Laura · Part 2

Laura · Part 2 (2/3)
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“Nope!” She replied, abruptly confirming her fate for the next few moments, “I’m not begging.”

His arms snaked around her ribs, settling up her back where she welcomed him crushing her against his chest and planting his lips on hers. One hand then dropped into the arch of her back, followed by the other hand which continued further to cup her bottom and pull her loins against his arousal.

She managed to twist away from his kiss long enough to say the words, “Take my shorts off.” Before silencing his replying by pressing her lips on him once more.

“Well if you ask nicely, I might let them down," he cleverly repeated, breaking the kiss off again to speak.

“Please?” She let out.

Mike obliged by unfastening her top button and lowering the zip, before tugging desperately on each side to inch them down her legs.

Stepping from her clothes, she stood naked from the waist down, in front of the attractive man who should have been her enemy.

“I get it.” Mike said, “Being unable to fight back, without the use of your arms, and having the knowledge that any words of desperation are going to simply fall on deaf ears, should be enough to arouse even my hidden passions for submission. Am I right?”

“I have no idea what’s happening, but hurry up and bury yourself inside me!” She urged him, conscious about the air of cool wetness being visible around her lower lips.

Mike ripped off his work clothes and lifted her up, to straddle his erection, impaling her lubricated muscular resistance with ease.

Grabbing hold of the bottom of the climbing clip that secured her handcuffs, she took most of her weight, leaving him to take full control of pleasuring her from below.

It wasn’t long before this unexplored fantasy had her screaming out in orgasm, the sound of which urging him to keep going in the hope that he could join her, disappointingly resulting in her becoming a limp dead weight around his cock, dangling from her handcuffs, with only her head showing signs of life, by rolling backwards.

Grabbing her chest, he lifted her up, and released the clip from between her wrists, allowing her arms to fall around his neck, so he could carry her over to the bed in the corner of the lodge.

“What the fuck did you just do to me?" she asked, laying on her back, refusing to let him go.

“Are you ok?” Mike said, “I think you just passed out.”

With that, he freed himself from her grip and left her alone, to retrieve his boxer shorts.

Although this had sealed their relationship as one of a sexual nature, Mike hadn’t yet orgasmed, but didn’t want to force anything at such an early stage, so lay next to her on the bed and stared lustfully into her eyes.

“Can we do that again?" he asked.

Looking up to the ceiling, Laura raised her hands above her head, and commented on there being nothing useful for attaching her wrists to. “Well if that’s how you intend on pleasuring me, then you’ll have to get a headboard.”

Mike knelt beside her, holding the chain between her cuffs in his hand, sinking it into the softness of the pillows above her head.

“Yes," he smirked, taking note of what she’d suggested, “I agree, a headboard would be a much more comfortable option.”

His free hand stroked the inside of her corresponding arm as she lay, immobile and motionless, relishing the feel of his strong soft touch.

Not wanting to give the wrong impression, he bent down to kiss her, before letting go of her cuff chain, and leaving her on the bed, alone.

The fake news article he’d created to trick her into staying, if she ever decided to reject him and leave, seemed no longer necessary now that their game had changed.

“I think we should eat.”

He stood to clear his mind, picking up her clothing from the floor and passing it to her, to dress herself. “You must be hungry?”

In the kitchen area, he knocked together a concoction of rations from tins and the freezer, which, although unhealthy, went down like a storm in Laura’s current state.

After eating, she helped clear up, and Mike finished off his unpacking, after the rushed arrival earlier that morning.

Exhausted, the couple slept together, with Laura respecting his early start, to make up his hours that she’d taken from him.

The next morning, as he kissed her on the cheek, she woke and asked him, “Can I borrow your phone today please?”

“Sorry, I need it, but I’ll be back at a reasonable time today.” Feeling guilty about refusing, he stroked the hair from her pretty little wanting face, whilst considering how he could get her a phone of her own.

Lunchtime found Mike stepping cautiously back into the hunting shop he’d been in the day before.

“Thumb cuffs.” The assistant from yesterday pointed at Mike.

Embarrassed, he watched the sales assistant bend and reappear, placing a small box on the glass of the counter. “You wanted the keys, didn’t you?" he asked, flipping the box to see the price. “Can’t be very urgent though, if you left without them.”

Paying quickly, he exited the shop and made a beeline for his truck.

Mid afternoon, he returned to the cabin, with the good news in his hand.

