by Fulani
He smiled. Bared wolf-like teeth, making her feel like Little Red Riding Hood.
‘We have the technology.’
She assumed he was thinking about licking her out, or maybe a vibrator. In his world, however, her assumptions were wrong. What he held up was a foot-long cylinder with a bulbous end.
‘In this case,’ he announced, ‘the technology is a thing called a Magic Wand.’
He separated her legs wide, bent at the knees. Then slathered lube on her. ‘Believe me, however wet you already are, this thing creates a hell of a lot of friction.’
When he pressed the switch, it didn’t make a whole lot of noise. A quiet hum, but she could see the bulbous end quivering expectantly.
When he pushed it against her clit, Ruth did make a whole lot of noise. She’d expected it to be more powerful that her own vibrator. She wasn’t prepared for an onslaught that raced through her entire body, hitting every nerve ending – she could even feel it in her nipples. And she wasn’t prepared for instant, overwhelming effect: something like four orgasms in four seconds, without any option, and then a complete inability to shut off the stimulation so she just coming. Instead of riding the waves and building gradually to a climax, the repeated orgasms built in seconds to a super-climax for which she was completely unprepared and that left her as shattered as she’d been picked up and shaken by an earthquake. Her fingers, behind her back, clawed reflexively at the bed as if she were trying to stop herself being bounced off it.
It went on, real time, for a little over a minute. It felt like a year. There was no air left in her lungs, her vision was specked with black dots and Ruth felt herself beginning to black out. No muscle seemed to be under her conscious control, every nerve was on overload.
Even when he took the instrument away, her body continued to quiver with its echoes and reverberations.
She finally managed to concentrate on taking deep breaths, though every one felt as though an electric current was passing from clit to nipples to brain. Eventually the power of speech returned.
‘Fuck me …’
‘If you like. But I think I just did. Sort of.’
Ruth tried to clear her fogged brain.
‘How much power …?’
‘Only ten watts. I have one back home that delivers thirty ...’
She groaned. That was about the limit of her conversational abilities.
‘I’d say you haven’t encountered a forced orgasm before.’
Ruth shook her head. She hadn’t. But she’d like to experience one again. When she’d recovered a little more …
He untied her, made tea and coffee with the tiny kettle next to the TV. She sprawled on the bed, unable to move. They talked. Eventually she found the energy to use the en-suite toilet. Washed the dried spunk off her face, then looked at herself in the mirror. She looked at herself through Leo’s eyes and saw dark hair, bright eyes, smudged make-up. She saw the intricate pattern left by the ropes above and below her breasts, over her shoulders and on her upper arms. She already understood what it felt like to be tied, was ready for more; but now she also truly appreciated how the ropework had made her look. She had no doubt that tied and helpless, she would have looked hot enough to set fire to Leo’s eyeballs.
More of this, and soon, she thought. Even if she had to ask and beg for it.
Chapter Three
‘You said you were delivering a cage somewhere?’ She was still sprawled on his bed, comfortable and nude.
‘Yes. Why? Do you want to see it?’
The movement in Ruth’s shoulders was meant to be a shrug. ‘Idle curiosity.’
‘Nothing idle about curiosity. It’s in the van. I’m happy to take you out there.’
His hands were suddenly busy with rope, and Ruth’s wrists were behind her and tied together. How come he’d managed that so quickly?
‘You’re not going to …’
More rope just below her elbows, and just above them. ‘You didn’t tell me you can put your elbows together behind your back! You do realise, of course, that’s a bondage rigger’s dream?’
‘Oh! Well, yeah, I am flexible. But you’re not going to …’
The rope fed under Ruth’s left armpit, across the back of her neck, to the front of her right shoulder, back under her right armpit.
‘You surely didn’t expect me to take you out to see the cage and not put you inside it? Which means I need to take you there as my prisoner.’
‘Yes, but …’
He did something complicated behind her back, feeding the rope around one of the earlier knots, around the strand behind her neck, and down again. Pulled it tight.
