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CH 42
I woke up at one o’clock. Dianne was still asleep and Mary was snoring away in the other bedroom so I tiptoed into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. I was stiff and sore, so after eating I filled the tub and had another long soak.
After an hour in the bath I got out and got dressed. I was going out the door when Dianne came into the living room.
“Where are you off to?” she asked.
“Back to my place.”
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I’m starving. Want to get something to eat?”
Even after my sandwich I was still hungry.
“Sure.”
I leaned on the door jamb while she got ready.
Dianne got dressed quickly. An old pro at covering her bruises, she slipped into slacks and a long sleeved turtle necked sweater. I was wearing the same type of clothes. There were some light bruises on her face from all the slaps she’d received but she quickly covered them with makeup.
“You’re pretty good at that,” I commented.
“Lots of practice,” she replied. When she was done she looked like a normal upscale blonde. Her clothes weren’t expensive and her only jewelry was a pair of ear rings, but she looked classy. No one would guess that beneath her clothes her body was a testimony to torture.
We peeked in on Mary but she was still sound asleep.
“Where do you want to eat?” Dianne asked as we left. We decided on a restaurant and drove our own cars. Inside we took a quiet booth. The restaurant was near the downtown financial district and there were a lot of professional men there. Dianne attracted a lot of admiring looks.
“Do you come her often?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” she replied. “The food is good and when I’m feeling naughty I like to flash my legs at the boys.” She tilted her head at the room full of men.
“Well, I don’t think you’ll be spreading your legs for a while,” I said. “At least, not in public.”
“You think I should only spread my legs in private?” Dianne asked.
“Until the bruises go away,” I said.
“That’s the problem with torture,” she said, then stretched sensuously. “But the pleasure is worth it.”
“I thought I was a bad girl,” I said, “But I don’t think I’m even in your league.”
“Don’t be so sure,” she said. “Denise and Mary told me about you. They’re impressed with your abilities. And I saw you take some pretty severe pain last night.”
“How could you see anything?” I marveled. “Every time I looked you were thrashing around like a mad woman.”
“Oh, I saw you.” She chuckled. “You were rather taken by that church wife, weren’t you?”
“Why do you say that?”
“While she was learning to take a cock up her ass I saw you hanging by your wrists while some guy whipped your boobs.”
“So?”
“You weren’t paying the least attention to what he was doing to you,” she said. “You were watching that other gal.”
“Oh.”
“Now either your breasts have become desensitized, or he was lousy with a whip, or you were so concerned with her that you didn’t notice.”
“Guilty on the third count,” I confessed. “My boobs are ok, and he did an adequate job with the whip.”
“Only adequate?”
I shrugged. “I’ve been whipped better than that, but I’ve had worse too.”
“I know. There’s nothing I more frustrating than somebody who’s weak with the whip. I hate that.”
“Gee, I never would have guessed.”
She laughed.
Our food arrived and we ate quietly for a while.
“I like your mother daughter act with that older woman,” Dianne said. “You two are very convincing.”
“We’ve had lots of practice,” I said. “I’ve been helping her with her fantasies for so long that I feel part of the family. She and her husband are wonderful people. They’ve sort of adopted me.”
“So Denise tells me.”
“Actually I was surprised to see Lady L at the party,” I said. “I’ve never known her to take serious punishment like that.”
“Oh?”
“She’s more into exhibitionism,” I said. “With a little bondage thrown in.”
“She took some hard core torture last night,” Dianne observed. “And she didn’t seem to mind.”
“I know,” I marveled. “I was absolutely astonished at what I saw.”
“What do you two usually do?” Dianne asked.
“Exhibition mostly. It depends on where we are,” I said. “She’s more daring when we travel, especially if we’re out of the country. We’ve walked along beaches topless and sometimes naked in Mexico and Costa Rica, and we’ve allowed people to discover us having sex. A few times we even took part in orgies and staged performances at parties.”
“What kind of performances,” Dianne asked. “Mother and daughter lesbian sex?”.
“Exactly.”
“Cool.”
“Usually Lady L is usually a little more cautious here in Denver.”
“What do you do here?”
“We just walk around in public without panties and try to let as many men as possible look up our skirts.”
“Where does the bondage fit in?”
“Her husband throws small parties, often for unsuspecting guests. Sometimes Lady L and I play the roles of French maids.”
“Ahh, short skirts and skimpy panties I’ll bet.”
“Usually no panties at all. And of course we do something that gets us punished in front of the guests. Over the knee spankings but never whipping or real rough stuff. Sometimes the guests are invited to help discipline us and that usually leads to them screwing us.”
“While hubby watches, I’ll bet.”
“Yes. In the mother daughter act I play a bratty teenager and Lady L and I get into an argument in front of the guests. We manage to turn the quarrel into a cat fight and we end up rolling around on the floor with our legs thrashing and our panties showing. Lord L usually walks in about that time, pretends to be outraged and marches us into the bedroom. He strips us naked and ties us together on the bed while the guests watch.”
“You like being tied to her?” Dianne asked. “Do you like lesbianism?”
“I sure do, but I like men too and usually only eat pussies when I’m tied up.”
“Same here,” she said. “I’ve licked a lot of them over the years, but unless the woman is a really cruel dom, I prefer men.”
“What’s best, a cruel woman or a cruel man?”
“Depends on my mood. Usually I prefer men, but women are usually better at real torture. They know all the secrets.”
“A mean tempered bitch can be vicious,” I agreed. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
She nodded. “I won’t go down easily, but if a woman can tame me I’ll do anything she wants.”
“What’s the best experience you’ve had with a woman?”
“Five days in bondage to a young gal,” she answered.
“Five days?”
“Remember the blizzard in seventy-two? It snowed heavily for four days straight and the city was shut down because they couldn’t get the roads cleared.”
“I remember.”
“I was trying to get home but my car got stuck so I walked to a friend’s apartment. She put me up during the storm.”
“Put you up, or tied you up?” I asked.
“Both, at first we just watched television and talked, but when the conversation got around to sex and bondage she became very interested. She’d never experienced bondage so we took our clothes off and fooled around.”
“Who got tied up?” I asked.