“Thumb. Cuffs?” She read out the contents of the box, confused as to what he’d given her.

“No.” He took the box back and opened it, removing the plastic bag keeping the miniature cuffs rust free. The keys were separate and fell into his hand. “These.” He jangled the two tiny trinkets of freedom in front of her delighted face, resting the thumb cuffs down on the worktop so he could reach around her back.

Within no time, and as promised, the keys did their job of removing the cuffs from around her wrists, earning Mike an all-forgiving hug, where he was able to lift her by her board, inviting hips, to squash the soft orbs of her perfectly formed bum, onto the work surface behind her.

“Am I a bitch to you?" she asked, with her hands touching the sides of his face.

“No, why?”

“Well you’ve been nothing but kind to me, and this afternoon I just thought to myself about how much I’m asking of you.”

“Not a problem. I’m liking having you around," he reassured her, “Especially after you letting me make love to you like that, yesterday.” He smiled, pulling her parted thighs wider open against him, from the counter top, and letting her feel his primed erection.

“We can certainly do that again," she said, desperately passing the message on to him through the urgency of a kiss.

“But only if you need punishing again," he joked, playing on the subject of the moment.

Feeling her passion increase, Mike felt he was losing the dominant hand when she crushed his shoulders surprisingly tight inside the circle of her arms.

Lifting the woman that he hoped he could turn into his new clingy girlfriend, from the kitchen counter, he carried her to the bedroom area of the lodge, and lay her down, breaking their kiss off as she rolled back onto the bed.

Hands sprawled freely above her head, she acknowledged his suggestion of punishment, with a smile. “You’ve no idea how much I need punishing.”

“I’ll set up the rope.”

Springing into life, he skipped over to the kitchen quarter of the cabin, to retrieve the handcuffs.

“A much safer punishment would be for you to drag one of those chairs over here with you, and pull the bed down, so we can wedge it in the gap, like a temporary headboard”. She ingeniously suggested.

With her hands steadily resting on her stomach, she watched him grab a chair from the kitchen table, and skid it across the floor, in an almost choreographed duo sweeping dance move, which spun the two of them around, to come to rest with the chair back bumping against the side of the bed.

Facing her, he sat the wrong way around on the chair, to partition the couple by using the decorative wooden rods of the backrest. “Give me your hands," he told her.

She rolled around towards him and willingly offered her hands through the chair back, struggling to contain herself as her quivering body longed for the slightest touch of metal restraint.

Looking around at the practicality of her desperate inspiration, by jamming a chair between the wall and the bed, made him think that she might be gaining an addiction to this newfound sensation of submitting and being fucked in shackles.

The creaking sound of Mike standing, made her open her eyes, and look up at him, to hurry things along. “What are you waiting for?”

Mike clambered onto the bed, and knelt between the legs of his forgiven fugitive, to idolise over her lust for surrendering to him.

“Tell me why I should punish you?”

“Because I masturbated today," she laughed.

Amused, he pulled her raised knees towards him, dragging her wrists clear of the freestanding, unsecured chair.

“I’m glad to hear it, but what drove you to that?" he asked, pleasantly turned on by the learning of her having an unsatisfied sex drive.

Lowering her hands to hold his, she shared the feel of the cold steel as she gave her confession. “I was bored and had a flick through those ancient DVD’s of yours. I found a shit one with a cheesy woman looking like she was about to be bitten by a vampire, but when I looked on the back, it showed a picture of her chained up in a dungeon with her clothes all torn.”

Looking over at the TV and DVD player, he recognised the DVD she’d left out.

“Into vampires are you?”

“No, but I had to fast-forward to the scene. It reminded me of us last night.” Her eyes now locked onto his and her voice slowed to a husky tone. “She had her nipples showing through her ripped dress, and they were really hard. She was moaning with excitement, trying to rub them against her elbows, but her arms were chained too high, like mine yesterday. I kept thinking of what you did to me, and how frustrating it must have been for that woman to not be able to touch herself.”

“She’s an actress. With a camera crew in front of her, but if it did it for you, then she must be good at her job.” He smiled, almost ridiculing the girl he was falling in love with, “But if you think that warrants punishment, then get on your feet.”

Cuffs in one hand, he held out his other to help her climb up off the bed.

Before moving, her loins spasmed slightly at the thought of being hoisted up to a roof truss again. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just want to use something a bit more secure than the back of this freestanding chair, that’s all.”

