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Catch and Release. Part 1*
This is fantasy. I do not condone non-consensual activities. Really, I find it hard to believe that I need put this kind of disclaimer as a sort of preamble. I would have hoped that everyone would understand that no one condones this sort of thing in reality.
Warning: This file contains depictions of adult sexual situations, including rape, and bondage. If it is illegal for you to view this subject matter, or if you are under the age of 18 please do not view this file. If you find these situations unpleasant or offensive please do not view this file. The author takes no responsibility for any illegalities arising from the viewing of this file. The author retains all rights to this story and it is transmitted here by an authorised person, for free viewing only.
Felt like posting something again after a number of years away from writing. Hopefully the spellchecking and proofreading is improved.
Hope all you fellow pervs enjoy.
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Catch and Release. Part 1.
Or course I had been watching her for some time to learn her routine. I saw her come out of the side door of her house. She was on time to make the short drive to her Daughter’s school to pick her up. She was punctual, as always. I like that in a victim.
I spoke to her through the cell phone that I left for her to find on her porch, calling her by name - "Mrs. Carter I need to have a word with you about your Daughter."
It was important that I chose my words carefully, lest she fail to answer. Or worse respond improperly.
I watched her eye the phone with suspicion - then she looked around nervously before she picked the phone up from the railing and answered.
"Hello?" A stupid thing for her to say, considering the circumstances which were far from ordinary.
"Mrs Carter. Listen carefully to me please. The well being of your daughter depends on you following my instruction exactly." She did not say anything in response. But I could see the effect of my words on her. She staggered ever so slightly in response to them. She reached out her hand and sought out the railing for support.
"If you want to see your daughter again - you WILL follow my directions without question. Is that clear?"
She managed to respond with a mumbled yes which I saw was also matched with a tepid nod of her head.
"Turn around and face the backyard." She did so.
I let her know that I was watching her. "Very good Mrs Carter." She turned her head slightly while craning her neck intent on hearing ever utterance I made. Clearly she had reasoned correctly as I wanted, that I was watching her. And it made her even more nervous.
I told her to hold up her keys so I could see them and place them on the floor of the porch. She complied of course. Then I had her repeat the exercise with her own cell phone and finally her purse.
"Walk into the backyard - and stop at the gate." I watched her walk out of sight around the house.
"I expect you see the ribbon tied to the gate?"
She answered that she did. And I asked her to read what it said on the ribbon. The ribbon was a foot long and the print was small. So even though I could not see her I knew she was at the gate when she told me that it said "Number One."
"That's right Mrs. Carter. There are 29 other ribbons that I have left for you to find. If you look into the trees that lay just beyond your property you will see the next one. Can you see it?"
She quickly answered that she could. So I continued. "You will walk through the forest and collect them all. Untie them and collect them and bring them with you - all 30 of them. They are far apart but you can see the next one from the previous one easily. And when you get to the last of them I will tell you some more instructions that you will follow. And as long as you follow my instructions completely you will be reunited with your Daughter. Is that clear?"
Once again she replied "Yes."
"As you walk through the forest I want you to keep talking to me. Telling me each time you collect a ribbon. In between ribbons I want you to keep talking. I don't care what you say. Sing row row row your boat or something. Just keep talking."
I heard nothing from her. By this time I had walked up to the porch where she had just been. I made sure I could see her around the corner of the house. Her shoulders were slumped.
"Get started Mrs. Carter." I watched her open the gate and start walking. "I don't hear you singing Mrs. Carter." And at that she began walking and singing through woods collecting the ribbons just as I wanted her to - just as I planned for her to do.
She had left the front door open. I had the time to do a little exploring of her vacant house. It was very elegant and expensive, just like her. I noticed that she had collected the mail. There was the usual stuff but also a large manila envelope from her attorney. I expected that it was the usual stuff concerning her divorce but when I picked it up I noticed that there was a dvd case on the counter beneath it. Turns out that it was empty. The note from the attorney explained that it was the material from her soon to be ex husband that she was expecting.
As I listened to her singing and counting off the numbered ribbons. I rooted around in the waste paper basket in the corner of the kitchen and found 3 dvd's. One of them she had tried to break by snapping it in half. But dvd's are tough and it was only warped a little. The other ones were scratched up like she tried to deface them on purpose. This interested me enough to take them with me.
