The Boys And Girls Are Watching

The Boys and Girls are Watching

By Alfamann

Chapter Five

A quick recap on the main characters….

Jane…that’s me. 32 y.o. mother and budding deviant!

Olivier…my loving and understanding French husband, and stepson of Francesca.

Abigail…our 7 y.o. daughter

Francesca…my 45 y.o. alcoholic French Mother-in-law and Penelope Cruz lookalike-damn her!

Paula…my red-headed best friend and next door neighbour, and budding spankee.

Dave…Paula’s husband and budding voyeur.

I could not believe how much my life had changed in the couple of months since my Mother-in-law, Francesca, had arrived from France. Not only had I spanked and masturbated her, but I was also guilty of spanking my good friend, and neighbour, Paula. Yes, I was guilty as charged. Guilty of sinful behaviour. But curiously I felt no remorse and very little guilt. I didn’t understand what was driving my behaviour, but I certainly knew it gave me intense pleasure when I was dominating another woman, as deviant as that may sound. What I did feel somewhat guilty about was the fact that I had only started on this crazy dominating escapade out of a genuine desire to help Francesca break her alcohol and smoking addictions, and I had to be sure I did not lose the plot along the way.

Francesca seemed to be making progress. She was looking healthier and seemed to have more inner strength. She still had her ‘down’ periods when she was moody and withdrawn and struggling to keep it all together, but even Olivier was commenting on her positive progress which always brought out a wry smile from me. It was now twelve days since Francesca had last been spanked, and three days since I had been in her room and helped her fulfil her sexual fantasy for the second time.

Paula and her husband, Dave, had been away at a wine festival over the past week and had only just returned. I had wondered a number of times whether their would be any further punishment sessions with Paula, or whether it was a one-off that met a need that she did not want to repeat. Either way I was not going to push the issue and risk destroying a close friendship. I met Paula briefly over the next couple of days and she was her usual friendly self. But I sensed she was a little tense, however I said nothing.

The following day I answered the phone to find Paula on the other end. She stammered as she spoke, and I immediately knew that this was not just a normal social call.

“Will you come over, Jane?” my red-headed neighbour stammered down the phone.

“Is Dave home?” I enquired.

“No. He won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“So….what do you want me to come over for, Paula love?” I felt I knew the answer.

There was hesitation before she responded. “I want you to do it again, please.”

“Do what?” I enquired provocatively.

“You know.” I could almost see Paula squirming on the end of the phone.

“Paula,” I stated firmly, “If you want me to come over and punish you then you need to ask me properly.”

“Please punish me,” she responded quietly.

“Have you been a naughty girl?”

“Yes,” was her whispered response.

“A very naughty girl?”

“Yes…a very naughty girl,” was her tentative response.

“Alright, but you will need to come around and pick me up as Francesca has taken Abigail up town.”

“Okay,” Paula responded willingly.

“Oh...and Paula, what are you wearing?”

“I …umm…have just had a shower. I am wearing my summer floral dress that we purchased last holidays.”

“Good. Are you wearing a bra and panties?”

Paula giggled like a child. “Of course I am, silly.”

“Well take them off before you come around to pick me up. I want you to be wearing just your dress with nothing else.” I then just hung up the phone.

Fifteen minutes later I heard Paula pull up in the yard outside of my house, and give a small toot of her car horn. However I ignored her until I eventually heard her knock on the door. I took my time opening the front door, and when I did my red-haired neighbour greeted me bashfully. I could see her nipples protruding against the light fabric of her summer floral dress. It was clear she was not wearing a bra, and I had a pretty good idea she would not be wearing knickers, but I decided to be provocative.

“Have you taken off your bra and panties?” I queried.

Paula nodded, blushing as she did.

“Show me.”

Her jaw dropped open. “Here?”

“Yes. Here. Right on the front doorstep.”

Paula glanced around to ensure there was nobody else about. Then quickly she lifted up the front of her dress to flash me her naked thatch of red pubic hair.

“All the way up. I want to see your boobs as well.”

Paula sighed, and again looked around to ensure there were no onlookers. She then gripped the front of her dress and lifted it right up until her breasts came into sight, revealing her beautiful naked fair skin covered in delightful freckles. I gave her a nod and a smile to indicate I was satisfied she was indeed not wearing a bra or knickers, and then walked away to her car. Paula quickly climbed in and nervously drove the short distance down the road to her property.

