Matt Danger & the Bound Angel Ch. 01.5

She sniffled and shook her head no. The girl must have about half a cup of Irish whiskey in her by now. I poured her another couple of fingers.

“And these photographs have you in compromising positions, no doubt,” I said sagely. “Would that be of you tied up, or with other women, or both?”

She drank ‘em as fast as I poured ‘em. I’ve never seen a young woman polish off the hootch like that, I wondered if that came from hanging around with Buddy’s crowd.

“Both, I’m afraid.” She opened her purse, and I was kind of surprised when she pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

I didn’t mind if she burst into flames and exploded.

She lit a square, took a deep drag, and that seemed to calm her down a bit. With a cigarette between her fingers she seemed to be more of a dragon lady than without. It calmed her down and gave her some confidence.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But this fetish I have—it’s a sickness really. Just the sight of rope or chain, or anything made of leather… I just find it difficult to control myself. Beth and Felicia discovered this, and from then on I was lost; I couldn’t resist. Women, men, it would have made no difference.”

“Of course,” I said, trying to keep my voice cool and dispassionate, but Matt Jr. was already rising from his torpor to see what the commotion was about.

I reached down and slowly opened my lower left-hand drawer, careful not to disturb her train of thought. My lower left-hand drawer is filled with just the kind of things she was talking about: rope, chains, leather cuffs, whips, gags, all the tools of my own perverse avocation. Miyoko’s face was down. She didn’t notice.

“Even as a little girl, I used to tie myself up, or try to. It just excited me. It’s always excited me, even before I knew about…about sex.”

I found a nice, brand-new coil of three-eighths inch braided white nylon. Good stuff. Soft, strong, and very supple. I pulled it out and just let it drop on the desk right in front of her, studying her face.

Miyoko jumped. No doubt she was feeling the liquor, and had been lost in her own reverie. Now she looked at the rope, and it was like there was suddenly a third person in the room. Her lips parted and her nostrils flared. The cigarette dangled unsmoked from her long fingers. I saw her tits rise as she took in a deep breath.

Her eyes flicked up at mine just once. She looked at me and saw what she was afraid she was going to see. It was also just what she wanted to see. In her eyes I saw a woman surrender. I saw her self-control just slip away. It was like someone had flipped a switch. The look in her eye was begging me, but begging for what I didn’t know.

I got up from the chair and picked up the rope, walking behind her. “Go on, Miyoko,” I said, “Tell me about it.”

It was all she could do to breathe a few times. Then she said, “I’ve never told anyone about this, Mr. Danger. Only Beth and Felicia. I’ve never done this with anyone else. I’ve never done this with a man. I heard them talking about you when they called you. they called you the ‘bondage detective.’ I didn’t know what they meant but I… Oh! Oh my God!”

She breathed out this last as I stood behind her and ran the frayed end of the rope across her cheek. She tightened her hands on the arms of the chair, dropping her cigarette. The floor of my office is old, institutional linoleum, so I just ground it out beneath my foot. I took a length of the nylon between my hands, wrapping it around both fists, leaving a couple of feet between them. I put my arms down at Miyoko’s sides, slipping the rope over her and sliding it down her body till it was at the level of her nipples, then I pulled it back towards me, sawing it back and forth right over those excited little peaks.

“Mr. Danger,” she breathed. “Mr. Danger this isn’t fair.”

She closed her eyes as I sawed the rope over her nipples and she whined in a kind of feeble protest. This was almost too easy, and I should have hated myself for taking advantage of her like this, but she was sitting in my office in that skimpy white dress with her perfect porcelain skin, her jet black hair and red, red, lips and the rope just looked so damned good on her. She pushed her knees together and gripped the arms of the chair as I passed the rope down and up over her nipples, twanging them like they were little diving boards, and she just clenched her eyes shut tight and whined.

“Come on now. Miyoko,” I said. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of women like the feel of ropes on their bodies. Believe me, I know. Now, you do want me to help you, don’t you? And get those pictures back?”

“Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know. Yes I do. Only… Only…”

I took my Spiderco from my pocket and flicked it open. I cut an eighteen inch length of the nylon rope and held onto it while I dropped the rest of the coil.

“Watch now, Miyoko. Watch what I’m going to do.”

