The Ex-Girlfriend · Part 2

The Ex-Girlfriend · Part 2 (2/2)
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vishing the guy. I waited in my car until I saw another car coming down the street. I hoped it was her, but I didn’t stick around long enough to find out.

Speeding home, my mind raced around a bunch of thoughts. I didn’t like the idea of her using a taser on John, but I figured John would relent to her with only the threat of being tased. Other than having that one bad thought, I relished the memory of that very hot and very dangerous scene. Yes, I fingered myself and came before I even got home.

John didn’t come home that night or the next couple days. I worried at first, then got angry. Was John being “kept” by his ex, or was he happily back together with her? Was he so embarrassed and humiliated by what had happened to him that he couldn’t face me? I needed to speak to him to either get closure and move on or forgive him and carry on.

I didn’t have to stew in my solitude for very long. I arrived home one afternoon and found an envelope taped to my front door. It was an elegant invitation to the Ex’s home for a meet-up. Yeah, right. Visions of her basement, now fully stocked with bleach and trash bags, came to me instantly. Would it be her or John with the raincoat, latex gloves and the chainsaw? Yes, I watch too many inappropriate movies.

I had two thoughts as I read and re-read the invite. One, she could have confronted me a bunch of times over the last two days. I’m frequently alone, and I was never one to watch my back. Two, the invitation had exposed her. I now had her address and her name in writing. I also had been inside her lovely home and was on tape doing unsavory things. We were both exposed, I guess. I couldn’t resist meeting this horrible, beautiful bitch.

Again with the poor decisions. I did my best to look irresistible the evening of the meet. My hair, make-up and outfit were impeccable. I wore my hair up to be professional, make-up heavy (slutty) to be sensual, tight dress with a waistcoat to show my curves, stockings and high heels to make me feminine yet formidable. This was the way John always wanted me to dress for occasions. He would drool when he saw me, if he was going to be there at all.

I showed up five minutes late, nervous as hell. The house was lit up, and I was greeted by the woman I had been thinking about and dreaming about for days. She led me in and told me her name, which wasn’t important. What was important was how she looked. We must have been on the same wavelength because she was wearing a darker, tighter, sexier version of my outfit; a tiny, lacy dress with a tailored waistcoat, delicate black fishnets above spectacular high heeled pumps.

Her dark hair was up as well, drawn back severely in a high ponytail, which meant two things: you could easily strap a gag into her mouth without messing up the do, or she was going to dominate you with her mouth, again, without getting mussed. She was delectable. I was impressed. I would have told her so right then, but I blacked out and hit the carpet just after a woman’s taser touched the back of my neck. John, you sneaky bastard. I didn’t even get to have a drink first.

Getting tased is dangerous and certainly not fun. I did go down but I was not out for very long, only a few seconds. I was woozy as hell and I’d lost any strength I’d had, so John and the Ex had no difficulty setting me up exactly the way they wanted me.

My dress, coat and bra were tossed. I was left in garter, stockings and heels. My arms and elbows were tied with the most exquisite rope. It was thick and slightly scratchy, with a tiny bit of stretch. This woman was a master dom. My legs and ankles were tightly bound and cinched, with ropes under the soles of my shoes, binding them to my feet. The scratchy rope on my ankles and tops of my feet made me a little crazy and a lot horny. A big, squishy ball gag was jammed in my mouth and strapped around my head. There is absolutely no way to make a sound with one of those bad-boys strapped in tight. I was helpless. They had not yet run the goddamned rope from my ankles to my wrists for a hog-tie, but the night was still young!

A whiff of smelling salts from the bitch (she had everything) brought me to full senses and I started to struggle. I rolled and squirmed in my bondage and spat curses from my gag. As I said earlier, I had a kinky side. I liked anything non-vanilla when it came to sex, and most of my experience was in role-playing and costumes. I had done a few small scenes with furry handcuffs, gags, blindfolds and toys, and had a blast. I’d had wonderful experiences with both men and women.

