A Colorado Country Girl\'s Self Bondage

A Colorado Country Girl’s self bondage CH 57

After my long weekend in the plains of Colorado I took a break from bondage for quite some time. I hadn’t lost interest, and the memories were wonderfully erotic, but I was tired and I was also very disturbed from wondering about the identity of the other women. I simply couldn’t get over the idea that I may have been licking my own mother’s pussy. The idea was wonderful and terrible. I know it was a fantasy (and it still is) but for a long time I was terribly confused.

I was offered a part in another porn film. I needed to get away for a bit so Mom watched my little girl and I flew to Los Angeles. The film was about twin sisters who are neglected by their husbands so they secretly become sex slaves. They join a bondage club and to conceal their identity they wear slave hoods. They have a great time going to the club and enjoy a lot of kinky sex, but it gets better when their husbands show up at a bondage party and unknowingly torture and screw their own wives.

I was paired with an actress who actually did wear a full hood the entire time of the shoot. She even wore it between takes and I never got to see her face. I was offered the role because I resembled her in size, skin color, etc, but our faces didn’t matter because they were never seen.

She wasn’t a professional actress but she had written the script based her own bondage experiences. She mailed the script to the production company and they accepted it immediately. They also offered her the part and flew her to L.A. Her original story involved a single woman but they decided to flesh out the pole into two women and to provide some dialogue other than moans and groans. Then they searched through actors’ profiles and decided on me to co star.

Since the other woman didn’t want her face to be shown I played both parts in the scenes where the sisters’ faces weren’t hidden. My makeup was altered slightly and I wore a wig when I played one sister and my own hair for the other. I had to play both sister in the scenes where they talk to each other. This was real acting, which I really enjoyed, and love to replay my copy to watch myself talking to myself. I felt like a true actress for a change. The other woman never appeared in a scene unhooded.

The sex scenes were rather tame by my book. We shot every scene in hoods and either naked or in slave harness and they were pretty much run of the mill bondage sex. They brought in eight male actors and we were tied up side by side and screwed front and back and forced to suck their cocks while kneeling together. And of course we were tied together and forced to each other’s pussy. There was no S and M involved at all, we weren’t whipped or even spanked. All in all, I thought that it was a rather dull picture - - until I talked to the other actress.

I’ll call her Masked Lady.

We were strapped to X frames, and the male actors had just screwed us non stop for over an hour. The director wanted them to cum on our bodies, not inside, so we were caked from head to toe. The men were a bit tired and the fluffers were washing semen and sweat off our bodies while the males recovered. They were lying around panting, drinking lots of fluids and falling asleep, but we felt fine (who wouldn’t?) No one thought to release us, and we didn’t bother to ask. We were content to stay bound to our crosses, and we chatted.

“So you wrote this?” I asked her.

“Yes.”

“It’s a nice fantasy,” I said, trying to be polite.

“It isn’t a fantasy,” she replied. “It’s real, it’s what I do.”

“Really?” I wasn’t impressed; after all it was routine bondage and group sex.

“I’ve been doing this for six years,” she answered, “And finally I just couldn’t keep this to myself.”

“No kidding?” There’s nothing new in that. The producers get tons of letters and pictures from amateurs.

“There was no one that I could confide in, so I kept a diary,” she said. “Finally I decided to make my diary into a movie script. I sent it to the production company but I was afraid that they wouldn’t believe that it was true.” 

“Truth or fantasy doesn’t matter in this business,” I told her. “I’ve learned that real kinky sex is stranger than most fantasies. I’ve been involved in some incredibly unlikely situations since I became a bondage slut.”
       “You call yourself that?” she asked shocked.

I laughed. “I do, and more. I’m comfortable with what I am.”

“How did you become . . . what you are?”

“It stared in high school when I talked a boy into tying me up in our barn. I loved it from the very beginning, and I haven’t changed my mind to this day.”

“They showed me two of your films when we were selecting the other actress,” she said. “They were very intense.”

“Do you mean the sex, or the masochism?”

“Both, but especially the masochism,” she said. “But that’s just not for me. I like being tied up but I can’t imagine letting someone whip me.”

“I love being whipped,” I said simply, “It turns me on.”

“So I saw,” she marveled. “It looked like you really were having orgasms.”

“I was,” I said. “I usually do when I’m making movies, which is why I like to make movies. I almost never have to fake them.”

“You really can have an orgasm from being tortured?” she asked.

“Yep.”

She shuddered. “That’s not for me.”

“Tell me about how you came to be here.”

“When the producer called me about the script he asked me to describe myself, and if I would send him some pictures of myself in the nude. My lover had taken lots so I sent some in. Then they called me back and offered me the role of playing myself.”

“That is very nice,” I said. “But I meant how did you get into bondage?”

“Oh, well I was very innocent,” she said. “Naïve really. My husband and I live in a small town in. He is a carpenter and he does construction and makes furniture in our workshop. I answer the phone and do the accounting and I keep a garden to stretch our food budget.

“The town we live in is so small that everyone knows everything about everybody. There is one family in particular that owns a lot of land and have a very wicked reputation, going back to the civil war. Rumor had it that they hosted orgies at their big house and the rumors were bolstered by the fact that there were visitors from the city over the weekends. Sometimes a dozen or more cars might be parked at their house.

“One morning one of the men of that wicked family, named Raymond Sands came into the workshop. My husband was away but I was in the office. I was surprised to see Mr. Sands, but I was intrigued. I’d never met him but of course I’d heard all the rumors.”

“What was he like?”

“Just an ordinary man,” she answered. “He was nice looking but nothing special.”

“No horns or a forked tail?”

“No, and he was dressed in work khakis and an everyday shirt. He didn’t look rich and he didn’t look evil.”

“And I don’t suppose that he threw you to the floor and ravished you either.”

“No, he was very polite and he told me that he would like to order some custom carpentry work. I was glad because we could use the money, but I was shocked when Sands told me what he wanted.”

“Which was?”

“He showed me a set of pictures of torture devices.”

“Ah,” I said. “Were they drawings or photographs?”

“Photographs from a bondage magazine,” she answered, “With naked women strapped into the things. I was so astonished that I dropped them and I wanted to throw him out of the house. I blushed and couldn’t look him in the face, but he waited until I calmed down, then put a large amount of money on the desk and told me to consider it a down payment.

“If that isn’t enough call me and I’ll bring more,” he told me.

“When I managed to meet his eyes he was smiling knowingly at me. And he looked me up and down like I was naked. I blushed. I told him that we hadn’t accepted his offer and that he would have to wait until my husband came home. He nodded and left, but he didn’t take the money.

“I wanted to throw the pictures away; in fact, I did toss them into the stove.”

I looked at her questioningly.

“It wasn’t lit,” she said sheepishly, “And I took them out later. And I looked at them.”

I knew what was coming next, but I didn’t say anything.

“I was repelled by the pictures,” Masked Lady went on. “I thought that it was evil that they would force women to do those things against their will.”

I snorted.

“Yes, I know now that the models are paid, and many of them do it because they like bondage.”

“Umm hmm.”

“I didn’t know that then,” she ignored me. “But as I looked through the pictures I realized that the models were doing it voluntarily.”

I wiggled my fingers wildly and jiggled my breasts. “I’d do it for free,” I whispered.

She giggled

“And it made you tingle just a wee bit,” I said.

“Yes, it did.”

“Do you still have the pictures?” I asked.

“Why?”

“I’m hoping that I might be one of the models.”

She shrugged. “I’ll look when I get home, anyway, when my husband came in that evening I showed him the pictures and the money. He was angry that Sands had embarrassed me, and wanted to take the money and throw it in his face.”

“It sounds like your husband was a decent man,” I commented.

“He IS a decent man,” she said, “And he’s still my husband.”

“Oh.”

“But I asked him to wait and think it over. After all, the down payment was a lot of money, and we hadn’t even given Sands a price. We could demand a lot. We talked about it for a long time and my husband finally agreed to do the work.”

“Bur I’ll give him a bid that will be so high that he’ll withdraw the offer,” he said.

“But what if he agrees?” I asked. “He’s very rich.”

“If he wants this stuff so badly it’s going to cost him,’ my husband said.

“He sat up late figuring the cost of the materials then tripled it, and he estimated the time for his labor and quadrupled his normal price. The next morning he had to leave early to get to his job site out of town so I had to call Mr. Sands. I was nervous while I dialed the number and it got worse when he came on the line. I was so nervous that I was stammering when I quoted the price. He accepted it on the spot. “It looks like I didn’t give you a large enough down payment,” he said. “I’ll drop by today and give you more.”

“Mr. Sands has a deep masculine voice that rumbled through the phone lines. I was a little frightened, but I had to admit that he was sexy. I changed into a skirt and a tight shirt.”

“How tight?” I asked.

