Bound to Dance

The following is based on true events. Names have been changed to protect the innocent, and not so innocent.

*

Night slowly spread its velvet cloak across the mountain valley. As the evening's chill began to take hold, campfires began to sprout in the mountain valley. It was summer in the mountains, which meant the Medieval Recreation Group, or MRG, was at war again. Originally started by some college students, the MRG regularly got together to re-enact medieval wars by day and party hard by night. It was time for Summer War, and now some 1500 medievalists had gotten together doing what they did best--fighting hard and playing harder.

My lady and I were among them. As the day's heat began to fade, we made our way, along with many others, to the Dancing Goat Tavern. Passing through the entrance arch, we were immediately assaulted by a wave of warmth and merry noise. Mongols chatted with Vikings. Serving wenches in bodices wove their way through the throng, delivering mugs of beer or mead, and everywhere the golden glow of candlelight lent its warm glow throughout.

Grabbing a couple of passing tankards, I took in anew the woman at my side. Her lush figure, as usual, threatened to escape from the tight lacings of her bodice; her coal black hair hung in a firm braid down to her waist. Her show collar with its triskel medallion glinted in the candlelight. Tugging on the medallion, I drew her close to enjoy the sweetness of her lips. As I released her and passed her the tankard I had grabbed for her, I saw the merriment in her eyes and the beginnings of a fire that would keep us warm far into the night.

As we sipped our drinks, we saw the beginnings of a space being cleared of people. Slowly, a ring roughly ten feet wide began to form. People with drums lined the edge of circle. Slowly, but steadily, the rhythmic beat of drums began to fill the tavern. As the drums continued to build, a slim figure in a red cloak glided into the center of the drum circle. Shrugging off her cloak, she raised her thin arms upwards, heavy gold bracelets clinging tightly to wrists, forearm and upper arms. Clashing tzils began to chime out a counterpoint to the beating drums as the dancer's elfin body began to weave in time to the music. After a few minutes, the belly dancer was joined by a male dancer, and the two together wove a duet of sound and movement that captivated their audience.

A slight pressure on my left arm told me that I was not the only one enjoying the dance. The lady on my arm turned to look at me with eyes bright with desire. "Let's go dance", said I to her. Together, we headed out into the darkness. Walking together, we threw our cloaks about each other. As we did so, I reached my left hand around to grasp her left wrist and pulled it to the center of her back. Her response was to reach back with her right hand in an attempt to free herself. As her right hand began to tug on my left hand, I did two things at once to fully capture her. My left hand briefly released her left wrist, and my right hand pushed her right elbow to the left, briefly bringing her two wrists together, one above the other, behind her back. Seizing this planned chance, I quickly grasped both her wrists together tightly in my left hand. Instantly, she was caught and knew it. One brief tug confirmed to her I had handcuffed her wrists, literally.

Guiding her through the shadows by her captured wrists, I made my way to our pavilion. I paused at the entrance. "Are you sure this is what you want?" I asked.

"I want to be made to dance. Make me dance", was the reply from her lips.

I swept aside the opening to our pavilion with my free hand, bringing her inside with me. "I'll light the candles. You get ready, my captured lady", I told her, releasing her wrists.

I turned to the large metal bowl we had on a table and began lighting the candles in it. Soon their golden glow, reflected by the bowl, began to cover the inside of our pavilion. While doing this, I had heard the slithering sound of silk from our sleeping area. Stepping out from behind the partition came my lady. Her skirt and overshirt were gone, leaving only her bodice and single underskirt covering her charms. A most unsubmissive look was on her face. Gone was the quiet lady begging my touch. Here was a captured Princess of the Blood. Haughty and regal was her face, with imperious eyes flashing defiance. She held her body like sword, her hair behind her a living banner proclaiming her defiance. She might be within my power, her eyes said, but no mere man would tame her. No mortal would ever bend her will while she drew breath or even beyond.

A length of rope was quick to my hand as I moved thought to action by wrapping her wrists within its confines. Within a few seconds, the cinch was laid, and her wrists were bound palm to palm. A small loop protruding from the cinch was the only bump in its silken smoothness. Despite her outward calm, she could not keep the surprise from her face at how quickly the bonds had been laid. She began to twist at the bonds in an attempt to gain some slack. While my captive had her concentration focused on something other than me, I grabbed a snap hook with a line attached to it and snapped to the loop on her bonds. Taking no chances, I screwed down the securing nut and hauled on the line, pulling my lady's hands over her head. For a moment, I stretched her on the line, forcing her into a taut line as she stretched on tip toes. However, I needed her to have some slack for what I intended for her, so I let her down a few inches until her elbows flexed.

