Whatever You Want · Part 3 (3/4)
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I slid into the light blue stockings and arranged the seams. I re-applied my make-up using more blues this time, to match with my outfit. The lipstick this time was of a darker shade, as it was not stipulated exactly what color to wear. I put on the listed triple strand pearl choker and matching earrings. This choker was merely ornamental, but it did give the illusion of being a high priced slaves collar.
From my closet I removed the white patent leather pumps. I sat down on the bed to put these on, as they were not your normal pumps. They also sported a five inch spiked heel, but these included a variety of straps that needed to be buckled in place. Two thin straps crossed over the arch of the foot and were joined by a T-strap coming straight up from the mouth of the shoe. The heel included a leather extension, which terminated in two more thin white straps that were closed with two miniature gold buckles. My master had told me, when I purchased these shoes, that these were true slave shoes as the straps always reminded the woman of her proper place.
I then slid on the white nylon mesh finger gloves, with the frills at the wrists.
Lastly, I put on the bustier's matching royal blue transparent mesh jacket.
As I said it was also made of a see-through material, but using two layers one over the other, made it mostly translucent.
I again slowly descended the stairs, carefully holding the railing. Partially my reticence was due to not wanting to hurt myself in a needless fall and partly it was a little trepidation about what comes after dinner.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I smiled and thought it doesn’t matter what awaits me behind those doors this is where I want to be.
master / husband will hate my writing this part, but this is what I said to him that night and if he wants an accurate record of that conversation he will have to leave this in.
Yes, this is where I want to be. We are not rich in monetary terms (though we have enough to keep everyone happy), but we have a wonderful family and we love each other. My husband, outside of this fantasy world, should be the model man for the 90’s. He generally lets me make all of the decisions concerning the rearing of our children and running the household.
Despite what you may think of him by reading this story, he is actually a wonderful father and a wonderfully sensitive husband.
yes I do want to be here. I walked up to the double doors and removed the expected envelope. Ah, a white satin sleep mask this time.
I slid it into place over my eyes. The elastic strap once again buried itself into my curly auburn locks, tightening the satin material over my eyes. I knocked as instructed and heard the doors open.
I felt my husband / master come to stand beside me. He placed my hand on the crook of his raised elbow, as he led me into the room like a lady going to a fancy party. I was seated in one of the two head of the table chairs. These had arms and straight backs. They were made of heavy wood, with padded fabric seats.
master lashed each of my arms at the wrist and the elbow to the matching arm of the chair. Again my legs were bound above the knee and at the ankles. My ankles were further restrained by being tied to a center bar, which was part of the chairs frame. Two sets of twin ropes were crossed across my chest in an X fashion, binding me into a perfect posture and upright position. Binding me to a chair to feed me dinner was a common part of one of my husband / masters bondage scenarios. But what I didn’t understand was why he had used rope instead of Velcro fasteners, as was his norm. Being bound at dinner was not a true bondage situation, so usually the black nylon and Velcro straps were the preferred method of binding me to my chair.
wondering mind turned to food as I heard my master sit down at the other end of the table. I could smell an Italian aroma wafting through the air. I heard him pop the cork on a bottle of wine. My stomach growled as I heard his knife and fork clicking against his plate as he ate. He did not rush his meal he simply ate normally. But, without the usual chit chat. When he was finally finished, I heard him go through the door to the kitchen. Soon he returned, and as he moved over to my side of the table I could smell that wonderful Italian aroma. I heard the plate being put down on the table in front of me and liquid being poured into a glass. Then my chair was pushed sideways and forward, into its place at the table. This was not unusual, because I knew that while my master was eating he liked to admire his handiwork.
I heard him step away for a minute. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it sounded like he was rearranging something on the table. Then he seated himself besides me. I felt the tips of a fork brushing my dark red lips. I cautiously took a nibble, to make sure it wasn’t overly hot. Hmmmm, Hmmmm, it was perfect. Fettuccini
Alfredo. My master feed me fork after fork of the delightful dish.