I picked up her right hand and wrapped the rope around it as she stared at what I was doing, her eyes wide with fascination or horror or maybe both. I know how it goes with women who are really into it like Miyoko. They can’t believe you’re doing this to them, they can’t believe the sight of themselves in rope. It’s just an incredible turn-on for them.

I did the same to her other wrist, then I said, “Stand up Baby.”

It was dusk in my office now, and the setting sun sent its dying rays through the Venetian blinds in the west window, painting stripes across her tight white skirt. The red neon glow from Wing Yee’s big sign outside seeped in giving the room a Hades-like glow, making it seem hotter than it already was, and evil in a deliciously lewd kind of way. (I love my office.) Miyoko didn’t resist me as I turned her around and found the little zipper high on the back of her dress.

“Mr. Danger…”

“Matt,” I said.

“We shouldn’t do this. It’s the photographs. That’s why I came to you. I didn’t mean for anything else to happen.”

I had the zipper between my fingers. I pulled it halfway down her back and the dress parted. Her back was bare: not so much as a tan line. She wasn't wearing a bra. Sure she hadn’t meant for anything else to happen.

“Don’t worry about that now,” I said as I pressed my lips against the base of her neck. “I’ll take care of everything, Miyoko. But you have to give me something to work for, baby. You have to give me some incentive.” I ran my finger nail down her spine. “And this is about the best incentive there is.”

She had a beautiful back and gorgeous, flawless skin.

“And don’t you want this?” I went on, so close she could feel my breath on her skin. “Don’t you want to see what a man does to a woman he has tied up? All the terrible sexy thing he does to her, the way he makes her fee? Did you ever feel a man’s desire let loose on you, Miyoko? I want to show you what you make me feel. I want to let it all out on you, baby.”

I could feel the little hairs raise on the back of her neck as I kissed her behind her ear. I could feel her grow warm beneath my lips and smell her perfume as it started to release. I pushed the zipper down farther, down to the small of her back. I could just see the top of her tight silk panties, the dimples in her lower back where her buttocks started.

I pushed her dress off her shoulders with my nose as I licked her back, and it fell to her feet without a sound. She was naked except for those tiny panties, and she was exquisite.

“Come here, Miyoko, back into the chair.”

I led her back to the leather chair and put her into it. I cut another length of rope and bound her wrists together behind her so they were over the back of the chair, causing her to thrust her tits out as if in invitation. She didn’t fight me. She was under the spell of the ropes: they took up all her attention.

I tied her wrists to the rung of the chair in back, and by that time she was breathing hard, whimpering softly and staring down at her heaving tits as if she’d never seen them before, shocked that her nipples could already be so hard. I stood behind the chair and leaned over her, took her breasts in my hands, warm and heavy, and I ran my hands down her naked body: over her ribs, her flat and quivering stomach, down over her hips, then around so that the flats of my palms were on the incredibly soft and tender skin on the inside of her thighs. I pressed her legs apart and she opened them with a soft moan of protest.

I don’t know how bondage works with other guys. I know a lot of self-styled doms (and I say fuck that capital ’d’ business) like to torment and humiliate their women: stick pins in them and make them eat garbage and crawl around on all fours and howl like dogs, but I’m not into that. To me, those guys are women-haters, guys with some serious mommy issues. For me it’s all an act of worship. It’s about holding her there so you can get your fill of her, about bringing out the fire inside her: inside both of you. It’s about getting to a point you could never get to without the ropes there to hold you back and keep you on the edge.

Because I’ll tell you this about women: they’re every bit as sexy as we men are, even more so. But they have problems in letting that out. There’s all this pressure to be a good girl and nice and polite and non-sexual, so it all gets buried inside. They need to be coaxed. They need to be convinced. They need you to bring it out of them, to force them to feel like that, to want it, to give expression to everything they feel. In fact, they need to you to insist on it, to pull it out of them, because on some level every woman wants to be a sexual animal, wants to be as physical and passionate on the outside as she feels on the inside. And the ropes are the best way I know to do that.

Miyoko now was getting off not only on being tied up, but on seeing herself tied up. She’s a shy and reserved girl, but she has a tigress inside, prowling around, looking for a way out. She knows she needs to be tied up for that to happen. She knows she has to be with someone who wants her bad enough to do that to her, who’s going to demand that she let go, who’s not going to let her off the hook. And now that guy was me.

