Loves Darker Regions
By R Allen Cunningham
Edited by T S Pugh
Cover Art by T S Pugh
Published by Smashwords.com
This is a book of Erotic Fiction.
As such it is intended for Adult Consumption only.
It is a work of imagination.
It is not advised to copy any of the actions.
A Smashwords books published by arrangement with R Allen Cunningham
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © R Allen Cunningham
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Innocence Given
The WagerWager
The Kidnapping
The title of this collection - "Loves Darker Regions" - comes from the darker side of human nature that we all harbor in our souls, whether we admit it or not.
In this collection that dark side manifests itself, for the most part, in women being lead to acknowledge, and even embrace or desire, a deep need to be submissive to their male mate.
There are exceptions to this theme in some of the stories. Revenge has two male subs 'owned' by a female Domme. In Truck Stop Cutie Connie's love for her sisters, and the prominent betrayal by several men in their lives, leads her to seek their 'just' desserts on several men and to recruit several other women in this task.
And, since there is no ‘BDSM’ in Truck Stop Cutie, that's my excuse for including it in this collection.
As I write this note, I've just completed The Kidnapping, there for the ninth story of this collection. In these stories, I've tried not to use any one name more than once in all of the stories, although that did happen in Revenge.
All that was by way of saying that if you, the reader, can read this entire collection and honestly say you don't know even one person with one of these names, that would be truly remarkable.
All of which makes it easier to be believed when I say:
This is entirely a work of fiction and any resemblance between one of these characters and any actual person, living or dead, is pure coincidence.
Peace to all,
R Allen Cunningham
Innocence Given
She Wore a Collar.
Not just a web strap collar from Pet Smart. But a black leather collar with ¼” spots, chrome plated. Two between each of three 1½” chrome plated rings evenly spaced. There was a locking buckle at the back of the neck, with a further chrome spot between that and the ends of the collar.
The rest of her 'attire' was also all leather. All black. It consisted of a 3” belt with 5 evenly spaced 1½” chrome rings. The belt buckled in front. There were also two sets of cuffs, one wrist and one ankle. These were three tack cuffs with one 1½” ring on each. They also locked.
The black clad man approached her slowly, both to savor her ash-blond beauty and to further build her suspense, her apprehension. In his hands he held a mask, naturally of black leather. On the brick wall behind the St Andrews cross to which she was fastened hung a variety of whips, floggers, crops, paddles and canes. She'd seen them all, handled most of them, but never felt their kiss.
Yet.
In her mundane life she was Donna Marie Wilson, a 43-yr-old housewife married to the same truck driver husband for the last 23 years. And while she still loved Bill dearly, she'd realized after 23 years that she had needs, and desires, he couldn't fulfill for three reasons.
One: He was on the road so much of the time.
Two: Sex with him, while physically satisfying, was always missionary position with the lights off (he was such a prude.) and
Three: He had no idea there was anything like bondage or sado-masochism.
She hadn't known about Bondage and Discipline (B & D) or Sado-Masochism (S&M) until three years ago. She only knew she had vague, undefined needs and yearnings that life with Bill was unlikely to ever satisfy. Then one day while Bill was just on his way to Albuquerque she was 'surfing the net' (where she was “Shy One 1963”). She started following the links to one of the “Communities” she read and posted in. And came across the word “Bondage.”
“Bondage?! What's this?” she pulled it up and read. And explored. And dreamed. And looked at photos. And dreamed. And went to her bedroom to get one of her 'toys'. And masturbated. Several times.
Over the next few days she went back to the site several times, that one and others. Reading, absorbing, learning, dreaming, reading, masturbating (she ran down two sets of batteries in her toy). She found listings of “Doms” (Dominants). Most well out of range. But some fairly close by. She was considering how to justify an overnight trip from Bossier City, where she lived, to Alexandria to Bill when she saw the post from “Master Antonio.” His profile said he lived in Shreveport.
“Damn! That's just down the road!”
She read his profile and several others, near and far, to get an idea of terms and activities, options and responsibilities. And to help define her wants and needs.
She decided one day “This has gone on long enough. I'm a grown woman old enough to know my own mind. And heart. What can it hurt to talk to someone? Actually, physically, sit down over coffee and talk?”
So she did sit down to talk. To the computer, at least.
“Master Antonio (that's ridiculous! “Master” my ass!), I need information.” And she told him all about herself, her life, her discovery of the “lifestyle” and her needs and desires.
And then hit “delete.”
“I’m going to tell a perfect stranger all that about me?! Not likely!”
But, a week later she was back at the computer to try again.
She remembered nearly all of what she'd erased, added some, deleted a little. She read, re-read and proof read. And while she was proof-reading the third time her finger “unconsciously” hit “send.”
“Oh. Shit! Oh well, it's done now. But he probably won't reply. He'll just think it's some crazy woman with too much time on her hands, who's using too many batteries in her toys, that has nothing better to do than sit around the house while the kids are in school and day-dream. And he's not far wrong.”
Two days later, to her surprise (actually “shock”) and horror, she got a reply.
“Hello, Shy (she signed her emails and posts, “Hugs, Shy”). You sound interesting and I would like to meet you for coffee. I can be at the IHOP on Texas St tomorrow at 1:30. I'll wear” And he gave his ID code attire. “I'll see you then.”
“'I can be at the IHOP at 1:30!' Yeah, right! He thinks he can snap his fingers just like that and I'll be there. As though I might not have anything else to do.” Those were her thoughts as she locked the car in the IHOP parking lot at 1:18.
