Missing Picnic Table

He heard a timer go off and felt Camille move away from behind him. The timer stopped and moments later he felt her again, mouth on his cock to get it sloppy wet. He was excited from the prostate massage he had received and was soon moaning. Camille quickly turned around and moved her ass against him, using one hand to aim him as she pushed back and felt him sink into her. The thrusts were an intriguing sensation, feeling him sliding across her skin. It wasn't her favorite, but she thought, this isn't so bad.

He held, tensed, and came into her ass. True to her word, she did not make him lick her. She disappeared from his touch, totally gone as far as his blindfolded eyes could tell. He was chained there, in accord with is fantasy, and she was gone. Again he thought he heard voices, but nothing came to him he could understand. He thought he heard Camille moan, but that made no sense.

Minutes later she was back. "You're so totally exposed, we need to cover you up." She slid the ring around his balls and the cage came up, locking his cock again.

"No, you promised. Camille, please." He resisted, but his hands were, quite literally, tied.

"Hush, baby, hush. We're almost done here and you got to cum. It's still dripping out my ass. Just hush and we'll go home."

He felt something at his foot, and Camille picking up his foot. Then his other foot was picked up and something slipped over it. He felt cloth pulled up his legs, then his hips. He realized she had put her hip huggers on him. He was covered, but with women's panties. She was gone for a while, several minutes, and he stood as much as he could, moved around a little, then knelt again. Seconds later her hand was on his collar. A pink collar, as he wore women's panties. The leash was clipped on and the heavy chain was released.

"Come on, baby, let's go home." She led him, carefully making sure he stepped in safe places. The laugh was gone from her voice. She sounded as if she had lost something, was distracted. As if she was in a place she did not want to be. A place he was very familiar with.

She traveled again the entire week at the end of April. When she returned, she wasn't as happy, and she didn't want to have sex with him for a few days. Ryan sensed something was wrong, something serious, but he couldn't pin it down. If he had known, it would have broken his heart, but for him, ignorance was happiness as Camille tried to make up for her lost week.

And of course, the missing picnic table came up in conversation. The chain to hold the table that no longer existed. A chain without a purpose that Ryan had commented on so long ago. A comment that had changed their relationship.

Camille told Ryan to take off that second Friday in May. He had questioned, assuming they were going to the park, and thinking May and park just went together. He didn't understand when she insisted it was that day at that time.

Sure enough, they were back at the park. The only cars there were Ryan's, driven by Camille, and a Jaguar. She had him wear the pink collar, and then convinced him to wear the pink dildo gag. His tongue felt the cock head and he hated it. She left him in the boxer briefs she had told him to put on, cuffed his wrists and ankles, and cuffed his hands together with a lock. He was quite well restrained again. This time, though, he was not blindfolded.

She led him up the path and went directly to the missing picnic table, pulling up the heavy chain and locking it before unclipping the leash. She gave him a sad look, then draped the leash over a tree limb, speared a plastic bag full of keys, including his car keys, on a small branch, and taped a piece of paper above it all. She walked over to where he was kneeling, pulled off his briefs before locking on the cage and locking his ankles, and hugged him. She wouldn't let go. Not until the situation changed.

A man approached from the parking lot. He walked right up to them and ran his hands through Camille's hair. To Ryan's shock, she didn't pull away. "Come on girl, say your goodbye and let's go."

She looked at Ryan and her eyes were wet. "I'm sorry, baby, but it's best for us both."

He looked at Camille, then at the man, then back to Camille. The man had short blond hair and fit the shorts and knit top too well. He was athletic and dashing and, Ryan realized, he was probably the owner of the Jaguar. He looked back at Camille. "Camille, I thought we, we would ..."

"Hush baby, Roger has money, a big house, contacts. I mean, the clothes he's already bought me, you could never do that. I love you baby, but what he can do for me, I just can't let that go."

Ryan was trying to think, but his thoughts were crashing into each other. "How?" was all he could manage.

"A girl at work introduced us about a year ago and we just really hit it off. Today is the anniversary of our meeting. He, he just is so good to me."

"You've been seeing him for a year, and living with, with me?" A thought came to him. "You didn't go to any conferences, did you?"