‘But what? You think I’m going to march you out there naked? I think the hotel reception might take some interest! You can wear your overcoat.’
Five minutes later, that was exactly how it happened. Ruth, trussed tightly with arms behind her back and elbows meeting against her spine, was wearing her coat buttoned not quite all the way down so it showed some leg when she walked. And they strolled, his arm protectively around her, past a half-asleep receptionist and out into the car park.
Leo’s vehicle was a typical white van, grubby on the outside, not particularly new, with a few rust spots. It was completely anonymous, unremarkable. Probably just as well considering its contents.
He opened a rear door and picked Ruth up bodily, depositing her in a half-kneeling position inside. Climbed in after her, closed the door behind them, reached out to flick a switch. A small courtesy light illuminated the cage. It was gunmetal grey, six feet tall, bars about four inches apart, in the shape of a large parrot’s cage – domed at the top, with an eyebolt on the outside to hang it from and one on the inside from which some poor victim could be hung.
He unbuttoned her coat and placed it carefully in a corner; opened the small door to the cage and ushered her inside it. The cage floor yielded slightly under her heels. Rubber matting over steel, probably. Leo took the rope on her wrists and forced it upwards, so Ruth found herself having to bend forward. He took something from his pocket and secured her wrists far above her, leaving her in the doubled-up position. Next, he indicated with the pressure of a hand on the inside of her thighs that she should spread her ankles. She quickly found them also secured, tied with rope to the bars at each side of the cage. Her arse, still warm from the cane, rested against cool metal bars behind her. They felt good on her skin. It was also, she thought, convenient that her pussy was between two of the metal bars; he could stand behind her, outside the cage, and fuck her while she was tied there. Producing a padlock, he snicked it closed on the door.
‘That’s quite a situation you’re in,’ he commented. ‘Restrained inside a locked cage, presenting your cunt for my attentions.’
‘Yeah, quite a situation,’ she agreed dryly. ‘So are you going to take advantage of it? Me?’
His fingers explored her, separating her labia, finding her clit and eliciting a low moan. He discovered the wet warmth there. She was surprised to feel, suddenly, a trickle of woman-juice on the inside of her thigh.
‘You’re asking?’
‘More than asking. I’m fucking begging.’ That would have been an unthinkable thing for her to say, around five hours ago. Ruth was a quick learner. Or Leo a good trainer. Or both, of course.
‘In that case I’ll grant your request. But not here, because you’ll probably scream. I’m going to drive out to a place I know, and I’ll fuck you there. With the back doors open.’
His audacity shocked her, gave her that knot again in the pit of her stomach. He was pushing boundaries. Again. And she didn’t care, because the boundaries suddenly weren’t important.
Leo produced something else from his capacious pocket. It wasn’t a gag, as such: it was yet another short length of rope. He wound it around her head so that two strands were between her teeth, so it was a gag in effect. Four strands across her eyes, effectively acting as a blindfold. Then it seemed to run back, tying into her hair, and pull up and back to end in a knot
securing it to the top of the cage. Now Ruth’s head was pulled back by tension on her hair, while simultaneously preventing both vision and speech.
‘You’ll have to wait a few minutes for the fuck. I’ll take the corners carefully, so you can stay balanced in the cage.’
It was a headfuck of a journey. As soon as the van started to move, thoughts flooded Ruth’s mind. She was being kidnapped. She was naked, bound, gagged, blindfolded, in a cage, in an anonymous van and being taken to an unknown destination. She was being taken to a porn shoot where she’d be forced to … well, forced at any rate. She was being taken to a secret location where he’d keep her in chains, use her, whip her, hand her round to his friends. She was being transported to a slave auction, where he’d sell her to some sleazy foreign pimp. She was being taken to some exclusive private club where she’d be tied and forced to perform sexually in front of an audience.
