|The Ties That Bind
by Rusher ©
"Do you know why you're late?" I ask, as I lounge in the recliner, dangling a beer bottle from one hand and the handcuffs by the index finger of the other
"We had a late meeting, and traffic..." she begins.
"No, shut up. You were late because you don't budget your time properly. It's indicative of a much larger problem. You lack discipline. But it's time we changed that."
I stride forward, losing the beer bottle on the table, and closing the distance in an instant, still dangling the cuffs from my finger. I stand before her for just a moment, staring icily at he. She cannot speak in her surprise. I'm intoxicated by her perfume, and even more so by the look of fear and uncertainty on her face as she stares, not at me, but at the handcuffs. But I can't waiver. A lesson must be learned.
I stand in front of her and nuzzle my face into the back of her neck, pushing her curly blonde hair away with my free hand. I breathe deeply and lay the lightest of kisses on her neck while my hand strokes her shoulder. She starts breathing harder and throws her head back, moaning. I don't need to look to know that her lips are moist and parted just slightly. But everything in its own time. On with the lesson.
I spin her quickly, at the same time drawing her suit jacket off her shoulders and down to her waist, effectively trapping her arms behind her with a tug. I enclose her wrists in the cuffs, above the jacket.
"What the fuck...?" she cries in anger.
"Shhh...." I whisper in her ear, while simultaneously cupping her left breast in one hand and stroking her throat with the other. She becomes agreeable to the process then, leaning back into me. I almost wish she would resist. I remove the jacket. Beneath it she's wearing a beautiful frilly white blouse. I feel the black pearl buttons as I run my hands all over the front of her body, increasing pressure here, then lightly touching with just my fingertips. I can see the straps of her bra through the blouse.
"I don't like being kept waiting," I whisper in her ear. "And you've worn a see-through blouse so that ANYbody could look at you body. You need more discipline than I thought. This could take a very long time; maybe all night." She moans and presses back against me, her beautiful ass grinding against me. She grasps my crotch with her long, delicate fingers, still held behind her back by the cuffs. I can hear the scraping of her long red nails against the denim of my jeans. I have a huge erection, which turns her on as much as my voice spoken low in her ear.
"I think you've missed the point entirely," I say, grabbing the front of her blouse with both hands. "There is a price to be paid for inappropriate and unacceptable behavior." I punctuate my point by ripping open the front of her blouse. I can hear the buttons hit the carpet, one, two, three, four. There is a new focus to my senses that was missing before. I can hear the transfer of her weight from one foot to another, and see each individual fine down hair on the nape of her long, smooth neck. I palm the bare skin her stomach, transferring heat and more. I lightly bite her bare shoulders and back, caressing the smooth unblemished skin of her throat, stomach and sides with my hands. She starts raising up and down on her toes to grind her ass against me and ride my crotch like a mare in heat. Her head slumps forward as he moans and whimpers through her rasping breath.
"Don't move," I whisper in her ear, as I take up the razor knife from the nearby table. I cut the expensive shirt from her back, making a point of loudly ripping the fabric. I know how much she loves the shirt, and I want her to feel the loss of it. Slowly running my hands down her spine as she shivers, I reach the zipper of her skirt, and drop it to the floor. She steps out of her skirt. She wants to kick off the uncomfortable high-heeled shoes, but I insist that they remain a part of the ensemble.
She is standing in the middle of the room in her plain white bra, beautiful lavender panties, and high heel shoes, hands restrained by the shiny metal cuffs. There is a diamond-shaped panel in the front of her panties, just above where the sensual patch of her neatly trimmed pubic hair stops. I know this from memory, from being so in tune to her body, and its minute details and changes. She shaves between her legs for me, so that I can lick and touch her better. But the small patch of hair above remains. I often nestle my nose there as I explore her with my tongue and lips.
I can barely stand from the excitement. Her knees have already buckled a couple of times. I can never lick her when she is standing. She always falls down. I long to pin her against the wall and suck and nibble and lick her until she screams she can't take any more. These are the thoughts in my mind, but they cannot sway me from the necessary task.
I step back from her as I carefully pocket the knife, and grab the chains connecting the bracelets on her wrists. I pull up firmly; lifting her arms until it becomes uncomfortable, then painful.
"John, it hurts!" she yells and tries to walk back towards me to alleviate the pain.