Their short journey took them down all three steps of the split level cabin, stopping at the bottom, where he turned her to face him.

Utilising a sly kiss as his excuse to press her back against the banister, he squeezed her body tightly, whilst his tongue pillaged her throat, fondling her buxom booty with his hands, in a final act of uncontrollable passion.

“Cuff yourself.” He held up the handcuffs in front of her face.

Shocked, yet expectant of such an outcome from him picking up the metal clasps, she toyed with him by refusing, “ You do it," she whispered, with a look of delight on her face.

Free and unhindered, she allowed him to pass both her arms around one of the spindles of the banister, where she held them for their inevitable cuffing.

Ratcheting the handcuffs open, he mumbled one final safety check before feeding the manacles through the gap in the balustrades, behind her. “You Ok?”

Silenced by desire, and with pupils the size of dinner plates, she found the security to nod her head only twice.

Resisting the urge to lunge her mouth towards his, she concentrated on helping in the search for the rigid sensation of captivity from the very metal curves that he promptly brought about her wrist with a quick succession of clicks. Seconds later, the equal ratcheting, confirmed her immobility, and full dependence on the man she so much wanted inside her.

“What are you going to do?” She quietly asked.

“Explode," he joked, as she watched him press his hand against his almost uncomfortably throbbing erection.

He struggled with his intention of teasing her by denial, the idea that came to him because of her confession about masturbating over a woman being unable to touch herself.

Cupping her breasts, he thumbed her nipples, with his head in a stooped down position, to draw an admission from her, “Tell me that you love me, or I’ll let you go.”

“Ha ha ha ha," she laughed, “Not fair.”

Lowering his hand to grasp her tight bum cheek, he positioned himself by her side and brought his other hand down to brush against the centre of her shorts between her legs.

Being squeezed into their flattering, unforgiving denim mould, the generous fruits of her rear endured a happy discomfort, that successfully trained her body’s shape, until finding relief where her narrower thighs gave in to the stretch, and formed deep creases to form below each buttock.

At the resulting frontal inward curve, her bulging lower lips, parted by a strong stitched seam cutting through her middle, highlighted the folds of her lady flower, increasing the temptation of his difficult intention of sexual denial.

Tormenting her, he clawed his fingernail over the texture of the light blue, heavy-duty cloth, producing tiny vibrations over her lips that tingled so frustratingly against her pent up arousal.

“Not fair, is NOT being allowed to touch yourself.” Caught in her own trap of self-admission, she prayed that he wouldn’t just leave her like this.

“I don’t need to when I’m with you," she replied. “Come closer.” She beckoned him with a toss of her head, to bring his ear up to her lips. “You’re about to make me cum in my pants," she whispered, “And I think the same goes for you.”

The cheeky smile of her brilliant synopsis stood to make him look weak if he didn’t do something about it. On the one hand he could walk away and leave both their yearnings undealt with. On the other, he could give in to her irresistible attraction just this once, and deny her of any self-amusement, another time.

Moving his hands up from between her legs, he unfastened her shorts, and stood in front of her, ready to do the familiar dance against her hips, by pulling them down. Kneeling with his nose in her crotch, he could smell her readiness.

Pooling her clothes by her feet, he readied himself for the unpreventable outcome of the two experimenting lovers.

Bending his legs slightly, he held onto the banister behind her shoulders, matching the height of her on tiptoe, so he could enter the warm wetness that begged for his perfection.

The powerful sensation from her inability to stop him, created a moan of desperation for the up and coming ecstasy.

“You ok?” he checked.

“Yes. Please," she incoherently panted.

Her fingers fought to grab hold of the wooden spindle that took away her freedom, trying to match his rhythm as he encouraged her body up and down with the politeness, yet meaningfulness of each penetrating thrust.

Withholding her cries of ecstasy took toll on her face, where she screwed up her eyes and quivered her bottom jaw, advertising her approaching orgasm with involuntary muscular contractions around his overdue ejaculation.

Laura’s inevitable scream, gave way to releasing himself inside her, thrusting as far in as he could, and quivering his hips in time with her clenching bum cheeks as he pulsed his unstoppable seed into her womb.

Leaving her standing, he brought toilet paper from the bathroom and wiped up his mess before it dribbled everywhere.

“You won’t tell anybody about this, will you?" she asked, “I don’t want people thinking I’m some sort of deviant.”

