While Suzanne’s new husband is away on a fishing trip she arranges a brief meeting with her ex-husband, but finds herself at his mercy for the weekend.
I stood in the middle of the small, musty-smelling, motel room towel-drying my hair, as I relived the events of the past several hours. The shower was refreshing, I thought to myself, as I watched the red glow from an outside light flicker against the curtains.
As I finished drying off I turned and watched Suzanne as she twisted and squirmed, lying naked and hog-cuffed on the bed. ‘I’d give anything to have a picture of this,’ I thought, wishing I had my camera with me. I could hear her short quick breaths and wondered if she was reaching another orgasm.
Her elbows were pulled back and held tightly together with handcuffs; as were her wrists cuffed and pulled tight against her ankles; which were also cuffed together, pulled back and padlocked to her wrists. The same padlock was used to lock both sets of cuffs to a small steel ring, which was anchored to a thick, four-inch wide black leather belt that encircled her small waist. The belt was buckled in the front, with absolutely no way for her to reach around and release it. Having her wrists locked to the belt, which was situated at her lower back caused her cuffed elbows to bend and to be forced upward and away from her back. This also served the purpose of forcing her to thrust her breasts forward. Being locked to the ring strictly limited the movement of her hands and feet. The black leather hood enveloping her head was tight and secure. The leather was soft enough that it conformed to her head and face perfectly. It zipped closed in the back and locked at the base of her neck with a small padlock. Her dark hair could be seen curling up out and around the thickened neckline of the leather hood. A large penis gag, which was held firmly in place by two hood-mounted straps, was probably too large for her mouth but she seemed to tolerate it ok. There were no openings in the hood except for a small triangular hole, which allowed her small, straight nose to breathe air. Her head was securely encased in the dark, leather prison. I walked over to the bed and gently pushed my hand between her closed, bent knees. Her quick, shallow breaths become louder between the inaudible sounds coming from the hood as she tightened against the steel restraints. I waited, holding my hand in place. After a moment she slowly opened the area between her thighs, spreading her knees as far as her cuffed ankles permitted. I caressed her inner thighs while directing my hand toward her crotch.
"Mmmmmmhhhhh..." she moaned and allowed her body to relax.
I smiled in response to the orgasm I knew she’d just had. When I was within inches of her womanhood I could feel her thigh muscles vibrating. The vibrating dildo that I placed in her vagina before I showered was still at a slow, but strong and steady hum. As my hand reached the strap that secured the steel butt plug and vibrator deep inside her I knew they were serving their purpose. The leather strap was soaked with her juices and the sheet beneath her held evidence of several orgasms. I tugged on the half-inch wide strap that was pulled tight between her legs and she responded with a quick jerk and loud moan.
The crotch strap was fastened in back to the waist strap; pulled tight between her butt-cheeks, down, under and up to separate the outer lips of her vagina, then proceeding up and through two steel rings and back through the first ring. The rings acted as a locking device that when the strap was tightened it was held that way until the rings were manually pulled apart. The crotch strap had two steel snaps on the inside; one in the rear area and another just inches away in the front area, perfectly located at each orifice. When used, the rear snap firmly attached to the six-inch butt plug, concealing and securing the anal device in place. The plug had a narrow oblong shape to its base, which seated itself perfectly between her ass cheeks, and also prevented it from being swallowed by her anus if the snap came loose.
The other snap was positioned a few inches away, allowing the vibrator to attach to it. This particular vibrator was barrel-shaped, seven-inches long, two-inches across. It had one-quarter inch round, finger-like projections set around and along it length. Two ‘C’ batteries were sealed inside it, and an adjustment for two speeds was on its base. Tonight, I’d chosen the slower, stronger vibrations.
I knew the vibrator was uncomfortable for her. Suzanne wasn’t built for a large cock and would cry out in pain whenever I forced her to take all of me. She was the most responsive woman I'd ever known. And she was great for my ego, as I'm just an average size man but I easily filled her and was always able to outlast her. Her many years of Kegal exercises had kept her firm and tight. She was every man's dream. Tonight I’d learned that that hadn’t changed.
I walked over and seated myself at the table, pulled the curtain slightly to one side and could see the café across the street. I noticed the bright red neon café sign flickering. ‘Trying to burn out, or an electrical short?’ I wondered. There was little traffic on the highway, not really busy for a Friday night. ‘A cappuccino sounds good,’ I thought as I closed the curtain.
