Bound for Trouble

by Alison Tyler

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Bound here, by me. All the control in my hands.” The man braced a hand on David’s shoulder and leaned close. “How does it feel to give up all that power, for just a while?”

  “Good, Sir.” David pulled himself up to get closer to the headboard, in hopes it would relieve some of the strain on his wrists.

  “I bet it gets you hot, too,” he said, his breath tickling David’s ear. “Your cock all hard and ready because of me.”

  David shifted, his cock becoming more sensitive each time it pressed against the mattress, but it didn’t help. He was aching so bad now. “It’s ready for you, Sir.”

  “Arch up,” his companion ordered, before moving away.

  David tried to comply, pulling his legs so that he could prop up on his knees. The pain around his ankles was relentless, as was that around his wrists. Once he had gotten to his knees, the pressure on his cock was lessened a bit, but not enough. He glanced toward his wrists, the blue silk a striking contrast against the reddened skin around it. There was no blood, but he could tell the rubbing had started to chafe his skin. He would have to wear a long-sleeve shirt tomorrow.

  “Looks like you were telling the truth,” his companion said, positioning himself behind David so that his own legs were straddling David’s. “Let’s do something about that.”

  He began to slip David’s underwear down, just enough to release his cock, and let the elastic band snap up snug under David’s balls. David flinched at the split second of pain, but then the man’s hand was on David’s cock and he couldn’t think of much else other than pleasure. He looked down and saw the smooth hand encircling his cock, squeezing, and he couldn’t suppress a moan. David knew he wasn’t going to last long, didn’t think his body could hold off even if he wanted to. With each squeeze, he bucked back, his ass coming into contact with his companion. And then he had to push forward again, the pull of the tie around his wrist causing too much pain if he didn’t. On and on they went, repeating the cycle as pain blurred into pleasure and his whole body was tingling.

  And then, in one moment, everything stopped; no pain, no pleasure, no sound at all. It was still and then everything went into overdrive as he spilled forth, his cock jerking in his companion’s hand and his restraints giving him little room to move. He tried to stay upright, since he had not been given permission to do otherwise, but his legs couldn’t withstand the strain. As soon as his companion’s hand moved away from his crotch, David fell exhausted to the bed, his face pressed into the mattress and his still-leaking cock staining the sheets beneath. He felt the bed shift as the man moved off, then the sound of the dresser drawer as, he assumed, the paddle was being put away.

  David wanted to move, to look and confirm, but instead he just lay resting. Sleep was calling to him and he might have let himself be taken away by it if not for the sudden flash of pain that ran up his arm. His head shot up to look and he saw Steven struggling with the tie, trying to loosen the tight knot it had formed.

  “It’s not coming loose. I’m going to have to cut it,” he said, reaching to open the bedside drawer and remove a pair of scissors. It wasn’t the first time David had to be cut out of restraints, but he always mourned the loss of his clothing when it happened.

  “Make sure to order me another few to replace this one,” David said, letting his body relax back down into the mattress as Steven worked.

  Soon his arms were freed, the blood rushing back to his fingers as he laid his hands upon the mattress beside him. They were numb, then tingled as the feeling returned. He saw that his right wrist was encircled with red and the top layer of skin had been worn off during the session. David was sure his left one matched it, but he didn’t feel like turning over to check.

  His feet were next, but they came loose with much more ease. The elastic of the suspenders had worked out much better than the leather belts they normally used, so he’d have to remember to wear suspenders more often in the future.

  David closed his eyes, relaxed and ready to sleep now. He felt the mattress dip on his left, then an arm wrapped around his back to lie against his shoulder.

  “Will that be all, Mr. Roberts?” Steven asked, placing a kiss against the back of David’s neck.

  He thought about answering, but he didn’t need to anymore. Instead, he let sleep overtake him. The warm weight of Steven lying beside him was enough to take his mind off anything else.

