Black Friday Surprise

All characters in this story are adults.

"Bye, mom," I said as I gave her that quick hug.

"Are you sure, Bev?" my mom asked me for at least the twentieth time that morning, her voice still holding onto that one tiny tendril of hope. A hope that I dashed and snipped with my firm refusal. She smiled sadly. "Well, drive safely, hon," she said, drawing me into a deep embrace.

"I will, I'll text you when I get back," I assured her. I was heading back to college, even though it was Black Friday and my mom had assumed - without consulting me of course - that I was staying for the full Thanksgiving break and going shopping with her on that one day. But I had to get back; I had a major paper due on Monday and I lied to everyone and had not even started the fucking thing. So I figured a hard day or two of writing and I'd wrap it up and head into my next to last finals week without many cares.

My dad came out and embraced me as well, and then draped his arm over mom's shoulder while the two of them watched me depart. I waved and beeped, and the moment I was out of sight opened my cell phone and texted Betty that I was on my way back.

I was nearly three hours into the three and a half hour drive when I realized that Betty had not replied to my text. I frowned for a moment; that was unlike her. But I'd be pulling into the home that I shared with five other girls - Betty included - around noon and did not figure that I'd be walking into anything hazardous.

I pulled into the driveway and exhaled long and noisily. Gawd, what a drive! I grabbed my phone and texted my parents that I arrived safely. My mother would have been calling me ad nauseum if I forgot! I saw that Betty's care was parked in the same spot where it had been when I left Wednesday afternoon.

She had been pretty vague about her plans over Thanksgiving, although adamant that she was remaining at school. I knew Betty the least out of my roommates, and while I had never pried, I did know that her home life was in utter disarray. Her parents were divorcing and I guess it was the nasty sort that makes its way onto daytime talk-show trainwreck varieties. She had started seeing a boy named Bryan; I'd met him and he seemed nice enough.

So I shut off the car and hauled out my big bag that now held some clean clothes, and schlepped that onto my shoulder and headed into the house. I unlocked the door and was right there, ready to call out Betty's name noisily when I heard a distinct wail that was purely woman and utterly sexual.

"Holy shit," I whispered. Suddenly the calculus changed, and I had no intention of making my presence known. I silently slipped the heavy bag from my shoulder and left it right on the floor near the door. None of my other roommates were due back until Sunday and while I had told Betty that I was likely coming back on Black Friday, I had not confirmed it until my text earlier this morning. Maybe she'd spent Thanksgiving Day getting well and truly fucked by Bryan, which was a pleasant thought.

I slipped my shoes off as another long cry emerged from one of the upstairs bedrooms. This time it had a distinct begging quality to it. "Pleaseeeeeee!" I had to assume that it was Betty; hers was the only car here!

I stepped out of my shoes, and closed and locked the door - double checking that it was locked. Then, as quietly as I could, I walked through the house. Each time the wood squeaked under my foot I winced; a sound that I routinely ignored time and again suddenly sounded as loud as a sonic boom to me!

"OH FUCK FUCK FUCK BRYAAANNNNNN!" she screamed. Well, at least I knew it was Betty, and given the volume of those screams, I did not figure that the soft squeaks of my feet on the stair riser would make its way to her.

"PLEASSSEEEE!" she wailed again.

What the fuck was going on? I felt my heart racing in my chest and my mouth was more than a little dry. Worse, I'd felt my own body react to her sexual cries, as I felt a distinct heat bloom between my legs. That wet, crawly sensation reminded me that I too had been on something of a dry spell sexually.

Now on the same floor as the bedrooms, I had to be utterly silent. Her door was open, wide open. I heard her panting hard, and a sharp, high-pitched cry that sounded deeply orgasmic to me. I shuffled, sliding my sock-covered feet along the floor. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and she moaned again. "Ohhhhhh god goddddddddd ooooooooOOOOOOO!" it ramped up in intensity and tone at the end.

Still, I crept forward, my heart going from racing and adding a thudding quality to it. This was wrong, one part of my brain insisted. Perving on my roommate getting a hard fucking! But there was a different part of me that was far more insistent that I see for myself.

The closer I got to that open door the more I heard her noisy breathing. A soft "oh fuck oh fuck!" More breathing. "God, please...please Bryan..." she moaned.

But I did not hear his voice. At all. And I realized that just before I reached the jamb of her bedroom door. Where was he? What was happening?