At 1:52 she was searching through her purse for change to pay for her coffee and the tip. She'd gone through 3 cups of coffee (black, 2 packets of sweet-n-low each), 4 cigarettes and a severe case of nerves.
“What the hell am I doing here? I'm gonna talk to some whacko about tying me up so he can beat me?! Donna, you are out o f your ever-loving mind! You seriously need help!”
There was a hand on her shoulder. A touch so light it took a second to be aware of it. “Shy? I'm Antonio. Hi.” He sat across from her, lit her cigarette and took one out for himself.
They made small talk, get acquainted conversation, about the weather, gas prices, Iraq, taxes, on and on and on until at 3:19 she said “Excuse me”, pulled out her cell phone, and called her house. “Hi, Honey. It's Mom. I'll be home in a while. I'm tied up in town. Do I need to get anything to bring home? No? Okay, love you. Bye.”
She hung up, put the phone away and said “Look, I've never done this before.”
“I know. What do you want to know?”
“I don't know. I don't know what I want to know. I don't know what I need to know... I don't know what there is to know. This is all, everything, new to me. Please, teach me.”
“Alright, first off is safety. We're not going to do anything we'll have to explain to the police or medical personnel. The motto is 'Safe. Sane. Consensual.' No matter whom you play with, always keep that in mind. You need two 'safe words' - something you're not going to say in extremis or passion.”
They decided on 'Justin', her son's name, for the safe word for 'I'm physically OK but something's going on here I need to talk about... this is near the edge of my envelope.' And for “STOP!! I can’t deal with this! Release me NOW!!” They decided on 'Carrie', her daughter's name.
They covered medical conditions (no weak joints, arthritis, heart and lungs OK, etc) “Feet last, feet first” (when she was to be put in restraints, for example, affixed to a St Andrews Cross, her feet would be the last points to be restrained and the first to be released), etc.
Finally, at about 4:00 he stood up, reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. It held his name, cell phone number, and email address.
“Look, you need to go home and let this percolate. You've got a lot to think about, decisions to make. I'll be back here next Thursday at 1:30. That's a lot of things you're fantasying about. Daydreams that make you wet (She felt herself blush). And that's good. Continue. But also think, decide. Of all the things you've seen and heard and dreamt, pick one or two activities you most want to do. Next week, after we leave here, I'll take you to my house and let you look at my dungeon. All that will happen is you'll be allowed to look and touch and ask. Even if you think then you want to do more it won't happen. Later, but not then. Are there any questions?”
“I'm so confused I don't know if I have any or not.”
“That's why you need to go home and let it all simmer. Another thing to think about is: no submissive ever has, or ever will, entered my dungeon wearing any more than wrist and ankle cuffs and a belt. Maybe a collar. Do you understand?”
“So I could wear, what? A large t-shirt into...?”
“Wear whatever you like to the house. But before you enter my dungeon you'll be wearing nothing but cuffs and a belt.”
“But I've never been naked with any man but Bill!”
“Then it's about time for a change, isn't it? I’ll see you next Thursday.”
She drove home, chatted with the kids while she fixed dinner. They all ate then the kids cleaned up in the kitchen while she checked the TV listings. They watched a couple of programs on Discovery channel. At 8:00 everyone went to their bedrooms, the kids to finish their homework and be in bed by 9:30, she to relax and read before she went to sleep.
Then, at about 9:15, her safe, sane, secure world exploded. “EXPLODED” is all caps, double space between each letter and ended with three, no four, exclamation points.
“Holy Shit! Sweet Mother of God! Blessed Mother McGurk!! What have I done?! What am I doing?! Can anyone tell me what I'm gonna do!?! I just met some stranger that told me that he's gonna have me naked in his home next week and God only knows what he'll do then! And me, fat dumb goose that I am, I'm just gonna go along with this?! And I'll be happy to see those nice young men in their clean white coats 'cause they're coming to take me away!”
After a panic attack that measured 5.8 on the Richter Scale she put her mind and world back together with a bottle of wine and long hot bath.
The following Thursday she was locking her car at 1:26. She carried a paperback book in her purse. One of Louis L'Amour's Sackett novels. Remembering last week, she'd wanted something to occupy her time until Antonio appeared. Looking around after she got inside she was surprised to see him already there.
“You keep a girl on her toes and off balance, don't you?”
“That's one of the reasons I'm a Dom and you're a sub. Now, I had just toast and coffee for breakfast so I will have a meal. But you're probably too nervous to have more than coffee and pie.”
“No, no. I'm fine, really. I'll have...”
“Pie. And coffee. I don't want your nervous stomach throwing up on my carpet. It would spoil the scene. The lemon meringue here is quite good.”
She sat back and looked at him, understanding he had taken 'command' of her. And, on reflection, finding it a pleasant feeling.
While they ate, they talked. About everything. Everything but what was going to happen later. No mention was made of that. He wouldn't allow it.
“There's time enough for that later.”
And while he didn't specifically say anything about it, by the end of the meal she was answering questions with 'yes, Sir' and 'no, Sir' and beginning her questions and answers with “Sir.” And she would remember this later at home and think “Just how did he do that?”
She followed him to his home in a rural neighborhood about 5 miles outside Shreveport's urban sprawl on the Northwest side of town. They parked in front of a two-car garage attached to a brown and tan brick south-western style ranch house. Unconsciously, she followed two steps behind and one to the right as they passed through a carved wooden door into a large living room done in a southwestern motif. After they'd spent some time with him explaining the meanings of the different artifacts, designs and their colors to her, he told her:
“Alright, let's begin. The bathroom is the first door on the right down that hall. There are coat hooks on the back of the door. Put everything you're wearing on them. You have seven minutes to get ready and return to me here. Then we'll begin your tour of exploration in the dungeon. Go.”