“I tied her at first,” Dianne answered. “I put her in a couple of positions and teased her body, but I wouldn’t make her cum.”
“Wicked,” I commented.
“Um hmm. I sensed that she wanted to be the dominant and I was in the mood for some punishment, so I kept her worked up before we switched places.”
“And?”
“A monster emerged from that sweet young woman.”
“Really? What happened?”
“She tied me so tight that I lost feeling in my hands and feet, then she whipped me, pinched every inch of my skin, slapped my face until my skin was raw, beat me with anything she could get her hands on, including mixing spoons, yard sticks, belts, ping pong paddles and spatulas.”
“Wow.”
“She beat me with her hands and fists, spanked my butt and pussy, made me crawl on hands and knees and kicked me until I rolled along the floor like a log.”
“Incredible!”
“She was very imaginative for a beginner. She turned into a demon. She thought up a lot of painful and humiliating things for me and I loved it.”
“You lucky girl.”
“She was wonderful. She kept me in bondage for five days.”
“Had she ever dominated anyone before?” I asked.
“Never. She had wanted to all her life but had never had an opportunity.”
“Did you go back?”
“Of course.”
“What happened to her?”
“She went professional. She moved to Las Vegas and got very rich as a dominatrix.”
“How rich?”
“Very rich. She established a high paying clientele. She’s great with male subs but she is pure hell on women, and the women keep coming back for more.”
“Do you have sessions with Denise?”
“Sure, we have a deal. She whips the daylights out of me and in return I baby sit her kids.”
“Sounds like a nice arrangement.”
“Yes, but its not the same as real dominance. I go to her when I can’t find someone to really torture me.”
“I saw her tear into you pretty hard last night,” I observed.
“Yes, but its still only play acting with her. I know she isn’t going to cause any real damage.”
“Yeah,” I conceded. “Same with me.”
“But she takes me to bondage parties and sells me into slavery.”
“Been there and done that,” I said.
“Sometimes we pretend that I’m really an unwilling kidnapping victim. I scream and fight until she whips me into silence, then she auctions me off.”
“Cool,” I said. “Maybe we ought to team up sometime.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” she said. “But I’ll be damned if I’m going to play your mother.”
“Speaking of playing my mother,” I said. “I’m worried about Lady L. She’s never been tortured that severely. I hope she’s ok.”
“She had to know it was going to be rough,” Dianne said. “Denise warned us.”
“I know, and I was surprised when she showed up. We always do our little act in a controlled setting with her husband there. She’s never gone to a bondage party without him and she’s never ever submitted to torture.”
“She doesn’t look like a masochist,” Dianne observed. “But then, who does?”
“True, but I never dreamed that she would take the things she did last night. She was totally out of character.”
“Has she ever been screwed her up the ass before?” Dianne asked.
I shook my head.
“I saw several men shove their cocks up her ass,” Dianne said. “And she didn’t seem to mind.”
I nodded.
“And she had a look of pure ecstasy when they hanged her,” Dianne said
“I know,” I marveled. “Afterwards she told me that she liked being hanged and now she wants her husband to do those things to us.”
“Sounds like she just moved up another level,” Dianne observed.
“Yeah, and before this all she wanted to do was show off her pussy.”
“Well, I can’t blame her for that. I like doing it too,” Dianne said. “I almost got arrested in Florida once.”
“How can they arrest you for that?”
“I was sitting in an unladylike fashion, , ,”
“Let me guess, knees wide apart and no underwear, right?”
“Exactly, Anyway a female cop decided that I had to be a hooker and she was going to take me to jail on the charge: ‘prostitute making a display’.”
“What?”
“That’s the way the law is worded.”
“Did they put you in handcuffs?”
“Yes, right there on a busy street. That was the nice part.”
“What happened?”
“Her sergeant showed up, made her check my identification and found that I had no police record. He ordered her to release me. While she was taking the handcuffs off I asked him if it was against the law to be naked under my skirt.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing, but I got the feeling that if that bitch female cop hadn’t been listening he might have had something to say.”
“So you didn’t get to go to bed with him?”
“Hell, I didn’t even get strip searched.”
“Maybe the female cop wanted you.”
“Maybe, but I took a dislike to her.”
“What if she’d really arrested you and took you to jail and screwed you in the cell?”
“I would have resisted,” Dianne said. “She would have gotten nothing unless she was tough enough to break me. I gave that female cop a nasty look and she glared right back at me, she knew what I was thinking.”
“Do you like fighting back?” I asked.
“I love it,” she answered. “Even when I know I’m going to give in, there is a thrill that grows until I collapse. The longer I can resist the better it is until I feel like a balloon that has popped and in that split second its like having a new form of orgasm.”
“No kidding?”
She nodded. “Try it sometime. Hold back as long as you can.”
“I don’t know,” I mused. “I think I’m naturally too submissive.”
“Maybe.”
“Too bad they released you,” I said. “You might have learned what its like to be dominated by a lesbian police officer.”
“I already knew,” Dianne said. “I spent twenty four hours in a lesbian dungeon in Chicago. It was owned by a woman cop.”
“Was it good?”
“Terrific. I was auctioned to another female cop who beat me so bad that I got scared a few times. She even threw me down a flight of stairs and sprained my ankle.”
“My God!”
“It wasn’t too bad,” Dianne said. “After that she tied me to a bed and sat on my face all night.”
“You poor thing.”
Dianne shrugged.
“I’ve been dominated by a female cop too,” I said. “In a police station.”
“Really?”
“I dressed up like a prostitute and walked along Colfax Avenue until the police stopped me and took me to the station.
“They can’t arrest you for just looking like a whore.”
I just smiled at her.
“What were you wearing?” she asked.
“A tank top and micro skirt,” I answered. “No bra and no panties.”
“That’s not against the law,” she said.
“I was dating a cop and he set everything up.”
“What do you mean, he set it up?”
“I gave the officers the name of a woman who was wanted on a warrant. I was hand cuffed on the street and put in the back of the police car.”
“And gave everyone a good look up your skirt too I’ll bet,” Dianne laughed.
“There were lots of bystanders,” I said. “Anyway, I rode to the station with my legs apart and my boyfriend’s partner got an eyeful.”