"It's the only effective way to learn the lesson," I say and maintain the pressure. After a few moments of each of us maneuvering, I put my hand on her shoulders, and, with pressure, force her to her knees. I caress her shoulders, and lean forward to kiss her neck and insert my tongue gently in her ear. She is excited again, but also angry. I walk around and stand directly in front of her, the zipper of my jeans even with her face. I unsnap the pants with both hands and then slowly pull down the zipper. I wear no underwear, and my erect cock falls to half-mast in front of her face as it is freed.
"Let me suck it," she whispers, her eyes fixed on the head.
"Not yet," I say and slap her face lightly with my open hand. I begin slowly masturbating with my left hand, while stroking my thighs and stomach with my right. I am ignoring her. She is staring fixedly at my cock through half-opened eyes filled with longing. She looks up at me, and slowly slides her tongue out, until it almost touches the tip.
"Please," she whimpers.
"Not yet," and another light slap in her face. I masturbate more just to tease her. I start to move my hips and moan. Our eyes lock. "Now," I say, and, grabbing the back of her head, pull her forward onto my cock. Her mouth is warm, and she is salivating. She wets the entire length of my cock with her spit as she slowly takes it as deep into her mouth as she can. With my hand on the back of her head, entwined in her hair, I control her head as she slowly bobs up and down on me. She moans deep in her throat, and I can feel every vibration. I shake from head to toe and a low moan escapes my throat. I control her head and move it slowly back and forth for a long time. She looks up at me and smiles. She is beginning to enjoy this much too much.
I move around behind her now. It is time for the real ceremony. I lift her arms again by the cuffs and she stands. She knows now that I want to lead her around and control her movements. She is content to have me in charge after being responsible all day long. I lead her down the long hallway. She begins to say something, but I put my fingers to her lips, and trace them with just the tips. She sucks at my index finger and takes it in her mouth with suction, only to expel it again, then sucks it in once more. She expects us to enter the closed master bedroom. Instead, we turn left at my bidding to enter the guest bedroom.
"Take me to bed. I need you."
"First, you'll be prepared and punished. I think you've forgotten why you're in this position in the first place. It's obvious you're not truly repentant. But you will be. And when you are, and only then, we can go to bed."
"I'm sorry, John, I really am. I tried to explain..."
"And so did I. I explained I wanted you here at 8:00. But you didn't listen, so we have to try a more efficient form of behavior control." We approach the large four-poster bed in the guest bedroom. "Since you were so late..."
"Only 20 minutes."
"SINCE YOU WERE SO LATE, I had time to make a small addition to the bed." I uncuff her and bring her hands around to the front of he body. Her look of relief fades quickly as I recuff them. I pull her hands up over head and mover her toward the post. I keep pulling up until she on her toes, and lip the chain over the hook I have embedded in the post. It is high enough that she has to stand on her toes. "Looks like I overestimated your height a little bit. Guess you'll just have to live with it." She cannot stand high enough to lift the chain off the hook unless she stands on the bed, which I of course will not allow her to do. She is very uncomfortable standing on her toes. It makes her stick out her ass in an exaggerated way. I caress the cheeks gently with my hands.
I reach into the night stand behind her. She cannot see what I have picked up. It is a black choker for her neck, a symbol of her obedience to me; it is made of beautiful black velvet. It contrasts sharply with the paleness of her skin. I reach from under her right arm and across the front of her body with my hand and stroke her throat, meeting my left hand to enclose her neck in the choker. Her perfume permeates the entire room and excites me greatly. I bend my knees and thrust my cock between her parted legs from behind. She lets out a small help and bites her own arm to stifle it.
Once again I bring out the utility knife. I move forward and begin kissing her neck, running my tongue on her nape and tasting her sweat mingled with powder and perfume. A seven-course banquet wouldn't match the taste and smell. I stroke her side and legs with one hand, passing it briefly between her legs on the return trip up her body. With the other hand I run the dull side of the blade along the curve of her shoulder and trace a line to her breast. We moan and slide together.
