Stocks & Bonds

We live right next to a golf course, and my husband George is an avid golfer, to the point where he owns his own golf cart, and he can take the cart directly over to the clubhouse at tee time.

I don’t like to play golf.  I tried it a few times but I am not very good at it, and it just doesn’t excite me.

So while my husband plays golf I play with self-bondage.  He is usually gone for several hours, which is just about the right length of time for me to be ready to be released when he returns.  He always takes advantage of whatever situation I have gotten myself into and makes me suck him or otherwise service him before he releases me, and so we both enjoy my self-bondage.

And I enjoy being tied up hand and foot.  I like having someone else make my sexual decisions for me (preferably my husband, but never say “always or never”).  When I was a kid playing “Cowboys and Indians” with the other kids, I was always the one that wound up being tied to a tree and being groped by the boys.  The “Story of O” is one of my favorite books, and we own a hard bound copy that sits on our coffee table.

On the internet we found a company that manufacturers bondage furniture, and we ordered a set of stocks.  They were advertised as being able to fold down for easy storage.  We ordered them on a weekend, and UPS delivered them in mid-week.  We were both busy and not in the mood for assembly work, and so we just slid the shipping carton containing the stocks into the spare bedroom to wait for Saturday.

Saturday my husband had a 9:00 A.M. tee time, so he headed out with his cart and his clubs.  I ate a light breakfast and showered, and then opened the carton and pulled out the stocks.  There were directions, and “some assembly required”, but in a short time I had them set up and ready, and so I couldn’t wait to try them out.

They were extremely well made (also expensive).  The wood surfaces were smoothly finished and polished, the hardware was custom fitted, and the yoke where the prisoner’s neck goes was padded so that there would be no marks on the skin.  When assembled, the stocks stood about 4’ high, and were 4’ wide and 4’ deep.  They were also “bomb-proof”, meaning they were extremely solid.  Once I was locked in these stocks, escape would be out of the question!

It was time for a “test drive”, so to speak.  I stripped out of my clothes, and folded them neatly on the dresser.  I tested the keys to be sure that the various locks actually worked correctly (they did), and then placed the keys on the dresser with my clothes.  Just for fun, I placed a mirror against the wall in front of the stocks so that I would be able to see myself when I was imprisoned.  From our own collection of bondage stuff, I buckled on leather ankle cuffs on my ankles.  They have a “D” ring attached, and they are more comfortable than steel cuffs.  I also placed a ball gag with a leather strap in my mouth and buckled it extra tightly to make it secure.

The stocks have a 6” high block on each side for the prisoner to stand on, separated by about a yard.  I stepped up on each block and locked the “D” ring from each of my ankle cuffs to the screw eye in the post on each side of the frame of the stocks.  My ankles were now spread apart by a yard, and the elevated step would place my rectum and vagina at just the right height for “you know who” when he returned from his golf game.

I was already wet and horny by this time and I took a minute to rub myself almost to orgasm but I knew that I had to move on.

I bent forward at the waist and placed my neck in the padded semi-circular yoke in the bottom half of the stocks.  I arranged my hair to hang mostly to one side and not get caught in anything.  The top half of the stocks was hinged on one end and was equipped with a locking hasp on the other end.  This was the moment of truth!  Once I locked the hasp closed with my neck in the yoke I would be a prisoner until someone came to release me.  “In for a penny, in for a pound”, I said to myself.  Taking a deep breath, I lowered the top half of the stocks into place and reached around and snapped the lock closed on the locking hasp.

I had now passed the point of no return.  I was locked up, a prisoner of the stocks!  I could see myself in the mirror against the wall.  I was bent forward, with my face at about 30” above the floor.  My hair hung down the front of the stocks and drool was already dripping from my gag.  Because of the solid construction of the stocks, I could no longer see behind me, and in the mirror I appeared as a disembodied head protruding from the wood surface.

My hands were still free.  The designer of the stocks (probably a college educated engineer) had placed metal handles at either end of the lower half of the stocks that were intended to serve as locking wrist restraints.  (About a yard apart)  That is, they were hinged on the upper end and locked on the lower end.  They were equipped with a spring device and were self-locking so that when a prisoner’s wrist was placed within them they would snap shut and lock.  I placed my right wrist within the right locking handle and it snapped shut and locked with a satisfying “click”.  I placed my left wrist within the left locking handle and it too snapped shut and locked, and I was now secured.

I took stock of my situation (no pun intended).  My legs were spread and I was bent over at the waist.  My awkward position caused my breasts to hang down like fruits.  I could only see my reflection in the mirror – anything that went on behind me was out of my sight.  I could not reach my tits or my pussy with my hands, and so orgasm was out of reach, at least for now.

And I was horny!  My body ached for satisfaction!  I squirmed and twisted but I could not even bring my knees together.  Bending my knees lowered my ass toward the floor and opened my inner thighs even wider but offered no relief.

I daydreamed about sex.  My vagina was soaking and hot as a fire.  When my husband came home and found me naked in this predicament, would he screw me and then force me to lick his dick?  Yeah, guys are like that.  Would he screw my ass and then force me to lick his dick?  Yuk!  Would he spank me or whip me?  We usually are not into real pain but my upturned ass would certainly offer an inviting target, and I would not be able to even see the blows coming!

What if he brought home his golfing buddies?  I could only imagine what a sight my widespread thighs presented from the rear!