Dianne made a silent applauding motion.
“When we got to the station I was strip searched by a female cop, tied to a table and screwed with her police baton, then got to spend the night chained up in a jail cell.”
“In the nude?”
“No, they put me into one of those horrid jail suits,” I said. I told Dianne about my evening at the police station. She listened intently.
“Now that’s what I call an erotic experience,” she breathed when I finished. “You ought to arrange for that older lady to do it.”
“She would enjoy it,” I agreed. “But we couldn’t do it in Denver. She probably knows the mayor’s wife, and besides, I don’t have a boyfriend on the police department anymore.”
“Take a trip to Mexico or someplace,” Dianne said. “Then bribe a local policeman to set up the same kind of situation.”
Hmm, not a bad idea. Lord L could probably make that happen. I’d talk to him about it later.
I liked Dianne, we understood each other. We spent the afternoon talking, then went home.
I’d just walked in the door when Mom called. She wanted to know how the party went. I told her everything and in detail. Then I told her about Jean and Dianne.
She was a little troubled about Jean. Mom understood Jean’s need to experience bondage but didn’t think it was right for a married woman to do that behind her husband’s back.
“Mom, she’s not the only married woman to go to bondage parties.”
“Yes, but don’t the others go with their husbands?” she asked. “At least the man isn’t being deceived.”
I decide not to tell her about the woman who’s husband is an airline pilot.
“What about the time in Atlantic City?” I asked her. “When you went out in public in that skimpy outfit. Dad didn’t know what you did.”
“That was different,” she said. “I didn’t have sex with anyone.”
“What about those sailors you told me about? What if they’d taken you someplace and tied you up?”
She was quiet for a moment. “I suppose if that had happened then I would have had no choice.”
“What if those sailors had asked you to let them tie you?”
“I’d have said no.”
“What if they didn’t ask? What if they had taken you to a hotel room, ordered you to undress and told you to lie on the bed to be tied up? Would you have obeyed them?”
There was a silence for a minute. “Possibly,” she said in a small voice.
“I wish you had come to the party last night,” I told her.
“Perhaps some day.”
CH 43
I started my new job and was busy for a few weeks settling in. I went to work at a government agency (and still work there, so I can go into no further detail). After the party I was satisfied for sex and bondage for quite a while. I even avoided Bob for a few weeks.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Jean and Dianne.
I missed Jean and was intrigued by Dianne and her ‘go to hell’ attitude as well as her incredible masochism. Most of the submissives I know are meek and gentle personalities, but Dianne was a hellcat, a real spitfire. I wanted to know more about her. When things settled down at my new job I called her and we met for lunch.
She suggested a nice restaurant and showed up looking well dressed and sexy. I anticipated that and dressed up too. I wore some rather high heels, so high in fact I had to practice wearing them before I went out in public. It was nice attracting all the stares as we were shown to our table.
I asked Dianne what she did for a living.
“I have two careers,” she said. “I’m an instructor at a nursing school and I’m a porn model.”
Somehow I wasn’t surprised.
“I usually do most of my modeling in California,” she said. “I go to Los Angeles almost every month so I keep a small apartment there, but I live here in Denver.”
“How do you get the time off from your other job?”
“I travel around the country teaching at hospitals and medical schools. I set my own schedule and come and go as I please. It gives me plenty of time off and its a great cover for modeling.”
“Modeling must pay well,” I commented.
“Very well,” she said. “But modeling has a short career span. Most models only get about ten or twelve years in before they get too old. The trick is to manage your money wisely while in your peak earning period. Invest it rather than spending it on a flashy life style. The nursing is my fall back career plus it provides me with medical insurance and a retirement package.”
I eyed her up and down, raising my eyebrows at her expensive dress and jewelry. I remembered her naked and screaming defiance at her torturers, and her she was calmly discussing investments. She saw me eyeing her clothes.
“This is all off of the interest on my investments,” she laughed. “Nearly all of my nursing earnings go into the bank or the stock market.”
“Do you worry about being recognized?” I asked.
“Actually its happened a few times but I didn’t have a problem with it.”
“What happened?”
“A man stopped me in the Los Angeles airport and asked for my autograph,” she said. “That was flattering and bystanders thought that I was a movie star.”
“What else?”
“The administrator in a hospital in Omaha recognized me. It turned out he has collected almost all of my films and many of the magazines I’ve posed for.”
“What did he do?” I asked.
“He began hitting on me, invited me to dinner and so on,” she said. “When he finally got the nerve to tell me that he recognized me I told him to stop pussyfooting around, if he wanted to torture me, then just say so.”
“And?”
“He took me to a motel and worked me over all night long. He was pretty good too, and I had a wonderful time.”
“Is he your master?”
“No, just a regular customer.”
“Customer? Does he pay you?”
“No, I put that wrong,” she amended. “I meant we get together regularly but I don’t accept money from him.”
“Why didn’t you let him become your master?” I asked.
“He’s married with kids,” she said. “A permanent relationship is out of the question, however, every time I go to Omaha we get together for some serious bondage sex.”
“How often do you go?”
“At least once a month. He found a great dungeon belonging to an S and M club and rents it when I go out there. No more motel rooms.”
“So how would he compare to the men that tortured us at the party?” I asked.
“Pretty good,” she said. “He’s very cruel and by now he knows exactly what drives me out of my mind.”
“Does he torture other women?” I asked. “His wife for example?”
“I don’t think so. I met his wife at a banquet and she is the ultimate Barbie doll trophy wife.”
“Huh?”
“Beautiful, well dressed, empty headed, spends her day getting her hair or nails done or shopping. She has three perfect children who attend the most expensive private school in Omaha. The idea of that woman strung up by her wrists is out of the question.”
“Are you in love with the man?” I asked.
“Heavens, no,” she said. “But we understand each other. I’m free to scream my lungs out with him and he’s free to turn into a sadistic monster for a few hours. It works out nicely for both of us.”
“Sounds great,” I said.
“Have you thought about modeling?” she asked. “You have the looks and the spirit.”
“What’s that?”
