Bound: An Erotic Short Story
Alicia was heading to Rich's house. She and Marie had moved in with their boss and lover, although they'd so far managed to keep the arrangement secret from everyone else at the office. The top of her Mustang convertible was open, letting in the cool evening air. She had the radio turned up loud, and was singing along with the latest pop diva at the top of her lungs, much to the amusement of the passengers in surrounding cars.
She'd been out doing a little shopping after work, and was on the last leg of the drive home. She was in a great mood, as she had been almost without a break since she, Marie, and Rich had taken a mutual interest in one another. It had already been a few weeks, she marveled as she sang out the next verse of the song. She wasn't just enjoying herself, but was truly happy.
For some reason their three personalities just clicked, and the hot sex was just icing on the cake. She didn't know where they would all wind up (remembering the old saw that two is company, and three is a crowd), but she was going to enjoy every minute of the good times. Her life had been pretty much of a bummer until then, and she wasn't going to worry about tomorrow: there was too much to enjoy today.
She turned down Rich's street, then frowned as she pulled into the driveway. The two other cars, Rich's Corvette and Marie's minivan, were gone. They hadn't said that they were going anywhere, she thought. Maybe they went to get some dinner to bring back. She smiled and started singing again.
After parking the Mustang and putting the top back up, Alicia grabbed her shopping bags--some new, really sexy clothes to wear to work--out of the back seat, then got out of the car. Closing the door, she walked up to the front door of the house, humming the tune that was now stuck in her head.
The door was ajar. She frowned, a prickle of fear suddenly running up her spine. There weren't any lights on. Gingerly pushing the door open, she stepped inside, reaching for the light switch. She flipped it. Nothing. The power must have been off. She glanced at the alarm panel (Rich had every techno-gizmo and doodad a person could think of, the alarm system being one of them), and saw that it was off. She'd never seen that before, and when Rich had explained how it worked to her and Marie, he had made it clear that the alarm was always on, even if it was disarmed or the power was out.
"Rich? Marie? Hey, guys, I'm home..." There was no answer.
She set down her bags and stepped toward the dining room, which was as big as the living room in her apartment and contained a beautiful mahogany table and matching chairs. She reached for the light switch, flicked it on. Again, nothing. The house was totally dark and ominously quiet.
"Rich!" She shouted, her voice quavering. "Where are you? This isn't funny anymore!"
Without warning, the front door boomed shut, and Alicia cried out as she was cast into complete darkness. All she could see was the trickle of light that came in through the blinds drawn over the dining room windows.
"Don't move." The voice, a low hiss, was directly behind her. She heard a metallic click and then felt cold metal press against the back of her neck: a gun.
"Rich?" Her voice quivered with fear.
"Shut the fuck up." A hand grabbed her hair and roughly propelled her into the kitchen.
"Wait!" She cried, "please don't..."
"I said shut up, bitch!" He pulled her hair hard enough to really hurt.
"Okay! Okay, please..." Her assailant threw her against the kitchen table, a heavy wrought iron antique with a ceramic mosaic surface that had been left to Rich by his grandmother. Alicia had thought it was beautiful, but now it felt cold and menacing against her skin. The hand holding her hair shoved her head down until her face was against the table top, her hips pressed against the table's edge.
"Don't move." The man punctuated the command with a shove of the muzzle of the gun against her back.
"Okay." She was trembling. "Just don't hurt me. Please."
She heard a clink of metal, then felt handcuffs binding one of her ankles, then the other, to the table legs. Then her assailant did the same to her wrists: she was bound, face down, on the table, with her legs spread wide, feet on the floor.
"Look," she said, "you don't have to..."
She didn't get a chance to say anything more as the man--she noticed he was wearing a cologne she didn't recognize--shoved a gag in her mouth, then tied it around the back of her neck. She whimpered into the gag. The only thing she could see was the living room, seemingly miles away. She could see the couch where she, Rich, and Marie frequently made love. Tears clouded her eyes.
Then she felt something cold and metallic at her neck, and her body tensed. She shivered as it traced a line down her back. She knew then that it was a knife, cutting her blouse, her bra, and pausing only momentarily before continuing down her lower back to the waist of her skirt. Then the cold metal blade followed the crack of her ass, hissing as it cut through the fabric of her skirt from waist to hem. Her assailant's intent was obvious now, although she knew early on what was probably going to happen.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force back the tears, as her clothing was roughly ripped away. Then she felt the tip of the knife again as it made short work of her thong. All she had left was her hose, which were held up by a garter belt the way Rich liked, and her heels. She shivered against the cold ceramic of the table top, and her exposed ass and pussy felt all too vulnerable.
She expected the rape to be quick and rough, and was anticipating the worst. But for a few moments nothing happened. Her assailant simply stood still behind her, as if he were looking her over, surveying her body. She wondered if that was good or bad. He probably thinks I'm a dog, she thought.
She knew that she was an attractive woman by anybody's standards, but she also had a self-image problem. Idiot. Her she was, handcuffed to this big table, some madman staring at her ass and cunt, and she was worried about whether she looked good!
