but laugh. She kissed him.
"Okay, I'll try."
John removed the handcuffs and she slipped off her blouse.
She noticed the deep lines on her wrists from the hard steel, and she started
to rub them.
"Give me your hands, I have a cure for that." What he actually had were leather
wrist cuffs. They were fairly wide, about three inches, and held closed by two
big silver buckles. There was a large ring hanging from a D-ring attached to
them, and it was pretty obvious to her what it was for. Compared to the cuffs,
these were actually comfortable. They fit tightly, exactly against her skin, but
they conformed to the shape of her wrists. Then he produced a pair of ankle
cuffs that were exactly the same, only heavier.
"This is getting interesting. You're turning me into quite the proper slave
girl, aren't you?" She held up one hand and rocked it back and forth. The rings
jangled together. "And you don't even need bells..." She put her hand on his
thigh and then slid it higher. She felt his hardness return. "Take me...Mas-
ter." This role was easy to slip into, and it made a very inter- esting game.
"You take me," he said, leaning back on the bed. Angie took her cue instantly,
getting down on her knees and taking the shoes from his feet that were hanging
over the edge of the bed. She peeled off his socks, which were still fresh (He
must have taken a shower just before the party, she thought) and massaged his
feet. She looked up at him, and met his eyes, and without break- ing her gaze
away from his, began kissing his toes.
He patted the space beside him on the bed and she was there, nestled under his
arm, running her hand across his chest. The ring caught and jingled on each of
his buttons, so she started unfastening them. She pulled aside his shirt and
gazed at his chest. If she had seen him without a shirt this summer when he was
getting this tan, she would have been dating him already. His skin was so smooth
and perfect, hairless, except for a thin ring around his nipples (Why do men
have them anyway? She won- dered as she ran her fingers across them one by one)
and the curly wisps coming up to his navel from below his belt.
His belt was her next target. She unbuckled it, unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped
the fly, and slid her hands down so that she could pull down his jeans and
briefs together. Fortunately he gave her a hand by putting his feet up on the
bed and lifting his hips. She nearly gasped at the sight of his perfectly
defined stomach muscles. How could he find time to study while he kept his body
in such great shape?
Throwing the pants to the floor, she looked upon what she had unveiled. From her
experience, she could tell that this was a better than average cock. Men always
claimed to have more, and he was certainly below some of the exaggerations she
heard, but when compared to the reality, this was something special. She could
wrap both of her hands around it, and still have plenty of it left to suck,
which was exactly what she did. He let out a grunt, and she could feel the
muscles tensing in his crotch, so she stopped. That ought to fix him, she
thought, make him want me, now.
It did, John grabbed her and pulled her to the bed, kissing her and stroking her
tongue with his. He pinned her arms above her head, and then she realized that
he was actually hooking ropes from the posts of the bed through the rings.
She started to pull, but it was too late, he was already tightening the ropes to
her legs. She was spread completely out. He remounted the bed, poised himself
above her, and paused. "umm..."
"Pill," she blurted out, trying hard not to lose the mood of the scene.
"Right," he said, and guiding himself with one hand, slid his cock with
excruciating slowness into her flooded vagina. She pulled against the ropes and
moaned. Arching her back and shak- ing her head from side to side.
He penetrated her to the fullest, and she gasped with her eyes wide open, and
flopped back down on the bed. John began stroking in and out, varying both the
tempo and length. It was too much for Angie. She strained and pulled, she was
breathing so heavily that she could hardly manage a low scream that was more
like a VERY loud moan.
"Aaaarrrrrh!" John was coming, and stroking very quickly. Angie was just on the
brink, and when she felt those contractions as his sperm came spurting into her,
she went over the edge. Angie came even harder than before. John collapsed on
top of her, without withdrawing. They were both panting and sweaty. The two just
laid there for a while to catch their breath.
A few minutes later, John climbed off the bed, and surveyed the spread form of
Angie on the bed. Sweat glistened on her heaving breasts. Her closed eyelids
were still darkened with arousal. Her clenched fists strained against the
leather and relaxed.