Her head hung down and she whispered, "No." The she looked at him, "But you owe him thanks too. He gave me the ideas of how to give you your fantasies. And you did enjoy the fantasies, didn't you?"

"And the pink collar, right?" The light was brightening for Ryan.

She looked at him. "Yes, and the pink collar, and gag."

"Ok, enough of this for now. I need to consummate this arrangement." Roger was pulling out his cock and stepped toward Ryan. "Ok, sissy boy, no dildos today. Suck a real man's cock. The man who got your girl."

Ryan looked at Camille with something nearing hatred, but she surprised him first. "He's my man bitch. He is not, has never been, will never be a sissy."

Roger looked at her in silence. He moved his cock toward Ryan's mouth. "Open up, sissy bitch."

Camille stood up. "Oh, I understand it now. Ryan is not a sissy. That was just part of the game. Look, if you want a blowjob, I'll give you a blowjob you won't forget any time soon."

Roger smiled, or sneered. "Part of the game? You stupid girl, it was part of his preparation. And I've seen your blowjobs. Remember who followed you through the snow with a camera to get every bit of the action from sissy boy there. And who gave you the idea of having him suck a dildo? I did. And you were so nice, not pouring every ounce of sticky, nasty cum into his mouth. You want to give me a blowjob? Oh, hell yes I'll take it, and Camille, I guarantee YOU won't soon forget it."

He tucked his cock away and grabbed her by the hair. "Quick goodbye now. We're stopping on the way home to grab her stuff. You can sell whatever she leaves behind" Ryan watched helplessly as Roger dragged the girl he loved out of his life. And then he was alone, chained to the ground, and naked.

Several hours later the first people showed up. They saw him, smiled, laughed and a few people walked up to read the paper left behind that said he needed a lot of love and enjoyed the taste of cum, both male and female.

By the time the sun set he had multiple streaks of male cum on him where guys had jerked off. He was at least glad none of them had insisted he suck them. The women came over and teased him, and one woman had sex with her partner right in front of him, then offered her pussy to be eaten. With is heart and soul ripped from him, he complied, but his half hearted effort was not appreciated and the couple soon left.

A little after sunset, a girl about his age came over and knelt in front of him. "Hi, I'm Lyla. The sign says your name is Ryan?"

He looked her over. Pixie haircut, cute face with a few freckles, trim, small chest and hips in short shorts and a t-shirt that showed her nipples. "Yeah, I'm Ryan." He didn't want company.

"How did you get locked here? The note doesn't really tell" He didn't want to answer that and looked for a way to politely avoid it. He found his escape when he saw the ring on her left hand.

"You're married?"

She giggled, the same giggle he remembered so well, yet different. It ended quickly as he started crying. "Oh no, Ryan, don't cry. I'm not mean. Oh, it's my question, isn't it? Let me help make you feel better." He felt her soft body press against his as she hugged him. That was all. She just held him. He lost his self control completely. She held him while he cried, drew the story out of him, and hugged him some more. A man came over and sat next to her, asking what was going on. She explained that Ryan had lost his girl, and it hurt very much.

"Damn," said the man. "Honey, you go right ahead and get him feeling better. I think the group is going to vote to let him go soon. He got up and left.

Ryan looked at Lyla. "That was?"

"That was my husband. Oh, he isn't jealous. We share, and we share with others. Come here and let me hold you and maybe you'll feel better."

"And if I need to fuck somebody to feel better?"

She looked at him with a bit of a pout. "Ryan, we just met. This is not the time to talk about something as intimate as fucking."

He nodded. "As intimate as fucking. Right. How could I forget?"

The group did vote to release him and Lyla was given the keys. She was all business, and he noticed she was not as naive as she seemed. She slipped him a note with a phone number. "Call me if you need to talk. My husband will know. I'll tell him. If I can help, I will. I'll warn you, though, I only fuck when he is with me and he gives permission."

For the first time since lunch he smiled. "Thank you, Lyla. Thank you very much." He started down the path to his car and the drive to an empty house.

=======

Lyla pulled the rope from his legs just a little more, watching his face for any pain, then looped the rope through the loop of the lock holding his wrists together and back to his ankles where she tied the rope on the side away from his fingers. There was no escaping the hogtie now and she stood up to watch him wriggle and squirm. He managed to roll onto his side, cock flopping down toward the floor, and looked up at her. She was much shorter than Camille. He still had trouble getting used to the idea of Lyla being his bondage miss now.