I savored the flavor and enjoyed my master feeding me.
Very gently he would put the fork next to my lips and as I opened my mouth demurely he would slide in the small portion of food. When I had had five or six bites, he would hold the wine glass to my waiting lips and tilt it just enough so that I could take a small sip. I made sure that
I only took small sips because the last thing I wanted to do was get tipsy during a bondage encounter.
I daintily ate bite, after bite until it my portion was finished. I was glad that it had not been any larger because I did not want to have had to offend my husband \ master by telling him that I had had enough. Again the wine was proffered and sipped. "Thank you, master", I said meaningfully, "for such a wonderful dinner." He did not say anything in response.
Instead I felt him lean over me and his warm lips met mine. Our tongues leaped at each other wrestling and groping each other. He slowed his pace and began to back away, finishing our kiss. I tried to lean forward to extend the intimacy, but I could not as the rope bindings across my chest dug into my soft flesh. All I felt was air in my open aching mouth.
I heard my husband clearing the meager effects on the table and moving about the room. Sliding my chair back from the table he began to unbind me.
He removed each set of ropes in the reverse of the order that he had put them on. First I was released from the ropes criss-crossing my chest.
Next from the ropes binding my ankles and knees. Lastly, my wrists and elbows were untied.
master helped me to stand, which as I have said before, was always helpful when you are wearing five-inch spike heels. He led me back into the living room and gently helped me out of my royal blue transparent jacket.
"It is time for another rest Lady Andrea", he informed. "As with swimming, it is not a good idea to enter into strenuous activities shortly after eating".
One of his hands lifted my right hand and with his other hand placed something made of leather into my palm. With both of my hands I felt the leather gadget, and quickly understood that this was a gag. "Please put this on slave", my master commanded me.
I took the central leather pad in both hands and lifted it towards my mouth.
I gave the attached cylindrical leather plug a sexy kiss as it reached my lips. Opening my mouth to receive the thick flat-headed plug, I closed down the sides of my mouth and sucked on it. I slowly pulled backwards on the leather pad, which I am sure made it seem like
I was actually sucking the two plus inches of hard leather into my mouth.
This was of course exactly what I was trying to do, as I knew that it would please my master to no end. I smiled mischievously behind the gag as I thought, that maybe my happy little slave girl act would send him back for another cold shower! I buckled the two sets of buckles as tightly as I could around my thick curly locks. I felt my master checking the separate leather straps and mummer something like… satisfactory.
Smack.
Totally unexpectedly, I felt my husbands strong bare hand slam into my buttocks. The spank pushed me a tottering step forward and forced an unintentional shriek to well up in my throat. My muffled mouth let merely a resounding, "Aarrrhhhh", pass through. "I just wanted to make sure that your gag was effective, my dear", said my master.
The blow especially stung, because my rear end was still tender from its encounter with the leather leash. "Cross your wrists in front of you and hold them out for binding", he commanded me.
Doing as instructed I felt rope once again surround my wrists. This time it was rough manila cord. My wrists were first bound down the middle and then from right to left forming a cross (+) pattern. This was done twice and the tied off, in a place that there was no way my fingers could reach. Unlike my last binding, this time my master left a few feet of cord hanging down from my wrists. My husband / master turned me a quarter turn (ninety degrees) and commanded, "Kneel down slave".
I slowly and as gracefully as possible lowered myself into the requested position. I kept my knees together as I had in our bedroom, resting my butt on the heels of my pumps and laying my bound wrists on my knees.
I lowered my head submissively and worked hard to remain immobile.
This wasn’t as easy as it sounded, for it was necessary to keep my high heels tightly together to support my rear end and this meant that only my severely strained toes were keeping my balance.