“Not too tight,” Masked Lady answered. “I didn’t own anything that was remotely sexy, but it was the best I had. I puttered around the shop waiting for Sands to arrive, and the minute I heard his car my nipples got very hard.”

“Were you wearing a bra?” I asked.

“Oh yes, I was still very conventional then,” she said.

“Did he throw you to the floor and ravish you on the spot?” I asked.

“Not then,” she smiled. “He gave me more money and for some reason I didn’t want him to leave. So I began asking questions about the order.”

“What questions?”

“Oh anything that I could think up,” she said. “I asked him to tell me the names of the things and did he want them painted or stained, what kind of wood did he want, did he prefer brass or chrome metal fittings, leather or vinyl padding? I dug out stain samples and leather swatches and we went over them as if it really mattered.”

“What had he ordered?” I asked.

“An x cross, a set of stocks, a rack, a suspension frame, a kneeling post and a bondage horse.”

“Mmm, sounds like my kind of man,” I said. “What did he do?”

“Oh, he saw right through me,” she said. “And the look in his eyes changed.”

“Changed how?”

“He began to look at me like I was interesting, instead of a drab little farm wife.”

“Did he throw you to the floor and ravish you then?”

“No, he didn’t,” she said. “Not then.”

“Well, when did he?” I demanded.

“So far he has never thrown me to the floor,” she said, “Although he has carried me to his bed and dropped me onto it.”

“Ok, I guess that will do,” I conceded, “So long as he ravished you immediately afterwards.”

“Yes, he has,” she smiled. “But he always ties me up first.”

“Oooh, nice. Did you seduce him that first day?”

“No, and he didn’t take any liberties either, although I was getting so worked up that I almost wished that he would,” she sighed. “I was very confused and after he left I walked around so excited that I slipped my hand under my skirt and masturbated, right in the workshop.”

“You didn’t take time to go get your vibrator?”

“I didn’t own one,” she laughed. “As I said, I was very innocent.”

“I presume that you have one now?”

“Several.”

“My husband grumbled when I told him that Sands had confirmed the order,” she went on. “He still didn’t want to do the work but I reminded him that we were getting paid a great deal of money, and we needed it. He reluctantly got started and I sat in the shop and watched him work, which I often did. He didn’t want me to watch but I laughed and pretended that it meant nothing to me. The truth was that I was turned on watching those instruments take shape. I nonchalantly asked my husband what they would be used for but he refused to discuss it.”

Masked Lady went on. “He finished the X frame was first; it was pretty simple.”

I twisted my neck and looked up at the ones we were strapped to. I nodded.

“Then he worked on the others,” Masked Lady went on. “The rack and the pillory were more complicated and I hoped that he might need me to try the things on,” she said, “But I didn’t dare offer to.”

I was reminded of the time years ago with Dale when he built those fantastic restraint devices.

“I modeled for the same thing many years ago,” I told her. “I loved every minute of it.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” she asked.

“Later, after you finish your story,” I said. “How did you manage to wrangle it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I will bet you my salary for this movie that you figured out a way to try out every piece of that equipment before it left your shop,” I said.

She blushed under the hood and nodded.

“I often help paint or stain the furniture that my husband makes, and I insisted on helping with Sands’ order. He had selected a rich red cherry stain and I did a very good job. I put on four coats, sanded between coats and hand rubbed a deep wax finish. They looked like fine furniture.”

“Hand rubbed? Mmmm. I like that term, hand rubbed.” I giggled. She did too.

“I also do leather work so I made the straps and buckles.”

“And what were you thinking while you did that?” I asked.

“I was wondering about the women who would wear the straps, and what they would be experiencing.”

“Um hmm. And envying them too I’ll bet.”

“Oh yes, I began to think about being strapped into those devices, especially the cross, so one day I locked the door, closed the blinds and undressed. Then I stood against the X cross and pretended that I was buckled to it.”

“Were you entirely naked?”

“No, I kept my panties and bra on.”

“Did you tie yourself?”

“Heavens no. I wouldn’t be able to get free until my husband got home.”

“And what would be wrong with that?”

“He would have been appalled if he found me like that.”

“He wouldn’t tear his clothes off and rape you on the spot?”

“No.”

“Too bad. In that case you should have practiced getting loose.”

“Practiced? How could anyone get loose from that sort of thing?” she asked.

“Like this, watch.” I released myself from the straps holding my wrists.

Her mouth dropped open. “How did you do that?”

“Practice, I’ve been tying and untying myself since I was seventeen,” I laughed. “I’ve become quite an escape artist.”

“That’s incredible. Can you get loose from anything?”

“Just about, as long as I tie myself, but I can’t always get loose if someone else ties me up, especially if they know what they are doing, and I can’t get out of handcuffs or shackles unless I can keep a key within reach,” I looked at the wrist straps that I’d just opened. “The buckles on our straps are easy do long as I can touch them with my fingertips

“So you truly like bondage for real?” she asked. “It’s not just an acting job?”

“I truly love bondage and torture,” I told her. “The acting and modeling came much later. They mean that I get paid for doing something that I love.”

The rigger happened by and saw that I was no longer bound. “Now who let you loose?” he asked. “We’re still shooting.” He restrapped my wrists to the cross.

“That’s not very tight, Carl,” I told him. “Can’t you do better?”

I’d worked with Carl before and I always teased him that he was too gentle. He grinned and tightened the buckles another couple of notches. My pussy flashed hot.

“Ummm, thank you Carl,” I cooed. “Would you like to keep me after work? We could stay here all night.”

I have stayed after work with Carl. He is a very good rope man, and his ties are impossible to get out of and he is very good at tormenting helpless women. We have a standing bet that should I ever get free from his bondage he would give me a week’s salary. So far I’ve never collected. He chuckled and gave me a sweet caress between my legs.

“What about me?” Masked Lady asked. “I need my buckles tightened too.”

“Is that all?” he asked.

She wiggled her hips. He leaned against her body as he tightened her buckles. She rubbed her breasts against him and was rewarded with his fingers up her pussy.

The crew came back and Carl had to get out of the way. The fluffers came to us and began massaging our pussies and squeezing our nipples and getting us excited for the next round of filming. (As if we needed encouragement.) My fluffer was a sexy middle aged lesbian named Rachael who is very talented and loves her work. Rachel leaned against me. Pressing her breasts against mine and caressing my pussy while kissing me. Rachel slipped her tongue between my lips while her finger slipped between my other lips. Masked Lady didn’t like lesbian sex so her fluffer was a nice middle aged man named Gene. Gene is bi sexual and knows just about every way possible to excite and please a person, man or woman. He knelt between her feet and kissed her pussy. Gene and Rachael are massage therapists and gave us rubdowns during breaks. And Rachael even ties me to her table when I ask. (Believe me, there is nothing nearly as nice a bondage massage). She is licensed and runs a legitimate massage therapy clinic when she’s not doing movie work. She insists that there is no hanky panky at her clinic, but away from there it’s a different story, and she loves working on lesbian movies.

Carl had already gotten us started and Rachael had me ready to explode within minutes but the director told her to stop; he didn’t want me burnt out before shooting ended. Gene had worked Masked Lady to a writhing, groaning state and she whimpered in frustration when he stopped. 

The cameras rolled and the actors thrust themselves into us and the fucking began anew.

When the shooting broke for lunch Masked Lady and I were released and we went into the dressing room I took off my hood but she kept hers on. A caterer brought our food and we lounged on the daybed and continued our conversation.

“Ok, where was I?” she asked.

“You had undressed and was rubbing yourself against the cross,” I told her.

“Ah yes.”

“And you were afraid to tie yourself to it, right?”

“Yes. But I crawled around on every piece of equipment imagining that some man was doing wicked things to my body.”

“Just any man?” I asked. “Not your husband?”

“Any man except my husband. I tried to imagine that it was him but that didn’t work. He just wasn’t that sort of man. I had to have someone else in my fantasy.”

“It’s ok to be disloyal in your secret fantasies,” I told her. “You can pretend that it’s the milk man, the mailman, or the boy who mows your grass”

She looked at me curiously. I told her about teasing my lawn boy.

“Is that real or a fantasy?” she asked.

“Very real, and very dangerous,” I told her. “I can never let that boy screw me or it would be all over town in hours, but I sure wish that I could.”

“I know that feeling,” she said wryly. “What is the best thing that you’ve done?”

“Hmm, I guess it would be a toss up between being arrested and then screwed in a police station,” I mused, “Or one particularly intense over night torture orgy.” I told her about both. She was breathing hard when I finished.

“I’ve had lots of orgies,” she said. “But nothing like that.”

“What are your wildest fantasies?”

“I have a few, but they are tame compared to what you’ve done.”

“Do you have to have a logical scenario in your fantasies?” I asked.

“Yes. I had to have a reason for the man to be there.”

“What did you come up with?”

“A delivery man came by and caught me leaning against the cross. When he walked in the door I was too startled to move and he grabbed me and tore my clothes off. Then he buckled me to the cross so tightly that I couldn’t even wiggle then he raped me.”

