Tie Me Up

by Cathryn Cooper

  After that I became a teacher. I showed him how to use his fingers and his tongue to give me pleasure, and let him explore my body while I played with his. He was like a kid in a sweetshop.

  We fucked twice more. The final time, I got on top and rode him, and I came twice before he reached his orgasm.

  Finally he fell into an exhausted sleep. I dragged my body off the bed, took the syringe from the tray, and gave him an injection.

  I opened the cupboard and took out the steel chain and handcuff. I checked the wall fastening, made sure the chain had no tangles that would prevent him reaching the bathroom, and clipped the cuff to his wrist.

  Then I staggered upstairs to another hot shower, more whisky, and my bed.

  That was three weeks ago, and now it’s our last night.

  He looks so vulnerable, asleep on the bed with the chain draped across him.

  David was very upset when he realised he was a prisoner, but, like the others, he soon came around.

  After he realised that yelling and screaming weren’t going to help – the bedroom is soundproofed – he tried attacking me.

  Sadly, I had to hurt him. It only happened twice. The second time I hurt him rather badly.

  Since then he’s been docile, and the drugs have kept him very, very horny. He has learned an awful lot about how to keep a woman happy.

  It took me a while before I got the drug combination right, but there’s a lot of information on the Internet.

  Anyway, he deserves one last treat; I’ll wake him up with a glass of champers and a nice slow blow-job. It’ll be easy to give him his last injection just after he comes.

  Maid To Misbehave

  by Stephen Albrow

  Madeleine glanced up and down the street before entering the sex shop, nervous of anyone she knew seeing her visiting such insalubrious premises; terrified, too, of what she would find behind the mysterious dark blue door. Her only other visit to a sex shop had been during a weekend trip to Amsterdam, where her husband had dragged her through a neon-lit doorway. That store had been full of dirty-looking men rifling through racks of hardcore magazines, but she sensed this one would be more her style. Not only was it labelled an erotic boutique, but also it sold some high-quality products, judging by the beautifully tailored French maid’s outfit she’d spotted in the window.

  She’d first seen the uniform three weeks earlier, but it had taken her all that time to pluck up the courage to enter the boutique. She passed the store on her way to and from work each day, but had never seen anyone come or go, all of which added to its sense of mystery and foreboding.

  The windows were blacked out behind a colourful display of lingerie, so there was no way of knowing what it was like inside. Taking her courage in both hands, she entered.

  Seated behind the counter was a dark-haired girl, with kohl-rimmed eyes and crimson lips. Her hair was pulled back away from her face and tied into a ponytail, which dangled down her back like the train of a whip. She was flicking through a magazine, and she didn’t look up. Glad of this, Madeleine hurried to the nearest rack of lingerie.

  The girl’s presence was intimidating, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

  Shielded by a row of corsets and basques, Madeleine took a furtive glance around the store. Most of the stock consisted of leatherwear, sex toys and erotic lingerie, rather than the hordes of magazines and XXX DVDs that were popular with the raincoat brigade. She felt relieved to be the only customer, but at the same time it unnerved her.

  Her heartbeat drummed against her ribcage, as she tried to pinpoint the French maid’s uniform, keen to buy it and get out of there as fast as she could.

  She tried to move quietly but the laminate flooring was unforgiving. The click of her heels echoed loudly round the otherwise completely silent store.

  The store assistant looked up from her magazine, frowning as though annoyed to be distracted from her reading. Like many shop assistants, she didn’t ask if Madeleine needed any help. She just stared at the customer; her dark eyes widening, fixing Madeleine with a look of contempt.

  For a second Madeleine thought about leaving, but she had to get what she’d gone there for.

  She remembered how she’d felt the first time she’d spotted the outfit. It had unlocked something within her, giving body and soul to fantasies that had been floating vaguely around her head since she was 19 or 20. She’d always had a secret urge to wear that uniform, and to see what affect it would have on her husband. Sex between them had been boring of late, in fact almost non-existent. But maybe the outfit would trigger something – the sub-dom role-play she’d always craved.