Angie opened her eyes and looked up at him. "That was absolutely incredible,"
she said dreamily, "But, could I get up now?"
"Maybe," John smiled. Quickly, he went to the closet and returned with a few
padlocks and a length of chain. First he connected the chain to her ankle cuffs
with two locks, and then, with the third, he connected her wrists.
Angie watched the whole proceeding with a bemused expression on her face. "I
assume, then, that you mean to keep me around...."
"Let's just say I've had my eyes on you for a long time, and I've always
fantasized about making you mine."
"Mmmm, keep doing this to me and you'll get your wish. But right now, I really
have to go to the bathroom."
"Well, there's one downstairs...." She looked at him in- credulously. "...but
there's another right around there behind the wardrobe."
"Thanks," she said as she hopped off the bed. The chain rattled loudly on the
hardwood floor.
While she was gone, John made preparations for what he hoped she would
agree to next.
Angie rattled back in to the bedroom just as John finished untangling the pride
of his collection. "What is that?" she said, pointing with both hands (As if she
had a choice). Hand- cuffs, ropes, and even leather shackles she could
understand, but what was before her eyes now, she couldn't even guess what part
of the body it was for, let alone how it went. If that long cylindrical thing
was supposed to be some sort of dildo, where did her legs go?
"I think I'm in over my head."
"No, but you will be...."
"Wait, this is going a bit too fast for me."
"I'm sorry, I guess I was getting carried away. I've always had a passion for
this sort of thing, and with you it seemed like a fantasy come true. I'm sorry
if I've scared you. If you want to go, I'll let you."
Angie looked at him. He looked much better to her when he was in control. "Look,
it's not that I'm scared....well, I am, sort of, but I've really enjoyed this so
far, but I just need to know were it's going to end up."
John visibly brightened. "You have? I've never met anyone before who shared my
interests."
"Well, I don't know exactly if I do, but I think I might. I just want to
understand what I'm getting into."
"Well this..." John said, holding up the head harness. They laughed. "But
seriously, ordinary sex just never really did it for me. The bondage, when I did
it to myself, just concentrated everything, and made it so much more intense.
When I could do it to a woman, I knew the pleasure she could experience, and it
thinking of it just charged the experience for me. The trouble was, usually that
wasn't the case."
"Well, I can tell you, that experience was certainly over- whelming for me. I
felt helpless, but I wasn't frightened...too much. And you're not too bad at the
ordinary sex part."
"Comes from reading Mom's Cosmopolitan when I was a kid."
There was a pause.
"Do you think you'd like to try it again."
"I guess, I'm not sure when I've got a free night."
"It's Saturday, do you have anyplace you have to be tomorrow?"
"You mean now? I need to think a bit." Once she had firmly banished the thought
that anything could go wrong, she agreed. "Now what exactly is this thing."
"Come here and I'll show you. This part goes in your mouth...."
When that last buckle had been buckled, Angie was kneeling on the floor. The
gag harness filled her mouth, and the attached blindfold blocked out all light.
The harness had a strap that went under her chin, and that, combined with the
stiff posture collar held her head completely immobile. John had also placed a
belt with rings on it tightly around her waist and locked both her wrists and
ankles to it. A long strap encircled her elbows and then wound around her chest
below her breasts. Another strap was cinched just above them. Two more secured
her ankles to her thighs. And finally, her nipples protruding between the
straps got a pair of clamps. Those worrisome thoughts began clawing at the back
of her mind again.
John stepped back and surveyed his work again. Angie was more suited to bondage
than any of the women in his collection of magazines. He had taken care to make
sure her black hair cascad- ed over the straps of the harness instead of being
trapped under them, so it looked like something she might have put on herself,
like it was meant to be there for a long time.
"It's done," he announced. He watched her shift a little bit in her bonds,
testing them. God, he was harder than ever. John reached down and began gently
stroking himself as he walked around her. Angie knew he was moving and tried to
face him, but between the blindfold and the rest of the bondage, the effort was
pointless. John started the VCR, pulled on some clothes and left the room.
