Double or Nothing

by T S Fesseln

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© Copyright 2011 - T S Fesseln - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF/ff; M/f; D/s; captive; bond; rope; gag; frogtie; bdsm; mast; sex; climax; reluct/nc; X

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Chapter 7

After a refreshing shower, Ray got dressed, humming to himself the commercial theme for Double Barrel Ale. He could hear his wife Janice turning the shower off and getting herself dressed as well. It had been a long, exhausting day so far and he wanted to take a quick break from it all.

Ray grabbed a bottle of Fat Tire out of the fridge and sat himself down on the old couch in the living room. All the furniture in this place had pretty much come from thrift stores and nothing matched. There was no sense in buying anything new since they were planning on just leaving everything here after they were done. Let somebody else figure out what to do with it.

Janice joined him, relaxing in one of the mismatched armchairs and nibbling on some Ritz crackers. She had donned a nice cream-colored blouse and a pair of tight-fitting blue jeans. A pair of black thigh-high boots completed her outfit. He could see by the slight jiggling of her breasts that she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath.

“Whatcha thinking?” Janice asked.

“Nothing. Just trying not to think for a stretch. We can’t fuck this one up.”

“We can’t fuck up any of them,” Janice said, “It would be hard to explain to the kids why we’re behind bars.”

Ray smiled, “Speaking of the kids, had a chance to talk to them?”

“Spoke with Jeffery. He said things were going okay. Said that Stephanie was out and about but I am sure he‘s keeping a pretty tight leash on her. Sounds like they’re enjoying their parentless paradise.”

“I’d bet,” Ray took a long draw on his beer, “That’s what we need, a real vacation to a real island. Just you and I. Maybe a cruise around Hawaii.”

“Sounds wonderful. Perhaps after this is done. . .”

Janice trailed off. The business always came first, sometimes even before the kids. It was hard, but when an assignment came in, you had to expedite it ASAP or you may not be in the queue for the next one.

“Your turn to make dinner,” Ray said, setting down his beer on the coffee table.

“And what are you going to do?”

Ray gave her a shark-like grin, “I’m going to play the not-so-bad-cop.”


Cassandra’s stomach ached from her sobs as well from being empty. She pulled at her restraints again, trying to find some give to them, but there was none. She knew there wouldn’t be, but she had to do something. Her shoulders ached. Her wrists had been cuffed behind her back and then pulled up toward the ceiling, so she was forced to lean forward. The position was awkward at best and left little room to struggle. She could pull at her cuffed ankles tied to the brass foot railing, but it did no good.

The warm prickling between her legs was growing more intense. She could feel it inflaming her clit, making it more sensitive. She squirmed about, trying to get some sort of relief, but, bound as she was, she couldn’t. She whimpered in frustration as she hung her head down, the black phallus of her gag pointing toward her sex.

The blonde lifted her head when she heard the door open. It was the man. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. He held a nasty-looking riding crop in one hand and the lunch that Mistress took away in the other.

“Heard you didn’t eat,” he said, looking at her.

Cassandra just hung her head down, her long blonde hair obscuring her face.

“I really don’t care if you eat or not. But, this I can promise you: if you eat something, then I can guarantee that you will spend the night with your fellow slave. Would you like that, number 2?”

Sandy looked up, a spark of hope lighting up her face. She nodded her head.

“Okay, slave, let’s get that gag out of your mouth and something in to your belly.”

Master undid the buckles to her gag and eased it from her mouth. Sandy licked her dry lips as the man placed the plate on her lap. Cassandra stared at the sandwich and chips; her stomach still queasy from her roiling emotions.

The man sat down beside her and offered her a sip of Coke. She took the straw in her mouth and took several long sips before he took it away. He offered her the sandwich next and she reluctantly took a bite. Sandy focused on seeing her twin sister again, forcing herself to swallow. Soon, she had eaten most everything on the plate.

“You see what you can do when you put your mind to it, slave,” Ray grinned, taking the plate away.

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” Sandy said.

The man’s smile dropped from his face, “What did you say, slave?”

“Nothing, Master,” she quietly answered.

“I see we’re going to have to gag you again. I had so many high hopes for you.”

