Roped in to Entertain · Part 1 (1/2)
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Note:
I have discussed with Geoff, many times, my fantasies about being taken against my will by two, three or more men. He has likewise often offered to arrange this with some friends and every time I have willingly agreed.
However this was some time ago and the reader should be aware that whilst
I was a willing participant to what follows, I had also forgotten all about
The invitation for dinner was not unusual; we often went out for a meal or Geoff would entertain me at his house, a wonderful experience on a warm summer night, as the garden, as you might expect from a professional gardener, is glorious. It is also very secluded and not overlooked which gives lots of opportunities for private fun and games. But I digress.
As usual I debated at great length about my ensemble and the bed was soon strewn with rejected items of clothing which were too tight, too boring, the wrong colour or whatever. In the end I settled for a short flared mini skirt in narrow pleated black chiffon with a filmy lining. I teamed this with a sheer damask chiffon blouse, which was somewhat see through, as were my tiny black panties; they didn't even have a crotch lining. A pair of black seamed self-supporting stockings felt good, tights would not have been appropriate and suspenders would have shown as bulges under the short filmy skirt. A pair of red ankle-strap sandals completed the outfit and with my make-up done I was dressed to kill. I paraded up and down in front of the mirror pleased as punch with the result; Geoff should be delighted.
When I arrived I had to tiptoe over his dammed gravel drive to save scraping the leather high-heels of my sandals but once inside he greeted me ecstatically and quickly led me into the living room. The table had been laid for four and I turned on him accusingly, since his invitation had led me to believe I was in for a passionate evening. He calmed me down by distracting me, suggesting a spot of bondage, our mutual passion, before the other guests arrived. As he brandished the white ropes he wanted to try, he said, a new position that should be fun. Of course in no time at all, before he had even offered me a pre dinner drink, I was kneeling on the rug in the middle of his lounge.
"Now kneel forwards and put you elbows on the floor, in front of your knees and touching them with your forearms flat on the floor", he ordered.
I did as bid and watched him slip the soft rope around the back of my left knee and then around the inside of my left elbow, roping the two tightly together. He moved around and repeated the process on the right side before asking me how much I could move. He gave a wry chuckle when I demonstrated how easy it was to move around and indeed to escape.
We started again and he roped me in just the same way, but then he produced two broomstick handles, wooden rods about four feet long. He lay one down alongside me on each side and proceeded to rope my left wrist to the stick and then my left ankle to the other end. Then he took more rope and tied my already bound elbow and knee to the middle of the stick. That procedure he also repeated on the other side.
He then produced three spreader bars, each about eighteen inches long, which he strapped around my ankles, then my legs just above my knees and finally my wrists. Movement was becoming very difficult now and when Geoff started to fasten a leather collar around my neck I couldn't twist away to stop him. Nor could I prevent him hauling down on the collar until he fastened it to the middle of the spreader bar between my wrists. Now my chin was brushing the rug and as a result my bottom stuck up in the air.
Suddenly I realised I was in a very embarrassing and vulnerable position; head down, on my knees with my legs held firmly apart and my bottom, and pussy, barely hidden beneath that short flimsy skirt.
He was clearly enjoying himself, as his wandering hands confirmed. I twisted around to remind him that much as I liked his attentions the other guests would be arriving shortly; only then did I catch sight of the shiny black something that he deposited in front of me. The aroma of rubber was unmistakable and as he unrolled the material the form of a head became apparent. He raised the hood out of my sight and the cool blackness began to enfold my head.
"Hey! What's this? I can't see". Blackness enfolded me as the hood squeezed over my head. Then there was a pause and very gently two firm protuberances made themselves felt in my nostrils. Then the tugging continued and my last protest was cut off as my mouth filled with cold limp rubber.
"Oomph. Art arr ooo ooing?" I asked somewhat ineffectually. There was no reply and, without warning, my mouthful of rubber came to life and rapidly expanded. Soon my jaw was wide open and my cheeks bulging as Geoff pumped up the inflatable gag. It was now an effort to make any sound, and any intelligible sound was clearly out of the question. I could feel Geoff smoothing the neck of the hood around the collar and I heard him straighten up. Now I could turn my head from a little from side to side and I could wriggle my hands and feet, but apart from that I was totally helpless.
Geoff's voice came through the rubber clearly.
"Are you alright in there?" he asked.
"Mmm" I managed. I nodded the little I could to confirm, breathing rubber smells comfortably through my nose and waiting for Geoff's next move.
Ding-dong! I tensed as the door chimes announced the arrival of the other guests. He must untie me now, or carry me through into the other room, quickly. Instead I heard his footsteps going away and then voices advancing down the hall, jocular male voices in high spirits. I squirmed helplessly, surely he wouldn't let other people see me like this. Who were they anyway? The panic rose and my helplessness was really brought home to me. Now I could feel the footfalls on the floor getting very near, as greetings and excited comments about the entertainment flew about. Then
Geoff was offering pre-dinner drinks and there was a lull as I sensed rather than heard people sitting down. The chink of glasses and the glorious sound of something splashing into a glass reached me clearly through the helmet; and I'd not had a sip of anything this evening. My bulging mouth suddenly yearned for something cool. Why was I seemingly invisible though? And who were his male guests? I was clearly the victim of one of his elaborate jokes.
"So – you promised entertainment Geoff", hailed the voice I had already nicknamed Gruff. Geoff must be in the kitchen. Sure enough his voice came booming from the other side of the room.