Seven minutes gave her time to remove her short shirt-dress and hang it on a hook to be followed by self-supporting silk stockings. Her shoes she placed next to the counter on the floor. She kept on her panties because, 'after all, this thong doesn't cover that much and this is my first time with any man other than Bill. Antonio shouldn't mind this once.'
She emerged from the bathroom wearing the black thong, cuffs and belt. Antonio had added a black leather vest to his camel-colored poet shirt and black jeans. She stopped a few feet short of him, rubbing her hands together nervously.
“Well, what's next?”
He watched her calmly until her hands quit fidgeting and dropped loosely to her sides.
“That's better. But still not right. Three things wrong here. One: You will show me the respect of proper address - 'What would you like next, sir?’ Two: When you don't have specific instructions as to what I want you to do, or you're not in restraint, your normal position is at the military 'attention.' You are familiar with that position, correct? Good. Assume it now. Do not move until I say. (He disappeared behind her. She heard a kitchen drawer open and close.) And three: I said you would be naked. (She felt the elastic at her hips lift away and the ‘snick’ of scissors close. He'd cut off her thong). There will be punishment for this. Follow me.”
He went down the hall to a door on the left, opened it and went through, she following. They went downstairs to the basement where she had time for a quick look before Antonio quietly said “Attention.”
She immediately snapped to.
Antonio brought her wrists together behind her back and connected them by the cuffs.
“You may begin to look around here, to explore, and to ask any questions you may have. But your wrists, fastened behind, will help you remember punishment is to follow. Begin.”
Master Antonio's dungeon was as large as the outside walls of the house. The furnishings she understood, or figured out, by herself. There was a tiltable piece of plywood on a wooden frame with rings set around the edges for a sub to be fastened spread-eagle. There was a spanking bench (Antonio explained it to her), two bishop's chairs, St Andrew's Crosses, various suspension devices and a Spanish Pony. All the wood was either padded in black leather or sanded and varnished.
When she had looked at everything, he said “Follow me” and led her over to the Spanish Pony. It was a 9-foot length of 2”x 6” oak suspended from the ceiling horizontally with the top edge rounded off, smoothed and varnished. Leaving her there he went to the stairs, pressed a button on the wall (she heard a bell upstairs) and came back to her. Releasing her wrists he told her to straddle the board and refastened her wrists together – but this time over head.
As he was finishing getting her 'nether lips' arranged to his satisfaction (either side of the pony leaving her clitoris in direct contact) the door from upstairs opened and three people came down - another Dom and two more subs.
“Shy, this is Lord James and his sub Sarah (James touched the black-haired beauty on the shoulder and she immediately knelt at his feet) and my resident sub Dawn.” The red-head dipped her head to him and murmured “Sir”, then resumed her position of 'attention.'
“Lord James has arranged to use my facilities here for further training of his sub. Dawn has been collared to me for the last 12 years. In the vanilla world we've been married for the last nine and a half. Both females are bisexual and they will assist in your punishment this evening. You were so shy about being seen naked by just me I know this will be painfully embarrassing and humiliating for you. Dawn and Sarah are going to make love to you and assist you to enjoy your first pony ride. Girls, begin.”
Dawn stepped forward as Sarah quickly looked up at James for permission. She went to Donna's right side as Dawn was on her left. With their hands and mouths they explored Donna's whole body from her knees up. The girls gave her all the love and passion they could arouse and, no matter how she begged and pleaded, she couldn't get them to stop. Nor could she stop her hips from rocking back and forth and side-ways on the pony. The girls played her body like a violin, regulating her responses to an ebb and flow like the tides. Finally, after 20 minutes they allowed her the most mind-shattering release she'd ever known.
She was left limp, exhausted, gasping for air and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Her heart was racing but her mind was blank.
Donna was vaguely aware of Antonio ordering the girls to a spot on the carpeted floor in front of her and to kneel facing each other. Then Antonio was telling her “We'll give you a few minutes to recover because I want you fully aware of what happens next. But while Lord James and I explore that beautiful body for ourselves you will observe the girls make love to each other.”
With that the men went back upstairs for a cigarette while the girls remained motionless and silent where they'd been left.
While they waited for the men to return and she recovered her senses, Donna began thinking about what she'd just experienced. “My God that was incredible! I never thought such a thing was possible. Never even dreamed it! I just wish I could share it with Bill.”
When the men returned they immediately stepped over to her as Antonio told the girls “Begin.”
They were on each other like two starving tigresses onto a gazelle. They came together with such force Donna expected to see bruises later. They did things to each other Donna had never dreamed of. Or even thought possible. While she was watching them she was hating and loving the feel of two sets of strange male hands exploring her body. She thought of Capt James T Kirk of Star Trek: “Boldly going where no man has gone before!”
Poor old Bill. He just didn't know what he was missing.
After all three girls had reached orgasm with crystal-shattering screams James and Antonio released Donna from her pony ride, laid her face down on the carpet and fixed her wrists behind her. Then each attached his sub to a bishop's chair and blind-folded her.
Antonio told her “This has been your first lesson in obedience. There is usually a nominal fee for lessons. Since we hadn't talked about it beforehand there is none for this time. But you will still be required to pay. First you will give oral sex to each of the girls in turn, and then to Lord James and I. Begin.”
