If my time in the barn was a lesson, I’m not sure what to call being naked and tied spread-eagle to Francine’s bed. So far I’ve been bored, annoyed and aroused. I’m still confused on the lesson.
Francine puts a blue plastic container on the table next to the bed. She takes a clothespin from it and holds it over my breast while rolling my nipple between her fingers. I don’t want to look scared. My effort is less than desirable. The jaws clamp down on my swollen nub. I begin to struggle.
“Settle down.” Francine said in a soothing voice.
The pain is bearable. She places a clothespin on my other nipple, then removes a roll of duct tape from the table drawer and tears off two pieces, sticking them on the edge of the table.
With a third clothespin she moves down to my hips. My body wants to move but she’s leaning across my waist, she clips the petal of my sex and attaches the clothespin to my inner thigh with a strip of tape. I bite my lip but the pain causes me to cry out. Repeating the process on my other thigh my sex is held open and I can feel cool air entering. Francine picks up another clothespin.
“Remarkable what one can do with common household items.” Francine said.
With the tip of her finger nail she targets one spot for gentile massage. I try to will my growing arousal to stop but I’m no longer in control. The clothespin bites down on my clitoris. My body goes stiff from the pain and a loud moan escapes from my throat.
“So what’s a big city girl doing in a small town?” Francine said.
“Working.” I said.
“Graduate of the most prestigious journalism school in the country and this is the only newspaper that would hire you?” Francine said.
“Who have you been talking to?” I said.
“I’m just asking questions.” Francine said. “Tell me about your mother.”
“What does my mother have to do with it?” I said.
“I don’t know. I said spare the rod, you brought up your mother.” Francine said.
“What are you, a shrink?” I said.
“Clinical Psychologist.” Francine said.
“I thought you taught bondage?” I said.
“I teach submission as a sideline.” Francine said.
She tears a strip of tape from the roll and presses it over my mouth.
“I have some crop reports to fill out for the Department of Agriculture. It may take a while, you know how tedious government compliance can be. Perhaps our next session will be more productive.” Francine said.
I never knew the mind could focus so intensely on one thing. That clothespin. It hurts like hell, but somehow it’s a good hurt. I’ve never been one to doodle myself. Okay, that’s the Catholic schoolgirl talking, I would do it right now if my hand was free. Francine is good with rope.
Francine removes the clothespin from my clit and returns to her paperwork without speaking.
The blood is flowing again and my pussy is throbbing. I can see my clit in my mind, laughing at me, taunting me. I’ve never thought of being with a woman, but right now I want Francine to attack my pussy. Slap it. Pound it into submission. My eyes are squeezed shut, I struggle against the ropes. I’m desperate. I’ll do anything. The tape is ripped from my mouth.
“I HATE MY MOTHER!”
“That’s productive,” Francine said.
She sets a chair next to the bed, removes the other clothespins and sits down. The pain is worse than having them applied. Flowing blood ignites my nipples and stokes the fire in my pussy. I’ve never wanted to cum so bad.
“I didn’t mean that. She’s so infuriating. All she talks about is me getting married.” I said.
“What was it like when you were younger?” Francine said.
“Are your methods approved by the AMA?” I said.
“It’s the outcome that’s important.” Francine said briefly rubbing my inflamed sex.
“I was Daddy’s girl, he would spend every minute with me, even took me to work when school was out, we would scheme together to sneak out of meetings to get ice cream. It was his company so he could leave whenever he wanted but he made it fun. In the elevator to the board room he would ask “so what’s the plan Kid?”
“When Dad was away Mom would take me on trips. We’d visit different cities, shop, see shows and visit museums. We laughed a lot. They were the best times of my life.” I said.
“Sounds like a wonderful childhood, what changed?” Francine said.
“When Dad died my Mother became obsessed with my dating life.” I said.
“And you rebelled?” Francine said.
“I refused to date anyone.” I said.
“I read a beautiful article on Early Ledbetter in the paper.” Francine said.
“I wrote it.” I said.
“I couldn’t tell, it was so unlike your usual work.” Francine said.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“Just an observation, that’s what Psychologist’s do.” Francine said.
“Are you saying my mother is ruining my life?” I said.
“You use mother when recalling negative feelings.” Francine said.
“It’s frustrating she doesn’t know how I feel.” I said.
“How does your mother feel about losing her husband?” Francine said.
“She was . . . we never talked about it.” I said.
“Children often deal with communication failures by running away.” Francine said.
“I didn’t run away.” I said.
“I see.” Francine said.
“Well I don’t see what this has to do with bondage?” I said.
“As I said, I teach submission.” Francine said.
“What’s the difference?” I said.
“Bondage is a tool. Submission is a state-of-mind, as is anger.” Francine said.
“Don’t I have a right to be angry?” I said.
“Anger is a choice, as is submission.” Francine said untying me.
“We’re done?” I said.
“A full evening I would say.” Francine said.
“I thought there would be something else.” I said.
“I’m sure you can manage,” Francine said handing me my clothes, “see yourself out.”
I’m sure of one thing, Francine is an expert at kicking people out. I need a beer.
