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Sarah: Party Bondage

By: Falcinator



Author's note:

This is a fairly tame, straightforward piece by my normal BDSM standards, but I liked the idea. 

As you can tell at the end, I also have plans for this girl if enough people tell me they like it :)

###############

I really hadn't expected to be spending my Saturday evening tied to a chair in somebody else's kitchen, naked and sitting on a remote-control vibrator that was having its control passed around the room. I really hadn't. Mind you, I hadn't expected to be gagging to suck cock in public, either, so I suppose there's a first time for just about everything, and often all at once.

It came about like this: The other people whose chair I ended up tied to were Catherine and James, and they were the first friends I ever had who I was happy to see married and who I loved both of unreservedly. With every other couple I knew I had a favoured member. How they managed it I don't know, but I've been grateful for it many times in the past.

They were also swingers, and insisted on inviting me to their parties. I'm not prudish, I'm not inexperienced, and I'm also not connected, so after asking some very hard questions about who was coming and what usually happened, I went. 

And, of course, gave entirely the wrong impression by seeming nervous in front of them all, and having to be wooed by the extremely fit young man who eventually took me off to bed, instead of stalking him first. I spent the next day mentally kicking myself for it, and it took Catherine's breezy refusal to be gentle or take "Shut up!" for an answer to get me out of it. 

"Honey," she said after coming through my front door while I was still opening it, "You wouldn't be normal if you didn't act out of character when stepping into a new situation. Everyone is either withdrawn or too far out there. And most of the ones who get too hyper we end up throwing out. Oh yes, and sometimes people come along all confident, and quiet, and then panic and run screaming into the night." She leaned across to pat my hand. "You did great, darling!"

That did not stop me cursing myself for being a nervous, giggling fool, but it did mollify me a little. 

"You're coming next week, aren't you?"

I regained some self-respect through self-control by firmly saying "Maybe!" I managed to get through a very enjoyable social visit, several cups of tea and arguing about whether I should try and find a distance education course or just go back to Uni part time locally, without committing myself.

Which was good, because the night of the next party happened to coincide with a date, which worked well in that we decided we probably weren't suited for each other but shouldn't pass up the opportunity for a good hard fuck while it was there. I ended up staggering home from his place at about the time I would have left the party, pleasantly sore and rubbery-kneed, aching but not sore between my legs and only had to worry about one extra person knowing about the mole on my left bum cheek.

But I couldn't keep that up for ever, of course. I couldn't let myself escape the next party.

I turned up with a fairly sketchy approach to dressing. The aim was obviously to look decent and possibly even classy, but with a focus on eroticism and ease of access. Which basically meant flesh and short skirts, with maybe a lot of zips or loose things. 

So, without thinking too hard, I chose tall boots with high heels and suspender stockings, black silk panties that I knew could be pulled aside fairly easily, a short red and black tartan pattern pleated skirt that made me look like a schoolgirl (score one bonus point for adolescent male fantasies) and a tight black cotton top that outlined my breasts (fairly tight C-cups, if that matters) and had a scooped neckline that I would in other circumstances have described as indecently low but now seemed about right. I did wear a bra, choosing a black lace number that gave me a bit of lift for added cleavage and poked out around the edges of my top. After careful consideration, I tied a lace ribbon around my neck to act as a collar and add to my mental picture of myself as fairly confident, sexually.

I was still nervous as all hell when I walked up to their front door and rang the bell.

I was left waiting a fraction of a second too long for my self-assurance before James flung open the door, gave me a huge beaming smile, said "Christ, you look fuckable!" and swept me into a welcome hug. 

This is one reason I like them. No matter how much back-pedalling and double-taking your mind is trying to do, you're helpless in the fact of their honest happiness to see you. You can get desensitised to a lot of innuendo by Catherine and James.

"I had better fucking well look fuckable, it took me long enough to put this on!" I protested, but couldn't entirely avoid blushing slightly.

"Well it won't take nearly as long to get it off," he declared, seized my hand and started pulling me down the hallway. "Let's get a vote..."

I yanked backwards, going beet red. "Don't you dare!" I said, my voice going a bit squeaky, which I instantly hated myself for.

He relented, and gave me another hug. "Drinks are in the kitchen, help yourself, love," he said next to my ear, and then had to answer the door again while I escaped down the hallway.

In the kitchen where a couple of faces I thought I recognised, Catherine making the men talk dirty by wrapping her lips around the neck of a beer bottle, and a chair that I couldn't stop staring at.

Catherine plowed straight through the men - who didn't mind - and wrapped herself around me. "Hey, hun, glad you could make it!"