Slowly and awkwardly she got on her knees. She sat back on her heels, looking from one girl to the other and then at Antonio. “Sir, you can't be serious. I've never...Glp!!” her protest was cut off as James and Antonio stepped over to her to grab her upper arms and drag her over to Sarah.
“Sir! Please! I've never mmupft!” James pushed her nose into a crotch bisected by a vertical stripe of black fuzz. When she still didn't do as ordered James and Antonio began pinching and twisting swollen nipples. She admitted defeat and set to work.
At least at first it was “work.” After a bit she thought: “This isn't as bad as I'd expected.” Then “not bad at all.” Finally “I can't believe it's taken me this long!”
When she finished off Sarah she eagerly moved over to Dawn to repeat the process. Then she waited while the men took their turns. (This was one thing Bill did allow outside the “norm” and she did have some experience of it. But before now she'd never really enjoyed it.
After three months of every-other week sessions with Antonio and Dawn, sometimes with them alone, and sometimes with others. Donna found herself bound to the St Andrew's Cross after having heard someone else use her voice and mouth to say “I want to experience the pain of a flogging. Please, Sir, will you do this for me?”
To which Antonio replied “I'd been wondering when you'd reach this point. Our next session.”
Driving home after her “flogging” session, Donna had three thoughts:
One: She was glad Bill wasn't due back for four days. It would give her marks time to fade away.
Two: who knew she could orgasm and that fiercely, from a flogging?
Three: Master Antonio and Dawn had mentioned several times they were looking for another submissive.
All she had read and heard and seen and learned and experienced over the past few months had awakened a raging animal deep within her soul. She had wants and desires and 'needs' life with Bill could never begin to quench. He was a good, honest, kind man. But he couldn't begin to touch the heart-wood of her soul.
Six weeks later, after a flogging session involving Master Antonio and Dawn plus Lord James and Sarah plus two other Doms and their subs, with her hands and feet still bound, she crawled over to Master Antonio to beg “Please, Sir, I need to talk to you and Dawn.” Omitting nothing, she poured out her heart and soul. She told of her deep love for Bill and, of course, her kids. But also of her deeper core needs in the 'life style'.
And of how she'd decided, no realized, she couldn't continue life with Bill. Even if it meant giving up the kids.
Antonio and Dawn listened, giving her their undivided attention, each asking probing questions. When she'd finished Antonio asked “Are you sure about all this?”
“No, Sir. I'm absolutely certain of it. I know I need this as much as I need food and water and air. If you two accept me, I'll probably come to you with no material goods other than my clothes. But I'll come to you with my love and heart and soul.
William Alan Wilson, a truck driver for Bosser City Cartage, parked his rig in the company yard and closed out his logsheet for this run. He was three hours late getting in because of a flat tire just outside of Round Rock, TX. The extra time had given him space to think and worry about Donna, his wife. The last couple of weeks she'd seemed far away in her thoughts, distracted. But at the same time quicker to anticipate his wants and needs. Refill his coffee cup, knowing when he'd finished his beer and accurately judging whether or not he'd want another. And even in bed she was more willing to suggest and try new things. And seemingly bringing new skills to old things.
Bill decided it was time to sit down and talk things over.
There was a letter on the seat of his TV-watching easy chair; “Dearest Bill, the kids are spending the weekend at Mom's. I'm sorry but I'm leaving. I still love you but I have to go.
Donna.”
The Itch
Author's Note
The following story is fictional, as far as I know. But it could be true – all or in part. If true, all or in part, is why I've chosen not to name “Him” and “Her”.
The main characters could be someone known to the reader. Your co-worker, your neighbors, your cousins, Aunt & Uncle, your parents. Possibly you.
May the Story spark discussion, ideas, fantasies.
Enjoy.
It was the itch. The itch was holding her back from her total focus, from being able to completely get into her “sub-space” - that trance-like zone when time lost its meaning and import.
Not being able to see a clock and not wearing a watch (not that she could have seen either of them for wearing the black leather hood), she had no way of knowing how long she'd been in this position. But she trusted him not to keep her here too long. Although “too long” was subjective. To her, being bound in a kneeling position with her chin inches from her knees and wearing that hood, 20 minutes was infinitely longer than to him as he was “Playing” with one of his girlfriends. Singly or in multiples.
But, so far, he hadn't left her in one position so long her cramps had lasted more than five or six minutes after he'd released her.
They'd been married for 11 years, a second marriage for both. They'd met at a “Swinger's Club” in the nearest city large enough to have one. It was a Friday Night singles party where they'd run across one another. He'd been attracted to her thick raven-haired beauty. She'd stopped to admire his 'California surfer boy' blond looks. It stood out in this Mid-Western area. They'd sat in the dance area for two hours over sodas talking. About everything and nothing. Along about 1:45 he'd looked at his watch and said, “Well, I need to be getting on home to Carson.” She'd put her hand on his arm and, with a level look, said “Home to where?”
“Home to Carson. It's about fifty-five...”
“I know exactly where it is. It's 57 miles south of here; I have an apartment overlooking the river there. Two blocks down stream from the Wilson Street Bridge.
“I'll be damned. My home is uphill a bit from the Meemaw River, a half mile upstream from the 43rd St Bridge.
“I know that area. I'm an insurance agent and quite a few of my clients live around there.”
He told her “Well, look, here's my business card. I'll just put my home phone on the back. The business phone and cell phones are on the front. I have a lawn care business there.”
“Ok. And here's my card. I've already got my cell on the back, just in case I got lucky,” said with a smile.
Over the next several months they'd met for lunch and coffee, a few times for drinks after work and dated several times, both at the Club and away from it. Having met at the Swinger's Club, they both knew this would never be an exclusive relationship. And they were easy with that.