“Let’s just see,” I said as I went around to my toy drawer and found a big-ass vibrator, a ten-incher. “Let’s just see who we’ve got inside, okay, Miyoko? Are you ready for this?”

She just whined in the chair. She was twisting her hands around, testing the bonds, enjoying her own helplessness, and wanting to know that I wasn't playing with her. Her nipples were hard as two cherries on the round vanilla scoops of her tits, the whole still covered with a carpet of goose bumps. I tore a good chunk of adhesive tape off a roll in the drawer, came over and taped the vibe right against her pussy so the head made a dimple against her panties, aimed right at her opening. I taped it to her creamy thigh and I turned it on.

“Oh! Oh no! No!” she sighed.

I threw a couple of coils of rope around her thighs, and pulled her knees up over the arms of the chair, holding her open, and tied them off. She didn’t fight me, and by the time she realized what I was doing it was too late to fight, and she found herself spread as wide and as lewd as in any porno pic, almost naked in the chair, her panties stretched tight against her pink cleft and the vibrator trying to burrow inside. She twisted, she writhed, she ground her ass in circles, trying to dislodge the vibrator, and I just sat on my desk and watched.

She knew I was watching too, and that’s what made it especially shameful for her. Exciting too. It’s one thing for a girl to let her slut out in private, it’s quite another to let someone else see her acting like that, see who she is inside, especially a little tight-ass like Miyoko. She groaned. She gasped and whined. She threw her head back and bit her lip, trying to deny the sensations from that humming little buzz bomb between her legs, trying to hide her feelings from my scrutiny, all the while knowing I was watching her.

I left her squirming in the chair and went back to my toy drawer. I found a set of nipple clamps and untangled then from the rest of the stuff and brought them around to where Miyoko was still slowly grinding her hips against the chair and moaning. Her eyes went wide for an instant when she saw them, but she wasn’t going anywhere and there was nothing she could do.

I turned off the vibe. “Hold still,” I told her.

That was hard for her to do, as she was panting from the vibe and her big tits were rising and falling on her chest. I leaned over and sucked one of her nipples into my mouth. Miyoko’s entire nipple was hard, not just the tip. The areole was puckered out too, like a little Chinese hat, and I sucked it into my mouth and rolled my tongue around the edge, feeling where the turgid convex disc merged with the soft skin of her breast. I could feel the beating of her heart through my lips on her nipple.

Once it was nice and hard, I slid the arms of the tweezer over it and clamped them in place. Miyoko kept her eyes closed and bit her lip, but she couldn’t keep a little whine from escaping her lips as I drew the legs of the clamp together. I did the same to the other breast, teasing the nipple into erection, but then I stopped and drubbed the peak back and forth with my thumb, enjoying the way she jerked and gasped. I fixed the clamp to it and stood back. The silver chain hung in a graceful arc from her nipples, swinging as her tits rose and fell with her excited breathing.

I turned the vibrator back on and she jumped as if a snake had bit her. It started up just where it had left off, with Miyoko fighting to hold on to her composure in spite of the lewd and obscene spectacle I’d made of her. She looked like the perfect little BDSM slut now with her tits chained together and the buzzing dildo pressing hard into her wet pussy. I parked my ass on the edge of my desk and lit a cigarette, just studying her for a while.

That cigarette was destined to go unfinished though. She was just too sexy sitting there trembling under this obscene assault. She was moaning and whimpering constantly now and my cock was screaming to be let out and find some relief between the bright red lips. I stood up, stepped out of my shoes and socks, opened my pants and pulled down my shorts.

Despite her obvious distractions, Miyoko couldn’t keep her eyes from my big prick as it spring up from my shorts. There was a look a fascinated horror in her eyes, but there was no way she was going to be able to resist me now. From the looks of her she was close to popping off herself right then and there, and I was tempted to let her. I’d like to see this perfect little China doll come right then and there, knowing I was watching her get her slutty rocks off from a buzzing piece of plastic.

