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CH 50
Mom and Lady L became instant friends. Lady L was surprised to learn that Mom not only knew about our life style, but that she accepted it. They slipped away during the reception and Mom showed her the rack in the barn. Lady L’s face was bright pink when they came down, and her nipples pressed firmly through her dress. She had a quick whispered conversation with her husband, who stared at Mom in astonishment. Mom smiled sweetly at him and he raised his champagne glass in salute. Later I saw the three of them deep in conversation, and they all shut up and tried to look innocent when another guest wandered into their group.
Lord and Lady L invited Mom to visit them in Denver and she spent a long weekend there while Brad and I were on our honeymoon. Now Mom visits them regularly and they go out to the farm about once a month. I began to suspect that they were having bondage orgies at Mom’s house.
I wondered if Mom had taken my place with Lord and Lady L and I was a little jealous at first, but reminded myself that I was out of the bondage life and it didn’t matter.
She even travels with them. I was bemused and excited by the idea of Mom and Lady L playing out some of the scenarios we had done. I imagined them rolling around in a cat fight showing their panties to Lord L’s guests, and fantasized (in great detail) the two of them tied together. I remembered how Lady L had surprised everyone by taking part in that very violent orgy and wondered if she and Mom were doing those things together. The vision of Mom and Lady L being gang raped on tables or being hanged nearly drove me wild.
Mom told me about going sailing aboard a chartered yacht off Costa Rica. I remembered the orgy on a boat that Lady L and I participated in and wondered if Mom had done the same thing. I couldn’t get the vision out of my mind and after several weeks I asked if she and Lady L were having sex. Mom pretended to be indignant and demanded to know why I would ask such a question. I told her about the orgy of the boat. She pressed me for details and made me confess to every wild thing that I’d done with Lady L. After talking for hours I’d told Mom everything. She looked at me oddly when I talked about Lady L and I playing our mother-daughter acts, but didn’t say anything.
I expected her to tell me what she and Lady L might be doing but she just smiled sweetly and said that a lady of her years should not be revealing her secrets. She hinted that they had spent much of their time on the yacht topless (and worse) and marveled at how much rope there is aboard a sail boat, but no matter how much I pressed her, that was all she would say. I could have killed her.
Lady L wouldn’t tell me anything either, and the two of them had a great time dropping hints about whose turn it was to be the boat’s figurehead and what it felt like to be tied to palm trees for hours at a time and how many virile young sailors were in the crew, but they wouldn’t go into any detail. They loved keeping me guessing.
I did hear about Lady L’s delight in hanging nude from the loft crane while Lord L attended to Mom on the rack. They wouldn’t say whether he screwed Mom or not, but I got incredibly excited when I imagined that the same cock which had fucked me so many times might have been inside my mother too. Apparently Mom’s boss gets invited at times and has borrowed Lady L while Lord L was with Mom.
I heard all this at lunch one day when Mom was in Denver. Lady L and Mom showed up wearing short skirts and I didn’t have to be told that they weren’t wearing panties. True to form, Lady L had fun exposing herself and I wasn’t surprised to see Mom sitting with her legs open too. They teased me so much that even though I’d promised myself to behave (now that I was married), I gave up, went into the ladies room and took off my panties. Several gentlemen at a nearby table got an eyeful that afternoon. And the waiter overheard some incredible stories.
After the marriage I packed away all my bondage things and took them to the farm. I ended up with four big boxes of rope, chains, crotch straps, nipple clamps, vibrators and my chastity belt. I felt that I should throw then away but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Some of the things were from Dale and they were precious keepsakes. Of the rest, I offered a few of the items to mom to use, and the remainder I put in storage in the attic. I kept hoping that someday I might talk my husband into using them on me.
Brad continued to tie me up and spank me, but it took an effort on his part. He wasn’t truly a master. He tried, for my sake, but his heart just wasn’t into torture. I loved him for his sweetness but I also needed to be enslaved.
Two years into the marriage I got pregnant. Brad changed at once. He told me that as an expectant mother I ought not to have sex, and bondage was utterly out of the question. I tried to explain that I would be fine with both but he was adamant. After my daughter was born things got worse. Brad developed the ‘Madonna syndrome’ and no longer saw me as a sexual person. He thought that as a mother I had to concentrate on my child and forgo sex. I regained my figure after giving birth and my face is still the same but he just didn’t see me as desirable any more. We had many long discussions and quite a few ended in quarrels.
I decided to be patient and let him get back to normal, but every time I tried to have sex with him he refused.