"Catherine," I said, "What the hell is that?" It was a simple wooden chair, strapped to the top of a table, quite sturdy, but it had straps bolted to it at strategic places, including for ankles, and for wrists behind each back leg. There was also an adjustable extension up the back, with another strap at about neck height. 

Catherine was suddenly behind me. I had no idea how she had managed it, but she leaning into my back with her arms around my waist, whispering into my ear. "That, my darling," she breathed," is our "Special chair!" She giggled, and her hands shot up to clasp my breasts.

Don't get me wrong, I'm as up for lipstick-lesbian cock-teasing as the next girl, but the situation made me nervous enough to yelp, to an explosion of what I could barely recognise as being good-natured laughter. 

A beer was thrust into my hands, and I drank a little too quickly until my face had cooled down.

Somehow I managed to avoid looking at the chair again, and found myself in the lounge where one couple were already approaching the mutual stripping stage of slow dancing, at least one of the shadowy corners was occupied and I appeared to be talking to a tall, long-fingered man who was pleasant enough to not be threatening.

I was still sufficiently rattled that my small-talk consisted of whispering "Some people are getting into it early!"

His reply was easy and amused for the right reasons. "Yeah! A few people get here and are so horny they need one to start with, and a few people are trying to see how many they can get during the night."

"How many condoms do they go through??" 

"I really don't want to know that!" he laughed, and I had to laugh with him. I finished my beer, but before he could jump in to try and be gentlemanly and prevent me leaping up to get another one, Catherine wandered through with spares. 

"Just to let you know," she said casually, "This room is public sex, the garage is group sex - it's insulated, don't look at me like that! - and the three bedrooms are available, but there might be a line. I've scattered condoms about if you run out."

"Run out?" I asked incredulously, "What are you expecting of me?" 

She sighed theatrically, and rolled her eyes at my conversation partner. "Jeremy, loosen her up, would you?"

She was gone before I could throw my empty beer bottle at her.

#

Okay, yes, we went to find a bedroom while Jeremy was still laughing. I had to prove that he didn't need to "loosen me up".

It turned out that he had a sumptuous, satisfying cock and an even more satisfying tongue. Now, normally I would be quite happy with keeping him there, but the rooms did need to be shared, and he was interested in wandering some more, and anyway, I still had a point to prove.

I was slightly dishevelled and satisfyingly tingly when we left to let the next couple (actually, threesome) in, and not a little floppy at the knees. 

Then I went into the kitchen to find another beer, to rinse my mouth out before I needed to kiss anyone else.

Which was when it all started.

#

A woman let out a ragged edge-of-orgasm moan when I entered the kitchen, and started gasping "Oh please let me cum, please let me cum, please let me cum," over and over again to a background of general sounds of approval - most of them male, a few female. 

That brought me up short at the door. 

Fully clothed party goers (taking the term loosely, in some cases, both sexes) stood around the edge of the room, leaning on bench tops or against the fridge or each other. In the middle of the room, was the chair strapped to the table. 

Sitting in the chair was a naked woman who I didn't recognise. Her knees were spread so that her legs ran down the outside of the chair legs, where her ankles were held securely by the straps. Rope around her waist kept her against the chair back, and her arms disappeared behind it.

She was coated in sweat, and had some fancy silver clamps attached to her nipples, and she seemed to be sitting on a large, red vibrator which had a thick arm curving up the front, right over her clitoris. 

Suddenly she screamed, her body jerking against the restraints (which would explain why the chair was strapped to the table!) before collapsing back, moaning "Oh god, please get me over with!"

There was general applause and one man, who I saw was holding a small box the same red as the vibrator, gave an exaggerated bow and then passed the box to the woman on his left, who did something which elicited a gasp from the woman in the chair.

I was paralysed, frozen in the door of the kitchen, when Catherine spotted me and vigorously waved me over, a broad grin on her face. I gave her a dazed look, and she responded with a now wicked grin, and waved a beer bottle at me tantalisingly. I gave in, and with an effort stepped inside and walked quickly past the table to where she was standing, while trying not to stare too hard at the woman on the chair.

Catherine handed me the opened beer and made space for me to lean against the bench. We were looking at the bound woman's back. This close, I could see drops of sweat slowly running down her torso.

The sight was disturbingly erotic, something my nipples couldn't help but noticing and, given what I was wearing, everyone else couldn't help noticing my nipples.

I tried to cover up my embarrassment by gulping beer, and nearly choked.

"Glad you could drop in," Catherine said with an appreciative leer at my nipples which I only half noticed and didn't have the spare mental capacity to get unnerved by.

