“Food is getting cold.”
“We like cold food,” Remmy hollered back, giggling.
“You're going to get it…” Jim said, half to himself as he opened another beer.
When the two guests came downstairs, they were dressed as a pair of very sexy dolls, each with enough make-up and accessories to convince anyone that they were either renegades from some off Broadway play or professional hookers. Jim sat in his den, wearing only an old pair of plaid boxer shorts that he had trouble holding up because he had lost weight and the elastic waistband on the shorts was worn out.
“Well, Master, whadaya think?” Meg asked Jim, striking a pose in the living room doorway with her partner at her side, holding her leash. Both girls wore sleeveless, rubber leotard-cut tops with no bra, fishnet hose, black high heels with at least five-inch spikes, elbow length fishnet gloves and nothing else. The tops had deep plunging V necklines that reached nearly to their crotch and high cut sides that displayed long legs, smooth thighs and ninety percent of their well-formed asses. There was little left to the imagination and the hardened nipples pressing outward against the thin latex nicely accented the pair of breasts that jiggled just enough when they moved to convince the observer that there was some small, round animal trapped behind the shiny rubber, trying mightily to get free. Just Meg's talking and breathing seemed to encourage the creatures on her chest to struggle more. Meg's arms were behind her back and as she turned slowly, Jim saw that her elbows were strapped closely together, bringing her lower arms parallel. Her wrists also had a double wound strap holding them against her buttocks. The effect of the strapped elbows only served to thrust her tits out even further than they already would have been and was a nice bonus to Jim's vision. They both wore a pair of leather hobbles on their ankles, but with a few extra links in the chain so that they could at least shuffle along at slow speed without tripping. Around their necks were ordinary ball gags, seemingly just waiting to be stashed in their mouths.
Jim unconsciously held his breath. He didn't know what to say. The women had, at this point, taken control.
“Ah…very, very nice,” he finally said. “What have you done with Sandy, or shouldn't I even ask?”
“Oh,” said Remmy. “I think she has a date with the rack. We thought she could use some stretching.”
“We?” Jim asked, still recovering from the scene before him. Meg was still slowly rotating, pivoting on her heels, thrusting out her tits towards him each time she turned around, giving Jim the side and front angles and also giving him an instant hard-on.
“Us,” said Remmy, her voice a bit lower and rougher than usual. “We thought you should spend some time with us, so Sandy's otherwise occupied.”
“Fine, fine,” said Jim. “Why don't you sit down…or better yet, do you want some barbeque? I picked up three different kinds of meals, not knowing what anyone felt like.
“No food for me. I can't sit down,” chirped Remmy. “There are these long, fat things up my butt and puss. I sit and they drive me nuts.”
“I see,” said Jim, although he could not see anything more than what might have been the edges of a very closely trimmed bush at the apex of Remmy's smooth thighs where the thin band of latex disappeared up the cleft of her backside. “By the way, did you two scamps manage to get the questionnaire filled out?”
“Yes Sir, Mister Fix-It Man, Sir,” snapped Meg, bringing her heels together and coming to attention. “The report is, ah, right here in the top of my suit ready for your inspection, Sir.” Remmy grinned and nodded towards Meg's heaving chest.
“I'd get it for you, Sir,” Remmy said, still snickering. “But as you can see, I don't really have the hands for it.”
“So I noticed,” said Jim. “I'll help myself. Besides, I'd like to know how you got yourselves so well fixed up. If Sandy is on the rack…”
“Oh, she certainly is…” interrupted Remmy.
“If Sandy is on the rack,” Jim persisted, “how did you two get strapped up?”
“We are quite accomplished at this sort of thing, Sir,” said Meg. “We did each other. And we've been doing it for quite awhile. We often just hang around the house like this, waiting to see which one of us will break first.”
“It's always me,” confessed Remmy, bowing slightly from the waist. “Weak bladder, I guess. She, on the other hand, can go longer than a camel.”
“I think you have your metaphors mixed up, but I get the idea,” said Jim. “You really did a nice job. How come you're the only one with, ah, shall I say internal devices?” he pointed to Remmy.
“She,” said Remmy, nodding to Meg, “had other needs.”
“So you subdued Sandy and then each other?”
