Invitations

No. Not yet.

Her heart raced. She hugged herself, taking a couple of breaths as if she were about to dive under water, and tugged the door latch. Sliding from the car, she closed the door and walked toward the house, passing between Devon's SUV and another car she barely looked at. A fleeting thought about who it might belong to was lost in the sea of anticipation and "what ifs" tumbling through her head, punctuated by what she discovered waiting for her at the front door.

A pair of handcuffs indeed hung there waiting for her, but not on a hook. They were attached by a padlock to a chain stretched high between the two decorative pillars. If she put them on, her wrists wouldn't just be attached to each other. They would be anchored to the house. She wouldn't be going anywhere until Devon let her.

She clasped her hands to her chest and was startled by the pounding within. It strained as if she had just finished a several mile run. Continually looking around, she mounted the three steps to the porch, all the while asking herself if she was ready for this. And, each time, the fullness of the plug and the wetness between her legs said yes, even as the independent, feminist part of her brain screamed no.

Leaning against one of the pillars, like some cartoon character trying to hide behind a skinny tree, she examined the cuffs more closely. They were real and were really secured to the chain. They hung a little off center between the pillars, but not exactly close to one. The arrangement set them to the right of the door. It also triggered her OCD. She wondered if it was to avoid being in the way as the door swung open to the left, though there appeared to be plenty of space either way.

She raised a hand and touched them, realizing how her arms would be held extended over her head if she put them on. Perhaps an illusion, but the metal felt cool against her skin despite the ambient summer night air being quite warm. She wondered how much of her own burgeoning perspiration was because of the temperature versus hormones and anticipation.

Tucking her phone into her pocket and taking one final look around, she reached up. She didn't quite have to get on her tippy toes, but was sure it wouldn't be comfortable to stand bound there for too long. She had to trust Devon's plan. She ratcheted one closed around her wrist, then the other, all the while her chest audibly thumping. With a final click to make sure she wasn't cheating, it was done.

She took a deep breath and looked around. She could turn easily enough, at least until the padlocked chain started binding on itself. The clear view of the street gave her first hints of regret. She was completely exposed to any one of four neighboring houses, and anyone who happened to drive by. She wondered what they might think seeing her standing with her hands above her head. Would they even be able to see the cuffs or chain? A wave of relief passed through her at having not taken the two-footed leap into this adventure.

Turning back around, she looked in the dark windows of Devon's house noting no changes from the moment of her arrival. She could see now that the position of the cuffs placed her directly in front of the narrow window that ran the full height adjacent to the front door. A very dim light glowed through a curtain, obscuring any view beyond. She could detect no movement.

She considered her next instruction and, after a moment of panic, lifted her left foot and reached out to press the doorbell. And, at the moment of contact, something flashed on her right. Stunned for a moment with her left leg sticking out, she could just make out a glint and the shape of a lens of some sort sitting in the front bay window. She wasn't sure what it was, nor could she identify the source of the flash.

In her confusion, she wasn't sure if she had missed it, but she had heard no bell. After a few seconds, and more hesitantly, she raised her right foot. Keeping an eye on the bay window to her right, she pressed the button. Again, she was rewarded with a flash, but this time, to her horror, she perceived what it was. The flash came from just above the glint in the bay window as the doorbell button had triggered a camera. It's position would have given it a nice view of her with legs spread each time she reached for the bell. That her plug might have been visible paled in comparison to how exposed her pussy would have been the first time. But, still, she heard no audible announcement of her arrival. Not wanting to provide another suggestive pose for the camera, she hung still, relaxing her arms from the strain of balancing her leg lifting, and contemplated what to do next. But before a solution came to mind, the subtle glow of light through the curtain was interrupted by the shadow of someone approaching.

# # #

Bethany 2

Bethany hadn't knelt there for long, though it seemed an eternity with the sounds of nature around her. Then, the distinctive breaking of the seal between door and frame startled her. Someone was opening the sliding glass door. She stiffened, arching her back and presenting the form of a proud submissive. Though she couldn't see them through her blindfold, she could imagine her breasts protruding from her chest, puckered nipples at their tips. Unable to move her arms, and unwilling to close her legs, she stayed in that exposed and indecent position as the first of several soft footsteps approached her from the house. The steps were accompanied by a light jingle she couldn't place, and also a satisfied hum of appraisal as Devon admired her. Inspected her.

