Cassie strained against the clinging bondage tape that trapped her arms behind her back. It was so tight that her elbows were crushed together. It was more than she was used to, and her shoulders burned with cramp, but it was what she needed right now. She was helpless, absolutely at his mercy. She kept it foremost in her mind, determined not to let anything undermine the moment. She mustn’t think about the plan.
Gabe pushed her over onto the bed. She was kneeling, bum in the air. He slapped her raised behind, hard enough to really sting. Just as she’d hoped, his cock pushed against her pussy lips and she welcomed it inside.
His balls bumped against her clit and she gasped. He pumped again, taking her doggy-style.
“Yes. Harder. Deeper,” she said. She meant it.
He reached around and grabbed her breast, catching the nipple between his fingers, pinching it tight. “Do I need to gag you?”
She responded with a moan.
He said nothing more, pumped in and out like a maniac. She was so wet, loving it.
Hours later, after he’d released her, Cassie knelt at his feet and sucked him clean. It had almost become a ritual with them, the last thing before they finished up. He came in her mouth and she swallowed. There wasn’t much, he’d cum so many times already. Reluctantly, she let his softening cock slip from her mouth.
Now was the time to follow through her idea. Or she could hold off, wait for another week, or another month. No. Things were getting stale, time to do something. She glanced up at his glorious cock, still glistening wetly. Her thighs were cramping and she sat back, her bum between her feet. It would be so much easier if she could kneel on something to raise her up to the right height to give him oral, or if he wasn’t so tall.
She didn’t leave herself another chance to hesitate. She felt for the ribbon under the bed. Yes, it was there. She held it up, let him see what she’d found.
He stared back blankly.
She looped the ribbon around the base of his sack, pulling the first knot tight until there was no longer room for his balls, or even a single ball to slip through the noose. She glanced up, he was paying attention now, eyes wide.
“Hey, what’s that?” Gabe said.
“It’s a present. A reminder so you won’t forget that you belong to me,” she said.
She checked the tightness to be sure, then tied the second knot, then a little bow, which she knotted again.
“You’ve put a bow on me? On my balls?”
“I’ll know if you take it off. This kind of ribbon, it’s obvious if you retie it.”
He laughed and stepped back. “What do you mean? It’s kind of tight. What’s it for? Really?”
She rolled her eyes upwards to look at him, like she’d seen the girls in the pornos do it. He tugged at the ribbon, testing the tightness. She leaned forward and gave his balls a playful lick.
He gave a small chuckle and helped to her feet. It might have seemed gentlemanly if his gaze hadn’t followed her naked breasts. She pretended not to notice. “Please. Wear it until next weekend, so you’ll think of me all through the week.”
He smiled. “Are you so worried I’ll forget about you?”
He was joking of course, they trusted each other more than that. She was sure, wasn’t she? Sometimes, she had to remind herself that things were getting serious between them. Maybe one day soon he’d pop the question. Maybe. As long as she didn’t jinx it. She wasn’t jinxing it now was she?
She leaned in against him. His skin was slippery with sweat, his body hard with muscle. She was so soft, it was as if she was melting against his heat. “Of course not, but it’ll be fun if you play along right?”
He pulled at the ribbon, testing the tightness. “Alright. But if it starts to hurt I’ll take it off, ok?”
“Of course,” she said. “But at least give it a try. I’ll be so hot and bothered, thinking about you, wearing my bow while you’re sitting in the office, or talking on the phone. You won’t be able to forget that your cock and balls are only for me.”
He flushed. “Yeah. That is kind of a turn-on.”*
Cassie knew she’d done the right thing when he called her every day through the week. Usually, she was lucky to get a single mid-week call, unless his work was particularly dull, or they had planned to go to out on a weekday evening. This week, the calls went on longer each night, and by Wednesday they’d started to get dirty.
He’d begin with something like, “What are you wearing?”
She be in her dressing gown and fluffy socks, but she’d invent something to keep him interested. “I decided to try on that corset you got me tonight. It’s so tight, and I can hardly breathe. I wish you could see. My boobs are just popping out the top. It makes them look huge.”
“They are huge,” he’d answer.
