| Gromet's Plaza | Bondage Stories |
| Damsel in Distress |
| by John Roper |
| tizerup2thriller@aol.com |
| © 2006 - John Roper - Used by permission |
| storycodes: MMF/fff; bond; susp; cons; X |
| Damsel in Distress 2 by John Roper MMF/fff; bond; susp; cons; X |
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Part Three Barbara could not accurately determine how long it had been since John's latest revelation impacted her somewhat overwhelmed sensibilities. Both she and time were obviously on vacation, suspended, as it were, in a moment beyond time, beyond reason, in a reality she'd never contemplated or experienced before. 'I feel like a butterfly caught in a spider's web,' she analogized after her third and fourth writhing frenzy drove her out to the brink of yet another impossible climax. 'How long did he say?' The ticking of a clock focused her audio awareness on a far corner. 'If I could just get some friction somewhere.' Stretching her legs brought both nipples to within a quarter inch of the silk sheets below. It was to this end that Barbara Gwenn manipulated herself until her trainer went off duty. The feel of his right hand on her left ass cheek sent a jolt of fearful expectation up and down her outraged nervous system. "Mmmuh!" 'I didn't hear him come in.' She felt the weight of his body settling in on the mattress. The gag was removed. "John?" He did not answer. "Is that you?" Still no answer; just the delicious caress she had so longed to suffer. "Please say something." Instead, he grabbed a fistful of hair, pulled her head back, and stuffed her mouth with an organic sponge. "Ahnnmm!" It was soon held in place with several turns of Elastoplast. Barbara recognized the feel of her keeper's hands as he worked the gag. 'Thank goodness.' A sigh had barely escaped her nostrils when the feel of something harsh impacted her vulnerability with the sudden knowledge only the well executed sting of a high speed switch could minister. It sunk deep into her buttocks, running parallel to the head frame, and seemed to go on for a minute or so in super slow motion indifference to how the event was bulls-eyeing Barbara's under-indulged expectations. She waited a second stroke, expecting the worst, but it never came.
A part of her wanted it to. Another part screamed, 'Are you out of your
mind?' John removed the blindfold and stepped back to wait on his damsel's
eyes to clear and focus. She gazed up at his nearly naked form. The bulge
in his bright-white briefs sent a rush of molten blood to her groin. An
autonomic signal caused her hands to flex helplessly, just an inch and
a half from the point-of-impact shockwave now growing wider and wider beneath
and above the soft, milky surface of her perfect little rump.
The wonder of the moment made Barbara's vitals twitch with torn delight. The soaked up puddle beneath seemed to validate her predicament in a way all to familiar to her trainer's practiced sensitivities. He glanced at his wristwatch before removing it and placing it on the night table to their left. Barbara had been bound for a little more than an hour, only, to her, it seemed more like two. John walked out of her field of vision, removed his briefs, climbed onto the bed, and straddled her upper legs. The erection Barbara had waited too long to feel inside her came to rest on the tops of her pinkies. "Mmuh, mmuhuh," appreciated John's damsel as the weight of her man's upper body joined hers, and the ropes dug deeper into her arms and torso. Barbara groped for a grip on her lover's stick as he reached under the pillow to their right for what looked like the handle of a knife. Her suspicions were soon confirmed when the unmistakable click of an instantly emerging switchblade widened her eyes and sent a shiver of sexual fear racing to her frantically twitching lower parts. The ropes dug deeper into her flesh as she struggled furiously in her wantonly vacillating deliberations. She lowered her head and closed her eyes to avoid the unthinkable, only to feel the soft groping of her lover's hand on her left breast and nipple. "MMUHUH!" she screamed just before her fantasy man cut the line that held her suspended torso in check. They fell to the bed. Another hand worked the right breast for a bit before the weight of John's body lifted off his damsel's back. She continued to get as good a grip as she could on his hardness, but without success, given the angle and his teasing, inch-by-inch withdrawal. He was quickly off the bed, undoing the knots at the bedpost of the right leg tether. Barbara felt her knee bend as the ball of her foot made contact with