Hang on, Darling Ch. 02

All characters who appear in this story are fictional and of legal age. If you're not comfortable with the depiction of rough and non-consensual sex, there might be more suitable reads than this one for you on this website. This is the second part of a threepart story. I'd like to recommend reading part one first.

Feedback is welcome. English isn't my mother tongue. If you spot any mistakes that escaped the spell check, please let me know. I promise to check every suggestion and upload a corrected version. This is fiction! Some of the events depicted are hazardous and may cause permanent harm or death. Behave responsibly and with respect in real life!

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Viv

The basics had been insightful but now they wanted me to take part in a practical exercise. My husband had persuaded me to attend a bondage course. He wanted to spice up our sex life after eight years of marital routine.

I hadn't known much about the subject but was skeptical. To put it bluntly, Al wanted to tie me up. Why would an educated, self-assured, modern woman submit to her husband's will when women were just about to burst their bonds of centuries of male oppression?

Al didn't give up. He got back to the issue again and again and, well, I loved him dearly. There was no commitment on my part and there was no hassle either because the course would take place at our home. And Al was right, our sex life had become nothing less than dissatisfying over time. It wasn't wrong to try something new.

I stood in the middle of our living room when the two of them, Al and the bondage instructor, started to tie me up. They talked about knots and ropes as if I were a parcel to be mailed. The teacher poked me in the ribs just below my bra to indicate where to go on. They even discussed how to shape my boobs with the aid of their binds.

They passed a rope between the legs of my jeans and jiggled it to tighten the knot. I was wet in my panties and couldn't have felt more naked in front of them though I was fully dressed. To be honest, it was humiliating and abusive.

However, we'd paid the instructor for teaching us the meat and potatoes of that thing and I'd promised to make a serious attempt. I didn't want to give up early. What's more, I didn't want to disappoint Al who was so excited with the matter. Plus I'd got turned on, partly by the rope in my crotch, partly because of the two of them touching and guiding me.

When the master had gone with all his ropes and pearls of wisdom I didn't know what to say. Al took me in his arms and kissed me. Without further ado he undressed me and had sex with me, at first on the floor and later in our bed. He was attentive and skillful, passionate and imaginative, and a better lover than he'd been in years.

I decided to go on with our bondage experiment. I pocketed my pride and learnt to submit to his will. My sense of shame diminished when it was just him who knew every weak spot of my body anyway and never tired of telling me how beautiful I was. Quickly our sex life became better than it had ever been.

Around that time the stress in the job increased. The Miller case began to go off course. I worked long hours in the office and on the weekends. I was glad that I'd regained a fulfilling sex life by then and that I was also able to retreat to a more passive role in our loveplay. I abandoned myself to his fantasies.

One night I found myself on my back in the middle of our bed, stripped down to nothing, with my hands tied together under me and my legs spread and bent over me towards the corners of the headboard. The position seemed to make up sufficiently for my recently neglected yoga exercises. Sad to say, I couldn't get the job out of my head. The Miller case had turned out to be challenging.

Al went around the bed and checked the ropes. He seemed to be contented. Half-heartedly I tried to twist myself free but was widely unable to move.

Unhastily he left the room and got himself some iced tea from the fridge. I stretched my knees and checked the nail polish of my toes and the shaving of my legs and pussy. I heard him pour the beverage into a glass and return to the bedroom.

He sipped at his tea and put it on the bedstand. It was just inches away from me but impossible to reach. He sat down on the edge of the bed and tickled the skin of my calf and the hollow of my knee.

Out of the blue he said: "Tell me a secret, Viv!"

I was puzzled. Such kind of talk had never been part of our love play.

"You know that I don't have any secrets from you," I said matter-of-factly.

"What would you allow me to do if I discovered a secret of yours?"

I looked up at him. It was an awkward conversation with my husband dressed in his leisure suit above me while I lay naked and bound on the bed sheet. My pussy was prominently exposed to him and within easy reach of his hand while I couldn't do anything to cover myself. However, I had to admit that it turned me on as much as it unnerved me.

"I don't conceal anything from you, Al."

He got up, walked slowly to my wardrobe and opened one of the doors. I craned my neck and watched him.

"What are you doing?"

He lifted a stack of shirts.

"Stop that, Al, come back!"

He took the dildo out from under the stack. I'd mail-ordered it last year when our sex life had almost come to a halt.

I felt the blood rush into my cheeks.

"Let me explain that to you, I'm sorry," I wriggled in my binds, "I didn't mean to..."

"What am I supposed to do now," he asked sternly.