There was no way to measure the passage of time.  My only horizon was my own reflection in the mirror, and I looked to myself like a disembodied head.  The stocks were not painful but were not exactly relaxing either.  My mind drifted off in a daydream of sex and bondage and lust.  I tried to hump the air but the only movement I could make was bending my knees and that accomplished very little.  When I bent my knees my vagina yawned wide.  I made faces at myself in the mirror.  A wet spot of drool accumulated on the rug below my face.  I chewed on the gag strap to lessen the strain on my jaws but it was no real relief.

Suddenly I became aware that somebody was behind me in the room.  Whoever it was had entered the house quietly and was moving without noise, but I could smell after-shave lotion.  I “umphed” into the gag but received no response.  I hoped it was my husband, but the aftershave was a popular type that any man might wear.

My unknown visitor stroked my buttocks and the insides of my thighs.  He rubbed my groin and his fingers invaded my vagina.  I “umphed” and moaned in pleasure and lust, and humped against his (or her) hand.  My passion rose, but just before I reached orgasm my unknown tormentor withdrew his hand.  I groaned through the gag in frustration, and bent my knees and humped the air – alas, without result.

My unknown visitor turned his attention to my breasts, hanging like twin fruits, and occupied himself with pinching my nipples.  I shivered in a combination of pain and pleasure.  He rubbed my shoulder blades, and I purred like a kitten.

After a few minutes of playing like this, I heard sounds that sounded like a man disrobing.  Behind me, I heard a man’s trousers and belt hit the floor, and shoes being dropped.  Then a rigid cock grazed my buttocks.  I tried to move to accommodate my visitor but could only wiggle and probably look foolish.

A lubricated thumb suddenly pierced my rectum, and fingers entered my vagina again.  I felt like a glove that was being worn, or a bowling ball with holes.  The sensations were strong – both of my cavities were penetrated simultaneously, and I humped and “umphed” and drooled vigorously.  Alas, once again, just before I came, he withdrew, and I groaned in frustration.

Then a couple of minutes of silence and inactivity passed.  Since I could not see behind my stocks, I could only guess what was happening.  I listened carefully for any clue, and then for a brief second I heard what sounded like a beach towel being rolled up to be used as a spanking tool.

“Bzzz” – there was the sound of a beach towel cutting through the air and a feeling like a hot poker when the tip of the towel hit my right buttock.  I screamed into my gag and tried to twist my buns out of reach but the pitiless way in which I was bound allowed me only a few inches of movement.  My ass must have made an inviting target.  A few seconds later I heard the sound of the beach towel again and the tip burned into my left buttock.  I bent my knees and lowered my ass, which probably made my vagina yawn like a chasm.  My unknown tormentor lowered his aim and the towel snapped up, stinging my most private parts.

The blows from the towel stopped and a moment later I was receiving a soothing butt rub.  My captor used some lotion and massaged my burning buns.  After a few minutes, his fingers again invaded my vagina and I moaned and humped happily against his hand.  Again he withdrew his hand just before I came, and I grumbled against my gag in frustration.

Then he slid his dick into me.  Lord, it felt good!  Big and hard in my wet cave – at first I thought it would split me in two, and it filled stretched the entire cavity.  He put his hands on my shoulders and shoved with enthusiasm, and it felt great!  This time I came almost immediately and it rocked my soul!  My orgasm came from the tips of my toes and felt like it would blow my head off.  I squirmed and convulsed and flew to the moon and back.

But my master/captor/attacker did not come.  Instead he withdrew and walked around to the front of the stocks where I could see him.  It was my husband George, and he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.  He unbuckled and removed my gag, and I worked my jaws to relieve the fatigue.

George wanted oral sex.  He presented his dick to me (still wet from the juices of my vagina) and I swallowed it and sucked it with vigor.  He grabbed a handful of my hair with one hand and pushed on the back of my head with the other hand.  His wet dick slid down my throat until my nose was buried in pubic hair.  He withdrew occasionally to give me a chance to breathe, and then plunged deeply down my throat.

I can tell when he is about to come.  A muscle in his dick gets hard, and it tells me he has gone over the edge.  He came with his dick deep in my throat, and his semen squirted hot down my throat.  I swallowed it all (when you are tied hand and foot you don’t have a lot of choice).  Long threads of semen lingered in my mouth.  I tried to breathe it all down and not let any fall (we already have too many stains on the carpet).  As his dick started to soften and shrivel, I sucked on it delicately and teased him with my tongue on the sensitive underside of the head.

George staggered and almost fainted.  He shivered with the fading lust, and smirked at me in satisfaction.  He stepped out of my line of sight, and I heard sounds like he was collecting his clothes.  He must have gone to take a shower, leaving me with wetness dripping from my lips and my vagina.

Left alone, I daydreamed about more sex.  I had no way to measure the passage of time, but at some time George came back into the room and fucked my vagina again.  Since we had both had a great orgasm, the pressure was off and our coupling this time was more deliberate and more enduring.  We both orgasmed simultaneously this time, and he tormented me one last time by fingering my rectum after he withdrew.

Stepping back into my line of vision, he unlocked my wrists and then handed me the key that would unlock the stocks holding my neck.  I gratefully pulled out of my imprisonment and stretched my cramping muscles.  Unlocking my ankles, I stepped down and we embraced lovingly.

A hot shower and a good sleep followed.  The next time we use the stocks George will be locked up and I will be the Master!

 

22.11.04