“Ever notice how some bondage pictures seem lackluster? Its usually because the models aren’t into bondage and it shows. The good ones, the girls who like bondage seem to sparkle, even if they’re pretending to be reluctant.”
“I can’t say that I’ve noticed,” I said. “I don’t look at many bondage magazines.”
“What, never?”
I remembered the men’s magazines from when I was younger. The pictures in them were mostly drawings of scantily clad women tied up by German soldiers or cannibals or pirates. Oddly, since moving to Denver I hadn’t looked at many magazines.
“I used to when I was a teenager,” I told her. “But not lately.”
“I’m crushed,” she said. “I was hoping you’d recognize me from all my appearances in them.”
“Sorry.”
“I’ll survive,” she said. “But back to my question, would you want to model?”
“I’d love to pose in bondage, but I want to get married someday and I don’t want pornographic pictures of me popping up at some later date.”
“Yeah, that can be a problem,” she agreed. “Luckily I don’t worry about it.”
“How did you get started?” I asked.
“I grew up in a small town in Oklahoma. The boys in my neighborhood played cowboys and Indians or army. They ran through the yards shooting each other with cap guns. I didn’t like playing with other little girls so I joined in with the boys. If they played soldier I had to be a nurse but if we played cowboys and Indians I was often the captive girl.”
“I mean how did you get started in modeling,” I said.
“Oh, I thought you were asking how I got into bondage,” she said.
“What the heck, start there,” I said. “You can tell me about modeling later.”
“The first time I got tied up I was eight years old. The Indians captured me, took me to a grove of trees in a vacant lot and tied me to a sapling. The cowboys had to find me and rescue me.”
“And being tied up turned you on, right?”
“Did it ever. I didn’t understand why, but I liked being helpless.”
“Did the boys take advantage of you?”
“No, they left me tied for a long time while they hid and waited to ambush the cowboys. I stood against the tree with my tiny little pussy all tingly.”
“I know the feeling.”
“I told you about getting spanked by my uncle,” she said. “Looking back, I realize that I had a tiny little orgasm when that happened. Being tied up by the other kids gave me a similar thrill.”
“Did you have orgasms while you were tied up?” I asked.
“No, but I came close. I learned to manipulate our games so that I got tied up every time we played. Eventually I discovered masturbation and self bondage.”
“Sounds familiar,” I said. “I was a little older but I learned to tie myself.”
“The problem was that if I tied myself I couldn’t touch my pussy,” Dianne said. “And tying myself just wasn’t the same as when somebody else did it.”
“I understand,” I said. “But I enjoy being helpless. The sexual denial is erotic for me. I’ve tied myself up for hours and hours.”
“You tied yourself, really?” she asked. “Are you into self bondage?”
“I sure am, almost as much as sexual bondage. I’ve gotten rather proficient at it.”
“How do you get loose?”
“I’ve gotten good at that too,” I said. “I can usually untie myself if I can reach the knots, but if I want something more intense I use escape devices.”
“What kind of escape devices?”
I told her about keeping knives handy and my use of the sickle blade with my homemade torture rack. Dianne listened intently.
“I’ve been stretched on a rack,” she said. “It was very painful and I ached for days, but I loved it.”
“So have I,” I said. “But its different with the one I have at home. When that big weight falls and jerks my body tight, it brings on a terrific orgasm. You’d like it, its very violent.”
Dianne was squirming in her seat.
“Perhaps I could come to visit your farm someday,” she said lightly.
“Sure,” I said. “But we might have to wait to use the rack.”
“Why?”
“My mom might be tied to it.”
Dianne’s mouth dropped open. “You must be joking,” she gasped.
I shook my head slowly from side to side.
“Are you telling me that your mother is into bondage too?”
I told her how I walked in to find her tied to my rack. I told her how we tied ourselves to the gateposts at night.
“And you were both naked?”
I nodded.
“Now that is sexy,” Dianne said. “Waiting to be discovered by a stranger.”
“It could be frustrating too,” I said. “I never did get screwed that way. The closest was one night when a deputy sheriff stopped his car just short of our property, then turned around and drove away.”
“I wasn’t quite that daring when I was a little girl,” Dianne said. “But when I was thirteen I talked one of the boys into making me take off my clothes before he tied me up.”
“How did you do that?” I asked.
“By begging him not to make me take off my clothes,” she laughed. “I’d already become good at manipulating boys.
I remembered how I’d maneuvered Bobby into our bondage game when I was a teenager. I nodded.
“I pretended to be reluctant,” Dianne continued. “But he pointed his cap pistol at me and ordered me to strip. I obeyed and was absolutely thrilled when I was naked in front of him. The thrill intensified when he tied me to a tree.”
“Did you lose your virginity then?” I asked.
“No, that was a few years later. At the time I had to settle for being tied up naked, but it was pretty exciting.”
“What did the boy do?”
“Nothing except look at me, but I did see a pronounced bulge in his blue jeans. He just sat on the ground and looked at me that first day. The next time I managed to get him to touch my pussy.”
“How did you do that?”
“By begging him not to touch my pussy,” she chuckled.
I laughed.
“After that it was easy,” Dianne said. “Every chance we got he would take me to a secret place, tie me up and play with my pussy and my little boobies. Finally one day he grew bolder. He’d tied my hands behind my back and bent over a big log. He took his pants down, rubbed his cock against my bottom, then put it into my hands. It felt funny but I liked touching it. I squeezed his cock while he reached around and rubbed my nipples.”
“I’m getting hot listening to this.” Now I was the one squirming in my chair.
“Oh, I can stop if you like,” she said. “But the story gets better.”
“Do proceed,” I said.
“He told some of the other boys and the next time we played I was forced to strip when I got captured. There were five of them and they all touched me at once. The first boy, Robby, showed them how to place their cocks in my hands. After that, they forgot that the cowboys were searching for me. When the cowboys burst into our hideout they were stunned. I begged them not to tell and offered to touch their cocks too. After that our game consisted of me being tied up and jacking off every one of them.”
“Go on.”
“I discovered that I was in control. I taught the boys to tie me more securely and we experimented with different positions. We found that by stretching me between two trees the boys could have better access to my pussy. One day a boy pretended to whip me with a piece of rope. I loved it and after that it was easy to get them to whip me more often.”
