Bound and Bonded

by Kyoko Church

  Kay knew. All about command and control, and domination. ‘Roll over,’ she growled.

  I tumbled over onto my side, rolled onto my back. I instinctively brought my hands and knees up, in a truly supplicating pooch-man gesture. Kay towered over me, looking down at me staring eagerly up at her. Then she smacked the tip of her crop against my balls, and I bayed at the move.

  She snorted and smacked my tightened, tingling sack a second time. Then she roughly dragged her crop along the length of my pulsing cock and swatted my bloated cap. My eyes rolled back in my head and I gulped slobber. My stiffened body trembled, my stiffened cock twitching under the stroking, smacking lash of my mistress’s whip. She jostled my balls around, painted my shaft with leather, batted my hood back and forth.

  ‘Time to really put you through your paces.’

  I blinked my glazed eyes, sucked my swollen tongue back into my mouth. Kay jerked on my chain and I leapt back up onto my hands and knees again. She started jogging, running ahead of me. I bounded forward on all fours to catch up.

  It was like the Westminster Dog Show for kinky adults. Kay trotted around the perimeter of the play area with me struggling to keep pace. I watched her taut buttocks clench and shudder in her form-fitting bodysuit, appetising rabbits to my randy racing.

  She smacked me on the head, and I kept my head straight. She smacked me on the ass, and I kept my form erect and in line, running along at her high heels in perfect canine rhythm.

  We made four circuits around the play area. There weren’t any judges or spectators to rate my performance, just hard-to-please Kay. She berated my efforts with some hard cracks across my buttocks, begrudgingly rewarded me by stroking between my deliciously stung cheeks, along my sensitive ass crack, with her crop.

  The parade finally halted in the middle of the room, leaving me breathless. My cock took a full five seconds to bob back under control and obediently point straight forwards again.

  The show was far from over, however.

  Ringmaster Kay quickly set up a series of small obstacles for me, by stacking up some of the larger chew toys. Then she dragged me back against the far wall and positioned me for a run and three leaps.

  I looked at the three low hurdles evenly spaced down the middle of the room, and grinned confidently up at Kay through my muzzle. Piece of cake for this semi-athletic dawg, I thought. Kay glared grimly down at me, knowing more than I, as usual.

  Fact is, it’s no easy task jumping over anything on your hands and knees. You might be Jesse Owens in the 110-metre hurdles, but put you down on your knees, add your hands to the equation, and you’ll find that your limb coordination leaves something to be desired. Unless you’re a show-jumping pony girl by nature and training.

  I sprayed chew toys all over the carpet with my dragging knees and flopping feet.

  Kay slashed my butt cheeks till the red streaks flamed white-hot on my soft back-skin. I was sorely tempted to bark that I bet she didn’t inflict this kind of punishment on her real four-legged furry students. But I bit my tongue, because my buttocks and body were actually surging with searing pleasure along with the scorching pain she was cranking out.

  Just like I’d never been dominated before, I’d never been punished for pleasure, either. But now I was taking the well-intentioned and well-aimed blows on my backside and thrilling with the sudden sting, the shimmering burn, the internal and external flaming. My cock was jolted with each and every rump-whack, and I was soon leaking pre-come to go along with the tears in my eyes.

  It was a raw, rugged new experience for me, and I was revelling in it. Kay with her hard, beautiful face and lithe black body looked good enough to eat to me. I licked my slavering chops.

  It took five crossings up and down the room, and many more whippings, but I finally made it – I leapt over the low barriers in rapid succession without so much as jostling a chew toy. I was as proud as a blue-ribbon recipient, my ass and face beaming.

  ‘Good dog,’ Kay allowed, pulling me up short at her slut-heels. Then, ‘Time to be a bad dawg.’

  I looked up at her, my tongue hanging out of the muzzle, panting, as she pulled a steel zipper on her bodysuit from neck to navel. The rubber garment split open like a blackened banana, and a naked woman stepped out, except for her boots.

  Kay’s body was white as ivory, just as smooth and shiny, aside from the black bush in between her legs. Her tits were small and taut, tipped by inordinately long, hard, pink nipples. She placed her hands on her hips and spread her legs in a towering power-stance.

