textfiles/sex/EROTICA/A/ang-john.txt

Archive-name: Bondage/ang-john.txt
Archive-author: Russ Post
Archive-title: Angie and John


     Angie was beginning to get worried, while she had lost all
sense of time, she did know that it had been an awfully long time
since the last time John had done anything to her.
     It had all started innocently enough, at a party of course.
John had pulled out a pair of handcuffs and put them on her, as a
way of getting her attention.
     Well, it had worked, she splashed her drink in his face and
demanded that he take them off.  He ran off shouting something
about his eyes, leaving her screaming at him at the top of her
lungs.  Unfortunately she lost track of him in the crowd and sat
down demurely on the couch, not enjoying at all the attention she
had attracted to herself.  As long as she was just sitting there,
the handcuffs seemed to not get in the way very much.  It was
when she tried to do anything that they really bothered her.  She
ended up spilling the entire contents of her purse trying to find
something she could try to pick them with.  There was nothing but
make-up, ATM receipts, gum wrappers, and other useless junk.
Eventually she gave up and piled everything back into her purse.
Three other people sat down on the couch and started passing
around a joint.
     Naturally she joined in.  They all thought it was funny to
watch her take a drag using both hands and she started making a
show of it.  She hardly noticed when the joint was gone, along
with most of the people in the party, she sat there with the
bottle of beer that seemed to appear out of nowhere and waited
for that bastard to come back.  It was sitting there with her
hands on her lap and the various chemicals wafting through her
brain that Angie realized that she was getting very horny for
some reason.  Either that or she had to pee real bad and couldn't
tell.  No...she was definitely horny.  She held the beer bottle
tightly between her thighs and squeezed, pushing it against the
tight crotch of her jeans.  With her arms she squeezed her
breasts in on the sides.  Quickly she looked around to make sure
nobody was watching her.  She looked right into the eyes of John,
a little bloodshot, since Vodka wasn't very kind to them.  She
froze.  Did he know?
     "I thought you would have left hours ago."
     "What, with these on my wrists?"
     "Everybody's got keys to these.  These are those cheapies
that they made those belts out of a few years ago."
     "Well I don't, so I'd appreciate it if you'd get your key
and get these off of me."
     "I've got it in my room."  Surprisingly, this wasn't fol-
lowed by some sort of sly wink, which caught her off guard be-
cause she was expecting one.
     "On second thought, I'd better not let you out of my sight
again."
     "Right this way."
     It was a huge house, built of large stones in the 19th
century.  If there had been a college nearby the place would have
been converted into a fraternity house ages ago.  Fate had been
kinder in that the place was merely shared by a group of grad
students.
     "I didn't know you lived in this house," Angie said as she
climbed the stairs.
     "In the attic.  I fixed it up myself."
     They got up to his room and Angie ooohed with pleasure.
"This is really incredible."
     "Like it?  Here, have a seat and I'll get the key."
     She sat on the edge of the bed.  While John shuffled through
a drawer, she stroked the light brown wool blanket that covered
the bed.  Curiously, she found that the contrast between the
blanket, her lightly tanned wrists, and the nickle-plated hand-
cuffs with the light from the track lighting reflecting off of it
was esthetically pleasing.  What an odd thought.
     "Found it."
     He knelt down and picked up her hands to take off the cuffs.
She held his hands and looked into his eyes.  "I'm really sorry I
threw my drink in your face."
     "I've suffered worse."
     Angie actually began to feel guilty for hating him.  He had,
after all, only been playing around and she built it up into this
whole big deal in her mind.
     Looking at him, Angie realized he was quite handsome, and
his hands felt so strong and firm, yet gentle as they held hers.
She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.
     He didn't move, and momentarily Angie feared that she had
made a horrible mistake.  Actually she had, but not the one she
was thinking of, as she found out later.
     He pushed her back onto the bed and laid on top of her,
kissing her with a passion that only fanned the flames growing in
her loins.  She wanted to hold him close, press her body harder
against him, but her hands were still chained.  Indeed, he had
hooked the chain of the handcuffs with his left thumb and was
holding her arms above her head.