I suddenly slide the blade of the knife under the strap of her bra, and with a quick upward movement slice through the strap. I reach across her body and repeat the motion on the to her side. I run the sharp edge of the blade down the curve of her beautiful breasts with the care of a surgeon, and into her cleavage. I slice the middle support away and her bra falls to the floor. She leans back against me and throws her head onto my shoulder. Her beautiful breasts now swing freely with her movements. They are covered with glossy sweat, which shines in the minimal light. Her nipples are hard to the touch, and are responsive to my stimulation of them. I clamp my hands to them and squeeze lovingly, pressing myself fully against her and biting her neck. I caress her throat with my right hand and nuzzle into her hair and breath deeply of the aroma. I slowly move the blade down the side of her body to slice off her panties; first one side, then the other. She parts her legs and they fall to the floor.
I pull myself away, and reach for the last item on the night stand, the small riding crop that I have so lovingly picked out especially for her. It's the type the Nazis used to always carry in the old newsreels. That may be what first attracted me to it. It seemed so appropriate for the occasion. Made of hard rubber, 18-24 inches long, with a small pool at the handled end to put your hand through. I slip my hand through and grip the handle firmly. I stand admiring it for a moment, out of her sight, letting her wonder. I slap the crop hard against the palm of my hand. She starts and jumps slightly at the sound. Now she knows.
"John, please, no, I won't be late again, I promise."
My answer is a hard swat against her bare ass with the crop. She jumps in her high-heeled shoes and screams. She tries to maneuver away, but the hook doesn't allow her movement beyond a step in either direction. She tries to jump on the bed, but I pull her back. I swat her again and again. Her ass is red with the marks of the crop where it has landed.
"Bastard," she hisses, glaring with pure malice at me over her shoulder.
I trail along the curve of her back with the tip of the crop, from the shoulder blade to the dimple of her perfect asscheeks. I move along the crack of her ass and explore between her legs. She lifts her ass slightly and moves back toward me as I slide the crop between her legs. She is now riding it, sliding back and forth along its length like it was a cock. Her excitement is building as she fucks it. I pull the whip away and it is wet to the touch. I make her kiss and smell it as I trace the lines of her face.
I then begin whipping her again. Her ass is very red and sore now, and she contracts and whimpers with every slap. Every few strokes I stop and probe between her legs with the tip, stimulating her asshole and clitoris, once even penetrating her anally with it. She treats the crop like a lover from whom she is desperately seeking satisfaction, but can't achieve it. She rides it slowly and sensually for as long as I will allow her. She needs me desperately now.
"Fuck me, fuck me; come on, can't you get it up?!"
I press against her and let her feel my cock. "Is that what you want? Well, you better ask nice or you might spend the night where you are." She is torn between her sexual frustration and her rising anger. She hisses insults at me and tries to move against me to satisfy herself, but I move away.
"Please, fuck me, stick it in me; I'll suck your cock, I'll do anything. Please."
I toss the crop aside, and approach her from behind and press against her ass. I cup her breasts in my hands. I breathe heavily in her ear and moan. As I run my hands up the length of her arms, a chill goes through her body. I lift her off the hook and allow her to stand normally. I am holding her up, pressed against her, one hand around her waist and one cupping her beast.
"Let's go to our bedroom," I whisper to her.
"No, I'll never make it. Let's stay here."
I push her toward the master bedroom. The door is closed and hanging from the doorknob is a set of keys tied on a leather string. She takes the keys and fits them into the locks of her cuffs. I turn the knob and push the door open.
"They don't work!"
"Yes, they do."
She turns from me and looks through the open bedroom door. She is shocked to see the girl lying submissively on the bed, shackled at hands and feet, naked but for that. She does not try to cover herself, but rather wants to be seen. Between her legs is her freshly shaved pussy, waiting to be explored. She has beautiful large taut breasts with large erect nipples. Her long curled black hair matches the choker around her neck.
"Now you know why I was so upset at you for being late. We've been waiting."
She looks back at me, momentarily confused. I know she's thinking that, while we had fantasized about a threesome before, we had never seriously considered it. Slowly, timidly, she enters the bedroom and stands only a few feet from the bed. The leather string and keys are still dangling from her hand. Our companion moves lithely to a sitting position at the foot of the bed, her legs spread and folded behind her. We can hear the rustle of the chains. Meekly, with her head bowed, she holds out her shackled hands.
"Do you have the keys?" she asks.
"No," my wife says, without a moment's hesitation. She lets the keys drop from her hands onto the carpet.
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