When we got to Paula’s she hurriedly got out and went to enter her house but I yelled out for her to follow me into the old barn that her and Dave had converted into a wine cellar and sales reception room. Reticently Paula followed.

“Why are we going in here?” she enquired nervously.

Ignoring her I beckoned Paula to follow me to the back corner where the wine barrels were stored.

“Undress,” I directed once we were standing in the far corner. We were hidden from the open barn door if anyone was to drive up into the yard, but if anyone walked inside the barn we were in clear view.

Paula had a panicked look on her face. “No, not in here,” she protested.

“Yes, in here, right now, undress.”

Despite her protests Paula only hesitated for a short moment before she reached for the hem of her dress. In one swift action she lifted the dress up over her shoulders and off, leaving her totally naked. I took the dress off her, folded it up and then stuffed it into my pocket. Paula looked alarmed but said nothing.

“Put your hands on your head.”

Paula quickly obeyed.

“So you have been very naughty and deserve to be punished?”

“Yes,” was Paula’s embarrassed response.

“I think you need to be both humiliated and punished, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Paula pouted. Even though she looked nervous I could see she was rubbing her thighs together and I strongly suspected she was getting turned on by the anticipation of what lay before her.

“Are you getting turned on, you naughty little slut?”

Paula’s fair freckled skin did little to hide her blush of shame. “No”, she protested.

I raised my eyebrow and just stared at her quizzically.

However our little charade was interrupted by a car driving into the yard. Paula looked petrified and reached out for her dress however I ignored her and walked away to the barn entrance. The car contained a group of four elderly tourists who had stopped by on their way out of town to purchase some wine. Without hesitation I invited them into the barn to allow them to sample the different varieties of wine available. I had often assisted Paula and Dave in the boutique winery in the past so was fully conversant with serving customers. As we walked to the table for the wine tasting Paula was not visible, however I knew the only place she could hide was behind a couple of wine barrels that were no more than three yards away from where the elderly tourists were now standing.

As the tourists sampled the wine and chatted amongst themselves about the virtues of each variety, I nonchalantly strolled down towards the wine barrels, and as I peeked over the top I spotted my naked, red-haired friend hunched down trying to make herself as small as possible. I walked around the barrels and stood right in front of Paula, my shin bones pushing against her nakedness. From there I began to converse with the customers again, getting feedback from them on the wine tasting. We chatted for several minutes. If only they knew I had a naked woman huddled at my feet.

Finally I had to leave my hapless victim to collect the bottles of wine they had purchased, and it ended up being a very healthy sale. Once they were gone I returned to where Paula continued to be huddled behind the wine barrels on her hands and knees.

“Wasn’t that fun?” 

Paula glanced up at me scornfully. “I was terrified I would be discovered.”

She went to get up but I put my hand on her back to hold her down there.

“Keep your head on the ground and put your butt in the air.”

Paula groaned in protest, but did as I had requested. Her buttocks protruded upwards. They were the one part of her body not covered in freckles. Her labia squeezed out provocatively, and her puckered anus was in clear view. I stood and admired the sight.

“Get that butt of yours higher missy,” I demanded.

Paula arched her back and stretched her buttocks higher. This further exposed her labia that were clearly swollen and moist.

“You are turned on, you naughty little slut!”

Without warning a slapped her buttocks firmly and Paula yelped out loudly. I then followed up with a further twenty spanks. When I had finished I helped Paula to her feet. Her face was tear-streaked and covered with dust from the floor.

Once she was on her feet I stood her before one of the barrels she had been hiding behind and directed her to lean over it. Without question she did as requested, placing her hands on the floor on the other side of the barrel.

“Open your legs.”

Again she obeyed. I resumed the spanking, being firm but not too severe. After a further fifteen or so spanks I noticed that Paula’s hips were beginning to grind up and down against the wooden surface of the overturned wine barrel. As the spanking continued the grinding increased in intensity. It was obvious she was using the grinding motion to stimulate her clitoris against the wine barrel. It did not take many more spanks before her body began to shake and she cried out in pleasure. I am not sure if she was hoping to hide her orgasm, but if she was she did a damn awful job of it.

When she finally found the strength to stand there was a large stain on the wine barrel from where her vaginal juices had flowed. She blushed, while I smiled knowingly and handed back her dress.

“Jeez Paula, I am surrounded by woman who like to get their rocks off in unusual ways.” I knew I was being provocative.

