Twisted: Bondage With an Edge

by Alison Tyler

  And luckily for me, I’d downloaded every last picture and cut-and-pasted the text of their two or three hundred posts into Textpad and saved them on my hard drive. I reread them; when I got an e-reader, I even figured out how to convert the text to an e-book file so I wouldn’t have to bring my laptop to bed anymore. I even resized their pics and offloaded them to my phone, so I could double-fist it if I wanted...pics in one hand, text in the other.

  So yeah, I was a little obsessive about them.

  That was probably made worse by the fact that for the last year I’d been willfully celibate—or, at least, I’d been abstaining from relationships. Since Jamie’s hot blog posts and photos had been my primary masturbation fodder since the death of The Secret Fire, and my primary sexual outlet was with myself...that means I’d spent the last year touching myself to a dead blog. Does that count as necrophilia?

  Meanwhile, whatever bondage community I knew anything about seemed to forget that The Secret Fire had ever existed. Maybe their fifteen minutes of fame were over. Was it possible that in cosmopolitan San Francisco, I was their number-one fan?

  Maybe so. When Andre emailed me that they were coming to San Francisco for Folsom Street Fair and did I want to get a drink, how could I say no?

  These were Internet mini-celebrities. They were my idols. They’d stoked my own secret fire more times than I could count. I’d had orgasm after orgasm looking at pictures of Jamie’s bound body.

  Looked like it was time to pay them back.

  I warned them right off that my apartment is pathetic. I don’t have bondage equipment or a four-poster bed. It was pretty embarrassing. They would have been much happier playing at the house of the friend they were staying with in the Mission—hadn’t they said he had an actual dungeon?

  Jamie silenced me with her hand across my mouth, while Andre grabbed my wrists and held them tight in the small of my back.

  She said, “If you think we can’t tie a girl up without a formal dungeon, maybe you didn’t get the point of our blog. And besides...” She took her hand off my mouth and drew it softly down my throat. She smiled. “If you turn out to be fun to play with, maybe you’ll get an invitation to the dungeon. We’re here until Monday, after all....”

  I was still thinking, Holy fuck, a real dungeon? when Jamie’s hand went tight against my throat, and she slapped my face. Heat coursed through me.

  “You like that?” she asked.

  I tried to nod, but she was holding me too tight. She got the picture. She slapped me again. My face got warm. She stuck her thumb in my mouth. I obediently sucked on it.

  Jamie kissed me, and I practically fainted. There was something fucking hot about the way she kissed. I’d never been kissed by a girl before. Her tongue felt all supple. Her face was so smooth. This wasn’t anything like the little scratchy feeling of kissing a guy. It was hot.

  While Jamie kissed me on the mouth, Andre stooped low and began kissing my neck, right where Jamie had been kissing it before.

  As he did, he reached around my body and started undoing my belt.

  He got my belt open easily. My jeans were so baggy he didn’t even need to unbutton them to get his hand down them and into my panties. I moaned softly as I felt one finger between my lips. He found my clit and caressed it roughly, his finger drawing circles. Jamie lifted my shirt and popped my tits out of my bra. She dug her fingernails into my nipples and smiled as I squirmed.

  “Now,” she said. “Where are those nipple clamps you talked about?”

  The nipple clamps, like the dog collar and the leash and the ball gag and the leather restraints and the knife and the candles and the lighter and the clothespins, were in the bottom drawer of my nightstand. The three silicone dildos and the lube and the two plug-in vibrators and the three battery vibrators were all in the top drawer of my nightstand. In fact, there wasn’t much in my nightstand except sex and bondage toys. I had the sex toys on top because for some reason it seemed like it would be slightly less humiliating if anyone ever stumbled across them. The logic doesn’t really hold up, but I guess whim had become tradition.

  Jamie went through my gear while Andre kissed me and played with my tits. He was an even better kisser than Jamie.

  “Where’s that rope you bragged about?”

  “I wasn’t bragging,” I whined, a little flirtatiously, half of me not wanting her to think I was pretentious, half of me hoping she’d think I was—and take it out on me. “It’s in the credenza over by the window.”

