Bound for the Tour

by Commander James Bondage

  After a half-hour, Traynor found his erect organ demanding immediate attention. He opened the mouth-zipper in the hood and dug the wad of foam rubber out of her gaping mouth. He turned a handle on the frame, raising it until Emily’s mouth was at the height of his waist.

  “You won’t mind taking care of me while you’re hanging around here, will you Thayer?” he asked. He untied the belt of his robe, letting it flap open, took his turgid organ in hand, and slid it into Emily’s wide open mouth. She had no choice but to accept it, even when it reached the back of her mouth and began to wedge itself down her throat.

  As he entered her, Traynor raised the little whip and lashed the girl’s sex again. The vibration of her scream of pain on his cock was delightful. He liked it so much that he plied the whip on Emily’s pussy at the end of each down stroke when it was jammed in at its extremity. Emily made little gurgling noises as the assault proceeded. She had quickly mastered the art of breathing only through her nose, as Traynor could clearly see as he watched her carefully to ensure that he was not causing her a major problem with drawing in enough air. Even so, with the shocks she suffered as the whip struck her repeatedly and Traynor’s over-enthusiastic thrusting, she was dazed and hardly aware of what was happening by the time he finished.

  He lowered her from the frame to place her in another device. Here, she was strapped into a metal structure consisting of four triangles join to form a pyramid, or, technically, a tetrahedron. She was kneeling, with her knees bound to the corners of the device at the base, her arms drawn back and attached to the tetrahedron, along with her ankles, at the rear angle behind her back. Her head was kept in place by a loop of rope around her slender neck, forcing her head against the cold metal. This position was possibly even more uncomfortable than the previous one, as her shoulders and elbows were stretched horribly. The only definite improvements in her condition were the removal of the latex hood and the ring gag. Traynor had blindfolded her, however, so that she was still effectively sightless. She waited fearfully in the darkness for the next round of torment.

  She heard the door open and Shelly’s high, sweet voice greeting the Master. After that, she could not tell exactly what was happening, but she was familiar enough with Shelly to recognize her low moans of arousal.

  “Are you ready, Shelly-girl?” she heard Traynor ask. “Are you hot for a fuck?”

  “Yes, Master,” she heard Shelly gasp. “Please fuck me.”

  “Before we do that, I think you should say hello to your friend here. I think Thayer needs a little loving right now, don’t you, Thayer?” he asked.

  “Yes, yes sir,” Emily answered. All she really wanted was for this night to be over, but she was doing her best to supply the answers he wanted.

  “Now go over to her and start playing with her tits. Look how she’s holding them out for your attention,” he continued.

  It was true that Emily’s breasts were thrust out dramatically from her body. However, it was not because she was seeking attention for that part of her body; it was simply that the way she was tied she could not help but display her creamy mounds so outrageously.

  She felt Shelly’s presence in front of her, and then smooth hands moving over her resilient breasts, cupping and stroking them, pinching and teasing the nipples, which came erect almost at once from the familiar, gentle touch.

  “Poor Emily,” she heard the other girl murmur. “Has the Master hurt you very badly?”

  “Ohh, Shelly,” Emily moaned as gentle lips fastened on her responsive nipples, now grown tall in arousal.

  “Raise your ass, but don’t stop exciting that slut,” Traynor said.

  Obediently, Shelly’s lips moved up to Emily’s neck then down to her belly button and back to her nipples. At the same time, Emily felt loving fingers enter her, toying with her intimately until her body burned with her need. She heard Shelly making soft, rhythmic grunts as she caressed her, and guessed that Traynor was taking her from behind.

  Suddenly, the blindfold was pulled away. Traynor was kneeling behind Shelly, holding the Native American girl by the hips and thrusting powerfully in and out. Shelly was on her knees, her face buried in the valley between Emily’s breasts, her hand cupping her sex, fingers working inside, driving the blonde to distraction.

  “You look like you’re about to blow, Thayer. Are you?” he asked.

  Emily wanted to lie, to tell him that she was nowhere near an orgasm. She knew that he would only use the information to torment her, and she needed to come so badly.

  “No… ahh! Yes… I’ll come in a second. Please let me, Master,” Emily babbled.

  Traynor yanked Shelly’s hair, pulling her away from Emily. “Get down on all fours and fuck me, Littlehawk!” he demanded.

  “No, don’t stop!” Emily pleaded to no avail. Shelly set herself firmly on hands and knees, arched her back and began to furiously pump her hips to match the motions of Traynor’s.

  “Master, fuck me harder!” she shrieked. She came, making an inarticulate howl of pleasure. A few moments later, Traynor clutched her hair in his fist and pulling the girl back onto him as if she was a cotton doll, shuddered in climax.

  Emily struggled and wept in her need. “Oh please, won’t you just touch me?” she wailed.

  This set the pattern for the remainder of the evening’s activities. Traynor repeatedly ordered Shelly to bring Emily to the edge and then leave her there while he penetrated the compliant Shelly front and rear, and took her over the top three more times. The only variation was a short break while Traynor lashed Emily’s breasts with the thin leather whip he had previously used on her sex.