She felt something touching the back of her neck, and she shivered. It felt like...like a feather. No, she thought, as it traced a slow path down her spine, swirling over her shoulders, then heading toward her waist, sending shivers of unexpected pleasure through her. It felt more like...the petals of a flower. And then she smelled it: a rose. What the Hell?
The rose caressed her skin, slowly working its way down across the small of her back, her left buttock, then her right. It continued onward, swirling, delighting, down her right leg, tickling her knee, then stroking her calf before it moved over to her left ankle. Then it began to work its way upward again.
Despite her fears, her body was relaxing. More than that, it was becoming aroused. She felt her nipples grow harder against the cool ceramic tabletop, and a sense of warmth start to flow through the core of her body. Her legs, which had been trembling with fear, began to unclench. As the rose slowly twirled its way back up her left leg, she felt the first stirrings of arousal.
She shook her head, chastising herself for being a fool, but it didn't really surprise her. She had been a sexual rebel since her late teens, after living through a repressive childhood, and what she was experiencing now wasn't any kinkier than other things she'd done. Who knows? she asked herself. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.
Smack! The slap on her right buttock startled her, and she let out a muffled yelp of surprise through the gag. The slap wasn't really hard enough to cause serious pain, but it was more than enough to grab her attention.
Smack! He hit her again, a bit harder, but on the other buttock this time. She suddenly worried that maybe the reality of her situation was not what she had begun to hope. Then there was another odd moment of no sensation, of her captor standing there, watching her. Her body was trembling, but this time it was a complex mixture of fear, anticipation, and growing desire.
The rose returned. This time it graced her cheeks, then her shoulders and arms. It disappeared momentarily, then she felt it again, now slowly--very slowly--moving down her spine in the small of her back. This time it didn't deviate from its course to stroke her legs. It continued straight down, gently stroking the crack of her ass before caressing her pussy. It danced and twirled around slowly over her cunt, dallying for a moment in the triangle of neatly shaved pubic hair that pointed to her pussy like an arrow.
Unable to help herself, she moaned with pleasure and instinctively tried to spread her legs, which were already spread well apart, even wider. The rose continued to tease her pussy in a sensuous dance that was quickly driving her crazy, and she felt a rush of moist heat between her legs. The rose left her pussy for a moment and danced against the insides of her thighs, which had always been very sensitive to tender kisses, and she found herself grinding her hips against the edge of the table, trying to move her cunt closer to the teasing flower.
But the rose would not be denied its own pleasure, and it continued to tease her thighs for a few more agonizing moments. By now Alicia's cunt was thoroughly wet, her breathing was coming faster: the flower was driving her crazy. At last, returned to her cunt, and Alicia moaned loudly as it stroked back and forth the full length of her pussy. It didn't press hard against her body, only caressed it, but it felt like passion's own flame as it swept across her engorged clit.
She began to move her hips, trying to hump the rose as it pleased her, sweeping across her soaking cunt to twirl maddeningly over her anus for a moment before returning to her pussy. Her body was shaking with need, but the rose couldn't--or wouldn't--quite satisfy her. The man who wielded it was adept at torturing his victims, she could see, keeping them just at the threshold of orgasm indefinitely, without letting them cross over into that blessed release.
Please, she moaned into the gag, hoping he would understand and take pity. Please do something...make me come. I can't stand this any longer! Without warning, the rose withdrew, and Alicia whimpered in frustration. Her body was a drawn bow, but the archer refused to let her arrow fly.
She began to writhe on the table, but there was nothing she could do: she was totally helpless, at the mercy of her captor. Then she felt a new sensation: something rubbing in between her legs against her quivering pussy. Hard, but with a warm soft texture, she immediately recognized that it was a cock. I don't care anymore, she berated herself, I just want to come.
I can't stand this! She desperately tried to shift her hips to capture the probing shaft with her cunt, but her captor was not ready yet.
Smack! Another blow to her buttocks, and she cried out against the gag, not so much in pain as in frustration. She felt the long hardness between her legs slowly move back and forth, teasing her, lubricating itself with her juices. She didn't think it was long as Rich's eight inches, but was perhaps bigger around. It was hard for her to tell. All she knew now was that she wanted it inside of her, hard and fast.
She held herself still, not so much in fear of another blow to her buttocks, but because it might delay what she wanted, what she needed. Unlike the rose, the cock did not tease her overlong: it slid forward and back between her legs, and then suddenly it slipped into her cunt. Slowly, inch by precious inch, it filled the emptiness inside her and she groaned.
Abandoning any fear of a slap against her rump, she used all the slack she could gather from the handcuffs and surged backward, forcing her captor's cock deep, deep and hard into her cunt. That was all it took, she discovered to her amazement, to bring her to climax: the rose had done its job well in preparing her.
She cried out against the gag, her body writhing on the table and straining against the cuffs that bound her limbs as the orgasm took her. Her cunt squeezed around her assailant's cock, which made it feel like he was filling her up even more. In the fog of coming, she felt a pair of strong hands on her hips, and the cock inside her began to thrust deep, then pull almost all the way out, before plunging inward again.