He had introduced her to the concept of binding him several weeks after Camille had left. She was surprised to learn that her husband, Cliff, knew about bondage and had practiced it on some girlfriends before they met. He just assumed because she was so sweet that she wasn't interested. Lyla turned out to be a quick learner.

Now, snuggly trussed naked on the floor, with Lyla standing over him in pink panties and sport bra, they heard a knock at the front door. Ryan looked up and said, "I thought Cliff wasn't going to be here until later."

Lyla turned. "He won't be, but even if it was him, he has a key."

Ryan was perfectly content to feel his cock stir. At this angle he got to look up at Lyla's small ass, held securely by the panties. He didn't like that her choice of bras pretty much flattened her completely. Except for the two prominent buds that showed clearly. He was saddened by her decision following a second round of knocking.

"I'll go see who it is." Wearing only bra and panties, she went to the door and opened it. A taller woman with red hair pulled tightly back stood at the door, fidgeting and looking nervous. When the door opened she had started to say something, then stopped and looked the smaller girl up and down.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said softly. "I was looking for somebody else. I thought he would still, but, I guess, no, it's probably best."

Lyla looked at her and tipped her head. "I've seen you before. I'm Lyla."

The woman flashed a quick, insincere smile and said, "No, I don't think we've .. met." Her voice trailed off as she saw the diamond in the ring on Lyla's left hand. "Either he moved or he works a lot faster than I expected."

A man's voice came from inside the house. "Lyla, I think I know, the voice, is that Camille?"

Suddenly the woman's head came up and she took a step backward. "I should go. I'm sorry to have bothered you." Her foot hit a crack in the pavement and she started falling. Lyla reached out and grabbed a flailing hand, steadying her. "That's where I've seen you. You're in pictures all over the house, but you smile in them. You're not, no, you need to come in."

"Please, I should just go, don't, please, I don't want him to see me. I was wrong coming here." She was putting up resistance, but Lyla, as it seemed she always did, managed to get her way and pulled Camille into the house, closing the door behind her. She stopped once the door was closed, looking around the living room and softly saying, "Nothing has changed. Except you, of course. I really didn't expect to see another woman."

Ryan called out from the dining room. "Camille, what are you doing here? After six months of nothing, suddenly you're knocking on my door?" He tried worming his way over, but progress was very slow. "Lyla, could you untie me please?"

She pouted a little. "I went to a lot of work to get you just right, and I wanted to show Cliff." His pleading face was still looking at her. "Oh, all right. But I don't think I can ever get it that neat again and Cliff won't believe me."

Ryan sighed. "I'm sure he will believe you, but if you want to, go get a picture before untying me. Just please, let me out."

Lyla got her phone for the picture, then started untying the rope she had so recently finished, running from ankles to wrists and back to ankles. He looked up as Camille bumped the table and her skirt raised slightly. He had already been questioning, but now he really got to see. Her hair was pulled back severely, She wore a full shirt with a high collar, and her skirt came mid-way down her thigh. He had never seen her in so much clothing.

"Camille, what's wrong? What did he do to you?"

She recovered from her bump and was backing toward the door again. Suddenly she stopped. "Who's Cliff? Do you invite people over for threesomes now?"

Lyla's face brightened. "Cliff is my husband, and look what he gave me for an anniversary gift. We think it was the anniversary anyway." She stood and turned to the side so her baby bump showed.

"Oh, congrat, so, but, then you aren't...?" Her finger kept moving from Lyla to Ryan and back again.

Ryan caught on first. "Oh, shit, no. My god, Camille, it's only been six months. What do you think I am?" He saw her shaking and she started turning. "Camille, I didn't mean it that way, don't leave. Lyla, keep her here until I get free."

"How am I supposed to keep her here and untie you at the same time?" She sighed and looked at Camille as the redhead backed away. "Sweetie, be nice, but we need to stop her from leaving."

Caught off guard, Cliff spread his arms and as she turned, Camille bumped into them. She was taller, and probably stronger, than the newcomer, but her surprise at running into an arm had her backing away from the door again. Cliff took a step toward her with his arms still out and she dropped to the floor, cowering and crying out, "Please, don't hurt me."