  She found it while Andre pulled my T-shirt over my head and unclasped my bra. He pulled my jeans down to my knees and then pushed me down onto the bed. I propped my arms behind me, sitting on the edge. The jeans came off over my lace-up boots; so did my panties.

  I tried to tell them I hadn’t trimmed or anything, but Jamie had gotten on the bed behind me, way up on her knees. She’s a lot taller than me. She had a ball gag in her hand.

  She stuffed it in my mouth and buckled it snugly around me as Andre came in tight against me and forced my legs open.

  “No more talking from you,” Jamie said, as Andre’s fingers worked into me. “We’ll find out everything we want to know about you.” She put her lips to my cheek and laughed sadistically. “It’ll be like a whole year’s bondage blogging, crammed into the next hour.”

  Now she had ropes in her hands. She and Andre pulled and pushed me back onto the bed, and the whole time Andre was up inside me—his fingers, firm against my insides, with the heel of his hand on my clit.

  I moaned into the ball gag as Jamie started tying me.

  Just how they got me tied up so good, I have no idea. None of my boyfriends could ever manage it. I always figured you needed a four-poster bed. Not so, apparently.

  The rope was perfect; Jamie and Andre cooed about it as they traded off tying me up. They secured my wrists to my sides with a series of loops around my hips. They tied my tits up tightly with ropes going over my shoulders and down my back in a crisscross pattern. They put nipple clamps on me and buckled the dog collar around my throat. They hoisted me up—with Andre’s hand still up inside me—and planted me arch-backed, legs spread, with Jamie cradling me. Andre secured my ankles to my hips and got down in between my legs, his tongue caressing my thighs.

  He kissed my right thigh, then drew his big hand up and slapped my left one. He repeated the cycle, kissing and slapping. My thighs turned red fast, and he slapped me harder, sometimes five times in a row. I didn’t have a whip, but he didn’t need one. He hit me harder till my thighs felt hot and looked lobster red, and then he went back to kissing my thighs while Jamie lit a candle.

  The candle flame burned hot above me; Jamie tried the wax on her hand, then gave an appreciative murmur. She lifted it high and dripped wax on my tits. I jerked as it struck me. It wasn’t that hot; it had just surprised me a little. It’s not as surprising when you’re always the one dripping candle wax on your own tits.

  Jamie made a disapproving sound. “You’re not going to be a little wimp, are you?” she teased me. “That isn’t hot. This is hot.”

  She brought the candle down low and more wax spilled out. It hurt. My tits really were more sensitive, tied as tightly as they were. I jerked again, arching my back. I moaned into the gag. Andre’s mouth molded to my pussy and he started eating me out. His tongue worked up into my slit, but he took his time making his way to my clitoris; by the time he did, my tits were practically covered in candle wax, and Jamie had started on my stomach, putting her hand down to catch any that ran toward Andre’s head.

  I’d seen him eat Jamie out a hundred times in their video clips. The sight of it always made my thighs get weak. He was way better at it in person, and before long I was right up on the edge of an orgasm.

  Andre knew it, too. He pulled back and put his hands on my knees and spread my legs wide. I was already bound, but he held me down as well—so Jamie could lower the candle to my thighs.

  They were sensitive as hell—especially with how turned on I
was. I spasmed all over with each drip. Jamie brought it closer. The wax got hotter. Andre’s fingers worked up into my pussy again, but he went really slowly. He was teasing me. He kept on teasing me till my thighs were covered and I was just about crazy with need. Jamie had burned the candle halfway down at that point; wax covered my tits and my stomach and thighs. She didn’t have much of me left to torture.

  “You want my husband to fuck you? Or do you want to get off on one of your fun little toys?” She held up the biggest of my three dildos—and when I say biggest, I mean biggest. I’d never successfully got it inside me. (Though I had had a lot of fun trying.)

  I looked at Andre and nodded. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. There were condoms in the nightstand; Jamie found one and tossed it to him. He opened his pants, took out his cock and sheathed it.

