Birthday

Ch 1

I could not pay any attention at work; somehow, commodity futures were not as interesting as my upcoming birthday present. Lynette, my live-in girlfriend, promised me something special for my birthday. “Something special” always means some new way for me to enjoy her luscious young body; last year, it meant her tight ass which she had always been afraid to give me. I wondered, thrill with anticipation what would it be this time, why did she need a whole weekend, and why did she go to our friends’ desert home on Thursday to “prepare.”

At four, I could take it no longer; I also could not hide the raging hard on that had been bothering me for the whole afternoon. I hopped on the car and drove into the desert. Lynette; thoughts of my dark haired beauty raced through my head as I tried to keep my speed reasonably near the limit. She began exploring her submissive side last year, after I took her anal virginity. It intrigued her how, something that hurt her so much could excite her so. It helped that she was a psychology major.

“It’s you,” she said one evening, “I wouldn’t do it otherwise, but I love you and I know that you like to…do me, there.”

She did not like then, or now, to use coarse language.

“So,” she continued, “I don’t mind the pain as much, since I know it gives you so much pleasure.”

“It will get easier soon,” I said kissing her firm, pink lips, “and I’ll be careful.”

“Don’t; it’s OK that it hurts. It means more to me that way.”

That’s how it all started. It was easy to lead her down the road to submission; she was pliant, obedient, almost, but not quite, eager; even when I took her curly, shoulder length hair and rammed my cock down her throat until she gagged.

What were her plans for my birthday?

I parked the car in the gravel driveway and rang the bell. Brett Jones opened the door.

I walked out of the desert heat, into the foyer.

“Hi Pete,” he said.

“Hi,” I glanced around expecting to see Lynette, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight, nor was there anyone else.

I followed him into the living room. He poured me a Scotch.

“What’s going on?” I asked, “Where is Lynette?”

He motioned me to a chair and sat down himself.

“She’s almost ready; she is anxious to kiss you,” he said. “Now, I have to prepare you.”

I sipped my drink, “Why all this mystery.”

“Peter: Lynette is a very special young woman. She’s been preparing, we’ve been preparing this for a month.”

He stood up and paced slowly about the room.

“She wanted to create something very special for you. I believe she has.”

“Will you tell me what it is already?”

He shook his head slightly, “Three days of pain; severe, brutal, extreme pain.”

I jumped up. “No!”

“No, she’s not ready, not for that. I refuse.”

He shook his head with more emphasis, “Lynette thought you would say that.”

I just looked at him.

“She knew you would refuse her sacrifice, even though you’d like to receive her gift,” Brett continued, “so she built in a safeguard, for you.”

“Even if you were to leave now,” he turned towards me, “she would have to endure it, just the same. She made me promise her that we, Olga and I would go on with it, regardless.”

I sat back on the couch, stunned, stymied. There was really nothing I could do to spare Lynette.

“There is one more thing.” Brett added.

He called out, through the open door “Jane!”

A young, beautiful blonde girl not more than an inch taller than five feet came in. She wore a light blue shift like mini dress that barely reached the tops of her thighs. Its gossamer fabric enhanced her charms, revealing also that she had nothing underneath. Her small, pedicured feet were bare.

“Hi,” she said looking at me through large, playful eyes.

Brett placed his hand on her shoulder, “You are not allowed to have sex with Lynette for this three days, nor will she be able to service you for a while, until she recovers,” he nudged Jane slightly in my direction.

She approached me smiling, “Lynette arranged for me to stay with you for the next three weeks. You may do anything with me; nothing permanent, of course, until she recovers.”

She knelt by my side, placing my hand on her head. I sat there, stunned by the implications.

“There is nothing you can do but sit back and enjoy the show.” Brett said, “Come, let’s go and see what your girlfriend prepared for you.”

He left us. Jane led me by the hand, down the stairs, to their ample playroom.

Brett and Olga’s basement was huge and had a playroom area with all the toys you could imagine, and some you couldn’t, as well as an intimate theater room. Jane led me to the theater.

The room was quite dark, with four recliner chairs surrounding the brightly lit stage. Unlike the usual arrangement, the stage was not raised above the floor. It seemed there would only be one spectator: me. On the stage, two stout poles stood, about six feet apart. Off to a side, a large, dark chest. Nothing else. There was no one there yet, except for the gorgeous Jane and me. I felt the cool air on my arms and heard the hum of the air conditioner in the distance.

A door opened and Olga led Lynette in by the hand. I tried to rush to embrace her but Jane held me back.

“Don’t. Wait for her to come to you,” she said, “that is how she wants it.”

Lynette wore only a white terrycloth bathrobe; her feet were bare. She followed Olga with hesitation but, as soon as she saw me, her steps became firmer. Olga released her hand and she almost ran into my arms. I kissed her mouth deeply. Her body fluttered in my embrace, like a bird. She was actually shaking.

Her robe dropped on the floor; she was nude underneath. I held her in my arms, feeling her firm breasts under the thin fabric of my shirt, feeling the hard knobs of her nipples, erect from the cold air, tickling my skin. Still she shook in my arms and I could smell the fear in her scent.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t come,” she said, “then it would all be for naught.”

“It is time,” Olga said, extending her hand.

Lynette kissed me once more and wriggled off my embrace. She extended her hand to Olga’s.

“I am not as frightened anymore, now that you are here.”

Olga took her hand and led her to between the poles on the stage. She wore a black leather micro dress that revealed the garters that held up her hose. Her high heels showed off her long, smooth legs. Lynette may have said she wasn’t afraid anymore, but the goose bumps on her skin, and the way her hands shook as Olga tied two ropes on her wrists belied her brave statement.

Olga tied her, arms spread-eagled between the poles. She pulled on the ropes until Lynette stood on tiptoe, with the ropes carrying most of her weight. I could not keep my eyes off her body, her arms outstretched by the ropes, and the tension on her frame, the way her arms lifted her breasts and how the trembled with each intake of breath. I walked around the stage and finally stood before her, looking at her, taking in her body, tied, helpless. She watched me with her soft brown eyes, seeking, I thought, my approval. I saw her; I saw her skin, welted by a whip, lacerated by a single tail, ripped by unmentionable tools. My cock strained at my twill pants, it seemed as if all my blood gushed into its length; I felt faint and stumbled on my feet. Jane, who followed me closely, held me up for a brief instant until I recovered.

Lynette gave me a faint smile.

“Happy birthday, my love.”