I peeked. A nanosecond. Nothing more. I pulled back, my eyes widening hugely as my brain sought to process an image that I knew would be forever indelible.

"OH FUCK I'M CUMMMMMMMMMMMING!" she screamed.

I peeked in again. This time I got more of the image. My own brain went: Jesus!

Betty is a big girl. Not fat, but girthy. Thick, heavy breasts and wide hips with a big porn-star style ass, all supported by thick, creamy legs. She was easily the tallest of us girls, and towered over me - she was nearly six foot and I was a petite five-three. She had a quick smile and a quick wit, and kept us all laughing with her stories. She was also - whether this was a direct offshoot of her crumbling home life or not - the most sexually adventurous of us girls in the house.

I was one of three who - as far as I knew - had gone without any sort of partner so far that semester. Betty had claimed a count of seven, and she had winked salaciously indicating that at least one of the seven had not been male! That was only mildly intriguing, however; we had all at least stated that we had one encounter with another woman in our lives.

I had enjoyed two, both last year, with my then roommates. But that three-way triangle collapsed and I was the one forced out. So I had not been in any great hurry to go find any lover, male or female, in the aftermath of that debacle. Time had healed those wounds and while I would never again take either of my two ex-roommates into my bed with me, I was at least able to speak to them without wanting to rip their lungs from their chests.

I had not known that being a voyeur would be such a sexual turn-on, either. But there I was, standing in the hallway, and already almost unconsciously my fingers were undoing the button of my jeans and sliding the zipper down.

Because the sight before me was simply too stunning to comprehend. Betty was...well. She had on a really sexy set of lingerie. The black bra had low-cut lacy cups to accent her already big boobs. The garter belt hugged her hips, and she'd even connected the straps to the stockings that covered her legs. Her legs looked positively delicious in those stockings.

That alone would have probably been enough for me to continue doing what I was doing, which was to slide my hand, palm facing my belly, down my lower belly over my smooth, hairless mons and press the tip of my middle finger to my suddenly-aching clit! That's exactly what I did as I continued to watch Betty's helpless thrashing.

She panted and gasped, and her body's twitching strongly suggested to me that she was ramping up towards another orgasm. I wondered for a fleeting second before my fingers started moving faster how many she'd already endured. I had to bite my lower lip while I watched the scene.

She was blindfolded. Or at least a black, silk or satin sleep mask covering her eyes. Around her chest there was an intricately tied harness that looped around her breasts, the tie knotting over her sternum. I could not tell for sure whether her wrists were tied, but I had to assume that they were considering that her arms were behind her torso and the angle of her arms suggested that they were tight to her lower back.

Each leg had two...ties? I guess. There were several loops of the same white nylon rope high up on her thigh, above the stocking tops. Those were connected to her ankles, and there was a thick looping of the rope between the bonds. There was a smaller looping just above and below her knee, also tied in the center. She could not straighten her legs. From my vantage point I saw a double-length of nylon rope that ran over the arm of the chair she was in and traveled underneath of that same chair. Her legs were tied apart, connected from under the chair.

She did not have panties on, and I saw the tell-tale sign of a pink vibrator that was inserted into her pussy. It was held in place by a very tight-looking crotch rope that seemed to trap the vibrator into her pussy and held it in place over her clitoris.

But I did not see Bryan.

Nor did I look around. I heard her cries wailing up again, and wondered why she was screaming his name when he wasn't there in the room with her. Or was he, and I just could not see him? But I was far too busy touching my own now-searing pussy to hear a soft squeak of a door opening behind me.

But the soft, indulgent chuckle sure got my attention. "Like what you see, Beverly?" Bryan asked, emerging from my bedroom. In one hand, he held his phone. In the other, he held a length of rope.

"B-byran!" I squeaked.

"BEVERLYYYYYYY!" Betty screamed wildly. "HELP MEEEE!" she cried.

My hand was still down my pants, and I was standing there in the most obscene position that a woman could be in, actively touching herself to the sight of her friend and roommate tied up in bondage and driven through orgasm after orgasm.

"She was standing there watching you, Bets," Bryan said loudly.

"Ooooh you slut!" Betty wailed. "Why didn't you help me?"

"Because she was playing with her pussy, Bets," Bryan said. "Weren't you, Bev? Hmmm? You were watching Betty struggle while touching your own hot pussy!"

