Bondage as Aftercare · Part 1 (1/2)
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Cora’s head rested on the door to her house. She was mentally fried. For an accountant, tax season sucked, like sucked on a higher plane of suckitude kind of sucked. It didn’t help that Suzanne had fucked up the account for one of the firm’s biggest clients, and Cora had to spend the last day of the season straightening that clusterfuck. She had of course, but it had been by the skin of her teeth. She lightly banged her head on the closed door to her house. She looked forward to some downtime, and specifically some much needed time with her wife.
Maxine always took care of her during this season, and she always had something ready to erase the memory of that final push at the end. Cora’s lips twisted upward in a small smile as she thought about her wife. The woman could be eccentric, or perhaps some might say the word was strange, but that suited Cora’s tastes. Despite what her no nonsense work persona might give an impression of, Cora had peculiar proclivities and tastes, many of which aligned with Maxine’s. It was comforting to know that she could rely on their mutual kinks at a stressful time like this. She knew Max would have some sort of plan for the night, a plan dedicated to her no less. It made Cora feel special; to know she would be their focus.
Turning the key and opening the door, Cora entered with a loud exaggerated sigh. She quickly kicked off her high heels, the vicious bastards, and slammed the door. A startled “huh?!” coming from their living room told Cora that Max had fallen asleep waiting up for her. It was absurdly late she had to concede. Cora should have been home hours ago, but that fucking bitch Suzanne had crushed any hope of that. She looked up from setting her bag and phone down to see a bleary-eyed Maxine stumbling into the hall rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Hey, hon…sorry you had to work so late, but tax season is over!” the dark-skinned woman gave a half-awake but genuine smile that Cora adored and cherished.
“FUCKING THANK GOD!” she shouted as her wife approached.
“That bad, huh?” Max asked, a sympathetic look to her mussed features.
Cora managed a nod, while her face remained contorted in fury over the bullshit she had dealt with today. Without another spoken word, Max’s arms wrapped around Cora’s waist pulling her closer. Max leaned up slightly as the two shared a caring kiss. Cora’s body, riddled with tension and wrath, quieted and relaxed, if only by a modicum. Max’s mere presence was a calming salve to the worst of her wrath.
It had always been this way. Max was always the tranquil steady one at home. Cora, on the other hand, always felt that in the safety of their private place that she could let the oft-suppressed rage monster that slumbered in her out. It probably wasn’t fair to her wife, but Cora appreciated that she could let that ugly side of herself loose with Maxine, and there wouldn’t be any judgement or ‘oh she’s a bitch’ sneers behind her back. The key part though was not aiming it towards the caring woman, which Cora managed, most of the time. She really didn’t deserve such a kind and understanding partner, but here they were. Cora could feel her heightened blood pressure lowering with each second Max held her, kissed her. It was like her words and gestures were a lullaby.
Around the time Cora’s mind finally calmed enough to see something other than the color red, Maxine pulled back, still holding her, but giving the two a space to breathe, and to ask a question, “So, I’m guessing that from that outburst and the fact that you are ridiculously late, things didn’t go well for the last day of the season…so does someone need a bit of aftercare?”
Cora brightened at the thought of aftercare. It was a loaded and coded bit of speech between the two. A flippant joke once years ago that had become synonymous with the use of kinky play to forget their real-world problems and stresses. Cora gave a meek and suppliant nod.
Maxine’s dark eyes sparkled with a knowing glint. “Well, do you need peaceful or aggressive aftercare, or a bit of both?” a thoughtful tone to her voice, bereft of even the hint of snark. Cora pressed one of her wife’s hands to her cheek, her eyes staring at the floor, another sheepish nod her only answer.
They had been together long enough for Max to read between the lines, to understand the subtle unspoken signals. Words weren’t needed here in their place. “Oh, you poor thing, you really must have had a terrible time,” Max’s sweet words matched by a gentle touch as her hand drifted down Cora’s neck, coming to rest open palm on her clavicle. “Don’t you worry. I’ve already got your favorite suit prepped and laid out in the workout room.”
Cora looked up, her face relaxing as the words washed over her. Of course, the love of her life had things already prepared for her, and had anticipated her need. She gave a quick mischievous peck to Max’s ear.
“Ah! Why always with the ear!” Max shouted with a giggle and playful limp-wristed slap. She always claimed she hated the little kisses to the ear, but Cora knew better. “Now, get going, and I’ll be there in a second to help hook you up.” Maxine turned to head off, but Cora pulled her back for one more kiss, this one on the lips and laced with unspoken gratitude.
After the last bit of affection, Cora practically skipped away down the hall to their workout room. A renewed vigor suppressing, if not yet curing, the seething tempest of rage, stress, and frustration. She paused halfway there, noticing the beautiful meal sitting cold and untouched on a fully set table. Pangs of guilt hammered her soul as she realized Max must have planned a sweet, romantic dinner for them. She looked back to her wife who was straightening and putting away Cora’s hastily discarded shoes and bag. Seeming to read the distraught look on Cora’s face, Max with a compassionate and reassuring voice told her, “It’s alright hon, I knew we might need to cut straight to the aftercare and bypass the romance. I promise, it’s really nothing. Now get going!”
The words helped, but didn’t fully abate her feelings, her shame, her selfishness. Nonetheless, she continued to their little workout space at the back of the house: a modest sized converted bedroom. The room’s carpet was pulled up and replaced with easy to clean padded tiles. The exterior window plastered over and a set of mirrors covering that entire wall, another concession for Cora’s tastes. A rack of weights, a couple exercise balls, and two sleek looking modern stationary bikes all making clear this was an activity room.
