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Subject: story@ RETURNING HOME M/F bond, games @story
Date: Sat, 11 Dec 2004 09:30:45 -0800
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===================
www.red-rose-stories.com
Returning Home
She turned the key in the door, walked in and turned to close the door.
WHUMP, something hit her hard between the shoulder blades, knocking her
against the door, knocking the breath out of her. She was pinned
against the
door, her cheek against cold glass. Her hands were grabbed and trussed
behind her back, as her pulse skyrocketed. Gasping for air, she tried
to
find her breath, she tried to scream. "Alice" a voice hard and quiet
said
"be quiet, or you won't be able to make a sound at all". Her head was
painfully pulled back by the hair at the nape of her neck, and a
blindfold
tied tight around her eyes. Every nerve in her body was on fire, and
she
thought her heart would knock a hole in her chest.
Her lover, she thought, her goddamned lover planned a surprise. She was
angry. She didn't know if she wanted to play. It was late, she was
tired,
tomorrow was going to be another long day. But just the knowledge that
he
wanted to play -- no, not even that, just the idea of playing, of
thinking of
being submissive -- made it hard for her to protest. Her body
temperature
rose as she thought about what might come. I am changing, she thought.
The
role is growing on me. I don't know if I will need a safeword. I could
almost let him do anything now. Is this what trust is made of? Anger
was
dissolving into another feeling she couldn't quite identify.
She heard a rustle of movement, and strained to make it out. Someone
else?
What is going on? But warm hands quickly tied a silk scarf like an
antique
bandage for a tooth ache over her head and under her chin. I can tell
his
touch, she thought. He's been practicing, that's not something he knows
how
to do. Or knew, she corrected herself. The scarf didn't take away all
the
sound, she could tell that he had turned on music, Mahler it seemed:
grand,
majestic and powerful. But she couldn't make out voices, only that they
were
there and there seemed to be more than one.
Hands grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. Her pulse was still
pounding, and anxious from the initial surprise, and this was going to
make
her puke. It stopped and she lurched a bit, dizzy. Hands, how many she
couldn't tell, grabbed her and marched her out the door. Spun again and
dragged down the sidewalk, roughly pulled by her blouse. She stumbled
as hands
from behind push in the desired direction. Totally disoriented. Where
am I?
What the fuck is going on? She was shoved into a car, on a front seat,
wedged between two bodies. One probably her lover, but the other was
still
unknown, and not very knowable. The car took off, driving fast, and she
realized that she didn't even know what direction the car was pointing
to
start with.
Sitting very still, she felt hands unbuttoning her shirt, and scissors
cold
between her breasts, cutting open her bra. Wait, she nearly said, I
like
this one, don't ruin it. But she found that she lacked the will to
talk.
Everything was happening too fast. It was too confusing. She wasn't
sure
about anything anymore. But her body was beginning to respond to being
exposed. Somewhere under the confusion was a kernel inside of her that
said
"you like this, you like this".
She tried to pay attention to clues about where they were going, who
was
there, listening for signals. But she was quickly distracted by hands
on her
breasts pulling them out of her shirt and the remains of her bra. She
felt
fingers pulling her nipples, and the familiar feel of the clamps
tightening
on them. Something familiar she thought, something to hold onto. She
didn't
even know if it was her lover driving or touching her or really, even
if he
was in the car at all.
The car drove fast, turning corners with a squeal, clearly running
lights to
judge from the muffled honks of other cars. Hands kept pinching her
breasts,
and pulling on the chain between the clamps. It was awkward, hands tied
behind her back, constricted and confined by the now silent bulk on
either
side of her. She tried not to respond to the insistent hands on her
body,
tried to find the anger she felt earlier. But she had moved from simple
acquiescence to active desire. She wanted to be touched. Finally the
car
pulled up with a screech. She was jerked out of the open car door.
***********************************************
Reproduced courtesy of www.red-rose-stories.com
***********************************************
A voice spoke near her ear, it must have been loud. "We'd twirl you
around
again.." The we was not lost on her. "... but its unlikely you have a
clue
to where you are. That's important". Laughter in the background, as her
shirt was yanked down off of her shoulders. In all the tussles the
scarf had
come off her ears, and was pulled away. "Lift her skirt up", she heard
her
lover say, as hands along her legs tuck her skirt into its waistband,
in the
front and in the back. A breeze across her thighs and ass made her feel
more
exposed. She wondered where they are, who could be watching.
"Come with us, Alice". Her lover was doing all the talking. Up some
stairs,
she tried to figure out where she was, but couldn't. The path seemed
vaguely
familiar, but it wasn't his place, nor Jon's house. She couldn't
imagine who
else he would play with. She strained for sounds or clues, but strong
hands
on her shoulders propelled her quickly forward, as someone tugged on
the
chain between her nipples from the front.