"Well I thought we could spread the entertainment over the whole of the meal. What do say boys, take it slowly and savour it over a couple of hours?" His voice was light and friendly and all of a sudden I knew what was happening. I was the entertainment. Oh my God! I had an urgent but thwarted desire to clench my thighs together, my fingers fluttered uselessly and my feet tensed against their bonds. That was it! There were four places laid for dinner and I'd heard three voices I didn't recognise, so that was three guests and Geoff, with myself as 'entertainment'.
"Gentlemen" Geoff's voice cut through my tumbling thoughts, "may I present for pleasure…." Cheers and applause followed his announcement and I later learnt that he had placed a card table covered with a long cloth over me to hide me from view until he was ready to reveal me.
"Oh yes! Look at that bum."
"Cor! Oh yes Geoff! Very nice, very nice indeed."
"I love those legs. Wheredya find her, Geoff."
"Gentlemen" Geoff called, I could almost imagine him waving his arms to call for silence, "admire and feel free to touch, but I suggest we save the first piece of action until after the first course".
There was a general murmuring and I stiffened, as without warning a hand ran up my thigh and cupped my pubic bone. For the second time that evening I tried in vain to clamp my thighs shut, but the spreaders were very effective. I mewed into my gag and then went rigid again as hot hands pawed my breasts. The blindfold took away all warning and anticipation and I trembled with a mixture of fear, anticipatory imagination and desire as the hands roamed freely, leaving no part of me untouched. At last Geoff called them to table and I was left shaking with excitement, breathing shallowly through my rubber tubes, totally at the mercy of these unknown men. I could imagine the sight I presented and felt somewhat snubbed that they could so easily leave me in favour of food, even though Geoff, amongst his other talents, is a very good cook.
The clatter of knives and forks made my stomach rumble and momentarily took my mind away from my predicament. I'd not eaten since an early lunch and now it looked as if I was to be denied a dinner long promised me. I writhed futilely in my bonds but escape was impossible now. The wooden broomsticks held my arms and legs immobile whilst the spreader bars prevented me from closing my legs or rolling over on my side. I couldn't even slump backwards so my bottom could rest on my heels, the collar secured to my wrist bar saw to that; I had to kneel there lewdly presenting myself whether
I wanted to or not.
I gathered the first course was salmon, which was consumed as conversation flitted back and forth, covering football, cars, holidays, jobs and of course women. References about me were frequently made, and what I might expect to happen next. My knees were soon turning to jelly. It appeared
Geoff had promised to furnish them with a riding crop with which to "turn her backside pink". The clatter of plates being cleared gave way to cheers, as presumably Geoff produced the promised implement, then suddenly I felt hands running up the outside of my thighs. They ran right up without stopping and flipped my skirt up over my bottom. The cries of delight made me very aware of the transparency of my knickers and I could visualise my lips pressed together by the film of thin black see-through material. Suddenly
I realised they didn't have to imagine; they could see.
Now Geoff was lecturing them and I relaxed a little. With him to oversee matters at least I could be sure I wouldn't get more than I could take.
And then, as he talked, hands caressed my hips and my panties were sliding down my thighs. His hands? Or was a man I'd never met, or even seen, pulling down my panties? There was some murmuring and then a silence.
Ahhh! Ow! That hurt. The ribald comments urged the perpetrator to continue, but whoever was wielding the crop knew their business. There was a pause that went on seemingly for an age and then suddenly, with a tiny whistle beforehand, came the second blow: Ow! The cry of dismay was stifled into silence by the gag and that also seemed to stop the escape of pain, as my bottom burned furiously with the impact. I was still trying to compose myself when the next blow fell, equally savage and just below the previous one, following a pattern. My meow was again choked by the mouthful of rubber and the voices of approval heightened my helplessness. The next stroke and the one after came quicker, I think, and I tried to scream but the rubber left no room for my mouth to move. I shook my head, all that I could do, but it didn't help the fire in my buttocks.
Then three quick strokes hit the same spot and I heaved against the ropes, the fire spreading out across my tautly presented cheeks, as I sobbed with frustration and agony. Then I felt the fires soften and I almost groaned as the first stirrings of lust awoke. The warmth was creeping inside me and melting my resolve.
The desire was quenched a little as the next blow landed on the sensitive crease between bottom and thigh and I shrieked with dismay, only to find the cry balling up in my throat. I wanted to scream and I was not even allowed to do that. Then with a loud thwack the last of that series of blows struck the same spot at the top of my other leg and I almost pounded my head on the floor in a mixture of pain, lust and frustration. Geoff told me later that almost no sound whatsoever had leaked out despite my best efforts.
Another ten blows came from the next man, these were quicker and a little harder, but by now my cheeks were afire and I couldn't be absolutely sure about that. The next ten were very rhythmic but tended to be placed about the same spot on each side so that did hurt. All the time there were lewd comments being exchanged about my bum and the colour that it was turning, about the way my breasts jiggled and my legs flexed. It all served to remind me of how defenceless my position was.
The last ten strokes were so professional I felt it must be Geoff. The pause between each was timed to perfection, stringing out the waiting for maximum effect whilst not letting the burning from the previous blow fade too much. They were all in a regimented line, each stroke just below the last and at the end I was sobbing with the burning fire both inside and out.
I was still squirming when the clatter of plates reminded me that the men were still in the middle of a meal and I was mere entertainment. Conversation became more general and peace reigned for a while, although I longed to both eat something and soothe my burning buttocks, of which I could do neither. Laughter and conversation continued for an age and being ignored was almost worse than having my backside beaten. I knelt there with my skirt thrown up over my back, my panties taut between my thighs
Roped in to Entertain · Part 1 (1/2)
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