Part 4: Bend and Stretch
“Mom, it looks like so much fun, so Renee and I wondered; would it if be alright if we got tied up?”
The girls had wanted bondage; they were getting it in spades. My mind was still a bit fuzzy, but I had a perfect view of all the activities going on in the room, as I was standing, strung up and eagle-spread, to the two massive posts at the foot of the bed, facing the mattress and the rest of the suite. It was uncomfortable, of course, but the women had it worse.
Renee was stretched tight on the bed in front of me. Her bondage had started with her lying face down on bed, head at the bottom, near me. Her legs were held wide apart with ankle cuffs on a long spreader bar, which was connected back to the headboard. Her arms were secured behind her in a brutally tight leather armbinder, her elbows and palms touching under the material. That binder was also pulled back hard and tied to the center of the headboard, so she was in a face-up back arch.
To keep Renee in this position and to prevent her from slipping back to ease the strain, the shoulder straps of the armbinder were connected to cords that led to the tops of the posts that I hung from, at the bottom of the bed. Her face was in my crotch, but a leather muzzle with a penis gag insert blocked her access to my penis. She was looking up at me in distress, but there was nothing I could do.
I looked over into the room and Ashley was in an even more stringent back-bending bondage, all in white rope. It had started with her kneeling, knees apart, on a large, solid bench, her calves and ankles firmly attached to the top of it, her toes just off one of the edges. Her wrists had been secured behind her back and the rope attached to them was then led down between her knees, dragged and attached to the side of the bench that was opposite her feet. Thus, it forced her to bend all the way back so that her head was upside down between her feet, hanging off the edge of the bench. A rope tied around her waist and looped under her ass crack and splitting her crotch was connected to a hook in the ceiling, keeping her locked in a grueling arched hogtie.
Both naked except for their panties, the twins were an amazing sight; strong, lean muscles trembling under tanned skin by the light of the fireplace, glistening with sweat in the warm summer night air. They were each writhing and moaning softly, showing me that, despite being young athletes in top physical condition, they were struggling in their predicaments.
In another section of the room, my 32-year-old girlfriend Bettie wasn’t having it any easier than the 18-year-olds. She stood with her upper torso wrapped with a harness of red ropes that dug into her flesh pinning her upper arms and squeezing her breasts. Her wrists were pulled up behind her shoulder blades in a wicked reverse prayer position. A collar around her neck was tied to the ceiling and she was standing on her tip-toes, locked into high ballet boots, struggling to keep from falling or choking.
That stance was made more difficult by the two-foot spreader bar on her ankles that kept her legs apart. From the middle of that horizontal bar rose another one, coming up to her crotch where it was topped by a huge black electric dildo, which (of course) was embedded deep inside her moist pussy. Each time she moved or shifted her weight to keep her balance, the dildo would move inside her, with alternating shocks and vibrations, sending her into shuddering bouts of orgasms. She wore no clothing other than a ball gag, some torn stockings and boots. Her face and body were shiny with perspiration, her breasts soaking wet from the drool oozing around her gag.
And Page? Well, she was tied up with her own affairs, as it were.
She was on her feet, but leaning forward; her weight was supported and she was kept in place in a body harness that was connected to a hook in the ceiling. Cuffs on her wrists and ankles were not attached to anything at the moment, as that would have impeded her efforts to satisfy the cocks of the five men gathered all around her in an astounding gang-bang scene.
One man was lying on his back under her, on a reclining bench, his cock deep in her pussy. Another man was behind her fucking her ass, clutching her harness while he pumped. Another man was standing in front of her, getting sucked off. The other two were standing out to her right and left sides, and she was pumping their cocks with her hands.
What the fuck? Men? Gang-bang? I shook my dizzy head, trying to remember what the hell had happened to my nice, cozy little four-woman harem. Maybe I got smacked on the head when a group of intruders burst into the room and took us all captive. Four of us were already secured at the time, as I think the raid came shortly after Page had tied the girls’ hand behind their backs to test their affinity to bondage.
