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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