"There is a table before you slave, bend over it with your arms outstretched", again the voice of command. That voice that you knew meant that it would brook no insubordination at all. I bent forward and felt a cushion on the table. My hands slid past that leaving my hips propped up in the air by the thick pillow. A small lacy pillow was slid under my face at the point it would have come in contact with the table. I had soon realized that I was being forced to lie across the coffee table. My husband moved behind me separating my legs forcefully.
He bound each leg just above the knee to the opposite leg of the heavy table. Next a set of cords was thrown over my waist and the rope obviously went under the table, because as it was tightened it dragged my stomach against the hard wood. This was made even more uncomfortable than it should have been, because of the cushion propping up my thighs, which forced an unnatural thrusting of my tush upwards into the air.
The gag in my mouth was a fortunate item for me to be wearing at the moment.
For I knew that if I was able to speak I would have barked like a dog.
I know my sense of humor and if he wants to give it to me "doggie" style, I felt that I should at least give him a howl or two. The rope attached to my wrists was pulled forward and tightened. This stretched and straightened my arms, which lay to either side of my head. Lastly he bound each ankle separately with rope, pushing them even further apart he attached them to some sort of spreader bar.
husband / master stood up, pausing for a minute or two, before he began to slowly circled me. My master is a perfectionist when it comes to rope work and the bondage position. He has told me that he is always striving to create a piece of living art work out of my bound form.
He also has a particular way of doing all of his rope work to make it more attractive. He takes each rope and bends it in half at its mid-point.
Taking the taped loose end of rope and passing it through the loop formed at the middle of the rope starts each tie. In this way each time he wraps rope around one of my appendages, two strands are applied side my minds eye I could see myself tied to the dark mahogany wood of the coffee table. My knees were wrapped with four manila cords and tightened by the winding rope, which completed the figure eight. My powder blue seams making little roadways down my legs to my widely spread ankles.
The manila rope surrounding my ankles ended just above the top twin straps of my highly arched pumps. My white leather sheathed toes were splayed to either side of the offending bar. I could feel his eyes traveling up my immobilized legs and thighs and resting on the blue lace crotch less panties that covered my rear. These panties were somewhat different then the previous ones as they were split open from stem to stern. I am sure this afforded him a wonderful picture of my curly haired love mound and my puckered little anus. The quadruple rope cords pressing into the royal blue nylon mesh fabric that covered my back, served to squish my stomach and breasts into the hard wood.
My head lay sideways on the provided pillow, probably propping it up over my surrounding bound arms. With the white satin night mask and the thick black pad that held my gag in place, I doubted that much of my face could be seen.
his own good time he moved around to my rear end. I knew this as soon as I felt him apply the gooey substance around and over my puckered rear entrance. This surprised the heck out of me as it was just not one of my husband / masters normal interests. In fact I believe that we had had anal sex less times than the number of years we had been married!
But here he was lubing me up, pushing one and then two fingers into my tight opening. He applied more of the Vaseline and made sure that his probing fingers pushed plenty of the slippery substance into me.
Next I felt something hard and stiff against my rear entrance. It wasn’t his manhood though, it was stiffer and harder and the tip was more rounded and tapered. Slowly this invading hardness was pushed into my rectum. Its tapered head pushed open my greased passageway bit "Oooorrrrhhhhh", I groaned through my mouth-filling gag.
When my master had about two inches of what I now assumed was my own milky white vibrator, in me he stopped.
I could feel my spinster muscles tightening and I believe actually starting to push the offending plastic out of my abused anal canal. I helped by clenching and unclenching my buttocks muscles. My master would have none of these shenanigans though, and with a firm shove he inserted a full four or five inches of the hard plastic into me. I knew that he had not shoved it all the way in because, he at that point held the end and swirled the plastic penis around my insides. When he stopped
I realized that neither my spinster nor butt muscles were going to be able to dislodge the item. So there it remained, in all probability looking like a thick white rectal thermometer sticking out of my ass.