Most of the invaders were henchmen dressed in black, all fit and dangerous-looking. From their appearance and speech, I thought that they were from the UK and maybe all related. They moved with speed and precision, overwhelming us and expertly binding us into our current dilemmas.
Their leader was… The Woman.
She gave orders to her crew in what sounded Gaelic. They called her Siobahn (pronounced sha-VAWN). Stunning in her beauty, lithe in her movements, powerful in her dominance. She was tall, perhaps five foot-nine, her skin fair but not pale, her red hair trim and well-cut. Her body was damn near perfect; well-muscled arms, legs and belly (but not un-femininely so), shapely hips and butt, and a great set of firm double-D or maybe size E breasts. I could tell all that because all she wore (other than a shoulder holster and pistol) were sneakers, form-fitting yoga pants and a tight little crop-top halter. It was all in gray, perfect for easy body mobility and well-suited to the summer heat. She wore little makeup, but you could lose yourself in her green, mesmerizing eyes and those full, luscious lips.
Those same lips bore a devilish smirk as she scanned the fantastic display she had engineered; Page being ravaged to insanity, the girls in back-breaking predicament bondage, Bettie struggling to stay upright with a pole in her pussy. Siobahn’s gaze lingered a bit on my erect cock, which was rubbing against Renee’s face as we both squirmed in our bondage. Our eyes met for a moment, she raised an eyebrow, and I knew that she was a force of nature not to be crossed, be it in a back alley, a battlefield, or a bedroom.
She called out in English, “No one will be hurt, not seriously, as long as you do what we say. No heroics. No resistance. No attempts to escape.” And to her men, “And NO fucking the young girls!” Sounded like “fooking” with her Scottish brogue. Satisfied with the scene around her, she whispered into a Bluetooth microphone in her ear.
A huge bodyguard came in, a bald Slavic man, and checked the scene. A few seconds later, in strode a distinguished, but cruel-looking middle-aged man. Tall, tan, thin but fit, with perfect silver hair and goatee. Impeccably dressed, his tailored suit probably cost more than my car. He glanced at me, did the same with Bettie, and strolled past us, not terribly interested. He strolled in like he owned the place, and if this was the man I thought he was, he kinda did.
He stood over Renee and slowly scrutinized every inch of her nearly-naked, straining body with his dark eyes. When he finally reached out, it was to gently stroke the back of her hair, his eyes softening a bit as he looked into her eyes and whispered something in a foreign tongue. He turned to Ashley and inspected her as well, then lovingly petted her cheek. I think I was more alarmed by his creepy and gentle reaction to the suffering girls than if he had slapped or groped them.
He then turned to Page. The henchmen violating her from every angle had (bizarrely, I thought) continued their actions quietly during the preceding scene. As the tall man approached, he cleared his throat and waved them away. They zipped up their pants, clipped her wrist cuffs together behind her back and stepped aside as he approached. “Hello, sweetheart,” he whispered in good but accented English. “It has been a long, long time.”
She was hanging, exhausted and limp in her suspension bondage, and looked up at his face. She was a mess. Her hands were greasy from lubrication and ejaculate. Her pussy and ass oozed the same. Her face was coated in a slimy mixture of saliva, sweat, snot and semen, yet she managed to struggle upright and give a weak, weary smile. “Hello, Sergei,” she softly croaked, her voice raspy from the throat-fucking she had endured. "Eighteen years. Not long enough. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“You know the answer to that, darling,” he replied. “Did you think the millions of dollars I spent on you and the girls, so that you could live here in luxury… did you think that debt would not come due?”
“I didn’t think you would actually come back,” she replied. “To steal your children. You fucker.” He slapped the helpless woman at that. She slumped again in her bondage.
So, this is Sergei, I thought. Page had told me years ago that the father of the twins was a foreigner who fled the country shortly after their birth, one step ahead of the FBI who suspected him of international smuggling and fencing. He disappeared into the European underworld, but obviously had continued plying his trade and managed to send funds to Page over the years, including money for the luxurious house we were in. So, Page was his ex, and Ashley and Renee were his daughters. Nice family reunion.
