All the Bells and Whistles Pt. 09

25. Honor Among Thieves

"If that's really all you can come up with, then you're in trouble" she said.

I threw my hands up in frustration for what must have been the one hundredth time. "Well I don't know what to do! That's what I've been saying all along!"

I was whining.

"Then why would he leave it up to you then? I mean, if you don't have the imagination for it, why wouldn't he just tell you what to do? Isn't he supposed to be your Master?" she asked.

"First of all, he's not my 'Master'; it's not like that. I'm not his slave, I don't call him 'Master', it's just something he wrote in there to be cute. Or annoying. Okay?"

"Okay, okay, I get it. You don't call him 'Master'. How ridiculous and deviant of me to suggest such a thing," she said, the sarcasm practically dripping out of her mouth.

This back-and-forth had gone on for ages it seemed. In reality, probably only minutes, but it felt like forever.

"Well if your 'Master' didn't give you any hints and you're not going to come up with something by yourself, then I guess it's up to me then!" she stated, with the extra emphasis on the word "Master."

I sighed. Somewhere inside me I accepted that this was inevitable, I guess.

She turned slowly and surveyed the room completely one last time, and then she looked back at me. "I've got an idea. I'll take care of it. You just do as I say, and you'll end up okay. And you can thank me later!" She giggled as she finished the statement.

I suddenly became nervous again. The butterflies I'd banished earlier in the evening came roaring back to me, attacking my chest and turning my skin a blotchy mix of crimson and pale. "You do?" I squeaked.

"Uh huh" she nodded. She must've seen the fear in my face as the butterflies assaulted me.

"Don't worry -- it won't be that bad. It'll certainly be more comfortable than being on your hands and knees, and I'm betting your husband will like it, too." She was reassuring me now. Where did this lady come from?

"O-o-o-kay" I stammered, and then she took my hand and pulled me over to stand between her and the foot of the bed.

"Wait right there" she smiled as she disappeared into the closet. She wasn't gone long; she didn't have to search much for what she sought due to the boxes of toys she'd helped me recover from the bedroom.

I stood still, right where she left me. In my mind I wrestled with the situation all over again. What was I doing? What was she doing?

She came back with only a few small items in her hands, and I gave a quiet sigh of relief. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad I thought...

"Okay, hands in front, wrists together," she said, standing in front of me expectantly. She had emptied the contents of her hands onto the tv table behind her.

I complied with her instructions somewhat hesitantly (reasonable under the circumstances I'd say). She paid no attention to my reluctance though as she set about adjusting the cuffs on my wrists. It seemed that now that she -- we -- had a plan, she was focused on accomplishing it.

I felt a tug on my wrists and looked down to see that she had joined the cuffs together with a short length of the delicate chain from the box in the closet. I could see the lock binding the cuffs and the chain together. The tugging feeling was her lifting up on the bitter end of the chain, pushing my hands towards my chest.

"There you go dear, hold them there for just a second" she said, concentrating on her work.

I felt her hands move over my skin upwards from my cleavage to my collar bone, and then I felt her adjusting something at the front of my collar. Her hands moved quickly, and before I had a chance to wonder at what she was doing, she took her hands away from my body, and stood back with a smile on her face.

I assumed she was finished, so I let my hands drop from my chest... at least, that's what I tried to do. My hands moved only an inch or two and then I felt the chain tug on the front of my collar.

She had attached my cuffs to the front of the collar with the short chain. My hands were stuck dangling in front of me, at a height just above my breasts.

"Whaddya think?" she asked, all smiles. "Can you live with that?"

I must have looked confused, and I stammered a little when I replied.

"Uh... I guess so. Is this it? Is this your plan?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes at me again. She was fond of doing that.

"Of course not, dear! I've got a little more imagination than that! Now turn around," She said as she made a twirling motion with her finger.

"O-okay" I said, without confidence, but I did as she instructed.

I felt her step closer to me once my back was to her. I tried to look over my shoulder when I felt her hands on the tops of my legs.