  Even Traynor’s lust had its limits. Exhaustion finally made him call it quits at 2 a.m. Before she returned to her room, Shelly knelt down next to Emily to whisper in her ear.

  “I understand how it turns you on, now. You’re so beautiful, Emily, all tied up and helpless.” She kissed her and rose.

  Chapter Seven: The Champion

  One morning after breakfast, Traynor said, “We’re going to change the schedule today. I have a guest I think you’ll want to meet.”

  They walked down a corridor to stop in front of one of the many spare bedrooms of Traynor’s rambling mansion. “She came in late last night when you were both asleep,” he explained. He knocked on the door. “You have visitors,” he said.

  “Please come in,” Emily heard a female voice with a slight accent say.

  Traynor swung the door open and ushered his pupils into the room. Seated in a swivel office chair was a pretty, slender woman in her mid-thirties. She had short, dirty-blonde hair, and a pleasant, friendly expression on her face. Emily and Shelly both recognized the woman instantly. This was not surprising, as she was probably the most famous woman golfer alive.

  “Carole Duvet!” Emily and Shelly chorused. “I can’t believe it!” Emily exclaimed.

  Carole Duvet was the greatest woman golf champion in a generation. She came from France, a country with virtually no golfing tradition, and she had dominated the U.S. circuit for fifteen years. She had retired a year before, after a career in which she had won eighteen majors and dozens of lesser tournaments, and had been named the Women’s Professional Golf Tour’s Player of the year seven times.

  “Were you one of his students?” Shelly asked, hardly believing it.

  Carole smiled and nodded. “I was,” she answered in a soft voice. “For a short time.”

  “Show them the rings I gave you, Carole,” Traynor said.

  “Of course,” she said. She pulled her golf shirt over her head. She was bare underneath. Her breasts were quite small but well formed, the approximate size and shape of navel oranges. Emily and Shelly leaned closer to look. They gasped when they saw her dark, thick nipples had been pierced by a pair of tiny golden rings.

  “It’s an interesting story how she came under my instruction,” Traynor said. “Perhaps you’d like to hear it.” Without waiting for a reply, he went on, “Tell them about the day we met, C
arole,” he said.

  Emily and Shelly perched on the bed as Carole began. “It was five years ago, no six now. You may remember that terrible season I had…”

  * * * * *

  Carole sat in an uncomfortably hard chair, trying not to squirm under the searching gaze of Roderick Traynor.

  “If you know anything about me, you must have heard that I do not choose to offer my services to veteran professionals like you,” he was saying. “I find that they are not amenable to my particular methods. That’s why I have trained only young players who have not yet realized their potential for many years.”

  “And yet you answered my letter and invited me here for an interview,” Carole pointed out.

  He smoothed back his thinning hair. “True enough. Well, I must admit that I was a little curious as to why the world’s top professional female golfer would seek me out, when any golf instructor in the world would give his left nut to sign you on,” he said. “Why do you need a swing coach anyway? I thought the reason you weren’t playing was because you have a bad back.”

  “Mr. Traynor, let me get to the straight to the point,” she said. “My problem is that my swing is gone. Vanished completely. I was in an automobile accident last winter, and although the doctors say there is nothing physically wrong with me, since the accident I have lost my golf swing. There is nothing wrong with my back. That is simply a story I have put about to cover my lack of activity on the Tour.

  “I have consulted with several the top instructors, discreetly, of course, and not one of them has been able to help me. You were suggested by one of your former student as my only possible alternative. So that is why I wrote asking for this meeting,” she said.

  “An interesting problem, I must admit, Ms. Duvet,” he said, rubbing his chin. “But I wonder if you know about my peculiar requirements…”

  “I know all about the unusual sexual demands you make on the girls that you instruct, and I am prepared to do what you require,” she said tonelessly, her face blank.

  Traynor eyed the slim figure before him with newly heightened interest. “I find that a little difficult to believe. It’s pretty well known that you are a confirmed Lesbian.”

  “My sexual preferences are irrelevant,” she said firmly. “This is about my career, my life.” She rose from the chair and began to unbutton her plain white blouse. She removed it, folded it neatly and laid it on the chair. Underneath she was nude, her small, tight breasts requiring no support. Traynor watched in silence as the slender little woman stripped off her clothes, until she stood naked, her arms at her sides, waiting.

  “Put your hands on your head and turn around slowly for me,” he ordered.

  Wordlessly, she turned in place for him, displaying a lithe, athletic body. With her short mop of hair and her charming tomboyish looks, he found her strangely attractive. He rose from his seat and walked around the desk to stand over her. He wondered how badly she wanted his help.

  “On your knees,” he said. He unzipped his pants, and removed his cock, which was rising before their eyes. “Did you ever take a man in your mouth?” he asked.

  She looked up at him from her knees, making no attempt to cover her nudity, hands still on her head. “No. I have never even touched a penis.” Although her voice was steady and calm, the expression on her face revealed the revulsion she felt at the idea.