“And after that?”

“He put me on each piece of torture equipment and screwed me on every one of them.”

“The nice thing about fantasy lovers is they don’t run out of stream,” I mused.

“I know, and when my husband got home that evening I was very excited. I wanted him to take me to bed but he was too tired. He fell asleep on the couch watching television. I was disappointed but he worked very hard and I couldn’t be angry at him so I left him there and went to bed alone.”

“Uh oh,” I said. I knew what was coming next.

“I couldn’t sleep so I got up in the night and tiptoed past my husband. I went out to the shop and this time I did strip naked. I stretched out on the rack and buckled the straps on my ankles and I reached up and wrapped the other straps around my wrists.”

“Mmmm, nice,” I said.

“Yes. It was,” she agreed. “I tugged at the straps and pretended that I was helpless. I pulled so hard that the wood creaked.”

“Did you wake up your husband?”

“No, but I almost wished that I had.”

“After that?”

“Bent myself over the spanking horse and opened my legs and fantasized that someone was taking me from behind.”

“Had you ever experienced anal sex?”

“No, and I was pretending that the fantasy man was inside my vagina. I had never experienced being entered from behind.”

“You didn’t seem to mind what they did to us this morning,” I observed. We had been screwed up our butts during the filming so I knew that she wasn’t a virgin that way, and she certainly appeared to enjoy it.

“No, I like it now,” she confessed. “That came later, thanks to Mr. Sands.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I like the fact that it is utterly degrading,” she said embarrassed, “Are you satisfied?”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, I like the sensation too.” 

“So do I, go on.”

“I went through each piece of equipment,” she said. “I knelt against the short post and crossed my wrists behind it and imagined that a man was standing in front of me.”

“A kneeling post is for only one thing,” I said.

“I know that.”

“Had you ever sucked a man’s cock?”

“No.”

“Not even your husband’s?”

“No.”

“Oh my God,” I sighed.

“I was very innocent,” she said, “But not so innocent that I didn’t know what a kneeling post is for. If a man had appeared I would have done it.”  

“Any man?”

“I was fantasizing about that same big rough man.”

“Excellent.”

“As I fantasized about sex I got more and more excited and I turned on every light in the shop and I opened the blinds.”

“Could anyone see in?” I asked.

“Not very easily,” she said. “The shop is back from the street and partially hidden by trees from the neighbor’s house.”

“Ok.”

Then I lay on the rack, opened my legs as wide as I could get them and played with myself until I had an orgasm.”

“And the lights didn’t wake your husband?”

“No.”

“Are you a screamer?” I asked. She had made plenty of noise while filming the movie. I wondered if it was genuine.

She smiled. “I wasn’t at that time, but I am now.”

“I understand. Go on please”

“I walked naked back to the house.”

“And your husband was still asleep?”

“Yes. I stood in front of him and touched myself but he didn’t wake up.”

“I’ll bet he missed out on the sexiest night of his life,” I commented.

“He sure did.”

“I’ve done that,” I told her.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve done naughty things when my husband was in the house, and he didn’t know.”

“Are you married?” she asked surprised.

“Divorced now.”

“What did you do?”

“I’ve stripped naked and tied myself up without my husband realizing what I was doing,” I said. “Sometimes he was asleep and sometimes he was awake.”

“Incredible,” she said.

I told her how I had tied myself under the blanket on the couch, and tied myself naked to a tree in the yard and watched through the window as my husband made a snack in the kitchen, how I’d tied myself in the basement while doing laundry. Masked Lady was intrigued but she was really astonished when I told how I’d hogtied myself beside him in bed.

“You actually tied yourself up while he slept beside you?” she breathed.

“And I masturbated beside him too.”

She stared off into space and I could see her mind clicking away as she planned to do that when she got home.

“Could you show me how to tie myself and be able to get loose,” she asked.

“Sure.”

After a pause she continued.

“The next morning after breakfast my husband went to the shop. I was cleaning the dishes when I remembered that I’d left my panties in the shop. My husband hadn’t noticed them lying on the floor, so I casually picked them up and used them to add another coat of stain to the wood. I ruined a perfectly good pair of panties.”

I laughed. “That’s ok, I’ve spent a small fortune replacing the ones that get torn off of me.”

“My husband worked on Sand’s furniture for a while, then left for his other job,” she smiled. “As soon as he was gone I undressed again, stark naked this time. I buckled a set of the straps on my wrists and ankles and applied another coat of stain to the torture equipment and while the stain was drying I did the laundry and cleaned house pretending that I was a servant to some strong man. I also pretended that I was tied to our bed. The next day I played with Mr. Sands’ toys all day long.”

“What else did you play with?” I asked.

“Oh, I think you can figure that out,” she smiled. “When my husband came home I told him that the order was ready to be delivered, and I told him that I’d like to go along. He demanded to know why, and I told him that I just wanted to see the inside of that big house. He told me to forget it. He wasn’t taking me anywhere near those wicked people.

“On Saturday he loaded up the truck and delivered the things to Sands. When he came home he refused to talk about what the house looked like. I didn’t bring it up again.

“I was sorry when the things were taken away, and I couldn’t get them out of my mind. Mr. Sands dropped by a few days later and paid the remainder of the bill. I was excited when he came in and I didn’t want him to leave. I asked him how everything was working out, and he laughed and said that they hadn’t been used yet, he would have to wait until his guests came down from the city. Unthinking, I said that I hoped that they would be ok and not disappoint his guests. He really laughed at that and asked if I had tested them at the shop. I blushed and shook my head. I was very embarrassed. I offered to return the pictures to him but he shook his head and told me to throw them away.

“Where do you get these pictures?” I blurted out.

“From adult book stores in the city,” he answered. “Would you like me to bring you a few the next time I go shopping?”

“Good God no!” I gasped. “He chuckled and left. I think that he saw right through me.”

“What did you do with the pictures?”

“I hid them.”

“I bet that you still have them,” I said.

She nodded. “A few days later Sands dropped by again. My husband wasn’t home and I was delighted when Sands walked into the shop. I got excited too, and he noticed.”

“He noticed your nipples get hard through your clothes?”

“Yes, and he handed me a stack of magazines.”

“Uh oh,” I said.

“She nodded. “They were bondage magazines full of pictures of naked women tied up in terribly revealing poses. Some looked painful.”

“Any hard core ones?” I asked.

“No, just women alone or being dominated by another woman, but no men,” she said. “The minute I opened the first one I was doomed.”

“Did Sands throw you to the floor and ravish you?” I laughed.

“No, he behaved like a gentleman, but I half expected him to rape me.”

“You poor thing,” I said in sympathy

“It’s funny, considering his reputation, but in all the time that I’ve my affair with Mr. Sands he has always treated me with courtesy,” she said.

“A considerate master?” I chuckled. “Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?”

She shrugged.

“I’m teasing,” I said. “Actually I have a lover who is also my master, and he is very kind to me.”

“Does he abuse you?” she said.

“Of course, but it’s what I want, so it isn’t really abuse.”

She shook her head wonderingly.

“So if Sands didn’t ravish you, what did happen?” I asked.

“He stood and watched while I went through those magazines page by page,” she said. “I forgot that he was there until I finished. He smiled at me in a knowing manner and we stared at each other for a long time. I was waiting for him to order me to take off my clothes.”

“Would you have?”

“Yes.”

“But he didn’t?”

“No, he just reminded me that I had his telephone number and walked out.”

“And?”

“I called him the next day.”

“And?”

“My husband was working across the state, and I asked Mr. Sands if he’d had a chance to test the devices. He had not and asked me if I would like to be the first. I said that I would. He invited me to the house.”

“Uh oh.”

“What did you do?”

“I got in my car and drove to his house, then I drove past and drove up and down the roads for an hour.”

“Confused and uncertain, right?”

“Correct, but I was so excited that I finally turned up the long drive way to his house. He greeted me at the door with a knowing grin and took me inside. I expected to see a lot of people in that big house but there was no one else around.

“Mr. Sands showed me into a large room and I gasped when I saw that it was a torture chamber.”

“What did you expect?” I asked her.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I was very confused.”

“Besides the things that your husband made, what else was there?”

“Chains, handcuffs, ropes neatly coiled up and arranged on hooks, paddles and whips.”

“And how did you react to all this?” I asked (as if I didn’t already know).

“I got a funny feeling down there,” she answered, pointing to her pussy.

“Funny, or nice?”

“Very nice, and hot,” she laughed.

“Go on.”

“Well, Mr. Sands asked me which device I wanted to test first, and I told him it would be the X cross. I walked over to it and stretched my arms and legs against it. He just looked at me.”

“Then what?”

“He shook his head like I was an idiot and told me to take off my clothes.” 

“Well, what did you expect?”

“I didn’t know what was going to happen,” she said. “And I didn’t know what to do, so I just stood there.”