He’d probably guessed that she was lying about the corset and didn’t puncture the fantasy by asking for a picture. It was just some fun. But by Friday, he was talking about all the positions he’d use, and he never mentioned the ribbon. Not once.
Saturday at lunch, Gabe bolted down his quinoa salad in such a hurry that he couldn’t have tasted it, or the spicy Asian dressing at all.
“Let’s go to your place. Now,” he said.
Cassie guessed what was on his mind. It was only a guess, but if only she could be right… A girl could dream couldn’t she? But if the nagging reminder of the ribbon had him on edge, it would be a mistake to seem too eager. It was a good thing that she’d thought this through or she’d have jumped at the chance.
She tried to sound surprised. “We haven’t had dessert yet. Besides, I thought we were going to see that movie, and then back to yours later.”
“No. Your place. Now.” His voice was a growl. She tensed, deep down in her belly. She bit her lip to suppress a gasp that came from nowhere. Half of it escaped anyway. He sounded… very … her mind struggled for a word. Commanding. That was exactly the word she was looking for.
“Ok.” Her words came out as a squeak, not how she’d planned at all. She’d thought she was prepared. Apparently, she needed more practice at keeping her poker face, but he didn’t seem to care.
He drove her home like his pants were on fire.
Her flat was a mess. She hadn’t expected to be there this weekend.
He was barely through the door when she came up with a stalling tactic.
“Can you get us some drinks or something?”
Without waiting to see if he agreed, she darted into her bedroom and dumped all the unsorted laundry into a basket. It wouldn’t fit. She tried to force the lid down, but the stuff kept on spilling out, towels, dresses, jeans, tops, underwear, more towels…
He pushed his way into the room, a glass in each hand. She looked up from the basket. Her face flushed red. “It’s a bit messy. I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
He stared at her, then downed his drink in one. “Here,” he said, passing the other to her.
She swallowed it back without thinking. The burning rush in her throat turned into a coughing fit. Neat gin. Triple at least.
She put the glass down. “That’s your idea of a drink?” Her voice was still croaky from the coughing.
He stepped closer, so he was almost touching. He took hold of her upper arms. “Who cares? My balls are blue as a smurf’s don’t-know-what. Let’s get to it.”
Her heart stuttered. He had her in the perfect grip for a deeply romantic kiss. She exhaled, trying to let herself relax. It didn’t work, she was still tense. A wave of dizziness came over her. She clung to him as her legs buckled.
He pulled her close and kissed her long and hard. His tongue between her lips. Her head span. She’d forgotten to breathe. Taking a gasp of air, she sank to her knees and started to unfasten his jeans. “Let me in, dammit,” she muttered.
“You can’t imagine what it’s been like,” he said. “You just don’t have the equipment.”
She pulled down his trousers and then his shorts. He was standing at attention, erect, hard in a way she’d never seen him before. His cock was like an iron bar.
The bow was still there, just as she’d left it.
“What do you mean? Just because I don’t have balls?” She looked up into his eyes and smiled. He’d kept it on for her. Just the idea of it made her feel all squooshy down there. Talk about equipment that he didn’t have. But he’d actually done it. And that big, straining cock… She couldn’t wait to get that monster inside her.
“It hurt some at first, and then I got used to the tightness. But you never get used to the feeling, the tension around your balls. It makes them stick out, and everything presses against them and reminds you.”
She lifted herself up a bit and slipped the tip inside her mouth. Soft and velvety, warm, hot even. It tasted of soap and sweat. She ought to ask him more questions, ought to make him wait. But he’d earned this, hadn’t he?
She lifted her head, ran her tongue over the tip of it, then looked up at him. “What does it remind you of?”
“That I let you put it on me. That I decided not to take it off. That it’s tight. It cuts into the skin. It snags my pubes.”
“That I really, really, really, want to fuck your brains out.”
She giggled. “What would I do without my brains?”
“A week without any relief. I’ve been saving myself up. You’ve got it coming to you.”
She giggled again. “Pun intended?”
He rucked up her dress, exposing her new underwear. “Enough talk.”
“Yes. Yes. I want it in me right now.”