"Time for your rest now", my master informed me. I heard him sit down and pick up what sounded like a newspaper. I heard the rustling of the pages until he found something that interested him. "Oooouuuummmpppfff", I moaned as I felt him lower his crossed feet onto my already strained back muscles. Humiliation was a much-used ingredient in most S&M play. But just as anal sex was unusual for us, so was this.
Treating me like a piece of furniture was only something he had done for laughs previously. As I lay there, resting I had a lot of time to think.
The only answer that I could come up with for my husband / masters deviation away from our "norm", was the length of time we had to fill. Usually, we only had one or two hours, to act out any bondage fantasies. During those times I would hurriedly dress and then my master would subject me to one or two bondage’s. A session of lovemaking would follow and that would be it. Today we had a full four or five times that amount of time. So I guess my master was just intent on trying all of those things that we normally didn’t have the time to do.
Part 3
Time passed slowly, but pass it finally did. I heard the rustle of the paper being set aside and then the weight of his heavy feet being removed from my aching back. He came around behind me and knelt between my spread legs. His hands caressed the leather and straps of both of my pumps at the same time, sliding upwards to the itchy manila rope that harnessed my nylon sheathed ankles. He fondled my ankles and the bindings, slowly and lovingly, before moving onwards. The balls of his fingers traveled up the seams of my stockings, stopping to rub my tortured flesh about my bound knees.
Up the steep slope of my legs and thighs his hands probed, dallying long enough around the top of my stockings to give them a little pull and let them snap back against my milky smooth thighs. Over my white half moons they slowly went, as if they had minds of their own. Onto the lacy soft blue nylon of my panties.
He kneaded my firm rump with both hands all of the time seeming to be gaining power and strength from his actions.
I felt the material of his pants drape over my legs as they fell to the ground about his knees. Unceremoniously the white pseudo cock was pulled from my rectum. Again I felt something hard and stiff waiting at my rear door, but this time it had the familiar feel of the firm head of my master’s rod. He rubbed his manhood on both of my cheeks and then
I could feel him pumping himself behind me. When he was ready he began to slowly press at my buttocks single ogre like eye. His thick-capped head was refused access by my tight little hole at first. I felt him gather himself together and then surge forward against my hips.
"Oooouuupphhh", I moaned as just like the ball popping behind my teeth, his cock head popped into my tight back door. I felt his staff stop, until the hand that he had supported his shaft with was removed. Both of his hands were moved to my hips as he began a very slow smooth back and forth motion with his hips.
Once past my tight trap door, he did not seem to have any problem with the tightness of my rear confines. The Vaseline lubing I had earlier received seemed to allow him comfortable access to my asshole. My situation was much different than this. Every push forward of his surging hips pushed his stiff rod deeper into my nether regions. His cock was both wider and longer than the previous plastic inhabitant of my rear canal and it felt like it was ripping me apart. Behind my mask I ground my eyes shut to ward away the pain. Expulsions of air were forced from my lungs as each of his thrusts went forward. They sounded like mere gasps around the effective black gag. Slowly my master drove a fiery path down my rectal canal with his hot thick manhood. Each thrust pushing into my bound motionless hips a little harder and farther.
Finally his strokes seemed to have reached the limit of their depth and he began to pull out until only the tip of his penis was still embedded in my anus and then drive forward until all of the rest of him was sucked into my anal tract. At first this was almost as painful as his opening strokes had been, but as both I and my butt muscles relaxed, the pain began to recede. So each of his thrust was merely uncomfortable and I could begin breathing more easily.
Forward he dove and backward he pulled time after time. My master was really into a grove, as I could feel him growing within me. His strokes were going so far backwards that a couple of times I feared that he would fall out and we would have to start all over again! He didn’t though; he just pushed in and out of my ultra tight rear end time and time again.
I unclenched my hands, which I had earlier clinched into fists before me.
I am not going to say that it was beginning to feel good being impaled back there, but there was something about the thought of my master in heat that was heating my blood. Faster and faster he pumped his hardened meat into me. Each stroke slamming into my hips, pushing them backwards and rubbing my lowered back raw where the rope held me to the table.