“And?”

“He ripped my clothes off of me.”  

“Ah, nice.” I said.

“It frightened me and I tried to get away,” Masked Lady said. “But he held me like I was a child while he tore my shirt to shreds.”

“Were you wearing a bra?”

“No. Then he yanked my shorts off too.”

“Panties?” I asked, “Were you wearing any?”

“Yes, but they didn’t last long. He ripped them off too.”

“Well, at least it didn’t take very long to get you naked,” I said.

“No, I was entirely nude in a few seconds,” she said ruefully.

“And then?”

“He touched my pussy.”

“And you liked it?”

“I had an orgasm.”

“Was that before or after he tied you to the cross?”

“Before, and it happened again while he tied me.”

She took a deep breath. “He lifted my feet off the floor with his hand between my legs, and he held me with just one hand while he strapped my wrists to the cross, then he knelt and tied my ankles open, and as soon as those straps tightened against my skin I thought that I was in heaven.”

“I know the feeling,” I told her softly.

“Sands stepped back and watched while I tugged at my bonds,” she said. “I struggled and strained and got incredibly aroused, and then I met his eyes.”

“What did you see?”

“Understanding, and a kinship that I’d never felt with anyone else.”

“I know that kinship too,” I said softly. “It’s wonderful.”

“I was already open and damp,” she said, “But I wanted to be more open so I strained to get my knees further apart. Sand looked at my body, then he suddenly lunged forward onto his knees and buried his face between my legs.”

“Mmmm! Nice. Did he make you come?”

She nodded. “Instantly.”

“Three orgasms in just a few minutes,” I mused, “Very nice.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Well, a man’s tongue can be as useful as other parts of his anatomy,” I said.

“His tongue didn’t enter in to it,” she said. “It was just his face nuzzling my sweetest place. I felt his nose and his lips and the roughness of his beard and it sent me wild.”

“He doesn’t use his tongue?”

“Oh yes, and he’s very good with it,” she laughed. “He just didn’t need it that first time with me.”

“Then what happened?”

“I blacked out for a moment,” she said. “I went into a hazy feeling, and when I woke he was leaning against me and his mouth was on mine. His tongue was inside my mouth and he nibbled on my lips and nuzzled my neck and ears and I was sobbing with happiness.”

“And I bet his hands weren’t idle either.”

“No, she smiled, “They were on my breasts and between my legs. It felt like he had about six hands.”

“I love it when a man does that to me,” I said. “Did he rape you on the cross?”

“Yes, but he was gentle.”

“A gentle rape?”

“He didn’t hurt me, he just  , , ,  made sweet love to me while I was helpless.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

There was a long pause. “Yes. After a while he undid my ankles and raised my legs up and relocked them above my head. I’d never felt so open in my life.”

“I love that position,” I sighed.

“Then he slid into me.”

“Is that all he did?” I asked.

“He knelt and licked my vagina with his tongue,” she said. “And that made me have another orgasm.”

“My, my. How many in all?”

“Four or five the first day,” she answered. “He entered me again, and then used his mouth again, but this time he just teased me.

“When we finally wore down, he slumped in a chair and fell asleep. I was still strapped to the cross with my feet higher than my head.”

“Oh, how horrible,” I laughed. “How long did you have to wait?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I was in a dreamy, happy state and didn’t pay attention to the time.”

“Oh, believe me, I know how incredible that condition is.”

“He finally roused out of his chair and released me,” she said. “Then he showed me to a very luxurious bathroom and let me wash up.”

“How did you get home after he tore your clothes to shreds?”

“He loaned me a shirt. He offered a pair of shorts but I declined. I drove home naked under his shirt, and when I got close to our place I took it off and finished the drive naked.”

“Excellent.”

“I went back a few days later and he did even more wonderful things to me.”

“Such as?”

“He tickled me along the crease where my legs meet my tummy, and he did it for a long time.”

“With his tongue?”

She nodded.

“Does your husband eat your pussy?”

“Oh no, he would never touch my vagina with his tongue. He would consider that disgusting.”

“Your pussy,” I corrected her.

“What?”

“Stop saying vagina,” I said. “It’s too clinical. Pussy is a more erotic term.”

“Why not call it my cunt?” she demanded tartly.

“That’s ok if you prefer,” I agreed, “But generally that is a bit too vulgar, unless I’m in the mood to be verbally abused as well as physically tortured.”

She looked at me curiously. “Do you like having men say bad things to you?”

“Sometimes. It depends on my mood. After all, it’s a version of humiliation, and don’t you enjoy being humiliated?”

She dropped her eyes. “Yes. Sometimes the men who screw me talk that way. They stand over me and call me horrid names or describe that they are doing in disgusting term, but I confess that I like being treated that way, but I didn’t know that other women do.” 

“Honey, there is a whole world of erotic perversion that you need to explore,” I told her, “Someday I’ll tell you about a very elegant lady friend who loves to be verbally abused.”

“An elegant lady?” she asked in mild disbelief.

“Very elegant,” I affirmed. “She and her husband are cultured, refined, and move in the highest circles of Denver society, and she is into just about every form of submission possible, including humiliation and public exhibition.”

“Is that all she likes?”

“She likes pain and punishment, and group sex. And she recently discovered that she has orgasms when men hang her.”

“They hang her?” she gasped, “By the neck?”

“Yes, but she’s now considering being hung up by hooks through her breasts.”

“That’s horrible! Who would want that?”

I shrugged. “I know at least five women who wish they could do it, including me.”

Masked Lady made feeble shooing motions with her hands. I decided that I wouldn’t tell her of my own fantasies about being electrocuted on national television.

.

“Wouldn’t you like to remove that hood?” I asked.

“No, it stays on,” she said. “No one is permitted to see my face, not even my co workers.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want no one, not my husband or my parents or anyone in town to ever know about me.”

“I’m from a small town and I know how difficult it is to keep any thing secret, but I think that your identity is safe here.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, but I’m not taking any chances. I’ve gone to great lengths to keep my secret life hidden, and that means that no one with the production company has gotten a good look at my face or even knows my real name.”

“What about the pictures you sent in?”

“I was wearing a hood, just like this one.”

“Well, I use a stage name,” I said. “And there are a few people I don’t want to know about my secret life, but I’ve never seen anyone as worried about it as you are. I think that you are being a touch paranoid about this.”

“Maybe, but that’s the way it’s going to be.”

“Does your master take many pictures of you?”

“He did at first,” she said, “And I was always masked, but he doesn’t do it any more. We agreed that it would just become repetitious.”

“That makes sense.”

. 

“Where are you from?” I asked.

She just shook her head.

“Ok, sorry I asked,” I said. “But sooner or later your secret will come out. If the Sands fellow is as notorious as you say, people will talk about him and they will know about you eventually.”

“Oh, they know about me,” she said.

“What?” I was confused.

“The whole county knows that Sands has a sex slave. They just don’t know who she is.”

“How did the secret get out, did he boast about it?”

“No, he gave me to another man, who talked.”

“Really? Did you agree to that?”

“No, but I didn’t object when it happened.”

“How did it happen?”

“A few weeks into my affair I was at Sands’ house and he had strapped me to an infernal machine that made it easy for him to take me.”

“What kind of infernal machine?”

“It’s a short table that he ties me to and he can tie my legs up and open. The table can be adjusted up and down and it can be tilted.” She paused. “My husband made it.”

“Oh, you didn’t. . .?” I laughed.

She nodded. “I designed it and I took it to my husband. I told him that Sands had placed an additional order. So he built it and I stained it and he delivered it to the Sands’ house.”

“And how soon did you get to use it?”

“That very day.”

“Wow.”

“After delivering the table my husband was going to a little league baseball game. I drove the back way to Sands’ house and parked in the garage while my husband was inside. I stripped naked and peeked out the garage door. As soon as he started his truck I ran naked into the house. I was climbing on that table before he was out of the driveway. Sands strapped me to it and screwed me and I probably had an orgasm before my husband was a mile away.”

“I want one of those.”

“I’ll have my husband send you one,” she said.

“Thanks, but how did everyone come to know about you?”

“Sands had just finished screwing me,” she continued, “And a man walked in on us.”

“Oops.”

“It was a guy who does gardening for Sands,” she said. “He stopped dead in his tracks and looked very embarrassed. Sands got off of me and took the man out of the room.”

“Did the man recognize you?” I asked.

“No, I had my back to the door.”

“Lucky.”

She nodded. “When Sands came back he buckled a full hood over my head. I hadn’t worn one before and I panicked slightly when I couldn’t see, but I calmed down, and got excited because it made me feel even more helpless.”

I nodded.

Then I felt his hands touching me again, and I was ready to have sex again, but I realized that something was different. It didn’t feel like Sands.”

“Uh oh.”

She nodded. “It was the other man, and Sands was allowing him to have his way with me.”

“And he screwed you.”