She walked hesitantly, blind and afraid of bumping into something. As
she
ducked once, totally without reason, someone laughed at her from
behind,
someone not her lover. A hot blush traveled through her cheeks, and she
had
no idea if anyone even noticed. "Stop". She did, immediately, afraid.
She
felt cold metal sliding up the inside of her thigh, and then heard the
distinctive swish-click of scissors. Snip, through the crotch of her
underpants, followed by long fingers, her lovers, judging from their
warmth,
twisted in her pubic hair. "Oh, she's wet alright". She wanted to
blush,
but the scissors were still too close to her cunt, and she was scared.
Would
he cut her? How far would he go? Snip, "Here's a lock of hair for you",
she
heard her lover say.
A door opened and she was pushed through, stumbling and falling onto
her
knees. Hands pulled her skirt off, popping the button on the waistband.
Her
underpants were fluttering at her waist, and she too could feel the
moisture
between her legs. "Stand up, Alice", as a collar snicked into place
around
an ankle and was pulled tight. "Spread your legs" as the other ankle
was
bound. "Put the clamps on her labia, Jon". So it was Jon, but labia
clamps?
What? The confusion returns. "Oh dear, we are going to have to finish
cutting off those pants." With what seemed a careless swipe of the
scissors,
they were gone. Her arms, behind her back are pulled tight and up,
leaving
her bent over, a little. She imagined another rope holding her arms up
behind her and her ass stuck out, exposed.
As hands tied two soft ropes around the plumpest part of her thighs,
her mind
relaxed a notch. Maybe, she thought, it won't hurt too much. A sharp
sting
on first her left, and then right labia, brings her back to the
present.
"Nice, very nice" as someone draws the clamps apart, pulling her open.
Two
more clicks and the clamps were attached to the ropes on her thighs,
holding
her cunt as open as her legs. The sensations were strong, somewhere
between
pain and pleasure, but they demand all of her attention. A finger ran
down
from her nipple and stopped just short of her clit. She moved her hips,
straining forward and then backwards. "Oh she wants it, doesn't she".
There
was pure delight in her lover's voice. Two hands brushed across her
nipples,
this time cool hands. The nipples burned from the clamps. One more
caress, a
hand on her buttocks and then nothing. Footsteps fell away from her and
she
was left standing, still awkwardly bent over. The pull on her labia and
nipples was intense. Music softly from another room fills the air.
Philip
Glass, minimalist, and she imagined an empty room, no carpet, no
furniture
and only shades on the few windows.
At first, she felt empty and hungry for touches. They'll be back soon,
she
thought. Then an itch crawled up, under her shirt, across her shoulder
blades. Wiggling did nothing to help, except to pull on the labia
clamps and
make the heavy chain between her nipples swing back and forth. Where
are
they? Why am I left here? She couldn't even rub her thighs together,
and
her own wetness began to seep down her thighs. Time passed and the sway
of
the chain between her nipples felt better, and she moved her hips
again, to
make it swing harder. But neither that nor the pinch of labia clamps
was
satisfying at all. How much time has passed?. She was sure it was at
least
an hour, but with a grimace thought that that probably means 10
minutes. Her
shoulderblades began itch again.
The itches came and went and she was left standing, dripping and
wanting more
touches, contact, anything. Her mind wandered with the music. Suddenly,
a
hand grabbed her and a cock was thrust between her legs, from the back,
invading her. The sudden movement pulled on her labia, stretching them
between the clamps. A moment of tight pain translated into a sudden
yank on
her clit. Her body could only respond to the overwhelming sensation.
Waves
of pleasure rolled over and over, in tugs on her clit, her labia. She
felt
his hands on her waist, pulling himself into her deeply. As her body
moved
in response to his, the chain between her nipples swung wider and
wider,
pulling her nipples down from her bent over body. She was so deeply
involved
in the pain and pleasure that she barely noticed his orgasm, only his
fingers
digging deeply into her arms for a moment and a muffled cry on her
shoulder.
Then nothing, silence and an absence of touch. It was her lover and now
he
is gone.
Again, left hanging, her body started to cramp. She tried to flex
different
muscles to stretch, but can't. What now, she wondered. His semen ran
down
her leg, and her body throbbed in response to the pleasure it felt. The
clamps still attached, made her nipples and labia pulse, a little. She
would
smile with the memory, but she felt too tired for even that. But she
found
that she had the energy to sigh, as careful hands finally came and
touched
her gently. Still blindfolded, she was let down, unhooked, unclamped
and
folded into a soft, warm robe. Strong arms half carried her stiff body
out
to a car and helped her in. She dozed on the ride back, leaning on him,
arm
around her shoulders.
He helped her into the house, and placed her in bed. As he removed the
blindfold and he handed her a box tied with a ribbon. She looked at him
to
ask a question and he said simply "for you, for everything, for making
my
fantasies come true". It contained silk and lace, underwear -- a bra
and
pants, garters and stockings, in a carefully chosen color he knew that
she
liked -- and a single rose of the same color.