Sergei turned to Siobahn and asked, “Are all the arrangements made? The transportation set?”
“The truck will be here first thing in the morning,” she replied. “This house is somewhat distant from the neighbors, but to be safe, it will appear to be delivering and picking up furniture. The captives will be hidden inside the false furniture. Then it will take us all to the private airfield where the plane will be waiting.”
“So, we have several hours to kill, until morning,” Sergei mused. “As much as I appreciate the stunning scene you arranged for me here, we will need to adjust the bondages to something less severe. We do NOT want to inflict permanent damage on these people. Well, not on the girls. They’re the whole reason we’re here. The others… we’ll see.”
Before they released me and the girls, Sergei ordered Page and Bettie to be cleaned up, so the henchmen untied them and took them into the bathroom. I presume they alternated washing and molesting the women while in there.
Meanwhile, Sergei wanted to see if the twins could concentrate on performing fellatio while in their stressful positions. Renee’s gag was removed, and, with the crack of Siobahn’s baton on her ass to make her focus, started in energetically on my shaft. One of the henchmen started fingering Renee’s pussy and nipples, while Siobahn stepped up to Ashley and did the same. Sergei’s bodyguard unzipped his pants and put his sizable cock into Ashley’s upside-down mouth, pushing deep at times. She licked and sucked and deep-throated the best she could.
Sergei walked over to the bed. “So, tell me, Mister Quinn, are my girls good at pleasuring a man?”
Picking my words carefully, I told him that they were new to the whole thing, but were intelligent and fast learners. He nodded and asked, “Which one is better, do you think?”
I started saying that they were equal, but his glare told me that’s not what he wanted to hear. So, I carefully told him that while their skills were similar, Ashley seemed to approach sex mostly from a warm instinct to please another, while Renee seemed to enjoy the control and the adventure of the act.
Sergei chuckled. “Renee is the oldest, by a few minutes. And she knows it. Perhaps she is the dominant one. How about it, Renee? Would you like to tie up your sister and make her lick your pussy? For hours? I can arrange that.” Renee pulled her mouth away from my cock long enough to reply, “Yes, sir. I mean yes, father, whatever you want.” Then she resumed attacking my member. Sergei burst out laughing. “You were right, Mister Quinn. They are fast learners!”
He then whispered to me, “Man-to-man now; have you ever made love to a warrior woman? I see how Siobahn looks at you. If she wants you, jump at the opportunity. She is not my woman, but we have spent a handful of nights together over the years, mostly to seal contracts and to celebrate successes. She is wonderful. Flexible. Insatiable.”
Soon, under Siobahn’s supervision, we were all released from our torturous bondages, cleaned up a bit, and our hands were shackled behind our backs. The girls were still in their panties, but otherwise we were all naked. While we were given time to recover, Siobahn and Sergei told us what had led to this kidnapping and what was going to happen. Sergei worked for a massively powerful European crime boss, an older man whose sexual desires tended to young, kidnapped women from around the world.
“Over the years," Sergei explained, “The Boss has been given many young women, but they have been one of two types; either frightened, inexperienced girls who needed to be beaten or drugged to perform, or tattooed, plastic sluts who have already shown their wares on the internet and have fucked a dozen boys. Many disappointments. But, imagine when I give him two naturally beautiful American girls who have never had a man between their legs, but yet love to parade around in lingerie, be tied up, and know how to suck cock! And, who are my own daughters!
“And to sweeten the prize, their own beautiful mother will oversee their further training and serve as a hostage for their good behavior. The Boss will have weeks of enjoyment, fucking them all and making them do many perverted things with each other. In gratitude, he will make me his chief deputy, and perhaps, his successor.”
Over the last few years, Sergei had secretly communicated with Page and pressured her into keeping Ashley and Renee un-deflowered, bugging the house with secret cameras to make sure they remained that way. Sergei had been watching as this past week, as Page steered us all into this weekend escapade so the twins could shed their inhibitions and learn how to please an older man. The girls were easy enough to influence in this direction, Sergei said, being horny and daring, just like their mother.