I had never, up until now, been tightly bound and gagged and made available to an experienced dominatrix and a horned-out dude. As I strained against the ropes, I thought about how I was most likely going to suck a big cock, eat pussy, get railed in both holes, and a combination of all those things, in the very near future. That thought made me angry and a little scared, and yes, hot and very wet.

The Ex looked down at me with hungry eyes and Johnny actually looked like he was going to start drooling. I imagined that I did look sexy as hell, based on how they stared at me. As soon as I wished to be brought up from the fucking carpet, they both got to work. I was whisked into the master bedroom and tossed onto the big bed. Welcome back!

This is where the dynamic duo really got to work. I got more rope than I’d ever seen wrapped around my body and stretched tight into places I never imagined rope to go. My upper body and tits were wound with miles of rope that grabbed and slid across my most tender areas. The Ex-Dom goddess knew exactly what to do with every inch of that fucking rope. Overall, the mild pain of the snug, scratchy rope all over my body, compared to the deliciously rough tickling where the “special” ropes were pulled tight were just about even. Tears of embarrassment came as I struggled and mewed. Screams of terror bubbled through my gag when I got the nipple clamps with the fucking tight chain in between.

I was frog-tied. My upper body was secured with my arms firmly behind my back. Each of my legs was tied in a bent position, with my heeled-shoe almost touching the back of my thigh. Yes, she tied my foot and its 4-inch stiletto pump somehow onto my bent leg. She really liked high heels. I’d wear them for her forever. The metal clamps pinched nipples that had been hard as pebbles since I walked in the door. Now I was immobile with no arms and bent legs. Worse (or better), my bent legs could be easily pushed apart and my entire package completely exposed for whatever reason under the sun. This was way more dangerous than a hog-tie, so I got a little nervous.

I had two thoughts when the ropework was done. One, what is gonna happen to my now completely exposed garden of Eden? Two, how crazy or angry or turned-on is this woman going to be, and is she gonna take all of that out on me?

She got busy immediately. A belt was fastened around my waist with another strap that went between my useless legs and snapped to the waist belt. Lubed pods went right into my asshole and my pussy, and the strap was tightened. Zing! Both came alive inside me and I jumped and shrieked. These were also probably set on the highest settings and would torture my tender spots for eternity, or until I came and passed out. I could already feel a serious orgasm building from all the fucking rope, gag, clamps, heels and this magnificent bitch who put it all together.

She stepped back to examine her handiwork; her eyes were roaming all over me. I screamed and moaned and struggled, all the while staring into her eyes. She bent over and took my tits into her hands and worked my hard, clamped nipples with shiny red fingernails. The dildos took me easily and I came frantically, jerking and crying and panting. Waves of pleasure boiled through me and just when I thought I might come again, I heard a strange noise, and something hit me. I mean, someone hit me. I mean, someone fell on top of me.

Oh, John, what have you done? And where have you been? I lost John way back when he threw me onto the bed, actually. The man had taken the taser and zapped his mistress (my mistress) when she was fondling me to a blinding orgasm. It was a good zap from the taser, she was out.

Lightning fast, John rolled her onto her back and stretched her out on the other side of the bed. He turned off my vibes, thank God, probably so I could watch. He tied and cinched her hands above her head and fastened the ropes to the bed frame. Then, he took a pocket knife and sliced off her tiny dress. Snip, off came her bra. Snick, off came her panties. He left her stockings and heels on, though. Good man.

Mistress woke up about the time John had tied one ankle to a bedpost, so he grabbed a cruel looking ball gag and strapped it behind her head and under her chin. The next rope bound her other ankle to her thigh, just like both of my ankles. John, you slick fuck. You’ve got her bound, gagged and set up as good as me.

I had one thought. A bound and gagged dominatrix may not be a good thing. She is gonna be pissed off beyond belief, if she does not like being a sub. Johnny may have forfeited his life away, poor guy.