On one of his Friday over-night stays he discovered the wrist and ankle cuffs she'd “accidentally” left out. Then he thought of other things he'd seen: hooks and eye-bolts set into the door frames. Web straps tucked under the bed at the corners. A fur-lined eye mask she'd said was to help her sleep for an afternoon nap.
As he was standing there absorbing what he'd found, he heard a soft cough behind him. He turned to see her standing naked with her back to him. She was wearing only a set of wrist and ankle cuffs, a collar and her mask. She held her wrists behind her back, ready to be linked together.
A soft voice said “Please, Sir, let me be your plaything.”
Pausing four seconds, he linked the cuffs together then turned her slowly around to face him. He'd never seen the nipples on her B-cup breasts so firm and hard as now. The chain-link leash that hung from her collar fell between them and swayed sensuously over her neatly trimmed pubic patch. And he'd never before now seen it glisten so freely with its love juice.
As he admired the helpless beauty before him a voice heavy with pleading passion breathed out “Please, Sir, what is your pleasure?”
He took the chain in his hand at her navel and trailed it down the rest of its length to the leather loop at the end, pressing her receptive flesh the whole way and pausing on her pubic mound to feel her shiver uncontrollably.
Not wanting to miss any of this new visual pleasure, he walked backwards into the living room to watch her every move, each step. He seated her on the end of the coffee table with her knees spread. “What do you have for me to restrain you with?”'
“Sir, I have an assortment of web straps in the kitchen.” She told him which drawer.
“You'll remain here till my return. Do not move.”
With more haste than appropriate for a “Dominant,” he dashed from the room in search of the correct drawer.
Three minutes later he was standing in the doorway of the living room, silently watching her. She hadn't moved from where he'd left her though, if anything, her knees were three or four inches wider apart. And there did seem to be a little more “shine” to her pubic slit.
In the time it took to observe her he realized that before he'd linked her wrists together, she'd been tense and stiff. Afterward, he'd heard a soft sigh as she relaxed.
She'd been afraid he'd reject her offer, her request, her gift.
Kneeling between her knees he fastened her ankles to the end legs of the coffee table. Then, releasing her wrists, he laid her back and fastened them to the opposite legs.
At the end of an hour and 37 minutes when he released her from her restraints, they'd both spent three times; gloriously, magnificently, explosively, tremendously spent complete with thunder and lightning bolts.
When he released her ankles her knees simply fell further apart and lay limply. When he released her wrists her arms simply came forward and down and fell off the sides of the coffee table. With his remaining strength he helped her to sit up, removed her mask and supported her to the bedroom, where they both collapsed onto the bed and fell into a profound sleep. For several hours. She regained consciousness by feeling her head lifted up and her mask returned to its place over her eyes. She started to ask what was going on when she realized she was still naked but now spread-eagled on what she assumed was her bed. She guessed it was still him and they were still alone. But, since there were no voices, she wasn't sure.
She heard a dresser drawer open and close, then a soft buzzing hum. She thought “What's he got now?” Then she said “Oh, yes!” She felt him insert her favorite toy, the vibrator with the “Rabbit” in the proper slot. He spent quite some time playing with the speed, varying between dead slow up to “Oh my GOD!!” and back down. Twice he withdrew it completely. Once tantalizingly slowly, making her beg for its return. And once abruptly, cruelly, viciously, making her scream.
And still, through it all, he never spoke.
At the end of what he later told her had been two-and-a-half hours she heard the sounds of zippers being zipped and clothes drawn on. The front door to her apartment opened, a pause, and then it closed. A glass of water was drawn in the kitchen, placed on her dresser, then her head lifted again as her mask was removed. The only light allowed into the room was from a lamp in the living room. But it was still enough to make her blink.
He released first one arm and handed her the water after she'd risen up on her elbow. He released both feet in passing on his way to the other arm. Then he took her empty glass, placed it on the dresser and sat beside her on the bed.
She asked “Who was here?”
“Do you think I needed help to do what we just did?”
“I heard the sounds of more than one person.”
“So? It could have been just me. I won't ever tell who, if anyone, was here. It'll be just one of those “mental itches” you'll never satisfy. It'll always worry you.”
“You son of a bitch. You probably won't ever tell me, will you?”
That had been six months into their relationship.
Nine weeks after that he'd gotten to work on a Friday morning to a blinking light on his answering machine. Her “sub” voice said “Please, Sir. Tomorrow is your birthday. I've made arrangements for a special surprise for you tonight. Please arrive at my apartment tonight promptly at 7:30. Please come hungry, in all senses of the word.”
His concentration was ruined for work the rest of the day and he was glad it was going to be relatively slow. As he was locking the door to go home at 5:15 he was thinking “That lovely wench is going to pay for messing up my work day like this.”
At 7:36 he was using his key to her apartment to let himself in. After his shower he'd dressed carefully for tonight's festivities. All black, from his western boots to his socks, jeans, silk shirt and t-shirt. Even his thong underwear.
In the weeks since she'd introduced him to “the lifestyle” he'd read everything he could find on it. They'd found mutual friends that had instructed him, and them, on certain aspects of it. Under supervision, they'd both learned to enjoy it.
“Well,” he thought, “She may have a surprise for me tonight, but that's ok. I've got a couple for her, too.”
He was led through the living room into the dining room by the flickering light of candles. And the smell of musk incense. There was soft classical music on her stereo.
