Binding Love 2

by John Roper

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© Copyright 2003 - John Roper - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; bond; susp; cons; X

(story continues from )

story continues from part one

Part Two

�Do you not yet know what this is all about?� I asked after grabbing and pinning Love�s wrists to the mattress and roughly grinding my left upper thigh into her violently gyrating lower torso.

She glared up at me defiantly. �If I�d known what you were up to I would never have signed on with For Most.� She punctuated the disclosure with a spirited display of fuming body language. �You TRICKED me. You stalked and manipulated me into this situation, knowing full well that my inexperience would be at your mercy, and you did it in as deceitful and selfish a manner as a highway man lying in wait for an unsuspecting coach-n-four.�

I raised my brows a bit. �My-my, but we are getting testy now, aren�t we; articulate as well.�

�And as for that slut you invited to this little party of yours,� she spat, vehemently, �just because there was no contractual mention of disallowing others to participate gives you no reason to believe I was in the least bit interested in doing so.�

�Perhaps now you will be a bit more careful when signing important documents,� I suggested, with a hint of disciplining fervor in my tone.

Her eyes suddenly froze in their tracks to reflect the inner pondering of my simple but stinging advice. �...And I�m supposed to be grateful to you for offering your insulting slap on the wrist?� 

�You have not yet answered my question,� I parried.

�I know EXACTLY what this is all about.�

My eyes were directly over hers. �Don�t you want to have another female around, just in case, or would you rather I send Gail home?�

Love settled down a bit. �Just in case of what?� 

I smiled and planted a soft, innocent kiss on her non-reciprocating mouth. �Kiss me and I�ll tell you.�

�And if I won�t?�

About A Half Hour Later

When her cellular signaled, Gail had just finished preparing a corner of the basement for Love�s next little adventure. �Yes?�

�How we doin�?�

�The stage is set.�

�Good. Now go back to your room and wait. There�s a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen.�


I hung up and took a last sip of light, two sugars before heading back to Love�s room.

My deep thinking damsel was in underwear and six inch heels, waiting on the edge of the bed, well bound, with cinches at the ankles and upper calves. Elbows and wrists were also roped together behind her back. She was too hot for words, both visually and sensually. All she could think of were the kisses she�d denied her trainer, and how the refusal might affect her immediate future. She�d also not given me an answer, either way, as to whether or not I should send Gail home. But the slap on the wrist about contract signing was the goad that really cut her to the quick.

�Stand Up,� I instructed from the doorway as I strolled in and stood before Love�s sudden, wide-eyed look.

�And If I won�t?�

�Then we take your level 7 intensity setting to its outer cutting edges.�

She squirmed a bit, but would not stand. �I�m not in the mood right now.�

�Have it your way.� said I before grabbing the front of her bra, pulling her up onto her feet, and throwing Love over my right shoulder. �Then it�s off to the dungeon for you, my sweet, where anything can happen, and usually does.�

She said nothing, but continued to struggle wildly en route. I ascended the basement staircase slowly, savoring the smell of moist pussy and giving my charge a sharp swat on the ass every so often to pepper the next phase of my contractual duties with a legal dose of discipline whenever her thrashing reached unacceptable levels. 

�You�re gonna love it down here. It�s a great place to hang out; �hang� being the operative word.�

�You bastard!�

�Now-now, it isn�t proper for a lady of your age and demeanor to speak in such a way to her trainer.�

�Trainer, my ass,� spat Love. 

I gave her one more hard spank before sitting her down on a plain, wooden stool and locking her heels into its bottom cross bar. She watched as I bound them to it, but soon became aware of the various posters and pictures of herself that hung from the walls of our immediate area. They were a newly photographed collection of Lovell�s more provocative persona, geared to titillate, tease, and drive crazy the demographic she�d thus far targeted and captivated by her up-to-now, underexposed figure. Her mouth dropped open.

�Where did you get those?�

I stood and looked her in the eye. �Guess.�

�Only Rick has...�

�Right, and now we have them, and you, right were we want them.�

Love�s astonishment was numbing. �But how...�

�Our little secret. You�ve been a very naughty, under aged little lady, Love.�

She watched as I walked to the gear wall to select a 50-foot skein of three-eighths-inch-thick, seamless soft line. �Not even my parents know about those pictures.�

�They do now.� As I lowered a lasso around Love�s torso, and tightened it off just under her bra, the truth of the moment was revealed to her awe-struck attention. �They have been suspicious of your plans for quite a while, and have taken steps to ensure you not carry them out.�

A jolt of sobering fear raced down Love�s innards. �But I�m 18 now. I can do what I like.�

I started wrapping her up with the 50-footer. �Perhaps, but not before we make certain consequences clear to your unenlightened protestations. Besides, you weren�t 18 when you signed on with us, making the document worthless. However, the one your mom signed is ironclad. Know what I mean?�

The feel of tight rope around Love�s upper body took on a whole new meaning, so did the suddenly throbbing wet spot between her legs. �They know about the details of my 40-hour contract with For Most?�

�44,� I corrected. �Yup.�



Her arms were now welded to her torso. Love�s silence spoke volumes to what was now going on in her overwhelmed thinking. Before she could say another word, I stuffed her mouth with organic sponge and wrapped up her lower face with several tight turns of Ace bandage. I said nothing more while continuing to prepare Love for her next ordeal. She made two fists, keeping her hands tightly closed, but tensely active throughout.