"You say something hon"? I asked. Her moan was a little louder this time. I had purposely rented an end room of one of the sleaziest motels I could find. I wasn’t about to spend a hundred dollars on a meeting that might have lasted only 10 minutes. And besides, if the night went the way I planned, I wanted her to think she wasn’t worth anything more than this to me. This particular motel was on the outskirts of the city and from the looks of it, the rooms should have been rented by the hour, not by the day. It was the perfect place I’d decided.
I reached into a small overnight bag I had and removed a comb, cigarettes and lighter. After combing my still-damp hair I lit a cigarette, sat back in the chair and savored the scene before me.
Suzanne’s skin was tanned and glistening with perspiration. I watched her hands struggle in vain to release the strap that held her vagina and anus captive. The movements and shape of her hands were made more beautiful by the pastel pink nail polish she favored. Suzanne always fussed over the care of her hands and feet and she always wore the same color polish on both, even going as far as always matching lipstick color to her nail color.
‘Yes, she’s a beauty,’ I thought. ‘And her helplessness only enhances everything she already is.’ That thought instilled in me an animal-like desire to have her. I found myself wanting her again, even more than I did just minutes ago. As I sat and smoked my cigarette I wondered, ‘Who‘s really the prisoner here?’
Somehow the past few years had humbled her. She’s would’ve never come to me before, much less allowed herself to be put in this position. And she didn’t easily admit to being wrong about anything. But she did come to me, and at the place of my choosing. Maybe she was just tired. I didn’t see the ‘determined’, ‘always-in-control’ Suzanne I once knew.
Was it loneliness? Her two girls were off to college now. Or maybe it was all the craziness in the world today causing her to reevaluate her priorities. Perhaps it was guilt over a hasty divorce three years ago that ended our 12-month marriage. Our first year was very difficult for both of us, and her solution to the problems was a divorce. No ifs, ands or buts about it. ‘She’s remarried now, was it that bad of a bad marriage?’ I wondered, as I considered the reasons why she’d set herself up to be used in any way I wanted. Did she really expect to come here and just talk?
I’d often joked that she needed a good spanking and her reply was always, "That’ll be the day". Whatever her reason for coming here tonight, it was almost irrelevant now, as she was in no position to talk or to deny me anything I wanted. Nor could she stop me from taking her as many times as I wished and in any way I pleased.
I met and started dating Suzanne five years ago when I went to work for a company where she was employed as an accountant. She was a 33 year-old divorced mother of two teenage girls. I was 40, never married and I had no children. I was attracted to her instantly. She was pretty, intelligent, independent, organized, but was too opinionated, controlling, and stubborn and was used to having her way.
I’d always known her to be a hard worker and good mother, but she took life way too seriously. I often tried to get her to loosen up and have some fun. ‘However, these are the things that attracted me to her,’ I thought to myself. ‘She isn’t really glamorous, but she’s always tried to be. Regardless, she is very attractive, whether she’s in her faded-out jeans or an evening dress.’
Suzanne was medium height, about 5’4", and slim, 118 pounds if I remembered correctly. Her dark brown hair just touched her shoulders and she kept it feathered back.
She had sparkling green eyes, which were accented by thin eyebrows and high cheekbones. It was her eyes that first got my attention; they were almost a jade green. I remembered the first time I’d asked her out to dinner. I was talking to her over the phone and she said if I could describe her face in detail that she would go. I took it as a joke but played along. I thought I described it quite well. She thought so too as she agreed to have dinner with me. I later learned that it was not a joke; she needed to know that I had been paying attention.
Suzanne always took very good care of herself. She exercised and was always mindful of health food. And she was fanatical about her personal hygiene and appearance, remembering her daily, two-hour morning bathroom ritual. Her biggest fear was growing old and being unattractive.
‘Why did she call me,’ I wondered. I’ve talked to her twice in three years. About a year after our divorce I stopped in her workplace to get some papers I needed after I changed employers. I made it a point to stop by her office and say hello. She wasn’t unfriendly, just . . . indifferent. I noticed the nameplate on her desk, still using my name and, she wasn’t wearing any rings. I suppose I still thought we could work things out. Maybe I should ask her out to lunch, perhaps a coffee? But, as our conversation went on I decided against it.
About three months ago I called her to get a contact number of an associate I worked with while I was there. The company doesn’t give that information out, but I thought she would. While talking to her I decided to ask her to lunch.
"Well, you know I’m married now, don’t you?" she said.
"No, I didn’t know that."
"I am," she said. "But it’s ok, we can still do lunch." She went on to say she got married several months ago and they were very, very happy.