Again, moving while she was distracted, this time with pulling on her wrist ropes, I undid her underskirt. "You may have my body, Sir," she said in a low voice, "but I shall never call you Master."

"Very well," was my reply as I began to unlace her bodice. "Then your body shall pay for your insolence."

With that, I undid the final lace and finished striping her, pulling the bodice away. Immediately, her J cup breasts fell free. Yes, I said 'J' cup. She has always found them a mixed blessing, but I have always enjoyed them, as there is enough flesh there for all manner of interesting things. Her nipples are also wonderfully sensitive, a fact I discovered anew as I took each breast in a hand and began to stroke each nipple. Instantly, the nipples began to stiffen and grow hard. My captive's breath suddenly caught, and her head went back as the sensations began to run through her. A low moan began to come from her throat as my tongue followed the path of my thumbs.

A different light was coming to her eyes now as she lifted her head back up. Lust was beginning to win out over defiance, though I had barely begun to command her body. I reached over to a table and pulled over a pair of elastic hair clamps. They were simple items, really--a hard plastic circle with a pair of flexible, soft plastic jaws running through their middle. I opened one up, placed a nipple in a jaw, and clamped it shut. Her breath suddenly hissed out of her at the sudden shock, which was then doubled as I clamped the other nipple as well. Her breathing was starting to become irregular as she tried to deal with all the sensations. She closed her eyes and, trying to lower herself, she began to grind her hips slowly from side to side.

The slow grind of her hips brought to mind the dancers we had watched earlier. I could feel myself growing hard with desire. Striping myself, I grabbed her hips with my hands and slowly entered her from behind. I drove myself upwards into her as she began to shudder around me. Then, in tune to the distant drum beats, I began to swivel her hips with my hands. Rotating her hips around my cock, she began to moan all over again. I punctuated each drum roll with a thrust forward, and, thus, my bound slave was forced to dance around my pole in time to the music. As the drum beat increased, I sped the rotation of her hips. Finally, she could resist no longer, and a shattering orgasm over took her as she pumped her hips into me with everything she had.

"Oh, God. Oh, God!" she finally gasped out.

She could barely hold herself up. The ties around her wrists were holding her up more than anything else. She looked back down over her shoulder where I had moved back after she had come. I was still erect.

"More?" she asked, noting my still-ready condition.

I slowly wound my hand into her hair, drawing her head back as I tightened my grip on its lustrous darkness.

"And how would a slave girl properly ask for that?" I whispered into her ear.

"Please.....Master. Please make me come again, Master."

"Be careful what you ask for," I told her. "Sometimes you might get it."

I released her hair and stepped over to a container. A certain clink of metal on metal told my sweet slave what I had just picked up. Submissively, she bent her head forward so that her hair dropped away from her neck. I stepped back behind her and wrapped the leather and metal collar around her neck. Slowly, I drew the collar tight about her lovely throat. I drew it more tightly it until it was at its tightest notch and buckled it. This tight, the collar was not only close about her neck, but it was actually pressing into the flesh halfway up her throat. From experience, we knew that her breathing was only slightly affected, but this tight it was a constant reminder that she was collared--an owned possession whose every sensation was controlled by her owner.

A final click from the nape of her neck told her that not only was the collar on tightly, but it was also now locked on. Her face was a naked roil of emotions. Fear and lust combined and warred on her face. I took the opportunity to release the haul line from her wrist bindings and use it as a lead to draw my slave to the bed. Her nipples were still captured in the clamps, and they pulled at her as I made her crawl over the bed on her elbows and knees. Finally, I secured the line to the head of the bed. My slave was now held in an all-fours position, secured like an animal tethered in a stall with a collar displaying her owned status and acting as a restriction to her movements by its tightness about her throat. My slave, my magnificent little animal, was just waiting to be taken and used.