I gulped, my face I knew ashen, and that ball of lead so hot but heavy in my belly that I felt it might pull me to the floor. My legs were weak and my eyes wild.

"So which will it be, Bev?" Bryan asked, coming to a halt about a foot in front of me. He was a big man, tall and lanky with dark eyes that radiated something that sparked another deep sensation in me. I dropped my eyes.

"Do you want to watch some more?" he asked me. "Or do you want to participate?"

"FUCKING PARTICIPATE!" Betty screeched wildly. I saw Bryan's thumb move on the phone, and Betty's cries swelled again. "Oh fuck he turned it up oh fuck I can't not any more cums please stop pleaseeeee!" she wailed.

I gulped. The adrenaline dump was complete but I was held in place by those dark, bewitching eyes. Bryan drew his thumb down towards the bottom of the phone, and Betty's wailing tailed off to a soft whimper.

"Please no more please please no more pleaseeeee!" she gasped.

Bryan reached out. Fingers touched my cheek. Drew slowly over them. "Two bondage sluts, at my disposal," he whispered to me. "Imagine the possibilities," he said.

My vision being down, I saw the swell in his pants. Betty had mentioned once that Bryan was hung.

His fingers moved with a tenderness that I could not believe, and if anything it was that tenderness of touch that shattered the last of my defenses. His movements forced me to bring my face up, to once again look into those dark, soulful eyes.

"Watch? Participate?" he asked again, his voice almost a thunderous rumble.

"YOU BETTER TAKE PART OH YOU SLUT WATCHING ME OH OH OHHHHH!" The peanut gallery certainly stated her case.

I stuttered the first letter. "P-p-participate," I whispered.

He gave me a gentle pat on my cheek. "Good girl," he whispered.

Why did those two words make my heart soar? What the fuck was I doing?

He turned me, his hands moving to my shoulders. Slowly spinning me and then applying gentle but inexorable force until my nose pressed to the wall. Once I was there, he still commanded me softly to stay as his hands slid slowly down my arms. At my wrist, his fingers flexed and I was trapped by his strong digits, and then I felt the first loop of the cool material wrap around my wrist.

"WHAT DID SHE SAY? BEV WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" she wailed.

"Hush, my beautiful slut, or I'll gag your silly ass," Bryan rumbled.

I was not entirely surprised to hear her raggedly whisper "Yes, Sir." And she went silent, at least with words. Her breathing remained noisy and shallow, and I heard the shifting of her body on that chair from time to time.

Bryan's lips were right at mine. "Have you ever done this?"

"No, Sir," I whispered back into the wall. But I knew that adding Sir was not only correct, but also the right thing to do.

"Do you have a safeword?" he asked next.

"No, Sir," I replied again.

"Make one, right now," he said as my wrists came together. There was movement and touch and tugs. I was secured, my hands at my back, and I'd never felt such explosive, instant, throbbing heat between my legs before. Never. Never ever.

"Uh..." Is it any surprise that my mind was blank? So I said the first thing that came to my mind; my paper due on Monday was on the Shakespearean play Macbeth, so that was the word that suddenly tumbled out of my mouth.

He chuckled. "Literary nerd," he said softly, a gentle prod, but a prod nonetheless.

His hands moved and clasped the ropes at my back. "Let's go in, shall we?" He "invited" me into Betty's room. The heavy, musky scent of her arousal then hit my nose. How long had she been tied up like that?

"Now," he said as he jerked me to a halt, making me stand there in front of Betty, my hands at my back, my fingers flexing in those bonds as I tried testing them but already knew I'd never escape. "Since your jeans are already undone, my voyeuristic slut, let's peel them off, shall we?" I exhaled noisily myself as he did not wait for permission, and his fingers grazed my hot flesh as he took my jeans down. "Step out, now, girl," he said, and I obeyed.

His hand pressed to my belly, and held it there; I felt the rope against my belly. His fingers again bounced around my body as he encircled me, and fed the two ends of the rope through the loop against my belly. He drew it taut, not painfully so, but taut. It encircled my hips above my panties. He squatted and plucked the dangling ropes from behind, and then brought the ropes up and between my legs. Suddenly there was a pressure against my own wanton body.

I moaned softly.

