Tie Me Up

by Cathryn Cooper

  He’d be fucking me slow but hard, and squeezing whichever bits of me he could reach. Maybe he’d tell me to beg him to fuck me faster or tell him how much I liked being fucked and if I didn’t comply quickly enough he’d slap my arse until I did what he said. After a while he’d stop with his cock as deep as possible inside me then he’d work the vibrator on my clit until he could feel me coming before thrusting into me some more. He’d tell me what a slut I must be to be coming like that when I’d been begging him to stop, and I’d be so hungry for more that I would scream my agreement.

  After a while he’d turn me over and show me just how hard he can fuck me, slapping my arse while he rammed that fantastic cock deep into me, not letting me move except to push back against him, reaching under to grab and squeeze my tits or to rub my clit until I was completely helpless and could do nothing but come over and over again while he rode into me hard and fast and furious for as long as he could hold out before he came too and collapsed on top of me completely spent… well almost completely, he’d still have just enough energy to untie me and hold me and kiss me and let me know just how glad he was to be home.

  Picket Fence

  by Sommer Marsden

  Nick found the Polaroid camera while we were doing our Spring cleaning. We had devoted our entire Sunday to lightening our household load. He waved it around with a grin. “Think they still make film for these things?”

  I glanced up from a box stuffed full of knick knacks that I hadn’t seen since I packed them. When we moved in, they went directly under the bed to be dealt with later. I wouldn’t even unpack the box. The whole thing was going straight to charity.

  “Actually, they do. I was at the pharmacy the other day and they had it hanging behind the counter. I guess enough people still have them that they continue to make film. Why?”

  “Just curious,” he said still grinning. Then he started holding up items from an old bag of clothes.

  “Ditch it… ditch it… ditch it…” I sighed. “Put them all back in the bag and give the whole bag away.”

  “What if there’s something good in here?” he joked, tying the bag closed.

  “If we don’t miss it, we don’t need it. Time to get the clutter out of here. Then we can paint and redo the floor and actually have a home. Not a messy fixer-upper. A home.”

  Nick nodded and smiled. “Fine. But I’m keeping the camera.”

  “Keep the camera,” I laughed. “I don’t care.”

  Then I forgot about it.

  Two days later he called me at work to tell me not to cook. He’d be picking up dinner. Fine by me. Any night I can eat without cooking is a fine night in my opinion.

  When I got home, I poured myself a glass of wine and settled on the sofa, relishing the freedom from figuring out what was for dinner. He came through the door a few minutes later with a takeout bag in one hand and a small paper bag in the other.

  “What’s for dinner?” I asked, sipping my wine.

  “Charlie’s Bistro. We have roasted chicken, corn pudding, fresh bread and steamed green beans.”

  I loved Charlie’s. The best take out around. There food was like mom’s home cooking. Or in the case of my mom, better. “And?” I knew him too well.

  “And just because I love you, half of a Sin Cake. I pointed to the one with the extra chocolate shavings on the top. Do I take care of you, or what?” Nick walked into the dining room and set the bag on the table. “Don’t you want to know what’s in the other bag?” he called.

  “I hadn’t even give the other bag a thought,” I teased, following him. “Once you mentioned Sin Cake my brain short circuited.”

  I unpacked the bag from Charlie’s and revelled in all the tasty smells. Nick shook the little paper bag at me. OK, I would play.

  “A pregnancy test?” I said, reading the name on the bag. It was from the pharmacy up the street. “Are you pregnant?”

  “Nope. Try again?”

  “Condoms? That would be a waste of money, though, with me on the pill.” I popped open the chicken container and then the containers of side dishes.

  “Nope.”

  “I give up,” I sighed. I was starving and ready to eat. No more ‘what’s in the bag’ game for me.

  Nick tossed me the small bag and I barely caught it. I peeked inside and was instantly confused. “Film?”

  “Polaroid film,” Nick corrected, filling our plates with food.

  “How very exciting for you,” I laughed. “You bought film. For an ancient camera. Did you forget that we own a top of the line digital?”