     He leaned to one side and with his free hand, began unbut-
toning her blouse.  She was panting too hard to voice the slight-
est protest, she was too aroused.
     With her arms pinioned above her, and her body helpless
under his weight, she could feel his hardness against her mound.
She felt exposed, and helpless, and as he began to caress her
breasts, she could swear she was about to come.  She struggled
and squirmed, but only ended up rubbing herself against him
harder.
     Then he began to use his mouth, twirling her nipple with his
tongue.  She couldn't resist any longer.  Hooking her legs around
behind his, she ground herself against his cock.  She wanted it
inside her so badly that she was determined to push it through
the two intervening layers of denim.  She strained her arms
against the cuffs, her chest was heaving when he bit down on her
nipple.  Her scream echoed throughout the attic room.  It was one
of combined ecstasy and pain, frustration and release.  Angie
came hard, and it left her weak and panting.
     "Oh god...John...Please...fuck me."
     "I guess you don't hate me anymore then?"
     "Oh please, don't punish me this way."
     "How shall I punish you then?"
     Angie had no idea what John had in mind, but she would do
anything now that she was worked up to this peak.  "Anything,
just do it."
     She didn't quite catch the comment he made about Pandora's
Box, she was too busy trying to catch her breath.  While he was
messing around with something in the closet, she reached down
with her chained hands and unzipped her jeans.
     She slid them off and onto the floor, along with her soaked
panties.  She wriggled her way onto the center of the bed with
her head on the pillow.  Lying there in just an unbuttoned blouse
and a pair of handcuffs, she began to play with herself.  "Come
on, John."
     Then she heard the jingling sound.  She propped herself up
on one elbow to see what it was.  It took her a moment to figure
out what it was, and she wished she hadn't.  The jingling was
coming from the rings and buckles hanging from this mass of black
leather and straps.  Then she re-considered.  Part of what had
turned her on so much was the feeling of helplessness, kind of
like being the damsel in distress.  She recalled how much she
enjoyed it when the boys in her neighborhood played Cowboys and
Indians and she got to play the Indian princess who got captured
and tied up by the Cowboys, or the Cowgirl who got captured and
tied up by the Indians.  She had heard about people who were into
bondage, but had never even considered what she would do if she
actually met one.  She even began to wonder if she was one her-
self.  She began to look towards this encounter with curiosity
and anticipation.  If she didn't like it she could just ride it
out, but if she did, and she certainly was in a receptive mood,
she would be in for an incredible experience.  Anyway, she
couldn't run screaming from the house in her current state of
affairs.
     She put on a sultry look.  "What are you gonna do with all
the hardware, big boy?"  It wasn't Mae West, but she tried.
     "That is for me to know, and you to find out."
     "I'm not entirely sure I want to find out."  Actually she
did, but she couldn't give in that easily.  "What's that all
for?"
     "I'll tell you as I go along.  But first, I'll have to take
those off."  He was referring to both the handcuffs and the
blouse.
     "Hey, that's no fair, you're still dressed."
     "You're in no position to complain my dear, Nya ha ha ha,"
he said, twirling the end of an imaginary mustache.  Angie
couldn't help but laugh.  She kissed him.  "Okay, I'll try."
     John removed the handcuffs and she slipped off her blouse.
     She noticed the deep lines on her wrists from the hard
steel, and she started to rub them.
     "Give me your hands, I have a cure for that."  What he
actually had were leather wrist cuffs.  They were fairly wide,
about three inches, and held closed by two big silver buckles.
There was a large ring hanging from a D-ring attached to them,
and it was pretty obvious to her what it was for.  Compared to
the cuffs, these were actually comfortable.  They fit tightly,
exactly against her skin, but they conformed to the shape of her
wrists.  Then he produced a pair of ankle cuffs that were exactly
the same, only heavier.