Quickly, before I could react, her right hand came off my leg and patted me firmly on the ass, between my cheeks. The bells signaled their approval of the attention, but the plug between my cheeks sent a shock through my body at the contact. I gasped.

"I take it these were his idea then, huh?" she said, keeping her hand under my skirt to keep the bells alive.

I couldn't speak, I was still recovering from the shock from the plug. I nodded instead.

"And I assume they've been a source of significant anxiety for you, what with the excursion into the other room?" she asked.

Excursions. Plural. More than one. If she only knew.

I nodded again.

"Then, I'm going to take a bit of a leap here and suggest that you wouldn't mind being rid of them, would you?" She rang more of the bells for effect, "and I'm going to assume that, when the 'Master of the House' returns to this room at the end of the evening, these panties are more likely to be in his way than anything else?"

She was speaking directly into my ear. I could feel her breathing on my neck. I still couldn't speak, but now it was for a different reason, so I nodded again.

"That's what I thought," she said, as her hands slid under the skirt and took hold of the waistband of those infernal panties, and she started to slide them down...

The panties protested less and less as they made their way from my bum, down my legs and finally to my ankles. Almost like an echo fading away. I lifted first one heel and then the other as she instructed, and then they were gone. My little entourage of humiliation was gone.

I didn't have any time to savour the freedom though; the cool air between my legs brought me crashing back to the situation at hand.

She had just removed my panties.

In a moment I felt her at my back again, and her hands slid up each of my thighs and went right back under my skirt. This time though they didn't make a sound when then caressed my bottom. But I blushed a deeper shade of crimson than I had at any other time.

"There. That must feel better, huh?" She asked, and again I could feel her breath on my neck.

"Yes, I guess so," I managed, barely loud enough to hear myself.

"I thought it would. You're doing fine darling, you're almost there," she said.

The encouragement was weird. The whole situation was ridiculous, I know, but something about her encouragement felt especially odd.

"Okay then, time to move on," she whispered. She pushed me forward a half step, until the front of my thighs were almost against the footboard of the bed.

I felt her move away from me, I heard something rustle from the tv table, and then she was back behind me. I couldn't feel her breathing though, and then I realized she was on her knees.

Her hand was on my calf.

"I want to you to spread this leg towards the post, okay?" she said as she tapped my calf for effect.

I stepped to the side with my foot gingerly and waited.

"More. Just a little farther," I heard her say.

I cringed but obeyed. Her hand put a firm pressure on my calf as I stepped out, and she guided my foot to land where she wanted it, which was decidedly further than where I wanted it.

I felt her manipulating the ankle cuff, but I didn't look down. I don't know why I didn't look to see what she was doing, I guess I was scared to know. She worked quickly though, and in a moment her hand was on my opposite calf.

"Now this one" she didn't let me step gingerly this time, instead she guided my foot to exactly where she wanted it, "that's the spot," she cooed.

The result was that I was now standing, my legs spread wider than any woman would ever allow, but not so far as to be uncomfortable -- yet. But when I tried to shift my weight, and adjust my footing, that's when I realized what she had done. My ankles were chained to the feet of the bed.

"That's okay, isn't it?" She asked, sounding like a saleswoman asking if the stilettos she brought you were comfortable. Sure, they're fine, but for how long?

"I-I guess so," I said, squirming as best I could. With my legs apart the air grew cooler under my skirt, and suddenly the bells seemed a minor inconvenience compared to the situation I found myself in now.

She came around to the side of the bed so that she could see me better and asked "What do you think? Not bad?"

I didn't know what to say. How could I? I was along for the ride -- again -- as I so often am when my husband is playing these games. Except this wasn't my husband.

I shrugged and gave her a weak smile. My hands felt as if they were clutched at my chest, but they weren't going anywhere.

"Good," she said as she smiled "you're basically done, I'd say." She had an encouraging look on her face, as if she was seeing me off on some adventure.

"Basically?" I asked, looking -- and feeling -- puzzled. "There's more?"

She giggled. "Relax dear, it's just a detail or two."