  “Of course not,” he said softly and then handed me my plate. “But digital doesn’t have the panache of the old Polaroids. All vibrant inside their little white borders.”

  “Ooh-kay. So what’s it for?”

  “I’m going to take your picture,” he said.

  As we sat and ate on the sofa and sipped our wine, he wouldn’t say anything more. He was going to take my picture. No matter how much I bugged him he would only shake his head, smile and say, “later”.

  When later finally came, I was on my third glass of wine. I was feeling no pain and in a rather relaxed mood. No dinner dishes to do. Nothing to do but settle in for the night with my husband. My kind of evening. Nick came out with the camera and slid the large film clip into the slot. Then he looked at me and said, “Take your blouse off.”

  “What?!” That woke me up. My warm wine buzz flitted out of reach. I stared at him. Certainly he wasn’t serious.

  “You heard me, Noel. Take your blouse off.”

  “How much have you had to drink?” I laughed nervously. I felt very uncomfortable but way down deep, I noted, I was also feeling sort of… turned on.

  “One glass of wine. That’s it. Come on, babe. Play with me. Take your blouse off.” He stood patiently. Waiting.

  “Fine.” I proceeded to unbutton each of the tiny white buttons on my silk blouse. I pulled it off and laid it on the sofa. My hands shook a little as I did it.

  “Now the bra.”

  “Nick-”

  “Just do it, babe.”

  I did. I unhooked my bra and pulled it off slowly, watching his face the whole time. His expression was a mix of excitement and intensity. I laid my lacy white bra on top of my proper white blouse and straightened my spine. My nipples were dusky hard peaks but I would not comment on that. It could be the temperature change. It did not mean I was aroused by this odd shift in evening routine.

  “There.” I said almost petulantly.

  “Thank you,” Nick said. This time he gave me a small, reassuring smile. “Now hold them in your hands. Hold those beautiful tits in those elegant hands.”

  A shiver ran through me and I obeyed. His words and requests were so strange, but also intoxicating. I hefted my breasts in my hands, letting my fingertips stray over my deep pink nipples. His commands and my capitulation serving to heighten the pleasurable sensation. Excitement coursed through me, shooting straight to my sex.

  Nick made a small sound and raised the camera. The flash was blinding, the noise so loud after having grown used to the quiet ways of a digital camera. The photo ejected like a broad, square tongue. Nick pulled it out, set it on the side table and watched me. Just to torture him, I lifted my breast to my lips and sucked my own nipple.

  His voice hoarse, he said, “Now the skirt, Noel.”

  I stood, unzipped the side zipper of my work skirt and let it fall. I stood there, suddenly sure of myself in my black panties, garter and hose. Another flash, another whine. The second photo shot out of the camera. He set it with the first and nodded. He didn’t have to tell me. I unhooked the hose, rolled them down and placed them with my other clothes. Next the garter. I folded it in half slowly and then turned to add it to the pile.

  Flash. Whine. A third picture had been taken.

  “Nothing like that perfect ass in a nice pair of black, lace panties,” my husband said.

  When I turned he gave me another nod and I shucked the p
anties. Completely nude I stood before him. He took the fourth picture and then eyed me warily. He seemed a little unsure. What would he ask me to do now?

  “Lay back on the sofa for me, baby. Spread your legs.”

  I did and the flash blinded me yet again. I wondered what the photo looked like. I could feel my cunt swollen and wet. How did it look? Rosy red with shades of pink? Did it look as engorged and slick as it felt? Did my arousal show up on film? Were there glistening slicks of my own fluid between my thighs? I sighed and without him asking, ran a finger along the seam of my cunt. I rubbed my fingertip along the hard knot of my clit and shuddered.

  Flash. Whine. The fifth picture ejected with a triumphant sound.

  I slid two of my fingers into my cunt and flexed them, pushing and probing. I stroked my G-spot and continued to stroke my clit. My pussy clenched around my fingers and I arched my back to stroke deeper. I heard Nick take the sixth picture and when the flash flickered I came, contorting on the sofa as spasm after spasm coursed through me.