“Definitely not!” He confirmed, “What would that make me if people found out?”

The couple shared a cheeky grin together, before her giddy excitement forced her to encourage him further, “So what are you going to do to me next?”

“Do you want out?”

“It’s up to you," she told him.

“Say please," he privately joked, hinting that this could become normal if they were to possibly have a future together.

Agreeing that they should probably take a breather, she conceded, passing the worthless single syllable through her lips, “Please.”

Turning around, she watched him retrieve the handcuff keys, then release both of her wrists.

“Can I use your phone?” Laura fought up her shorts as she asked, “I don’t think the agency will care that I didn’t turn up for work, probably have me replaced already. It’s just my parents I don't want worrying.”

“Sure you can.” He unlocked the screen and handed it over.

Standing outside for a better, uninterrupted signal, she had to search for her mum’s workplace to find the number before calling.

Their conversation proved interesting when she found out that her purse had been discovered, near to the club with her phone inside, but without any cash or bank cards, as though it had been stolen from the toilets where she left it.

Laura went along with the stolen purse theory, and apologised, telling her mum that she’d gone home with a dream guy she knew from the gym, and was safe with him.

When she hung up the call, she checked her bank account, to find that various withdrawals had happened in the early hours of that Sunday morning, up until the cards were stopped, due to incorrect pin activity.

“Fucking hell!” she said loudly to herself.

Hearing everything through the open window, Mike met her outside on the narrow veranda, to see if he could help.

“Dream guy?” he joked, accepting the handset back.

A safe, but cautious call to the police, confirming he’d received the message to contact them, from his mum, and that he was only ringing to say he didn’t see or hear anything, seemed a tactful way of enquiring about the wellbeing of the female police officer. The mention of the police woman in hospital, hit a dead end. She was never in a coma, and she’d been released on the Sunday morning, but couldn’t remember any details of how she got there.

Hanging up the phone, he sighed, deleting the fake news article he’d created, as he walked back into the cabin, eager to give Laura the good news.

“Looks like you’re in the clear," he announced, “That copper you hit, can’t remember a thing about it, and from what you’re saying, it sounds to me like the police never had your purse at all.”

Incredibly relieved, she hugged his chest for a short time before looking up at him and confirming her status.

“Does that mean I’m free to go?”

Pleased for her and for the fact that he was no longer harbouring a wanted criminal, he felt a sudden sense of rejection, like he was about to be jilted.

“You have always been free to go," he mumbled down to her, “I’ll give you a ride home whenever you want.”

His kiss through her hair felt so reassuring, and after her two days of worrying, meant she could squeeze him tighter, not wanting the moment to end.

“We should celebrate," she encouraged him.

The combination of steak and red wine, on top of his stress and early starts, had finished Mike off.

Literally, shagged out, he lay on the sofa between Laura’s homely legs, with his ear resting on the warmth of her crotch as she lay back against the cushioned arm, gently massaging his scalp with her fingernails.

At some stage of the evening, the enchanting handcuffs had somehow taken up residence on the coffee table in front of her, tempting the fear-tackling bad-girl, to have a proper feel and better acquaint herself, now that they weren’t being forced around her wrists.

Picking up the cool restraints and twiddling them around in her fingers, led to her clicking one of the jagged edged arms all the way closed, so that it swung back around, ready for another pass through the locking mechanism again.

Dead to the world, Mike slept through the noise, and Laura eventually drifted off, with the weight of the handcuffs warming themselves against her chest.

The alarm announcing six AM, soon silenced with the push of a side button in his pocket, and a groan of his head.

Turning to look down, he kissed the skin-tight denim, which guarded her precious honey pot, on top of which his head had spent the night keeping warm.

Climbing off her, he repeatedly kissed the soft skin of her inside leg, until he reached her knee, where he then stood, to get up.

The handcuffs had slipped off her chest in the night, and landed close to her flopped arms, looking like she’d attempted to put them on herself, but failed.

Hearing Laura wake with a sigh, he offered her breakfast.

“Do you mind if I have a shower first?” she asked.

Although she didn’t wash her hair, the delay once again made Mike late for work, but he didn’t mind. He wanted to be with her, rather than working on his own, out in the field repairing fences for the welfare of random wild and unappreciative animals.

“I’ll be back as quickly as I can tonight, and then we can hit the road," he promised her, confirming his offer of a lift home.