  I’ve wanted this for ages , she thought, worried it might be her last chance to change things. It wasn’t easy bringing up the subject of bondage eight years into a marriage, but the new uniform would be a talking point, so perhaps it was the answer.

  Ignoring the shop girl’s disgruntled expression, Madeleine approached the counter. She felt the flush of a newfound determination, but it vanished when the shop girl rose from her chair.

  Madeline stared. The girl was six feet tall in her stockinged feet, only she wasn’t in her stockinged feet – she was wearing thigh-high boots with six-inch heels.

  Madeleine, who had come straight from the office in her kitten heels looked up open-mouthed. But it wasn’t just her height that was overwhelming. Her legs were endless and her torso voluptuous, with full breasts and graceful hips. Her tight, clingy rubber mini-dress had a daringly plunging neckline. It was shrink-wrapped to her, tighter than a corset, emphasising her hourglass shape.

  ‘Yes?’ said the shop girl, rather than asking if she could be of help.

  ‘I’d like to try on the French maid’s outfit.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really.’

  ‘We can sort that out,’ she said.

  She stepped from behind the counter and walked to the window.

  Madeleine watched, determined not to run. Her stomach churned nervously as she worried about exactly what she was getting herself into.

  The shop girl was suddenly all action, hurrying back with the outfit.

  ‘Get changed in there.’ She pointed to a curtained cubicle in the corner of the store. The way she said it made it sound like an order, but Madeleine didn’t mind being bossed about, since it helped remove any doubt from her mind. Just as seeing the French maid’s outfit in the window seemed to have unlocked her latent submissiveness, so something about this tall, beautiful, rubber-clad shop girl was doing just the same.

  Happy to obey, Madeleine entered the cubicle, drew the curtain and then took off her work clothes. There was a mirror on the nearside wall, so she held the uniform against her body, smiling as the soft, silky fabric touched her skin. She put on the lacy head-dress first, then was about to step into the short, black frock when she heard signs of movement in the boutique. The shop girl’s heels click-clacked on the floor; was that a key being turned in a lock?

  After a moment’s pause, the footsteps resumed, moving steadily in the direction of the changing room. The curtain was yanked back.

  The girl was carrying a pair of frilly panties, two hold up stockings and a pair of high-heels.

  ‘You will wear these.’ She dumped the items onto the changing room floor.

  ‘I’ve got a pair of tights on already.’

  ‘You will wear these!’

  The girl drew the curtain back across, then commanded Madeleine to hurry up. The matter wasn’t up for discussion. Madeleine would wear what she was ordered to wear. And she wanted to.

  Bewildered but carried away by the other-worldliness of it all, she removed her tights and knickers. It was a curious moment, because, as she took her knickers off, she realised how moist she was.

  Experiencing excitement and concern in equal measure, she pulled on the satin panties. The fancy frills made her bum look extra curvy, and were sure to look incredibly sexy when she bent over in her tiny maid’s dress. She eased the
stockings on next, the sensuous fabric caressing her upper thighs, then finally it was time to don the outfit of her dreams. Such a perfect fit! The tight bodice top helped to push up her generous cleavage, while the saucy pleated skirt, complete with lace-trimmed apron, fell an inch below her stocking tops.

  After slipping her feet into the high-heel shoes, she caught sight of her reflection. The uniform offered her the chance to become a totally different person for an hour or two. She hoped her husband would see the change in her, but first she’d find out what the shop girl thought.

  She drew back the curtain and posed. ‘How do I look?’ She bent over so the dress rode up and flashed the girl her stocking tops and panties.

  ‘You look like a slut,’ the girl replied, her gaze transfixed by the maid’s frilly panties. She spoke jokily at first, but then her eyes seemed to harden. ‘And sluts deserve to be punished,’ she yelled, her chilling manner sending an icy shiver down Madeleine’s spine.