     "This is getting interesting.  You're turning me into quite
the proper slave girl, aren't you?"  She held up one hand and
rocked it back and forth.  The rings jangled together.  "And you
don't even need bells..."  She put her hand on his thigh and then
slid it higher.  She felt his hardness return.  "Take me...Mas-
ter."  This role was easy to slip into, and it made a very inter-
esting game.
     "You take me," he said, leaning back on the bed.  Angie took
her cue instantly, getting down on her knees and taking the shoes
from his feet that were hanging over the edge of the bed.  She
peeled off his socks, which were still fresh (He must have taken
a shower just before the party, she thought) and massaged his
feet.  She looked up at him, and met his eyes, and without break-
ing her gaze away from his, began kissing his toes.
     He patted the space beside him on the bed and she was there,
nestled under his arm, running her hand across his chest.  The
ring caught and jingled on each of his buttons, so she started
unfastening them.  She pulled aside his shirt and gazed at his
chest.  If she had seen him without a shirt this summer when he
was getting this tan, she would have been dating him already.
His skin was so smooth and perfect, hairless, except for a thin
ring around his nipples (Why do men have them anyway?  She won-
dered as she ran her fingers across them one by one) and the
curly wisps coming up to his navel from below his belt.
     His belt was her next target.  She unbuckled it, unbuttoned
his jeans, unzipped the fly, and slid her hands down so that she
could pull down his jeans and briefs together.  Fortunately he
gave her a hand by putting his feet up on the bed and lifting his
hips.  She nearly gasped at the sight of his perfectly defined
stomach muscles.  How could he find time to study while he kept
his body in such great shape?
     Throwing the pants to the floor, she looked upon what she
had unveiled.  From her experience, she could tell that this was
a better than average cock.  Men always claimed to have more, and
he was certainly below some of the exaggerations she heard, but
when compared to the reality, this was something special.  She
could wrap both of her hands around it, and still have plenty of
it left to suck, which was exactly what she did.  He let out a
grunt, and she could feel the muscles tensing in his crotch, so
she stopped.  That ought to fix him, she thought, make him want
me, now.
     It did, John grabbed her and pulled her to the bed, kissing
her and stroking her tongue with his.  He pinned her arms above
her head, and then she realized that he was actually hooking
ropes from the posts of the bed through the rings.
     She started to pull, but it was too late, he was already
tightening the ropes to her legs.  She was spread completely out.
He remounted the bed, poised himself above her, and paused.
"umm..."
     "Pill," she blurted out, trying hard not to lose the mood of
the scene.
     "Right," he said, and guiding himself with one hand, slid
his cock with excruciating slowness into her flooded vagina.  She
pulled against the ropes and moaned.  Arching her back and shak-
ing her head from side to side.
     He penetrated her to the fullest, and she gasped with her
eyes wide open, and flopped back down on the bed.  John began
stroking in and out, varying both the tempo and length.  It was
too much for Angie.  She strained and pulled, she was breathing
so heavily that she could hardly manage a low scream that was
more like a VERY loud moan.
     "Aaaarrrrrh!" John was coming, and stroking very quickly.
Angie was just on the brink, and when she felt those contractions
as his sperm came spurting into her, she went over the edge.
Angie came even harder than before.  John collapsed on top of
her, without withdrawing.  They were both panting and sweaty.
The two just laid there for a while to catch their breath.
     A few minutes later, John climbed off the bed, and surveyed
the spread form of Angie on the bed.  Sweat glistened on her
heaving breasts.  Her closed eyelids were still darkened with
arousal.  Her clenched fists strained against the leather and
relaxed.
     Angie opened her eyes and looked up at him.  "That was
absolutely incredible," she said dreamily, "But, could I get up
now?"
     "Maybe," John smiled.  Quickly, he went to the closet and
returned with a few padlocks and a length of chain.  First he
connected the chain to her ankle cuffs with two locks, and then,
with the third, he connected her wrists.