But this was too good to resist. I grabbed a riding crop out of the bottom drawer and went to the chair. Miyoko looked up at me pleadingly, begging me for some relief and pleading for me not to shame her at the same time. I ignored the look in her eyes, grabbed a handful of that midnight black hair and twisted her head around to face my evil, oozing snake. She fought the urge for a moment and then seemed to surrender to her own lust and opened her mouth. Her lips reached for me, trembling with excitement, and then I plunged it in.

If she’d ever sucked a cock before than I’m Mr. Rogers. She had no technique, no fancy tricks: she just sucked like she wanted it inside her belly. (Is that something that women just instinctively know how to do? Or is that something all us humans do? That when you’re presented with something long and thin you just open your mouth and suck on it?) I didn’t know, but the sight of those brilliant red lips on my stalk send chills up my spine. I held her head in my right hand, with my left I tapped the end of the crop against her panties about where her clit should be.

“Oh Mr. Danger! Please! Oh God!” she wailed, pulling her face off my cock. “Don’t make me! It’s too much! I…”

Whatever she was going to say was muffled by my big cock as it sunk between her lips again, squooshing in and out of her saliva-filled mouth. I kept it up with the crop--tap, tap, tap—as her hips churned in the chair and the vibrator hummed away. When I felt the first shard of orgasmic pleasure start to gather in my balls I stopped. I pulled my dick from her mouth and quickly untied her legs and wrists from the chair. She yelled when I pulled the vibrator and the tape off her leg—it must have hurt—but she when I pushed her down on the sofa, she immediately assumed the position: knees up and spread.

I ripped her panties down off her legs, exposed that perfect pussy with its little wisp of fine black hair, then my cock seemed to just pull me down on top of her and I sank into her buttery depths.

“Oh! Oh my! Oh yes!” she cried.

I hooked my arms behind her knees and pushed her legs back up to her chest and my big hard cock spread that little pussy wide as it sunk into her.

I don’t know what kind of games she was playing up at the Tremaine’s, but no one had been trampling around in that pink little vineyard recently, I can tell you that. Miyoko was as tight as a miser’s fist and despite all her gyno-grease I had to do some pushing and grunting to get it all in. She raised her head to watch my cock sinking into her, then clenched her eyes shut and slammed her head back down on the couch as if the sight had burned her eyes, but in a moment she was looking again, not wanting to miss a second of her own violation by my big, hungry cock

She had such an innocent little face,: a little China doll with a red-hot slut engine inside, an engine that was getting its first taste of high-octane fucking. Once I got it sunk inside her and got over that first maddening squeeze of tight Japanese cooze, I got my knees under me and lifted my ass, trying to pull out of her so I could give it to her again and officially claim her as a prize.

Miyoko stuck to me like a bug on a pin, wailing as I pulled her pussy out with my thick cock; she was that tight. I could feel it when she groaned; I could feel it when she breathed or gasped. I could feel the puffy lips of her cunt spread wide and squashed flat by my own pubic bone. I could feel the tiny finger of her clit tenderly tapping the top of my stalk. I was in her throat-deep.

“Oooh, Mr. Danger… Matt…” she cooed, begging me to spare her life. She didn’t want to come, didn’t want to lose face by showing me what a whore she was for me, but I could tell she didn’t have a chance. Miyoko was the kind of girl who spent all her time in high school and college in hard work and study and marimba practice and never had any time to screw around or find out what really made the world go round. Now she was getting a late lesson: a master class in the ways of a man with a maid

I worked my hands down to her ass, which was already slick with her overflowing lubrications. I grabbed those melons and spread her apart and pulled her up onto my pole. Miyoko sobbed with joy to feel that thick hard meat inside her pushing her insides around, and then she gasped with embarrassment at her own enthusiasm. She was shaming herself, and putting on quite a show doing so, and meanwhile tugging at the ropes that bound her wrists, loving her own captivity.

The ropes. The ropes that were everything for her. They were her freedom, her permission; they allowed her to pretend that she wasn't involved, that she wasn't loving having my big log sawing in and out of her dripping cunt, that she didn’t love feeling me going crazy on top of her. It’s every woman’s fantasy: to be so sexy and so desirable that a man would stop at nothing to take her and fuck her, and now Miyoko was living the dream. That’s why she came over here with her makeup perfect in that tight white dress, without a bra, without a stitch on that perfect body. Bondage detective, huh? I’d show her bondage detective!