He pushed her backwards and she bumped into the wall. His mouth was on hers as they slid to the floor. He didn’t bother to remove her panties, just pushed them aside. He didn’t even complain about missing out on his usual pre-sex blow-job. He just pushed it straight in without any warm up.
She was even wetter than usual, and it slid in effortlessly, painlessly, blissfully. His bound-up balls slapped against her. They were hot, burning up. He wasn’t really hurting was he? No. It was just her imagination, the heat was between them.
Then another thrust, and another. Which way was up? She was on the floor, legs in the air, but she felt like she was floating. She was tensing up, orgasm building already.
Then he came. The wet feeling of him spurting into her was unmistakable. He kept on pumping anyway. He didn’t stop, he didn’t even slow down. She wasn’t far behind him.*
Cassie was exhausted. It had been the most amazing sex of her life. They’d gone at it, off and on, until the small hours of Monday morning. By the end they were both exhausted and Gabe was taking it slow and gentle. She’d removed the bow by then of course. He’d said he couldn’t cum properly with it on, and it hurt when he did.
Before he left, she tied on a fresh ribbon. She’d been sure he’d complain, to say once was enough, but he didn’t. Afterwards, his balls stuck out, the sack pulled tight, two hairy chestnuts. It looked uncomfortable. He acted as if she hadn’t done anything, didn’t make any comment at all. Would it be possible to repeat the week’s experience again?
He called her on Tuesday night and went straight into the phone sex. Even though it was just talk she was wet by the end of it. She turned off the light and tried to sleep.
She was so tired after he hung up, but she still couldn’t seem to get comfortable. The harder she tried to sleep the more restless she got. The glowing numbers of the clock read half-past twelve. The alarm would go off at six. She’d be tired and cranky in the morning, driving like a zombie.
The image of the red ribbon around his balls was back in her mind again. She reached down and touched herself. She was still sore from the intense weekend, but even so she was wet. A little rub wouldn’t do any harm.
They’d talked for two hours about nothing but sex, and now she couldn’t get it out of her head. It was a safe bet he hadn’t masturbated. That was his decision, and she’d never asked him to hold off. There was no reason to feel guilty about doing it herself. There was nothing stopping him doing the same.
She slipped a finger inside and rubbed her clit with the side of her hand. Her juices really started to flow. She should have put something down in the bed to catch it. Too late for that, she couldn’t stop now. She moved her other hand to a nipple and began to tease. She relaxed into the warm, floaty feeling. He’d decided not to masturbate for a whole week. Why had he done that? Was he trying to tell her something? Or telling her something without realizing it?
What if she hadn’t been able to rub herself like she was doing now? What if she’d been stopped? How much more would she want it then? How crazy would it be making her?
The things he’d been talking about tonight were kinkier than usual. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t mind that. Yes, if she was honest, she liked it. She liked it a lot, when he talked about her in sexy clothes, high-heels, open-crotch, corset, spandex, rubber, he’d mentioned them all. He’d encouraged her to take the initiative, had admitted he liked that sometimes.
Was he talking about the ribbon?
She closed her eyes. She’d been right. It wasn’t enough to go on as they were. She needed to take things further. He had to be telling her what he wanted. Not just fantasies, but more.*
Wednesday night, Gabe called at ten.
Cassie was still sleep deprived, not in the mood. “I didn’t get much rest last night. I need to get to bed early.”
“Me too,” he said. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t sleep without talking to you. I can’t sleep if I do talk to you. I’m going mental.”
She could guess why, but he deserved to be put on the spot. “Why?”
“You know damn well why.”
“Really?” She put on her most fake surprised voice.
“Alright. It’s the ribbon. It hurts to cum with this thing on, and well…” He hesitated. An empty silence came from the phone. It was as if the call had dropped. “But… I don’t want to waste a drop. I want to save it all for you.”
She laughed. “That’s sweet. You really mean that?”
“I wish you could feel what it’s like.”
“I wish you knew how it felt when you say things like that to me. You could really get a girl thinking that you love her. Messing with my head that way, it’s just not fair.”