     Angie watched the whole proceeding with a bemused expression
on her face.  "I assume, then, that you mean to keep me
around...."
     "Let's just say I've had my eyes on you for a long time, and
I've always fantasized about making you mine."
     "Mmmm, keep doing this to me and you'll get your wish.  But
right now, I really have to go to the bathroom."
     "Well, there's one downstairs...."  She looked at him in-
credulously.  "...but there's another right around there behind
the wardrobe."
     "Thanks," she said as she hopped off the bed.  The chain
rattled loudly on the hardwood floor.
     While she was gone, John made preparations for what he hoped
she would agree to next.
     Angie rattled back in to the bedroom just as John finished
untangling the pride of his collection.  "What is that?" she
said, pointing with both hands (As if she had a choice).  Hand-
cuffs, ropes, and even leather shackles she could understand, but
what was before her eyes now, she couldn't even guess what part
of the body it was for, let alone how it went.  If that long
cylindrical thing was supposed to be some sort of dildo, where
did her legs go?
     "I think I'm in over my head."
     "No, but you will be...."
     "Wait, this is going a bit too fast for me."
     "I'm sorry, I guess I was getting carried away.  I've always
had a passion for this sort of thing, and with you it seemed like
a fantasy come true.  I'm sorry if I've scared you.  If you want
to go, I'll let you."
     Angie looked at him.  He looked much better to her when he
was in control.  "Look, it's not that I'm scared....well, I am,
sort of, but I've really enjoyed this so far, but I just need to
know were it's going to end up."
     John visibly brightened.  "You have?  I've never met anyone
before who shared my interests."
     "Well, I don't know exactly if I do, but I think I might.  I
just want to understand what I'm getting into."
     "Well this..." John said, holding up the head harness.  They
laughed.  "But seriously, ordinary sex just never really did it
for me.  The bondage, when I did it to myself, just concentrated
everything, and made it so much more intense.  When I could do it
to a woman, I knew the pleasure she could experience, and it
thinking of it just charged the experience for me.  The trouble
was, usually that wasn't the case."
     "Well, I can tell you, that experience was certainly over-
whelming for me.  I felt helpless, but I wasn't frightened...too
much.  And you're not too bad at the ordinary sex part."
     "Comes from reading Mom's Cosmopolitan when I was a kid."
     There was a pause.
     "Do you think you'd like to try it again."
     "I guess, I'm not sure when I've got a free night."
     "It's Saturday, do you have anyplace you have to be tomor-
row?"
     "You mean now?  I need to think a bit."  Once she had firmly
banished the thought that anything could go wrong, she agreed.
"Now what exactly is this thing."
     "Come here and I'll show you.  This part goes in your
mouth...."
     When that last buckle had been buckled, Angie was kneeling
on the floor.  The gag harness filled her mouth, and the attached
blindfold blocked out all light.  The harness had a strap that
went under her chin, and that, combined with the stiff posture
collar held her head completely immobile.  John had also placed a
belt with rings on it tightly around her waist and locked both
her wrists and ankles to it.  A long strap encircled her elbows
and then wound around her chest below her breasts.  Another strap
was cinched just above them.  Two more secured her ankles to her
thighs.  And finally, her nipples protruding between the straps
got a pair of clamps.  Those worrisome thoughts began clawing at
the back of her mind again.
     John stepped back and surveyed his work again.  Angie was
more suited to bondage than any of the women in his collection of
magazines.  He had taken care to make sure her black hair cascad-
ed over the straps of the harness instead of being trapped under
them, so it looked like something she might have put on herself,
like it was meant to be there for a long time.
     "It's done," he announced.  He watched her shift a little
bit in her bonds, testing them.  God, he was harder than ever.
John reached down and began gently stroking himself as he walked
around her.  Angie knew he was moving and tried to face him, but
between the blindfold and the rest of the bondage, the effort was
pointless.  John started the VCR, pulled on some clothes and left
the room.