"It makes me so happy when you choose to follow my instructions." Devon's voice was distinct and reassuring to Bethany, his words exhilarating. She knew not to answer.

She could sense him close to her. He had crouched, his knee landing on the deck close to hers. She waited in anticipation for what was to come.

His touch was electric. A slow caress on the inside of her right leg. Starting near the knee, he drifted inward, lifting off just before where her inner thigh met her mons. Then he returned, tracing up her right side, from hip to ribs. Then a touch on her shoulder and down her arm before withdrawing again, leaving only the air on her skin. Her heart thumped with anticipation. Her lips parted drawing a jagged breath. And she waited.

She shivered at the lightest touch of his fingers, one on the very tip of each nipple. A slow circular stroke, brushing the areolae, and outward with more fingers to a proper fondle of each breast. Then nothing.

She felt his knee move forward, coming to rest firmly between her legs. It inched closer to her nether lips, then pressed against them, the pressure of his bare skin warmer even than the summer air. His open hands found the sides of her face, turning it, directing it to receive his kiss. His soft lips met hers. A tongue teased and danced with hers. His warm breath mixed with hers. She melted into him, desperately wanting to wrap her arms around him. To hold him.

But she couldn't.

Her wrists strained at the cuffs, rattling the chain behind her back. Her shoulders shrugged toward him. Her body leaned. But he was gone again, leaving her nearly falling forward into the void of where he was. She settled herself, licking her lips, tasting the memory of his kiss.

She heard a jingle again, not from her cuffs. From something Devon set on the table behind her. She turned her head to understand the noise.

"Nuh-uh," he scolded, using a hand to turn her head back to the front. Then it shifted, taking up her hair, gathering it in a hand-held pony tail, lifting it off her bare back. The jingle, again, was followed by something soft on the back of her neck, and then wrapping around it. Encircling it.

The collar became snug, though not tight, and she heard the distinctive click of a small padlock below her chin. When his hands released the device, it settled with some weight. It was more than the simple collar she had worn on several occasions in their play. Testing, she turned her head ever so slightly left and right and felt the weight of the device rock back and forth. Bethany was fairly certain she knew what the device was, though she had never worn one.

Devon reached behind her and wrestled with her cuffs, freeing her right hand and bringing it up. When it was even with the side of her neck, about a foot from her shoulder, her suspicions were confirmed. A leather strap closed around her wrist to hold it in place. Relaxing slightly, the weight of her arm threatened to pull her off balance. She held it up as repeated the process with her left arm. Bethany was locked in a metal and leather yoke which held her hands to the side, away from her body. Away from being able to protect either her modesty or her innocence. Not that she wanted to do either.

He knelt again before her, his left hand pulling her head to a kiss while his right explored her body. Excitement raged through her at every touch. He caressed the under side of her confined arm. He teased and tweaked her nipple. He cupped her mons, snaking one finger between her lips, penetrating her innocence. Feeling her wetness.

Her body hummed, inching ever closer to release. Her breathing became labored as the tension built from his manipulations. Then . . . he stopped. And something tickled her awareness. A sound, almost like the flash of a camera. But that didn't make sense so her distracted brain dismissed it. She gasped as he rocked back and stood. Her heavy breathing continued through her desire to complain about the interruption. She was so close, but could do nothing to finish. She tried to sit lower, to press her pussy against the deck surface, but she couldn't reach it. She wasn't that flexible.

"I'll be right back," said Devon as he abandoned her in her heat. She heard the door slide closed again leaving her alone, more vulnerable and aroused than ever before.

# # #

Mariah 2

The shadow grew and the narrow window darkened until Mariah could make out the shape of a person. A man. Her heart raced. The pull of metal from vinyl echoed in her mind as Devon pushed open the screen door from within.

"Hello," he said, appraising her.