She was only on ribbon eight. So I still had a bit of time on my hands. So I went to her room and packed up a few things for her. If she was going on a trip she would need some things. I packed her a pair of jeans and a few tops. Some sweatshirts - normal things that she would take if she was going on a short trip. But I also packed some more intimate things of hers. Some of the kind of things that she could wear that I would enjoy. She had a particularly nice pair of ankle strap heels that I had seen her wearing on a few occasions that I thought looked nice that I packed.
When I was rooting around in her lingerie drawers I found two vibrators. One smaller than the other. I tried the large one and it did nothing - dead batteries. Sad that such a lovely woman resorted to her vibrator so much that she drained the batteries. Such is the lot of a Woman undergoing a divorce. But the smaller one worked. I packed them for her also.
I heard her read out the 28th ribbon. And using the few minutes remaining I tidied up after myself. Left the car keys on the kitchen table. Locked the house and returned to my own vehicle with her suitcase, purse, and phone. In the interim the weather had changed and it had started to rain at first lightly then increasing with surprising intensity.
Before she read off the 30th ribbon I interrupted her singing and congratulated her on her achievement. And told her that as long as she kept up such good behaviour she would soon be reunited with her daughter.
I told her to walk around the tree that held the 30th ribbon. She did and I directed her to a small bag that I left for her on the ground. Inside the bag I had left for her a litre of water. I told her to sit on the ground and drink the water and wait for me. "I will only be a few minutes and then we can go onto the next step of you getting your daughter back." She asked how long it will be before she gets her daughter back. It was necessary for me to be vague and I told her that it was really in her hands - I told her that she was doing great and that if she kept up the good behaviour that it would be minimized. I had by this time driven the short distance around the thicket of woods to meet her.
As I parked I told her to put the bag over her head. To make sure that she could not see me. She told me that she had done this and as I walked up to her I saw that she had. But that she had not sat down as I instructed her to do so. I got to within ten feet of her she shifted on her feet nervously as she heard my footsteps on the brush. Her wet clothes had begun to cling to her body and had become slightly see through. She looked great standing fearfully before me.
"Turn around and face away from my voice Mrs. Carter." She did. I noticed that you have not drunk the water I left for you."
"I wasn't thirsty."
I had thought that she would try and avoid drinking the water.
"Don't turn around. Pick up the edge of your hood and drink the entire bottle right now Mrs. Carter."
I saw her hesitate, not wanting to comply clearly fearing that the water was spiked with something. But really she had no choice. I only had to bark at her once get her to speed up. When she finished drinking the water I had her pull the hood back down, and had her pull the cord tight closing off the bag around her neck.
I watched her carefully for signs that the drug was taking hold. It took nearly 15 minutes for her to start to loose her footing. I waited a few more minutes for her to become even more unstable. Then I walked up to her and quickly snapped a pair of handcuffs on her. She fought back at this late stage. But in her drugged state her efforts were completely feeble. To make sure that the bag did not slip off I wound a few turns of packing tape around her neck. She was muttering something - nearly wholly incoherent words at this point. Frankly I wasn't listening - too elated was I in my imminent success. The final touch was a hooded jacket that I had taken from her house. The hood neatly concealing the bag for our short walk back to my vehicle.
There really was no need for any more binding, but I taped her legs together at the knees and ankles just the same. I also tossed a blanket over her body in case I drove by a bus or big rig that was conveying a pair of curious eyes.
I had earlier topped up the tank. It is a very long drive home. I never hunt in the same city in which I live. Another of the many precautions I have learned over the years.
Soon enough we were home sweet home together. Home is an outwardly ordinary house, on an ordinary street, in an ordinary city. But I am no ordinary man. I am afflicted with what some would rightly say is a ghastly hobby. Ghastly for my victims to be sure. Sadly, I don't seem to care about them at all. A definite character flaw that I am not interested in rectifying. I am having to much fun to delve into it too deeply.
In the basement of my house I have built a safe room. You know - the kind of construction that you can run into in the event of a home invasion. Mine is very secure. Except that the entrance way into the safe room locks from the outside. The doorway is in fact a large vault safe that I bought after a bank closed and auctioned off its assets. I bought it for a song and incorporated it into my deign. Only I know the combination. And I have incorporated another lock from the outside. Just in case someone gets lucky and happens to guess the combination.