Paula just continued to look extremely ashamed.

“I’ll tell you what. Francesca is going to be punished tonight. Since Dave is not home until tomorrow why don’t you come around for dinner and watch the proceedings. At least you can see you are not the only one getting punished by me today.”

Paula’s eyes suddenly lit up and she quickly responded she would love to come around for dinner.

“I didn’t know you enjoyed my cooking so much!” I added playfully.

Chapter Six

I had been cleaning the house this morning when I discovered a packet of cigarettes hidden behind some books. The packet of cigarettes was unopened, and Francesca maintained they had been there for several weeks; however she also knew she had broken one of our golden rules of no alcohol or cigarettes in the house.

“Will you punish me now?” she pleaded.

It was only mid morning, and I could see she was trying to avoid the shame of being spanked in the evening when Olivier was going to be home. I shook my head to indicate there was no way, and to Francesca’s credit she did not pursue the matter further.

In the early evening after Paula turned up for dinner I noticed Francesca nibbling nervously on her finger nails. She knew that the likely audience watching her punishment had increased by one more. It was probably small consolation that Dave was not with her.

For dinner we had a traditional French meal of moules and frites (mussels and fries) which is one of my favourites. It would have been even more enjoyable with a nice glass of white wine to wash it down, but that was one of the necessary sacrifices with a recovering alcoholic living under our roof. After the meal Paula and Francesca cleaned up while I took Abigail to bed and went through the routine of reading books with her that she had already heard or read a hundred times previously. Amazing how kids never tire of hearing their favourite stories.

When I was sure Abigail was asleep I quietly retreated, closing her door and rejoining the others downstairs who were just making a coffee. Francesca looked at me nervously, not sure whether she was meant to leave or stay. I beckoned for her to enjoy her coffee first. She might well have wanted to get the punishment over and done with, but I was in no hurry to get it dispensed with. It would give her more time to reflect on her behaviour and the upcoming spanking.

We chatted away over coffee and Francesca did her best to be her normal extrovert self but you could sense the tenseness in her voice. Once coffee was finished she glanced over at me with her beautiful deep blue eyes and I nodded my head indicating it was time. Silently she stood up and left the room. Neither Olivier nor Paula had noticed the non-verbal exchange and where taken by surprise when Francesca stood and left the room. The conversation stopped and their eyes followed her out of the room. They then both briefly glanced at me before attempting to resume the conversation but one could sense the air of anticipation, certainly from Paula. I found it a little harder to gauge what my husband was feeling. He has often praised me on how well his Step-mother is progressing but never, ever said much about the punishment sessions.

When Francesca re-entered the room she was wearing her night robe. She walked straight over to stand in front of Paula, Olivier and myself who were all seated in the lounge chairs.

She bravely looked me directly in the eyes. “I am really sorry for having the cigarettes in the house and I know I deserve to be punished.”

With that she untied the cord of her robe and with a shrug of her shoulders it fell to the ground revealing her near perfect body. Now that she was eating healthily and had stopped abusing her body with alcohol and cigarettes her skin was firmer and more vibrant, making her naked appearance even more beautiful. Without being asked she placed her hands on her head, making no attempt to hide her breasts or her neatly trimmed pubic hair. I don’t believe she was trying to flaunt her beauty in front of us, but rather she wanted her shame to be complete. I left her standing in this position for several minutes.

“Open your legs,” I quietly requested.

Francesca grimaced but did as I requested, opening her legs about two feet apart. I knew that opening her legs would increase the vulnerability she was feeling, knowing that just a little more of her private anatomy was revealed to all three of us. With her pubic hair neatly trimmed so short the bottom of her labia were revelled, with the point of her clitoris just visible. It may have increased her humiliation, but to us onlookers it just enhanced her overall beauty. I made her hold that position for what must have seemed like an eternity to her.

Finally I slid forward in my chair and patted my lap, indicating for her to get into position for her spanking. Silently she folded her nakedness over my thighs, positioning her buttocks high in the air. I spanked her slowly but hard, alternating between each buttock. With the experience I had gained from spanking both Francesca and Paula I felt more confident about how hard to spank and where to spank on the buttock for maximum impact. It was not long before Francesca was sobbing deeply, and although her body jumped when my spank impacted she made no attempt to protect herself or roll off my knee. I couldn’t help but admire her inner fortitude.

