Miranda And Me

Miranda had been wearing a deceptively demure pink outfit. I say "deceptively" because she wasn't one bit demure. No, she was a bitch, and I mean with a capital B. Now she was bare-ass, her pale form squirming against the white rope that bound her to the wooden desk chair. The points of her nipples were tilted slightly upward, as if daring me to take them in my mouth. "Don't even dream of getting away with this," she hissed furiously.

I smiled and took the big red rubber ball gag out of my valise, then stuffed it firmly between her lips. She gasped and chomped down on the rubber, which I happen to know tastes horrible; her lips and teeth worked in a futile attempt to spit it out. But I buckled the straps behind her head so she couldn't, and since her hands were held firmly to her sides by the rope, all she could do was clench her hands into two tight fists. She was helpless to strike, helpless to get up. There wasn't a sound in the room except tiny gasps of struggle escaping from around the ball. Perfect.

It had been a long week at the paper. Hell, it had been a long year. Again and again, Miranda had gotten the plum assignments, while I was stuck with covering such hot-breaking news items as some CEO being awarded a golfing trophy. The editor's excuse was always the same: "This story means so much to Miranda." Meaning that she would have a shit fit if she wasn't given the good assignments, or as good as they get on a small-town weekly, while I could be relied on to be "understanding." Well, I was tired of being the nice guy who finished last.

Miranda was surprised when I invited her for a cocktail after work, but fortunately she wasn't really suspicious. After a few drinks, she was ready enough to accompany me to the local no-tell motel. We opened a bottle of wine in the room, and I made sure she thought I'd had as much as she had. It didn't take all that long for her to shed her clothes, and that's when I brought out the length of white rope.

At first, she'd just giggled as I tied her to the chair. It was only when she saw the look in my eyes after I tied the last knot that she started to worry. I sat there, unmoving, just watching her, for a long time, letting the worry build into real fear. Would I ever let her go? And that's where this story started.

I'd deliberately bound her with her legs open, each leg tied separately to a leg of the chair, leaving her juicy pink cunt fully open to my gaze. I knelt in front of her and smacked my lips ostentatiously. "Ah. Now you're my captive, and I can do anything I want to you," I said. "I can even make you come in bondage. Screaming."

I stuck out my tongue and whisked it energetically across the bulge of Miranda's astonishingly large and hard clitoris. It reminded me of a man's cock, and it was even more sensitive, as I quickly found out when it stiffened to a full erection at the first touch of my lips. Miranda began to jerk and twitch as I nibbled on her crucial nerve endings, and when I sucked it a bit too hard, she exploded all over my face, her screams muffled by the ball gag but still obvious to both of us.

I pulled back and looked up at Miranda's face, which had turned beet-red with shame and ecstasy. I'm sure she didn't want me to know how easily she could come even under such disgraceful conditions. I laughed at her, and then slipped a finger in her cunt, which shuddered and then clenched around it. As I pumped in and out of her lubricated depths, Miranda began to squirm in her chair, and I sensed that another orgasm was coming on fast. Too fast.

With no warning, I pulled my finger out of her with a loud popping sound that seemed to echo round the room. I stood up and stepped back a little, just enough so that she could see me perfectly. I began to fondle my cock and balls with both hands, watching her watch me. Sure enough, her pale eyes went frantic above the ball gag. She wanted my cock, but she couldn't have it. In fact, what she did surprised me. She jerked her whole body heavily so that the chair actually lifted from the floor for a few minutes and walked forward a couple of steps. No problem: I just backed up a bit.

"You want it, huh?" My voice was low and hoarse, again the only sound in the room. Miranda flushed crimson all down her chest to her nipples, and she nodded her head vigorously. That did it for me. I stepped in closer and shot a huge load that covered her with my cream from her tits all across her belly to her thighs.

Temporarily satisfied, I unbuckled the gag but left the rope in place. Miranda swallowed several times to get the taste of the rubber out of her mouth, and started to talk. None of her usual teasing, bitchy tone this time: she knew she had to choose her words carefully now, or I could walk out the door and leave her naked and bound to be found by the night staff.

"Please," she finally said in a throaty voice that I had never heard before. "Don't frustrate me any more. Give me your cock, Sam. I need it so badly."

"I've needed some decent assignments 'so badly'", I said in a cold voice. "How many times can I expect to put up with covering kiddy basketball games?" But I couldn't conceal the fact that my cock began to twitch and harden again at just the sound of her voice.

"We'll share the stories," she said, still using the same sexy half-begging tone. "Anything. Just please, Sam, please. I'll be your slave. Your own personal little sex slave." My brain said not to believe a word of it, but my cock was fully hard again. "Just give me your dick and give it to me now. You have no idea how hard it is, being tied to this chair and not being able to reach out and grab it."

I let her grovel for a few more minutes. Her voice had a whine in it, but it was a begging whine now, not a demanding whine, and it was music to my ears. "Please, baby. I'll suck you dry with the muscles of my pussy. You have no idea how strong I am down there. And then I'll lick you hard again and let you stuff it up my ass."

I felt my willpower dissolving. Grunting heavily, I suddenly sat down on the chair she was bound to and angled my dick directly into her open lap. Sure enough, her pussy seemed to leap up to meet me somehow.

The back legs of the chair thumped up and down in the rhythm of our bondage fuck. She was right about her cunt: I'd never been in a woman with such an energetic grip. And she came quickly around me and over and over, till she was coming practically non-stop. I held out for as long as I could, but within fifteen minutes I was blowing out my guts into her.

Now every Friday evening we go back to the motel and spend the night having sex. Miranda is a world-class cocksucker, and the first time I came in her ass while she was tied to the bed was the nearest thing to a religious experience I'll probably ever have. But even though she calls herself my slave, I sometimes wonder just who has enslaved who.

Because the fact is, nothing whatsoever has changed back at the office!