“Yes.”

“Was it good?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it was degrading. He was dirty and rough and different.”

“Dirty?”

“Well, it was clean dirt, like the smell of the earth on a working man, not like some creep who never bathes.”

“Then what?”

“After the other man finished Sands thrust himself into me and he had me again while the gardener watched.”

“Are you afraid of the word ‘fuck’?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I prefer not to use it.”

“All right. How did you feel about being loaned out?”

“Angry, confused, betrayed, humiliated, excited and delighted.”

“That would be just about right,” I said.

“I was furious when Sands untied me and removed the hood. The other man was gone and I was terrified that he would tell people about me. Sands told me that the man had no idea who I was; the hood concealed my face completely. I calmed down over being recognized but I was angry that he had given me to that man without my permission. He didn’t care. He just smiled and told me that when I was in his house I became his property and he would do anything he wanted with me and he gave me to the handyman to buy his silence.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“Angry, confused, humiliated, and excited.”

“Uh, I hate to point this out, but a rape fantasy, which bondage is all about, means exactly that.”

“I know,” she confessed, “And I realized later how silly I was being, but at the time I didn’t care.”

“What did your master do?”

“He told me that I’d better get used to being his slave girl. But he did promise that he would always conceal my identity.”

“Nice of him.”

“I went home and fumed all night and the next day, but I kept remembering how helpless and degraded and sexy I’d felt.

“So you didn’t break up with him.”

“No, I went back.”

“Ah.”

“He gave me to his gardener again, several times.”

“And you learned to like it, right?”

“I loved it. Eventually he invited me to one of the parties for his out of town friends. They strapped me to different devices and took turns with me all afternoon.”

“How many were there?”

“Four the first time, different numbers after that.”

“And you always wore a mask?”

“Yes. He bought several types of hoods for me. Full head coverage and partial ones that leave my mouth exposed

“Having your mouth available does make things more interesting,” I observed. 

“Yes, it does.”

“Does your master whip you?” I asked.

“Heavens no,” she gasped. “He treats me very nicely. I wouldn’t allow him to hurt me.”

“Oh, too bad,” I said. “I like pain.”

“I am aware of that,” she said, “From your films.”

“Then you know what a whore I am,” I said.

She shrugged. “I cannot criticize anyone on that score; I just don’t like as many different things as you seem to.”

“So no whips, no paddles, no nipple clamps, no lesbian sex, no gang rapes, eh?” I chuckled.

“Well, actually gang rapes are ok,” she smiled, “As long as I’m tied down.”

“Gang sex? I’m impressed.”

“As long as I’m tied down,” she repeated. “I went to Sands’ house every chance I got. He told me to park in the big garage behind the house so no one would see my car.”

“What about your husband?”

“I got very good at finding him jobs out of town. I went to Sands’ house several times a week when he was gone.”

“Um hmm.”

“Sex was a hundred times more exciting when I was helpless,” Masked Lady told me.

I nodded. “Believe me, I know. I lost my virginity while I was tied up. I thought I was in heaven.”

“I loved being used by lots of men,” she went on. “It seemed natural for Sands to give me away. He and I seemed to be connected, he told me that we were from the same tribe.”

“That’s a good way of putting it.” I thought about MAC and I.

“Everything that they did to me was wonderful,” she sighed. “No matter how perverse or disgusting it was; I liked it.”

“How long did it take for him to tie you on your knees?” I asked.

“That happened on my second visit and I asked him to do it.”

“Why?”

“It was as if I was intoxicated with submissiveness. I wanted to be open, open, open. To go wild and let him do anything he wanted to me, so I begged to suck his penis.”

“And?”

“He tied me on my knees and I opened my mouth for him. I tried very hard to please him.”

“That’s one skill that is easy to asses,” I chuckled. “When the man spurts into your mouth you know you’re doing it right.”

“I got it right the first time, within twenty minutes,” she said proudly, “Now I get to do it at his parties.”

“How many cocks have you sucked one any one occasion?”

‘Hmm,” she thought. “There were six men, and I had each one spurt in my mouth at least once, and some more than once, so I’d guess at least ten times in one afternoon.”

“Impressive, and anal sex?”

“That also happened the second time I went to him.”

“Was it painful?”

“Yes.”

“But , , ?”

“Yes, I liked it,” she confessed.

“I thought that you didn’t like pain.”

“It was a different sort of pain, and I liked the submission more than the pain.”

“Did you ask for that too?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you must be reconciled to it,” I observed, “Considering that we’ve been screwed up our bottoms several times in this movie.”

“Sands’ guests do it to me all the time,” she said. “I like it now.”

“Have you used your new talents with your husband?” I asked.

“Yes, but he doesn’t know it,” she answered.

“What do you mean?”

 

“I wanted to see the men who fuck me,” she said, “So I experimented with putting a black spandex cover over my eyes under the hood. If we left the blindfold off I could still see through the spandex but it looked as if I could not. I found it very thrilling to watch the men’s faces while they had their way with my body.”

“Did you see anyone that you knew?”

“Oh yes,” she said. “It was incredible the number of men that Sands gave me to who were prominent men in our town.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “Preachers, politicians, the chief of police, the county sheriff and so on?”

“Pretty close, all hypocrites. Have you done that too?”

“No, I haven’t had any orgies in my home town, but I know a woman who is a slave to a prominent citizen, a banker.”

“It’s the same all over,” she said.

“Uh, was there anyone that you were close to?” I asked.

“No, not my father or my brothers,” she said. “Sands knew better than to allow that, but I was screwed by my cousin.”

“Uh oh.”

“Sands didn’t know that we were related,” she paused. “I know that it’s horrid of me, but I liked that the best.”

“Because he was close to you?”

“Yes, and because he is the black sheep of the family. He’s always been a wild child.”

“Let me guess, and in the back of your mind you’ve always been attracted to him?”

“Yes.”

“Did the forbidden fruit of incest enter into it?”

“I try not to think about that,” she said. “I’m already far too perverse.”

I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her about my mother and me.

She paused. “Right after that party I did something even more perverse.”

“What was it?”

“I cleaned up and drove to my cousin’s house.”

“My, my.”

I got there just after he arrived. I told him that I’d just dropped in on the spur of the moment. We sat on the front porch and drank lemonade. While we talked I remembered what he had been doing to me just a short time earlier.”

“Did you seduce him?” I laughed.

“No, but I thought about it, especially when I felt all that semen sliding out of my vagina and knowing that some of it was his.”

“Ooooh!”

“And yet no one knew who you were?”

“No. The stories of the bondage parties were soon county gossip,” she said. “Everyone was talking and wondering who this mystery slut was. They still are, but no one knows who she is.”

“And I will bet that you enjoy the talk, right?”

She nodded. “I’m just as bad as the rest,” she laughed. “The minute two or more women got together the subject comes up and we all just fume in indignation as to who this evil woman might be and how she is enticing our men.”

“Did the women know that their husbands were participating?”

“I doubt it,” she said. “Most women adopt the attitude that ‘thank God MY husband doesn’t go to that horrid house’.”

“But you knew which ones actually do, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she said. “And it is all I can do to keep a straight face when I run into the men in town. It’s especially fun at church.”

“Yes, I can see where that could be very interesting,” I mused.

“I can’t get over how some of the nicest, gentlest men can turn into monsters when they have me at their mercy,” she marveled, “They go insane!”

“Anybody in particular?”

“There is this pudgy little man who is old enough to be my father. When I am tied up he screws me like an animal. He raises me off the table or the bench and slams me from side to side while he’s thrusting into me. Even when I’m tied down he still moves me all over the place. It’s incredible! I’m always bruised when he gets finished with me. Once I was sore for days and could hardly walk. I told my husband that I fell down the stairs.”

“But you like it, right?”

“Oh yes.”

“Who is he?”

“He works in a shoe store. I went to school with his kids.” She paused. “His wife is an ordinary looking housewife, and I wonder what he does to her behind closed doors.”

“What about your cousin, did you have him more than once?”

“You mean, did he have me more than once?”

“Oh, come on now. Surely you know that everything is being done for your pleasure, not theirs,” I laughed. “Sands sees to that.”

“My God,” she whispered. “You are right.”

“I suggest that you hang on to him,” I said. “You’re not likely to find another master like him.”

She nodded slowly.

“Yes, My cousin has pleasured me many times. I asked Sands to invite him back.”

“Were there any other interesting clients?” I asked.

“Yes, there is another man too.”

“Oh?’

She looked at the floor for a long time, then straightened her back bravely. “My husband comes to the parties.”

“What!”

“My husband showed up one day and Sands gave me to him.”

“Wow.”

She nodded. “It was a quiet day at Sands’ house, no party. Just me and him, and he had me bent over a table and was taking me from behind when someone knocked at the door. He ignored it at first but the knocking became loud and insistent so he slipped on a robe and went out. I heard him talking to some one, and a moment later he came back and buckled me into a hood. I asked what was going on but he didn’t answer, he just locked a gag in my mouth and left again. He returned with a man and invited the man to screw me.”