  Then he was on me. Discarding his work pants and shirt. His face dark and serious. He still held the camera and he set it on the back of the sofa as he pushed my legs up and settled the swollen head of his cock against my opening.

  “You are beautiful. Gorgeous. Thank you,” he was almost babbling as he thrust into me.

  I was still feeling the effects of my first orgasm. My husband’s swollen cock sliding into me, stretching and filling me was enough to make me hum my pleasure against his warm shoulder.

  “My pleasure,” I sighed and laughed.

  Nick fucked me slowly at first. Drawing out almost all the way only to slide slowly back in to the root of his cock. He pushed into me slowly but thrust high inside my cunt. I would come again, I could feel it already. Then he pulled half way out, propped on one arm and aimed the camera at our bodies where they joined.

  “I want you to see this the way I see it,” he murmured and then pressed the button. Without removing the photo he set the camera back down and began to fuck me in earnest.

  His movements grew faster and jerkier. His breath tearing in and out of him loudly. I pushed up against him, after flashes going off behind my closed eyelids. In my mind’s ear I could hear the camera capturing what I had done. When he stiffened against me and came with a groan, I came right along with him. My pussy sucking eagerly at what he had to give.

  We laid there listening to the silence for a few minutes. No sounds but our breathing. When I could stand it any longer, I swatted him playfully on the shoulder.

  “Enough of this. Let me see them!”

  When I flipped through the stiff little photos, was both surprised and pleased. They were beautiful. Sexy. Raunchy in a classy sort of way. I handed them back. “Nick, my face isn’t in any of them.”

  “I know.” He opened the side table drawer and put the pictures inside.

  “You don’t like my face,” I teased, but I was half serious. Not a single photo showed me above the neck.

  “I love your face. Your face is beautiful, you know I think you are beautiful. All of you. Head, body, brain, soul.” He smiled and kissed me.

  “Then why?”

  “There’s a very good reason.” That’s all he would say.

  The following day, I came home to another take out bag on the dining room table. The Archer. I smelled roast beef. I smiled and headed to the kitchen for a drink. I found Nick at the large kitchen window that overlooks our backyard. Backyard is a stretch, really. It’s more like a post card sized swatch of grass and a small concrete patio that has gate access to the wide alley that runs the length of our block. On the far side of the alley, the county had put up a tall picket fence to block off the small area of woods beyond. It looked like Nick was staring at the fence.

  I poured a glass of wine and walked up, resting my head on his shoulder. “What are we looking at?”

  “Them,” Nick said. His eyes met mine for a second and I detected a tiny flicker of what looked like fear.

  I looked out to see four men standing in the alley. They were spaced several feet apart, each gazing at a section of the fence. I saw tiny squares, so tiny from my vantage point, I couldn’t make out what they were.

  “And why are we looking at them looking at the fence. Or whatever’s on the fence. What is on the fence?”

  “You are on the fence,” my husband said and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close.

  “What?” I yelled and stiffened under his arm. I tried to pull free of him but he pulled me closer and held me tight.

  “Before you get all upset, just listen to me.”

  I was torn between punching him in the forehead and staring at the men who were in the alley gazing at my naked body… and me touching myself… and my husband fucking me!

  “I don’t think there’s anything you could say to make me not want to kill you right now,” I hissed.

  “OK, then just watch them.”

  I turned my attention to the gathering below while I fumed. I wanted to march out and tear them all down and shoo away the perverts staring at me, but I knew that would give away that I was the object of their attention. So, I watched instead. The tallest man reached out and touched his fingertip to a photo. Just a fingertip. Then he withdrew it and stuck his hands in his pockets. I wondered if he was fondling himself through his pocket as I had seen men do. A hot white spark of excitement rolled through my belly and my face burned with shame. Now who was the pervert?

  “Watch him,” Nick said, pointing to the small dark man closest to us. I watched fascinated as he first touched himself through his khakis, and then, to my surprise, unzipped his pants.