Without waiting for an answer he turned his attention to my bottom. I heard the smacking noise before I felt the sting on my buttock. The next blow hit the other side, and there was another one and yet another one.

I couldn't think straight because I was still embarassed about being caught in a lie. On top of this, I couldn't admit the unsettling fact to myself that I was turned on by the spanking more than a bit.

Suddenly I heard the gentle buzzing of the dildo. He pressed it against my tummy, just far enough away from my clit to not make me come. He ran it around my pussy and inserted it briefly but not deep enough. I wanted relief but he withheld it from me.

He spanked me a couple of more times. The buzzing started again and stopped just before I could come. I struggled in my binds. The ropes chafed my skin. I found myself groaning and tried to contain myself. I noticed the smell of my own juices fill the air.

Gradually the waves that started from the core of my body became more powerful and persistent until they finally swept me away. I only came to my senses again when Al had untied me long since, pulled a blanket over the both of us and held me tight. He'd undressed himself and I could feel his hard-on against my leg.

I was in love with him like I hadn't been in years. I took care of his manhood with my hands, my lips, and my tongue before I shifted into a woman-on-top position. I slid his dick into my pussy, moved to and fro, and made passionately love to him. It was then that I realized that I'd only just had an experience I'd never even come close to without the ropes. That night I came to change my mind about erotic bondage.

Two weeks later Elaine Miller fired me and engaged another lawyer. She'd been my most important client. I'd probably lose my job in the law firm. It was the very day we'd planned a pleasure trip to the woods for an erotic outdoor adventure.

I wasn't really in the mood for sex when I got home from the office. On the other hand, I knew how much Al had been looking forward to our appointment. What's more, I needed some distraction too. It might even cheer me up a bit.

Al was sweet and attentive when I came home. We could still talk later.

I was dressed according to his wishes when we drove out of the city. We found a nice clearing in the wood. Al undressed me and tied me up. It was just the second time that I was pulled up in the air for sex. At first I was scared when my feet were lifted off the ground but the ropes carried me.

I felt vulnerable and at his mercy when he looked me up and down. My submission was the greatest imaginable proof of my love to him. I'd been already turned on when he started tickling and stroking my clit and came quickly and fiercely.

*******

Suddenly he let go of me and looked for his camera.

"I'm just gonna get my phone from the car," he said, "I want to take a photo."

"No photo," I begged, "no photo, Al!"

Without caring about my plea he left me alone and went back to the car.

"Hang on, darling," he said before he hurried away from me.

I waited for him. Seconds became minutes and minutes became hours. Was he hiding from me and enjoying my panic? Was he secretly taking photos of me? I called his name. There was no response. "Conviction," I said my safeword but knew it was in vain. I started crying.

Suddenly I saw a jogger in the distance. I was startled to realize that our clearing was within eyeshot of a forest trail. He didn't notice me, however, and I was so embarrassed by my predicament that I didn't call for help. Where was Al?

The night descended and the wood sprang to life. There was a lot of chirping and rustling and clicking around me but I couldn't see anything in the dark. I was scared to death. The ropes were chafing my skin and I was cold.

Was there anything I could've done to save the Miller case? Failure didn't fit my self-image. I got lost in my thoughts. My long-cherished wish to have children came to my mind.

I woke up from voices in the distance. An old couple was collecting the first mushrooms of the season. Slowly they approached the clearing. Suddenly the woman fell silent and gazed at me. I blushed and couldn't utter a word. A moment later the man became aware of me too.

"Come on, John," the woman said, "that's none of our business."

However, John came slowly up to me. He didn't look me in the eye though. He bent forward and gazed at my twins and my unprotected pussy. With a shake of his head he turned away from me and went over to my clothes. He picked my panties up from the pile, sniffed at them, stuffed them into his pocket and followed his wife who'd already continued collecting mushrooms.

Why was Al humiliating me this way? What did I do wrong? Why on earth did he hate me so much? I was seething.

There was a person on the trail where I'd seen the jogger the day before. I cried for help. The man stopped and looked around.

"Help," I cried once more. He looked in my direction and discovered me. With long strides he approached me. At first he looked as if he couldn't believe his eyes, then he started grinning.

"What a bitch," I heard him say to himself.

He squatted down in front of me. His breath smelled of alcohol. Clumsily he wiped the hair out of my face. My view was blurred with tears.

Suddenly he was behind me and poked his finger in my pussy. I was exhausted, weak, and the ropes hurt me but the fear and the tension made me horny nevertheless. He could still have made me come if he'd meant to do so. Instead he stopped halfway, got his cell phone out of his pocket and took photos of me from all possible angles.

I closed my eyes in despair.

"What a bitch," he repeated when he walked away.