He sat in the easy chair with his feet up, watching Remains of the Day. He took a sip of his Scotch on the rocks and replaced the glass on the end table. The balmy temperature of the living room allowed him to indulge in the comfort of bare feet, jeans and a simple, black t-shirt. He looked to his left.
She sat in a similar chair, legs curled under her in silvery gray leggings, adrift in an oversize sweatshirt. She stared vacantly into the space above the television, the glass of red wine he poured for her earlier untouched on the table between them.
He picked up the remote and clicked the television off. She started, and looked at him, confused.
“What?” she said.
“You’re not watching at all,” he said. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know. I... just,” she trailed off, looking up at the ceiling.
He appeared to come to a decision, and his features became firm.
“Come,” he demanded in a sterner voice. “Kneel.”
She looked at him wide-eyed but got off the chair and moved in front of him. She knelt on the floor at his feet, put her hands flat on her knees and lowered her eyes, waiting.
“You’re... distracted,” he said.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Yes... sir,” she repeated. She kept her eyes down.
“I thought we could have a nice movie night,” he said.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Maybe we need to arrange some other ‘distractions’ for you,” he said.
“What do you think?”
She hesitated. “Perhaps... Perhaps I should be punished, sir,” she ended breathlessly. He could see the smirk even though her head was lowered.
“Cheeky,” he said. “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. Go to the bedroom, get the case, and prepare yourself. Wait for me.” He took another sip of his Scotch and turned the television back on, ignoring her. She got up and walked out of the room.
He watched the movie for five minutes or so and pulled out his phone. He thumbed open an app, and a live video of their bedroom appeared on the small screen. He could see she had already put a small suitcase on the bed and had started to disrobe. She pulled the sweatshirt over her head, revealing that she wore nothing under it as her breasts gently fell. She then peeled the leggings off and tossed them aside, following them with the silk panties she wore underneath. He saw her look around the room and move to stand naked in the middle. As always, he was transfixed by the perfection of her body. She then spread her legs to shoulder width and laced her fingers together behind her head, which pushed her breasts slightly forward. She then remained motionless, although from experience he knew her thoughts were anything but. He left the app open, returning to his movie while occasionally checking to see if she had moved. As always, she never did.
He left her for about twenty minutes before he again turned off the television, downed the last of his scotch and went upstairs to the bedroom. His bare feet allowed him to come down the hall silently, and she almost jumped when he suddenly opened the door, but she remained in place, naked, displaying herself for him. He stood in the doorway, arms folded, and she stared at him, anticipation clear on her face. He walked in and approached her, standing silently in front of her, looking her up and down, watching for any movement. She was a statue.
After a moment he said, “Good girl. Wait here.” She could hear him open the door to the walk-in closet and grunt quietly as if pulling something heavy. He then went to the bed, opened the case, and pulled out several items, laying them on the bed carefully.
“Come here,” he demanded. She turned and walked towards him, slightly swaying.
She could see that the heavy object he brought out was built like a sturdy sawhorse with a heavily padded top. It was attached to a thick piece of bare plywood that formed a wide flat base. It was augmented with eyelets bolted to various points of the legs and base.
“Turn around,” he said. She faced away from him. “Arms back.” She complied and he stepped behind her, close. He wrapped one arm around her elbows, pinning her arms together and pulled her close. He could hear her breathing, heavy, becoming ragged. He ran his other hand up and down her front, gliding over her breasts, pressing on her hips. She responded by grinding herself into him, feeling the growing erection under his jeans. Suddenly, he wrapped his free hand around her neck and pulled her head close to his. He leaned in close to her ear as his grip tightened slightly. He could feel the pulse in her neck.
“What do you want?” he whispered.
“Tie me down. Tight. Fuck me. Hard. Sir. Please,” her voice cracked on the last word.
“I thought you needed to be punished?” he asked with a smirk in his voice.
“Oh yes, sir,” she breathed, chest heaving now.
“Well, your tone makes me think that wouldn’t be much of a punishment,” he said. “We’ll have to do something else first. Bring me the armbinder.” She went to the bed and picked up a large leather object with laces buckles attached. She presented it to him.
“Arms back, hands together,” he said. She put her hands behind her and intertwined her fingers. He pulled the armbinder up over her arms, wrapping the belts around her shoulders and tightening them in the buckles. He began to pull the laces that ran the length of it tight and
closed – a process that took some time. As he finished, her elbows were drawn close together and her arms were held useless behind her back. He went to the bed and retrieved several more leather objects, some short lengths of chain, and a handful of padlocks. He knelt and wrapped a thick leather cuff around her left ankle, securing the buckle with a padlock. He did the same for her right foot. He stood up and held a large ball gag in front of her.