I went to my knees behind her butt and again slowly guided myself into her now slick channel. Air hissed out of her as I entered. Slowly, I began to build up the rhythm, faster and then slower, and then slower still until I had all but stopped. Just as she as about to question what was happening, I reached out with both hands and grabbed hold of her hair on either side. Making a single turn around each fist, I created a pair of reins for her. My drawing back on her hair pulled her head back and raised the line of her back straight. The length of her hair allowed me to hold her by the "reins" and place my hands on her hips. Holding her thus, I began to thrust steadily again. The rhythm began to build again. Our breath began to come in short gasps together. Time passed as our two bodies came together repeatedly. Finally, with exquisite timing, her controlled body obeyed the commands given it, and as she came, I began to pump my stored load into her. Jets of hot cum filled her, causing yet another orgasm within her body, which in turn set me off again. Finally, spent, I released her hair and allowed her to collapse to the bed. I spent some minutes laying beside her, watching her slowly regain her breath. The tight collar flexed as her throat muscles stretched against it.

When her breathing finally returned to normal, I rolled her onto her back. Her wrists were still secured to the bed. She watched me as I gathered more rope.

"Master," she asked quietly, "what do you intend to do now?"

"My mare has walked and cantered," I replied. "It's time to see if she can gallop."

I then ran the rope from her ankles to her thighs, four strands wide on each side. Then, I cinched it tight to place her into frog tie. I got up to gather some more supplies, and I could hear the chiming of the D rings on her collar she tried to watch me, puzzlement in her eyes. I returned to her carrying a towel and a bottle of our favorite lube. There was no need to lube my fingers up, but I did so anyway as I put two fingers of my right hand into her and began stroking her G-spot.

Immediately, my slave's captive body reacted. Her face began to flush again, and she stretched herself as best she could against the unyielding bonds to press against my hand. With my left hand, I began to rub her engorged clit. Then, I began to count the strokes, "1...2...3...4...5...6...7." Each time I hit seven, I did a brief flurry of hard rubs and strokes against her G-spot. Over the next few minutes, her body became conditioned to a flurry every seventh stroke, and she would press down against my hands. Then, I added a third finger on a seventh stroke, and then, the fourth finger. My entire hand up to the thumb was now inside her, slick with both of our juices and the lube.

Her body had now nearly lost any control she had. One speck of will caused her to look to me.

"You're not going to try for the whole thing....are you?" she half asked, half begged.

"You no longer have that choice," was my reply to her.

Her eyes rolled back, and their lids closed partially as her last shred of resistance was taken by the rolling waves of pleasure she was helpless to stop. Finally, the last of her muscles relaxed to the rhythm. Sensing the moment was near, I lubed up the entire back of my hand. Then came the moment, "1...2...3...4...5...6...7." Swiftly, I folded down my thumb, my hand now resembling a blade, and I pushed fully within her. As my thumb cleared her vaginal ring, I curled my hand into a fist. As she clamped down on my wrist, I froze. Suddenly, she had a massive object within her pussy, stretching it and pushing on every sensitive spot. Her breathing went to short gasps, the collar restricting her air slightly again, throwing her into yet another series of full body orgasms.

Slowly, I began to twist my wrist, just a mere inch back and forth, but even that small amount caused her to spasm. Her body was now in a near-continuous series of orgasms. As she came again and again, her body arched up. Supported by only her shoulders and her frog bound feet, she had now been made into a helpless female animal. Unable to free herself, unable to control herself, unable to resist, all she could do was ride the crashing waves of orgasm sweeping her body, heightened further still by the restriction of her breathing caused by the tight collar. Its rings chimed repeatedly with her throes and shudders. For some unknown amount of time, my fist was within her. Then, it was time to withdraw. I began the seven stroke again, and on the seventh stroke, I pulled my thumb out, removing the full fist from her body and drawing another final orgasm series from her. Slowly, I withdrew the rest of my hand one finger at a time.

My lady, my slave, was now completely exhausted. Even if she had wanted to, I don't she could have taken any more. Sweat pooled on her body. The flush began to fade, and her breathing slowed. I used the towel quickly to wipe her outside and then tuck it under her hips. A bottle of cool water was pressed to her lips, and she eagerly drank. That done, I untied her legs and finally released her nipples from their clips. Quick gasps greeted the return of blood there. Drawing a blanket over us was the final step. For the rest of night, my conquered lady slept in my arms, bound to our bed, my collar on her throat and smile on her lips. It had been a fine night's dancing.

*

written by Penalt,

editing thanks to BiBunny