As he entered the room he first saw the table beautifully set with flowers, linen napkins, sparkling silverware, and gleaming china. Jason, a friend of theirs, stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his arms folded over his black t-shirt clad chest. This tucked into black jeans. She and Brenda, one of Jason's subs, knelt on the floor before Jason and one to either side. Both women wore only their collars and wrist and ankle cuffs. Plus they both were two silk scarves each. One worn as a breech cloth drawn up between their legs and tied in place by being looped over a slim belt, front and back. The second scarf was around the back of the neck, criss-crossed in front to cup the breasts and tied in back. Her scarves were deep navy blue while Brenda's were gold to set off her red hair.
Both subs knelt, heads bowed. Brenda's arms down at her sides while She held her arms up to offer him a rum and coke drink. When he accepted it her arms immediately dropped to her sides.
The two men greeted each other and shook hands. Then Jason retrieved his drink from the kitchen, a 7 & 7. They then sat down while the women served dinner. It was a salad followed by steak with baked potatoes with all the trimmings, green beans with bacon bits and steamed carrots. And a never-ending cup of coffee. This was followed by fresh cobbler warmed up and topped with a scoop of ice cream.
As they ate they caught up on each other's lives since they'd last seen one another. As they talked he asked “Where is Carla?” (Jason's other sub.)
Jason told him “She's here. She's a big part of this evening's plans. Don't worry about it for now.” He had been noticing that when not otherwise occupied one or the other of the women would disappear through the living room door behind him. When the sub returned she would nod to Jason who would nod or smile back.
After the table had been cleared both subs disappeared into the living room but reappeared seconds later, having left their top scarves behind. They then sat astride the men's laps, Brenda on his lap and She on Jason's. After 10 minutes of playing with the breasts in front of them and the magnificent body to which they were attached, Jason said “Now we need to go into the bedroom where more desert awaits us.”
After She stood up from Jason's lap she turned her back to him, brought her wrists together behind her and Jason linked them together. Brenda stood and did the same with her wrists. He immediately linked them together, also. Then the subs led them all into the bedroom.
Carla was bound spread-eagled on the bed. She was naked, wearing her collar and a black-leather hood, from under which her long brown hair fell out. She had a pineapple ring circling the nipple of each b-cup breast. There was a trail of pineapple rings from between her breasts leading down to and covering her shaven pubic mound. There was a can of whipped cream sitting on the bedside night stand. Jason used it to fill in each ring. He put it back on the nightstand and, picking up a bowl of cherries, placed one in the center or each ring. Putting the bowl back on the nightstand, Jason looked at him and said “The girls haven't eaten yet. I think it’s time they had a snack. Don't you?”
“I do indeed. I think they served quite well, it was a wonderful meal and they both deserve a little treat.”
“Girls, begin,”
Wrists still bound behind, they went one to each side of Carla, crawled up on the bed beside her, knelt and began to eat. Starting with Carla's breasts, working down from there to the “Promised Land” at the junction of her legs. When they got to the “Golden Ring” over Carla's pubis, there was a laughing struggle to see who got it. They finally divided it between them, being careful to clean each other's faces after.
Jason got a couple of damp wash cloths and, giving him one, began to wash Her face while He did the same to Brenda. Then both men turned their attention to the bound sub on the bed, paying close attention to her most sensitive areas.
When they'd finished Jason returned the washcloth to the bathroom.
As Jason returned to the bedroom he was saying “Your sub tells me you've several times expressed a desire to see my two at play. Carla was chosen to be the main offering tonight because she got a raise and promotion at work and deserves a reward. Brenda was not chosen because for the last two mornings she's burned the toast. Her punishment is left for you to decide. Now, I'll borrow your sub for about an hour in the living room and leave you three alone in here. I understand you can do evil things on that coffee table. Need help, holler.”
And with that they disappeared through the doorway.
He turned his attention to the two submissives. Brenda had assumed the kneeling sub position with head bowed. Carla was naturally still bound and spread. Due to the attention she'd just received her breathing was heavier than usual and her body was covered in a light sheen. Her labia were flushed and swollen, her nipples were hard and erect and her neck was flushed. He told Brenda “Stand.” As she did so he asked “How long has Carla been in this position?”
”Since about 5 minutes before your arrival, Sir. That's why she and I kept disappearing during dinner, Sir. It was to check on her well-being.”
He looked at Carla's hands. They weren't turning red or swelling.
Turning back to Brenda he removed her loin cloth and told her “Make love to Carla.”
“Sir, may I have the use of my hands?”
“No. Begin.”
Brenda got onto the bed and, kneeling over, first began by French kissing. Then she slowly worked her way down Carla's body, spending time kissing, tonguing and nibbling Carla's breasts and nipples. Slowly she worked her way from there down Carla's stomach to the ”Y” where she dined sumptuously. Finally Carla's head began tossing back and forth and side to side, her body began to tremble and shiver, her fingers and toes started to clench and release and she began to moan, low and throaty at first and building to a scream.
Brenda sat back and, with a glistening smile, watched her girlfriend.
After a bit he told Brenda “Back on the floor and assume your position. This time spread your knees further apart.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He sat beside Carla on the bed and spent a few minutes playing with that beautiful, lithe body. Then he released her and told Brenda to stand. He released Brenda's wrists and had her take Carla's place on the bed, complete with blindfold. Then he told Carla “Get on the bed and make love to her. But don't let her come until Sir Jason comes in and gives you permission. That should be in about 30 minutes. Begin.”
Brenda moaned and Carla began.
By the time Jason returned about 45 minutes later with her in tow, Brenda was almost delirious with desire and raw need. Twice he'd had to tell Carla to pause. Brenda's head was rolling side to side on the pillow, her hands were clenching and releasing spasmodically, her chest was heaving, she was moaning and mumbling incoherently.