Draped over one of the two bikes was a glossy black thing that looked too small for someone to actually wear. Stripping quickly, and taking only the barest of time to pile the discarded garments and jewelry next to the door, Cora excitedly picked up the latex catsuit. The feel of it in her hands was soothingly familiar. For a good minute she simply held the prized article of clothing to her body, rubbing it against her bare skin. She could feel the arousal spike in her. Stretching the top opening she could see Max had already lubricated the catsuit, though talcum and a lubricant gel both sat on a shelf to the side if she needed them.
Her wife really was too good for her, anticipating so much, and how she found ways of making this time of year tolerable was the truest expression of love Cora could imagine. She seriously thought she’d have gone insane long ago if it hadn’t been for all of this sort of support from her partner. Once on the other side of her aftercare, Cora knew she’d do everything she could to repay Max.
With surprising, even if practiced, ease Cora slid her body into the clinging latex. It felt as if she were donning a second skin, but one that was a truer representation of her inner self than the stuffy vestments of her work attire. The catsuit covered her body from neck to ankle and wrist. A comforting pressure embraced her body, pressing in, and squeezing away the anxiety and at least some of the fury.
She owned a few different catsuits in a variety of colors, but this one was her old and faithful companion, her favored among the stable. A perfect choice by Max, as always. Staring at the wall mirrors, Cora let her hands glide across the reflective surface of her second skin, smooth and perfect. It hid nothing really, but instead proclaimed to the world her inner most self. The Cora that only one other soul knew.
Cora witnessed in the reflective surface Maxine entering through the doorway, only pausing briefly to take in the sight of her standing resplendent in her treasured raiment. “You know, I’ll never get over how sexy you look in those.” Cora blushed. “Let’s hurry up and get you strapped in before I take you back to the bedroom and ravish you instead.”
Cora giggled, it would be nice to do just that, but they both knew she needed her aftercare regimen to get back to feeling normal, feeling like herself, before she could really relax and enjoy some intimate time. She stepped up to the bike that was hers. Though the two exercise machines had started off as identical twins when they had bought them, they were quite different now with all the modifications Maxine had made to Cora’s.
First, were the ballet boots integrated into the pedals. They would force her toes into an unnatural and painful point while she cycled. Then there were the strong metal cuffs bolted to the handholds that ended with metal orbs denying her the use of her hands once secured. And finally, the centerpiece of Max’s improvements, a phallic vibrator sticking up through the seat. Who needed to buy a pricey Sybian when you had a mechanical engineer to make more interesting toys? Cora thought to herself happily. After applying some lubricant to the protruding false appendage and unzipping the catsuit’s crotch, Maxine helped Cora mount her bike. Cora felt the erect visitor enter her. A quiver of excitement throbbed through her nethers and then onto the rest of her body in anticipation of the impending session.
Cora’s arousal only intensified as her wife guided her feet into the cramped and torturous ballet boots. Each tug of the laces crushing her legs and feet. Maxine looked up into Cora’s eyes as she closed padlocks around the top of the boots locking them on. Cora relished in the knowledge there was no way she could get off the enhanced bike by herself. Instead, she’d have to rely on the one person in the world she knew she could. There was no better symbol of Cora’s love and faith in her partner than to entrust her with restricting her freedom like this.
With a sensual touch, Cora felt her arms being drawn forward into the awaiting cuffs. They were padded and encapsulated her arms from hands to elbow. Click, click, each was secured by Max. Cora expectedly raised her chin and closed her eyes. They both knew the ritual, this bondage as aftercare that Cora required to reset. In moments, she felt latex draw down across her head, her long hair pulled through a reinforced tube at the top of the article of fetish gear. The black material clung fiercely pressing against her head, cradling it in a much-needed embrace. Her eyes and mouth were all that were exposed to the room’s air now. A light kiss on those bare lips came before her wife’s hands wrapped a rigid black posture collar around Cora’s neck. Another click as a lock was applied to the collar.
“I get the feeling that you want a hard and quick routine?”
Cora moaned and nodded. Again, Max knew precisely what Cora needed. It was almost supernatural.
“Alright, routine three it is then.” Cora heard Max adjusting some settings on the display while her other hand absently fondled Cora’s latex covered chest. Cora again closed her eyes and began moaning, a small surprised yelp soon escaped her though as the machine whirred to life. With one last lust-inducing squeeze of latex clad breasts, Maxine left Cora to her private unwinding time, a true sign of her intimate understanding of her partner.
Cora quickly set a fast, frantic pace. The quicker she went the harder her little intruder pumped and vibrated. It was a fun little incentive. She was so thankful to have such a talented mechanical engineer for a wife. Routine three had a high resistance and a moderate distance to complete. It would force her to really work her legs to get the sensation she wanted, and she knew from experience she would be completely worn out in only a half hour. Early on, it was almost easy to power through the intense workout, and get the dildo to delight her. The rage and arousal were a powerful combination. Before long she was able to feel the welcome sensation of a cresting orgasm.
She locked her gaze straight ahead staring at her black clad form in the mirrors. Her eyes met her reflection’s. In them she could see the tumult of her soul bared before her. Pleasure, lust, and determination were washing away the anger, frustration, and vitriol still barely clinging on at the periphery of her consciousness. One hard push, and those negative thoughts, those infuriating feelings would be banished from her body and mind.
As she felt the climax nearing, she kicked her efforts into a new gear to induce the desired cleansing orgasm and the device buzzing and pumping away beneath her legs followed suit. A heady scream echoed through the small room as she shook and shuddered on the bike. She reflexively tried to pul
Bondage as Aftercare · Part 1 (1/2)
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