the right ass cheek. John then bound her ankle to its corresponding upper thigh with five turns of rope and a two-turn cinch. While he did, his damsel rested and collected her scattered thoughts. The left ankle was soon similarly bound to its thigh. Barb turned her head right, stared at the knife lying on the pillow, and wondered if she would soon regain the use of her arms. A double-edged wish overtook her as she wondered if John would take her, bound. The thought passed quickly in the realization of his now, sprawled out presence to her right. He rolled her onto her left side and filled the gap between them with his fit-n-trim physique. Barbara was soon in his arms and left leg, hanging off the bed, feeling his erection between her legs. He reached for the night table drawer, extracted a remote, punched out the lights, and clicked on the 36 inch TV screen against the wall beyond the foot of the bed. If he'd let go of her, Barbara would have fallen to the floor. The possibility elevated her sense of the absurd to newer heights of incredulity. 'I've never been this horny in all my life. He'd better take me, or I will surely faint from frustration.' The image on the TV screen gave Barbara another major reason to wonder
what would happen next. Pamela, the girl she ran into at the front door,
the one who liked to dress in tight, high skirted suits, filled the screen
with an image so profoundly unimaginable it sent Barbara into a state of
complete and utter, awe inspiring suspension. It was then that John decided
to inject himself into the moment. The feel of his throbbing erection entering
her under-satisfied crevice set off a series of writhing undulations, giving
Barbara cause to let fly another medley of hit tunes from out of the newly
forming song book of her kinky passion.
Meanwhile, in the attic, Pamela did her best to maintain a perilous balance as she dealt with her dilemma and wondered who was watching it on closed circuit TV. Thanks to the hairdo she'd chosen for the latter part of the evening's challenges, and the leather gag that covered the lower part of her handsome face, unless one was intimately familiar with Pam's built-like-a-brick-shit-house figure, there was no way to determine who she was. Tethers tied to comfortable leather cuffs, held her ankles wide apart, and arms, by the wrists, to the rafters of the 156 year old attic, creating a spread-eagled 'X' atop 7 inch, black, patent-leather heels. She was double plugged with a red-leather chastity belt, and her nipples tethered with dental floss, bringing her ample breasts a half inch closer than they would have been had the floss not been applied. A ten-ounce fishing sinker, dangling from the center of the nipple tether, rounded off the fix. The flexing of fingers, and the clicking of locking gears, echoing through the large room, made it clear to any trained observer that Pamela was being stretched in all four, extremity directions. A vibrating dildo affixed to a stick directly under her plugged and throbbing wet spot, gave her reason to spread her legs further. But, alas, the attempt was a futile one, given the wrist tether restriction, unless, of course, Chris chose to give her some slack, which he would, eventually. The more he gave her, the closer she would get to injecting the dildo into the strapped in, hollow plug in her gushing pussy. But for now, things were as they should be, and viewers had no choice but to wait with Pam as the drama of delayed gratification unfolded into the matrix of the evening's outcomes. Barbara was beside herself with justifiable concern for what could happen to her next, which, of course, had its desired effect on John's end of things. He rolled them away from the side of the bed and sat her atop him. Impaled as Barbara was, there was nothing she could do but kneel, wait for friction, and hope her lover would not come before she did. The nipple pinching and breast massaging continued, as did our damsel's writhing body language, which she soon realized made her lover's pulsating hardness even bigger and longer inside of her. She tried not to struggle, knowing how it would affect John's severely taxed self-control, but the decision had long since gone autonomic on her end of things. The dilemma was classic. The smile on John's face said it all. His damsel was in a state of extreme sensual distress, and she could not have been more pleased with its eventual, unprecedented outcomes. Part Four When Barbara entered the TV room, the first revelation to catch her
eye made the black-leather collar around her neck tighten somewhat. 'Thank
goodness no one's here.'