"Ooookay," I said. "I didn’t know; we’ll just forget that idea."
But she insisted we do lunch anyway, that it would be ok. I refused. I really didn’t want to hear about how happy they were and how much better off she is now.
"Well, call me if you ever want to talk," she said.
"Ok," I said and hung up the phone.
Until last week, this had been my only communication with Suzanne. Last week when she called, I recognized the incoming number displayed of my cell phone. It was the private line to her office. I had mixed feelings about talking to her, so I let it ring. ‘If it’s important she’ll leave a message,’ I decided.
And she did leave a message, "Hi Wes, it’s Suzanne. Sorry I missed you. I was hoping maybe we could get together, maybe have that coffee and talk awhile. I’ll call back tomorrow afternoon. Bye-bye".
I thought a while about her message. What could she want to talk about? Was she single again? I spent the remainder of the day considering the possibilities. ‘Yes, she is single again,’ I concluded. And now she’s going through another divorce and wants to talk. The thought of it somehow angered me. Yes, I would like to see her again, but it will be on my terms.
I’ve been involved with only one woman since Suzanne. I met Shannon about six months after the divorce. I moved back to my hometown and Shannon was a cute, perky 24 year-old cashier at the corner convenience store. After a few weeks of seeing and talking to her on my morning coffee stop, the subject of dating came up. She talked about the immaturity of boys her age and expressed her interest in older men. Understanding this to be an invitation to ask her out, and it seemed that I met the main requirement; I suggested that we go out sometime. She agreed, and it was the start of a two-year relationship. Shannon made it clear on our first date what she wanted. We had spent our first date at a Renaissance Faire. On our way home our conversation was mainly about the events of the day and life in the 14th century.
There was a lull in the conversation and after a few minutes of silence, she asked, "Have you ever spanked a little girl before?" I couldn’t believe what I just heard. And I wasn’t sure how to take her question.
Was she talking about little as in ‘size’ or ‘youth’? The thought crossed my mind that she meant it literally. She was determining if I’m a pervert, a molester or a dirty old man. Or was it leading to spanking her? Shannon was little, but she was no girl. She was a woman and wore the clothes to prove it. She looked at me waiting for an answer.
"No", I answered. "I’ve threatened to but never have."
She leaned over to me and softly asked, "Would you like to spank me?"
Not really knowing how to respond to her question and if she was even serious or not, I answered. "Why, have you been bad?"
"Yes," she whispered.
Anyway, that’s another story. But it was with Shannon that I discovered and explored the world of bondage and discipline. She was a submissive in search of a Dom.
I received Suzanne’s call the next afternoon as she promised. "Hi Wes, did you get my message?"
"Hello Suzanne, yeah I did."
"Is there something wrong?" I asked.
"No, I just want to talk to you."
"But not over the phone?"
"Won’t your husband care?" I asked, thinking my question would confirm my idea she was single again.
But she went to say that he and his friends are going out of town on a fishing trip, again. I noticed she emphasized the work ‘again’.
"They will be leaving next Wednesday and not return until Sunday night. But it wouldn’t matter anyway; he would be ok with it," she explained.
‘Ok, so she’s still married,’ I thought. However, I didn’t believe all was well with them. I told her I’d like to see her, but I didn’t know my schedule next week. "I’ll call you on Monday," I said.
We talked a few more minutes, how’s the girls, job going ok, that kind of stuff but hung up with the understanding I would call her Monday afternoon.
I knew exactly what my schedule was for that next week but wanted a few days to think about this ‘meeting’.
‘She looks better than most women do at half her age,’ I thought, as I watched the 38 year-old Suzanne squirm and struggle onto her side, her un-tanned breasts contrasted sharply against her salon-tanned skin. I enjoyed watching her breasts dance about as she struggled on her side. Her 35C-28-34 measurements would be the envy of many women her age, and younger. I noticed the large wet area on the white sheet when she rolled to her side. ‘Yes,’ I thought to myself, ‘she’s enjoying it whether she wants to or not.’
"Hmmmphhh", Suzanne moaned again.
‘I should at least let her talk,’ I told myself. ‘After all, that is why she came here tonight.’ But, I had her handcuffed and ball gagged within minutes of her arrival and other then the few moments it took to exchange the ball gag for a penis gag she’d had no opportunity to speak. We’d talk later I decided.