For those of you following Alice's adventures, this takes place
immediately after the story The Return or Returning Home (in
which Alice gets taken for a long car ride and various other
ministrations, some of which are done by her lover's friend Jon),
"Down, pet". I pushed him face down on the futon couch, folded
out into a bed. "Wha...". He clearly was not expecting this
kind of treatment. He fell pretty hard.
Part of the anger from a few evenings ago, our last game, had
come back to me. I had long ago resolved that I would not top in
anger. So, I spent lots of time thinking about the anger. It
had helped a little to write to Jon about it, and go through my
thoughts. There was no question that I enjoyed the evening,
wherever it had been, both mentally and physically. Jon made it
clear that he had enjoyed playing, in general, too. I tried to
ask where we had gone, but Jon wouldn't even admit that he had
been in the room. "I *heard* you, Jon". All he would say is
"well, do you think there is something wrong with liking all
this?" or "why are you angry?". We had eventually talked at
length, about passion and desire and making fantasy come true.
Jon was a good friend, if tight-lipped about particulars.
When the anger was no longer something I felt, but something I
could think about, I let the thoughts about my lover fill me.
What did all these games mean anyway? I came up with trust, and
bonding, and finally returned to pleasure. Just the plain and
simple pleasure of being exposed, being forced and the physical
sensations of his strength and warmth. And that brought me back
around to his pleasure, and that he had said that he would like
to be topped and taken more often. So topped and taken he would
be.
Straddling him from behind, I grabbed him by the nap of his neck
and pulled his head up. "Not another word, do you hear", I
hissed between clenched teeth. "Uh, yes, Ma'am". Better,
better. "Take your clothes off, but don't get up". I stayed
sitting on him, and it made it difficult. I liked watching him
struggle and I knew it embarrassed him not to do this smoothly.
I turned around, still straddling him with my legs spread, so I
could get to his ass. I started paddling him, open handed. His
ass was tender, smooth and unmarked. I loved it. I thwacked him
again.
I loved her. I loved this woman. It started somewhere down in
my belly and worked its way up, spreading through my chest until
I thought I would explode. It worked down, too, and I often did
explode. I had never felt anything like this before. My life
had been well ordered, with work and children and racquetball.
She had turned everything upside down, and now my emotions
traveled from one end of the spectrum to the other. Sometimes a
casual touch sent shivers chasing up and down my body. I didn't
understand it, and she had taught me not to care about
understanding. Damn, I loved that woman. I loved her when she
was strong and when she was weak. And there was no question that
I loved her when she held me down and forced me. Like now. Face
down on the bed, legs apart. I did not doubt that she would hurt
me. She had shown me the place beyond pain, where I could cry
and hurt and be loved and let go of everything else in my life.
A place where I didn't have to work hard to keep myself in order,
where staying in order just didn't matter. She had shown me an
awful lot, and all of it with love. I knew that I owed her more
than I could possibly give back, and whatever she could and would
and wanted to do to me was fine.
She tied the blindfold on, and put in one earplug. "It will make
everything seem more remote. It will make you focus on the
feelings. It will concentrate your attention wonderfully". But
it was her attention I wanted. Even if the pain hadn't been
something I enjoyed, I would have suffered it for her attention.
She put in the other ear plug. My attention concentrated. Each
touch was charged and I strained to feel more. My arms were
jerked over my head and tied down tight, legs pulled wide,
strapped to the corners. It was a big bed. I felt the cat
trailing down my spine, its leather tails tickling. A sudden
blow startled me and I tried to jump. I was indeed tied tight.
I could feel a line of fire travel across my back to one buttock.
She was watching me, she was loving me. That was all that I
wanted.
"Ooo, pet" she crooned near my ear. It was hard to make out the
words. But mostly she just made sounds as the sting between my
shoulder blades increased. The single line of fire was a sheet
across my shoulders. She leaned over me, stroking my back and
trailing her fingers down my ass to the inside of my thigh. I
loved the way she touched my ass. No one had done that before.
"Ooo, pet", an ear plug came out and a pointed tongue darted into
my ear, followed by a warm breath. "Pet, you are enjoying this,
all too much, I think". True, I was loving this. I could bask
in her attention forever. She loved me, she loved me, she wanted
me. I'd never have enough. I'd do anything to please her, and I
guess she knew it. The ear plug went back in.
I felt a cold sticky finger between my ass checks, probing to
find my anus. Her finger circled the rim, and then pushed in.