A floodgate opened in my anal canal. It was like someone had all of a sudden poured a hot enema down my rear gullet. I knew my husband / master was coming in me as I could feel his rod twitch in the tight confines of my ass. He continued to pound it into me for a while, but at the end he pulled out. He laid his cock on the crack of my raised butt and let it pour out the remnants of its thick milky cum onto my brown pucker bunghole. I could feel the cum on my cheeks where he had pushed the crotch less panty fabric out of its uncertain lava like path. I heard him sigh with satisfaction as his eruption ebbed. He seemed to rest there for a while. Lastly I felt him wiping my butt off with a child’s wipe-em and resetting my meager panties in their appropriate place.
left me like that for a few minutes, leaving the room to clean himself up I suppose. Upon returning he made quick work of unbinding me from the table and helping me into a standing position.
I stood rubbing my unbound wrists as my master finally deigned to remove my mask.
I blinked my eyes in the harsh lights of the room. It seemed to be much brighter in here than normal. I saw that all of the shades had been lowered and that the heavy drapes had been closed. The furniture had been moved around to be less intrusive and more compatible with the bondage scene… Then I saw it. I could not believe my straining eyes. Upon a tripod rested our video camera and behind it was our
31" inch big screen TV. I couldn’t believe I was watching myself rub my wrists, standing in the middle of our living room / dungeon, wearing the sexy costume he had ordered me into.
face turned red and I turned on my husband like the wrath of God.
If it hadn’t been that I was still gagged at that point, there would have been a very colorful outburst emanating from me. My husband grabbed both of my arms and said softly, "You said whatever I want." He reminded me of my exact and damning words. I stopped twisting in his strong grip and began to calm down. He knew that I hated any thought that any of our goings on would get outside of our four walls. Therefore
I had always refused all of his attempts to allow him to videotape one of our encounters. In fact I had only allowed a mere three or four-dozen pictures, from a self-developing camera, to be taken of myself in these situations. Those were kept under lock and key in a strong box in our bedroom, with other important documents such as birth certificates.
Videotaping was just out of the question! My husband \ master was just too good with computers for videotape to be safe. He had one of those capture mechanisms that could steal a picture from tape and make it into a bit map. Heck our windows background was a picture of the kids taken from videotape!
"Calm down and hear my proposition, before you explode Andrea", he looked into my eyes and I glared back at him, angry and defiant. "We can stop this bondage encounter right now and you give me rights to disseminate that videotape any way I see fit. This includes posting your image on Internet bulletin boards and swapping it in chat rooms. I think
I can satisfy just about anyone’s taste with the film we have already taken…”
I surged against his strength, yelling curses and other dire threats through my muffled mouth. He got the message though. "Or….", he continued.
"You agree to do a particularly difficult S&M scene. The tape is kept under lock and key, no one but you and I view it and no pictures from it ever leave this house. Of that I give you my word."
Now I really began to calm down, his word was always good. Of course it left me with little or no choice in the matter, but he had obviously arranged it that way. I was beginning to wonder if all of this was a set up to get me to agree to this next scene. Once again as if reading my mind he guided my body through a quarter turn.
Looking at the archway going into the dining room, I could see a set of double block and pulleys suspended from the heavy-duty frame of our tract lighting.
Suspension bondage, probably the most difficult bondage there was.
With the nautical block and pulley arrangements he could easily pull my weight fully up to the ceiling. He had moved over to the camera and was taking in both my expressions and the direction of my gaze. Suspension bondage was rough, but there had to be more otherwise the choice was far too easy. I looked towards my husband \ master questionably and he pointed towards the dinning room table. On the white linen covered table, the pads had been removed, were the implements and items, which were to attend my proposed punishment. A full leather arm binder sleeve was the first item on the table. Besides it rested black leather cuff