When I was finished Francesca quickly stood and furiously rubbed her flaming red backside. At the same time she was doing a little dance and tears rolled down her face. Finally she composed herself, stoically turning to me and thanking me for punishing her before picking up her robe and leaving the room. When I glanced over at Olivier and Paula I almost laughed as both were just staring ahead, stunned, almost as if they disbelieved what they had just witnessed. They almost looked like they were hypnotised and I had to break their trance by offering them a coffee. Little did they know that their night of witnessing the unbelievable was far from over. It had been eating away at me that I was keeping secrets from Olivier about what had been happening in Francesca’s room in the middle of the night, and I would never forgive myself if he discovered by accident. I had not intended to tell Paula but since she happened to be here I felt I might as well reveal all.

After fetching the coffee for Paula and Olivier I briefly left them and walked down the hall to the bathroom where Francesca was. As I entered she had washed her tear-streaked face and was already looking more composed. She looked up at me curiously from the hand basin.

“The boys and girls are coming tonight and your brothers have told them it is going to be very special. So make sure you are all ready for them when they arrive.”

Francesca just stared at me, her deep blue eyes as wide as saucers. She started to protest but I put a finger over her lips to stifle whatever she was about to say and then departed the bathroom.

On returning to the lounge I grabbed my coffee and sat down beside Olivier and Paula.

“Now, listen you two, I have a confession to make.”

Paula’s put her hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp. I realised that Paula thought I was going to confess to Olivier that I have been spanking her. I would need to tell Olivier at some time, but right now I wanted to unburden something a little closer to home.

I continued. “There is a part of Francesca’s therapy that you are not aware of.”

Olivier raised his eyebrows. “Knowing you and your approach to therapy I am almost too afraid to ask what it might be.”

“Well, yes, it is a little…unusual,” I confessed. “It happens at night when Francesca is in bed. She has a dreadful time trying to relax and get to sleep.”

“Good heavens, woman, you don’t spank her in bed as well,” Olivier gesticulated with his hands as he spoke in that typical French manner.

“No, I don’t spank her. It is something she likes to do to help her relax and beat the demons in her head. She has these unusual….fantasies,” I was actually too embarrassed to just come straight out and say it. I wasn’t sure how my husband would react if I just blurted out that I helped his mother masturbate herself while she had childhood visions of the neighbourhood kids watching her. I decided to take the approach that actions speak louder than words.

“Come with me, and please, keep an open mind. This is what Francesca wants, and I believe it is helping positively in her rehabilitation.” I tried to sound like I was some sort of expert on this. ‘Trust me, this is tried and proven therapy, so don’t be alarmed if it seems a tad deviant in nature!’

I tapped lightly on Francesca’s bedroom door before the three of us entered. Paula had no hesitation in coming in and was clearly very keen to see whatever was going to unfold. Olivier, not surprisingly, was somewhat more reluctant to enter his Stepmother’s bedroom, so I held his hand and almost pulled him in. Francesca was lying prone on the bed, looking more than just a little nervous. Her blankets had been pushed down to the end of the bed, but she had pulled a sheet up to cover her body. Her bedside lamp was turned on. The three of us stood beside her bed.

“The boys and girls have arrived, Francesca.” I tried to sound soothing. “What do you think they have all come to see?”

For a long moment Francesca’s eyes remained fixed on the wall at the end of her bend, then slowly she turned to face us.

“My body?” she whispered, sounding every bit a young teenage girl.

“Yes, your body that is all nicely rounded and much more developed than the other girls. Most of the girls are only in training bras and don’t have fully developed breasts like you, and they don’t have a nice thick thatch of pubic hair like you do. And the boys have never been lucky enough to see a girl like you who is already a budding young woman.”

Francesca blushed at my comments, but I could also see the faraway glazed look in her eyes that suggested she was slipping into her erotic fantasy.

“Take down your sheet.”

Francesca lowered the sheet and kicked it down to the end of the bed with her feet. She was wearing a yellow knee-length nightie.

“You know what you have to do now. The boys and girls are waiting and are looking very excited.”

Francesca lay motionless, before reaching down to the bottom of her nightie and very slowly sliding it up her body. She raised her buttocks so that it could slide underneath her and continued to pull it up until it was above her breasts and gathered at her shoulders. She lay there naked, unmoving. Her beauty was breathtaking.