Sergei hired Siobahn, an independent Scottish mercenary and smuggler, to sneak him into the country, along with her crew (all of them her brothers and cousins). They had plenty of experience moving people and contraband across the Atlantic. And apparently expertise at depraved bondage and molestation as well.
After our respite, Bettie, Page and the girls were all placed on their knees in the middle of the room, lit only by the golden glow of the fireplace. Heavy belts were wrapped tightly around their waists. Unusual-looking leather harnesses were secured on their heads and necks. The women's wrists were secured to the front of the collars, so their hands were locked near their mouths.
Four of Siobahn’s cousins took their places lying underneath the crotches of the women. For the young twins, the men had the girls sit on their faces while they ate them out. For Bettie and Page, they made the women ride their cocks. All four used the belts to hold the females in place. Four other men stood in front of the women, and, clutching the head harnesses, made the ladies give them slow and sloppy blowjobs and handjobs. Sergei slowly walked around the group, surveying the activity, and cracked a riding crop on the back of any female who he felt was not giving maximum effort.
As for me, Siobahn had injected my cock with a concoction that made it swell. While it was growing to full size, she fitted my crotch with a devilish device; part of it fit deep into my asshole, another part cupped my balls firmly, and a third part served as a cock-ring. She put me on my back on the bed, my bound arms and legs pulled tight towards the headboard and baseboard. The room partition had been rolled closed to give us a little privacy, visually at least, from the group outside.
She peeled off her tights and panties, and stripped off her crop-top, displaying her firm breasts and bald pussy. She retained the shoulder holster. Slowly, but without foreplay, she crawled into bed, and gazing into my eyes, knelt over my crotch and eased herself onto my cock. With a sigh of pleasure, she held still for a few moments, then used a remote control to send tingles of electricity into my ass and genitals. Watching my reaction, she turned it up a bit, and being in contact with the device, I could tell she was feeling it, too. Barely moving, she massaged my cock with her inner vaginal muscles. She turned the remote up another notch.
“Let’s see how much pleasure we can take together,” she whispered. “How much pain. I can take quite a lot of each. Can you?” She unholstered her revolver, whose six-inch barrel was covered by an anatomically correct dildo which she stuck deep into my mouth to suck.
“I would not cum if I were you. Not before me and certainly not without permission. That would be… ill-advised.”
She cranked up the electricity. I cried out in pain.
“What happened then, Uncle Kevin?” asked Ashley. It was Sunday morning at breakfast, and I was recounting my wild dream from a few hours earlier. The twins were entranced, even though it was a twisted tale of their abduction and assault. Yep, they were perverted Page’s progeny.
“That’s when I woke up, honey,” I said. She and Renee both groaned. “Honestly, girls, the whole nightmare - invaders and bondage and sex - was probably a result of that stupid ‘love potion’ your mother gave me last night. It always gave me crazy dreams. And I think it was sparked by you two asking to be tied up last evening. After I fell asleep, my mind went on a fantasy trip.”
Page remarked, "He woke Bettie and me up at three AM with his yelling. It gets better every time he tells it.”
“That bitch’s boobs get bigger every time,” snarked Bettie.
“Hey,” I defended myself, “You’re the ones who made me repeat it and kept adding debauchery. Girls, what I just told you is half my dream and half their lewd… extrapolations.
“You think that I’m a dominatrix in the making?” asked a slightly peeved Renee.
“Oh please,” injected Ashley. “When we played Pirates as kids, I’d be the one tied up, like, eighty percent of the time. When we played spy, it was nearly a hundred.”
Page broke in. “Just for the record, there are no hidden cameras, no evil plot, and I haven’t heard from Sergei in years. He might not even be alive. The automatic money we get each year is from a sizable Swiss bank account he established long ago.”
She smiled. “Maybe tonight, Kevin, you can dream about where this Siobahn takes us. Some further adventures. For now, let’s have breakfast. We have plans for the afternoon. The weekend isn't over.”