His eyes went wide and he looked at his wife. "Uhhh, Lyla, what's going on?"

She finished pulling the ropes off Ryan's arms and walked slowly toward the frightened woman. "We aren't sure yet, Cliff, but this is Camille. She knocked on the door less than 30 minutes ago." By now Lyla had reached Camille and gently touched her arm. "You're safe here. Nobody is going to hurt you in this house."

"How do you know?" the woman responded, snarling. "You don't live here, or do you?"

"Hey, Camille, I don't live here, but if anybody tries to hurt you I'm gonna kick them in the ass so hard you'll see my toes when they open their mouth. Now come on and let me hold you. No, don't hide, you're a beautiful woman and you're hurting. Come on, just relax, good, now turn a little toward me." Just as she had done six months before, Lyla reached out to comfort somebody in pain. Ryan pulled the ropes off his feet, saw what happened, and decided to put on shorts before doing anything else.

Sitting on the floor in this position, Camille's skirt had slid up her thigh. Cliff noticed and pointed, opening his mouth to say something. Lyla looked at him, squinted her eyes, and said, "Don't you dare. Shut your mouth and keep it closed until we can sort this out."

Ryan looked at Cliff and smiled, knowing how Lyla seemed so sweet and innocent, but she had a firmness and air about her that demanded attention and obedience. Ryan was glad it had been Camille and not Lyla who had led him down the path, but then he realized Lyla wasn't likely to be taken in by a guy with flash. And then he got angry with Camille again for having the nerve to show up after what she did. Only Lyla's threat and the sight of her holding and gently rocking Camille kept him from saying what was on his mind.

After a long silence that was truly awkward for the two men, Lyla gently turned Camille's head so they were facing each other. "Ryan has talked a lot about you. Your picture is all over this house. And when he's sane and doesn't have his head twisted around minor details, he talks about how you protected him from a throat fuck on that last day." Camille stiffened a little and Lyla smiled. "Well, that's what it was, wasn't it? Maybe you can start there?"

Camille looked past Lyla to where Ryan was still standing, unsure what to do. Once again, Lyla came to the rescue. "Ryan, Cliff, sit down. Better yet, get yourselves a beer, and THEN sit."

As they walked back into the living room with their bottles, Lyla was talking softly with Camille. The men sat, Lyla looked at them, and said, "No comments until she's finished. I'm serious. If one of you gets her upset I'm coming after you."

Cliff replied with, "Yes Ma'am," while Ryan nodded.

With a little encouragement, Camille started. "Like I told Ryan on, on THAT day, I was introduced to Roger by somebody at work. We hit it off and he asked to see me again. I don't know why I said yes, maybe it was his confidence, but the girl had told me he was rich and we were scraping by at that point. A few weeks later we had lunch and he was pushing for dinner together. I told him about Ryan, and he," she paused, "he told me he knew lots of Ryans and they were," another pause, "they were all weak and easy to manipulate." She looked at Ryan, recognized his steely stare, and quickly looked away again.

"After our time in the park, we had a lunch and he asked about Ryan. I shared the chain fantasy and he told me to go ahead and do it. After that, it was a regular push to go farther, use the approach of doing it for him, to expand him and provide new adventures. I really thought that was all it was. He actually had to show me videos of, uh, p-pegging, before I believed people did that." Again she glanced at Ryan. It seemed he was blushing as their adventures were poured out in front of the other couple. Camille told about how she had been encouraged to add a camera when he had his prostate milked. Then came the blindfold and when they were outside Roger followed them around with a camera.

Ryan raised his hand, and Camille laughed a little, that laugh he used to love hearing. She nodded to him. "You got all these pictures and videos. What happened to them?"

"They aren't on a web site," she said. "I'll tell you more later. Anyway, you know about the conferences that weren't conferences. Waking up in a big, soft bed with a sunken bathtub to soak in was amazing. I actually," she paused and lowered her eyes again, "I actually quit my job, so I would wake up and have the run of a huge house in any kind of clothes or nothing that I wanted. It really was intoxicating. And I got drunk on it. When he asked me to live with him, I said I was living with Ryan and I loved him. He kept at it for two months before reminding me I was spending almost as much time in luxury with him as, shit, I can't say it."