Without being asked she bent her legs and let her knees fall open, totally revealing her vagina to the three of us. I could vividly see her labia were already swollen and moist, which gave me additional confidence to push ahead. I wanted to steal a quick glance at Olivier to see what his reactions were, but was afraid it would give him the opportunity to question what I was up to.

“All the boys and girls are struggling to get a good look at that pretty, well developed pussy of yours. Why don’t you lift your hips off the bed so they can get a better view?”

Francesca arched her back and lifted her hips in the air. Her labia were that swollen they were already pulling apart, revelling the pink moist entrance of her vulva.

“Pull your lips apart and show them what your clitoris looks like. None of the boys will have seen one before, and the girls are so immature they probably don’t even realise they have one.”

Still with her hips forced upwards, Francesca’s fingers moved to her vagina and she expertly flicked her clitoris, causing it to swell even further before our eyes. Using her other hand she prised her labia apart, and then squeezed her clitoris between two fingers before stretching it out. She held it revealed for all to see.

“They want to touch you, Francesca. They are desperately excited and want to touch you. Can they?”

Francesca nodded her head. She was flushed and beginning to sweat. There was no mistaking the excitement in her eyes. I sat on the bed beside her and ran my hand up and down her thigh several times before gently brushing her labia. Francesca was still holding them open while continuing to expose her clit.

I encircled her labia with my fingers several times then focused on the base of her stretched, engorged clitoris. I began to flick it with my fingers while she held it outstretched. Her hips began to rotate and her breathing was rapid.

“Listen to me Francesca.”

Her flushed face turned towards me.

“You are going to have an orgasm for the boys and girls to see. But I don’t want it to be a little girl’s orgasm. I want it to be a young woman’s orgasm. I want to see you pushing hard against my fingers. I want to see your pussy arched high in the air. And I want to see your tummy ripple as you push that orgasm right through your body. Do you understand me?”

Francesca nodded feverishly. She was ready to cum.

While continuing to flick her clit I slid two fingers of my other hand deep into her sopping vulva. Immediately Francesca began pushing hard against my fingers while at the same time raising her bucking hips even higher off the bed. She was very supple for a woman in her mid forties. As she began to grunt, I kept an eye on her tummy, which was moving up and down rapidly with her breathing. Then I was amazed to see her tummy muscles rippling and straining as her orgasm ripped through her body. She was doing as I had asked. She was working her body to make sure her orgasm was as visible as possible to those of us watching. Her pussy juices were running down my hand and making a damp spot on the bed.

Now, I have to be honest with you. I do find the sight of a woman having an orgasm incredibly erotic. The few porno movies that I have seen in the past have done little to turn me on, but the one part I always waited for was when the girl orgasms. Unfortunately sometimes they were fake, but the real ones certainly raised my temperature. But they were nothing compared to the sight of Francesca’s very genuine, and very overt, orgasm. It was incredible.

Finally I turned to eyeball Paula and Olivier. Paula was flushed and her eyes were wide as saucers. She looked like a stunned mullet. Olivier also looked more than a little stunned by what he had just witnessed. I gave Francesca a quick kiss on the cheek, pulled her sheet up to cover her, and then ushered my two zombie companions out of the bedroom.

As I farewelled Paula she was still shaking her head in disbelief and mumbling words like ‘amazing’ or ‘unbelievable’. I had not had an opportunity to speak to Olivier as the hospital had phoned to give him an update on one of his patients, so I undressed and climbed into bed. I was concerned as to how he was going to react to the scene that had just unfolded.

When he returned to our bedroom he silently undressed and climbed into bed beside me. I waited for him to say something but for a long while he just stared at the ceiling. I was just about to say something when I felt his hand rest on my thigh. Slowly he stroked my inner thigh and I willingly opened my legs slightly to give him access to my sexual epicentre. Until that moment I had not realised how sexually tense I was feeling and I prayed that he had more on his mind than just stoking my leg to give me reassurance. My prayers were answered when his fingers worked their up my thigh until they began to stroke my labia. It instantly sent small shocks through my body and I couldn’t help but moan with pleasure.

“My god, you are soaking wet,” Olivier muttered as he turned to look at me. “I think my Mother was not the only one to enjoy herself.”

I blushed with shame. To be honest I had not realised just how aroused I was.

“And I thought I knew everything there is to know about my darling wife. You really have been full of surprises over the past weeks,” Olivier continued. “So tell me, do all women have such strong sexual fantasies? I thought it was more of a men thing.”