“I wish I was there with you now. I can see it. You’re in that metallic blue rubber cat-suit. The zip down the front, pulled down to show your cleavage, open at the crotch to show your mound, smooth and hairless. Your waist is incredible in the corset.”
She picked up the phone. “Smooth and hairless? You want me to shave my pussy now?” The idea was intriguing.
“You press yourself against me and whisper a question. ‘Do you want this?’ you say. I can’t breathe, can’t answer.”
He’d avoided answering her question about shaving. Maybe he was regretting saying it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want it.
“I don’t think you deserve me. We need to lock that thing up until you’ve learned your place, until you’ve learned sex is a privilege that you earn, not a right.”
His breath caught, audible over the phone. Yes, she was right.
“But how can you trust me? Men lust after anything, don’t they?”
She didn’t really think that. Sure, men in general, but he was different, wasn’t he? But it fit with where she’d guessed he was heading. If he was going there on his own it made it easier.
She took several deep breaths, calming herself before bringing the phone close enough for him to hear her speaking. “I think we need to keep that naughty little thing of yours firmly under my control, don’t we? It’s only for me, after all. I don’t want anyone else getting to it. Some of those sluts, they make it so easy.”
“Yes. That’s probably for the best.” His voice was a croak.
“I’m wearing my pretty metallic blue cat-suit, with the corset, and the boots with the high, high-heels. I press myself against you. I’m really warm. I push you down onto your knees.”
“I let you push me down. I look up at you, then back down at your crotch, then up at your face again. You can hear my breathing is coming fast.”
She could hear it, he wasn’t joking. That part was real.
“It’s enough for you to use your mouth for now, to taste how sweet I am, how wet I am, at the thought of your tongue going to work on me.”
“I lick my lips at the thought of tasting you,” he said.
“Put your hands behind your back. I don’t want you touching me with them. Hold your wrists together.”
“I do as you tell me.”
“I cuff your hands behind you.”
“I don’t resist. I’m like putty in your hands. I’m on my knees, at your mercy.”
“I pull your face into my crotch. It’s sopping wet, hot and it stinks of sex. I tell you to make me cum.”
“I lick up every trace of your wetness from your lips before starting on your clit. I’m breathing really fast. My breath is hot on your lips, on your clit.”
“I pull you in harder, arching against you.”
“I dip my tongue inside you, tasting your nectar. I press my mouth over your clit, kissing it, rubbing hard with my tongue. I’m dizzy, wobbling, only your grip on my head is holding me up. My cock is hard, straining, aching for you.”
“But you’re handcuffed, on your knees, the ribbon is tight around your balls. You’re aching but you can only think of pleasing me, that’s all you can do.”
“I worship your clit and pussy with my tongue. I don’t slow down or stop. I keep on at it.”
“I push you over backwards, so that you’re lying back but still kneeling, your legs doubled up under you. I kneel over your mouth. You’re pinned under my weight, wrists cuffed, lost in the dark and the smell of me. My juices run all over your face. You can feel how hot I am for you.”
“I lick and suck more eagerly, more hungrily than ever, my cock standing up straight, painfully engorged. You can feel my writhing under you, my chest heaving.”
“I slide back onto your big, hard cock and slip it inside me. After a few pumps, I cum like an earthquake.”
The call dropped. Her phone flashed up a picture of an empty battery and then shut down.
“No,” she said. “No, no, no.” She wanted to swear but she stopped herself. Of all the lousy times to forget to put her phone on charge, this was it.
She reached for the charging cable she kept by the side of the bed and plugged it in. He’d really got her worked up this time. What was it like for him? Things were moving too fast. She glanced at the screen. It was still showing the empty battery icon, not ready to take calls.
She slumped onto the bed. Sat up again. Relaxing was impossible. Damn him. Damn him. What would it be like to do that stuff for real? She still had the metallic blue cat-suit hidden somewhere in the back of a drawer. She hadn’t worn it much. Had he been thinking about it when he gave her the corset? She’d never planned to wear that. It was stupid and uncomfortable.
No, that wasn’t true. It embraced her with a firm and unexpectedly reassuring hug, but it was difficult to put on. The inflexible way it held her was unfamiliar. After a while, her ribs had started to ache. It had been pleasant at first, but it had become a nuisance as soon as the novelty wore off.