  ‘Lick me!’ she ordered, jerking on my chain.

  I leapt at the woman’s pussy, like any male animal would. My paws landed on her lean thighs and my tongue plunged into her downy bush, against the soft, pink petals of her pussy. I lapped like a thirsty mutt at its water dish, jouncing my head up and down, dragging my tongue all through her fur and along her slit. I thrust my sticker as far out and as deep as it would go, though I doubt I rivalled any of her clients in the cages. She glared down at me, teeth set and tits heaving.

  I nuzzled her warm cunt, really sinking my nose in, rubbing my face in the woman’s wet and woolly sex. Until she snapped my head up with a tug on the chain and tapped the tip of my moist snout with the crop. ‘Jump up on my tits.’

  I was a show dog for sure now, springing up and landing my paws on Kay’s arms, my tongue on a nipple. She shivered slightly, as I swirled my damp licker around and around one of her stiffened, inch-long nipples, then bounced over to her other rubbery bud and gave it the same treatment.

  She pointed at the floor, and I climbed down off of her. ‘Now you’re going to fuck me – doggy-style.’

  My tongue lolled out of my mouth, cock jutting at rigid attention from my loins. Kay went down on her hands and knees, leash still wrapped around one fist, riding crop clenched in the other. She stuck her tight, mounded bottom out at me. I sniffed it, probing my nose in between her cheeks. She shuddered.

  I dug my tongue in, licked at the woman’s soft, silky crack, spun the tip around her pucker. She reached back and whacked my shoulder with the whip, and I mounted her, jumping up onto her buttocks and spearing my cockhead into her fur.

  I hit her hole, thrust inside. I arched my back and howled, penetrating my mistress’s cold, commanding exterior to the molten hot core. I draped my body over hers and humped like a mad dog.

  Kay gasped, gritted her teeth so hard they grated. I grabbed onto her tits and groped them, pounding my cock into her pussy. We banged and burned together, joined at the furry loins. Drool streamed out of my muzzle and sweat off my face, body ablaze, pelvis pumping.

  The only indication I had that she came was when she whimpered softly and rippled beneath me.

  Then I yowled, bouncing on top of Kay, blowing out my balls inside her in blazing bursts of utter joy.

  ‘You’ve earned your treat,’ she said afterwards, taking Tom out of a pet carrier in her office and handing him to me.

  ‘Why’d you do it?’

  The diva of doggy discipline faltered, her eyelashes fluttering and eyes misting. ‘I – I was desperate. I need the money to build a no-kill shelter onto this building, but – but I couldn’t raise it. People don’t care about stray dogs, only their dogs. I can’t allow any more to die.’

  I looked away, embarrassed. What she had was a pipe-dream, but I could sympathise; I was a bit of a stray myself, orphaned at an early age.

  Tom barked in my arms and licked my face. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said to Kay. ‘I won’t tell on you. Livia can afford a measly hundred grand. She’ll just be happy to get her Tom back.’

  Something like a smile flickered across Kay Bowsers’ hard, handsome face.

  Tom and I quickly turned tail, before we both got a double dose of discipline to make up for all that unrestrained emotion.

  The Unicorn

  Kyoko Church

  If you were outside the door and heard the uncontrollable giggling emanating from the master bedroom, you might think the
people inside were watching the most hilarious movie ever. But then if you stayed and heard the ensuing crying, begging and pleading, you would know otherwise. You might crane your neck, press your ear against the door, to try and hear words to help you figure out this dichotomy. All you would be able to make out, though, would be impassioned pleas of ‘Stop!’ ‘No more!’ ‘Please!’

  What would you see, if you dared to open the door to peek in? Well, wouldn’t you like to know! Could you figure it out from what you saw? It would certainly be a confusing scene to stumble across.

  You’re still here? You still want to know? OK, twist my arm.

  You’d see me, a 51-year-old man who should have known better, naked and tied to a chair. You’d see my wife, a woman who, at 44, I still find to be the hottest piece of ass around – save, perhaps, for the other woman in the room, but I’ll get to her – naked and tied spread-eagled to our bed. And yes, the other woman. Close in age to my wife. Petite. Brunette. Curvy. Sexy as all hell.