When Jason entered he stood at the foot of the bed to watch for several minutes. Then he quietly told Carla “Alright. You may finish her off.”
And with that, Carla set to work in earnest. Seconds later Brenda erupted in a scream that had the others worried about calls to 9-1-1 from the neighbors.
When Brenda had subsided, Jason patted Carla's butt and told her, “Well done. I've never seen her do that before.”
Carla looked up at him with the smile of one who has pride of workmanship and said “Thank you, sir.”
Jason looked at him and asked, “Well, was that your punishment?”
“No. That was my pleasure. For punishment, didn't you once tell me...”” and he stepped over to whisper in Jason's ear.
Jason smiled broadly and said, “As a matter of fact, I do recall having said that. And it’s absolutely true. Shall we get her set up for it? And who will do the deed? You or me?”
“I will after you and I have a smoke and another cup of coffee.
Carla, you'll serve. (Pinching his sub's nipple) and you'll remaining
here on watch.”
Once seated at the table he told Carla “I'll
have another piece of that warmed-up- cobbler with ice cream, also.”
Carla said “Yes, Sir.” (Looking at Jason) “And you, Sir?”
“That sounds good,”
A half hour later they returned to the bedroom. Brenda had dozed off in exhaustion. When Jason started releasing her left foot while he released her right she started awake.
After they'd released Brenda's wrists, they had her get up on her knees and place her wrists down by her ankles. Right to right, left to left. They then attached each wrist to its ankle and drew them further apart by attaching them to the bed's corner restraints.
Then he removed a tube of KY Jelly from a dresser drawer and began applying it to, and massaging, her anus.
As Brenda realized what was going on, and what was going to happen, she began moaning “No. Oh, no! Please Sir! Don't! Not that! Please Sir! No!”
He just told her “Sir Jason told me I could choose your punishment. I chose this in front of these others. This will also be recorded with a camcorder so Jason will have it for whatever use he sees fit. Now be silent.”
She sobbed quietly as he finished his preparations.
Twenty minutes later he groaned out his pleasure while Brenda moaned hers. It wasn't painful to her, just humiliating, making it even more pleasurable to her.
At the end of the evening when they were about to leave for home Jason decided that, since it was a pleasant spring night, it was 12:30 am and they all lived five miles outside of town, his girls would wear only their 'slave girl' outfits (their scarves) and the moccasins they'd worn into town. Their street clothes he had them leave behind in bags provided by their hosts.
After the guests had gone he turned to her. She was still naked but for her restraints, her wrists still behind her. He told her, “A few days ago I made some preparations of my own for this evening. Now's the time for you to learn what they are.” And they returned to the bedroom.
He freed her hands and had her stretch out on the bed face down with two pillows under her hips. The bottom one he placed horizontally and the second he folded over and put atop the first, thus giving a little extra added height to her ass. Then he attached her cuffs to the corner ties and pulled her out tight.
“Day before yesterday I stopped by Jim Wilson's toy shop on my way home form work. (She moaned.) That's correct. A couple of floggers, a couple of canes, paddles and a riding crop. And a new set of restraints. Now we will begin.”
And he did.
He started out by selecting one of the floggers, the one he called “the stinger.” It consisted of 15 thonging laces attached to a 2” wooden dowel 9” long and covered with leather. Each lace had 26” hanging off the handle.
He first just laid the length of the laces on her back up and down her spine. Then drew it ever so slowly downwards to fall off her ass onto the bed with the ends just tickling her cleft. He did this several times before giving her ass cheek a stinging smack, first the left then the right. He alternated his strokes between the sensuous strokes and the stinging nips. Then he began alternating with his “instruments”, now using a cane, now a paddle, a flogger, the crop, a cane, a paddle, and on and on till she no longer cared which he was using. All she knew or cared was how great it felt and the heat building in her loins.
And then he stopped. Suddenly. Abruptly. With no warning.
When she realized he wasn't going to touch her again for awhile, she sobbed. And began rocking her hips furiously on the pillow. Or as best she could due to being tied down. And the pillows weren't quite in the right place for her to “Scratch her itch.”
He watched her stress and strain until her frantic efforts began to subside. Then he inserted her “Rabbit Tip” into its proper receptacle and turned it on full.
Minutes later she was moaning and groaning and shaking the bed in her released passion.
When her tremors had subsided he released her wrists, then her ankles and told her “I have two more items for you. Get up.” He went into the living room and returned shortly with two plastic bags. He opened one and told her - “Here, put this on.”
He handed her a pair of black thongs with a built-in clitoral vibrator. After she had put them on and turned completely around to model for him he reached into the second bag and said “Take off your wrist cuffs and put these on.” It was set of leather wrist to thigh restraints. After she had the thigh bands in place and he'd affixed her wrists in them he told her to get into bed. He undressed, turned off the lights, and joined her. He kissed her and said. “Goodnight, Darling. Oh! One other thing.” He reached down between her legs and turned her vibrator on 'low'.
“Just another itch you can't scratch. Good night, Honey.”
He went to sleep and she lay there frustrated.
She wanted to talk and he snored.
She wanted to plead and he “murmphed” and rolled over.
She wanted to cry and he “snurfed” and slept on.
After an hour she finally dozed.
But she did awake to the smell of fresh coffee and bright sunshine coming through open dining room windows and a run down battery. And when she went into the living room to ask him to please release her hands so she could go to the bathroom, she was greeted by the sight of him and his foreman having a business breakfast.