“Of course it is not just a men thing. What a typical male comment,” I chided him with a big grin, relieved Olivier was far from upset at what he had witnessed.

“So….tell me what sexual fantasies my tall beautiful wife has running around in her head?”

“Let’s not go there,” I urged, pressing my vagina harder against his fingers to try and increase the stimulation that was beginning to drive me crazy.

But Olivier cruelly responded by pulling his hand away, causing me to moan again, but this time in displeasure.

“Yes, let’s go there. I want to hear one of your fantasies. And I promise you there will be no satisfaction for you tonight until you play ball.”

“Damn you,” I chastised him. I was genuinely embarrassed by the thought of discussing my fantasies with him, but I was also highly aroused and desperately needed relief. “I guess one of my favourite fantasies is being tied up so a person can have there wicked way with my body and there is no way I can stop them. Being tied up is a common fantasy for woman,” I added, as if in some way I was trying to reassure him that my fantasy was very mainstream and not at all deviant.  Given my behaviour over the past few weeks it was probably a bit late trying to act pure as snow.

Olivier’s response to my confessed fantasy was to gaze at me with a devious grin on his face. He then jumped out of bed and walked over to the scotch chest and rumbled around in one of the drawers. When he returned I noticed he had a number of my scarves in his hand. I immediately realised where this was leading

“No, Olivier,” I muttered defensively, “It is only a fantasy. Fantasies should just remain as….fantasies.”

“Is that so? I think Francesca’s fantasies look very alive to me.”

With that Olivier took one of my arms and tied it to the corner of the headboard with one of the scarves.

“Olivier!” I protested, but despite my act of indignation I did not resist when he stretched my arm above my head and tied it.

He then moved to the other side of bed and secured my other arm to the opposite corner. He then took hold of the bed coverings and in one swift action pulled them from the bed. I was lying there naked with my arms secured above my head. I don’t believe I have ever felt so vulnerable.

“Open your legs,” Olivier commanded.

Despite my vulnerability I did not resist, and Olivier then went through the process of tying each of my ankles to the corners of the base board. I was now spread-eagled on my back and unable to move at all. I felt so exposed and so helpless, but damn I also had to admit to myself it felt incredibly erotic. Olivier then began to ‘torture’ me by lightly running his fingernails over my torso and under my arms, causing me to laugh and squirm, begging him to stop. Olivier knew I was incredibly ticklish and was enjoying seeing squirm and with no way of escape.

Suddenly there was a light knock on the door, followed by “Mummy.”

My laughing and begging for mercy had obviously awoken our seven year old daughter, Abigail. Pandemonium erupted in the bedroom. I desperately indicated to Olivier to remove the ties but instead he just pulled the blankets up over me and threw the pillows over my extended arms so that the scarves were hidden. I looked at him, mortified, as he then left me there and went to the door to fetch Abigail.

As all parents will know, a sexual escapade with your partner when there are young children in the house is not always a good mix and can lead to embarrassing situations. Such as being tied spread-eagled to the bed when your husband brings your seven year old into the room.

“Give Mummy a cuddle and then I will take you into the kitchen for a hot milk.”

Abigail jumped onto the bed and gave me a cuddle and a kiss. I couldn’t move but fortunately she did not seem to notice. The two of them then retreated leaving me helpless in my bondage.

After what seemed an eternity, but was probably less than fifteen minutes, Olivier returned, and I noticed he had several lengths of rope in his hand.

“Look what I found?” he smiled gleefully.

“Oliver!” I protested.

“Abigail is in bed but I promised I would return and stay with her awhile until she is asleep. But before I go I just wanted to ratchet up your fantasy a few more knots, if you will excuse the pun.”

“Olivier, no!” I again protested.

However my protests went unheeded. Olivier took one of the lengths of rope and slid it under my shoulders before bringing it across the top of my breasts. He then slid it under my back again before bringing it across the bottom of my breasts. After repeating the process he knotted the ropes above and below my breasts together. This had the affect of squeezing my small breasts together and pushing my erect nipples out.

After briefly admiring his handiwork he took the second length of rope and slid it under my waist and tied it. He then slid the knot under my back and then pulled the free length of rope between my butt cheeks and up over my vagina. He separated my swollen labia to ensure the rope slid down in between the lips. Olivier then pulled it tight and secured it to the rope around my waist. Again he stood beside the bed to admire his handiwork, and he seemed very pleased with the result.