One Saturday afternoon Denise agreed watch the baby. I showered, fixed myself up and tied myself naked to the bed and waited for my husband to come home. I left a note on the kitchen counter telling Brad that his humble slave girl was waiting for him in the bedroom and hoped he would do anything and everything he wanted to her.
It was a disaster.
Brad walked in, took one look at me and called me every name in the book. ‘Whore’ was the least of them. I couldn’t understand his anger and I was devastated by the terrible things he said to me. I untied myself, got dressed and picked up the baby, then I drove to the farm and stayed with Mom for a few days.
Brad and I tried counseling but it didn’t help. He blamed me and my ‘perversions’ for all our troubles.
He became moody and sullen and got fired from his job for poor performance. He blamed me for that too.
Brad went down hill very fast. He couldn’t keep a job and the bills fell upon me. I worked hard, took on extra projects to make extra money but then Brad complained that I was never home. When I worked overtime he accused me of seeing men and going back to my sluttish ways.
Things got so bad that we almost lost our house. Even when he did work Brad didn’t bring in much money and he often fell behind in paying bills. I had to take over running the household finances. Brad finally took a job as a truck driver and was gone for days, sometimes weeks at a time.
I was glad when he was away because I was free of his anger and sullen moods. I remained faithful and hoped that someday he would calm down and learn to love me. I would even be willing to forgo my love of bondage if only Brad would love me. I felt so lonely and I was so terribly tempted to call Mary or Denise and have someone torture me. My body and soul ached to feel a whip.
The worst time came when he got arrested in Indiana for fighting in a bar and was fired by the trucking company. I had to send him money for bail and a bus ticket home.
When he got back to Denver he blamed me. He said that if he didn’t have to worry about what I might be doing behind his back he wouldn’t have all the problems at work. Nothing I could say or do would convince him that I was faithful to him.
One morning I was doing laundry in the basement. My husband was upstairs watching television. I found a piece of old rope and idly wrapped it around my wrists and instantly the old delight flashed back. The excitement was like a physical blow and I had to grasp the washing machine to keep my balance. I looked toward the open basement door, then tied myself to a ceiling beam.
I looped the rope over the beam and tied nooses for my wrists. At first I just sod with my arms above my head, which felt wonderful. Then I released myself and took off my dress. I retied myself in my panties and bra and waited until the wash cycle finished, then I got loose, took off my underwear, tossed them in with the others and started another load of clothes. When the washer was loaded and the dryer was going I stood on a box and tied my wrists very tightly, then I stepped off the box. My first orgasm in months struck my belly like punch from a fist. I almost screamed with the wonderful feeling between my legs! I almost lost consciousness.
I hung from the beam for half an hour while the washer cycled, then I released myself again. I tied the rope around my waist and between my legs very tightly. I slipped into my dress and went upstairs. It felt incredible to walk around wearing that crotch rope. Brad was slouched in front of the television and didn’t even glance at me.
I searched through all the closets looking for more things to wash and spent the rest of the day in the basement. I must have washed over a dozen loads of laundry.
Each time went downstairs I stripped naked and as soon as the washer was filled I tied myself again.
I began to change positions each time the dryer chimed and I became so daring that I tied myself into a very tight hogtie. I lay on the floor and pressed my nipples against the hard cool concrete. I struggled against the ropes and managed to work myself into another wonderful orgasm with the crotch rope. I felt so contented that I fell asleep for a few minutes. When I woke up I was so out of practice and it took a long time to get loose.
While I was doing all this I could hear Brad walking around upstairs and at first was afraid that he might come down and discover me, but then I didn’t care and almost hoped he would. I was tempted to call him down and let him see me bound. Perhaps he would either screw me or get so angry that he would beat me. I think I would have enjoyed either one.
After I’d put the last load of clothes in the dryer I tied my wrists in front and tiptoed up the basement stairs. I opened the door a crack and peeked at my husband while he slumped in his easy chair. I slipped the handle of a garden trowel up my pussy, crouched with my knees wide apart and masturbated to a third delicious orgasm while he stared at the television.
When the laundry was done I slipped into my clothing and went upstairs. I was putting away the laundry and giggled when I realized that for the first time in my life every pair of panties I owned was clean and folded neatly in my dresser.
I took my daughter to the playground wearing only my crotch rope under my dress, and managed to control myself and keep from flashing people as I sat on a park bench. Afterwards I cooked dinner and we ate, all the time my pussy was in strict restraint.
I wore the pussy rope all evening.