  The girl stepped behind the counter and fetched the chair on which she’d been sitting. She commanded her to lie across it. Madeline glanced across at the door. The ‘Open’ sign had been turned to ‘Closed.’

  ‘But you made me wear the slutty panties and stockings,’ argued Madeleine, suddenly feeling out of her depth.

  Her heartbeat doubled, her stomach churned and her body now felt extremely vulnerable. The skimpy uniform left much of her flesh exposed, not least the highly spankable zone between her stocking tops and panties.

  ‘Lie across the chair, you slut,’ screamed the girl, walking to a nearby shelf. The boutique was a dominatrix’s paradise, since there were restraints and punishment tools dotted everywhere. The girl picked up a length of cord and a long rubber baton. She waved it through the air.

  Stirred into action, Madeleine lay across the chair, her bottom poking up in the air. The girl knelt down beside her, then used the length of cord to tie the French maid’s body to the wooden chair. She pulled the cord tight, then made six more loops, only stopping once Madeline was securely trussed up. Even her arms were bound up with her torso, rendering her absolutely helpless.

  As the girl stood up, Madeleine wriggled, testing to see if there was any give in the cord.

  The six-foot-tall girl stood in front of her, her legs slightly apart, allowing Madeleine to look up her rubber mini-dress. She wore no knickers and her sex lips were glistening.

  ‘Only sluts like French maid outfits,’ said the girl, her lips curled into a malicious sneer. She started circling Madeleine’s body, the dagger-like heels of her thigh-boots beating a menacing tattoo on the laminate floor.

  Madeleine knew she was going to be beaten with the baton, but the girl seemed determined to keep her waiting, knowing the delay would set her already frazzled nerves even further on edge. The ominous sense of foreboding was almost too much for the captive maid to bear, so she raised her buttocks a little higher, as if imploring the girl to get the punishment started.

  ‘Such an eager little slut,’ said the shop girl, as she delivered the blow that Madeleine craved. The rubber baton struck the mid-point between her stocking tops and panties, sending a twinge of pain through her sensitive flesh. She had often dreamed of role-play, and had always assumed it to be a playful thing, but the girl’s opening strike made it clear that this punishment was being played out for real. The second blow was no less certain, the thwack of the baton against Madeleine’s thigh causing a fractured howl to burst from her lips.

  ‘Silence, slut!’

  The baton was raised again. She trained a blow on Madeleine’s buttocks, but it was cushioned by the lacy panties. The shop girl pulled them down.

  With her cheeks uncovered, the shop girl dealt out blow after blow.

  Madeleine imagined the bright red marks all over her behind. She howled, and would have writhed in agony were her body not bound so tight by the cord. The girl was taking her right to the brink with the unrelenting force of the beating, but for all the agonising, torturous pain, something positive was happening – a rich, warm glow was building in her sex.

  ‘You really are a slut,’ said the girl as she swung her arm forward. As the rigid rubber shaft met her soft, smooth buttocks, Madeleine threw back her head and roared. But this time it wasn’t a howl of pain – this time it was a cry of pleasure! Being bound and beaten by the gorgeous young shop girl was fulfilling her inner urges like never before.

  The beating was painful, but Madeleine knew she needed it, just as she’d known she had to wear the French maid’s uniform. Something very deep inside was being brought closer to the surface with each new blow from the rubber baton.

  It was hard to admit, even to herself, but she loved the way she was being dominated; loved being treated like a sexual toy; loved being punished for the worthless slut she knew she was. The shop girl was young, tall, beautiful and domineering, which made her superior in every way.

  ‘I am unworthy of you, Mistress,’ Madeleine said, the admission like music to the shop girl’s ears. She was about to deliver a further strike, but now she stood before the maid, instead. She hitched her dress up and pressed her sex into Madeleine’s face.