     Eventually Angie became aware that John had left.  She began
to struggle.  She breathed deeply and strained against the straps
across her chest, but that only tightened the loop about her
elbows.  She tried to reach the buckles of the shackles, but they
were just beyond her fingertips.  She squirmed and twisted, but
John had bound her too well.
     The sensory deprivation was getting to her too.  She
couldn't see, there was nothing to hear except the creaking of
the leather as she struggled and her own desperate breathing.
The prod of the gag was soaked with her saliva.  She bit down,
but the leather-covered foam was too resilient.
     It seemed like hours.  Finally she settled down, resigned
that there was nothing that she could do.  (This is where our
story began).
     After what seemed like another eternity, she began to worry
again.  What if something had happened to John?  She could die
bound up like this!  She had to escape!  Her furious struggles
left her lying on her back, after thumping her head on the floor.
     She heard someone coming up the stairs and she froze.  Who
was it?  When the hand began caressing her breast, she decided it
had to be John.
     "I hope you haven't been waiting too long," he said, "I just
took about half an hour to clean up party debris."
     That was only half an hour!  But her nipples were burning in
the clamps, and all those thought that had been racing through
her mind....still, the sensation of being touched again, after
what had seemed such a long time was so intense.
     Then, he lifted her onto the bed.  A surge of sensation hit
her as he unclamped one of her breasts and began massaging her
nipple with his tongue.  It was as if her entire being were
concentrated in that one point.  The rest of her bound body
slipped away from her attention, with the exception of the prod
in her mouth.
     The Harness/Gag/Blindfold had held most of her attention
when she had first been bound.  The sensation of having her head
tightly encased in stiff leather was new and startling to her.
The way the prod was irremovably held in her mouth emphasized
that her head was IN the harness.  It was very difficult to put
in to words the sensation of confinement that device gave her.
Of course, now it was annoying because she was starting to pant,
and the strap under her chin kept her teeth tightly clamped
around the prod.
     Where had John learned his technique?  Most men tend to
spread their attention around, playing a little bit with one
breast, then perhaps nibbling an ear, then moving on to another
area, without leaving any one of them completely satisfied.  John
was still kissing and caressing her one free breast.  Angie was
getting so aroused she wanted to scream, but all she could manage
was a raspy hum.  She squirmed on the bed, but John kept nibbling
on her breast.  Then he surprised her.
     Unnoticed until he struck, John had taken the clamp he had
removed from her nipple and suddenly snapped it on Angie's in-
flamed clitoris.  She tried to kick, but the straps around her
thighs prevented that.  She couldn't reach either, because of the
leather shackles on her wrists.  All she wanted to do was remove
that clamp, and she couldn't.  She groaned in pain and frustra-
tion.
     "Oh, you don't like that.  Let me kiss it and make it feel
better."
     John knelt on the floor, removed the clamp, and buried his
face between Angie's shackled feet.  He sucked hard on her lips
and clit.  He penetrated her deeply with his tongue.  He even
blew lightly on her vagina, the cooling air shocking her nether
regions.
     Finally, John decided he was ready, and stripped off his
jeans.  This time he penetrated her rapidly, and Angie's entire
body shook.  John pumped as fiercely as he could and within
moments, Angie came, her scream finally making it through the
leather than had silenced her.  John, however, wasn't finished
and kept stroking madly.  Angie began to feel the tide rising
within her again.  As their rhythm reached its fevered peak, they
both came explosively.
     After he had cleaned himself up, John began gently removing
the bonds from Angie's body.  Her knees were cramped from being
held so tightly for so long, and she was sweaty and sore all
over.  But it was a good kind of sore.  John accompanied her to
the shower, and they took turns scrubbing each other's backs, and
fronts....
     In the morning, Angie awoke in John's bed, but John was
nowhere to be found.  She got up, but the chain she discovered
around her ankle kept her from getting out of the bed.  A folded
note on the nightstand said "Stay put."  She laughed.  She began
to speculate on whether or not she'd be at any of her classes on
Monday, and then she remembered that Monday was a school
holiday....
 
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