I stood up, walked to a black leather bag I brought with me and removed a short chain that had small metal clamps connected at each end. I turned and went to Suzanne, placed one hand on her upper arm, bracing her on her side. I paused and held her still as I moved closer to smell her scent. She was wearing White Shoulders. Did she remember that it is my favorite perfume?
I wondered about it a moment as I leaned closer and kissed her shoulder. I could taste her perspiration as I moved my mouth from her shoulder to her breast; I took a moment and teased her nipple with my mouth and tongue. The odor of the perfume had weakened and mixed with the scent of female perspiration. I wanted very much to remove her crotch strap and take her, again.
"Mmmphhhheeemmmm," she moaned in anticipation of something yet to come. I laid the chain on the bed and cupped one of her breasts. With a milking motion and a firm squeeze I worked my hand to the small firm nipple.
"Mmmmrrphhh," she moaned again as she stiffened against the cuffs. As I slowly rolled her nipple between forefinger and thumb, it twitched in response to my touch. I gave it a firm pinch and then picked up the clamp and fastened it onto the awaiting nipple.
"Arrrmmmmfff," her body stiffened again in protest of the clamp.
With my forefinger I gently caressed the other nipple in a circular motion. It was already erect and waiting to be clamped. I picked up the other clamp and caressed her nipple with the cold metal. After a few moments, it too was flattened by the clamp.
"Mmmmpphhhhaaaa," was her reply as her body stiffened and twisted again and again. But the steel bonds held her secure in her hog-tied position. I knew how sensitive her breasts and nipples are. Suzanne is a woman who could orgasm just from having her breasts fondled. I released her arm and watched as she rolled onto her stomach and back to her side in an attempt to loosen the tit clamps, but they held firmly.
I returned to the bag and retrieved a small set of thumb cuffs. Walking back to Suzanne I open and closed the cuffs several times, playing with them. I wanted her to hear the clicking noise they made. I so enjoyed teasing her and, I knew Suzanne. I knew I had to defeat her mentally, more so then physically.
Suzanne’s feet are ticklish and I was going to take advantage of that later, but for now I would just restrict what freedom remained with her feet. I walked up to the bed where I had full access to her feet and ran the rigid cuff across the sole of her foot.
"AAAYYYYYMMMMMRR"! She tightened against the cuffs and jerked her feet to the side. It seemed like a reflex more than a conscious movement.
With her ankles locked to the waist belt she was only able to move her feet from side to side and even that movement was limited. I pulled her ankles together and against my thigh, and held them firmly with my left hand. My right hand held the cuffs. <clliiicck> <cliiiicck>
The thumb cuffs were secured around each big toe. I set back on the bed and caressed the cheek of her ass as I enjoyed the captivity of her feet. I was still able to hear the low hum of the vibrator and when I moved my hand down and between her thighs I could feel its vibrations, but it seemed less now. ‘I’ll have to get more batteries,’ I told myself as I stood up.
The shiny metal cuff completed the ensemble, enhanced by her tanned feet and light pink nail polish. ‘I really need a picture of this,’ I thought once again. ‘I'll never have this opportunity again.’
She was still able to move her feet side to side but now her feet moved together, as one.
"AAAHHHHOOO"! UUUUHHHHYYYY"! She moaned with an exhale.
I walked over to where my clothes were hanging and heard her moan several times while I got dressed. Her muffled and distorted sounds seemed to be more of a plea than protest. Perhaps she heard me dressing and feared I’d leave her this way. But I had decided to go for that cappuccino; the night was still young.
I’d only be gone a few minutes, but she wouldn’t know that. After dressing I walked over to her, bent over to speak into the side of the hood and said, "Suzanne, I’m going for ice".
"Yyyyhhyyoo!" She tried so hard to make it a clear ‘no’.
"I’ll be back soon. Don’t make too much noise, I’m leaving the door unlocked and you never know who might come in to investigate the noise."
"Yyyyhhyyooh!" She again muttered her disapproval.
"Yes, yes, I’ll be sure to bring back enough to last awhile," I said.
"Oyyynhhaat!" She tried again to express her disapproval as she jerked her body from side to side on the bed.
‘That should keep her mind swirling for a while,’ I thought, remembering our past games. Suzanne can’t stand it when her nipples are teased with ice cubes; it drives her into an uncontrollable frenzy.
I walked over to the table, picked up my cigarettes and lighter and walked to the door. "NYYYHHHYYYAA, YYAAAAOOOO!" She sounded almost panicked as I opened the door.
"Shuush, I’ll just be a short while," I said as I closed the door behind me.