  Jamie leaned over me, reaching down to guide him in. He was big and hard and curved just right and really took his time teasing me, going slow at first while he looked in my eyes. Even so, he didn’t have to fuck me very long before I was almost there.

  But it didn’t hurt that Jamie took her shirt off and leaned down to rub my clit as Andre fucked me.

  I came like crazy.

  Andre didn’t rush through it after I’d climaxed hard on his cock. He let Jamie lean me back so he could look in my eyes, and Jamie cuddled up and looked at me with him. It would have been slightly creepy if I hadn’t seen them a million times in my fantasies, doing things just as dirty as this, and maybe dirtier.

  She took my nipple clamps off while he fucked me. I felt the pain explode through me, flying high on endorphins. She also untied the rope that held my ankles to my hips and forced my back up in an arch; it had made it really easy to come, but my back was aching.

  With only my wrists tied, I could wrap my legs around him. Andre fucked me deeper with each stroke, his heavy, hard body atop me. He took his time, as he’d taken his time with everything. Jamie got completely naked at some point. She slid up against me and kissed my face and neck while her husband took his pleasure with my cunt. I’d never experienced a man going this long; he seemed to know exactly how to please himself, and please me while he was doing it. I guess he’d had a good teacher.

  Jamie never stopped kissing and playing with me while Andre fucked me—and when she unbuckled my gag, we started making out. Andre leaned back with his knees tucked under my butt, sweat-covered and beautiful above me, watching the two of us kiss; he looked like he was in heaven.

  When he finally let go, it was gorgeous.

  Jamie caressed his broad back as he came, and kissed his neck...exactly like she’d kissed mine.

  She helped him pull out with the condom intact.

  Then they undid my ropes, and we all shared the bed.

  I can’t say it’s easy to get a good night’s sleep with three people in a full-size bed, when one of you is covered with solidified wax that keeps showing up in awkward places.

  But then, we didn’t really have sleep on our minds.

  I got that hoped-for invitation to their friend’s dungeon in the City, after all, but I didn’t get much sleep there, either.

  THE SATURDAY PET

  N. T. Morley

  As they left Bonne Femme, Luis said something to Tera that made her heart stop.

  “Let’s go to the pet store.”

  Neither Tera nor Luis had a pet.

  Well, it could be said in one sense, that Luis did have a pet. It was not a canine or feline beast, however; his pet was Tera. He kept her and groomed her, dressed her when he saw fit and left her undressed when he saw fit to do that instead. For their trip to the mall, he had done something in between; she wore a bit of a dress, but not much else. Although Luis had just dropped hundreds of dollars on lingerie, none of what Tera already owned had made it onto her body before they left the house for the mall.

  She had asked to wear a bra, but Luis wasn’t having it. She’d even tried to get him to let her wear panties, which she usually didn’t—certainly never on a Saturday, and never when the weather was so warm.

  But Luis had said, no, just the dress and the heels, and there wasn’t much to the former. The dress was quite a slutty little sundress, pale yellow and almost see-through, low-cut and short. Tera’s body was revealed quite plainly at several key places—her pert little butt, her cleavage, her nipples. Between the way the dress plunged and the way the thin yellow cotton hung to her flesh, Tera felt almost more naked than if she’d been naked. She felt almost more revealed walking through the concourse at the mall than she had when she’d stripped down in the changing room and cycled through numerous skimpy lace outfits for Luis. By insisting that Tera wear a dress so thoroughly revealing to go to the mall to try on slutty lingerie, Luis had reminded her—as if she could ever forget!—that her body was his to show off, and that she need not worry about whether others wanted to look. If it pleased Luis to let them look, they would look. It was as simple as that.

  And this was only one of the many ways in which Luis controlled her life—deliciously so. He decided when she would eat, when she would sleep. He told her when and in what way she would shower, and whether she would use the shower massager to bring herself off—or, much more commonly, to bring herself right to the edge and then back off. He decided when she would touch herself elsewhere, too. She did so in bed while he was at work, sometimes, when he gave her permission by phone—always with the proviso that she would have him on speakerphone when she did, and that she would ask permission before she came. Sometimes he gave it. Other times he did not. If permission was granted, Luis insisted that Tera come very loud for him. She never, ever failed him; Tera loved being a “screamer.”

