Even her husband didn't know about this game,
she mused.
"I wonder what Jon would do if he found out how
I spend my lonely afternoons?", she asked herself.
Better not to find out, she concluded. He would
undoubtably take advantage of her, she knew. She loved him, but he had
a mean streak that came out once in a while.
Setting her parcels on the bed, she stripped off her regular clothes, and got into the tight, french cut bikini she used for the game. Somehow, being in a tight, revealing outfit was sexier than being naked. It just worked that way.
Next, she got a drinking glass from the bathroom, broke some ice- cubes from the tray, and set up her escape. There were keys frozen into the ice cubes, and a string that ran between them. The cube with the keys hung on the outside of the glass, along with another cube as a weight. Three cubes hung inside the glass. The glass itself was placed on a high shelf, within reach for a normal person, but quite inaccessable to her once the game started. The game would continue until the ice melted, and dropped the keys to a spot within reach.
That arranged, she knealt on the bed, and began wrapping herself in leather. One wide strap went around each leg, pulling her foot against the back of her thigh. Another strap wrapped around her knees, and ran behind her back, pulling her legs tight against her body, and forcing her into a butt-thrusting, spread legged squat. She carefully placed the ball gag between her teeth, adjusting the strap so that it was firm, but wouldn't leave any marks on her face. Over this, she wrapped an ace-bandage, ensuring that the buckles were completely covered in a stretchy, clinging layer that prevented all posibility of release.
Next, she wrapped a wide leather collar around her throat, locking it in place with a small padlock. She arranged the strap that hung from it so it came halfway down her back. Giving a final look at the clock, and a glance at her ice cubes, she looped the handcuffs through the strap suspended from her collar, and locked them around her wrists. The sensations began at once, as they always did. The pose pulled her bikini tightly into her crotch, giving the most delicious sensations. The top, chosen specifically because it was too small for her generous 38D breasts, squeezed and worked her tits to tingling joy as she rolled on the bed. And she fantasized.
She was a college girl, facing her Sorority initiation.
The other girls had tied her this way, but wouldn't tell her what was supposed
to happen. Would she be put on display for one of the Fraternities? Would
the boys touch her? What if they took pictures?
What would she have to do to get them back?
She struggled against her bonds in mock horror,
making herself even hotter. There was a dampness growing between her legs,
and her nipples were growing harder by the minute.
She changed fantasies.
She was a spy, caught by enemy agents. They were
preparing to question her, to try to get her to talk. They would tease-torture
her for days, forcing her to satisfy them with her mouth and tongue, while
leaving her own need unfulfilled. They would have their hands all over
her, fingering her pussy, tweaking her tits, trying to drive her mad. She
rolled over and began to rythmically rub herself against the edge of a
pillow. She knew that she couldn't bring herself off this way, but trying
added to the heat.
She changed fantasies.
She had gone out on a blind date. The man had turned out to be handsome and charming, and she had dropped her guard. He had drugged her, and when she awoke she found that he had tied her up. He was going to use her as the guest star in an orgy. The others were gathering in the next room. Soon, they would be in here, enjoying themselves at her expense. They would spank her exposed bottom, shave her pussy, and take turns licking and sucking her until she passed out from pleasure. Then she would awaken, naked, in a strange part of town, and have to try to get home without being seen. She pumped her hips against an imaginary lover's lips, trying to pleasure herself against thin air.
She was steaming hot now, and looked at her ice cubes to see how much longer she had. She could see the vibrator, lubricated and ready, waiting where she had left it. And she remembered...
She remembered the time she had tried the game
with the vibrator pushed into her, held in place by the bikini, and turned
on. She would never forget the experience. She had come, over and over
again, for the entire time. She was still coming when the keys fell, and
she dropped them three times trying to free herself. Jon had almost caught
her that time, and commented that she seemed "distracted" at dinner that
night. Distracted? That was an understatement. She had been almost brain-numb,
suffering from an orgasmic O.D.
She fantasized again.
She was a famous model, kidnapped and sold into
slavery. An arab sheik would be examining her, to see if he wanted to add
her to his harem. He would squeeze her tits and buttocks, crotch-rub her,
and tickle her back and feet. If her nipples grew hard, or her pussy got
damp, he would take her and keep her as his sex- slave. All she had to
do was stay calm, and she would be free. But he was an expert, and she
knew that she couldn't resist his roving hands. She struggled to escape,
pulling her bikini even tighter into the tingling valley of her thighs.
She changed fantasies.
She had come to a job interview, as secretary
to a photographer. He had mistaken her for one of his models, and before
she knew it, he had her tied up. He had fondled her, marveled at how well
she squirmed and struggled, and taken several roles of film. The courier
would be here to pick up the film any minute. She had to get loose, or
the pictures would be published. She twisted, rubbing her tits
and body on the bedsheets, watching her ice "clock".
As she watched, the bottom ice cube slid down the string a bit, then a bit more. Soon, she would have relief. Suddenly, to her surprise, the bottom ice cube slid off the string, and fell to the floor. The key was in the second cube. She watched in shock as, left without a counterweight, it was drawn up the side of the glass by the ice-cubes inside.
It hung, hooked over the edge for one agonizing
moment, then fell into the glass. The key was in the glass. It wasn't going
to fall.
She couldn't reach it.
She really was trapped!
The end
Comments welcome
The Bear
thkbear@netvoyage net