“Oh my.”

“I was very excited and waited listening to the man undress, then he slid into me. By then I was used to being taken by strangers and it was very thrilling. I enjoyed what was happening and hoped that I’d get a chance to see who he was.”

“You couldn’t see him?”

“Not while he was behind me, the hood didn’t allow me to turn my head.”

“And you didn’t recognize his voice?”

“No, the hoods muffle sounds.”
       “That’s true.”

“After he spurted into me I was left where I was, and he and Sands had a beer and talked about football. I waited patiently, as if I had a choice. Then the new man walked over to me, played with my bottom and asked Sands who I was. Sands laughed and refused to tell him. ‘She might be imported from the city,’ he laughed, ‘Or she might be from right here in town. No body will ever know.”

“They joked about who I might be, then the man undid my straps and placed me face up. I thought that I would faint from shock when I looked up at my husband’s face!”

“Yeah, that would be a surprise,” I agreed.

“I panicked and tried to get away, but my husband pushed me down and buckled my legs open. Sands did my wrists and he winked at me while he did. Then he stepped back and watched while my husband got on top and slid into me.”

“Was your husband rough with you?”

“Yes, and that was part of my astonishment, because he is always so gentle at home.”

“Yes, well a lot of men let their masks slip when they have a woman at their mercy,” I said. “Believe me, I know.”

Masked Lady nodded. “He just rammed himself into me. He was brutal, to the point of cruelty.”

“And how many orgasms did you have?”

She lowered her head. “I lost count.”

“He didn’t recognize you?” I asked, after a moment.

“No, once he started to undo my hood and I screeched through the gag. Sands came in and stopped him and told him very sternly that the hood had to stay on. Sands made him step back while he put a small padlock on the collar of the hood.”

“Smart.”

“I always wear a lock now.” She tilted her head to show me the small brass lock holding her hood in place.”

“And your husband fucked you again,” I observed.

“He did, and I lay on the table looking up into his eyes the whole time,” she said. “And he never had a hint of recognition. When I have the black cloth over my eyes they are invisible.” 

“And he didn’t recognize your body? No birth marks or freckles that he would recognize?”

“No.”

“Was that sex with your husband different than usual?”

“Very different,” she said. “He was wild and rough, and slammed the table on it across the floor, with me on it. He bit my nipples and squeezed my breasts so hard that I had bruises for days.”

“He didn’t notice them at home?”

“I avoided letting him see me naked unless the lights were out.” 

“What happened after he fucked you?”

“He got dressed and went home. Sands released me and I ran to my car crying. I got dressed and drove around for a long time trying to understand what had come over my husband, and how he could fuck another woman. Finally I went home.”

“What happened when you got there?”

“My husband was cooking steaks on the barbeque. He was in a great mood.”

“How did you feel?”

“Betrayed and excited. As the evening went on I began to feel sexy, and my secret made it better. I seduced my husband when we went to bed.”

“Was it good for you?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “It was dull, like always at home.”

“Did you ask him to tie you?”

“I hinted at it but, but he didn’t take the bait, and I didn’t want to be too obvious.”

“I tried that with my ex husband but it didn’t work.”

“What happened?”

I told her about the times that I had tried to entice my husband by tying myself up, and what dismal failures they had been.

There was an awkward silence.

“Why did Sands bring your husband into your secret?” I asked after a while. “I thought you said that he was considerate.”

“He didn’t,” she answered. “My husband showed up uninvited and wanted to come in. Sands tried to refuse but my husband insisted. He said that having made the equipment ought to give him some privileges. Sands realized that if he kept refusing that my husband might get suspicious about the mystery slave, so he let him in.”

“Does your husband know now?” I asked.

“No, he still has no idea. He pretends to be scandalized and indignant about Sands’ and the slave woman, but he still visits the Sands house.”

“Still?”

“I get fucked by my husband at least once a month while I’m at Sands’ house. He comes up with excuses to get away, which saves me the trouble of finding excuses to get away, so I wait for him to leave then I drive like crazy along the back roads to get there before he does.”

“Ah, let me guess, after he fucks you into insanity you have to drive like crazy to get home and be in the kitchen all sweet and demure when he arrives, right?”

“Something like that.”

“Does he screw you at home after he screws you at Sands’ place?”

“Every time, I think the slave woman gets him so excited that he can’t wait to go to bed with his wife. He’s dragged me into the bedroom before dinner.”

“Which is better, being fucked as his slave or as his wife?”

“As the slave.”

“Oooh what complicated webs we weave . . .”

“Yes.”

“Has he ever gotten to Sands’ place before you?”

“Yes, but I can get my car into the garage and sneak into the house without being seen. I put my hood on and buckle the cuffs to my wrists and ankles, then I wait in the kitchen for Sands to bring me into the dungeon on a leash. Actually I that because I like being paraded in front of men.”

“What does your master think about all of this?”

“Oh, he thinks it’s the biggest joke in the universe, I sneak in to enslave myself while my husband sneaks in to screw me.”

“Do you suck your husband’s cock?”

“Oh, yes, and I like it when he watches me suck other men.”

“But not at home,” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Are there other females slaves at the parties?” I asked.

“Yes, Sands bring them in from the city.”

“Are they prostitutes or bondage lovers?”

“I don’t believe that they are prostitutes,” she said. “Some seem to be nice women. But I can’t imagine how he finds them.”

“Trust me, there are thousands of women who would happily enslave themselves if they could get away with it. And they are much better than hookers, who only pretend to want bondage.”

“Yes, I’m beginning to see that.”

“Has your husband fucked any of them?”

“Yes, he screws every woman who might be at the party. I’ve watched him.”

“How do you feel about that?”

She shrugged. “I already went through the shock of his betrayal, so now it doesn’t bother me, and after all, I betrayed him first, so I have no right to complain.”

“Do you enjoy watching him screw other slaves?”

“Yes, I love it, especially when they place me with other women side by side. They tie us bent over a rail and the men, including my husband, make their way along the row. I like it when he pulls his cock out of another woman then shoves it into me.”

“Wow.”

“What has been your best, or wildest experience?” I asked.

She lowered her head. “It was awful, yet incredibly thrilling. I was given to a boy.”

“What?”

“I was the plaything to a young boy,” she said. “He was fifteen at the time.”

“Holy cow. Who did that?” (Silly question; who but Sands?)

“I was enjoying a quiet afternoon as Sands’ slave when his gardener showed up,” she said.

“What do you mean by quiet?” I asked. “Were you just playing cards or something?”

“No, I mean that there were only two of us. I was naked and bound and Sands was having his way with me when the others walked in.”

“Were you hooded?”

“Of course. I always wear one since Sands never locks his door and I never know who might walk in on us.”

“Good thinking.”

“The man had his nephew with him, and Sands loaned me to him.”

“What were you doing at the time?”

“I was on my knees sucking Sands’ penis.”

“Do you mean his cock?”

“Yes.”

“Were you tied up?”

“Yes, very tightly. My legs were strapped together at my ankles and above and below my knees, and my arms were strapped at my wrists and elbows so tight that my elbows were touching.”

“What happened?”

“The boy’s eyes got huge, and his penis got hard,” she said.

“Cock,” I interjected. “His cock got hard.”

“Yes, yes,” she said. “Sands stepped back and asked the boy if he had ever seen a naked woman before.

“The boy blushed and shook his head. Sands asked him if he would like to put his cock in my mouth. The boy could barely speak. All he could do was stare at me.”

I was reminded of my lawn boy. My pussy tingled.

“Well this is a slave girl and she is here for us to have fun with,” Sands told him. “So you do what ever you want to her, just don’t harm her body.” Then he slipped into a robe and took the gardener to the kitchen for a beer.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“There was nothing I could do,” she answered. “I couldn’t move, so I waited on my knees to see what he would do.”

“Which was?”

“He stared at me for a long time. He walked slowly around me several times. His eyes were huge and I got a deep thrill knowing that I was the first naked woman that he had probably seen. His penis was large creating a huge bulge in his blue jeans. After looking me over he knelt and touched my breasts.”

“Mmmm. How did you feel about this?”

“I was shocked and disgusted that they had brought a boy into this, and I was excited beyond belief.”

I chuckled. “Then what happened?”

“He played with my breasts for a long time. He squeezed them, and plucked at my nipples and traced circles with the tips of his fingers around and around, and I was about to go out of my mind. My legs were so tightly bound that I had trouble keeping my balance. I tried to stay still but the things he did to my nipples had me writhing so much that I toppled over.”

“And?”

“He grasped the loop on my hood and lifted me back onto my knees and returned to what he was doing.”

“Did you offer any suggestions?”

“No, I was so intent at being submissive that I didn’t say a word. I just enjoyed the moment.”

“Submitting to a fifteen year old?”