After that I often played with self bondage. At first I only did it when Brad was out of the house, but then I discovered that it was naughty and sexy to tie myself while he was home and to see how close I could let him come to discovering me.
One night in bed I quietly tied myself into a hog tie while he slept beside me. I lay on the bed with my legs pulled tightly up behind me and tugged them so tight that the ropes cut into my wrists. I fell asleep and slept off and on through the night. I woke up in time to untie myself before Brad got up. He and I went through our morning routine of shaving, showering, my makeup and such, and he never once noticed the deep rope marks on my wrists and ankles.
I wasn’t very rested that day but I still felt wonderful.
I wore pussy ropes constantly, at home and at work and they usually held a vibrator in place, sometimes two.
One laundry morning I tied the end on my pussy rope to the back of the washing machine, and then hung myself by my wrists. I raised my feet and slipped them through another suspended noose so that my weight was on the pussy rope. Hanging was sexy enough but when the washer went into the spin cycle the vibrations through my pussy rope sent me into a very nice and wonderfully long orgasm.
Another time I was enjoying that position when the load of clothing became unbalanced and the washer thumped so loudly that it shook the house. I was writhing in pure ecstasy from the incredible vibrations between my legs but Brad yelled down for me to fix the damn washer. I had to try to untie myself while still convulsing in an orgasm, and I almost didn’t make it. I heard his angry footsteps and just managed to turn off the washer before he started downstairs. I scrambled into my dress then collapsed into helpless giggles when he went away. I leaned against the dryer and promptly fell asleep. (Passed out was more like it.) When I woke my legs were sprawled wide apart and my skirt was up around my waist.
I added more fun to the scenario by tying cords to my nipples and running them to the washer. The only problem was that the darn spin cycle was too short.
I told Denise about my laundry room bondage. She laughed and told me that she knew I couldn’t stay away.
“I haven’t returned to the scene,” I told her. “Self bondage isn’t cheating.”
She snorted derisively, then asked if I intended to take in laundry.
“Now that’s not a bad idea,” I said. “It would give me an excuse to spend more time in the basement.”
“Yes, and perhaps you could make enough money that you could quit your job and work at home.”
“Hmm, do you think I should advertise as a laundry slave?”
“Sure, and just think of the business you could generate when it becomes known that you do the work in the nude.”
“And I could answer the door naked too, when the customers come to pick up their clothes.”
“Great idea and a good marketing tactic, but you shouldn’t be entirely naked.”
“Oh?”
“You ought to wear a slave collar and a pussy rope.”
“Of course,” I said. “And I could have business cards printed: ‘Satisfaction guaranteed or you can spank the laundress.’
“You can do my family’s clothes,” she said. “But I expect a professional discount. I’ll pay you with spankings.”
“How’s that?”
“One spank per garment,” she said. “And socks don’t count.”
“Oh yes they do,” I said, giggling. “One spank for each article of clothing, and I get the whip for cleaning your leather gear.”
“Does fifty strokes for a corset sound fair to you?” she laughed.
“Nope, a hundred.”
“Ok.”
I laughed until I cried.
“Now, in all seriousness,” she said. “Why don’t you meet me after work and I’ll hang you by your wrists and whip the daylights out of you.”
God I was tempted.
CH 51
One evening we were watching television. Brad sat in the recliner, I on the couch. I covered myself with an afghan, curled my legs up and very slowly surreptitiously tied my ankles together. (I’d hidden ropes under the cushions). Next I tied my hands together in front. Brad didn’t even glance at me.
After a couple of hours I tried to quietly untie myself but discovered it takes a lot more movement than I thought. I gave up and lay quietly until Brad went to the bathroom. As soon as he walked out I sat up and got my hands untied, then with my ankles still bound I hopped into the kitchen. I just managed to get the rope off my ankles when he came in.
Brad didn’t notice the rope marks on my skin, nor the bright flush on my face. He just got a beer out of the refrigerator and went back to the television. I sat on the kitchen table, opened my legs and played with my pussy until I came. Then I went back and watched more tv.
The next evening I wore a crotch rope under my robe with a noose on the back. As before, I covered myself with a throw, tied my ankles, then slowly slipped my wrists through the loop in back and hogtied myself. My husband sat six feet away and had no clue what I was doing. I closed my eyes and tugged steadily on the crotch rope until I made myself come! (Do you know how much self control it takes to have an orgasm while pretending to be asleep?)
