Sixty Minutes in (Bondage) Heaven

I write for a living. My crime and mystery novels sell quite well, making me a good living. I also write erotic bondage stories (under an alias) that are not nearly as profitable, but do get me invited to some very interesting gatherings. Such were the extravagant monthly orgies at the Montserat Manor, where the brash and beautiful cavort in delightful debauchery. Much of the mansion is devoted to simple swinging and revelry, but one wing is a well-equipped bondage haven. I have gotten some good ideas for stories there, and a few of my favorite fantasies have been recreated by the hosts and guests within these halls.

At the start of the last session, Christina C. invited me to join her later in the time-locked bondage vault for a tryst. Per the rules, she would be bound, and I would have 60 uninterrupted minutes to do anything I wanted to her (within reasonable limits) after our hosts sealed us in the comfortably furnished and well-equipped room. She was a busty, chestnut-haired beauty that had shared my bed in the past, so of course I said yes, reserve the room for us.

As a matter of fact, we had shared the Hourglass Room in the previous month, but that time, I was the one pre-tied down to the bed by the servants and then locked in with her. That minx spent the next hour toying with me, starting with a strip tease, then used her mouth and pussy to slowly drive me crazy with unfulfilled lust.

(She talked a good fantasy game, too, describing in thrilling detail the alternating punishments and pleasures she had in mind for me. It was clear she had read all my stories, and suggested moving my detective characters into my BDSM universe. That would be interesting; I knew that other author's works had been turned in to erotic fan-fiction, but writing my own? Worth a thought.)

Christina orgasmed twice that session: once straddling my face and once riding on my cock, but she only let me come once at the very end of the hour, just as they were unlocking the room. Tonight, we were both looking forward to my upcoming "revenge", where I could ravish and torment her. My plan was that, instead of a tease and denial session, I might mercilessly drive her to as many screaming orgasms as I could within an hour. She's highly sexed; I figured she was good for at least ten to twelve mind-blowers.

I spent the next hour biding my time, enjoying the evening with some good food, fine cocktails and shameless flirting. Going from room to room in the bondage wing, I watched a lovely woman (London, I think her name was) bent over in a strappado bondage tie licking a seated man's cock. I was invited to take her from behind (all of this was consensual), but I was saving myself for Christina. So, another lucky man graciously stepped forward to accommodate the lass's desire.

In another room, a man was strapped naked into a stirrup chair, and one of the hostesses was demonstrating various techniques for prostate massage and advanced anal play.

In the main room, the hosts were playing a prank on a couple of regulars; women who had tangled in the past and who despised each other. Unknown to each other, in separate rooms, the hosts had stripped, blindfolded, gagged and placed a bondage harness on each and led them to this chamber where they were secured together, standing face-to-face. Straps from the harnesses to the ceiling kept them upright and together. The left hand of each was secured up near their breasts, and their right hands were secured down near their pussies. Their gags were removed and they were allowed to kiss and fondle each other, which they did with gusto. After a bit of squirming and moaning, their blindfolds were removed and they finally saw just who they were pleasuring. The crowed burst out laughing as the two women cursed in anger, trying to wrench themselves free, but they had no avenue of escape.

Their boyfriends used riding crops and electric zappers to "encourage" them to continue playing nice. They were informed that release from bondage would come only when they had each made the other cum, and the last one to orgasm would be forced to serve as the bondage slave to the other for the rest of the night. The pair continued to softly snarl at each other, but threw themselves into a competitive lesbian frenzy of fingering and kissing. Friendly bets were taken by the onlookers. (I put a hundred on the one from Sicily.)

I did not see how the contest ended, as three of my friends came up and told me Christina was bound and ready, and led me into the Hourglass Room. Once there, I examined my "victim" with some astonishment. She was bound into a tight straight-jacket, padlocked, so there was no access to her boobs or hands. She also wore a head-harness with a gag, secured with a padlock, so there was no means of entry to her mouth.

Finally, they had locked her into a chastity belt that thoroughly blocked her pelvic love tunnels and clitoris. Traditionally, the bondage in this room was not so... comprehensive. I turned to my friends in the doorway, asking about the keys.

The three laughed and each held up a key before putting them in their pockets. "We'll keep these safe out here," Jimmy replied. "And we've removed any tools in here that could cut the locks."

So, it was an elaborate practical joke. (It was early April and I should have figured from the previous scene with the two women that shenanigans were in the air.) I rushed them and the four of us lightly grappled, ending in me being pushed back into the room. I asked, "What the hell are we supposed to do for an hour in here?" I asked.

"You write crime novels," laughed Ted, "so tell her about something you're working on. Maybe it's a locked-room mystery!" And with that joke, they sealed us in. Christina moaned and looked dejected at the prospect of a frustrating hour for the two of us.

But... it just so happened that I was working on a new book, with a new featured character. I was researching and practicing his particular skill set for more realism in my writing.

He was a pickpocket.

I looked at the key in my hand that I had lifted from one of the guys during the tussle, and showed it to the bound and willing Christina. She could say nothing, but her eyes smiled. At the time, we didn't know which of her locks it would open, (I hoped for her sake it was the bottom-most) but whichever one it did, we'd find a way to have our fun.