tagBDSMA Welcome Break

A Welcome Break


A soft swishing noise kissed his ears and quick air feather-stroked his lower spine. There was no helping it, an involuntary whole body spasm radiated from his lower back, making the restraints clink and his cock tip jerk. Again, and Peter could feel his whole body stiffening. A sigh escaped his nose and there was a soft feminine chuckle circling round to his left followed by the sharp tapping sound of steel tip stiletto heels on concrete. A squeak of straining leather and another swish, this time the air kissed him across the top of his thighs. A return stroke shaved his buttocks. He shivered.

This was all Tanya's idea. After their last big row she'd blamed all their problems on their moribund sex life. It was, so she'd claimed, in the doldrums. They'd both known there was something going wrong with their marriage, but had been too distracted by their careers to notice. After many emotionally taxing conversations he was forced to concede that she was right, their sex life had been reduced to a perfunctory quickie less than once a fortnight, simply because they were both too tired, jet lagged or distracted by work to do anything more.

As a corporate couple, their careers took them all across the world, Business class of course. All expenses. They were young, handsome high fliers and earners whose long hours and dedication were richly rewarded. But, as Tanya had forcibly declared, a divorce was on the cards unless their physical relationship improved, soon. And Peter had agreed that something had to change or their five year marriage and everything they'd worked for together was going to crash and burn.

He wasn't quite sure what would begin to heal their growing rift, but was desperate enough to try anything and foolishly said so. It was then that Tanya had told him about one of her girlfriends who had tried this place for very similar reasons. Her friend described the experience in glowing terms one evening, praising to the skies what it had done to rescue her flagging love life. According to Tanya's friend, the experience had been so empowering, so re-energising, that Tanya and Peter just had to try it. Even if it was a lot of money for a long weekend. Which path had led to Peter McCallan, top flight corporate lawyer, being gagged, blindfolded, restrained ankle and wrist, and currently having serious doubts.

They'd arrived at an out of the way country cottage that evening in the dark, Tanya driving, and all he'd seen was a brightly lit window as they crunched up a long gravel driveway. Then his wife had produced a heavy black silk blindfold and wrapped it around his eyes before helping him out of their 7 series BMW, leading him inside. "Do we have to do this?" He'd complained.

"Yes. Now come on Peter my love, play the game. It'll be fun, you'll see." Tanya said. "Mind the step." He managed to maintain a little dignity until she'd led him unsteadily down a narrow flight of stairs into an echoing room where she undressed him, ball-gagged his reluctant mouth. "Open wide, silly." And fastened leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles. "Step backwards." Tanya coaxed, guiding his naked form back two steps before fastening his right wrist to some sort of pole before doing the same thing to his left and repeating the procedure with his ankles. Then after a quick cheeky stroke of his cock he'd heard her leave. A door had opened and closed, leaving him in unnerving silence. Two or three interminable minutes later, which felt more like an hour, the tap-tap of stilettos had announced the arrival of someone else entirely. Then his pseudo-torment had begun.

At first he had been mildly anxious. Then terrified. Now confined in personal darkness he was becoming seriously aroused.

Beyond the soft blankness of his blindfold he could sense a movement in the air in front of him followed by the softly lustful "Ooh." of an older woman's voice. Something smooth and thin slid underneath his stiffening shaft, lifted it a little then rubbed up and down the length twice, slowly, in an agonisingly gentle sawing motion. God, that was incredible! He was becoming rock hard to the point where his dick was literally twitching in time to his pulse. He couldn't help himself, his breath deepened and his hips twitched, straining forward to thrust against the cruel empty air.

Then the stroking stopped, and what could only be fingernails lightly tickled the top of his straining stiffness. In response his dick twitched again and another whole body contraction arched against the straps that held his spread-eagled form in place. This time he moaned wordlessly around the ball gag in his mouth and pulled his arms in, struggling to be free. The near misses resumed. Whispering across his skin, sending nervous tingles all through his quivering body.

There was a pause in the torment while the heels tap-tapped around him. Something in front slithered and clinked onto the floor. There was the sense of supple warmth bare centimetres away and radiating a lustful, below the waist heat he could feel on the straining skin of his rampant erection. Wiry hair barely brushed the tip and he juddered, balls rising and tightening. A fingertip lazily brushed his right cheek. Another moan slipped around his gag followed by a throaty animal snarl.