“How long did this go on?” I asked.
“Until I graduated from high school,” she said.
“The story never got out?” I asked.
“There were rumors,” she said, “But I learned quickly to maintain an innocent look and demeanor, so few people took the rumors seriously. Besides, every girl gets talked about, whether she deserves it or not.”
“True,” I said. “And its amazing that the things that we really do that don’t get out. Everyone in my home town still thinks I’m a virgin.”
“Well, no one thinks I am,” she laughed. “But that’s because I dropped the pretense soon after I left home.”
“Did you have a boyfriend in high school?” I asked.
“No, but I had a lover,” she said.
“Oh?”
“One afternoon when I was fourteen I was tied to a tree by a couple of the boys when an older boy showed up.
“How old was he?”
“Seventeen. He chased off the younger boys then turned to me. I was frightened at first, but excited too. And when he touched me he did a better job than the younger boys. He knew about a girl’s clitoris and tickled mine until I had an orgasm.”
“Did you have a nice one?”
“Very nice. Then he untied me, made me lie down and tied my arms and legs apart. Then he took his clothes off and screwed me.”
“Umm.”
“I liked it at first, but then I got scared and told him to stop. He didn’t listen so I started to scream. He stuffed my shirt in my mouth and went right on screwing me. I thrashed around trying to throw him off my body but the more I fought the better he liked it. So did I. Eventually I didn’t want him to stop but I kept bouncing around. I also wanted to see how determined he was. I decided that if wanted to fuck me he was going to have to prove it. I even worked my ropes loose. He stopped for a moment, tied me much tighter, then got back on top of me. He came soon and so did I.
“He got up, pulled up his pants and left me tied there. I was in the sweetest pink haze. I thought I was in Heaven. I would have happily remained tied up all night, but the other boys came back. They untied me and wanted to tell the police but I managed to talk them out of it. They got me dressed and took me home. They were surprised when I showed up the next afternoon to resume our game.”
“What about the older boy?” I asked.
“I hoped he would come back and when he didn’t I went looking for him,” she said.
“You did?”
“Um hmm. I found him hanging around a soda shop with his buddies. He looked embarrassed when he saw me. I took him aside and asked if he wanted to do it again. His eyes lit up and agreed to meet me later. We met by a creek near my house and I practically dragged him into the trees. We made love without bondage but I didn’t like it as much. On the third or fourth time I asked him to tie me up again. I even brought along some rope. After that I was always tied up for sex.”
“Was he your only lover?”
“No. I had a couple of others in high school, but I always slept with guys from other towns, never close to home.”
“Did you get them to tie you up too?”
“Sure, have you ever known a man who didn’t like to tie girls up?”
“Nope.”
She got a far away look on her face. “There was one man in particular I’ll never forget,” she said. “He was a sailor home on leave.”
“Sailors are supposed to be got at tying knots,” I giggled.
“He was very good,” she said. “He was twenty nine, I was eighteen. He took me to a sleazy truck stop motel and tied me to a bed all day and all night. He introduced me to the rough stuff.”
“How rough?”
“I told him to do anything he wanted to me, so the minute we were inside he threw me on the bed. I liked that and was giggling before I stopped bouncing, so he picked me up, carried me across the room and did it again. Boy, that was a rush. He did it again a few times during the night mixed in with lots of bondage, spanking, nipple pinching and fantastic screwing. He had lots of energy and lots of imagination. He was the first person to eat my pussy, and boy was that incredible!”
“Wow.”
“You said it. afterwards we fucked on the bed, the floor, with me tied over a chair, over a table. He whipped me with his belt all over my body. That was the first time I’d been whipped on my boobs and pussy and I had an orgasm from the whipping. We made so much noise that the police burst in on us.”
“No kidding?”
“Yes,” she giggled. “I was stretched very tight on the bed and he was kneeling between my legs with his cock inside me. He was slapping my boobs with his belt. The police took one look at me tied to the bed and pointed their guns at him. I thought they were going to shoot him.”
“What happened?”
“I yelled at them to get out of our room and leave us alone. You should have seen the looks on their faces.”
“Did they leave?”
“It took some doing, but I finally convinced them that I was not being raped and in fact I was quire happy with what he was doing to me.”
I giggled.
“They wanted to untie me but I told them to leave my ropes alone,” Dianne went on. “The cops demanded to see my ID card but I told them that we were married and were driving to his new base in California, and if my husband wanted to tie me up it was none of their damn business. The door was open all this time and a crowd was watching.”
“I’ll bet you hated that,” I said.
She made a kissy face at me. “The cops finally accepted that everything was ok and left. My sailor went to the office and paid the desk clerk a little something to keep that from happening again. When he came back he was impressed that I could think up a story like that so quickly. I told him he was welcome, now get back on top of me.”
“You didn’t invite the crowd to join in?” I laughed.
“No, I was still too conventional for group sex in those days. Besides, I was quite happy with the job he was doing.”
“Go on.”
“We stayed in that hotel room until the next morning. We ate breakfast in the restaurant. The waitress looked at me like I was a whore, but all the men were impressed with my sailor. They nodded or raised their coffee cups in salute. I was proud of him and let them all get a good look up my skirt. When we walked out I wiggled like a total little tramp. After breakfast he took me home.”
“Did you see him again?”
“Once more. He drove me to a old shed on a farm owned by his aunt. It was abandoned and rickety but private. He stripped me, hung me by my wrists and whipped me. This time he brought a real whip. Just the sight of it turned me on.”
“Oh yes,” I sighed.
“He wanted to see if I could have another orgasm from being whipped.”
“Did you?”
“I sure did.”
“After that he whipped and fucked me all afternoon. When it was over he dropped me off at home. His leave was up and he left the next day to go back to his ship and I never saw him again.”
She was quiet for a few minutes.
“You don’t want to get married?” I asked.
“Not again,” she answered. “Twice is enough.”
“You’ve been married?”
She nodded. “I married both my husbands hoping they were man enough to tame me,” she said. “They were into the bondage lifestyle and thought they could handle me.”
“But they couldn’t?”