I carried her into the safe room and placed her on the bed. She was still out of it. I removed her clothing and the bag from her head. I replaced it with a proper blindfold, underneath of which I had taped her eyes shut. I like chains and the ones I used on her body I left slack. There is a good 48 hours of oxygen in the safe room. She would awaken soon well before that anyway. I waited for her to come around watching her on a circuit I had installed to keep an eye on her. I cleared up a few loose ends while I waited. Took a quick nap and awoke with an erection which I gave a few strokes too. I saw that she was awake and testing the chains. I turned up the volume to hear her calling out for help. No time like the present, to try out my latest present to myself.
I was debating how next to proceed, between two avenues of approach. I settled for the traditional. Entering the safe room without acknowledging her. She settled down on hearing me and sensing my presence. When she felt the bed shift as I started to move across her left leg she started to move again. Defensively, reflexively - instinctively against my presence. I let myself down onto her leg pressing my erection against her thigh so there would be no mistaking me or my intentions.
She screamed out a loud "NO" and began calling for her Daughter. I left the chains loose on purpose. I wanted her to fight back futilely. I wanted to give her the illusion of successful resistance. I wanted her to tire herself out fighting the heavy gauge chains.
I could overpower her at will and showed her that by grabbing her arms and pinning her down to the bed with my weight. My erection sought her out. I slid my body down her length and pressed myself against her crotch pushing myself upward again. I only allowed myself to enter her an inch or so before withdrawing again. I sat back on my ankles between her splayed legs and let her fight and thrash around and struggle all she wanted. When she started to run down I repeated the process and inserted myself into her ever so slightly again.
After the third round of this it became a bit tiring - and this time I leaned across her and deliver a number of brutal slaps to her face. These left her quieted down quite a bit. But I was still tired of listening to her. So I took advantage of the lull to gag her. I chose a ring gag with the addition of an inflatable gag inserted through the hole in the ring. I could see that her wrists and ankles were already badly bruised by her exertions. She had been a real fighter. She was near exhaustion though. It had been a great struggle. I had plenty of reserves of energy. I had been in charge all along, and as I placed myself at the entrance to her crotch she realised this too feeling me enter her finally.
She squeeled and squirmed as I entered her. I fucked her with long enjoyable strokes. I loved the feeling of pulling all the way out pausing, and then hitting bottom again and I struggled to press every millimetre of myself into her. She still fought. She still screamed. Neither made any difference. But she could not do otherwise. Yet.
Hours later I returned to her. She had tried to close her legs and roll to one side. As much as the slack chains allowed her to anyway. I could see my cum leaking out of her still. I loved seeing her like this. Used - soiled. She looked like the very image of defiled. Filthy bruised, and dishevelled. Quite a contrast from earlier in the day. I allowed my hands to caress her face and she reacted predictably. With horror and disgust. Recoiling at my touch.
"Hold still."
But she could not control herself fully enough to comply.
"Hold still so I can remove the gag."
She managed it this time - the promise of the removal of the gag was enough to galvanize her will to remain calm enough this time.
Soon enough she was free of the gag. Moving her jaw and restoring circulation. I watched as she ran her tongue around restoring moisture to her lips and mouth.
"What about my daughter?"
I laughed. "She's perfectly safe Mrs. Carter."
Even with the blindfold on the confusion on her face was unmistakable.
"It's you I wanted. I would never harm a child. Your own maternal instincts got you into this mess."
She turned her head to the wall and started to sob harder.
"But to answer your question more completely. I expect that when you didn't pick her up the school called your soon to be ex to come and pick her up. Or maybe your Mother."
I idly played and toyed with her exposed breasts as I explained all this to her. How I never had her daughter. How she had been tricked.
She managed to choke back her tears to implore me to release her. I laughed at the suggestion. She roared at me that "You don't understand!" I told her that I knew all about her and her divorce from her husband and all of her outrageous claims about her husband.
"They're the truth."
"Oh I don't know your husband doesn't sound like such a bad guy. You know what I think? I think that you and your lawyer invented all those claims of abuse against your husband. I'm pretty sure that he never laid a finger on your Daughter."
"He did!" She shouted back at me.
"Ok he did. I really don't care one way or the other."
"You have to let me go - please let me go."
And at this statement of her I stopped her babbling instantly by telling her.
"I will let you go Mrs. Carter."
I could see the relief washing across her at my latest statement. "In fact when I let you go is entirely up to you."
She lay there panting in great distress fearing for the safety of her daughter. Her own safety still a concern but a distant second.
"Would you like me to explain a bit Mrs. Carter?"
She nodded. Then added. "What do I have to do to get out of here? I don't have much money."