"Oof" I exhaled. I had never had buttplay till she started. The
first time it shocked the hell out of me. In a shower, in a
hotel, she had just slipped a soapy pinky into my ass. I nearly
fell. It made me nervous, but, at the time, it was hard to admit
that it was new, or worse, that I didn't like something she
wanted. We hadn't started playing BDSM games, yet. It was just
another thing she did to me. The next time we were together, she
had me lie on my back and hold me knees apart for her. I had
felt massively exposed and vulnerable to her. Then, with some KY
she started working two fingers into my ass. She told me that
she would make me scream, and eventually I did. I remember her
voice, as much as the words, "Relax," she had said in soft,
soothing voice, "lean into the feeling, let it happen to you,
welcome it". It was the first time in my life I just let go in
bed, just let someone DO to me. I must have cried for an hour
afterwards.
Now, when I felt her stroke my prostate, I nearly climbed the
walls. Except I couldn't now, being tied down, I had to let go.
It helped having no choice. More lube and more fingers, she was
working hard on spreading me open. A few strokes in and out, and
then circular massage on the inside. Strokes, rubbing, strokes,
rubbing. My mind got lost somewhere, climbing mountains with
streams in the sunlight.
It stopped. I was startled, I wanted more. All of a sudden she
was in front of me removing the blindfold. Smiling. "I love
you" she was mouthed, I could barely hear the words and I smiled
back. And then, something shoved into my ass. Hard. Bigger
than fingers or a butt plug. And hands on my back, other hands
because there were hers, holding my head. Someone was fucking
me. Someone not my lover. "Don't worry, its safe" she said,
loudly. "Safe" I croaked. It hurt. It was big. It was filling
me up. It was another man.
She smiled at me, with a superior, I know you smile. It was a
smile to which I could only say "yes, Ma'am". I didn't want to
relax, I tried to fight this stranger, get him out of my body.
But all I could do was squeeze his cock tighter, and elicit vague
sounds of male pleasure filtered through the earplugs. The hands
were godawful strong. When he sensed me struggling, he pushed
hard, down on my back, levering himself above me, forcing me
down. He kept slamming harder and harder into me, shoving his
weight against my ass. This insistent force was an incredible
contrast to her gentle hands. They framed my lower face, fingers
curving up my checks, touching my earlobes, holding me still with
a slightest of touches and the deepest of feelings. A tongue
reached out and flicked over my eyelids and down to my lips. I
wanted to kiss her, but she wouldn't let me.
"Give in to him" she said. "Let him take you, for me". I
screwed up my eyes, trying not to think about it. A man above
me, with his cock in my ass, taking pleasure in my body. He
seemed to be able to fuck forever. I certainly didn't last this
long. Or maybe it just seemed that way to me. I wondered if my
lover felt like this when I lay on top of her. The strong hands
raked down my sides, leaving scratches and probably blood in
their wake. The finger tips felt rough as they reached around my
belly, travelled through my pubic hair and grabbed my cock. One
hand pushed up so there was room for the other to start pumping
me roughly. I groaned. I didn't want to be turned on by another
man's hand on me, but he offered me no choice. My cock responded
to the harsh touch, and I could feel my hips start to rock on
their own. He kept on driving me, the same rhythm in my ass and
on my cock, herding me towards an inevitable orgasm. I was in
his power, her power, I couldn't tell. And I didn't think I
cared any more.
"Don't let him come", she warned the other man, loud enough for
me to hear. "No" I cried out, all of my self was in my cock, "I
have too". She slapped my face, and then smiled even more.
"Stop now" she order the other man, "he's getting near, I can
tell". The hand fell away from my cock, and I felt a backwash of
negative sensation travel up my spine to the base of my skull,
where it grabbed hard and hurt. "More", I begged "oh, please
more". I looked up into her eyes and thought if she only could
know how much I love her. But she leaned forward and kissed my
head and pulled out the ear plugs. The man had stopped moving,
and she spoke clearly into the silence around me. "This isn't for
you, you know". I groaned, trying to clear out the knot at my
skull. "This is for us, all I care about is seeing you fucked by
another man". I was crushed, I wanted her to care about me, and
not to think about this other man. "You are mine, and you will
come when I let you. He", she said tossing her head to indicate
the other "will come whenever he damn pleases. And it better
damn please you, too".
Her words must have meant something to him. The hands tightened
around my sides and the force pushing onto me increased. I could
hear the other man moaning, now. It was clearly my friend Jon,
and he was close to coming. The sensations around my ass had
become incredibly strong too. I tried to loosen up, to enjoy
what was happening, but I felt too embarrassed at the thought of
Jon in my ass. I suppose I could cope with it being a man, the
good feelings seemed to overwhelm that hesitancy. But being face
down with one of my closest friends using me was hard. His nails
dug into my shoulders and he grunted hard and jerked on me. I
was tied too tightly to move up into his arms, but he fell
forward on top of me and wrapped his arms around my torso.
"You're one good fuck" he said, as he pulled out. I need one
good fuck, I thought to myself. But had no idea when it might
come my way.
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