"Mmmm." The older woman's voice said appreciatively. Something expensive rustled, and he heard what could only be felt furniture pads sliding on smooth concrete, as though a table was being moved. The stiletto steps moved away and after a minute he became aware of someone else moving quietly in the room. The soft slap of bare footsteps on hard floor tracked from behind his left shoulder to directly in front. Small sounds and moving air, tantalisingly close, told his ears that three people were now in the sound deadened cellar, not just himself and his tormentor.

If he concentrated he could hear the sounds of the second woman moving, all the time whimpering very quietly as though through or around an obstruction over her face. And her tiny noises of distress were not of pain, but of anxiety as she was coaxed around where he was restrained.

Inside the blindfold his eyes flickered upwards towards a new sound of soft clinking, then a fizz of fabric like a cargo strap being tightened. The whimpering stopped, settling into a gentle heavy breathlessness. The stiletto taps moved off to his right and he suddenly yelped as a sharp smack stung his left buttock. For a moment his knees buckled and all his weight dragged on his shoulders, straining the web of muscle connecting deltoid to ribs. With a grunting gasp he struggled upright.

A short feminine chuckle came from behind and a more familiar muffled giggle echoed in front. That was answered by a sharp smacking sound in front and an incoherent strangled shriek. "Mm-hm." Warned the older woman's voice.

Not that any of this mattered, all he wanted right now was to plunge forward and fuck whatever was in front of him, hammering into the softness he demanded to be there, serving wanton flesh, driving himself hard into the warm pink willingness he could literally smell. The thin rod stroked the underside of his erection again, making it twitch and sending a warm flush up his spine. All the muscles at the back of his head were tightening, making his rational brain turgid and sluggish, drawing the entire focus of his being down to a single electric root of taut excitement.

The swish again, this time faster, sharper, stinging his right hip, making his body jerk roughly, wrist and ankle straps biting into his skin. Something above gave a little and there was a sense of dust on bare shoulders and a small grating sound vibrating down the right strap. He struggled, pulling hard and was rewarded by a tiny extra freedom of movement. Grunting he made another effort and... Ah! A sharp slap stung his right bicep. "Uh-oh." Remonstrated the woman's voice. In response he groaned and his erection began to sag.

"Aww." Said the woman. Fingers shimmered softly along the underside of his naked shaft and glans. His cock grew taut again. Something soft and buzzing followed, barely touching his hardness before tracking under his twitching balls then around and back up past his navel before paying brief visits to both nipples. He moaned again, this time it was a cry of loss, a bitter yearning from the very core of being, begging for restoration. The buzzing thing passed under his nose and he smelt the rich pink softness of warm pussy juice. "Good boy." Drawled the voice, a rich and almost glutinous sound like a mother praising a two year old or a favourite puppy. He could only grunt sharply through his nose, any cognition blanked out by the pain of need. Accompanied by a feeling of tight glorious agony in his throbbing testicles.

The buzzing moved away and then became muffled then the other muzzled female voice sighed throatily from less than a metre away. It gasped. Then a few moments later, "Uh! Uh!" Tailing off into a slow ululating throaty moan. He strained to hear. It was someone he knew well but right now no longer cared. All that mattered was to shove, thrust, penetrate and drench wildly with his seed. To hump mindlessly as deep as possible, diving in to detonate in her core, whose core, it didn't matter. All that counted was to fuck, now. He groaned, another animal like sound half way between a snarl and a purr, jerking roughly at his restraints again.

"Mmmm." A long sexy drawl came from his right, punctuating the heavy, excited breathing from in front. Something jingled and slithered. He twisted his head desperately to see, trying to dislodge the blindfold. His disobedience was rewarded by another sharp pain, this time across his shoulders but this time his balls twitched. The end of his cock oozed, drawing an appreciative. "Ooh." from very close beside him followed by a low erotic chuckle.

