Bondage a la Carte

by Jurgen von Stuka

  That mental query about the missing gag didn’t last long. One of the crew, a man who had been there for one of the enema routines, came into the room, or cell, where I was kept. He had rather long dark hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. He looked fit and well-muscled. He was probably about my age, although it was hard to tell in the dim light. He inspected my bonds and then loosened the chains connecting my feet to my waist. Then he unlocked my nipple and nose chains and made me kneel, facing away from the wall, looking at him as he stood there, unzipping his pants. He said nothing, just pulled out his dick and, slowly rubbing it, moved towards me, aiming at my mouth. His eyes never left mine and I have to confess, I was fascinated by him and the size of the thing he waved at me.

  My God, there is no way I can get that monster in my mouth, I thought.

  When he was close enough, he moved the still growing, hardening organ up and down and made a gesture with his other hand, telling me to open my mouth. I kept it shut. Without warning he slapped me. Once. Hard. Almost knocking me down. Then he wagged his monster dick again and made the same opening gesture. Not wanting another blow to the other side of my face, I opened my mouth and slowly took him in, carefully guiding it past my teeth, letting the head push my tongue down and allowing my stretched lips to slide over the circumference of the giant thing. He smelled of some citrus-based cologne and tasted of man flesh. I had done this enough times with other men, part time boyfriends and long term lovers to know the routine. Sometimes it turned me off and at other times, especially when I was restrained, it was a humiliating form of punishment that I found more or less easy to endure. As he shoved forward and touched the back of my throat, I shook slightly and resisted the gag impulse that, even with my past experience, was very strong.

  Relax, relax, I told myself. This isn’t as bad as being pumped out like a toilet like they did yesterday.

  It never occurred to me, even in crazy, erotic dreams or fantasies, that I’d be here like this, doing what I had done with more than one man before in my life.

  My old boyfriend, the one with the cat, Fellatio, trained me well. He had been patient and cautious, telling me that the best way to give a blowjob was to be tied up or bound in such a way that there was little else to do other than relax and accept it. That was his opinion. Easy for him to say. He might as well have been practicing by jamming his dick into a hole in the wall for all I knew. He bound my ankles and knees with belts, made me kneel, then tied me with more belts and neckties, putting my back against the sturdy bedpost, pulling my arms back until the elbows nearly came together behind the post and wrapping them with the sash from his bathrobe. He bound my hands and pulled the multiple rayon neckties up through my pussy and then wrapped them around my waist, giving me the opportunity to excite myself as I pulled and strained with my helpless arms. Then he wrapped another tie around my neck and fastened it to the post. Yes, I could still move my head and the necktie was not very tight, so if I had wanted to fight it, I could have moved my head and dodged the oncoming insertion. But the fact is that I was hot and ready for this and he had done his homework and warmed me up slowly and lovingly playing with my tits and cunt for a long time, so it went fine that first time. He warned me not to bite him and said that the direst consequences would result from any, even small, tooth marks on his cock. I accommodated and when it was over, he said that I had done pretty well, but next time he was going to tie me so that nothing, no body part, could move, and then he’d again have his pleasure. He also said that he could care less whether or not I swallowed his cum. Made no difference to him, he said.

  But now I knew what to do and how to do it, so in a matter of a few minutes, this beefy crewman was coming hard and fast and squirting his semen all over me, but not in my mouth, a small favor that I gratefully accepted. It had not been accidental that my last and longest boyfriend’s cat was named after the act I had just carried out on this man, so it was as though they, my new owners, knew all along that I gave good blowjobs. Anyway, he seemed pleased and caressed my reddened cheek where he had struck me a few minutes before. He tucked his weapon back into his trousers and then looked at me, cocking his head as if to say, “Do you want to do anything else?” I responded by jerking my head towards the door which I hoped opened into the head, for it had been hours since I’d been able to relieve myself and the recent flushing out of my lower tract hadn’t helped.

  “Um,” he muttered quietly, hoisting me up off my knees and carrying me to the door he’d entered through. He unlocked the door and took me down the passageway to another door, opened that, set me down on my feet inside and closed the door. The toilet was in front of me and I turned and sat, thumping down on the seat as my sore knees gave out. Once again, I was sitting alone in a strange place, taking a piss and wondering what the hell was coming next. Bound in cuffs and chains, unable to even clean myself, I sat on the toilet on a strange ship and waited. I couldn’t even flush.