“You look very cute,” he grinned. “Bondage looks very good on you. You should wear it more often!” With that he lightly kissed me on the cheeks before quickly retreating out of the room.

“Olivier…the sheets…please cover me, or switch the light off!” I begged, but he was gone.

The house fell into silence and I began to contemplate my predicament. I tried to pull against the scarves but Olivier had done a good job ensuring I could not get free. My breasts were captured in a bra of rope and as I struggled against the scarves the rope made my nipples even more achingly sensitive. But this was nothing compared to my rope thong that split my labia apart. When I struggled against the scarves that secured my hands and feet, this caused the rope on my pelvis to move slightly. Even though the movement was only slight it sent powerful sensations shuddering through my body.

Lying on my bed, naked, spread-eagled, with nothing covering me and the light switched on, I was indeed living out my sexual fantasy. The amazing thing was that actually experiencing it, rather than just fantasizing, was more erotic than I would ever have imagined. And as much as I had to admit it, the vulnerability of my predicament made the experience more powerful. If anyone walked into the room I could do nothing to hide or protect myself. My naked body was openly on display and nothing would be hidden from prying eyes. As these thoughts raced around in my head I began to struggle even more against the bonds, ensuring I moved my upper and lower torso as much as I could. The friction of the rope was electrifying, and after several blissful minutes a sledgehammer of an orgasm quickly built and then ripped through my body. I felt like I was in seventh heaven, so powerful were the sensations.

I then must have dozed off because when I next looked at the clock it was almost 1.00 a.m. and nearly two hours had passed. A quick glance to the side of the bed confirmed that Olivier had not returned. I strongly suspected he had fallen asleep in Abigail’s room, which he was apt to do when he got up to her during the night. The question I had was whether he had accidentally fallen asleep or had it been a deliberate ploy to keep me in this bondage. Either way I silently cursed him. My arms and legs were beginning to ache and the rope around my breasts and pelvic region was digging into me. Added to this I badly needed to have a pee. However there was no way I could call out to him and out of frustration I began to yank at the scarves again in a bid to free myself. I thought if I pulled on the scarves hard enough they might tear. But the more I struggled, the more the ropes moved against my nipples and labia. Despite myself I could feel the sexual tension building in my body. I desperately tried to ignore it. I didn’t want an orgasm. I wanted to get free and have a pee. I struggled even more, and more, and more. My resistance waned and my sexual desires took over. At that point I knew I was struggling for my own sexual gratification. I wriggled my pelvis up and down to get maximum stimulation on my clitoris. My body was pounding up and down on the bed and I was bathed with sweat. When the orgasm hit it was every bit as powerful as the first one. My pelvis and shoulders were arched high in air as I let the sensations of the orgasm rip through my body.

As the orgasm subsided I lowered my aching body and opened my eyes, which had been closed during my struggle and subsequent orgasm. To my horror a grinning Olivier was standing beside the bed.

“That was some show. You women certainly know how to live out your fantasies.”

I was intensely embarrassed. “You bastard,” I responded. “Get me out of these ropes.”

“Sorry,” he smiled, but not looking very sincere, “I must have fallen asleep.”

“Whatever!” I tried to sound angry to cover my humiliation. “Untie me as I badly need to pee.”

“Is that so? Well perhaps I should go and check on Abigail and come back later.”

“Olivier, don’t be an absolute bastard,” I pleaded.

“Well…perhaps we should talk about my fantasies first.”

“Can’t we talk about them after I pee?”

“Now come on Jane, don’t be selfish.” Olivier was relishing the opportunity to take advantage of my helplessness. “If you agree to let me live out one of my fantasies then I will let you have a pee.”

“Alright, I agree,” I quickly responded.

“Don’t you want to hear what you are agreeing to?”

“No…tell me after.” I was getting desperate as I did not have the strongest bladder following the birth of Abigail.

“Very well. If you insist.”

With that Olivier untied the scarves from around the base of the bed but instead of removing them from my ankles he secured the ends of the scarves together, giving my feet only about six inches of movement. He then untied the scarves from the headboard and then instructed me to roll over onto my tummy. I tried to protest but before I knew it he had rolled me over onto my stomach, pulled my hands together and then secured them with the scarves.

“What are you doing,” I protested. “You promised me you would untie me and let me pee.”

“No…I told you I would let you pee. I didn’t say I would untie you.”

“Olivier…please!”

Do you want to pee or not?”

“Yes, desperately!”