The two men looked up at her and smiled. She put her forehead on the door jamb and moaned “Oh, no!” He told her to come on in and he'd release her. “Honey, you know my foreman, Tom Becker. And this is my little Darling. There you go. Now go to the bathroom and you can rejoin us. (To Tom) She just woke up, you know.”
Ten minutes later she was back at the table with them having gone to the bathroom, brushed her hair and teeth, gone to the bedroom to remove her leatherwear and put on a robe.
After Tom had left she told him “This relationship is going to be more interesting than I realized.”
“That it will be. For both of us.”
For their wedding they decided to hold it at the club where they'd met. They'd asked around and learned that one of their friends there was an ordained Minister through the Universal Life Church. Then they made arrangements with the club's owner for use of the facilities. The club opened early that Friday afternoon and the event was attended by 52 of their friends in the Life Style. Jason served as Best Man while Brenda and Carla were both Maids of Honor. The women wore white high heels, with self-supporting silk stockings and white leather corsets with crotch straps pulled tight. The maids carried a single black leather rose while she carried a bouquet of 12. She also wore a white veil. She also wore a white leather collar and wrist and ankle cuffs. The female subs in the audience were naked, wearing only cuffs and collars. They knelt on the floor beside their Masters.
The photographer had a problem at first concentrating on his job. But he settled down after a bit when he'd gotten used to the scene.
She also wore a vibrating butt plug set on low speed.
And now, 11 years later, they were celebrating their anniversary. They were back in the club. She was naked but for the hood. She was wearing her collar, cuffs and a belt. He'd placed her on a coffee table in one of the private rooms with her wrists bound behind. And he had her taking on all comers. For either vaginal or oral sex for either males or females.
And the butt plug, set on low speed, was causing an “Itch” she couldn't get to to satisfy.
The Christmas Gift
He had promised Brian a gift.
A Christmas gift that Brian would remember the rest of his life.
One that, on his death bed, he would remember and look back on and smile.
At the time Sean had made the promise he had no idea what this gift could possibly be. But since Brian had just saved his life, Sean could do no less.
Sean and Brian had been best friends since they were kids in junior high school. They'd played baseball, basketball, and football and run track together. Everything two boys growing into young men could do together, they did it.
Including joining the Army together. Went in on the “Buddy Plan.” Left for Boot Camp and Advanced Training for Artillery. After artillery school and a last leave at home they found themselves in Afghanistan.
Then one morning on crawling out of their bunker after a mortar attack, Brian slapped Sean on the back and said “Say, Buddy, we really screwed up this time, didn't we?”
Six weeks later, four days before Christmas, their unit had been on patrol to see what they could find. And they found someone with one hand grenade too many. And he gave it to them. Sean was looking to his left when it came in from the right, where Brian was watching. Someone in back yelled “Grenade!” and Brian, in back of Sean, dove on top of him. Brian took some shrapnel in his legs and right arm, his backpack covering his back. Being under Brian, Sean was unharmed.
And that was when Sean made his promise. “I don't know how or when or where. But I will make you a Christmas present to beat all presents. Because you just saved my ass, Buddy. And I won't ever forget it.”
Brian just smiled, or tried to, and said “Well, finding a present to equal saving your sorry ass won't take much, will it?”
Four and a half years later, Sean and Brian had both been discharged from the Army and were back in Civilian life. Sean had married his girlfriend Maria, and Brian had married Denise. Naturally, it was a double wedding.
During their time of dating and discussing their plans for the future, Maria had brought up the subject of “Polyamoury.” She explained it was the concept of openly, honestly and completely being deeply in love with more than one person at a time. It was the idea that any one person could be just as deeply committed to more than one other as they could to just one other.
Sean thought about it and asked “So, like you wouldn't mind if I had an affair, Is that it?”
“Yes, I would. If you ever did that to me I'd be highly pissed and you'd wake up one day really hurtin'! I'm not talking about swinging. And I'm sure as hell not talking about cheating! I'm talking about love. The same love we have for each other we can both have for another. Or for more than one other.
“People don't fall in love on command and we don't fall out of love on command, either. Both processes take time to come about and evolve. But, if given permission, it can happen. If we just let it. We could find another person, or couple, we could fall in love with. If we just admit it's possible and let it happen.
“Will you at least think about it?”
“Wow! This isn't the usual conversation a couple about to be married has, you know. But, gosh, I'll think about it. It's just a lot to think about. Just give me some time on it, OK?”
“Take your time, Baby. We've got our whole lives to work it out.”
After he'd given it some serious thought, Sean decided it was doable. When they did find another couple Sean was afraid it would take him some time to work through what jealousy issues arose. But he felt like he could handle it OK eventually.
When he told Maria about his decisions she was quite happy but not surprised. “I thought you could do it,” was all she said about it. And they moved on to other things. Such as where they would live.
“You've met Vernon a few times, Mom's dad. Well, for our wedding present he has several rental houses, all really nice, and he wants to give us one of them. It's a three-bedroom with a basement, attic, den and two-car attached garage.
“Paul - you know - my grandfather, wants to furnish it for us. I guess it's sort of Paul's way of making up for Dad being such a drunken ass-hole all these years. What do you think?”
“Well, Honey, it sounds great! But could we, or I, at least see the house first, before we move in?”
“Of course. I'll get the keys from Vernon and will show it to you day after tomorrow when we get off work.”
Eight weeks later they'd been married, gone on the honeymoon and been living in 'domestic bliss' for a week when Maria called Sean at work on a Friday afternoon to ask him to stop on the way home to pick up a few things for a special meal that evening.