“Would you be in trouble if anyone found out I’d been here?” She smiled, confusingly, raising both hands to grab hold of his shoulders.

“No. I’m allowed guests. Especially very welcome guests like you," he pleased her, “You can stay as long as you want, and if you wish, we could continue exploring our equal desires.”

“Equal desires?” Biting the side of her lower lip, Laura smiled coyly, turning at the same time and walking over to the sofa to collect the shiny silver handcuffs. “You mean these equal desires?” She held the bracelets in front of him with huge pupils and a pounding heart, volunteering her body with a boost to his suggestion. “Fancy a quickie before you go to work?”

“That may get me into trouble," he smirked. “But I could be tempted if you’re going to put those things back on.”

He’d now called her bluff, giving her little choice other than going through with what she’d offered him, confident that he wouldn’t harm her if she did.

“Ok.” The novice submissive nodded, “I can do that.”

Preparing to stop her cuffing her hands in front, as soon as the first melody of clicks stopped, his voice pounced on her, “Don’t think so, honey!”

Being the consenting underdog who was putting herself out for his entertainment, she allowed no interruption, and quickly cuffed the second manacle around her wrist in front of her, before he had the chance to stipulate behind her back.

“Ok, have it your way," he agreed, reading how the huge smirk she wore told him this had been more than just a cleverly timed misunderstanding on her part.

“So how do you plan on enticing me to stay?”

“You are such a tease," he tried complimenting her.

Turning and stepping away, he picked up the bundled mess of climbing rope from under the kitchen table, and used scissors to cut off a short length of about two feet, then dump the rest on the floor.

More excited than nervous, neither he nor she spoke as he passed one end of the rope through the belt loops of her shorts, around her back, bringing the two ends to a close in front of her waist, where she could see him struggling with his fingers to tie the rope together.

As he attempted to pull the knot tight, she unnecessarily winced when the top of it touched painlessly against her stomach.

“Tell me to stop if it gets too much," he said, offering her the chance to back out of this simple piece of cord being wrapped around her waist, knowing she would be able to endure much more.

One eyebrow raised, she remained silent, showing her disbelief that he could accuse her of being such a prude.

As if planned, he reached for the thumb cuffs that had remained undisturbed on the kitchen worktop since they were unboxed, and constricted one of the metal clasps, tightly around the feeble excuse for a double knot he’d just fastened, satisfyingly rendering it impossible to untie.

“Ooooh. Be gentle," she joked, in tandem with the sound of the empty thumb cuff clamping closed around the centre chain of her handcuffs.

Lifting the cuffs up to demonstrate her new limits, he checked their security, by clamping both steel rings tighter around her wrists, so there could be no chance of slipping her hands through them.

“This rope will stop you removing your shorts and masturbating while I’m out, meaning that I’m enticing you to stay for some relief when I get home.”

“That’s not what I meant by enticing me to stay," she tried correcting him, “I meant what are you going to do to ensure I don’t just go home of my own free will?”

After a little thought Mike came back with another misunderstood reply, “I suppose a fencepost clamp around your ankle, attached to a chain might do the trick.”

“That’s a fair and practical suggestion, but why don’t you try thinking with your head, instead of your penis.”

Smiling in front of her, he kissed her lips hard, then pulled away quickly before it turned passionate.

“Hurry home," she breathed, “But first let me give you a clue. I would like you to give me something tonight," she bargained for some sort of romantic gesture.

“Ok. I’ll think of something," he nodded.

Alone and wearing the handcuffs again, felt different this time to how it had done the day before. No longer in trouble with the police, her emotions stirred up a strange feeling of apprehension and naughtiness inside her, given the knowledge that she had all day to entertain herself, until his return.

TV passed some of the time, but having her fingers held by the handcuffs, between her legs, would ultimately lead to only one thing.

Where the tight stitching of her shorts had become strained, showed off the original darker colour of the denim, enticing her curious fingers to stray down from where they were being held, and depress into the cloth’s tension. Her fingernails then began stroking the bulges of her lower lips, where the comforting tightness of her encased crotch, had enhanced their sensitivity, exaggerated further by the parting of this tough seam cutting through the middle.

She craved for a re-living of her moment from the previous day, where she’d fantasised about being the poor woman in the horror movie with her arms chained high above her head, rendering her unable to touch herself in any sexual way.

Laura · Part 2 (2/3)
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