Her phone rang. It must have powered up while she was thinking. The charging cord was too short so she hung off the side of the bed, bum in the air.
“Hello,” she said.
“Phone went flat.”
“I was so worked up, I almost jumped in the car and drove over.”
“Good thing you didn’t. I wouldn’t have let you in. I won’t see you until Saturday, and then…” She needed a way to delay things, to frustrate him. “Then, we need to go somewhere fancy for lunch. A long lunch. Then we’ll come back to my place. The longer you have to wait, the better it will be.”
“Goddam, you’re harsh.”
“I’m doing this for you. Think about it. Afterwards we can get dressed up, do some kinky stuff. Until then, no more phone calls. You’re getting me worked up too. I’ll be worn out by the weekend if it goes on like this. If anything special comes to mind, write it down. Put it in an email. Ok?”
“See you Saturday, and keep thinking of me.”
“Love you,” he said.
She ended the call.
Her underwear was soaked and her nipples ached for attention. She gave a long sigh. One hand reached for her breast, the other slipped down inside her tracksuit pants. She changed her mind. She’d begin with both boobs at once and then work downwards.
Tomorrow, she’d have to take an afternoon off work to shop for all the things she needed.*
Saturday afternoon, Cassie unlocked the door to her flat. Gabe pressed up behind her.
“Hey, get off me. You need to keep it in your pants.”
“I’ve been doing that all week. I’m going nuts. Serious blue balls.”
“They’ll stay that way unless you back off.” She ushered him inside. “You need to follow the rules like a good boy or we can’t play.”
He groaned. The pouting expression on his face suited him. “Don’t worry. You can have it all your way. If it’s anything like what we talked about, it’ll be worth it. I just want to…”
She smiled. “Never mind. Just do as I say. Get undressed. Everything, except the ribbon. Stand in the middle of the floor and wait for me. I might be some time, but I’ll be checking to make sure you’re doing as you’re told.”
He turned his head so she couldn’t see his expression properly, looked sideways at her. “Whatever you say.”
“Exactly. And don’t forget, I’ll be watching.”
She went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her, leaving it open a crack. The bedroom light was off, curtains drawn. He wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing. She positioned herself to look through the crack. Yes. He was getting undressed. He looked good, firm and muscular, chest broad. Part of her just wanted to melt into those strong arms. Part of her. Another part wanted something … more.
She closed the ensuite door quietly, so he wouldn’t know she wasn’t watching. She had her favorite dress on for the restaurant, high-necked, ribbed, grey jersey. She hitched it up and peeled it over her head. It had been a wonderful lunch, he’d spared no expense, but she hadn’t eaten much. No good being too full to enjoy what was coming afterwards.
She dropped the dress into the laundry basket, and her underwear followed. She glanced across at the rubber cat-suit on its hanger. She’d polished it so it shone. She had to make the right impression. It was a pain to get on, especially the arms. She pumped a handful of water-based lube into her hand and smeared it over her legs.
The suit pulled up easily, more easily than with talc. She didn’t really need the lube on her hips and bottom but she spread it there anyway, taking particular pains to smear it over her bum cheeks. She smiled to herself and pumped another big handful.
The lube was cold but it felt amazing on her breasts. She hefted each one. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she paused to pull faces, a smile, a pout, selfie-duck-face. Her hands were wet with the lube and they slipped into the thin disposable rubber gloves with uncanny ease.
With the lube covering her whole body, she had no trouble settling the suit into place. Even the rubber sleeves were no trouble at all, no nasty hair-pulling, no messy creases. She should have done it this way before.
She pinched her nipples until they perked up, then snapped a tight rubber o-ring around each one. She paused to savor the sensation, already horny as hell. Chewing the oily taste of lipstick, she adjusted the zip. Ok. Easy part over, now she had to get the corset on.
She’d threaded the laces, all she had to do was pull the busk closed. Simple in theory, but the stiff metal hooks didn’t want to engage one at a time, they were all or nothing. By the time closed it, she was sweating with exertion and suit was sticky and slippery against her skin. The sweat trickled off her forehead into her eyes and made them sting. Hardly sexy.