  The door opened and another man, one I hadn’t seen before, grabbed me by my chained arms and shoved me back down the passageway to my tiny room. He pushed me in and quickly locked my nose back to the floor ring, but left my feet and nipple rings alone. In a second, he was out the door and locking it. I was back where I’d been. A bit wiser and no more willing than I’d been on the first day. It was going to be a long cruise.

  VIII – Gladiator Slave Sisters

  Chapter One

  Mexico City, DF, Mexico

  “This has got to be the crummiest hotel I have ever seen, bar none,” grumbled Amy Windham.

  She was unpacking her large suitcase, the bag resting on the swaybacked steel frame bed. Her friend, Cindy Lynnbrook, stood, her hands tied behind her back, at the single dirty window, staring out at the Mexico City smog and the airshaft that offered no view at all.

  “Well,” said Cindy in a conciliatory tone. “What do you expect when you book at the last minute and use the Vampire Hag as a travel agent? I know she’s your long lost relative, but she doesn’t strike me as knowing anything about the travel business.”

  “She’s traveled a lot.”

  “Yeah. I’ll bet. To and from Transylvania once every hundred years. She also seems greedier than Silas Marner,” Cindy retorted.

  “Ok. Do we try to find something else or stay here and let the cucarachas carry us off in the night?” Amy said as she threw a white cotton dress back in the suitcase and flopped down on the bed beside the bag. The bed gave a squeaky shriek and sank another six inches closer to the stained carpet on the floor.

  “Oh shit. Let’s stay here tonight and get up in the morning and go looking for something that at least has a bathroom attached instead of one two miles down the hall.”

  “Agreed. We camp here tonight. I’ll put out the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign and we’ll get some sleep. Perhaps a little playtime before we go to sleep. OK?”

  “Ok. I’m up for that. This place is just tawdry enough for a little bit of “kidnapped by the evil foreigners” scenario. But how about untying my hands so I can get ready for bed?”

  “We’ll see. It depends on how you behave, my sweet little wench. For now, you can stay that way. On second thought, get over here and let me do your legs as well. You know better than to ask for freedom!”

  “Yes, Mistress,” a contrite Cindy muttered as she moved over to face her partner and present her long, smooth, well-structured and shapely legs for bondage.

  “Oh hell, I’ll untie you so you can get out of that dress. Then we’ll get you ready for bed.”

  The important things now settled, the two women, who had been college roommates for nearly four years, and business partners for the last eleven months, set about making the best of the hotel situation without bothering to unpack the rest of their clothes. The suitcases went on the cramped floor and they both stripped down to bra and panties, throwing their travel clothes on top of everything else. It was ten-thirty at night and their flight from New York to Miami and then on the Mexico City had been long and tir
esome. They had taken the trip on the spur of the moment because Amy’s second cousin, known to them both as the Vampire Hag, had called the day before, offering a spectacularly cheap two-week trip to Mexico, telling them that the package was available after a major client backed out at the last minute.

  “The deposits are all paid and all you have to come up with is a hundred and fifty each to cover the air,” she said.

  Knowing the woman as a greedy and unpleasant distant relative, Amy suspected a trick and carefully quizzed her for several minutes before agreeing to take over the trip. She and Cindy decided to change the itinerary, if needed, after they got to Mexico City. It now looked like that plan was going to be put into immediate effect, beginning tomorrow morning. Neither girl had ever been in Mexico before and both had reservations about it, based on what the U.S. media had been saying for years about the country’s high crime rate and occasional shoddy treatment of American tourists. The trip offer came when their own business was very slow and both girls wanted a brief getaway. Mexico seemed like a good idea at the time. At least it was warmer than New York in January.

  “I hate Mexico,” Amy whispered as she dozed on top of the torn bedspread while Cindy wrapped a raincoat around herself, picked up a towel and clean underwear and shuffled off down the hall in search of the lost bathroom.