"Hi," she replied before chewing on her lower lip.

"I see you chose option 'B.'" There was just the hint of disappointment in the way he said "B," but it passed quickly.

"I did." After a beat she looked to the neighborhood and added, "I'm not sure I'm ready for everyone to see." For everyone to know, she thought to herself.

"I understand." He stepped to the porch, letting the screen door close gently behind him. "But you're here." He stepped close, his warm breath teasing her forehead. She looked up at eyes she could barely see in the dark.

His hands came up, gently making contact with the distended sides of her shoulder as her arms stretched above her head. His touch was light, and he trailed his fingers up her triceps and past her elbows to her wrists, bound in steel. And back down again, maintaining contact as he traced a line down each side.

She shuddered with a tickle. Goose bumps welled up, her nipples hardened. She crossed her legs and squeezed, as if ashamed of the wetness between. Only, the pressure made it worse. Or better.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, his hands exploring the contours of her body.

"For what?" She blushed at her own coyness.

His hands slid under the hem of her shirt, finding the bare skin beneath. He followed her belt line to the small of her back. His arms wrapped around her as he explored her clothed body. Frustration built as she couldn't return the near embrace. She wiggled her arms causing the chains to rattle, ever so slightly. "Are you going to leave me out—ahh." Her question died on her lips as his hands squeezed her buttocks and found the plug buried between them. Pleasure rippled through her as he pressed the toy.

"I see you can follow directions," he said.

Her neck craned, her lips trying to reach any part of his skin.

He stepped back, his hands caressing her ribs. His touch finding the bottom seam of her bra as it drew away. "Perhaps," he finally answered. She wasn't sure in the shadows, but she could have swore he wore a mischievous grin. "We'll see if you're ready."

She didn't know what he meant, but before she could ask, he placed a finger on her lips shushing her and pulled the door open behind him. He slipped back into the house, leaving her hanging from her wrists on his porch, frustrated with anticipation.

When the door fully closed, the curtain of the narrow window pushed aside, replaced by the silhouette of his head. She watched him reach up to the top and manipulate something, then the curtain dropped to the ground filling the narrow window with his form, looking back at her. She wondered what he was doing, and realized, in that moment, she was sure she wanted to do whatever it was he had planned. Though, in the next, she was shocked with an understanding of what it might entail.

The window frame had cleared — she had no idea what had happened to Devon because her attention was riveted to the scene that replaced him. There, through the entry way and the kitchen beyond, through the distant glass of the sliding door to the deck, was Bethany. Naked. Kneeling, with her knees spread obscenely wide. Her hands were held a foot to either side of her head by what looked like a metal bar. She sat patiently waiting, her eyes covered by some sort of blindfold.

Mariah stared at her friend in disbelief, for the first time wondering if she had made a mistake. Yet she didn't struggle. And she was annoyed when Devon walked to the sliding door to open it, blocking her view.

She saw Bethany flinch, perhaps surprised by the sound of the door. The other woman straightened her posture, arching her back ever so slightly. Mariah couldn't help but notice the shape of her friend. She looked amazing. It might have been because of how the position stretched her torso, or pushed her breasts forward, but Mariah's bi-curiosity bubbled to the top of her thoughts.

Devon knelt, just enough to one side for her to watch, with rising jealousy, as his hand touched Bethany. Caressing the insides of her thighs. Passing over her belly and up her ribs. Cupping her breast. Rolling her nipple. Each action elicited subtle responses from the woman, shivers and yearning leans. And Mariah's imagination went into overdrive with herself in Bethany's place.

Then, he stopped, leaving both women wanting more.

Devon stood and, with a hand on each side of her yoke, assisted Bethany to her feet. He placed a hand on the small of her back, and on her ass, and gently guided her through the sliding door. She had to turn sideways to avoid banging her bound hands on the door frame before continuing forward, through the kitchen.

Toward the front door.

Mariah's heartbeat peaked as she anticipated an awkward encounter on the front porch.

But Bethany stopped.