“I knew better than to marry a regular man,” she said. “I met my first husband through a bondage club. I gave my self to him completely. I wanted to see if he would be able to treat me the way I wanted. He was excellent, he whipped me until I thought I might die, then I begged for more. He dominated me completely and was wonderfully cruel, so I married him.”
“It didn’t last?”
“No, after a few years he seemed to run out of steam. The more torture I got, the more I wanted but it became a chore for him and he lost interest. Being insatiable has its drawbacks,” she sighed. “Anyway we split up.”
“What about your second husband?” I asked.
“He was a repeat of the first,” she said wryly. “I found him the same way, begged him to enslave me permanently, and after few months of wonderful torture we got married. The same thing happened. It was great at first, but after a while he couldn’t keep up with me.”
“What did you do outside of sex?” I asked. “What did you talk about?”
“Nothing, that was the trouble,” she said. “Two people can’t live forever just on sex. There has to be more.”
I felt a sudden terrible sadness for her. In a split second I had come to realize that she was a very unhappy woman, and was likely to remain so all her life. I thought about MAC, my dear, loyal friend. I was so thankful to have someone like him in my life.
“You know what I’ve come to believe?” Dianne asked.
“What?”
“I shouldn’t live with just one man,” she said. “My ultimate fantasy is to live in a hotel with a dungeon in the basement. And the guests can come down and torture me every night. If such a place existed I could happily spend the rest of my life there.”
“Look at you,” I said. “You’re an elegant, sophisticated woman. Do you honestly think that you’d be happy living that way?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “I would be like the princess who dreams of being kept barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen.”
“Except you want to be kept naked, bruised, and in the dungeon.”
“I knew you’d understand.”
“So how did you get into modeling?” I asked.
“One of my lovers took pictures of me in bondage,” she said. “The pictures were pretty good and he gave me copies. I liked looking at myself in the photos and a few years later I sent some of them to a bondage magazine. They wrote back and invited me to New York for a photo shoot. I went, they set me up with a photographer in a real dungeon, and the rest is history.”
“A real dungeon?” I asked.
“Very real. It wasn’t just stage scenery. It was used for real bondage sessions. I was damp ten seconds after I walked in the room.”
“How did the you like modeling?”
“The bondage was nice, but it was almost comical. The photographer and his assistant were very careful not to hurt me. They constantly asked if I was uncomfortable or if my ropes were too tight. I kept telling them that they weren’t tight enough and when were they going to break out the whips?”
“What did they say?”
“Well, I wasn’t the first amateur model who thought she was tougher than shoe leather. The photographer told his assistant to whip me from off camera. The guy was too light on me and I demanded more. Eventually the photographer set aside his camera and whipped me himself. I thrashed around in my bonds and taunted him. He tried to be so cool and in control of himself and I did everything I could to enrage him. It became a contest of wills.”
“Who won?” I asked.
“I did. I got him so furious that he whipped me until I was bleeding. I didn’t mind the blood and I loved the pain, but more importantly I loved having the power to drive that man over the edge. I was actually laughing in delight while he whipped me. He was so angry that he even hit me across the face.”
“Oh my God!” I gasped. “That’s horrible.”
She shrugged. “I had an orgasm.”
“You must be kidding,” I said.
“Nope, that’s why Denise slaps me so hard. I love it.”
“You’d better be careful,” I warned.
“Oh, I know,” she said. “But one of my greatest fantasies is to have my face slashed with a knife.”
“Are you out of your mind?” I gasped.
“Don’t worry,” she smiled. “Its only a fantasy.”
“Well, if you say so,” I said doubtfully.
“I can control myself,” she said. “I’ve been doing this for twenty years.”
“Ok.”
“Be honest with me,” Dianne said. “Don’t you have some terrible fantasy that’s so horrible that you have to hide it deep in your soul?”
I was quiet for several minutes, then I nodded.
“Want to tell me about it?” she asked.
“I have several,” I said.
She waited.
“I know a woman who wants to be hung up with meat hooks through her breasts,” I said.. “After she told me about it, I wanted it too, only I want to be hoisted to the top of our barn at home. I want to hang there so passing cars can see me. That’s my first terrible fantasy.”
“Wow. That’s pretty terrible,” she whispered in awe. “But its incredibly erotic.” She thought a moment. “I think I might know that woman. Does she have enormous boobs and puts on a school teacher act?”
“That’s her.”
“Yeah, I’ve been to parties with her. Did you know she can get orgasms from having her breasts tortured?”
“Yes, I’ve seen her do it. In fact, I was tied to her one evening.”
“Me too. In fact a master once tried to make her smother me with her breasts.”
“Ooh, tell me.”
“He tied me on a bed, then tied her body over me so her boobs covered my face. He hoped I’d pass out from lack of air.”
“That’s kind of silly,” I said.”
“Oh, I went along with it,” she said. “I wanted to see what it would be like. The problem was that I could still breathe.”
“You poor thing.”
“Eventually they gave up and resorted to the tried and true method of whipping our breasts till they were raw.”
“The old ways are the best ways,” I said piously.
“Yeah, except those gigantic boobs of hers got all the attention. She had some terrific orgasms while they ignored me,” Dianne said. “I had to remind them to whip me too.”
“Did she talk about having her breasts pierced?” I asked.
“Yes, listening to her almost made me crazy.”
“She’s married so she can’t have her breasts pierced,” I said. “But I’m surprised that you don’t.”
“They are,” she said calmly. “But I wasn’t wearing the rings when you met me.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want somebody getting crazy and tearing a ring out of my breast. As much as I love pain, I don’t want to be mutilated.”
“Makes sense.”
“What’s another of your terrible fantasies?”
“Erotic electrocution.”
“Don’t tell me, let me guess. You want to be executed in the electric chair, right?”
“Stark naked on national television,” I said.
“Yes I’ve heard that fantasy before, and I think I know who you picked it up,” she said. “Is her name Donna?”
“That’s her.”
“That girl is crazy. Stay away from her.”
“I agree,” I said. “But you must have seen her in action.”
“Oh yes, I’ve watched her screaming her lungs out while electricity jolts through her body.” She took a drink of wine. “Donna can be pretty intense.”