“It takes us awhile, but it works, as you can see,” said Meg happily.”The straps on the wrists could perhaps be a bit tighter, but everything else is neatly packaged for your pleasure.”
Jim was busy fishing out the folded pieces of paper tucked neatly under each of Meg's large, round breasts and he made sure to none too discreetly check on their authenticity as he removed the papers which were inside a zip lock baggie. The package was so well arranged that even with the thin latex of the suit covering them, he had not noticed the baggie there. He opened the bag and took out the two sheets of paper. Meg stepped forward and kissed him on the mouth. Hard. As Jim tried to pull away, Meg clamped her teeth onto his lower lip, biting just hard enough so that Jim couldn't remove his trapped lip.
“Ah…Meg!” Jim said, as firmly as he could with his mouth partly blocked. “Leth go. Pleaseth.”
“Uh, uh,” said Meg softly, and saying that, she pushed Jim over backwards. He fell easily because Remmy was bent over, kneeling on the floor, directly behind him. As Jim went down, Meg released her tooth hold on his lip and stepped between his legs, her own hobbled ankles spread as wide as possible. Remmy collapsed under him and all three went down softly in a squirming pile of fishnet, rubber and Jim.
“Alright. That's enough,” Jim said, trying to get up. But Remmy was under him, tugging at his boxer shorts with her bound hands and Meg was on top, pressed between his legs, rubbing his crotch with its already active hard-on.
“Oh, come on Jimmy,” Meg cooed, rubbing harder against the exposed area at the top of his thighs. “You owe us a little comp time. When was the last time you had two like us at once?”
“Not recently,” Jim said a bit lamely, still trying to disentangle himself from the two sturdy women who were struggling, despite their bonds, to get his shorts off. In the end, Remmy, with her strapped arms, just pulled so hard that the elastic waistband broke and she tore the wash-worn plaid shorts off his body.
Meg was on him in an instant, sliding her body down and taking his already hard cock into her sweet mouth. Behind him, Remmy tossed the torn shorts into the corner and wiggled around, repositioning herself with gymnastic skill, so that she was now facing his back and slowly kissing and biting his neck. “Do as she says, Jimmy,” said Remmy. “She bites if she doesn't get what she wants.”
“Open the leotard, please,” Meg said quietly.
“How?” Jim asked, fumbling around behind her with both hands, trying to find the way to remove the thin latex panel that was all that separated him from Meg's hot box.
“Behind,” she said, “the Velcro at the base of my spine. Hurry.”
Jim did as he was told. The stretched latex sprung away, leaving Meg's heated sex only an inch or two from Jim's by now rock hard, diamond-cutter. While Remmy rubbed her own rock-hard nipples along his back and foraged his ears, neck and shoulders with her teeth and lips, Meg slid her hips upward and engulfed Jim in one quick movement in a wet fissure of urgent need and determination. In all of his life, with all of the women he had fucked, Jim had never known anyone to do this. One moment he was swinging his errant dick about, seeking shelter for the anxious, drooling thing and the next minute his massive cock was totally submerged in Meg's steaming, super-liquefied pussy. She was already working it, working it
slowly and easily while Jim, nearly in shock, tried to get back any ounce of control from these two female tigers who were systematically fucking his brains out.
Not to be left out, Remmy was doing the Down Under Waltz. She worked her way down Jim's back as he plundered Meg, ending up with her head between his legs, her hot mouth and tongue wrapped around his balls, sucking and licking in rhythm with the sweating pair above her. Needing air to breathe, she periodically gurgled and bubbled from behind, sounding like an outboard motor that has swung up out of the water. Remmy moved into closer contact with Jim, her tits and body jammed against his back, her knees locked around his head and squeezing his ears until they rang. The back of his head and neck were cemented against her pussy and the flow from that very active area was running down Jim's neck and back. In a sudden flash of vision, Jim realized that she was driving the dildoe deeper into her cunt, using his head as a base. He wondered how Remmy could possibly be doing what she was doing with her feet shackled and her arms useless behind her, but the pressure on his nuts, coupled with the workout Meg was giving his cock, drove these foolish thoughts away and the three continued to flop and roll around the floor until they were all exhausted.
When it was over, no one moved. Jim tried to roll away and Meg rolled with him. Remmy, her mouth still locked around Jim's sack, followed through until they were spread out on the inlaid floor, Meg in front with Jim inside her and his arms around her, trying to find a way to unfasten her arm straps and Remmy lying stretched out with her head still in Jim's crotch.