  THE KISSING PARTY

  Rachel Kramer Bussel

  Who could resist an invitation to a kissing party? Not me. Some people think that kinky people only like the naughty parts of sex, the whips and chains and spankings, the crawling on the floor, the lips pried apart, the nipple clamps, the commands. I love all those things, but I love my husband Derek’s beautiful lips more than anything. I could kiss them for hours—and I planned to, when he forwarded me the invitation to the kissing party. Over the years, we’ve been to our share of swingers clubs, sex parties, and play parties, not to mention the random dinner parties that, after dessert and a few glasses of wine, had turned into mini-orgies, but a kissing party would be something new. From what I could tell, the rules were that you could, and were encouraged to, kiss with abandon, but full-on sexual activity was verboten. How handsy we were allowed to get was up in the air, but I had a feeling we’d find out.

  But we are, both of us, kinky to a fault, so he brought a blindfold and, yes, nipple clamps. He put the clamps on me at home, right before I got dressed, lovingly attaching each, then screwing them in. “I’m using these instead of the tweezer clamps so they don’t get jostled; it wouldn’t be the same if your pretty nipples were set free.” So with my nipples trapped between the metal, and our other toys in my purse, we headed off in a cab for Brooklyn, a good half hour ride, with plenty of potholes, along with some jiggling from Derek. By the time we pulled up in front of the bar, I was so wet I almost wanted to go home, or sneak off to an alley where he could give me some relief.

  “I thought you wanted to go to a kissing party, Belinda,” he teased me, tipping the driver double our fare as he reached his hand down my black wrap dress and gave the man behind the wheel a peek at my nipple. I noticed him smile before Derek pulled me out of the cab.

  “I do want to go, baby, but I don’t know if I can wear these all night.”

  “Oh, you can, Belinda, and you will,” he said, pulling me close for a kiss that started with my lips slammed hard against his, and ended with him biting my lower lip hard enough to make me whimper. I hurried up the stairs after him as best I could in my towering four-inch black-and-silver heels, my sexiest shoes, ones that conveniently pushed my ass out and my tits forward. Derek paid our entrance fee and ushered me into a lush bar with red-painted walls and erotic art on the walls.

  Couples were kissing on bar stools, against doorways, in seats. And not just couples; I saw triple kisses and groupings, foursomes, and one lucky man lay across the laps of three beautiful women, one of whom was leaning down to kiss him. With a hand cupping my ass, Derek led me to the bar. Usually I’d order an extra-dirty martini, but when he ordered me a vodka and cranberry, then turned me around and began to blindfold me, I immediately knew why. I love the elegance of a martini glass, its sleek curves and olive decoration, but trying to drink out of one without seeing what I was holding would surely lead to a martini-soaked dress. Plus Derek likes seeing me put anything in my mouth, mini-straws included.

  “And for the lady,” the bartender said, making my face warm when I turned back in my seat, knowing the word emblazoned on the blindfold would tell him everything he needed to know about me: SLUT. It was true—for Derek, I was a slut in the very best sense of the word. I’d do anything he asked me to, even if I didn’t initially like it, even if it embarrassed me or made me nervous. I love and trust him, and he’s never steered me wrong.

  “Thank you,” I said when Derek pinched my ass, then put my hand out for my drink, but Derek slapped it away.

  “Not tonight, my slu
t.” I heard him rummaging around in my bag and seconds later found my wrists being fastened into leather handcuffs behind my back. He must have slipped them in my bag when I wasn’t looking. He returned to his stool and said, “Now you can open that pretty mouth,” and when I did, he slipped the straw in. It may not seem like such a big deal, sipping a drink from a straw, especially in a room full of people kissing, but when you’re wearing a slut blindfold, nipple clamps and handcuffs in public, it becomes a pretty big deal—big enough to make my pussy ache. I took a big sip and then let the straw go.

  No sooner were my lips free than Derek was tilting my head toward his and kissing me again. This kiss wasn’t like the one we’d shared outdoors. It was soft and slow and tender, his tongue making love to mine, filling me with warmth. I angled closer, tilting my head, taking him in. His hands moved to my cheeks and his tongue took over, invading so I almost couldn’t breathe. The kiss finally ended, leaving me trembling. “You have fans, Belinda,” he whispered in my ear. “I can see several couples checking you out, admiring how hot you look. I think the friendly thing to do would be to offer to kiss them, don’t you?” Of course it wasn’t really a question—it never is with Derek. He was telling me that I was about to kiss strangers I couldn’t see, under his tutelage.