She reached behind her and pulled the laces tighter. The snug feeling around her middle intensified. Looking down, her hips seemed massive compared to her minimized waist. The corset was a name brand, soft black leather on the outside, plain cotton lining on the inside.
The busk and boning were spring steel, but she couldn’t really feel it, just the firm grip of the thing, the stiffness, locking her hips to her chest. Underwired cups at the front lifted and squeezed her breasts into a deep cleavage. The material was thinner there, and her tortured nipples were pressed hard against the thin layer, erect and tantalizingly visible. The rubber rings made them extra sensitive.
She imagined herself bound in thick white ropes, helpless, struggling for release in maddening frustration. No. That wasn’t how it was going to be. Maybe another day she’d be in that position, but not today. But what would it be like?
She pulled on the matching, metallic blue, high-heeled boots and zipped them up to just below her knees. Her heels clattered on the tiles. Too noisy. It would spoil the effect if he heard her moving about getting ready.
After creeping back into the bedroom she checked the view through the crack in the door. His cock was at attention, so engorged that it seemed to be straining to be unleashed, though there was nothing holding it back but his will.
Was it her imagination, or was it even bigger than before? The skin was drawn back from the head, tight, like there wasn’t enough of it to cover so much cock. He was standing in the middle of the room, naked apart from the ribbon tied around his balls. They thrust outwards, dark with blood, almost as prominent as the cock above them. It looked painful, but he’d endured it for two weeks without complaining. Even if it hurt a bit, he must be used to it by now.
He looked bored, but he couldn’t really be disinterested with an erection like that, could he? No way. She snuck back into the bathroom. She needed to do her makeup, had to make the right impression when he saw her.
She pulled off the disposable gloves, she’d only put them on to stop getting handprints on the suit. She could wash her hands now, the lube dissolving like soap.
Taking her time, she cleaned her face and did her makeup from scratch, but this time bigger and bolder, complete with big false eyelashes, a look for the bedroom, not the restaurant. As always the face in the mirror started to look like somebody else. It was like putting on a mask, a face she could hide behind.
She left the bathroom, not with caution, but with a confident stride. That was the plan. The first couple of steps were awkward and then she settled into the rhythm demanded by the heels. She threw open the bedroom door and let him see her, framed in the doorway. With him in bare feet, she could look him straight in the eye.
Inside, her heart was making her chest tight, her lungs couldn’t get any air and the corset was making her ribs ache. She put on the smile she’d rehearsed a minute ago and strode into the room. Pressing her hand against his pec-muscle, the heat of his reassuringly solid flesh lifted her spirits.
“Wow,” he said.
“Thanks, but be a good boy and don’t speak unless I tell you.” She smiled again, big and bold. It was a struggle not to laugh through so much cheese, but she was doing it for him. He better appreciate the effort.
He flushed red. She drew her fingers down his chest, counting rib after rib, until the tips were resting on his six-pack. What a body, and oh, that cock. It would feel so good inside her. It was hard not to rush. So hard. If she wasn’t careful, she’d crack and ruin everything.
“I love the feel of your skin, but it could be smoother. You need to get that chest hair waxed off before we do this again.” She made her voice hard, with an edge of disappointment and entitlement.
He blinked and his face turned a deeper shade of red.
“I think if you’d pop with a touch, if I put my fingers in the right place. That’s no good. You need to hold it in. Anyway…” She took her hand away and moved a couple of steps back. “I love that chest of yours, but I’m going to have to cover it up. I’ve got something for you to wear too.”
His eyes darted side to side, as if searching for whatever it was. Of course it wasn’t there. He didn’t move his head.
She stepped back into the bedroom and unhooked the hanger from the back of the door. She held it up for him to see.
“Pretty isn’t it? Black leather, really soft. It’s just your size. At least, it better be. Do you like it?”
“Yes. But a jacket?”
“The sleeves zip closed, and the straps buckle your arms in place.”
His gazed tracked down to the straps dangling from the bottom of it.
She brushed them with her hand. “Oh these? They go between your legs. I think they’re narrow enough that they’ll go either side of your balls.”