Meg was, as usual, the first to speak.
“Wow. That was fun. Thanks, Jimmy. Are you still trying to get these straps off my arms?”
“Ah, yes. I thought…”
“Don't bother. I like being tied up. Especially when I'm fucking… Oops.”
“Oops?” echoed Jim, still trying to dislodge himself from Meg's tight pussy that refused to release his limp dick and was working efficiently to bring it back to life.
“Oops,” muttered Remmy from behind him, finally letting Jim's balls drop out of her mouth and slowly easing herself away from the other two and sitting up, her hair in complete disarray with drool and other fluids, running down her mascara-stained face.
“Oops, what?” Jim asked again.
“Ah, we'd better go check up on Sandy,” said Remmy.”She was only supposed to be on that thing for fifteen minutes. I set the timer, but…”
“On the rack?” Jim asked, trying to recover himself and remember what he was doing before he was raped by these two sex demons.
“Well, not exactly,” offered Meg, pulling herself into a sitting position as well and trying to stand up, which was a difficult move with hands and arms bound and feet hobbled as they were. “Can you help us up? We'll all go check on Sandy,” she said.
Jim lifted both sweat-covered women to their feet quickly. Despite their objections, he unstrapped their arms and headed upstairs toward the master bedroom. Meg grabbed his arm and said, “Not there. The Maid's room.”
“The Maid's room? How…?” Jim stumbled and reversed direction, heading for the new destination. When they arrived at the Maid's room, they all stopped in the doorway and stared at Sandy. The two women had apparently, with or without Sandy's permission or aid, placed her on the vertical rack with the fucking machine below. Once she was hung up and spread to all four corners of the rack, Meg and Remmy took turns adding diabolical little touches to keep her thoroughly entertained. They fastened small weights to her nipple rings, but then decided that something more was needed to keep Sandy's interest, so the milking unit was hooked up and connected to her breasts. Meg's fascination with the milker precipitated their setting up a third sucking hose and fastening it, once the suction began, directly over Sandy's pierced and ringed clit. This was not easy because the condom-covered rubber penis end of the fucking machine was already deeply embedded in Sandy's pre-lubricated twat. They played around with the arrangement, listening carefully to Sandy's mixed messages of discomfort and ecstasy while they toyed with her sex. When complete, Sandy's crotch looked like a trauma victim on multiple life support devices with hoses and tubes and battering rams driving dual rubber cocks while the milker sucked madly.
“Well, dear sister,” Meg said at last, when they felt they had finally gotten everything working as it should. “I hope you are enjoying this because it was a lot of work. If this goes well, maybe you'll figure out a way to get Rem and I on it at the same time. Wouldn't that be neat…being sucked and fucked and buggered in the ass with our tits chained together and maybe a big, double-ended dildoe in our mouths? So take notes, please. We'll want to hear all about it. Oh…and count orgasms, of course.”
“What a novel concept,” Remmy said as they adjusted the suction cycles so that the clit hose would not fall off while Sandy squirmed and shrieked into the gag and full face mask breathing arrangement Remmy found in one of Jim's dozens of cabinets. “Why stop at two of us? Let's figure out how to get all three of us into it at once. This rack looks like it could accommodate an elephant anyway.”
“Agreed,” Meg said, panting a bit. “This could really be fun. I'll draw some roughs of how we could do it, but we'd need Jim's help, you know. There's no way we could do this to ourselves and really enjoy it. Half…no, three quarters of the fun comes from knowing that someone else is in control and you are not getting out of it until he or she decides so.”
“Cool, really super cool,” Remmy said when they fitted the mask onto Sandy's face. “We can control the air you breathe,” she said, playing with a computer controlled regulator and watching Sandy's reaction when the air was cut off. After a few seconds, Sandy yelled into the gag and began to thrash and shake on the rack. The suction hoses on her clit and tits flailed about and Meg reached over and turned the air back on.
“Christmas,” said Meg angrily to Remmy. “Don't do anything stupid. You've got to be really careful with this life support stuff. No games. She has to breath, moron.”
“Ah, I know that,” said Remmy, pouting. “I just wanted to see how long she could go without it.”