"Moaning already? Mmmm maybe I have another rope bunny slut here." His chuckle was soft and indulgent. With a quick jerk, the ropes were made very tight, and I felt the rope separate my labia; even protected by the panties, the rope cleaved my sex in two and the ropes pressed against my hardened clit and I felt a rush of pleasure, and deep-seated need. There were more adjustments made to the rope, and then he tugged on my arms, and I felt my wrists being connected to that crotch rope.

The only thought I had: Oh fuck! Every movement of my arms, my shoulders, hell, even breathing added a subtle tightening to the ropes against my pussy.

He nudged me, making me take a step, that moved the ropes against my clit and made me moan softly again.

"Now, this being your first time," Bryan said quietly, "I don't think that you're ready for the full experience, like this delicious slut here," he said, pointing at Betty. She twitched and wiggled in response to his words, even though he couldn't see her. Or me.

"No, Sir," I whispered my complete agreement. "I feel a bit panicky," I added as that unwelcome and non-sexual thread wormed its way into my psyche.

"Okay," he said quietly. "I have an idea for you, though," he added as his voice had dropped from warm back down into that sexy tone quickly.

Betty had a wheeled office chair. He grabbed it and wheeled it behind me. His hands pushed me down onto the seat, and he quickly looped a long length of rope around my midsection and tied me to the chair. My feet could still move and I was not in any way uncomfortable, but I could stand if I wanted.

His mouth was at my ear again. "Do I need to secure your feet? Or do you promise not to stand up?" he asked.

Even though my mouth was dry and I did not think that my mouth could possibly work, I replied. "I promise not to stand, Sir," I said.

"Good girl," he said and patted my bare thigh.

He stood and wheeled me so that I could watch. "So the voyeur wants to watch, Betty," he told her and walked over, reaching and tugging the blindfold from her face.

I made eye contact with Betty. Her eyes were wild and glassy and unfocused, but the moment we connected she smiled, almost shyly. The moment was there and gone in a second, though, as her eyes continued up to Bryan's.

"Watch what, Sir?" she asked.

"You consider yourself a talented cocksucker, if I recall our conversation correctly?" he asked, his voice rising at the end, just enough to convey a veiled threat.

Her eyes dipped back to mine for a moment, just a moment, then back up to him. "Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Sir what?"

I watched her mouth and throat function as she swallowed. "I consider myself a good cocksucker."

"And what is it that you told me that you wanted me to do today?" he continued.

I watched as her face went through several pangs of powerful emotion - need, humiliation, want, hope, dismay. Her voice, once she finally found it, came out as a ragged whisper. "I wanted you to...to...mark me as yours."

"Hmmm," he drew out his reply.

My heart hammered in my chest just listening; I could scarcely imagine what was going through hers!

"I think you used slightly more graphic language, didn't you?" He finally said into the silence.

My ears rushed. Just rushed. The sound of a thousand oceans in them from my deepening excitement. God I was wet. I moved my wrists just to add some friction to my clit. God!

"I...I..." she stammered, and her eyes flicked to mine. Did she draw strength? I don't know. "I asked you...to...to paint...my...my tits..." she paused, almost hyperventilating, "with...with your cum...making me your...your...your cumslut," she whispered it finally.

"Yes, that sounds more correct," he said. He patted my shoulder. "And what do you think, voyeur? Should I mark this slut as mine with my cum?" he wanted to know.

Now it my turn to seek her eyes, and to wonder what I should say. The echo chamber in my head was empty then full then empty as no thought could stay. Maybe it was like this for Betty, because it wasn't my brain that replied. It was my wet, throbbing pussy that did it for me. "Yes, Sir," I said. "M-mark the s-slut as yours w-with your c-c-cum," I continued.

"Aaaaahhh," he said. He sounded so pleased. I hated him, for a brief instant. "And you, my dear. Are you also a cumslut?" he wanted to know.

"I.." My voice trailed off. I looked at Betty who, I swear, looked at me with pleading, puppy dog eyes. I swear her expression said yes you are, admit that you are, it will be better if you are, admit it, admit it!

The truth was, I had an ex-boyfriend who I loved to give blowjobs to, and I loved taking his cum on my face and in my mouth. I loved it. I came once, just from accepting his cum in my mouth. So if I was really in for a penny...I was in for a pound.

"I am, Sir, yes. I am a cumslut," I told them both.

"Excellent. Then you, my pretty voyeur....you," he said and patted my shoulders gently, "You will be the maid today. After I mark this slut...you will bathe her. With your tongue!" he decreed.