'Wonder what time it is,' she thought while sitting and waiting on the next phase of her first B/D party experience. The image on monitor was Pamela, in the same configuration she'd been in since John punched her up in the bedroom, with one, notably stimulating difference. The vibrating dildo on the end of the stick directly below her crotch was now buried deep inside the hollow-rubber penis within her perennially twitching pussy. To make matters worse, given the sardonic genius of the fix, Pamela could do nothing to help things along. Her legs were stretched too far apart, and arms tethered too purposefully to the outer extremes of her dilemma. A constant stream of moans, groans and animal wails gushed from out her severely stuffed and restrained lower face, filling the quadraphonic-wired, audiovisual chamber with the kind of feedback Barbara was sure would soon reverberate throughout her own, soon-to-be, bound-and-gagged submissiveness. 'Why am I still here?' she asked herself. 'It isn't as if these guys
kidnapped me, or something.' The strapless, very high cut, tight fitting
leather outfit John had chosen for phase three of his new damsels’ adventure
clung to her like several coats of rubber paint. All she had on underneath
were next-to-nothing, black panties. 'I've never been this horny, for this
long, in all my life.'
Barbara's focus left the screen as she crossed her legs and assumed a more attentive posture. She wanted to say something smart, but the words never got to her vocal chords. Her fingers locked and found a place to settle, atop her dominant, left kneecap. She was not gagged, but the freedom to speak simply would not exercise its power. The image on screen faded to black. The door opened, and in walked top-heavy Tanya, in the same outfit Barbara was wearing, only she was blindfolded, with arms parallel bound, at the elbows and wrists, behind her back. Jackie escorted her to a wooden, industrial strength, straight-back chair, which had been screwed down to the floor and situated between Barbara and the 55-inch monitor. Tanya's arms were guided over the back of the chair as she sat. A leather bag, filled with ropes and such, and slung over her keeper’s right shoulder, was quickly emptied onto the floor. Barbara watched as Jackie bound Pamela to the chair. The expertise with
which she did so sent a reminding shiver up and down her strictly postured
uneasiness. The temptation to touch herself inspired another stressful
minute or three of kinky contemplation... Her interlocked fingers tightened
their grips considerably...
Tanya was not gagged, but she spoke not a word, wondering if she and her unknown binder were the only partygoers in the room. Her ankles were crossed and bound; lower thighs, too. A tether ran from her wrists, under the chair, to her ankles, which were drawn directly under the seat by the no-slack length of 3/8ths inch nylon line Jackie securely knotted to the bottom-rear spar of the chair. Another line ran from a waist lasso, down between her legs, under her rump, to the wrist tether, and back again to the waist lasso. Jackie brought the soul of her right skyscraper up the right side of the chair, and started pulling on the line, and didn't stop until all its slack had been taken out. The double-edged crotch rope dug deep into Tanya's crevice, pinching the snug-fitting, leather skirt in the process. She threw her head back and opened her mouth wide while Jackie did the knots in the waist lasso. For the next three minutes, Barbara watched Jackie weld Tanya's torso
to the back of the chair with a hundred foot length of half inch thick,
deeply seamed, nylon rope, making it almost impossible for Chris' top-heavy
damsel to negotiate any appreciable, crotch rope friction.
And Barbara figured, 'Something tells me that woman more than just enjoys
her work.' A concentrated scan of the room revealed an obvious, one-way-mirror
bubble at each ceiling corner. Knowing that John, and perhaps others were
watching her moves, and possibly listening for her vocalized thoughts,
made the decision at hand a bit more complex to ponder. Once again, Barbara
considered the possibilities, recalling the 'consequences' precipitated
by her last, out-on-a-limb choice. 'I love the way these guys think,' she
realized before smiling, and nodding her head a few times.
Tanya had been struggling pleasurably in her bondage, doing her best
to achieve as much crotch rope friction as the fix would permit. When she
felt Barbara's hands on her shoulders, her stunned body language shifted
into a higher gear.
The TV screen was suddenly filled with video of Tanya and Joyce, the
operative who set her up for the forthcoming surveillance footage. Barbara
continued to 'take advantage' of the situation as the tape played itself
into the disciplinary action at hand. There was no 'live' audio accompanying
the exchange. However, there was a voice-over to tweak the tension as only
a practiced master can.
Barbara did just that as a new image appeared on screen. She watched
it, while securing the gag buckle at the nape of her damsel’s neck. Both
women watched as a totally nude woman was escorted into what looked like
a dungeon, complete with sweaty, stone and mortared walls, dirt floors,
hooks, chains, and such hanging from the ceiling, and rope skeins on shelves,
ledges and tables everywhere. A cylindrical, gray-painted, metallic pole
dominated the center of the room. The woman was taken to it. Her wrists
had already been crossed and tied together in front of her.