With that Olivier rolled me onto my back and manoeuvred my legs so they were hanging over the side of the bed, before pulling me to my feet. I stood there ungainly, hands tied behind my back and my feet hobbled together so I could only move in a slow shuffle. I began my slow shuffle to the on-suite toilet when I realised I still had the rope pulled tight up through my labia.

“The rope. Remove it quickly before I pee on the carpet.”

“The rope stays.”

I wanted to protest but my desperation to pee did not leave time for an argument. I resumed my shuffle, going as quickly as I could without falling over. When I finally reached the bathroom the toilet seat cover was down.

“Olivier,” I screamed as loud as I dared. “The toilet seat.”

Olivier lifted the cover and then gave a regal bow at the waist. “There you are your Majesty, your throne awaits.”

If my hands hadn’t been tied I think I would have punched him squarely between the eyes. Quickly I lowered myself down on the toilet seat, and not a moment too soon. The urine fair gushed out of me. The rope was inhibiting the flow but as long as I could pee I didn’t really care. Once I had emptied my bladder I had to withstand the indignity of Olivier helping me back to my feet then standing there like an ignoramus while he used toilet paper to wipe me clean.

As erotic as it was being tied up, I realised I liked the feeling of being the dominant one rather than having to be totally submissive, and from that respect I was surprised, and a little annoyed, that I had found it so sexually stimulating. Go figure that one out!

Once I had hobbled back to the bedroom I sat down on the edge of the bed.

“So?” I enquired

“So?” Olivier responded

“So what is the fantasy my smartass husband?”

“I want to screw you, doggy style.”

That’s not so bad I thought.

“While you are nude and draped over the bonnet of the Audi,” he continued.

I looked at him incredulously, while thinking that only a male would fantasise about screwing his wife while she was sprawled naked over the bonnet of his beloved sports car.

“So do I get to be untied while you bang me on the bonnet?” I grinned.

He thought about it. “Given you are going to have to walk naked across the yard to the garage, I think it is only fair that I remove the scarves, but the ropes stay.”

I wasn’t entirely happy with his response on a couple of counts. Firstly having to keep the ropes on that encircled my breasts and pelvis, and secondly the bit about walking naked across the yard. But I knew that I had an open-minded husband who had taken a very liberal view to my antics over recent weeks, and I felt the least I could do was give him this moment to live one of his fantasies. Besides, our bedroom had doors directly onto the veranda that led to the yard, and neither Francesca nor Abigail’s bedrooms had windows that faced that way.

So without argument I held up my feet so Olivier could untie them, and then stood and turned so he could free my hands from behind my back. Silently I let him take my hand and lead me out the bedroom, over the veranda and across the yard. It felt strange and exciting to be walking outdoors in the nude. Given we live on an orchard I was fairly certain we were hidden from prying eyes, but you still had the feeling there were a hundred unseen eyes taking in your nakedness.

Once we got to the garage where our two cars are kept he unlocked it, turned on the light, led me inside and then re-fastened the door. Without being asked I walked over to the Audi TT in the corner, stood in front of it, and then bent forward to rest my upper torso on the bonnet. The cold metal crushed my breasts, which couldn’t flatten out because of the rope restraints.

“Open your legs wide,” Olivier commanded.

I obliged by spreading my feet as wide apart as I could, causing the rope to push even further into my spread labia. Despite the fact I had already had two orgasms tonight I was surprised how randy I still felt. I provocatively arched my buttocks up as much as I could with my legs spread. I felt like an animal on heat trying to lure the male partner.

“Fuck me hard,” I urged.

I felt Olivier take hold of the rope and with some difficulty pull it to one side. Then with a grunt his rigid penis penetrated me deeply. I was so well lubricated that no rope restraint was going to keep out a determined penis. Olivier then proceeded to fuck me with slow, hard thrusts and it felt so good I found myself purring like a contented pussycat. Although we had had sex before with him entering me from behind, we had always been lying on the bed. Being fucked doggie style while standing up was a new and pleasurable experience which I had to admit was heightened even further by the ropes that bound my upper and lower torso. As my third orgasm of the night hit me I felt Olivier thrusting rapidly and hard and knew that he dispersing his sperm deep inside of me.

After gathering our composure Olivier removed my ropes and I was pleased to have them off after being bound for three hours. Hand in hand, like naked jaybirds, we walked back to the house and flopped onto the bed. It had turned out to be quite a night.