15 Minutes Later

The platform was 17 inches off the floor, and housed the turntable mechanism upon which Love stood at strict attention. Cinches at her ankles, calves, knees and thighs dug their ropes deep into Love�s long, shapely legs. A tether line ran from the collection of webbed rope work between her upper arms to an industrial strength hook in the ceiling. A doubled and hot-spot-knotted, not-too-tight crotch rope, from front waist ropes to wrist cinch, completed the bind. If she wanted friction, all love had to do was bend her knees, which, in turn, shifted the responsibility of sustaining her body weight to the upper arm/torso ropes and ceiling tether.

I stepped up onto the platform with her, reached into my pocket for a key chain, to which a pocketknife was attached, opened its main blade, and, with its dull side, toyed with Love�s nose as I spoke. 

�It�s time to ponder a few consequences, sweet damsel. We already know, thanks to my practiced ability and your parent�s uncommonly profound wisdom, that you are now irreversibly hooked on bondage. When this weekend is over, we are certain you will seek out others of our kind to satiate that newly discovered, sensual wrinkle in your life. Given your high profile career, finding and trusting that special someone will be difficult, if not impossible, leaving you no choice but to seek me, or others connected to For Most Fantasies out. Why, because we have all been sworn to secrecy, and have signed legal documents to that effect. If we break that agreement, your folks will sue our butts off, and we don�t intend to provoke them into doing that.�

I used the business end of the knife to carefully and delightedly cut off Love�s bra as I spoke. �If you attempt to publish any of the posters you see hanging about, we will make certain the bondage experiences that follow will make an intensity ten feel like amateur night.�

She watched as I unceremoniously clamped a five-ounce fishing sinker to each of her now erect nipples. �Muhuhuh.�

�I knew you�d like that,� I said as I stepped back and down off the platform. She watched me remove a remote from my pants pocket, press one of its buttons, and walk away and up the staircase. �Have fun.�

�Wonder what that remote click was all about.� was Love�s first thought as she looked about for a possible outcome and did her best to bring some crotch rope friction to her shaved pussy. The wrist cinch was too well secured to her rump for tugging. However, she soon realized that all she had to do to get the knotted crotch rope going was bend her knees a bit to increase the upward mobility of her bound arms, taking full advantage of the ceiling hook tether tension. �YES!�

The wall opposite Love was a ceiling-to-floor mirror, with posters of her near naked body on either side of her suspension�s reflection. Little by little, she used the ceiling hook line by bending her knees rhythmically to create a pleasurable knotty sawing sensation between her legs. As a consequence, the weight of her body on the platform decreased by a few pounds with each, more drastic bending of her knees until a hundred pound weight reading on the preset scale inside the hidden mechanism triggered an electric motor that started the turntable upon which Love was standing.

�What the...�

Round and round she went, at a rate of 20 revolutions per minute, causing the suspension rope above to corkscrew and shorten into itself.

�What the hell is going on here?�

Love knew that the tether line would soon shorten if the turntable continued to do its thing, raising her off the platform in the process. The presumed outcome inspired several seconds of semi-pleasurable writhing, during which my stunned damsel�s sexual arousal tripled. The basement walls and posters flashed and passed before her wide-open eyes as she spun slowly and waited for the inevitable.

�He�s out of his frickin� mind,� she figured before the 20th revolution revealed yet another maddening wrinkle to the ride. �I�m still on the turntable.� She looked up at the ceiling hook rope. As expected, it was tightly tangling. Another, more careful look at the base of the platform inspired a less than ladylike response. 


The turntable had risen with her, thanks to the thinly threaded, half-inch-thick, stainless steel bar that connected it to the motor below. Love knew the bar could not be longer than the height of the platform, giving her some idea as to when her elevation would terminate, but she had no idea what would happen after that.
In spite of what the platform mechanism was doing to her powers of deduction, Love continued to bend her knees and struggle in her ropes, confident that, whatever happened, it would surely be something so far removed from her limited experience, the memory of it would probably keep her up nights for the next several months.

�And my parents know about all this?� she contemplated, while a cloud of disbelief shrouded her frazzled sense of reason and gave false comfort to her already overworked anxiety. �He cut my bra off. My contract said he couldn�t do that.� It suddenly re-occurred to her that the contract she signed was not binding. �Shit. I wonder what else my folks� permission will allow them to do.� 

Within the space of just a few minutes, Love was 14-inches off the platform, writhing sensually and glancing up at the heavy-duty, silvery hook directly above. A clump of hideously contorted rope had collected just under it, adding yet another visually unique, mirror reflected element to the forthcoming conclusion at hand. She lowered her head to avoid hitting the cross beam into which the hook had been screwed, and thought, �I hope he knows what he�s doing,� before wondering if she should lift her feet off its pedestal to avoid the �inevitable.�

A split second later, the last thread at the base of the rising bar ended with the tripping of a brass nub, which triggered another gizmo that dropped the sandpaper-carpeted turntable back and into its original, platform level niche. As a result, Love was suspended in mid air. 25% of her body weight was brought to bear on her now harshly crotch roped pussy. Two seconds later, she stopped spinning completely and started spinning in the opposite direction; at first, very slowly, but the exponential acceleration made her gasp with severe trepidation.