The head of the man's penis rubbed in just the right way against the most sensitive spot in her vagina, and her orgasm rose toward an even higher crest. It ebbed and flowed with each thrust, and she found herself screaming wordlessly into the gag as her body exploded with heat. Without warning, her captor pulled his cock out in the middle of yet another orgasmic peak, and she shuddered as her cunt was emptied.
But her eyes widened with surprise as she felt pressure against her anus, and before she knew it she felt the man's cock, already very well lubricated with the slick fluid from her cunt, forcing its way into her ass.
Oh, my God, was her only thought as that big cock pushed its way into her asshole, filling her in a way that she hadn't felt in a long time. She hadn't had anal sex with Rich (yet, at least), although she'd certainly had--and enjoyed--it with other men in the past. But this, with a cock this size, was something else entirely!
She willed her body to relax as the man's cock began moving slowly in and out. Just like it had in her vagina, it slowly thrust deep, so far she could feel the man's pubic hair flatten against her buttocks, then slowly pull out until only the tip remained inside her. Alicia had never had trouble reaching orgasm with just about any method of stimulation, and she was absolutely certain that this would be no exception.
The man continued his slow thrusts for a moment, and then--as if sensing that the muscles that had been clenching around her anus were now relaxing--he began to pick up his pace. She could hear him breathing now, hard, as his hands gripped her hips, helping to give him leverage to thrust himself into her. Once he achieved a steady rhythm, she began to match him, shoving her ass toward him in short, sharp movements timed to his own.
She was suddenly thankful that she was in the position she was, because she found that it allowed her to focus totally on the sensations flaring inside her body, rather than worrying about position or fatigue. She could remain this way indefinitely while this man, or an army of them, fucked her.
Her body was still taught, under tension, not having quite fallen off the orgasmic curve. With every thrust she felt it building, and she just wished she could reach down with one hand to rub her clit. But after another moment, she realized that that would've been superfluous: the pressure inside her, the heat, was beginning to soar. The muscles of her thighs and abdomen trembled, with the feeling of little pricks of electricity sparking deep in her cunt.
The man's tempo peaked, his deep thrusting becoming urgent, desperate. Alicia sensed more than felt his cock swelling, and could imagine his balls starting to contract as they prepared to send his come into her ass. The thought sent her over the edge, and she screamed into the gag as she came again. The muscles of her lower body and anus contracted, and she heard the man cry out. With one last shove of his cock into her ass that rammed her hips against the edge of the table, he came.
Through the fog of her own ecstasy, Alicia could feel his cock pulsing, and sensed the warm jets of come shooting inside her. The sensation triggered another orgasm, and she clamped down on the man's cock with all her might, as if to squeeze every last drop of come from his cock.
He groaned and held himself against her, his body trembling as his cock spurted the last streams of his milk inside her. He held on for a while, until the aftershocks of his orgasm--periodic mini-thrusts and small spurts of come--tapered off. Then, slowly, he withdrew his cock from her.
As it departed, even now losing its rigidity, Alicia regretted the emptiness inside her. Her own orgasms over, she lay on the table, sated, the torture begun with the rose now over. She wondered what was to happen next. She heard the man wiping himself off, then surprised she felt him do the same for her. Then came the sound of his pants being zipped up. Last, but certainly not least, she saw his hand appear in her peripheral vision: in it was held the key to the handcuffs.
He set it down on the table in front of her. She heard the front door open, then close. And he was gone. It wasn't long after that when Marie arrived home.
"My God, Alicia!" She ran to her friend and lover as soon as she saw her from the entryway, the lights and alarm now working again. "What happened to you, girl?" She quickly found the key and unlocked the cuffs holding Alicia to the table, then helped her remove the gag. Marie helped Alicia to the couch, where she collapsed.
Letting Marie hold her, Alicia said, "You'll never believe it." She was about halfway through the story when Rich arrived with dinner. He came into the foyer and stopped as both women, Alicia now wearing one of Marie's robes, eyed him speculatively.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Where have you been?" Alicia demanded as she got up from the couch and crossed over to where Rich was standing.
Rich shrugged, "I was just over at the computer store for a while, then I stopped to get Chinese for dinner."
He looked from her to Marie, then back again, "What happened?"
"Nothing, really," Alicia said as she hugged him tight. "We're just glad your home."
She kissed him, then buried her face in his neck. Then, after nuzzling him a moment, she whispered in his ear, "That was incredible, Rich. But you gave yourself away with this new cologne you're wearing. The guy who fucked me up the ass was wearing the same thing."
She nipped at his earlobe. "Your turn's coming soon, lover boy."
He tried hard to look innocent as she pulled away and gave him a wicked smile. Taking dinner from him, she turned and headed toward the kitchen, humming the same pop tune as before. She took Marie by the hand as she went, leaving Rich in the foyer, a crooked smile on his face. The girls had some serious planning to do.
Copyright 2011 by Imperial Guard Publishing, LLC