Playtime Ch. 01

Prologue

I was lonely. I looked around the big house and thought about how happy my parents and grandparents had been here. My mother had attracted my father with her good looks and sweet nature, but had held him with her knowledge of how to gently dominate him. He had been more than willing to go along with her, and they had loved one another deeply. He had died before I'd been born, and my mother had been devastated. She had never gotten over his death, and had passed away before my fifteenth birthday, when she had finally decided she couldn't live without him.

Joyce just held me. We'd been together since we'd both been sixteen, and all alone in the world. I was just recovering from my grandmother's death, and she had been running from a domineering mother. I'd found her living on the streets and brought her into my home, and we'd become best friends. She had brought her own special knowledge to my little family, and I'd given her the time, opportunities, and attention she hadn't had in her mother's house.

We'd finished high school and gone through college, she in accounting and I in history, and now had come back to my hometown to make my family's house a home once more. With us, we'd brought baby, Joyce's lover and often times submissive. He was a man who had been blessed with many abilities and an abundance of good sense. Older than us by almost four years, he served our household as housekeeper, occasionally chef, and adviser.

The only problem was that I hadn't found someone I could love and take care of like Joyce and baby. There was only one way I knew of to remedy that. I'd seen the man I wanted, and now I just had to acquire him.

Jason was confused by what was happening, but eager for the fun to begin. He hadn't known who the author of the note had been, but he'd been noticing the pretty redhead following him around all week, and wanted to know why.

Chapter One

He was tied to an iron bed with the scrolled bars on the headboard and footboard. The canopy itself was sheer and black and the sheets, black satin trimmed with a thin ribbon of red. The red pillowcases had a thin ribbon of black. We'd dispensed with the blankets since we had a tendency to end up tangled in them. The floor was of mahogany stained hardwood, with matching cupboards around the room, and a black stained Saint Andrew's cross in the corner with leather cuffs hanging from it by chains. Shiny handcuffs, freshly polished, hung from all four of the posts of the bed. The man had been dressed in a black lace baby doll nightie, much to his humiliation, and cuffed to the head and foot of the bed. He'd fought against his bonds and his wrists were getting slightly raw and bloody from them. I felt bad about that, knowing it was my fault he was here. Our job was to make him forget that we were holding him as our prisoner and help him relax into our dungeon. The captive looked to Joyce for sympathy.

"Help me." His sad brown eyes pleaded with her for assistance she would not give.

"You haven't said the magic word." I looked at the young man lying in our dungeon. He had hair the color of honey, but it was tangled and matted from his struggles, and his heart-shaped face was stained with traces of tears. His next to naked body was strong and lean, with a flat stomach and smoothly muscled arms. He had broad shoulders, narrowing down to slim hips and long legs. He looked at us with curiosity mixed with caution.

Since it was a holiday, Joyce had dressed for the occasion in black spandex with jet beads trimming it. Her curves showed up well against her slender body. Her dark hair hung loose around her shoulders.

I wore red leather in contrast, with sparkling red Swarovski crystals at my neck and wrists. Taller and heavier than Joyce, I was also stronger. I had tied my auburn hair back in a braid and wrapped it around my head so it would be out of the way. Both of our feet were bare and the floor was cold underneath them. We would turn up the heat when our victim bowed to our demands. He shivered more with cold than with fear.

From the cupboards, we each pulled out our favorite toy. Joyce selected a medium sized vibrator with four settings. She turned it on low as she flicked it over the tip of his penis, allowing it to linger there for several seconds. Moving it a little lower, she slid it under his cock, running it down the ridge underneath to his jewels, turning up the speed to the next setting, running around them to the little slip of flesh that ran back to his anus. The man on the bed groaned and his cock hardened.

"Oh my God! Please, don't do that."

I knew it felt good, and his sad expression turned to one of puzzlement. He had been assuming we were going to hurt him.

I ran the flogger over his chest very lightly while Joyce continued to tease at his balls. The sensation of the little cat was ticklish rather than harsh. Unlocking his left hand and foot, I told him "Turn over."

When he didn't turn right away, I reached for my next favorite toy, a whip, and he whimpered and turned to the right.

"Please, don't hurt me." He once again looked for a pity that wouldn't come.

I locked him to the bedpost and unfastened his right hand and foot, flipping him over and fastening him again, face down. Joyce reached for the bottle of lubricant, as did I. I lubed my fingers and slipped one into his hole, wiggling it around until there was room for two.

Even though I tried to be gentle, he was very tight, and gasped at the pain. Moving slowly and allowing him to relax before every move, I inserted the second finger and stretched him a little farther. He squirmed and fought some more, but I continued to gently spread his hole. When he was loose enough, I added a third finger, looking at Joyce. He pushed against the sensation, unthinkingly making my job easier.

I thought he was ready for the vibrator again, and nodded as she slipped it into his anus. Moving it around, she struck his prostate, making him gasp with pleasure instead of pain, and I began using the flogger again.

This time I used it just a little harder, making the thin red stripes stand out under the lacy black nightgown we had dressed him in. I pulled it up far enough to see his arse, and started beating him lightly; keeping time to the rhythm Joyce had set up with the vibe. The stripes slowly got redder as I whipped him harder and harder. The lesson we were trying to teach him was that pain equals pleasure, and he was learning it rapidly.

"Please, don't stop. That feels good." He moaned with the feeling of the vibe on his prostate and the whip across his buttocks.

That's my good pet." I encouraged him.

Joyce withdrew the vibrator from his hole and slid it down between his spread legs to once again tickle his testicles. He soon began screaming for release and I threw the flogger to the floor, dragging my fingernails across his sensitized skin instead. Joyce moved the vibe away from his body and I took a feather from the chest, tickling him gently with it. It was all he took and he came into the satin sheets.

I reached over, taking his sweaty face in my hands and kissing him. "Good-bye, my pet. We'll be back later to see you again,"

"Wait, why are you doing this? I thought you were going to hurt me." His expression warred between perplexity at his situation, and, for some ungodly reason, admiration.

We just might, my love.Shaking my head in silence, I flipped the black lace down across his reddened bottom and pulled a white thermal blanket out of the cupboard to lay across him, leaving him not knowing how long it would be until our return.

Jason relaxed under the warm blankets. Although his wrists and ankles were starting to go numb, he decided he didn't mind being bound by these lovely women. Now he knew where the note had come from, and who the redheaded girl was who had followed him.