"Before I go, though -- and this is assuming that I make it out of here undetected -- I wanted to let you know that I don't think you're a pervert, or crazy, or a weirdo. Really. I mean that. Don't get me wrong, this is not a normal thing that I do on a Friday night, but I didn't want you to worry about me. Okay?"

All of a sudden, the awkwardness was back. Like the morning after a one-night stand that you instantly regret.

"Uh, thanks, I guess."

What else could I say?

She could see that I didn't have the words though, and we both knew that whatever heat-of-the-moment motivations that had gotten us this far were quickly cooling off.

"Anyways, you get it. We're cool. Now, for the finishing touch..." she said as she stepped behind me again to the tv table and reappeared at my side with a wicked grin spreading across her face.

My heart sunk and the look on my face gave it away when I saw what she was holding.

"Please, is that really necessary?" I pleaded.

She laughed gently and said, "Come on now, I can't have you spoiling my efforts by turning tattle-tale on me, can I?"

The cock gag was still damp from earlier in the evening. She was holding it with both straps folded back in one hand, the rubber phallus protruding obscenely from the panel towards me.

"Besides, based on how damp it is, I'm assuming at least one of you enjoys it," she said, giggling. "Now open up..."

She buckled the gag as tight as it would go. I had hoped that should would make the mistake of being gentle about it, but she showed no hesitation. I can usually push the gag out of my mouth if there is even the tiniest bit of slack, but she made sure it was impossible. I was stuck with it, again. And then, as if for good measure, I heard the "click" of a lock closing behind me.

Yet again, I was fucked.

She stepped away again for just a moment, and when she reappeared at the side of the bed where we could face each other more easily, she was turning my panties over in her hands almost absentmindedly as she began to speak.

"So, my dear, dear new friend. Here we have it. You are, as per the instructions in the final note from your wickedly perverted and obviously sadistic husband, ready to await his return at the end of whatever that shit-show is downstairs.

You're bound, your legs are spread, your panties are no longer an impediment to his pleasure, and you're sucking on a rubber cock that keeps you from uttering even the most incomprehensible protest. You, my dear, are effectively fucked."

I'm not sure if this narrative was for my benefit or hers, but I had no choice but to listen to it.

"And best of all, your predicament is such that it is plausibly self-inflicted, so know one needs to know I was even here."

Shit. I thought, she's right. My husband would believe that I'd done this to myself.

The bells whimpered as she continued to fidget with my panties as she walked around behind me, and I turned my head to follow her as best I could with my collar and the cuffs attached.

"I'm quite proud of my contribution to this, your final task, and I want to show you why," she said, as she placed her hand on my back between my shoulders, and curled her fingers around the top of my corset, taking hold of it.

"You're able to stand here as long as you need to, not too uncomfortably, while you wait for him to return. If you get tired of standing..." she suddenly pushed forward with her grip on my corset, bending me at the waist and driving my face into the bed in front of me "you can take a break!"

She kept the pressure on my back for a moment, forcing me into the mattress. Then her hand released its grip on my corset and slid up over my shoulders, where I could feel her fingers take hold of my ponytail. She was standing directly behind me now, with her hips twisted slightly so they were between my legs.

"And not only can you take a break..." she said as she began to pull back on my ponytail, arching my neck and back and pulling my face out of the mattress.

She pulled just far enough that I was forced to look straight ahead and lean back to attempt to relieve the pressure on my neck, which is exactly what she wanted. As she pulled back, I leaned my ass right into her hip. Her hip was centered between my legs, and the movement applied pressure to both my crotch and directly on the plug. I groaned in unexpected pleasure.

"...But your husband can also enjoy you as well!"

She finally eased her grip on my ponytail, allowing me to relax the arch in my back, and release the pressure from her hip between my legs. She patted her hand in the middle of my back though and leaned it to whisper in my ear: "don't get up, sweetie, not until I'm gone."

So, I stayed where she put me, bent over the bed, my weight resting on my forearms, as I watched her come back into view beside the bed. She held up the panties she'd be holding throughout this final demonstration. They were folded neatly, the silver bells twinkling where they peeked out from the folds.