Rosie has my draught on the bar before I get to the stool.
“How was it?” Rosie said.
“Disappointing.” I said.
“You can’t expect all the answers in one day.” Rosie said.
“Maybe I should just go home, marry the man of my mother’s dreams and spend all his money. They don’t care as long as you’re available when their mistress is busy. I guess the nuns were right, God didn’t put me on this Earth to be happy.” I said.
“God put you on this Earth, it’s up to you to be happy.” Rosie said.
“You take lessons from Francine?” I said.
“A good bartender studies all of the great philosophers so we can dispense sound advice for any situation. So what’s really bothering you?” Rosie said.
“I have a recurring dream I feel the need to explore.” I said.
“As humans our greatest explorations are often of ourselves.” Rosie said.
“Which philosopher said that?” I said.
“Mr. Spock.” Rosie said.
Rosie puts another beer on the bar.
“I haven’t finished this one yet.” I said.
“You’re buying him a beer.” Rosie said.
I turn around to see Andy walk in. We take a table.
“Why don’t you drink at the casino?” I said.
“I work in casinos, I drink in bars.” Andy said.
“You eat yet?” I said.
“I’m going over to the diner after my beer.” Andy said.
“Want to go to my place? The beer is warm and the food is questionable.” I said.
“Beats chicken fried steak again.” Andy said.
All I have is peanut butter and bread, I make them finger sandwiches to cut away the mold. For the first time I’m embarrassed my only dinnerware is made of paper. Andy is reading the notes I left on the sofa. I take the notebook and hand him the plate.
“Interesting, your family?” Andy said.
“For a story.” I said.
“My mother cuts the crust off the bread too. You a writer?” Andy said.
“Reporter. Will you be tying woman up at the convention?” I said.
“The vendors staff their own booths. You doing a story on bondage?” Andy said.
“Do you tie your girlfriend?” I said.
“Because it sounds personal.” Andy said.
I chug my beer. That should hold the voices of caution and common sense hostage for a while.
“I had an experience recently that didn’t end well.” I said.
“Your limits were violated?” Andy said.
“I wish.” I said.
“I don’t follow you.” Andy said.
“Take me. NOW!” I said.
Andy throws me over his shoulder and carries me to the bedroom, drops me on the bed and straddles my hips to hold me down with the weight of his body, then hesitates.
“TEAR THE SHEETS UP!” I said.
He rips two long strips, hangs one around his neck and wraps the middle of the other around my right wrist five or six times, crosses the ends and feeds them under the wrapping and ties them off forming a cuff with a knot on the back of my wrist with two long tails. Leaning forward with his weight still on my abdomen he pulls the ends around the rail at the end of the headboard and hauls my arm to the corner of the bed, wraps it several times and ties a knot out of my reach. He ties the second strip to my left wrist, rolls off the bed and hauls my arm to the corner with that knot out of reach. Andy pulls the case off the pillow, rolls it into a thick rope and gags me.
Standing at the foot of the bed he tears two more long strips from the sheet and repeats the tying process on my ankles pulling my feet to the corners of the mattress, slides my shoes off and moves to the side of the bed.
Other than my shoes I’m still fully clothed. I really didn’t think this through.
Taking a folding knife from his pocket Andy opens it in front of my face. My eyes repeat what my mind is screaming, do it. The blade slices my shirt open down the front, then a quick snap through the short sleeves and the garment is pulled away and tossed aside. My jeans are opened and the zipper slowly pulled down. Andy rubs my pantie covered mound with the side of the blade before plunging the knife into my crotch and slicing the first leg to the ankle then sawing through the hem. With the other leg split the shredded jeans are pulled free and tossed to the floor.
Andy moves his hand slowly up my leg, across the panel of my panties and up my stomach then slides the blade between my breasts. With a snap of his wrist my bra opens, he cuts the shoulder straps and it joins my other clothes on the floor. He turns his attention back to my panties. A tiny smile cracks the side of his mouth and I know he sees the stain. A pass under each hip and I’m naked.
Andy studies my body before reaching for his belt buckle. He removes his clothes slowly never taking his eyes off me. His body is compact and powerful. Every muscle is defined beneath his skin.
He gets on the bed between my legs, leans over and kisses my neck and chest, then gently sucks and bites my nipples still tender from the clothespins. He rises and takes hold of his erection, veins throbbing along the shaft, and guides it toward its target.
The tip touches my skin and I realize how helpless I am. He’s going to open me, use me. I can’t change my mind. I don’t want to. I feel my juices dripping down to the bed. My pussy lets him in without resistance. He begins a slow powerful rhythm, almost pulling out then thrusting in touching my cervix. Beads of sweat form on his chest, his hips drive his shaft like a piston and impel my arousal.
Andy clenches his face, neck veins are visible.
I feel his hot seed pumping into me. My pussy clamps down on his shaft. I bite down on the gag and pull hard against the posts as my orgasm unleashes a flood of emotion, a primal scream pours from my lungs.
Andy gets off the bed. Exhaustion takes over, my world goes black.
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story continues in Cubby 4