Tanya and Barbara watched as both keepers undid the slipknot in the
wall ring and hoisted damsel Dolores up onto her toes. The move pulled
her away from the pole, stretching her arms in the process. The crotch
line dug deep into where it would do the most good. The wall ring hoist
rope was secured with hard knots, a ten ounce fishing sinker hung from
the nipple tether, and, after the dungeon door was closed and locked, damsel
Dolores was left to her speculating-kinky thoughts.
Barbara did not hesitate, passing on John's lines as she jockeyed for
position in her very overwrought charge's lap. "If someone else should
break security in the future, and we find out about it, they will soon
find themselves tied to this chair, watching you on 'live' TV go through
what damsel Dolores is now experiencing. Either that, or never return to
this house, and we will assume you are not willing to accept punishment
for your disobedient actions. The choice is yours... I have to pee. See
you in a bit. We still have some pleasurable, unfinished business to attend
to, you and I." With that, Barbara gave Tanya a look so flushed with sexual
innuendo it sent her into a tailspin of negative anticipation. Barb stood,
without removing her gaze from the worried one on Tanya's face, looked
over at the TV screen, smiled, and very slowly left the room.
They led to a basement, and continued down a winding corridor to a dead
end, where two, hooded keepers waited at attention, arms folded, legs spread
about a foot and half apart. They both wore the same outfit Jackie had
been wearing all evening. Without saying a word, one of them gave Barbara
a ring of keys before leading the other back up the corridor and out of
the scene.
Before Barbara could take a fourth step, Chris and John grabbed her
by the arms, lifted and carried her two more steps, waited two seconds
for the lights to come on, guided and pinned her back to the ceiling-to-floor,
shiny-brass pole in the center of the 14 by 14 foot room, and quickly parallel
bound her arms together behind it at the upper shoulders, elbows, forearms
and wrists. The zipper down the side of Barbara's dress was opened, and
the sexy garment removed. She struggled fiercely, but loved every second
of the experience. Within minutes, she was securely roped to the pole at
the ankles, upper calves, lower and upper thighs, torso and crotch. Her
waist had been purposely excluded from the wrap. The men then left the
room, and locked the door.
Meanwhile, back in the TV room, Tanya's orgasms were mercilessly impacting
her fear of the future, without letup. Her bodice had been pulled down
and 5-ounce sinkers dental flossed to each nipple. Every synapse, nerve
ending, and heartbeat was short-circuiting in concert with every other
sensual and emotional feeling she was capable of generating. John turned
up the lights and punched her image up on his main screen, then piped it
into Barbara's room, through the set hanging to her left. A third set hung
directly above and in front of her. She wondered what would show up on
it, and pondered the possibility that it might be her predicament. A scan
of the room revealed several, carefully placed mirrors. There were no sweaty-stone
walls, or dirt floor, which was covered with a light-tan, industrial strength,
wall-to-wall carpet. The entire ceiling illuminated fluorescent. Barbara
had been dancing on the edge of a belated orgasm for almost five minutes
when John interrupted her train of thought. "Can we put you on center screen?"
The door swung open. Jackie walked to the pole, stuffed Barbara's mouth
with sponge, held it in place with a blue ball gag, tied a 5 ounce sinker
to each nipple with dental floss, and left.
Barbara knew that if she nodded a yes now, her orgasm would be caught
on tape. She lowered her head to think, and threw it back in a gesture
of near completion. John misconstrued the body language and punched off
the VCR/record/pause function switch. Barbara's exploding image appeared
on center screen. Her eyes were closed during the next several minutes
of sensual catharsis, so she did not witness the event on the center monitor,
nor was she aware that she was being taped.
Barbara's multiple was approaching closure. She opened her eyes and
saw herself on television. The enlightenment was all she needed to put
the final, finishing touches on her out-of-control eruption. It went on
a good deal longer than expected. Barbara struggled furiously to get the
nipple sinkers dancing in just the right way.
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