When his tv show ended he got up, gave me a peck on the cheek and went to bed. I rolled off the couch and crawled around the carpet like an inchworm, pressing my breasts against the floor. I writhed and rolled around the room until I almost knocked a lamp over. I huffed and groaned and pulled hard on the pussy rope until I came, then I allowed myself to lay on the floor for a long time savoring the orgasm before I untied myself..
The next night I tied myself into a tight hogtie in bed and wiggled against my pussy rope while Brad slept beside me. I had another orgasm but kept very quiet and Brad barely stirred.
Another time I crept naked into the bedroom and tied a rope to the footboard and another to the headboard. Then, moving very quietly, I tied my feet to the bottom rope and my wrists to the upper one. I tugged carefully until my body was stretched very tight. The night was warm and bright moonlight shone through the windows as I lay atop the sheet. My skin was pale silver in the moonlight and I lay beside Brad for hours thinking of the wonderful things that people had done to me when I was a slave. I was so excited that I nearly had an orgasm, and when I finally untied myself I fell asleep and dreamt delightful dreams about whips and nipple clamps and hanging from the crane at the barn.
I bought a bulky oversized bath robe that concealed the fact that I was wearing nipple clamps while I did my makeup every morning. Over the years my husband never suspected that the first thing I did when I got out of the shower was to tie a rope through my pussy, and the second thing was to put clamps on my nipples. And he never had a clue that I was sleeping beside him in bondage.
On a visit to Mom’s place I dug through the boxes and got my chastity belts, a set of restraint cuffs and a collar. I took them home and hid them in the basement.
At the first opportunity I buckled the cuffs on my wrists and ankles and locked myself into a hogtie in the basement. I also put on the collar but I didn’t enjoy wearing it. It reminded me that I wasn’t anyone’s slave, that I didn’t have a master, so I stopped wearing it. I began to think of myself as an unclaimed sex slave.
I wept when I put the chastity belt on. I hadn’t worn one for years and it reminded me of Dale. I missed him very much, and Bob, and the police lieutenant, and especially MAC.
After I had a good cry I got dressed and went shopping. I felt very sexy with the unyielding metal between my legs, and I started wearing the belt almost every day, even to work.
The belt created a terrifically erotic experience that severely tested my resolve.
My car was broken down and we didn’t have the money to get it fixed, so I was riding the bus to work. The bus was crowded and I had to stand. As the bus turned a corner I was pressed against a man beside me and he felt my chastity belt against his leg. He looked down curiously, then looked at me. I blushed and looked away, but the bus lurched again and I was pressed against him once more. The man looked into my eyes, then boldly reached down and patted my bottom. I stood frozen as his fingers explored the metal band around my waist and the bar between my legs. A knowing look came over his face and I knew instantly that he understood about chastity belts.
When the bus reached my stop he followed me off. I started to walk away when he told me to wait.
I was very nervous, but very excited too.
He waited until the other passengers were out of earshot, then spoke to me.
“I see that you’re wearing a chastity belt,” he said conversationally.
“Yes, I am,” I answered. My heart was pounding.
“Who put it on you?”
“I did.”
He nodded understandingly. “You are a slave?”
“Yes sir.”
“Do you have the key with you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Would you give me the key,” he said politely. “I want to take you someplace private and take that belt off of you.”
I was so tempted. I didn’t know the man but I was so tempted to let a stranger take charge of me. If only for an hour, I wanted to be dominated, controlled, spanked and screwed. If only for an hour.
“I can’t,” I whispered. “I’m married and I can’t.”
He nodded. “Too bad,” he said. “Your husband is a lucky man. Please forgive my presumption.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” I told him. “If I weren’t married, I would give you the key.” He smiled, a friendly, understanding smile. I turned and walked away. He went back to the bus stop.
I felt more connected to that gentleman after ten seconds of conversation then I did with my husband after three years of marriage.
It’s a sad commentary on my marriage that strangers were interested in my chastity belt, but my husband never had a clue that I was wearing one.
Brad is an early riser and was often in bed by nine o’clock while I stayed up and ironed clothes or cleaned the house. (It never occurred to him to help out, despite the fact that I was working and he wasn’t). I didn’t mind because it gave me time to myself, and I often did my chores naked. Eventually I wore wrist and ankle cuffs and a crotch rope, and sometimes I would tiptoe into the bedroom and look down at my stupid snoring husband.
One warm evening Brad was snoring away upstairs and I went into the backyard and tied myself to the clothesline pole. The moon was full and anyone could have seen my naked body in the moonlight. I stood against the pole for hours and remembered the evenings at the farm tied to the gatepost. Cars drove past the house and I remembered the night at the farm when the sheriff’s car had stopped a few hundred yards away. That officer had missed the chance of a lifetime.