“Open,” he commanded. She did. He pushed the ball in, forcing her jaws apart, and reached behind her head, pulling the strap tight, eliciting a grunt of discomfort from her. He buckled it and then placed a tall leather posture collar around her neck, locking this as well. He stood back,
examining his work. She wriggled lightly, testing her restraints and finding them, as always, inescapable.
He gently pushed her toward the padded sawhorse. He used his feet to push her legs far apart, each of her feet near one of the heavy eyelets. He leaned down and locked each ankle cuff to an eyelet, forcing her to keep her legs wide. He then got a longer piece of chain and clipped it to the
end of her armbinder. He got a small stool from the closet and stood next to her, holding the chain. He had placed the bench under a strong hook in the ceiling, and he now slowly pulled the chain up, forcing her to bend forward. When she was bent at almost ninety degrees, he stopped
and attached the chain to the hook.
He came down, went around in front of her, leaned down and looked at her. He held her eyes without speaking for a long moment, and her eyes widened as she again tested her bonds. He then took another chain and clipped it to the front of her collar, pulling her down a bit more,
completing her angle as he clipped that chain to an eyelet on the base.
She was now stuck in position, bent over at the waist, feet held apart, ass and pussy spread invitingly, arms held up behind her and head held low. But he wasn’t finished yet.
He got a thick belt from the belt and slid it around her waist, buckling it tightly. The belt had a slimmer piece hanging from the front and back that was obviously meant to go between the legs. He left them for now and retrieved something else. He stood in front of her. He swung the clover clamps from their chain just low enough that she could see them with her head held down by the collar. She squealed and began struggling in earnest. He knew she hated the clamps, and she knew that he loved putting the clamps on her. He sat down on the floor.
“I agree that punishment is what you need,” he said. “However, I think the punishment you want and the punishment you deserve are two distinct things.” He reached up and rolled her nipples in his fingers. She moaned, partly from pleasure and partly from apprehension. She shook her head as best she could, which wasn’t much. He opened the jaws of one clamp and placed it over her right nipple, letting it close slowly.
He put its partner on her left nipple, leaving the chain hanging between them.
“Nnnngh! Nnnngh! Mmmmmph! Ahhhh!” The gag rendered anything she would have said unintelligible. He clipped a snap hook to the chain and ran another piece of chain from that to the base, clipping it to another convenient eyelet. This pulled her nipples down ever so slightly. Her position and restraints made it impossible for her to stretch and obtain any relief or pull hard enough to dislodge them. She closed her eyes and moaned. He smiled.
“Almost done,” he said. She whined, overcome with desire and beginning to regret her earlier impertinence.
He came back behind her and pressed something up against her pussy. It was well-lubricated, though her excitement rendered that unnecessary. He slid the vibrator in fully resting a small nub against her clit. She then felt something press up against her ass, as he slowly pushed the plug
until it slid home. Though she could not see, each had a wire running from it, and he left these hang as he closed the belt between her legs. He placed a box with dials at her feet where she could see it and plugged it into the wall socket. He then plugged her vibrator and butt plug into the box.
“Like I said,” he told her, “be careful what you wish for. You need some time to think about that. Then, maybe, we’ll think about giving you what you want.”
He turned a knob on the box. The vibrator came to life in her, its low pulsing just enough to excite her, but nowhere near allowing her to come. She knew it would do nothing but frustrate her and drive her mad. He turned another know and a brief jolt ripped through her ass, causing
her to jump as far as she could and yelp pitifully. The vibrator continued its slow ministrations, and she was already panting and moaning into her gag, trying unsuccessfully to grind her hips enough to get off.
He watched her for a few minutes. He could tell another shock hit her when she cried out again and her body stiffened.
She pulled, the tight restraints frustrating and exciting her in equal measure. Her thoughts were becoming incoherent, as the vibrator, bondage and shocks reduced her entire world to waves of pain, pleasure and need. She attempted to plead through the gag, but he remained unmoved.
“Well,” he said conversationally, “I’m going to go have a drink and watch some TV. I’ll be back later.” He walked out of the bedroom, leaving her to her predicament.
She felt like she was getting so close to orgasm, and she clenched as hard as she could, bucking her hips as much as her bonds allowed, but to no avail as another shock ran through her and she screamed in genuine anger, overcome and unknowing of how long her plight would last.
He set the glass of scotch on the end table and settled into the easy chair, opening the app on his phone that allowed him to watch her suffer, as he turned on the television and turned to an episode of The Walking Dead. The app had no sound, but he could just hear her frustrated cries
during quiet parts of the program. He took a sip of his scotch and noted that the episode had forty-seven minutes left to run. He thought about watching another as well. When we get there, he told himself.