"These are going to be my souvenir, I'm going to hold onto them for now. Something to remember you by," she said, as my eyes widened in disbelief.

And then she blew me a kiss.

"See you later" she said, with a wink.

With that, and with me still bent over the footboard, unable to move and unable to protest, she walked towards the door, like it was no big deal. I tried to watch her all the way out, but my collar wouldn't allow it, and I lost sight of her before she reached the door, but not before I saw her slip the folded panties into her back pocket.

She opened the door -- I could tell because the sounds of the party below came blaring in -- and then, quietly as she'd arrived, she left me to my fate, and all the questions that would go with it.

Before she was even gone, I had closed my eyes and started to process everything that had happened since she'd found me.

But before the door closed, signalling her absence, from behind my eyelids I could have sworn that I felt the room light up for split second.

And then I was alone.

26. Epilogue

I don't know how long I waited like that. I want to say that it wasn't long, but I honestly don't know. The woman and the events of the evening occupied my mind so completely that I lost all concept of time.

Who the fuck was she? Would I tell my husband? Was this all a planned part of the game?

I wracked my brain for what seemed like an eternity trying to figure out how she fit in to the big picture, and I couldn't come up with any explanation that made sense.

I didn't notice the party had ended until the house went quiet, what seemed like suddenly. It was a shock to my system to go from the constant roar and din of the men enjoying themselves downstairs to eerie silence that followed when the front door closed on the last departing guest. The lights of the taxi pulling out of the driveway briefly illuminated the bedroom, and it was only then that I realized I could hear footsteps plodding up the stairs. This time, though, they brought no anxiety for me.

The rollercoaster I'd been on throughout the night had come to a stop during that final wait, and my level of arousal wasn't what it had been at numerous times earlier in the evening; especially in the minutes following the mysterious woman's departure. That was when my brain had finally admitted what my body had known all along -- that I had enjoyed the experience with her more than I ever would have imagined I could.

But when the door opened my husband found me exactly as she had intended him to; bent over the foot of the bed, legs spread, and ankles tied to the corner posts. My hands were drawn up under my chin, the elegant piece of chain connecting my wrists to my collar allowing nothing else, and that rubber cock pressed tightly into my mouth -- and the strap locked for good measure. The layers of my skirt were so short and stiff that my ass, and the bejeweled toy buried inside it, was completely bare.

His hands grasped my hips, and he pressed his pelvis firmly into my backside without saying a word. I could feel his erection growing through his jeans, and I could tell by his movements that he was just a little drunk.

Despite all that I'd been through, and all that I had to think about, I couldn't help but react to his overt show of desire. God knows how many times I'd cycled from arousal to any other emotion through the evening to that point, but I obviously wasn't ready to give up.

By the time he stepped out of his jeans I needed no more encouragement. Still, he licked his fingers and rubbed the entrance to my sex before he drove inside me with a deep, guttural grunt. He fucked me like that, hard and deep but not for long.

I want to tell you that we cuddled when he was done, that he unchained me and unlocked me and undressed me and kissed me deeply and brushed the hair from my face and held me as we both drifted off to sleep, but that would be a lie.

He did manage to free my ankles and unclip the chain to my collar before he fell into bed, flat on his face, asleep or unconscious or some combination of both.

I wasn't complaining though.

I wasn't satisfied, but I was happy and exhausted, and I was reveling in the knowledge that I had won our little game.

You see, I may have been toyed with and played with and humiliated and fucked and everything else, but I had made him happy, and that was what made me happy. Before I'd met my husband, I'd had but one orgasm with a partner, ever. I didn't know what BDSM was, and I had no interest in it. The truth is, I still don't really care... I enjoy making him happy, and he is only happy if I enjoy myself. It's circular, and symbiotic, and it's good that way.

I woke up some time later that night -- I don't know what time it was other than it was still dark out -- and I unlocked and uncuffed and ungagged and undressed, and I crawled back into bed beside him. I didn't sleep for a while after that, I still had so much running through my mind, so much to process and understand, but astonishingly I wasn't nervous for the morning to come.