She’d imagined what it would be like to wear the jacket herself. She’d tried it on, but even with the crotch straps tight, it hung loose on her. But what if it were her size? What if she was trapped inside, the straps digging into her aching sex? It was all she could do not to chew the lipstick off her bottom lip again.
She shook her head, trying to throw the thoughts from her mind. She had to make this work, for both of them. Today was his turn on the bottom. If she did a lousy job at playing the mistress his fun would be spoiled. She’d feel gutted if he played the half-hearted master. She hated it when he made it too much like a game. She couldn’t keep her mind in the right space if he let the truth show through.
She helped him into the jacket, and he cooperated, as if she were helping him try something on in a shop. The sleeves were tight on his muscular arms. If he took a deep breath, the leather stretched tight over his chest.
His hands were still free, the zips that went from the wrist to the end of the mitts still open. She fed the crotch straps through his legs and let him buckle them up himself, checking the tension afterwards.
“Good boy.” She pressed her breasts against his back. Could he feel how hard her trapped nipples were through the two layers of leather? “Now bring your hands inside and I’ll zip you up.”
Reaching round from behind, she closed the heavy zip on his left hand, the leather of the sleeve tightened around his wrist, trapping his hand in the padded mitt. A d-ring and a strap dangled from the end of it. She zipped up the other hand.
“Give yourself a hug.”
She hardly had the first word out before he wrapped his arms around himself. Telling him was just part of the performance. She tightened the straps through the buckles, securing one arm and then the other. There were more straps on the front that went vertically, positioning his arms and limiting his movements in a different direction.
She checked the crotch straps again. They were tighter than at the start, digging into the soft flesh either side of his balls. She didn’t slacken them. Maybe later.
She felt a rush of strength, of power. He was stuck. There was really no way out of the jacket without her help. It was true bondage and there was no way he could remove it by himself, despite his strength. His hands were useless, trapped in padded mitts and strapped to his sides. His arms had no leverage. She could do whatever she wanted with him, and it was too late for him to complain.
She pulled up the built-in posture collar and buckled it at the front. There were three straps, and with the top one in place the collar had a solid grip around his neck. His chin was forced up and he couldn’t turn his head. If he wanted to speak, or open his mouth, he’d have to tip his head back.
“Sit down there.” She looked towards the sofa. “I know you’re bursting, but you have to wait. You don’t mind waiting do you?”
“Of course I do.” He didn’t move. Instead he grinned like a naughty child.
“Of course, Mistress,” he said, correcting himself.
She gave his buttock a firm slap. Like hitting a lump of wood, it made her hand ache. She hid it behind her back, rubbing it to relieve the discomfort when he wasn’t looking. She ought to get a paddle. “That’s better. Behave yourself or you’ll be waiting a lot longer.”
He let himself drop down into the soft embrace of the sofa, and with some wriggling settled himself into what she guessed was a comfortable sitting position.
She went back into the bedroom and came back out with the boots. She held them up in front of him, letting him take in what she had in mind. Black, patent leather ballet boots, man-sized. Two straps buckled and locked at the ankle. There were sturdy d-rings on the inside and outside of the ankles, so they could be chained together, or apart. But no chain would be necessary. With the en-pointe toes and eight-inch spike heels he would be struggling to stand, let alone walk. These boots wouldn’t lift him up, they’d put him on his knees and keep him there.
He held out his bare foot so she could slip the boot on. They didn’t want to go. She could have sworn she got the right size. She put her back into it and crushed his foot into place. Once it was on, the straps did up easily. They were the right size after all. Probably.
She didn’t need the padlocks. He couldn’t undo the buckles, but she locked them on anyway, to enhance the effect.
After the experience of the first foot, the second was much easier. At last, she really had him in her power. Before he could have bowled her over with his weight. Now, he wouldn’t be making any sudden moves.
She could take it further. She had the toys, but it wasn’t the time. She might have gone too far already. No. The look on his face said she’d made the right decisions. Still, one more thing before the fun started.