Quite why these thoughts excited her, she had no idea. The last time she’d had such fantasies was around puberty, way before she’d lost her virginity at age eighteen. Afterwards there had been – because of her dedication to work and need for one-night stands – a lot of men. None of them had triggered these thoughts in the way she was experiencing them now. They felt real and immediate. Dangerous, and exciting.
The van stopped. The door opened, an inrush of cold night air. Ruth found herself snarling gently though the rope gag, flexing her pussy, stretching her legs to push as far back against the bars as she could.
And when Leo entered her, the headfuck had done its work and she was already halfway to climax.
She growled, yelped, squealed, not caring any longer if there was anyone around to hear. That was Leo’s problem. He’d got her in this state. It was his responsibility to have chosen a place where screaming sex wouldn’t attract attention.
His cock easily filled her, the tip pushing against her cervix. She flexed her legs, trying to persuade him to take her faster, but the ropework and cage meant he was in control. He’d take her at the speed and depth he chose. Ruth was frustrated as well as excited by the deliberation with which he fucked her. For the second, or maybe third or fourth, time that night she had to submit, surrender, and allow him to do it his way.
It didn’t matter, because she was on an endorphin high that would have had her, if she weren’t bound and caged, floating against the roof of the van.
Her climax arrived quickly, was long and filthy. She shuddered, shook, screamed and swore. Called him names. Called him even nastier names. It took her a while to run out of language. Leo chuckled. She was amusing him.
His climax was seconds later. She could feel him pumping inside her, filling her up, stretching her pussy in every direction. Could feel his every gasp and spasm as he ejaculated.
Uncharacteristically, for someone who insisted on safe sex, it was only then that she wondered if he’d used a condom. Was reassured by the rustle and snap of the thin latex as he peeled it off himself.
Hands stroked her flanks gently, found her breasts, cupped them.
‘Do you want to stay here or ride back with me in the front of the van?’
‘Ay ere.’ The ropes prevented the use of consonants.
‘And should I take the ropes off when we get back to the car park, or take you back to my room with the ropes on?’
‘Opes on.’
He laughed.
‘Your wish, my command.’
She walked back through reception, still in bondage under her coat, feeling like a dirty used slut and thrilled by it. She’d just been through an experience that felt unique and extreme. She felt any boundaries she’d had, had evaporated. And she was greedy for more bad treatment.
But back in his room, with the ropes off again, she realised it was almost six in the morning. Only half an hour before she’d normally get up to begin her day.
She draped her naked body over his clothed one. ‘Much as I hate the idea, I have to go back to my room. Shower. Take make-up off. Put make-up on. Dress. Have breakfast. Get my head into gear for work.’
‘Of course you do. Shall we meet up for breakfast?’
She had wardrobe problems, but eventually found a blouse with a high neck and long sleeves that just about hid the rope marks. Teamed it with the shortest skirt in her collection, and the heels she’d worn all night.
Breakfast was maddening. She wanted to be able to talk about what had happened, how she’d felt, how the experience had changed her. Explore more of this new world. Instead they made small talk in a crowded room; the connection between them evidenced only by the way their eyes locked together. They exchanged business cards, a strangely formal way of saying they’d keep in touch. Ruth drank too much coffee.
‘I suppose,’ she whispered as they left the dining room, ‘you’re going to spend your day tying some woman up and fucking her stupid, like you did me?’
‘Hmm … Actually, that’s “women” in the plural. I think they’ve arranged a scene with three models. But I won’t be the only Dom there.’
They promised to phone, email, Skype each other. And went their separate ways.
For Ruth, the day passed in a daze. She could barely concentrate, went through her training materials on autopilot. Every time she sat down or stood up, she could feel the marks on her arse. Every time she walked, she half-expected to find her arms tied behind her back. She’d worn no tights or stockings, and at lunchtime went to the toilets and removed her panties. Took the afternoon session without them on.