I shushed her up. "No of course you don't have much money. At least not until you and that lying Bitch lawyer of yours take your husband to the cleaners you don't. Once you rob him blind you'll have lots of money won't you?"
She started to plead innocent - but I once again cut her off. "I don't care Joyce. May I call you Joyce?" A laughable query. Here I just kidnapped her and raped her.
"If it is not money what more do you want then?"
“I only want to borrow you for a while. Assuming you don't remove your blindfold and assuming you never see my face I will let you go."
At this she seemed to perk up a bit pleading with me that she would not tell anyone. That she could not tell anyone anything. I caressed her face some more and revealed more about my plans to her.
The thought of my plans for her, and her fear and confusion had me excited all over again and as I spoke to her I moved myself between her spread legs, causing her to shift again and resume her struggles.
"I feel like fucking you again Joyce." And with that I started to settle in.
She began to plead again, for me to stop. Begging me to explain what I wanted.
As I inserted my erection. I explained that this is what I want from her. She struggled against the chains all the while I raped her. Soon enough I finished and deposited another unwilling load inside her.
I lay beside her running my hands freely over her sumptuous body.
"This is what I want Joyce. But I will let you go as so as you can convince me that you like it when I fuck you."
Her whole body shook at the suggestion and she struggled to respond to the outrageous suggestion.
"I can never do that."
I didn't answer her. Not at first, content with running my tongue across her breast.
"That's up to you Joyce. I'm happy to keep you and fuck you. Again and again and again. For years if you insist."
The thought of years of this type of abuse... all the while not knowing the fate of her daughter was too much for her to bear and she sobbed with renewed ferocity. Rolling her head from side to side and crying "No - No - No" pleading for release.
I stood up intending to leave her like that. Telling her that she should reconsider her options and repeating my conditions for release. "As soon as you convince me that you like it when I rape you. Then I'll let you go. Just as long as you don't see me. Ever! If you see my face I keep you here forever Joyce."
She was lost in misery. Crying inconsolably now.
"The ability for you to earn your freedom is entirely within your grasp."
In effect I had explained to her that she could fuck her way to freedom. If she could master her own fear and revulsion at my touch. All she had to do was become a sufficiently accomplished actres to convincingly fake passion while I enjoyed her.
I left her the entire night alone in her chains to consider her plight.
I slept well through a rainy night, reliving the past day and the delights of my first evening with her. The next morning brought sunshine and clear skies again. The promise of an entire day of playing with her. Raping her was fun. Breaking her would be exquisite. That breaking process started today by showing her the hopelessness of her surroundings.
I found her awake. I reminded her about not removing her blindfold, and started unlocking her wrist and ankles. I let her sit up on the edge of the bed.
"I'll be back in a bit Joyce. As soon as I leave your room you I want you to sit here and not move." She replied that she understood."
I left her sitting there like that, and closed the door sealing her in again.
She remained essentially unmoved after I left. Though I did see her touching her blindfold gingerly exploring it. Perhaps she was making sure it was not loose. That would be a good sign. It would signify her commitment to conformity and her belief in her eventual release through cooperation.
"Ok Joyce - can you hear me Ok?"
I saw her look around and she said that she could.
"You understand by the sound I suppose that I am not in your room. Take off your blindfold and get acquainted with your home."
I watched her fumble with the buckle behind her head. It was tangle in her long hair and her fingers were numb from her long hard night, but she managed it eventually. I had left the lights low so she could adjust to the light easily. And she did too.
Needless to say her surroundings were sparse. Beside the bed there was a chemical toilet in one corner and a portable camp shower in the same open plan tiled corner for her to use. There was no privacy being offered in any part of the room. There was a folding shelf fastened to one wall that I left her suitcase on. For a mirror so that she could check her appearance I thoughtfully supplied her with a floor to ceiling piece of highly reflective Mylar on the wall beside the folding shelf. And that was about it. She quickly noticed the cameras about the room. After these few minutes I turned up the lights, which she of course noticed. Also she noticed a number of iron rings throughout the room, at various heights. Some of them were painted in colours. Blue, yellow, green etc.
I explained that I controlled everything. Lighting, heating - water - which was turned off at the moment. She could only clean herself when I allowed it. "The room is airtight Joyce. I am not sure of course, having not timed it exactly, but I believe that there is only about 48 hours of air in the room. If I don't open the door that is. If I wanted to I could pump all the air out, or fill the volume with something unpleasant or worse something un-breathable."