“It was heavenly.”

I could only imagine.

“I watched his face and his expression was delightful,” she said. “He was in awe. He touched every inch of my body. He slid his fingers over my skin in a gentle, exploring way. He pushed my nipples against my ribs, and then tugged on them until I was forced to raise up as high as I could.  He slid them between his lips and sucked gently, and nibbled with his teeth. When he tired of that he opened my mouth and looked inside, as if he were inspecting my teeth, then he put his fingers in and touched my tongue. He caressed my lips and finally kissed me. Then he moved to my back and pressed me forward until I bowed with my forehead against the floor.

“He caressed my bottom and the backs of my legs and tickled the insides of my knees. He did that for a long time, then invaded my pussy with his fingers.”

“Mmmm,” I was squirming.

“That was very erotic,” she said, “But when his finger touched my clitoris I jerked like I’d been electrocuted.”

My fingers went hunting MY clitoris.

“He stopped for a moment and bent down and looked into my eyes. We didn’t speak, he just asked with his eyes if I was alright. I nodded and he continued to explore my pussy. He found my clitty again and explored its effect on me.”

“Did you cum?” I asked.

“Eventually, but at first he experimented with tickling my clitty and watching my reaction and when he realized that he could turn me into a whimpering, moaning mass of flesh with just a fingertip, he teased me to near insanity. He rubbed it in the perfect way until I was close to an orgasm, then he stopped.”

“The perfect way?” I asked. “Had he done that before with some girl?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she said. “I believe that I was his first. He just seemed to instinctively know what to do.”

“Wow.”

She nodded. “He watched me carefully and when my breathing was back to normal he brought me close again.”

“Males can be very cruel,” I observed. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Oh yes,” she sighed.

“He had fun tormenting me for a very long time but I wiggled my bottom and made puppy whimpers so he rubbed very hard and I came and toppled over again.”

“I want to meet that boy,” I said.

“I lay on my side panting and he sat beside me,” she continued, “watching intently. He didn’t touch me until I looked into his eyes and nodded, then he sat me upright again. I leaned against his chest and he hugged me, and when I was breathing more regularly he went on with his voyage of discovery.”

“What did he do next?”

“He tried to touch my pussy from the front, but my legs were too tightly bound, so he bent me backwards and squeezed his hand between my legs. I moaned happily and jiggled my breasts for him. He got the idea and kissed them while he tried to wiggle his hand in my crotch. I loved what he was doing to my nipples but he wanted something else so he bent me forward and got behind me. I presented my bottom again and he slid his cock inside me.”

“Inside your pussy or your ass?”

“My pussy.”

“Do go on.”

She shrugged. “He didn’t take the time to remove his clothes, he just unzipped his trousers and thrust into me. And I discovered that the feel of his zipper against by bottom is very erotic.”

“Zippers can rub your skin raw,” I told be, “Believe me, I know.”

“So do I,” she giggled. “I like the feeling, but I had red scratches on my butt for a week.”

“Have you ever gotten them on your chin?” I asked innocently.

She ignored that. “The boy screwed me until I toppled over again, but he straightened me up and went back to what he was doing, but now he held me firmly by the ring on my collar. He discovered that it was fun to shake me from side to side with that ring. He was strong and my body rolled very widely from side to side, and he never missed a beat while he was thrusting into me. His grip made the collar choke me, but I liked that too. I was entirely in his control. I felt myself getting light headed.”

I wondered if she might like to hear about hanging fantasies.

“You enjoyed being choked?” I asked archly. “That sounds a little like masochism to me.” 

She didn’t answer, and I could see a blush under her hood. I was tempted to tease her but I didn’t want her to get angry and stop talking.

“Did he cum quickly?” I thought about the stories of quick ejaculation in teen aged males.

“No, he went for a nice long time before he spurted.”

“Then what?”

“He left me where I was and plopped into a chair for a break.”

“And you just waited?”

“I just waited.”

“How long did it take him to recover?”

“Not long because he came back and did the same thing again.”

“Exactly the same?” I asked. “From behind?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“With shaking and choking?”

“Yes, only more violently, and he reached around and grabbed my breasts and used them to shake my body. I began having orgasms within minutes.”

“Mmmm, sounds painful.”

She blushed again.

“After the second time, he pulled me upright and stood in front of me. I looked up at him in pure adoration, then I opened my mouth and licked my lips. He thrust himself in.”

“Did he cum again, without the need for a rest?”

“Yes, and it didn’t take him long either. He came three times in about twenty minutes.”

My resolve not to seduce the lawn boy began to crumble.

“After the third time he pushed on my shoulder and made me fall onto my side. Then he laughed and stretched out in the chair again, crossed his ankles and rested his feet on me. I was a living footstool.

“That can make a woman feel rather wonderfully submissive,” I observed.

“Oooh yes,” she sighed.

“Then what?” I asked.

“He looked at me as I lay on the floor. I looked right back at him and never said a word. In fact, neither of us spoke during the entire session.”

“He was the strong silent type eh?”

“He was indeed,” she agreed. “He was determined too. He wanted to get at my pussy, so he rolled me onto my back and unbuckled the straps on my legs.”

“Did he free you completely?”

“He left my arms bound, and when he undid the last strap on my legs he yanked my knees open. I gasped when a teensy little orgasm hit. He crouched over me, then dropped onto my body.”

“And fucked you silly?”

“Exactly. His penis slid straight into me. There was no fumbling and positioning, it just went right inside. I had an orgasm and screamed my lungs out. That was the only sound either of us made.”

“Did that frighten him?”

“Not at all, he just grinned triumphantly and began screwing me like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“My scream brought Sands in. He stood in the doorway with his robe open and his heavy ugly penis hanging down and watched for a while, then suggested that the boy strap my ankles to my thighs. The boy didn’t understand so Sands showed him. He did one leg and the boy got the picture and did the other. Then he held my knees open and got back on.” She paused. “Then Sands picked up his camera and took several rolls of film while the boy fucked me.”

“The boy didn’t mind?”

She snorted. “He grinned at the camera.”

“I would love to see those pictures,” I told her.

“After he came that time,” she continued. “While I was lying on my back he sat between my legs and examined my pussy. He seemed fascinated with it.”

“I can’t blame him,” I said. “I am too.” She ignored that.

“He pulled me open, and gently tugged on my pubic hair, and ran his fingers in a circle around and around until I was groaning, then he put himself back inside me.”

“How many times did he fuck you?”

“Well, let me see,” she counted on her fingers. “He fucked me twice from behind, twice while on top of me and twice in my mouth.”

“How many orgasms did you have?”

And I had an orgasm each time except when he was in my mouth, so he had six and I had four.”

That did it! I was going to let my lawn boy fuck me senseless as soon as I got back to Denver. I began to plan to tie myself naked to stakes on the back yard and wait for him to find me, and he could bring all his buddies too!

“Oh, and there was one more orgasm for him,” she added. “At one point while I was bent over he placed his cock and balls in my hands. I knew that he wanted me to squeeze them, but my hands were cool and almost numb from lack of circulation. I did the best I could but my grip was weak. He must have liked it anyway because he spurted all over my fingers and my arms and my back. So make that seven times for him.”

“Wow,” I breathed in envy.

   

“What about the gardener?” I asked.

“After the last time with the boy I was sprawled on my back with my legs open, and the universe was spinning through my brain, when Sands and the gardener came back. The gardener stripped off his clothes and crawled on top of me. I was just barely aware of what he was doing. Sands and the boy watched while he screwed me right there on the floor, and Sands took more pictures. The gardener was spurting into me by the time I finally came out of that daze.”

“Then what happened?”

“Then they left.”

“What about Sands? What did he do? I got the impression that he was rather considerate of you. Why would he give you to a teenager?”

“Oh, he is considerate much of the time, but he is still a kinky monster, and sometimes he just has to do something awful.”

“Did he fuck you after they left?”

“He certainly did. I was a sloppy, soaking mess, covered in perspiration and semen, and that seemed to turn him on even more than usual.” She shrugged. “Some men seem to like it dirty.”

“So do some women,” I told her, “Including me.”

“He fucked me wildly,” she continued. ”He ground my body into the floor and gave me carpet burns, and when he came he spurted a huge amount of cum inside me and out. He pulled himself out and sprayed more fluid on my stomach. Then he straddled me and dribbled the remainder onto my breasts.”

“How long did all this go on?”

“Five hours. After Sands released me I walked naked and dripping to through his house to my car.”

“You didn’t wash up?” I asked.

“No, he offered of course, but I was in a daze. I wandered out to my car I slipped on a tee shirt  and drove home naked from the waist down. I massaged the semen into my skin as I drove and when I got home I walked to the back yard, hung the garden hose over a tree limb and lay on the grass while the cold water showered down.”

“Good thing that your husband wasn’t home.”