Close in front he could hear a tiny rhythmic slurping sound overlaid by the younger voices long muffled wavering moan tailing off in a squeak. The sound increased in pitch and rhythm along with the moaning, a small metallic squeak from overhead picked up the cadence to form a discordant three level melody that seemed to go on forever. Then a sharp slapping sound every fifth sound added itself to the tune. The gasps in front deepened and were joined by deeper, sharper breaths until the two almost synchronised. The slaps grew louder and more frequent, building in intensity, driving into what was left of his rational lawyers mind and blowing it away like smoke in a gale.

Abruptly the squeaking and slurping ceased. There was a long drawn out sigh and the sound of stilettos tapping a few steps followed by movement in front. Then a sound of metal sliding on metal above and his cock tip literally jumped as it touched other flesh. He almost came right then, but a small tap on his shaft stopped him before a soft hand guided the tip down a fleshy cleft , brushing teasingly twice across a small puckered oval before sliding down into the overheated lips of a hot little pussy, already well lubricated and demanding service.

A slap on his buttocks made his pelvis jump forward full length, straining wrists and ankles struggling to support his bucking seventy kilo body weight as he drove savagely into the waiting haven. In, in, in! Demanded his hindbrain. Pumping headlong, mindlessly pulsing and feeling the return bucking motion forming counterpoint to his own. A hard slap on his backside made him thrust extra hard causing a strangled squeal from below. Then a stinging impact right across both buttocks made him scream and hump even faster. Another came, and another, whipping him on to greater animalistic surging. Harder, faster, demanded the whip-stroke. More, more, more. Rut her, ride her, urged each whip stroke. Fuck her living brains out.

He stumbled as saliva built up in his mouth and trickled down into his windpipe, making him cough uncontrollably and bringing tears to blinkered eyes. As he faltered, from behind was a sense of warm leather close to his back and his left hand was freed, then his right. Soft hands guided them to the wildly bucking hips that quivered upon his desperate cock as saliva dribbled around the hard gag in his mouth. Another motion and the rich ripping of velcro at the back of his head let him spit the gag out to shout animal lust long and hard. Then the whip was applied again to his frantically humping arse until nothing else mattered but the friction of flesh in flesh and the rising of a ravenous heat.

Another tearing of velcro and the gasping from the body in front surged into a full throated wail of hunger before jerking and shaking once, twice, then again and again as his own intense orgasm blew away the last vestige of his conscious mind. It was like being hit by a baseball bat. He shook as a massive marshmallow explosion within him sent tectonic shockwaves up his spine and down his legs. Arching his back he emptied himself into the willing host beneath, grabbing at hips and literally jamming himself into the ravenous maw that so excited him.

Four, five times he surged as his balls shot their bolt, desperately trying to keep on fucking but feeling the howl of disappointment inside as he began to deflate. A few moments later he sagged, spent and barely able to stand, leaning onto sweet womanly buttocks as his sopping semi-flaccid length slipped out of a sated slit, clumsy hands grabbing at taut webbing hanging from the ceiling, scrabbling for a grip on something solid before falling onto a quivering female back, gasping like a dying fish. "Thank." He managed to say between laboured breaths. "You." Awkwardly kissing the back of her shoulder below the neck. Unable to move for a few seconds, he lay over her, still blindfolded and shackled at the ankles but trying to keep his full weight off her by resting his elbows in the rough webbing.

Without asking, someone behind him undid his ankle restraints and he finally fell to his knees, grateful for the solace of a solid floor before slowly sagging sideways and becoming vaguely aware that the smooth concrete he lay on was warm to the touch. He did not recall falling asleep.

He awoke to find a memory foam cushion under his head and a large faux-fur rug draped over his crotch-sticky nakedness. The blindfold was gone and the only light in the darkened room came from a half open door. In the semi-darkness he could see two upright steel poles with regular holes where fixings might be attached, but that was all.

Stiff from sleeping on a hard floor and still weakened from the previous nights exertion, he grabbed at one steel upright and gracelessly hauled himself to his feet before staggering towards the half open door. Head still spinning slightly and wrapping the fur around him, he pushed the door open to a narrow dark red carpeted stairwell leading upwards.