The next day I asked Brad to modify the clotheslines so that the poles had cross bars. He never thought to ask why, nor did it occur to him that I never hung the laundry out. He did as I asked and I was able to tie myself to a tee cross. I added a pussy rope tied to the top of the cross and could rub myself against it until I came, but usually I brought myself close, then relaxed and did it again. It took a lot of will power, but I teased myself for a long time before I came.
Another evening I hung myself by my wrists from a tree limb and fell asleep. I woke hours later and the ropes had tightened so that I almost couldn’t get loose. The sun was coming up when I managed to free myself and I crawled in bed moments before my alarm clock went off. My wrists and shoulders hurt terribly and I called in sick at work, but the minute Brad left the house I kicked off the covers and played with my pussy until I came like an earthquake.
One night it was raining, softly and steady. After doing all my chores I tied my wrists behind my back and walked naked around the back yard. I even went to the front and stood in the deep shadow of the corner of the house. I watched passing cars and fantasized about tying myself to the front porch and letting the milk man find me. What would he do, I wondered.
After a while I went back and tied myself spread between the posts on the back porch. I got cool after a while, then downright cold, but I was in a masochistic state of mind and I told myself I deserved to be uncomfortable. Sure enough, I got so turned on that I was able to make myself come by just a little wiggling against my crotch rope. After a terrific orgasm I went in, filled the tub with hot water and enjoyed a long soak to warm up.
Another time I’d tied myself into a hogtie on the front porch and had fallen asleep. I woke to the sound of a car radio and had just raised my head when the newspaper landed beside me with a loud thump. I was startled and frightened and very excited and expected to see the paper boy standing over me. I rolled onto my side and tried to open my legs, but there was no one close. He had tossed the paper from the car window.
I tore my ropes off, opened the paper and rolled part of it into a tube, then thrust it inside myself and masturbated until I came.
At the breakfast table Brad complained that the newspaper was scattered on the porch when he went out to get it. He grumbled about the sloppy delivery boy.
One very erotic night happened when I’d tied myself to the clothes line post. I was dreamily fantasizing about MAC torturing me when the kitchen light came on. The light shone through the window and illuminated my naked body. I saw Brad puttering around, then he yelled in frustration.
“Mary, where the hell is the bread?”
“There is a fresh loaf on the top shelf of the pantry,” I answered.
“What are you doing outside?” he demanded.
“Just getting some fresh air,” I replied. “I’ll be in shortly.”
I watched him find the bread and open the wrapper. He made himself a sandwich. If he had only glanced out the window he would have seen me.
I dropped my hips and opened my legs as wide as I could, then gyrated against the post. I watched my husband make a sandwich, then leave the kitchen. Naturally he left the lights on and a mess on the counter but I didn’t care. I wondered if any of the neighbors were awake, because if they had happened to look across the fence they would have seen me. I rather hoped they might and did a naughty little bump and grind against the post. No once climbed the fence to rape me so after a while I got loose, went in and cleaned up the kitchen. Then I went to bed and played with my pussy.
I didn’t get a lot of sleep in those days but I didn’t mind. My co workers assumed that I must have had a terrific sex life at home because they commented that even though I was yawning through the day I seemed to be in a happy mood. I just smiled at them, wriggled a little to feel my crotch rope and went on with my work.
I often spent weekends at the farm and Brad didn’t object. He didn’t think I could get into mischief at my mom’s place, and he could lay around the house and get drunk Mom covered for me and played with my baby while I spent hours in bondage in the loft. Sometimes Mom helped tie me to the rack and made the ropes so tight that I couldn’t move a muscle, then she would leave me helpless while she took my little girl into town for ice cream.
During this time I worked on some of the tricks I’d teased Dianne about. I tried to rig up a dildo that I could catch in my pussy as I slid along the board, and that turned out to be a lot harder than I thought. It took a lot of trial and error to get the thing at just the right height and that required a lot of climbing up and down the ladder to reset the weight. Even when I managed to entrap the thing I still missed half the time. Mom watched one afternoon as I tried time after time, and she laughed so hard that her sides hurt all next day.
I also tried to set the weight so that it would snatch me into the air by my ankles. That resulted in a sprained hip and a large bump on my head when I swung into the wall. Mom drove me to the clinic and I was checked over by the same doctor who had treated Dianne. He didn’t fail to notice the rope marks on my skin, and I thought he was going to say something about them, but the nurse came into the room and he shut up. I just knew that he was going to demand to know about the rope marks. If he had, I would have told him everything.