�Brilliant,� she admitted. �Abso-fucking-lutely brilliant.�

As the centrifugal affect increased, so did the weight of the nipple weights. She looked down at them crazily. Little by little, thy went from hanging to standing straight out into the musty, damp, unfinished basement corner. The effect was dizzying, to say the least, but the sexual time bomb ticking away between Love�s legs didn�t seem to care, one way or another. 

�When in Rome,� figured Love before tearing into her bondage and appreciating every last nuance, oblique causation, and sensual demand the bind perpetuated.
The crotch rope pressure remained constant, a factor Love both loved and hated at the same time. The room was soon just a blur in her half closed eyes as the full impact of the configuration drove her into a state of pure bondage bliss. She stopped thinking just after streamlining her body to acquire maximum spin efficiency. An aura of timelessness ensued...

�Oh-yes...Yes...Yes! ...YES! TRAIN me! Teach me! SPANK me! ...What was I THINKING?� 

Love felt the tips of her shoes touch the platform. To prolong the experience, she lifted her feet to avoid ending the ride, thereby causing the suspension rope to continue corkscrewing in the opposite direction. As it did, Love slowly lowered her feet, knowing the rope would soon raise her off the platform again.
�I love it. I absolutely, unconditionally love it!� she appreciated as a series of spectacular multiples impacted Love�s crevice and her pleasurably thrashing body caused the nipple weights to do all sorts of helpfully climactic things to her overloaded sensual awareness. �But I�m still gonna find a way to publish those posters, no matter what the consequences,� determined Love while the multiples delivered their affirming conclusions unto her satiated incredulity.
Almost all of the posters depicted Love in suggestive bondage positions.

Meanwhile, On The Phone

�Yes, Mrs. Stone, I understand.�

�No matter what happens, my husband must also know nothing of this.�

I smiled and pondered the possibilities our little gambit could realize, and put more icing on the cake. �I�m sure we will all come to some kind of understanding before the weekend is over.�

�Call me tomorrow.�

10 Minutes Later

Love was again standing at strict attention on the turntable. When she heard my footsteps on the stairs, rather than raise her head and eyelids, she decided to play it cool and wait to see what I�d planned for her next, without betraying the slightest hint of satisfaction. Her body glistened with sweat, a clear sign that Love had taken her first ride on the toy I�d spent weeks building and testing on Gail.

I stepped up onto the platform and undid the gag. �Just got off the phone with your mom. She�s confident you will come to your senses before the weekend is over.�

The look on her face was decidedly uncommon to her vocabulary of expressions. �I don�t believe you.�

I reached into my pocket for a tiny tape recorder and played back the 10-minute-before conversation. While love listened, I slowly but doggedly planted kiss after kiss on her neck and shoulders, while my hands grabbed at and caressed her perfect little ass.

�If she ever asks,� replayed Mrs. Stone, I will deny having anything to do with this. �She must never know that it was I who set her up with For Most.�

�Yes, Mrs. Stone, I understand.�

I clicked things off and placed the machine in my pocket before putting my arms around Love�s livid countenance and bringing my lips to within a quarter inch of hers. �Now, how about that kiss?�

She could not resist the need. I took full advantage. Several passionate seconds passed, during which I was careful not to step on the turntable. The rush of oral contact quickly overtook love. All she could do was stand there and take whatever I was inspired to give her. We said nothing, though I could not resist giving her a swat on the cheek, every so often.

By the look in her eyes, it appeared Love expected, if not prepared to be taken, ravaged, raped, whatever. It took every ounce of my self-control to keep any of those forbidden perks from happening. A few minutes of heavy humping and kissing passed before Love decided to bend her knees for a little crotch rope activity.

I smiled in the middle of a passionate wet one, let go of her, stepped back, and unzipped my pants. When I pulled down my briefs and took my erection in hand, without thinking of the inevitable consequences, Love bent her knees to achieve a more intense effect, thereby triggering the electric motor. Stunned surprise caused her jaw to drop as she started revolving on the turntable once again. I pulled up a chair and sat to watch the show.

With every revolution, Love stared down at my rock hard erection and writhed wantonly in her ropes, bending her knees in concert with the strokes I couldn�t help but apply to my own situation.

My cellular signaled. �...Yes?�

�Now what?� asked Gail from the kitchen.

�Get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow. Breakfast at ten, and don�t burn the toast.�

�What�s happening down there?�

�Nothing much. �Love and I are just fulfilling our contractual duties.�

John Roper

  to be continued...

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