  Sounds like a good time, right? That’s what I thought too, when I went online to a website catering to couples who want to find a unicorn. You know what that is, right? No? Urban Dictionary defines it thus: ‘A bisexual person, usually though not always female, who is willing to join an existing couple, often with the presumption that this person will date and become sexually involved with both members of that couple, and not demand anything or do anything which might cause problems or inconvenience to that couple.’

  Considering what happened, that last part would be hilarious if things hadn’t gone so madly awry.

  So how does a sexy little minx render two grown adults powerless, completely at her mercy? Oh, she’s a sly little thing. She made it all seem so harmless at first. There was lots of giggling and wine and oh, won’t it be fun if we tie each other up? Except she was the only one doing the tying. Before we knew it our cosy little get-to-know-you threesome soirée turned into something else entirely. By the time we realised exactly who was in charge, well, it was too late.

  That’s when everything went pear-shaped.

  * * *

  ‘Stop!’ I rasped, all hoarse and weak. Weak from the hour of teasing handjobs with no release. Weak from watching my wife squirm and struggle and plead at her devious hands. Hoarse from begging on her behalf, on my own. ‘Please!’

  ‘Please, Carla. Please, no more,’ my wife gasped, her body slumped, her words pathetic.

  ‘Now that isn’t what I told you to call me,’ Carla said, smiling seductively, trailing her wicked fingers back up my wife’s thigh, heading to that spot once again.

  ‘Mistress! Sorry! I mean Mistress!’ my wife spluttered, suddenly jolted out of her slump by terror that the torture might continue.

  ‘Hmm, that’s better,’ our new Mistress said. ‘Since you’re just learning I’ll let it slide. This time.’ I could see the relief all over wifey’s face as Mistress turned her wicked stare to me. I, in turn, stiffened visibly.

  She chuckled. ‘You see, I hear him telling me to stop, trying to stick up for you. But it’s a little hard to take him seriously, what with that enormous hard-on right in his lap.’

  I hung my head in burning shame but nonetheless could feel wifey’s accusing stare all the same. Because it’s true. My cock was as hard as it’d ever been. It waned slightly when Mistress stopped her tickle torture and I heard my wife’s sad, meek little pleas. But only slightly. And when she leaned over and taunted her anew, slowly sliding her delicate but strong fingers with those bright red nails up my wife’s smooth pale skin, heading for that spot, those ticklish spots on her hips that Mistress had so deviously discovered, while my sweet girl pleaded and begged her not to, I knew it was wrong, I knew I was a twisted, sick man, but I couldn’t help what the sight did to my body. My cock throbbed and twitched in anticipation of seeing my wife’s naked, helpless body writhe and twist at the hands of her sexy tormentor.

  Mistress reached down into her bag and pulled out a long white feather. Wifey immediately started moaning in anticipatory dread. ‘Oh, don’t worry, silly!’ Mistress said, looking over at my wife consolingly. ‘This isn’t for you.’

  And suddenly her eyes narrowed on me.

  If I hadn’t already been tied to the chair I would have felt pinned to it nonetheless, by her steely glare alone.

  Slinking slowly over to me, brandishing that feather as though she could use it to cut through all the synthetic ties that fastened me to the chair, she said, ‘You wanna help the little woman get free?’

  I gulped.

  ‘It’ll be so easy,’ she crooned.

  Somehow I didn’t believe her.

  ‘All you have to do is hold your little come in your little fucking balls,’ she said, all low and dangerous. My breathing hitched at her words. My ‘little fucking balls’ tightened. ‘And I’m only going to use this feather.’

  How could I describe the ensuing blissful torture? The soft, silky tendrils of that feather caressing my super-sensitive, rock-hard shaft in slow, lazy strokes. It was madness that it could be so hard to hold back with such limited stimulation. But I felt half out of my mind with it. Somewhere in my addled consciousness I was aware that my wife was watching in embarrassing amazement at just how pathetic her husband was, struggling so hard not to come from a feather on his dick. And that just made it worse.

  ‘Now I’m going to set your alarm clock here for two minutes from now. And if you can last that much more, then I’ll tell you what? I’ll let the little woman go. How’s that?’

  Wifey immediately looked awash with relief. But then she looked at my dick. Which was purple. And suddenly she looked fearful again.