“Jesus, Remmy, sometimes I think that you are really the same stupid whore I met doing tricks in Vegas, you know that?”
“Yeah. I know it comes back to me every now and then assort of a flashback. Sorry, Meggy. Sorry, Sandy.”
Sandy couldn't acknowledge the apology because she was riding the fast escalator of boundless sex right up to the top floor and then sliding back down again as the suction from the milker revved up, peaked and then subsided to a gentle baby's suck before starting upward all over again. The sounds coming from behind the rubber dick gag in her mouth, muffled by the mask and amplified by the audio tape inside the mask, kept all three women somewhat entranced for a long time. Periodically, Meg or Remmy pressed the little buttons on the console, adding additional tension to the rack winches, pulling Sandy's limbs a fraction more outward and eliciting further odd sounds from her. Eventually, the women realized that they were expected back in the living room, so Meg set the milking timer to ten minutes and they left while Sandy was once again riding the sexual stimulant rollercoaster on the rack.
As the three stood in stunned silence, Sandy was not paying any attention. She was soaked in sweat, her gagged, masked and harnessed head lolled about as the machine hammered away with the double dongs in her ass and cunt and the milker continued to hum and vibrate, jerking on her tits and clit with each suction cycle. Jim rushed over and shut off both of the machines. The girls set about freeing Sandy's wrists, upper arms, knees and ankles from the rack, then literally picked her up like she weighed nothing and carried her up the stairs to her tub. They ran warm water in the pool-like tub and then both girls climbed in and held Sandy until she came around. Jim could not decide whether to take her to the hospital or not, but both Meg and Remmy assured him that Sandy would be okay.
“We have been there before,” Meg said, serious for a change. “She might have not done so well if she wasn't used to
the fucking around you guys do all the time,” observed Meg.
“Yeah,” chimed in Remmy. “Thank God for Frequent Fucking. Thanks for flying Jimmy Airlines. She probably has enough miles by now to get a free ticket to Cairo and back.”
“This is not funny,” Jim said, holding Sandy's hand and watching as her eyes slowly focused on him. In a few minutes, Sandy returned to full consciousness and seemed alert. The girls stayed with her in the tub and sent Jim for some brandy and tea, which he made quickly. By the time he returned to the bathroom, all seemed well and there were three gorgeous nude women fooling around in the tub with their rubber duckies.
“Jesus,” said Jim as he stood in the doorway. “You three are really dangerous.” Then he smiled the smile that Sandy knew meant that someone was going to be punished. She was pretty sure that this time that someone wasn't going to be her.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Punishment
“You two,” said Jim, “are in big trouble. Your little scene with Sandy cannot go unpunished. At first, it seemed to me that the best corrective action would be to subject you both to the same thing.” He glared at Meg and Remmy who lay hog-tied at his feet, well gagged and remarkably well dressed, considering the program that Jim had in mind for them that afternoon. Both women wore new, high black boots with a very high heel, black, lace-topped hose that came all the way up to their crotch and minimal, but very expensive embroidered black thongs. They also wore brand new, fitted white cotton dress shirts that buttoned all the way up the front and outlined their shapes perfectly. The outfit was finished off with plaid, pleated skirts that looked like something one would find on a schoolgirl half their age.
Their hair was pulled back into tight ponytails and they had on make-up that made them look all the more school-girlish. While dressing to Jim's instructions, they giggled and laughed about him probably wanting to paddle a couple of post-teen college tarts. But when they showed up to be punished, Jim remarked how cute they looked and informed them that they would be punished wearing these outfits. Both girls smiled secret smiles at each other and waited for the tying to begin. They presented their wrists willingly and sharply inhaled when their arms were pulled back until their elbows touched and bound with the traditional tie that took a doubled rope under their arms, back behind their necks and then secured the elbow tie so it could not slip down. To make sure they felt what was being done to them, more rope was attached to the elbow tie and wrapped around their slim torso, two loops going above and two below their now well accented breasts. They both had been tied up enough in the past to appreciate how well this system worked. It left their arms and upper bodies immobilized and was further enhanced by tight loops of more rope around their lower thighs and ankles. Then the ankle rope was pulled up behind them and mated to the double band of rope behind their neck, pulled back again through the ankle tie and finished at their wrists.
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