Devon stood behind her with a hand on each hip, holding her. His foot appeared between her ankles, tapping left and right, compelling the woman to spread her legs. Wider with each tap until her feet were even with her trapped hands. She stood there, stoically, her head level like she was staring at the horizon instead of into the darkness of her blindfold. Her lips parted with a gasp and Mariah's wandering eyes found the reason. Devon's hands had begun to roam her body anew.

Pressed against her back, his left hand traced up the front of her thigh while his right came across her bicep to her shoulder and neck. His left advanced across her abdomen to the opposite hip while his right teased the skin above and below the yoke's collar. His left came back to her belly button while his right caressed her chin, the nape of her neck, her upper chest. Finally, both hands came to rest cupping her breasts. He lifted them, caressing the underside, and brought the finger and thumb of each hand together to capture her nipples.

Mariah gasped, watching. She recrossed her legs, squeezing her sex. Stoking her arousal with the aid of her anal intruder, but she could only get so far. She pulled on her hands, wishing them to be free, but succeeded only in lifting her twined legs off the ground for as long as her wrists, pained from the metal cuffs, would allow. Which was longer than expected while she was enthralled by the wanton display of sexuality.

As the scene continued to play out, to Mariah's frustration, Devon had released Bethany's right breast, though he continued to manipulate the left, and lowered his hand to her belly. Lower still to her bald pubic mound. He cupped it, his fingers stretching over her lips. He rubbed, forward and back, a finger disappearing into the wetness within. Mariah looked up to see her friend's head lolling back on Devon's shoulder, her mouth hanging open with a gasp of ecstasy. She was sure Bethany was about to have an orgasm. But then her mouth closed in a grimace as Devon's hand retreated before she could find release.

He was teasing her. Mariah expelled the breath she had been holding in anticipation. She rattled her chains and swore, then looked around, afraid she had drawn attention to herself. But windows remained dark and the neighborhood quiet.

When she turned back, her eyes locked with Devon's. He was staring right at her. He smiled as he continued to molest his girlfriend, a performance for Mariah.

She dropped her eyes, embarrassed by her own arousal at what she was witnessing. Experiencing.

Movement through the window drew her attention, again. Devon had turned Bethany sideways giving Mariah an opportunity to admire her round buttocks, her flat stomach, her jutting breasts in profile as Devon stood before her. From this position, she noted how the yoke held Bethany's hands in line with her shoulders, ensuring her breasts stuck out further than anything else. She adjusted her own arms and rotated her shoulders, mimicking the posture, feeling the press of her shirt against her own breasts as they strained for release.

Then Bethany lowered to her knees at Devon's unheard insistence. She settled, sitting on her ankles with knees again spread obscenely wide, her face tipped up toward the man she couldn't see. Mariah's uncertainty of what was to come was brief and was answered by Devon's hands at his own waist. Lowering his shorts. Freeing his manhood. She inhaled sharply as the semi-erect member sprang free from confinement. He stroked it a few times, stepping toward Bethany until he was close enough.

The tip of his penis touched the tip of her chin, and her mouth immediately opened, though she didn't otherwise move. For several moments, Devon caressed her cheeks and lips with his tool. Her tongue darted out, searching, though he didn't let her capture it. Not until the third or fourth such encroachment — Mariah had lost count — did he arch forward enough for the head to enter her mouth. When it did it was spectacular. Bethany adjusted her balance and greedily devoured it, moving up and down his shaft. In and out he thrust, his rigidity notably increased. Her hands strained in their bonds, opening and closing, twisting and turning as they struggled to participate in her ministrations.

And as Mariah watched her friend struggle to pleasure Devon, the desire to assist welled within her. She wanted to be there, on her knees next to Bethany, serving the man who dominated the encounter. She licked her lips and recrossed her legs, hoping to get some new pleasure from the pressure she exerted. She wiped her mouth on her up-stretched bicep, only then realizing the perspiration on her face was not from the heat of the summer night. But when her vision returned to the action, and her view through the narrow window resumed, she froze. While Devon stood, slowly thrusting, matching the reciprocal motions of Bethany's mouth, he was looking not at his girlfriend, but directly at Mariah.