I let the reality of the situation sink in. While she walked around the room exploring and touching her surroundings. She looked the door over particularly closely. Spinning the tumbler in her manicured fingers. I didn't tell her that the door was also on a time lock. Only five minutes of every hour would the door open, even if the correct combination were dialled. Also on my side of the door there was an additional fearsome, heavy lock that no amount of her fiddling could overcome.
She looked at the chemical toilet with a certain amount of distain. "Go on Joyce. I am sure you must need to use it by now."
She looked up at a camera. I was looking into her eyes. There was only a look of dullness returning. Then I saw her sit on the seat and watched this proud woman go to the bathroom.
I began my lecture while she finished up. "I raped you last night for a reason." I corrected myself before I continued. "I took you by force last night because it was fun - and I wanted to. And because soon enough you are going to realise that you have no choice but to cooperate with me and give me what I want. It will still be rape. But you will give me what I want."
"Last night was my last chance to enjoy a good old fashioned rape of you." "So I took it, and you." I watched her put her face in her hands. I think she was crying again but it was too softly for her microphones to detect. I thought I had installed quite sensitive equipment but I guess not sensitive enough. I made a note of it - to upgrade their quality soon.
"So Joyce here it is."
"I shall take you by force no more. When you want to fuck all you have to do is to tell me that you want to fuck. In your suitcase you will find two pairs of handcuffs. When you want to fuck do the following.
Put on your blindfold. Then use one of the pairs of handcuffs and lock them to the green ring on the far wall across from the door. And then lock the second pair to the first and lock them around your wrists behind your back. I'll eventually notice your willingness - and IF I am horny and want to, I shall come in to fuck you. How does that sound?"
She still held her head in her hand but now she was rolling her head back from side to side. It was not speech per se. But her meaning was no, no, no. As though she was trying to mentally escape her situation.
Oh well. She would come around eventually. There were at least three things working against her. Desire for personal freedom. Saving her Daughter from her Husband. And if neither of those were enough there was always the issue of breathable air.
She would come around. They always did.
I left her like that sitting on the toilet. Checking in on her in a few hours found her on the bed. I am not sure is she had fallen asleep or was catatonic. A few hours later she had obviously gotten up at some time. She had had a little fit or s breakdown and throw her suitcase to the floor and scattered a few items around. Once again she had retreated to the bed as there was nowhere else to sit. Save for the inhospitably cold floor or worse the toilet.
All this time I did not speak to her or fiddle with the lights, or the heat or anything like that. I just ignored her and waited for her to show me that she was ready to fuck. Which in a few more hours she finally did. I looked in on her again and saw that she was wearing her blindfold and had put on the handcuffs as I had specified. Because she had made me wait for a few hours I decided that it would only be fair to her if I treated her with the same amount of contempt. I let her stand there like that for a few hours before I visited her.
I brought a comfy chair with me into the safe room, and closed the door behind me and sat before her. "So I see you've come to your senses."
She mumbled her Yes back to me.
"And your prepared to cooperate."
Yes
Fully cooperate?
Yes.
I mean if you don't that's fine with me. One more fuck you'll give away for nothing. Look at me will you. I'm talking like your some kind of prostitute or something. Fucking me for personal gain. You're not like that are you?"
No I'm not.
"Well maybe you weren't but you are now aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Hmm maybe you were like that with your Husband too. Kid, fancy car - big house. You did all right I suppose Joyce." But that's all in the past now isn't. Now you fuck for me." And I punctuated that last remark with a kick to her ankles to knock her a little off balance and get her legs spread a little.
"So what are you going to do for me huh?"
"What you want."
"Sure Joyce I think we both know that but c'mon use your imagination a little for me. Get me worked up a little. Promise me something. Tell me what you'll do to get out of here."
"Uhm. If you take me back to bed I'm make love to you."
"Oh dear." So I stood up and walked up to her and pressed myself up against her getting right into her face. She squirmed most delightfully at my presence. She shivered. If I let my imagination get a little bit carried away I would swear that her skin crawled at my proximity. "That's not a very good start now is it Joyce." I mean I appreciate the offer. You certainly are better that going to some pickup bar or something. You're a sure thing and all. But make love. Sounds nice but rather dull to me."
I could hear the metal handcuffs pulling taught and feel her shifting positions on her feet as she sought vainly to keep her distance from me. I twisted her body around slightly so I could gain access to the cuffs holding her to the wall.