“Please, no, Master.”

“Too late,” The man said before going over to the lone dresser and opening a drawer, grabbing a roll of duct tape.

“Now keep your trap shut or I’ll have to use that cattle prod on you. Understand, slave?”

Cassandra nodded her head. The man ripped a strip of tape off and pulled it over her lips, pressing down to make a good seal. He plastered 5 or 6 more pieces until he was satisfied that she couldn’t make much noise at all.

“Now that you’ve had lunch, I’m going to fuck you.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened and she squirmed again in her bonds. Deep down inside she had known that this was going to happen but she hadn’t resigned herself to it. As she tugged and bucked, she felt the rope going from her wrists to the ceiling become loose as he unwound the rope from a cleat on the wall.

With her cuffed wrists no longer being held up, the blonde struggled some more, thrashing on the bed. Her hands were still enwrapped in a pair of tight leather bags that kept her hands balled in a fist. She couldn’t grab hold of anything to help her escape.

The man grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back onto the bed, straddling her. A wicked smile spread over his face as she squirmed. He was enjoying this, forcing her down as she tried to fight him off.

Cassandra shrieked through her taped lips as Master pinched her left nipple hard, causing more tears to flow from her eyes.

“We can do this all day. I don’t mind it one bit. Or you can settle yourself down so I can do you right.”

Sandy stopped fighting and dissolved back into dried sobs. She couldn’t cry any more but that didn’t stop her body from trying. She willed her body to go limp.

“Are you done fussing, slave?”

The blonde gave a slight nod, her eyes closed.

Ray got off her and went over to the foot of the brass bed. He undid the rope holding her ankles before unfastening the ankle cuffs themselves. Pressing her left ankle against her left thigh, he tied the two together and cinched them tightly. He did the same with her right leg after getting a second coil of rope. Ray had always liked frogties. It allowed the slave to struggle a bit, yet kept them completely helpless and open.

He pulled off his jeans and boxers and laid them carefully on the dresser before pulling from his jeans pocket a foil-wrapped condom. He was fully erect and aching to put himself inside his captive. After rolling his condom down over his cock, he grabbed some more of the gel and massaged it into Sandy’s sex.

The erotic itchiness hadn’t gone away with her struggles. In fact, it continued to flare up more and more. Sandy opened her eyes when she felt him rub more of the gel around her puss. His tender rubbing of her clit sent a firestorm of pleasure rushing through her, making her arch herself to him and moan. He continued to stroke her slit, inflaming her desires.

He knelt on the bed and forced her knees apart, positioning himself above her. Slowly, he eased himself inside her, filling her completely. Hot vaporous waves rushed through her, building her ecstasy.

Cassandra bucked and churned beneath him, meeting his every stroke. His thrusts were the salve to her itch as her fervor swelled until it burst into a searing bliss, crashing inside her again and again even after he pulled himself out of her.

The waves of pleasure soon dissolved into pools of warmth. There was still the itch, but it was far in the background of her orgasm. She looked up at him through slitted eyes and hated him for making her feel this kind of pleasure. He was already out of her bed and pulling off his filled condom, his back towards her.

Ray held the deflated condom up before the girl’s face before turning it over and dribbling his jism over her face. She felt it run down over her forehead, nose and cheeks.

“Something to remember me by,” Ray said as he threw the empty condom away.

The blonde was trying to scream something at him, but he couldn’t make it out. He pulled his boxers and jeans back on before leaving her in her frogtie and cursing his name through her taped lips.


The smells of garlic and onions filled the kitchen as Ray opened the basement door. Janice was hovering over the stove, sautéing something wonderful. She was the better cook, making meals instinctively rather than following any set recipe. With the exception of a few ‘specialties’, Ray was lost without some sort of instructions.

He sat down at their cheap Formica table, a refugee from the sixties Ray guessed, and enjoyed the view of his wife. The jeans did wonders for her ass. A wave of guilt spilt over him and he wished sometimes he didn’t have to fuck the merchandise to get it ready for the clients. It strained Janice’s and his relationship. She told him she understood, but he knew that it wounded her as well. When they retired, he would make it up to her. Until then, they would have to survive the best they could.

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