  “This will be your first time then,” Traynor said. He moved closer to the kneeling woman until his fleshy pole rested on her cheek. “Open wide, now,” he said, taking himself in hand and directing his substantial erection at Carole’s open mouth.

  “You have to suck on it, and stroke it with your tongue,” he told her as he held the back of her head and slid his rod into her unresisting mouth. “It isn’t a blowjob if you just sit there and let me pump your skull. You need to apply some technique to make it exciting.”

  Carole gamely followed his instructions in the art of oral sex. She made no attempt to pull away, even when he shoved his way to the back of her throat, making her gag. She did not move from her submissive position, although her abhorrence showed clearly in her expression.

  “You really want to do this,” he said, sounding a little surprised.

  “Yes,” Carole said. Remaining in place, she looked up at him. “Will you help me, Mr. Traynor?”

  He stared at her for a long moment, and then he shrugged. He opened a drawer in his desk, pulled out a towel and tossed it to her. “Wipe your face off and sit down. I will have to prepare a few papers for you to sign.”

  * * * * *

  “I got her straightened out in just three months, but then Ms. Duvet is a real professional,” Traynor said. “She’s ready to do whatever it takes to win, including becoming a fuck-slave to yours truly. She never once complained, no matter what I did to her. It is pretty incredible, especially when you consider that she is completely sexually oriented towards women. She finds men repulsive.”

  “But Ms. Duvet, you retired from competitive golf last year,” Emily said. “Why do you need a swing coach now?”

  “Please call me Carole, my dear child,” she said, smiling sadly. She turned to look at Traynor. “Then you have not told them?” she asked.

  “There was no real reason to tell them, yet,” he replied. “But since it’s come up, I suppose there isn’t any reason not to tell them now.”

  “Tell us?” asked Shelly. “Tell us what?” demanded Emily.

  “Do you remember one of those papers you signed when you came here, a waiver of audio and video recordings?” he asked.

  The two girls shook their heads uncertainly.

  “Well, while you have been here, I have had cameras recording your activities, especially your activities at night,” Traynor said. “I have some pretty steamy shots of both of you sweet, young things begging to be sodomized, swallowing my cock like porn stars and so on, and that doesn’t even include the Lesbian action between you two girls. I could make a very nice dollar peddling this stuff to a big Internet porn company.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Emily said. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  He smiled at her benignly. “I wouldn’t, if I didn’t have a very good reason to. I would have every legal right to sell those pictures, if I wanted to. But instead, all I ask is that my former students come to visit me in my loneliness from time to time. If they do, why then, none of these embarrassing pictures need ever see the light of day.”

  “So you can just blackmail us forever, is that it?” Emily demanded, tears of anger forming in her eyes.

  “Now, now, Thayer, don’t be dramatic,” he said. “Once you become too old for me to be interested in you any longer, I won’t call you back at all. ‘Blackmail’? It’s not as if I’m going to hold you up for money. I just want a little company, to renew old acquaintances, you might say. Instead of being so judgmental, you should be grateful. Because of my ‘blackmail’ you’re in for an experience you can tell your grandchildren about. This afternoon, you’re going to accompany the great champion, Carole Duvet, as she plays a match with me, and then tonight you’ll have a unique opportunity to get to know her in the most intimate circumstances.”

  He reached out and took Carole’s nipple rings in his fingers and casually twisted them. She sat patiently unmoving, waiting for Traynor to finish. “I wonder how you explained this jewelry when you got back home?” he asked. Carole remained silent.

  He rose and led them outside to a storage shed and flung the doors open. “I thought we would have a ride for our match today, Carole,” he said. “I have a special golf cart for us to use.”

  He pointed to the back of the shed at a strange-looking vehicle. It resembled a conventional golf cart from the rear, with a shelf intended to hold two golf bags behind a pair of padded tandem seats, the frame resting on four small, fat tires. But instead of a standard low dashboard in the front, it was open. Four metal rods attached to the open front end, extending four feet forward. There was a tangle of leather and metal strips piled on the s
eat.

  “This is my ‘Girl-Cart’,” Traynor said, patting the side of the vehicle. “You girls will get to see a real pro in action today. You’ll be watching every shot up close, because you will be pulling us in this cart. Now get over here. I’m going to harness you up to this thing. Carole, come over and help me,” he ordered.

  Reluctantly, the girls approached. Resentment flickered briefly in Emily’s eyes. After all he had done to them, was he now going to reduce them to draft animals? Traynor noticed her expression and stared her in the eye, as if waiting to see if she would challenge him. Emily returned his look for a moment, and then she dropped her eyes to the ground, her incipient rebellion easily crushed.

  She and Shelly stood between the guide-poles passively as Traynor, assisted by Carole, rigged them up. Their arms were tied behind their backs, forearm to forearm, the poles secured around their waists. The reins were attached to the nipples of the girls with toothed spring clips. After the golf bags were loaded aboard, Traynor and Carole took their seats and he snapped a short black whip sharply into the attractive pairs of buttocks the girls presented, making them yelp.