Turned out, she did get pissed but John’s bondage held fast. He had actually done a great job because she looked hotter than hell as she struggled and howled through her gag. I was impressed. Until the bastard strapped blindfolds on me and the Ex.

It had seemed like an eternity since I knocked on her door that night. Truth was, it had been less than an hour. The last thing I saw was the clock on the wall. Darkness took us both. We were John’s property now.

For the next two hours, John was the luckiest, happiest man on earth. He had two hotties tightly tied, squirming in slutty clothes and wide open for anything. I felt kinda good that he started with me.

He set me on my knees on the bed next to her. He knelt in front of me and pulled out my gag. He guided me to his hard cock, and I got down and sucked it like a whore, hoping he would be merciful. He groaned with pleasure while he reached over and worked three fingers deep into her pussy, massaging her clit vigorously. Our mistress squealed and writhed in her bondage.

He pulled away suddenly. Asshole. He rolled me around roughly and stuck my face into her crotch. I ravished her with my mouth while dick-boy came around the bed and pulled out her gag. She sucked on John the same way I had, hoping the same. He grunted and panted when he heard her orgasm start to bubble to the surface. When she did come, he couldn’t take the heat and also came hard, spewing cum over both of us. Gross.

Despite her fierce struggling, he popped her gag back into her mouth and went for me again. He shoved me off of her and stuffed my mouth with my own gag as well. Then he turned on my vibes to max and ate her pussy until both of us came hard, screaming through our gags and fighting against our bondage.

We were all spent. Ex and I laid on the bed catching our breath and John just left the room. I imagined he would go watch television for a while and eat a sandwich, and then start all over on us. Round two, as it were. My thoughts started to go VERY haywire, as my vibes were still going nuts inside me. The scene in my head went as follows:

John would recover and come for me first, again. He would yank out all the machines inside me and get me on my back with my bound, bent legs in the air. He would fuck the living shit out of me and I could do nothing to stop him. My arms and hands would go numb in the ropes under me and I would plead for mercy only to hear bubbly whines and moans from my fucking gag. The Ex would be squirming and whining as she watched me get pummeled. No doubt my body, and my damn kinky mind, would betray me and I would come multiple times.

John wouldn’t finish in me, oh no. Not with sexy super-dom right next door. He would throw me aside to struggle and fume while he mounted her with his big cock still wet with my juice. She would be expecting this and try to fight him off, but no way, sister. John would bear down on her arms or even place a strong hand on her throat while he pumped away as hard as he could. He would say some very nasty things to her, things he could never say while she had him tied and gagged. She might come, if the scene turned her on, but maybe not. Didn’t matter. John would likely pull out of her as well, then jack himself off, blasting right into her face and chest, one of his favorite moves, and then…

BAM! Back to reality! BOOM! I came! The vibes and the nipple clamps got me. I closed my eyes and said fuck, fuck, fuck, as an orgasm ripped me apart. I came to my senses quickly, though and I shivered as I thought about what was really going to happen to us, and I literally screamed into my gag when I considered the fact that there might be a round three and round four! OH SHIT I THINK I’M IN TROUBLE.

But no. John didn’t come to put the fucks to us. He didn’t do any of that. He quietly stepped into the bedroom holding my clothes and bag. He gently untied me, snipping rope with his knife like a surgeon. Mistress squirmed and spit in her still-tight bondage. He pulled me off the bed, undressed me and helped me into the shower. While I steamed the rope marks off of me, John took care of his mistress in another part of the house, I suppose. He came back, helped me dress and walked me to the door. We didn’t speak. I went home, ate dinner, drank a beer, went to bed and slept.

I never saw John again. I missed him for a while, then didn’t. I thought about her a lot, though. I couldn’t really miss her based on the amount of time I spent with her, but she was on my mind way more than ol’ John.

I arrived home one afternoon and found an envelope taped to my front door!

END

The Ex-Girlfriend · Part 2 (2/2)
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