  He gave my cheek a little pat, then a slightly harder one. I moaned, knowing this wasn’t the time or place for a full-on slapping session, the kind that leads to him tossing me onto the bed, shoving my ankles up to his hips, and fucking me as hard as he can. Maybe I’d be lucky and get that later. Now it was kissing time.

  Derek moved behind me and helped me stand up, keeping an arm around my waist to balance me as I walked in the heels. I heard him say hello to a table of people, then thrust me forward. “This is Belinda. She’s mine, but I’m offering her to you to kiss and pet. She likes being used like that, and she’s very good with her mouth. Feel free to kiss her here, too,” he finished, exposing my clamped nipples, which by then were throbbing.

  “Hi, Belinda,” cooed a woman’s voice. I pictured her with teased bleached-blonde hair and glossy red lips, a modern-day Marilyn Monroe. Her sweet perfume suffused my senses, and soon I was sitting down next to her while her lips met mine. Her lips were sticky with gloss, her tongue tentative at first. I heard murmurings around me but was too focused on the kiss to make out the conversations. The woman’s hands brushed the skirt of my dress open enough to expose the fact that I wasn’t wearing panties. She left it like that, and kept kissing me, her tongue tickling mine, her gloss smearing into my skin.

  Since her hands were tangled in my long brown hair, I knew someone else must have reached for my nipples, thumbs massaging them, rotating each clamped nub. As the touch permeated my body, sending waves of pleasure starting from my nipples and radiating outward, I realized it didn’t matter who was touching me. Maybe it was even hotter not to know, not to think, to simply feel. “You can take them off if you want to,” I heard Derek say. No one else had ever shared that honor since we’d started dating, and he hadn’t told me he planned to allow that. Maybe it was spontaneous. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but the woman’s lips and the mystery hands felt so good, I didn’t even think about protesting. Besides, I knew what protesting Derek’s plans usually got me, and I wanted to savor the moment.

  I tried to prepare myself for the rush of blood about to flood my tender flattened buds, but you can never truly be ready. That’s part of the thrill of kink for me—the unexpected, the way even the most familiar activity can catch you off guard, make you feel like a virgin all over again as the pain crashes down.

  I felt heady as the woman kissed me deeply, her hands on my cheeks, her perfume invading my senses as my nipples got reacquainted with their freedom. They only had a few moments before someone took one breast in his or her hand and started sucking my nipple. Derek whispered my name in my right ear, a reminder, a warning, a promise. He can make my name sound like the most beautiful aria or the most dreaded epithet, and he knows me well enough to know that in the right circumstances, both of those turn me on.

  Then he was kissing the back of my neck, his lips warm, his stubble brushing my skin. I almost laughed at the sensual overload, my dress still splayed open, leaving my pussy on display, while three sets of lips devoured me. Derek’s tongue brushed lightly against my neck, a tender contrast to the woman’s tongue pressing deep into my mouth and the mouth now sucking deeply on my nipple before biting it just enough to make me gasp.

  “Is she being a good slut for you?” Derek asked, loud enough to surely draw the attention of anyone who hadn’t already been watching us. “You should see what she looks like with a cock in her mouth and one in her pussy. My girl is happy as long as she has something to fill those pretty lips.” No sooner had Derek made that pronouncement than my pussy clenched, making me wonder if I was dripping onto the seat beneath me. The other mouths on me quickly separated from me, leaving my nipple wet and needy, my mouth empty. I rearranged myself as best I could, trapped by the cuffs. I could talk, but what would I ask for? Derek surely knew what I wanted, and I was getting increasingly antsy for him to take me outside and give it to me.