  “How could I be so stupid?” she muttered. Then, thinking about their plan for the night, she got up and dug into one suitcase, pulling out her large toiletry kit. From the top of the fabric container, Amy removed another smaller case and from this, she took out small coils of braided nylon rope. She removed six of the coils and then closed the case, placing the rope on the pillow of the bed, next to the rope she had taken from Cindy’s wrists moments before. From the same suitcase, she took two large cotton bandanas, a small zip-lock plastic bag with a small appliance and batteries in it and a tube of water-based lubricating jelly. She placed these next to the rope. Then she waited, dozing on the bed, for Cindy’s return.

  When Cindy reentered the room, she took off the raincoat and placed it on the bed. She wore minimal underwear: a light blue demi-bra and matching thong. Her youthful body was still pink in places from the hot shower. Seeing her friend sitting on the other bed, still in seamless, smooth-cupped, T-shirt bra and high cut, white bikini panties, she walked over to her own bed and lay down on her back, reached up and gripped the steel bar at the head of the bed.

  “Ok. I’m ready, Mistress. Nice and tight tonight, please.”

  Amy looked over her shoulder at the supine form of her partner. “Stretch it out more, Slave,” she said quietly. “Stretch and hold it. You will be taken care of when I’m ready. That little episode on the way from the airport got you tied in the taxi, but you really deserve more that wrist bondage.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  Amy got up from the bed, picked up the bandanas and rope and walked slowly over to the other bed, one rope coiled in her left hand, the rest in her right. She bent over and carefully tied a double loop around Cindy’s left hand and secured it to the corner of the bed frame, pulling the bound hand down to where the head frame connected to the side and leg of the bed. She tied the knots carefully, making sure there was no slack in the rope, but also making certain that circulation to the bound limb was not interfered with.

  “How’s that?” she asked.

  “Fine, Mistress.”

  Amy leaned across the other woman’s body; her smooth, full, rounded breasts hanging down like warm, slightly pointed melons. She pressed first the erect nipples against the bra-enclosed breasts of the reclining figure. Then she brought her entire upper body into more intimate contact with Cindy’s. She tied the girl’s right hand the same way she’d tied the left and then gently moved down Cindy’s tanned, tight body, sliding her own breasts over the soft, vibrating surface, making hard contact with each rising part of Cindy’s pinioned figure. Amy moved to Cindy’s right ankle, looped it with another piece of rope and secured it to the lower right side of the bed frame. She bound the girl’s left leg in the same fashion, then sat up on the edge of the bed surveying her work.

  “I think this slave has seen quite enough of Mexico for one day,” Amy intoned as she rolled one bandana into a flat blindfold and placed it over Cindy’s eyes, then tied it behind her head. The second bandana was rolled into a tight ball and stuffed into Cindy’s open mouth. Amy then used another length of rope to tie the gag in place, wrapping the rope around Cindy’s head and pulling back the sides of her mouth slightly, but not painfully.

  “Did you pack all of your disposables, Slave?’ Amy asked curtly, checking the gag and rope that held it.

  “Uh huh,” Cindy sighed softly through the gag.

  “What?” said Amy sharply.

  “Yeths, Mithresss,” was the muffled reply.

  “That’s better. That’s good, because these are coming off.” With that, Amy grabbed the center of Cindy’s tiny cotton bra, pulling it up and away from her chest. Two full white globes, topped with small pink nipples, rolled out of the fabric cups and settled back on the girl’s chest, bouncing slightly. The bra’s side panels and elastic straps stretched and then broke, as Amy applied more force. Cindy moaned into the bandana gag, twisting her body as the bra tore away. Amy reached out again and seized the front of the cotton thong. She pulled this off the bound girl with equal violence and efficiency, throwing it across the room into the open suitcase.

  “If we do this right, you’ll be able to go home with lots of souvenirs in the space left by your missing bras and panties, Slave.” Amy’s hand brushed across Cindy’s bare breasts, squeezing first the left and then the right nipple and getting the appropriate whimper from the gagged mouth. “I think a little electronic control of the slave is in order. Raise your hips and hold that position.” Cindy obediently arched her stretched back and held the arch while Amy produced the appliance that had been in the plastic bag. Knowing Cindy could not see what she was doing, she checked the batteries at the base of the large plastic dildo, smeared a bit of the clear white jelly over its length and pressed the thing’s head to Cindy’s naked and shaven crotch. The blond jumped in her roped pose, twisting her hips to one side. Amy anticipated the move and, using two fingers to pull the lower lips apart, slowly thrust the monster into the warm slit between Cindy’s stretched legs.