When we got home Mom forbade me to try the trick again, but I managed to make it work and enjoyed a fantastic orgasm when it finally jerked me upwards. I worked at it, got the swing right and refined it by tying a long pussy rope between my legs with a substantial weight on the end. When I was jerked upward the pussy rope tugged the weight along and just about the time I reached the top of my swing the pussy weight fell off the plank and tightened the rope in my crotch very nicely. I had lots of nice orgasms with that one but I had to have Mom close to release me. Mom fussed at me for doing something so dangerous and wisely chose not to try that one herself.
On warm evenings Mom and I took turns hanging from the crane or being tied to the gate post. We usually didn’t tie ourselves at the same time because we couldn’t leave the baby unattended, but one evening I was lying on the front lawn in a tight hogtie. Mom had put the baby to bed and joined me on the lawn. We talked for a while, then she stood up, casually undressed, and tied herself besides me. We lay on the prickly grass for hours and talked. Talk about a nice mother-daughter relationship.
One Sunday evening as I was leaving to return home Mom very shyly asked a favor.
“Would you mind tying me to my bed, very tightly?” she asked, “So that I can’t get loose.”
“Ok, but I have to get back to Denver,” I replied. “I have to be at work in the morning.”
“Oh, you don’t have to stay,” she said. “I have a date tonight and I’d like to surprise him.”
I was flabbergasted.
“Your boss from the bank?” I asked.
She blushed and nodded.
“When is he coming?” I asked.
“In half an hour, but he won’t come in if he sees your car outside.”
“Oh, my God,” I breathed. “All right, I’ll do it. Get on the bed.”
“I have to take a quick shower,” she said.
When she emerged from the bathroom she dabbed perfume between her breasts and on the tops of her thighs, then climbed on the bed and opened her arms and legs, and I tied my mother to her own bed. I wrapped the rope neatly around her ankles, then her wrists and pulled gently until she was spread wide open.
I tied her very securely and watched her face as I did. She had the same look of ecstasy that I’ve worn so many times.
“Too tight?” I asked, knowing what her answer would be.
“No, I’m fine,” she said without opening her eyes. “But would you do one more favor and get a whip out of the closet.”
I cannot begin to say how tempted I was to bury my face in her pussy. It took all of my resolve to be good. I opened the closet and there was a row of whips hanging inside the door. Looking at those whips, I thought that nothing ever would surprise me as long as I lived.
“How long have you had these?” I asked.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” she said, “But I’ve had them quite sometime.”
“Which one to you want?” I asked.
“The long brown leather one,” she answered.
I hefted the whip, and then swung it a few times. It was a real whip, not a toy and I knew that it could inflict a lot of pain.
“Is this new?” I asked.
“No,” she said simply.
“Where do you want it?”
“Between my legs, please.”
For a split second I thought she wanted me to strike her between her legs with that whip, and my pussy went hot again.
I coiled the whip and placed it between her knees.
“Would you like me to get out the camera and take a few pictures?” I asked mildly sarcastic.
“No thanks, dear. He will bring his own.”
“Oh? Are you a porn model too?”
She just smiled at me.
“I think I’ll take a few pictures anyway,” I said. I got out the camera and took a roll of pictures of my mother tied to her bed. She smiled brightly as I snapped the shutter.
I kissed her on the cheek and left. I loaded the baby into the car and drove out the gate. I parked half a mile down the road and waited. If Mom’s date didn’t arrive I would have to go back and release her, but sure enough, his car appeared and he turned onto our driveway. He parked the car and walked in the house.
As I drove back to Denver I marveled at what had just happened. I imagined tying myself to Mom with my face in her pussy and hers in mine. I wondered what she would have said, or done.
Denise had the film processed for me. She knows a place where it can be done with complete discretion.
She and Mary were looking at them when I dropped by the shop. Mary pretended to be on the phone when I walked in.
“Yes Mrs. Moore, your pictures turned out just fine,” she said. “Oh yes, they are very erotic, and we’ve sent copies to all the major bondage magazines. I’m sure you’ll be getting offers very soon.” She looked at me in surprise. “Oh, your daughter just walked in. Would you like to talk to her?” She handed me the phone.
I put the phone to my ear and got a dial tone. “There’s no one on the line,” I said.
“Oh dear, we must have gotten cut off.”
“Very funny.”
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