"How about telling me you'll fuck me and suck me and rock my world." She whimpered as I took her upper arm in my hand and started to drag her to the bed. "You can do that can't you Joyce." She had started to say yes right about when I pushed her on the bed. She landed hard and bounced on the old worn out springs. She curled up in a little defensive ball that I moved quickly to stop with several slaps to her ass and legs till she stretched out a little bit.
I got in the bed beside her and lay on my back. She was on my left on her right side facing me.
She lay there too petrified to start. "You know Joyce." And I touched her ear softly. Next running the tips of my fingers along the gentle curve of her chin as I spoke. "I am not going to make you do anything you don't want." You got yourself ready for this." Don't be a tease Joyce." A gentle nudge toward my cock was in order. Its not forcing her to. Its just a little guidance. "If you have to imagine me as someone you love go ahead and do it." Pretend I am your husband or maybe not him cause you don't love him anymore do you? Maybe you never did. How about your fag hairdresser or maybe your mechanic." She shifted her position slightly to get her mouth near enough to suck my cock. With her hands still cuffed behind her back it was not easy to maintain the proper balance. She was avoiding getting on her knees to try and keep her privates out of my reach.
She managed to give it a few tentative little licks. "Jesus Joyce you'd think I married you or something. I think you can do better than that now." I lay back relaxed and confident in my power over her. "Maybe you can't do better than that. Maybe that's why you're getting divorced." Is that it Joyce - are you a dead fuck or something? Don't know how to please a man? Never learned how with the other girls in school practicing on bananas together?
I knew she could do so much better than the tepid, though still nice little blow job she was giving me. Taunting and verbal abuse can only do so much it can only get you so far. So I pushed her off my dick and hauled her up to the pillows beside me. She was really worried now breathing hard and choking on the saliva that was running out of her mouth from her not sloppy enough inadequate efforts.
I sat up and quickly removed one of the pillow cases. Her head darted back and forth trying to remain mentally on top of the situation given her handicap of the blindfold. When she heard me start tearing the sheet into strips I could see that she became even more nervous if that was possible. I needed to slap her tits a few times to get her to settle back down.
"Spread your legs." She started to but not fast enough but I didn't care I pressed my way between them and helped her keep her legs apart. I quickly enough tied a knot in the torn pillow case and looped it around her throat. The knot landed right in the front. When I pulled it tight it would nicely cut off her breathing. I held both ends off to the side in one hand and reached down to guide my erection into her with the other.
All I needed to do was to twist the torn fabric to completely cut off her air. I started to fuck her hard like I like. "So Joyce c'mon fuck me back." She lay there petrified beneath me - like a shaking leaf - too afraid to move. But a few face slaps and more twisting of the material soon enough got her hips moving in the right direction. I still had a free hand so I took her nipple in between my finger and twisted it cruelly. A choked off scream was the result and of course some frantic increased moves from her hips. "All right! That's more like it girl." Now I could release the garrotte. And she took full advantage of her chance to fill her lungs with air "Now Joyce this is the kind of enthusiasm I expect from you." I kept up the pounding rhythm into her. In between she managed to spit out "Yes and I understand." The nastiness of it all was starting to get to me and I slowed down and eased back. Grabbing once again the material which I now used as a makeshift collar. I eased myself from between her legs and dragged her off the bed and onto her knees by the shredded pillowcase. She landed hard, though she did not notice. "So I know you want another crack a showing me how great a cock sucker you are. Isn't that right!" Even before I had finished she started nodding her head and started to sputter out Yes - Yes. I made her beg to for a few seconds then let her get on with it. Releasing her from my grip. She threw herself at where she though my crotch was. Finding my hard on with only minimal trouble. Her efforts were frantic and amateurish, and slutty - and well received all at the same time. I could see her ass reflected in the Mylar mirror. And also her hands balled into fists. The few links of the chain holding her cuffed hands together were pulled taught together. She was pulling her hands hard against the cuffs. As hard as she could putting all her frustration into this miniscule act of resisting. The amount of effort she was putting into trying to break free was unconscious or course. But it was matched by the amount of effort she was consciously putting into getting me off with her mouth. She was doing a world class job at last. Her tongue was so fast as she passed it around and around the head of my erection. And the sounds that she was making. It was utter subjugation. It was just what I wanted from her.
* There may be more parts to this. I do know where I want the story line to go. It all depends on how well received it is, and whether there is any sort of demand for more.
Here's wishing you all have a healthy sex and fantasy life.
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