Of course, when she returned to the hotel, Leo had gone. Ruth felt empty, hollowed out. She’d had no sleep the night before, but that wouldn’t normally stop her hunting in the hotel bar. That evening, though, was different. She checked emails. Nothing from him. She experimented, using belts to bind her ankles and the loop of a belt around her neck as she sat naked at her laptop, the other end of the belt trapped in a desk drawer to create a sense of restraint. It wasn’t the same as rope and fingers on her skin. After the Magic Wand, her own vibrator felt puny.
She turned his business card over in her hands, examining it as though there might be some hidden message there. His address was a city a hundred miles away – but one where she did business frequently. It raised endless possibilities in her mind.
At midnight, she was on the verge of emailing him when an email from him popped into her inbox. It was brief but friendly. He’d only just got home, was tired out, but had enjoyed their night together and hoped to be able to recreate it soon. Complemented her on her flexibility and endurance, and the cute way she screamed.
Ruth went to sleep reassured. She dreamed dark fantasies of suffering, submission, bondage, torture and forced orgasm.
Chapter Four
In the days that followed, Ruth didn’t stop sleeping with other men. She was, if anything, more brazen about it. She hunted in shorter skirts, tops that revealed more cleavage and navel, and no underwear. She picked up an advertising exec who was overawed by her new skills at oral sex and wanted to make her his personal assistant there and then, presumably so he could continue to enjoy her mouth. She tried a threesome for the first time with two structural engineers, kneeling on the bed and being, as one of them put it, “spit roasted” with a cock in her pussy and another in her mouth at the same time. Breaking her usual pattern she even slept with them again a couple of nights later, enjoying double penetration, arse and pussy at the same time.
Even so, sex by itself wasn’t satisfying enough any longer. She wanted, craved, the rope. And the cane. And the other kinky stuff.
Feeling slightly depraved, Ruth bought ten metres of rope at a DIY store, went online to check out bondage how-to sites. Discovered the instructions for a body harness, known in the BDSM world as a “karada”, and learned how to tie it. Most nights, after work, she’d strip off in her hotel room, tie it on herself and wear it for the evening. Slept in it some nights. Wore it under her long coat and went late-night shopping in 24-hour stores. She enjoyed the friction and pressure of the knot
against her clit, the pain that lanced through her body if she moved unwarily and the knot suddenly bit more tightly.
Feeling like a cross between a long-distance lover and a stalker, she searched the internet for examples of Leo’s work. On Vimeo, she found a video of a performance from a bondage convention. She’d never even known there were such things. Leo was on stage with a model so flexible and graceful she must have been a dancer or gymnast. He tied her, suspended her face-down with arms spread, one leg splayed back and one bent below her as though running in mid-air. He attached tiny smoke machines and lasers to the ropes, making her look alternately like an ethereal angel or a demon captured in mid-flight as she spun at the end of the ropes. His gradual working and re-working of the ropes, changing her position, was a cross between an aerial ballet and a puppet performance.
The images stayed in Ruth’s head for days.
After that, she discovered some porn sites featuring his work. In one of them she saw the cage. The woman in the cage was having a hard time. She was tied in the position Ruth had been in, arms behind her and tied up to the top of the frame. She was wearing nothing apart from a leather hood. She struggled with her balance because the cage itself was suspended a couple of feet off the ground, swinging from side to side. And she was screaming because every so often, some kind of electrical device delivered shocks to her pussy. Eventually, the cage was lowered to the floor and the hood removed, and she was expected to suck off some guy Ruth didn’t recognise, in the approved style Leo had taught her. The electrical shocks didn’t stop, though, which meant her breaths were punctuated by shrill screams.
The camera panned across to another woman, elaborately suspended by rope, who was face-up. Leo had bent her right leg back as far as it would go and tied it to her long hair, so her head was bent back and she couldn’t move it. While she was held in that position Leo fucked her throat while flogging her pussy at the same time. The third woman was suspended by her wrists, standing on a chair until Leo took it away from underneath her. Then Leo and the other guy used scissors to cut away all her clothing and then took turns whipping her. They used bullwhips that left long, raw marks on her skin. Eventually she was allowed to come, or forced to orgasm, by a Magic Wand.