  “He’s…” I trailed off as he pulled his stiff cock from his pants and started to beat off. His hand a blur over the purplish flesh of his member. He stared straight ahead at whatever picture he was viewing and continued to stroke himself ferociously.

  Fluid flooded into my panties and I shifted my stance, trying not to show exactly what this was doing to me. There was no way I would give Nick’s betrayal any kind of approval.

  “He’s in his own little world,” Nick sighed, running his hand over my bottom absent-mindedly. I shifted my footing again as his gentle touch added to what I was feeling inside. “He’s locked there. Him, his dick, and you.” Then he turned to me and touched my hair. “This is why your face isn’t in there, Noel. I’ve wanted to… share you for a very long time. I didn’t’ know how. Then I figured this out.”

  “And?” I tried to keep my voice steady, angry. How dare he without asking me first? But his soft words and obvious sincerity loosened some of the tight anger in my chest.

  “And their reaction is just like my reaction is when it comes to you. How it has always been when it comes to you.” He turned his attention back to the men so I did the same. Just in time to see the man who was so oblivious to anything but my image come in long, ropey white streams. Nick sighed.

  “And what’s the reaction?” I asked. Fascinated, I watched his come coat his hand and drip, as if in slow motion, to the alley floor.

  “You’re like a drug. To me, being with you is as high as I can get. They’re only feeling a small part of what I feel every day.”

  Forgetting my anger and my urge to hide my arousal, I slid up against him. I watched as another man, not as brave as the one who had just brought himself to orgasm, stroked his erection through his slacks. I pushed my hips against Nicks and quickly he got behind me. He yanked up my skirt and pushed down my panties. I heard his zipper and it only increased my need and urgency.

  Then he thrust up into me, my upper body pinned against the thick glass of the window. I braced myself, face and breasts smashed against the cool, smooth surface. He fucked me fast, both of us watching out the window as my pilgrims stared and touched and stroked. Nick reached around and gave my engorged clit a few slippery strokes and I came so loud I sobbed on my own release.

  He stayed in me, growing softer inside my body. We watched quietl
y, panting in the dimming light, as they filed off one by one. When Nick pulled his cock from me and smoothed my skirt back down over my hips, the final one walked off.

  “Why didn’t they take them?” I asked.

  “I have no idea. Maybe they’re afraid if they do, there wont’ be any more.” He stared at me and hesitantly asked, “Will there be any more?”

  “Let’s eat and we’ll think about it.”

  Our next photo-shoot was in the basement. Nick had always wanted to tie me up and he asked rather shyly if he could. I agreed. The thought of more photos of a second pilgrimage of men to our back alley was enough to rev me up. The thought of being bound forced my pulse into a high, faltering gait.

  “This is perfect,” Nick said, running his fingers over the headboard of an antique bed.

  The bed had been in my family for years but it wasn’t my style. The brass scrollwork was oxidized and overly feminine for my taste. It had been propped on end against the basement wall since we moved in. I looked at it in a whole new light now. Standing on end it was taller than me. Maybe a little more than six feet tall. The intricate scrollwork was perfect for looping bonds through. I pressed my back up against it and put my wrists to either side of my head. Nick stared for a moment.

  “Put them out to the sides more. That way I can capture your bound hands but not your face,” he said softly. I did, spreading my arms like wings.

  Nick bound one wrist with a bright paisley scarf. The other with a black scarf. The feel of the silk sliding against my skin, pressing the tops of my wrists to the cold brass worked a shiver through me. My nipples stood out from my own excitement and the chill of the basement.

  “Spread your ankles wide,” he muttered, bending down between my legs.

  I wondered for a moment if a rush of fluid would escape my body when I did. I was growing wetter by the second. I spread my legs wide and watched him fasten first one ankle, then the other. I stared at my left ankle encased in yellow silk, my right bound with purple. When he raised his head and smiled, I smiled back. Then he lowered his face to my parted thighs and pushed his tongue warmly between my damp folds. I threw my head back and moaned. I was so worked up that one slow drag from his tongue sent the muscles in my belly galloping.