  Instead I felt his fingers, four of them, fucking my mouth, making me focus all my energy on stretching around him. He was showing me off, teasing the crowd, making sure they knew exactly how far my oral charms extended. We weren’t kissing, but I had a feeling that didn’t quite matter by then. We’d already broken a few rules, so perhaps they were ones the crowd had been waiting for to be broken. He kept his fingers in my mouth, but stilled them, so I was left to simply suck and salivate while I listened to the unmistakable sound of him kissing the woman, hearing the same murmurs she’d just made while kissing me. I wondered if he wanted to do more than kiss her, though I would’ve bet money she wanted to do more than kiss him. I could tell from the noises she was making, the whimpers coming from somewhere deep inside.

  “Kiss her again,” Derek said, and soon her lips were pressing hard against me. I pictured his hand on her neck, pushing her against me, mashing our mouths together. “It’s too bad Belinda has to leave soon so I can make sure she gets fucked good and hard. Maybe I’ll have to strap a vibrator inside her next time we attend this party so she can be a little more patient. Give her a hickey as a souvenir,” he ordered gruffly, and in seconds the woman’s mouth was fastened to my neck, biting hard. I shuddered, surprised he’d let anyone else do that to me.

  “Thank you all,” Derek said, before he ushered me to my feet and led me away from the table. I’d thought maybe he’d let me see who I’d been kissing, who’d been touching and sucking my nipples, who’d been watching me. Instead he led me to the doorway and only once I felt the promise of the cool air did he undo the cuffs and take off the blindfold. “Kiss me,” he commanded, his lips warm, sweet and brutal—just the way I like them.

  One newly freed hand found its way to his cock, hard and warm beneath his pants. “I’m not done with you,” he told me, as he led me out the door. Now I could see, and hold his hand, but a part of me was still floating, caught up in the high of being on display, being kissed and sucked and used, but only being able to return a fraction of those touches. We quickly reached an alley he seemed to know well, leading me far enough from the street that we couldn’t be seen unless someone walked directly past.

  “Stand right there,” Derek ordered, and lest I expect to keep my mobility, he raised my arms above my head and refastened the cuffs. “Put your arms around my neck.” We just fit, him pressed tight against me as he lifted my dress and shoved his fingers inside me. I buried my face in his neck as he fucked me, more ready than I’d realized. In no time I was trembling against him, grateful for the extra support of the wall behind me and his body pressed right up against mine. He kissed me roughly, stealing my breath for a few moments as I came against his fingers, which he quickly withdrew. He undid my arms from his neck and clamped his hand over my mouth as I kept on trembling. I was still so wet and open,
and when he let me taste myself on his fingers, I hoped he’d give me his cock next.

  But when I’m tied up, when I’m cuffed, when I can’t move, Derek likes to make sure I’m fully aware of exactly whose control I’m under. I knew he’d probably love to fuck me right there, pound me into the wall, let my bare ass brush against its coldness, but instead he rearranged me so my bare breasts were hanging out, my dress barely more than a wispy decoration.

  With my arms clamped in front of me and my tits hanging between them, he pushed me to my knees, my legs tucked under me, wet slit pressed against my calves. I watched him take out his cock. I immediately stuck out my tongue, hungry to taste him, but even that he wanted to deny me. “I know you wish everyone from the party were here to watch you suck my cock, but they’re not. Nobody’s here to see what I’m about to do to you.” He stroked his cock slowly, teasing me by bringing it so close to my outstretched tongue, letting its dripping head brush once against me before stepping just out of reach. I put my tongue back in my mouth. He hovered over me, aiming his dick right at my tits. It didn’t take long before he was groaning, covering my breasts, my cuffs, my fingers and my dress with his come.

  He scooped some up and fed it to me, then pulled me up by my joined wrists before unbuckling them. I knew full well he knew I always carry wipes in my purse, but he didn’t offer to let me get one out. Instead he took my face gently in one hand and kissed me, while twisting one nipple with the other. He kept kissing me even as he undid the cuffs, tossing them on the ground before returning to greet my lips with his. His sweet, soft kiss combined with his harsh grip, even with his cream coating me, had me aching to touch myself again. With Derek, though, I don’t need to be tied up to know when I’m allowed to move. If he wanted me to touch myself, he’d tell me to. Instead I kissed him back until he was done, then covered myself as best I could. He let me put on a sweater and led me to a taxi.