“So are her orgasms,” I said.
She squirmed in her chair and crossed her legs.
“Honestly now, haven’t you ever thought about it?” I asked.
“Of course I have.”
“Denise has electric shock toys,” I said. “Has she ever used them on you?”
Dianne looked at me over her wine glass and nodded slowly.
“She’s never done that to me,” I mused. “I’ll have to get her to do it.”
“Be careful you don’t get burned,” she warned.
“What do you mean?”
“If the electricity goes too high those things can burn your skin. Believe me, I know.”
My pussy went about twenty degrees hotter. I just looked at her.
“Electricity can be fantastically painful. I loved the pain and kept screaming for Denise to give me more. She turned up the power so high that I got burned on my nipples and my labia.”
“Sweet Jesus!” I gasped. It felt like electricity was coursing through my pussy.
“Yeah,” she grinned. “I said the same thing at the time, only a whole lot louder.”
“Were you badly burned?”
“Nah, just enough to make me faint when the orgasm hit.”
Now it was my turn to cross my legs and squirm around in my chair.
“Denise is reluctant to use the electrical toys,” Dianne said. “And she won’t go above a certain setting.”
“I know she won’t do sessions with Donna any more,” I commented.
“No, she doesn’t want to be there when somebody takes Donna too far and kills her.”
Dianne’s face was getting slightly flushed. I don’t think it was from the wine.
“What’s the other fantasy?” she asked.
“I want to be tied to my mother.”
“Oooh! Denise is right,” she whispered. “There is a lot more to you than meets the eye.”
I smiled sweetly.
“Your mother huh? I’m impressed. Is that why you put on acts with that older woman, Lady L?”
“When I’m licking Lady L I pretend I’m eating my mother’s pussy.”
“That’s pretty heavy,” she said. “But I like the one about hanging with meat hooks best. I could get into that myself.”
“How about this?” I suggested. “Three women hanging together from hooks through their breasts?”
Dianne looked at me curiously.
“Three women, tightly bound suspended from the hay crane on a country barn, slowly twisting in the breeze, visible to every passing car,” I continued.
“Your barn?” Dianne asked.
“Of course.”
“And the women are you, me and the school teacher?”
“You, me, and my mother,” I said.
“Wow,” Dianne breathed after a long silence.
“But on reflection, I guess we could invite the school teacher too,” I said. “The crane will support four women.”
“You’ve got a deal.”
I was surprised at her acceptance. “You don’t think that I’m horrible?” I asked.
“Hell no,” she laughed. “Who am I to criticize anyone? Besides, that’s why I like you.”
“Oh?” I asked. “Does that mean we are going to become lovers?”
“Nope, I only eat pussies when I’m forced to,” she answered. “And don’t get any fantasies which include me as a substitute for your mother. I’m not old enough.”
“What about if I fantasize about you as my older sister?” I giggled.
“All right,” she said, pretending exasperation. “If you must indulge your incest fantasies, go ahead.”
“Gee, thanks Sis.”
She made a kissy face at me.
“Getting back to your photo session,” I said. “Finish your story.”
“When the photographer and his assistant saw me coming it turned them on even more and they screwed the daylights out of me. When they finished I told them that now that we were all warmed up, could we please get down to some real torture.” She smiled fondly. “We were there all night.”
“So I guess your job interview went well?” I asked innocently.
“Yes, I got the job.” She waved her hand to make an emerald ring flash. “The New York photographer published my pictures and they were well received so I did more shoots with him and I got offers from other photographers and film makers around the country.”
“Which do you prefer, still pictures or movies?”
“Movies, because the punishment is real and I can have orgasms on camera as well as in front of the film crew.”
“Mmmm, that could be very erotic,” I said.
She giggled. “I had a director, a woman, who told me that I was great at faking orgasms. She didn’t believe me when I told her I wasn’t faking. We argued so much that she decided to prove that I was lying.”
“How could she do that?” I asked.
“She hired some medical people to hook me up to a machine that measures female orgasms.”
“I didn’t know they had such things,” I said.
“They are used for research and to help women who have sexual problems. They measure brain waves, respiration, heart rate, temperature and so on, and they can tell when a woman has an orgasm.”
“So what happened?”
“They tied me to a table, attached sensors all around my body, and whipped me. I had four orgasms in thirty minutes.”
“I betcha that showed em.”
“Sure did, and we decided to make a movie about it.”
“You’re kidding!” I laughed.
“Nope. We wrote a script based on our argument and shot a sixty minute movie. They showed a split screen with my face on one side and the machine on the other. Every time I cum the buttons light up and the needles jump. Its still selling like hot cakes.”
I laughed so hard that I spilled my wine.
“I’ve got to watch it someday.”
“Sure, I have all my movies at home, come over some night and we’ll watch them.”
“Do you like watching yourself?”
“Oh, yes, especially the one with the orgasm machine.”
“It would be nice to see my own face when I have an orgasm,” I mused.
“Say the word and I can arrange a movie spot for you.” Dianne said.
I was tempted.
“And if she wants, I can get an audition for that little church woman you have the hots for, too.”
I was surprised. “Do you think I have the hots for Jean?” I asked.
“It was obvious as hell,” Dianne said.
“Well, I admit I did find her attractive,” I said.
“Yeah, she has that special spark,” Dianne said. “Not much to look at but she has genuine enthusiasm.”
“Unfortunately I think Jean was serious about that being her one and only time in bondage.”
“So she says, but once a woman dips into that well, its hard not to go back.”
“I know, I know.”
“Too bad you didn’t get to eat her pussy.”
“Yes,” I sighed.
CH 44
“Ok, lets talk about your self bondage,” Dianne said. “Do you really get off doing that?”
“I sure do. I can tie myself so that I can get loose on my own or so tight that I can’t move until my mother comes and releases me. That might be for hours and hours and I can only lie there and think erotic thoughts. Sometimes I drift into a sort of trance where the thoughts become wonderful dreams. I can almost make myself have the dream I want.”
“I like being tied up,” Dianne agreed, “But I want someone to torture me. Just lying there sounds boring.”