She fetched a double-ended dog-lead clip from the bedroom and fastened his ankles close together. A child could unclip it, but he couldn’t, not without his hands. Another rush of power hit her, like a punch in the gut, it made her gasp with the intensity of it. She had to turn away so he couldn’t see. Her belly muscles tensed up, crunched against the restraining corset. She didn’t want to let go and take a breath. It felt like she was about to cum and they hadn’t even started.
She reached up and touched his balls. The package felt hot and solid, the sack stretched out by the binding.
“I wonder if you keep on like this your ball sack will stretch. What do you think?”
He tipped his head back. “I flippin’ hope not.” He couldn’t look her in the eye and speak at the same time because of the collar.
“You forgot the magic word again. Am I going to have to teach you a lesson? Keep you waiting even longer?”
“At this rate, you won’t get to cum ‘til tomorrow. That’d be a shame.”
His face reddened again. Maybe she really shouldn’t let him cum until tomorrow? No. He might be excited about the idea now, but there was no point in pushing her luck. He wasn’t used to playing the sub yet. He hadn’t learned to pace his expectations. She’d have to ease him in gently.
She reached between her legs and found the zip-tag, just above her bum-hole, pulled it open to just above her crotch. He watched her action, rapt. The suit spilled open, showing her recently waxed pussy. Her dripping stickiness was all over the zip. It had been seeping out of her and pooling in the crotch of the suit. Freed, it trickled down the inside of her thighs. The smell of her sex came thick and heavy.
“What are you waiting for,” she said. “Get your face in here and show me how much you want that ribbon off.”*
Several hours later Cassie lay next to Gabe in bed, worrying. If only she had more options. She didn’t have all the things she needed, inflatable mittens, leather harness, rubber hood with only a mouth opening, ring-gag, probably there were other things she wanted too. She needed to relax and stick to her original plan.
She’d removed the ribbon and slacked off the collar, but the rest of his bondage was still in place. She was still in charge. Should she let him out, maybe swap roles? It was intoxicating to hold the power, but it was predictable, a weight on her shoulders. She was the one responsible, if it wasn’t fun she was to blame, and the only surprises for her would be bad ones.
He wasn’t allowed to tell her what he wanted, so she had to read his mind, figure things out from the slightest of hints. Often, there were signs she could read, but other times, there was nothing to go on, or worse, conflicting indications. Maybe he wasn’t into it after all and he was just playing along for her sake? Her confidence wasn’t strong enough to survive a string of bad calls. She daren’t overreach.
For now, he seemed prepared to endure the bondage, but for how much longer? It was such a drain being on top, especially now that the initial rush had faded. Endure the bondage? No. More like he was enjoying it. So far.
She unbuckled the left arm of his jacket and straightened it out.
He lifted his head to look at her, eyes bleary with sleep. “Wha…?”
She put a finger to her lips, “Shush. No talking ‘til tomorrow. You can’t sleep like this. You’d wake up full of cramps and be no use to anyone. Going to make you a little more comfortable.”
He flexed his arm, stretching it out and rolling his shoulder. His head dropped back onto the pillow. Maybe she could do the collar up again? That would be fine. She padlocked the ring on the end of the mitt to a d-ring low down on the front of the jacket. Then she repeated the process with the other arm, unbuckling it and locking the mitt to the front of the jacket. He had a lot more movement in his shoulders but he was still basically helpless. It would do.
She lay back down beside him. He turned to look at her, rolled his shoulders shook his hands against the rings and gave half a smile.
She rolled onto her side, looking back. “I was dreaming about keeping you as my gimp. Ever increasing bondage. Heavy rubber suit, gagged, hooded with no eye-holes, strict chastity, with one of those heavy stainless steel belts.”
She slid her hand down his front to find his cock. It was hard again, hot, throbbing with the beating of his heart. “Oh. You like that idea?”
“Who wouldn’t? With you as a mistress?” He grinned wolfishly, not even remotely submissive.
“I could dress you up as my rubber-maid, put your cock and balls out on display with you in a skirt.”
He gave a sniff. It wasn’t exactly derision, just really close.
She fondled his balls. “I hope you’re good and horny. No relief for you until tomorrow.”
In truth her pussy couldn’t take another fucking right away. She needed a break or she’d be walking bow-legged.
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story continues in Pretenders 2