  Tera was trained and usually obedient. Sometimes she did not obey her owner—and then she was punished.

  How else could a pet be defined?

  She might kid herself and identify as his “girlfriend,” but she was a girlfriend who did exactly what he told her, when he told her. All that was required for her to be utterly subject to Luis’s whim was for Tera to be in “that place”—meaning “sub space,” as he called it. But the fact was that Tera was there in sub space with increasing frequency lately. And when she was not, she was ever aware that Luis could put her there with a stern look, a caress at her neck or a single harsh word. She almost never talked back to him anymore; she almost never needed to. She always wanted to do as he said.

  More and more, Tera found herself her boyfriend’s plaything.

  And so Tera said, with only the slightest embarrassed quaver to her voice:

  “Yes, darling...I think that would be lovely.”

  It was a glorious day and the mall through which they walked was a vast suburban structure, its skylights open to the outside and sunbeams streaming beautifully down. Tera felt largely neutral toward the existence of this mall, though very positive toward the fact that it was the only place around to shop for lingerie. She liked the fact that Bonne Femme, the expensive “intimates boutique,” had a big enough and private enough dressing room that Luis could be admitted to sit with her while she tried on lingerie for him.

  Tera knew from experience—she often slipped away and went there in the middle of the day when Luis was at work—that for most women, the companions who came into the fitting room to give opinions were more often girlfriends. Perhaps it was a little scandalous in this drab suburb that Luis was often there with her as she tried on a whole parade of sweet nothings. But the store clerks did not know that Luis insisted on snapping photos of each outfit on his cell phone as Tera tried it on. “So I can recall what worked and what didn’t,” he said. “For when I’m deciding what you’ll wear to bed.”

  Luis always decided what she’d wear at night. It aroused Tera intensely to put on exactly the lingerie he specified, in exactly the way he ordered. Almost as much as it turned her on to try it on for him.

  In the end, he’d bought her several new garter belts, a cute little bustier, a white rhinestone-studded merry widow,
a corset, and three cute see-through nighties. They were all very slutty—extremely suggestive. Tera had very much enjoyed looking at herself in the full-length mirror while Luis sat there, wearing his suit even though it was Saturday—the son of a bitch always wore a suit.

  Occasionally, when Tera was “between outfits”—meaning she was stark naked except for her high-heeled shoes—Luis would finger her a little, just to keep things interesting.

  If the ladies who worked at the shop thought something dirty was going on in the fitting room, they didn’t say a word.

  At least, not to the couple. Perhaps the clerks knew they could count on a very large sale. Or perhaps they wished to save their gossipy comments for each other, after Tera and Luis had left. Regardless, they left with their arms full of packages—hundreds of dollars’ worth of pet wear for Luis’s favorite pet. Only one thing remained.

  “Let’s buy you a collar,” purred Luis softly, as he guided his excited girlfriend toward Pet Parade.

  Tera had been in enough pet stores throughout her life. She and her family had both cats and dogs growing up, her older sister had a parakeet and her younger sister had hamsters. She knew all too well the strange mélange of scents that spelled “pet store” to anyone who’d ever visited one. It was a mix of cat food, dog food, birdseed, cat litter, rabbit shavings, plastic, leather....

  It had never aroused her before. Now it did; it turned her on intensely. The great wall of collars loomed at the far end of the shop, and her heart pounded as she thought about one of those going around her throat.

  Though the location of the collars was obvious from where they both stood at the front of the store, Luis saw fit to engage the pretty clerk—packed into a tight yellow polo shirt and snug jeans—in their charade.

  He asked as soon as they walked in: “Where would I find the collars?”

  He looked Tera up and down before he added, “For a dog about one-oh-five.”

  Tera’s thighs felt like rubber. She reddened. Luis made a soft, sharp clicking sound as he walked with his walking stick behind the helpful female clerk, making no attempt to camouflage the open interest he felt toward her butt as she led the way. Tera had to admit it was a very nice butt. She wondered if the clerk had ever worn a collar.