“Not for me,” I said. “Besides, denial is a form of torture. Sometimes I get so horny that I think I’m going to explode.”
“Do you have orgasms?”
“Sometimes I do just from my imagination, but that doesn’t happen every time. I have a boyfriend at my apartment building and I’ll tie myself to my bed and wait for him. The longer he takes, the hotter I am when he finally gets there and I start coming the instant he slides into me.”
“That sounds very nice.”
“It is,” I said. “He’s married and screws half the woman in the building, but I get what I want from him.”
“So I take it you’re not in love with him?”
“Lord no, he’s a creep, but he’s good in bed.”
“I think I might know him,” she said. “I know a lot of creeps.”
“Yeah,” I shrugged off Bob. “But the best kind of self bondage is what I do at the farm. I’ve created some aids to orgasm.”
“What kinds of aids?”
“Vibrating dildos on timers, nipple clamps, lots of things.”
“What other thing?”
“Ok, sometimes I put strong clamps on my nipples and attach strings. I run the strings over a bar and tie weights to them. I freeze the strings in cans of water. When the ice in the cans melts the strings slide out, the weights drop and yank the hell out of my nipples. I can attach several weights to each nipple and use different amounts of ice so the weights drop at different times and I never know when one is going to hit.”
“Clever,” Dianne chuckled.
“Oh, it gets better.”
Dianne made a ‘go on’ motion.
“I can do the same thing with clamps on my pussy lips or with a knotted rope through my pussy.”
Her chin dropped.
“Its pretty wild when a weight drops and that rope races between my pussy lips,” I said. “That is a guaranteed orgasm. Sometimes I almost expect to see smoke coming off the rope.”
Dianne nodded. “I could see that happening.”
“But the best is when the big weight suddenly drops and slams my whole body,” I continued. “It lifts me off the board for a second, then slams me back down. The ropes become super tight on my wrists and ankles and they keep getting tighter until the blade cuts the rope and the weight falls away. That’s always good for an orgasm.”
Dianne’s eyes were wide. She took in a breath and let it out in a long shuddering sigh.
“Sometimes I tie the nipple clamps and pussy rope to something solid,” I went on. “So when the weight drags me along the board they tighten up, and sometimes I set it up so that the only thing that keeps me from falling off the loft is my pussy rope. That really hurts.”
“Oh God.”
“There are other variations,” I said. “Want to hear more?”
Dianne leaned close and rested her chin in her hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said. “Sometimes I substitute bungee cords which make the weight rebound for a long time and keeps me bouncing around on the board. Its very violent but the only problem with bungees is that they are too easy to get out of.”
“Anything else?” she asked.
“Yes, one that is particularly wicked,” I said. “I don’t tie my legs together, instead I tie two ropes to the weight, thread them through pulleys mounted on the walls, then tie the ends to my ankles. When the weight drops it yanks my feet wide apart.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“That one is nice because not only does it jerk my legs apart, but it also drags me along the board at the same time. And I can place the pulleys so my legs can be opened narrower or wider.”
Which is better?”
“Wider of course, but you have to be careful, too wide and you can hurt yourself.”
“I though that was the idea.”
“So did I until I went home and found my mom hobbling around barely able to walk.”
“She over did it?”
“She sure did. She had the pulleys so far apart that she strained the muscles in her inner thighs and at her groin.”
“Oooh, but then, post torture aches and pains can be erotic,” she said. “Sometimes those little twinges I get after I’ve been whipped can be quite a turn on.”
“Yes, I know, especially that one.”
“Don’t tell me,” she laughed. “You did it too?”
“Yep. I went up to the loft and did the same thing Mom did, strained the same muscles too.”
“Silly girl,” Dianne said, but after a moment: “Orgasm?”
“Out of this world.”
She nodded knowingly.
“That one really is incredible, especially when you don’t know when its going to happen,” I said. “Lately I’ve used bigger cans of ice so the weight takes longer before it drops.”
“Why?”
“I like to doze off while I’m waiting. Its absolutely fantastic to be wakened from a sound sleep by having your legs jerked open.”
Dianne was squirming in her seat again.
“I’m thinking about adding some more refinements,” I said.
“Such as?”
“Electricity, for one. I could clip electrical wires to my body so that when the weight drops it would trip a switch and I’d get shocked at the same time my body is being jerked around the board.”
“Hmmm, I like the sound of that.”
“And another modification would be to mount a dildo horizontally just above the board, so I’ll be pulled onto it a split second after the weight yanks my legs apart.”
“Wow, that’s terrific,” Dianne breathed. She sat up very straight and crossed her legs tightly.
“A metal dildo with electricity running through it,” I added.
She took a long deep breath.
“I’m also think of mounting the pulleys up high so that not only will my legs be yanked open, but my body will fly up off the board and I’ll dangle upside down.”
“Whooo, I like that,” she said. “But you couldn’t use the dildo could you?”
“Sure could,” I said. “I’d just set it on a little cradle and scoop it up as I slide by.”
Dianne started to giggle.
“Actually I’ve thought about mounting a dildo on a long pole pointing down from the ceiling.”
Dianne started laughing, chuckling at first, then gave loose with a full roaring laugh that made heads turn. I thought she was going to fall out of her chair. It took her five minutes to regain her composure.
“And you’d earn extra points if you capture the dildo, correct.”
I leaned close and whispered: “Five points if it goes in my pussy and ten if I can get it up my ass.”
She lay her head on the table. Her shoulders shook.
“How would you get down?” she asked a few minutes later.
“The same way I normally get loose. The rope will rub against the sickle blade until its cut.”
“And you will fall, right? How high off the floor do you plan to be?”
“It doesn’t matter, I just have to rig something to land on. I don’t mind pain but I don’t want to injure myself hitting that hard wooden floor.”
“Why not just put a mattress to land on?”
“Too soft,” I said. “I’m leaning toward coils of barbed wire. It will hurt more.”
Dianne nodded. “That sounds reasonable.”
“I’m thinking that I would attach the dildo with a weak glue,” I said, “That way I can pull it off the pole and try to keep it in my pussy when I land. That’s twenty points.”
Dianne jumped to her feet and ran shrieking into the ladies room.
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