Leaden feet thumping up the stairs he reached a small chintz-laden dressing room, barely more than a large closet, where he recognised his street clothes neatly folded on a blanket box decorated with a Laura Ashley coverlet. He gazed out of a small oriel window which opened onto open meadows and woodland beyond. Outside was a gloriously sunny morning. Through an open panel he could taste the air, savouring its late spring headiness, letting the birdsong leak in and reset his dazed spirits. Taking a languid sniff, he breathed in the spicy musk of Maythorn and the sweet freshness of flowers in the garden below. Fabulous.

Attached to the dressing room was a small bathroom with a shower which delivered unlimited hot water, washing away the befuddlement and stickiness from last night's excess. The shower gel was even his preferred brand. Which was a nice touch.

A leisurely wash later, dried and dressed and led by the rich smell of baking, he made his way across the entrance hall at the bottom of the stairs to the Bed and Breakfast's kitchen and dining room. A tall, handsome woman wearing a platinum-blonde wig, he guessed not far short of forty, dressed in a sensible mid-calf skirt and crisp white blouse under a black bolero jacket was making sandwiches. The only clue to her real profession being the straight seamed black stockings and four inch spike heels she was wearing. "Peter. I'm Sandra." She smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Excellent thank you Sandra." Peter tried to keep his composure as he recalled just what this woman had been doing to him only a few hours ago.

"Enjoy yourself?" Sandra said, slicing a ripe tomato with a slight flush on her cheeks. A flash of something came back to him as he dimly recalled his frenetic erection pounding into a taut, slippery, and above all hungry cunt. "You all right?" She caught his moment of uncertainty with a teasing tone in her voice.

"Oh yes." He hesitated.

"What is it Peter? Like we agreed, no secrets." Sandra carefully laid the slice of tomato on top of lettuce ham and cheese, giving him a candid look.

"No, no." He said hurriedly. "It was incredible. Everything promised."

"Well here at the Country Dungeon, your pleasure is our business." Sandra popped a grape into her coral-lipsticked mouth and leaned forward onto the kitchen island. Her blouse was a little open and he could not help but stare at the lacy white bra within cupping generous breasts. She noticed his interest and leaned forward a little more.

"I know, but..." His voice trailed off.

"Butt? Like your nice firm one." Sandra teased and smiled. "Or something else firm that I recall?"

Peter blushed like a schoolboy. "When I was, well, you know..."

"Peter..." Tanya appeared from what looked like a dining room looking very different. Her dark wavy hair was pulled into a tight little bun and she was wearing an off the shoulder white peasant blouse under a brief black leather corset that pressed modest tits up into cool cotton through which erect nipples clearly showed. Her knee length skirt was no more than two layers of black chiffon and underneath she was wearing stockings dark as the deepest sin. And she was walking with a confident, suggestive sway he'd never seen her use before. "Well?" She stopped in the doorway. Peter could not help but stare. Her eyeshadow was a rich dusty red, lips glossed to brilliant crimson perfection. Her tongue flickering out to lick them in a way that made him nervous, but also very, very horny.

"It's, you're..." Peter stammered.

"Do you like it?" Tanya leaned in the doorway and he saw that in her right hand was a metre long riding crop which swished back and forth suggestively.

"Oh yes." Peter blushed again and looked over at the gently smiling Sandra. "When I was, well, you know..." He said hesitantly.

Sandra coloured prettily, noticing the obvious tightening in his trouser crotch. "Mmm? Like when your were roaring and beating your chest like Tarzan? Hardly what I'd expect from a respectable Lawyer."

"Who was it?" He said carefully.

"Who was what?" Sandra smirked.

"Who was I really screwing?" He forced the thought into the open.

"Now telling would take all the fun out of it, don't you agree?" Tanya laughed. For the first time in years he remembered the melodious giggle that in its own way was incredibly sexy. She put a slender hand to her lips and stopped herself. "Sandra and I set the rules for last night's little game. The last one was that only I can tell you." She swished the riding crop again.

"Oh." Peter was nonplussed.

Sandra's hand reached slowly up to her top blouse button. "We've got a full round of activities planned for today. All sorts of nice things. A little dressing up and role play."

"A little slap and tickle." Tanya added, swishing her riding crop playfully.

"Whipped Chocolate." Said Sandra.

"Lashings of fun." Added Tanya, smacking her whip against a kitchen unit. The sudden noise almost made him jump.

"I see." Said Peter. "Do I get to choose?"

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