  “Arrgh….ohhhhh…uh,uh,” Cindy gurgled into the bandana gag. Her hips bucked again as the phallus-shaped plastic vibrator probed deeper.

  “Like this?” Amy crooned, continuing to thrust.

  “Uh, huh, uh, huh, uh, huh,” Cindy groaned, moving her torso slowly to accommodate the penetrator.

  “Good, because it’s there for the night,” Amy said as the last few inches disappeared into the blonde’s crotch. The base of the thing was much larger and shaped like a small square box, about two inches on each side. It housed four large, rechargeable batteries and would run for many hours on a low power setting before it needed to be recharged. Amy had taken care to charge it well before they left home and she had brought an additional set of NiCad batteries as well. She used another short length of rope to give Cindy a tight waist belt and then brought the end of the rope down between the blonde’s legs, through the small slot in the bottom of the battery box and tied the rope off at the back of the rope belt.

  “Sleep well, my little Slave. See you in the morning.”

  Amy went to her own bed, took her towel and toiletry kit and went down the hall to the bathroom, leaving the door to their room slightly ajar to add just a touch of risk to the game. She doubted anyone would come up the three flights of stairs and walk into the room and find a nearly naked young woman gagged, blindfolded, tied to the bed and writhing about with a dildo up her cunt, but if they did so, Amy was prepared to deal with it.

  “There’s nothing wrong with fun and games between consenting adults,” she once told a dormitory neighbor who accidentally walked in on her and Cindy while they were tied to each other on the bed. The shocked girl s
tood in the doorway, surveying the picture of her two neighbors bound face-to-face at wrists, ankles and waist, wooden clothespins clamped onto their nipples, sweating and groaning enthusiastically on the small dorm bed. Amy looked over at her, gave a quick snap of her head to get the sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes and delivered her defensive statement. Two seconds later, the stunned girl backed out of the dorm room and closed the door softly. Cindy and Amy had wiggled and giggled themselves to exhaustion.

  Ten minutes later, Amy was back in the hotel room. She placed the worn “Do not disturb” sign on the outside doorknob, turning the Spanish side out, and closed and locked the door. On her bed, Cindy shivered and shook, wiggled and jerked her hips, humming into her gag.

  “It’s lights out time, Sweetie,” Amy said. “Oh, and one other little thing, just to keep you interested.”

  She leaned over and moved her right hand to the switch on the dildoe’s battery box, nestled between Cindy’s wide-spread thighs. This special item was a top-of-the-line vibrator, according to the sales representative Amy had talked to in the Upper East Side sex shop where she often bought sex toys and accessories. The price reflected the fine workmanship, precision motor and gears. The boxful of add-ons allowed the user to place the device or its accessories into at least three body openings and get rather phenomenal results. Amy especially liked the arrangement where a near duplicate of the primary phallus could be attached to the base and inserted into one aperture while the main fake cock went into someone else. This “double dick” set-up was popular with both her and Cindy and they had tried it while strapped and tied face to face with astonishingly productive results. A few weeks before they left for Mexico, Amy, being the more creative of the pair, suggested that they try it back to back and the results had been equally spectacular. The well lubricated double dick went smoothly into each ass and was held there by a belt and crotch rope combination worn by both girls. Their ankles, knees, waist and upper bodies were also tightly bound with thin paracord and twin leather dog collars connected their necks. Both were well gagged with head harnesses which featured a blindfold as well. For the final preparatory move, they each locked a single handcuff on one wrist, then placed their hands behind their back and around the waist of the other, then locked the cuffs. The result of this self-bondage, double anal penetration was more than either girl could bear, but they secured the only handcuff keys in a plastic bag of ice, the keys hanging suspended in the center of the two quarts of frozen water. The bag sat in a small bucket in the middle of the room and until the ice melted, there was no way they could free themselves. As it turned out, the melting took much longer than they expected and by the time the two exhausted females inched their way across the carpeted living room floor and were able to reach into the soggy plastic bag and grab a key, they were both nearly crazy from the double dildoes’ constant stimulation. They had very sore butts for a few days afterwards.