She nodded. “I had just dried myself and got dressed when he came home. I was scrubbing the seat of my car and told him that I’d spilled a milkshake on it.”

“A milkshake?” I shrieked.

She laughed. “It was the best that I could think up on the spur of the moment.”

“Did you ever see the boy again?”

“Two days later he rode past my house on his bicycle while I was in the front yard.”

“Uh oh.”

“Right,” she said. “I thought that he knew where I lived, but he barely glanced at me and kept on going. I ran into him later in town with his mother, and he waited impatiently while she and I chatted. I was very damp and had trouble keeping a straight face remembering how his penis looked and felt, but he had no idea who I was.”

“Has he come back to Sands’ house since then? Have you screwed him again?”

She nodded. “He likes to release me from any bonds I might be in, then he reties me into different positions. He’s grown up now, and he has become quite proficient with bondage.”

“Has his kinky experience had any effect on him?”

“You mean, did it warp his psyche or anything?”

I nodded.

“Apparently not,” she said. “Because he now has the reputation of being the randiest stud in the county and if the stories are true he has screwed practically every woman and girl for miles around.”

“Does he tie them up?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she paused then chuckled. “But I’m tempted to ask him when I see him in town. He still doesn’t recognize me.” 

“What’s your best fantasy with the boy?” I asked.

“Spending a solid week as his slave in some remote mountain cabin.”

“With or without your mask?”

“Without it.”

 

“How did you manage to get away for this trip?” I asked.

“My husband is out of state on a large construction job,” she said. “I set it up for him and I’ve got contracts waiting for him all over the country.”

“Doesn’t he call you from the job?” I asked.

“He will call when he arrives, then maybe once more when the job is almost over. He won’t be back for a couple of weeks and I can do this movie and be home in four days.”

‘Boy, if our men only knew what we women were capable of,’ I thought.

“Hmm, does that mean that you will be coming here for more movies?” I asked.

“I might.”

“Why not write a script where you, wait make that WE, are given to a bunch of young men?”

“Young men, or boys?” she asked.

“Young men, who are at least eighteen, otherwise we get into child pornography, and I won’t do that. Neither would the producers.”

“Ah, yes I see.”

“But I’m sure that they could find a few youthful looking actors who would do just fine.”

“Should you and I do their auditions?” she laughed. 

“What about punishment?” I asked. “Do any of the men get rough with you? Other than choking and shaking you? Do they whip you or anything like that?”

“No. Some have tried but Sands won’t permit it. Some of them screw me very violently, but I like that,” she said. “I’ve been bruised and had scrapes on my skin from the rack or the table, but no whips.”

“Too bad,” I said. “You should try a little torture just once. You might like it.”

She just shook her head. (I tactfully didn’t remind her that she had enjoyed getting scratched by a zipper, which I would consider a mild form of masochism. Perhaps later I can talk her into something a bit more intense.)

“What about sex with women?” I asked. “Do you ever do that?”

“No.”

“Has Sands ever given you to a woman dominatrix, or tied you with another slave?”

“He wants to but I told him that it would be end if he ever did something like that.”

“Haven’t you even thought about sex with a woman, deep in your deepest, darkest hidden fantasies?”

“Never.”

“What, never?”

“Never ever,” she said firmly.

“Too bad,” I said. “You are missing a whole different dimension of sex.”

“Never,” she repeated.

“Well, I would be very happy to introduce you to it,” I offered. “All you have to do is lie back and enjoy.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “I think that the script calls for us to be tied together while the men watch.”

“Yes. The producer demanded that a lesbian scene be included. The script calls for we ‘sisters’ to be at a party which gets out of control and we are tied us to a bed and forced to do lesbian stuff while the men watch. But I won’t be in that scene; there will be a stand in actress for me.”

I picked up the script. “Yep, you’re right about the mouth to pussy scene. It’s scheduled for tomorrow. I’ve done lots of those and believe me, being tied to another woman while the men watch is a terrific turn on. Are you sure you want a stand in? You just don’t know what you’re missing.”

“I’ll live,” she said.

“There is also a scene where we are going to be tied side by side to kneeling posts and suck about twenty cocks. Are you using a substitute for that too?”

“Twenty?” she asked. “We don’t have that many actors.”

“I’ve done this before. You can expect some of the crew to undress and get into the act, or should I say, our mouths. They just won’t have their faces show on camera.” 

“Really?” her nipples perked up. “I think that I’ll do that scene myself.”

At the end of the day Masked Lady waited while I showered, then she locked herself in the dressing room cleaned up. She emerged wearing a large floppy hat, a scarf high on her neck and enormous dark glasses. All we could see was her nose. She refused our invitation to go to dinner with the crew and disappeared in a rented car. She showed up the next morning just as covered and locked herself into the dressing room. I waited outside until she emerged stark naked save for the slave hood. Then I got undressed and put on my hood.

We filmed the rest of the movie and sure enough, a stand in actress showed up to do the scene where she and I were strapped together with out mouths on each other’s pussy. It took three delicious takes before the director was satisfied (I’d bribed him to do that and to make Masked Lady watch) then she went on her way and Masked Lady finished the film. I’d hoped that watching me with the other girl might change her mind about lesbian sex but it didn’t.

The final scene was the one with us tied kneeling and sucking the cocks of all the actors. This took a long time because the director wanted camera angles changed often, otherwise it just got to be repetitious. During the first break Carl came to release us but we both told him to leave us bound.

“Don’t you want to take a break?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine,” I said.

Masked Lady shook her head. Then we recounted some more of our bondage adventures. When the director broke for lunch we didn’t want to be untied then either but he insisted.

“You’ve been tied up since seven this morning,” he said. “You have to get up and walk around, you know, stretch out the kinks.”

“I’m quite happy with my kinks, thanks,” I said. Masked Lady giggled and shook her head. He shrugged and walked away. When lunch arrived he had the fluffers feed us while we were still bound to the posts. (By the way, its very difficult to concentrate on eating when the person feeding you has one hand on your fork and the other between your legs. I have no idea what I ate that day.)

We spent the entire afternoon tied to the posts and between takes anyone who walked by grabbed a breast or tweaked a nipple. My fluffer complained that the crew was taking away her job. The director just laughed and told her to be quiet or he would have her tied beside us. Knowing her, if this had been an all female crew she would have tied herself to the post.

Late in the day, after we finished the mass cock sucking scene they shut down the cameras. Masked Lady turned to me and started to say something when she stopped in mid word. 

The crew was getting undressed and Masked Lady’s surprised reaction told me that she’d never done a porn film before. But when everyone began lining up in front of us she went along without a murmur and we sucked the film crew, electricians, the rigger, the director, producer, the male fluffer (and I got the lesbian) and the security guards. All together including the actors, between the two of us we took care of twenty eight men and one woman. My jaws were tired when we finished, my knees were sore, my hands were numb from the ropes, and we were soaked with cum, and I felt heavenly. When we were released Masked Lady was in the same shape so we helped each other into the dressing room. I gave her a big hug, but she tensed up and I didn’t get the sexual response I hoped for. I pretended it was just a friendship hug and jumped into the shower. She waited with her hood on until I was dressed then did the same vanishing act. She skipped the post production party, which was tame compared to the last two hours in the studio, and drove away. After the party broke up I went home with the director so that he could collect his bribe. (I had offered myself to be his slave for the night.) I tried to get him to tell me who Masked Lady was but he swore that he didn’t know. Apparently only the producer and the accountant knew her identity and they wouldn’t talk.

When the film was released several months later I received a dozen copies from the producer (along with an invitation to come to LA and be his permanent personal sex slave. I turned him down but he calls about once a month begging me to come live with him) and showed them to my friends. The videos also contained a few out takes and bloopers and a charming addition was of us talking between takes while tied to the kneeling posts, recounting our experiences unknowingly on an open mike. A few times we were filmed standing side by side, and we really could not be told apart. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but our bodies were very similar and in our hoods no one could tell me from Masked Lady. Denise suggested that I was the only actress and they dubbed my body in to make me look like two women. I laughed at that and told her that in that case I should have been paid double my salary, but honestly, the only time that I was sure that I was watching myself was the lesbian scene.

They all agreed that Masked Lady’s ability to secretly screw so many men in her town and still keep her identity concealed was remarkable, and a real turn on.

I also showed the movie to my mother, and sat with her while she watched it. She made only one comment, and that was to remark on the lack of torture. I asked what she thought of the pussy to pussy scene and she shrugged and said that it was nicely erotic. She laughed when I told her about Masked Lady’s secret life and she commented that many women keep many secrets.

 

I had an idea and I called the producer. I asked him to pass a suggestion on to Masked Lady. I could travel to her town and take part in one of the bondage parties beside her, and during the orgy arrange to have my hood come off as if by accident. Then to spend the next day or two walking around town being noticed and getting talked about. That ought to really confuse the locals. He called me back and told me that she liked the idea but wasn’t quite ready to carry it out yet.