  ‘Prove to me you can be worthy,’ said the girl.

  Madeleine knew what was required. She began to kiss her pussy. She tasted the juices on the girl’s pink lips, saw the pink velvet flesh rich with fluid.

  Madeleine licked and sucked, her feathery touch making the shop girl groan. ‘Good slut,’ said the girl, leaning over Madeleine’s trussed-up torso, the baton gripped within her hand. Madeleine steeled herself for a burst of pain, but the rubber length didn’t strike her arse – it pressed between her cunt lips instead. She gasped, as its hardness entered her, but quickly regained composure, her lips surrounding the shop girl’s slit. The girl was pumping the baton back and forth; Madeleine returned the compliment. She tongue-fucked the shop girl’s sticky cunt in perfect rhythm with the baton’s thrusts.

  A fierce wave of tension flooded Madeleine’s pussy, as the rigid length powered to and fro. Her insides spasmed round the rubber shaft, which was sparking tingles of pleasure over eight-inches deep inside her body. She felt grateful to have a mistress who was willing to grant her these moments of joy, and was determined to pay her back in full. So she stuck out her tongue as far as she could, reaching deep inside the shop girl’s cunt, then she licked with passion, forcefully, devotedly, till she felt the sticky juice shower her face.

  As the rapid tongue-thrusts brought the shop girl to a climax, so the baton began to pick up speed. It plunged deep between Madeleine’s gaping lips, waking up every nerve ending inside her hole, and the extra sensation was enough to send her spiralling into a blissful orgasm. Her pussy muscles contracted hard, then the excess tension made her scream, but not for long, because she was too keen to lick up more of the shop girl’s luscious cream. A sticky spray of come wet her cheeks and chin, as her tongue re-entered the girl’s pulsing gash. Then the baton came to a halt inside her, as the girl threw her head back and screamed.

  Madeleine watched, as a jolt of electric tension coursed through the shop girl’s body. She clasped her breasts, pumping her pussy back and forth, making her lips slid all over Madeleine’s face.

  The girl was overwhelmed with pleasure, and Madeleine felt just the same, but her body couldn’t twist and writhe like hers, thanks to the cord that bound her to the chair.

  This final sign of the shop girl’s dominance added further fuel to Madeleine’s orgasmic fire. Her submissive immobility, her sweet surrender, made her pussy muscles pulse and thump; made a torrent of sex-juice rush through her tunnel. The baton was still pressed deep between her cunt lips, and closing her eyes, she imagined it to be her husband’s tumescent cock. If her maid’s uniform could stir in him the same kind of dominant passion it had stirred in the shop girl, then their love life had a chance to blossom again. He could be master to his lowly slave.

  ‘I’ll take the uniform,’ Madeleine said, her body still aglow with climact
ic joy.

  ‘And the panties, heels and stockings?’

  ‘Yes, everything,’ said Madeleine. ‘The cord, as well. And the rubber baton.’ She wanted to be able to recreate everything exactly as it had been. That way she could relive and recapture the same incredible orgasmic high

  The shop girl smiled. She had managed to make her sale, but she didn’t go rushing to the cash register. She kept her smooth shaved lips pressed tight to Madeleine’s face.

  ‘More,’ she said.

  Madeleine knew what she meant.

  Eager to serve, and to keep on exploring the submissive side of her nature, she kissed the shop girl’s pussy. It was dripping wet, which delighted her since it was proof of the shop girl’s intense satisfaction.

  The French maid’s outfit felt right on her. No, more than that, it belonged on her, as the shop girl had been quick to notice. Now, hopefully, her husband would be equally intuitive, and by seeing Madeleine in the uniform, he would pick up on her deep-seated need to serve and obey. If so, it was a chance for them to start afresh, an opportunity to experiment with something new. Oh, the fun they would have, as the powerful master dished out orders to his pretty maid! Oh, the greater fun when she failed to complete them and had to be punished for her errant ways!

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