Eventually Angie became aware that John had left. She began to struggle. She
breathed deeply and strained against the straps across her chest, but that only
tightened the loop about her elbows. She tried to reach the buckles of the
shackles, but they were just beyond her fingertips. She squirmed and twisted,
but John had bound her too well.
The sensory deprivation was getting to her too. She couldn't see, there was
nothing to hear except the creaking of the leather as she struggled and her own
desperate breathing. The prod of the gag was soaked with her saliva. She bit
down, but the leather-covered foam was too resilient.
It seemed like hours. Finally she settled down, resigned that there was nothing
that she could do. (This is where our story began).
After what seemed like another eternity, she began to worry again. What if
something had happened to John? She could die bound up like this! She had to
escape! Her furious struggles left her lying on her back, after thumping her
head on the floor.
She heard someone coming up the stairs and she froze. Who was it? When the hand
began caressing her breast, she decided it had to be John.
"I hope you haven't been waiting too long," he said, "I just took about half an
hour to clean up party debris."
That was only half an hour! But her nipples were burning in the clamps, and all
those thought that had been racing through her mind....still, the sensation of
being touched again, after what had seemed such a long time was so intense.
Then, he lifted her onto the bed. A surge of sensation hit her as he unclamped
one of her breasts and began massaging her nipple with his tongue. It was as if
her entire being were concentrated in that one point. The rest of her bound body
slipped away from her attention, with the exception of the prod in her mouth.
The Harness/Gag/Blindfold had held most of her attention when she had first been
bound. The sensation of having her head tightly encased in stiff leather was new
and startling to her. The way the prod was irremovably held in her mouth
emphasized that her head was IN the harness. It was very difficult to put in to
words the sensation of confinement that device gave her. Of course, now it was
annoying because she was starting to pant, and the strap under her chin kept her
teeth tightly clamped around the prod.
Where had John learned his technique? Most men tend to spread their attention
around, playing a little bit with one breast, then perhaps nibbling an ear,
then moving on to another area, without leaving any one of them completely
satisfied. John was still kissing and caressing her one free breast. Angie was
getting so aroused she wanted to scream, but all she could manage was a raspy
hum. She squirmed on the bed, but John kept nibbling on her breast. Then he
surprised her.
Unnoticed until he struck, John had taken the clamp he had removed from her
nipple and suddenly snapped it on Angie's in- flamed clitoris. She tried to
kick, but the straps around her thighs prevented that. She couldn't reach
either, because of the leather shackles on her wrists. All she wanted to do was
remove that clamp, and she couldn't. She groaned in pain and frustration.
"Oh, you don't like that. Let me kiss it and make it feel better."
John knelt on the floor, removed the clamp, and buried his face between Angie's
shackled feet. He sucked hard on her lips and clit. He penetrated her deeply
with his tongue. He even blew lightly on her vagina, the cooling air shocking
her nether regions.
Finally, John decided he was ready, and stripped off his jeans. This time he
penetrated her rapidly, and Angie's entire body shook. John pumped as fiercely
as he could and within moments, Angie came, her scream finally making it through
the leather than had silenced her. John, however, wasn't finished and kept
stroking madly. Angie began to feel the tide rising within her again. As their
rhythm reached its fevered peak, they both came explosively.
After he had cleaned himself up, John began gently removing the bonds from
Angie's body. Her knees were cramped from being held so tightly for so long, and
she was sweaty and sore all over. But it was a good kind of sore. John
accompanied her to the shower, and they took turns scrubbing each other's backs,
and fronts....
In the morning, Angie awoke in John's bed, but John was nowhere to be found. She
got up, but the chain she discovered around her ankle kept her from getting out
of the bed. A folded note on the nightstand said "Stay put." She laughed. She
began to speculate on whether or not she'd be at any of her classes on Monday,
and then she remembered that Monday was a school holiday....
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