  ‘Ready?’ Mistress asked. I think I must have nodded. ‘This is gonna be fun!’ she giggled. And pressed the alarm button.

  I fought hard. I really did. As much as it turned me on to see my wife with our deviously sexy abductor, I could tell wifey really wanted to be untied. So as Mistress stroked me over and over, all over my stiffened prick, I breathed and clenched and did everything I could in my restrained state not to come. I almost made it too. But after a minute and a half she took the end of that feather and wiggled its silkiness in rapid back and forth motions under the sensitive head of my cock. It caught me by surprise. I wasn’t prepared. I gasped. And one shot of come erupted onto my bare chest.

  ‘Oh, God!’ wifey cried, almost as though she had just come, as Mistress cruelly snatched the feather away from my prick, halting all sensation and leaving my hips attempting to thrust up against the restraints while any pleasure from the release was as cruelly snatched away from my body.

  I groaned loudly at the frustration of not being able to pump out all of my pent-up seed. Mistress chuckled low again. ‘Aww, that’s a shame.’ Turning back to wifey she murmured, ‘Goody. I get to keep you. And it’s your turn again.’

  * * *

  Wifey was whimpering a bit as she watched Mistress walk back to the bed. ‘It’s OK,’ Mistress whispered. ‘We’re going to try something a bit different this time.’

  She adjusted the straps she’d used to secure wifey to the bed so that she was no longer spread-eagled but her knees were bent and her feet were up almost alongside her ass. This way, wifey’s pussy was splayed wide open, clearly visible both to me in my chair past the foot of the bed and to Mistress. To my shock, glistening glints of girl goo were visible in the folds of her pretty pink hole.

  ‘Well, well,’ Mistress chided. ‘What a slutty little mess wifey has made!’ She tied another strap across wifey’s abdomen that secured her torso to the bed. ‘Looks like someone enjoyed our show!’ She winked at me and moved back around to the foot of the bed. My wife had put her head back down on the bed so I could no longer see her face, but I could only imagine how it was flushed with embarrassment. We often teased each other in bed. Nothing like this, but I did know how it aroused her to see me struggling to hold my come. Apparently she really liked the feather show.

  ‘We’ll have to clean you up,’ Mistress
purred. And with that she dove between my wife’s thighs. And started licking.

  If the partial orgasm I’d had – the ruined one that only allowed one spurt of jism to escape my tortured cock – had taken any of the edge off my arousal, the sight of our Mistress busying herself with my favourite task, licking the silvery strands of my wife’s excitement from her pussy, and the screams of ecstasy that it elicited from my beloved girl had me ramped right back up again. Knowing what it was doing to me, Mistress made sure she pushed wifey’s knees wide and put her own head off to the side just a bit, so that I got a full view of the tongue-lashing. How it made my cock pulse and twitch to watch her lick and suck all of wifey’s juices from her cunt, only to reach in with her fingers, pull out more and lick those clean too. On her second dive into wifey’s hole, she pulled those girl-come-soaked digits out, reached up and made wifey suck them clean.

  ‘That’s a good little slut,’ she whispered. Sitting up then, she looked from me, back to wifey and then at me again. You could practically see the wheels turning in her brain. It was terrifying.

  ‘I think turnabout’s fair play. Let’s see if your stamina is a little better than Mr Quick Come over there.’ My cheeks burned bright. I thought I heard wifey stifle a little moan. ‘I’ll set the clock again. Three minutes this time, since women are stronger than men in this regard. Wouldn’t you say so, Quickie?’ she said, looking over at me. I could only duck my head down in shame. Turning back to wifey again, she said, ‘If you can take three minutes of my tongue and fingers without coming, I’ll untie you both and leave you to your own devices.’

  That sounded amazing to me! I was so fucking horny at this point, I was ready to fuck my gorgeous wife all fucking night. And she had always been someone who struggled to come via oral. So three minutes would be no problem for her.

  ‘If you don’t make it,’ Mistress continued, speaking to my wife but with her eyes pinned meaningfully back on me, ‘you have to give your husband to me for the night. I have some friends at a little club we have who would like to train him. I mean, meet him.’ Her eyes glinted.