"You, um, do this at every party?" I tried to ask casually, after getting my breath back. I followed it with a more controlled but just as large swig.

"Oh, usually. Not the same way twice, though. Last time was a hogtie and a hand-operated Hitachi. But James and I bought that vibrator on Wednesday and we couldn't wait to try it out."

I didn't want to ask what a 'Hitachi' was. "Have you?" I asked, trying to turn it back on her.

"Oh yes, you missed that bit," she replied with a wicked grin that made part of my mind want to run away from the wolf. "Erin up there thought I had so much fun she was naked before I was finished."

While I was processing that, a short but handsome man on the other side of me chimed in with "Which we had to appreciate - shame to leave a naked body alone!"

This raised a general cheer, which was drowned by another desperate scream from Erin. And that raised more applause. 

"Pete," Erin said in a ragged voice. "Get your fucking cock up here now!"

To general acclamation, a widely grinning man I later learned to be her husband clambered up onto the table, stood in front of her and, unzipping his pants, fed her a sumptuously fat cock. As hungry slurping sounds spread throughout the room, I suddenly found the controller thrust into my hands.

I nearly dropped it as if it were red hot. Catherine leaned over my shoulder, and pointed at it. "It's got different controls for the anal, vaginal and clitoral bits, but you can just turn that knob and run them all together."

"I'm not doing that!" I said in an unexpectedly squeaky voice.

There was a good-humoured round of encouragement as Catherine said, with a smirk, "The rules are that she can't cum until everyone in the room has had a go. You're nearly the last one. Off you go!"

Then, just as I was wondering in a panic how to get out of this, she grabbed my breast in one hand and I nearly fainted as a jolt of pure pleasure went straight through me. I had to grab the counter for support, and felt the sensation mingling with a general roar of approval from the crowd.

Suddenly there was a man in front of me sliding his hand over my other breast, and his voice mingled with Catherine's to say "We know your body's responding. We know you like this and want to know what it would be like to sit in that chair. Give a little pleasure first."

At that point, my thumb jabbed at the vibrator control.

The woman on the chair convulsed again, made a muffled sound and Pete's knees nearly buckled. "Oh fuck yeah!" he gasped, as the crowd cheered again. 

Suddenly it was as if I had stepped over a line into drunk and impulsive, and laughed helplessly as I gave the control another twist. Erin convulsed so hard she nearly moved the table, and Pete gave a holler that was nearly pain as his body yanked his cock out of Erin's mouth. 

Suddenly Catherine's hand, over mine, twisted the vibrator down to nearly not running. "Careful," she said with as much grin in her voice as she was wearing on her face. "You nearly had her over!"

Erin groaned again, even more raggedly. "Oh please! Pete, get the fuck back here!"

As her hungry slurps sounded again, the man whose hand had not yet left my breast took the controller gently away from me and passed it to another woman, who licked her lips and said in an impish voice "I get to finish her off, don't I?" to a chorus of catcalls, cheers and a grateful, wet whining noise from Erin as Pete's cheeks flushed and he began to breathe with a lot of self-conscious self-control.

All I was really paying attention to was Catherine's hands, which had slid around me from behind and were cupping and massaging my breasts. I dimly felt her pressing against my back, with her hips pushing mine forwards and her breasts squashing against me, but those sensations were muted in comparison. The man in front of me, a complete stranger who had a sensuous and honest face, ran his fingertips lightly over the exposed tops of my breasts, then reached down and put his hand firmly over my suddenly throbbing cunt as Catherine found and pinched my nipples. 

What felt like a brief return to sanity and doubt disappeared and I nearly collapsed, hands fumbling desperately for the bench top to keep me up. Catherine held me firmly by my breasts, which didn't help my knees at all.

"You'd like to go next," she breathed in my ear which, at that point, was correct. The man in front of me, without removing his hand from my groin or even moving it at all, began to kiss me lightly and said, in a voice which I suddenly realised was like being caressed with velvet, "You want your fantasies to come true."

My head fell back onto Catherine's shoulder and I gave a ragged moan. I barely hear Pete's shuddering grunt as he came into his wife's mouth or her high, loud and long scream as she finally came, soaking the vibrator and the chair with her cum. They penetrated my mind only as even more delirium-inducing sensation.

Before I knew what was happening, I was naked again, standing in a brightly lit kitchen, surrounded by a few friends and many strangers, seeing an exhausted and very nearly unconscious woman being lifted down off a kitchen table and watching as the chair was carefully wiped down. Catherine and the strange man kept caressing me, which was enough to stop me asking questions of myself, or panicking. 

Suddenly I was being helped up onto the table, and either the nearness of the chair, the effort I had to expend, or the changed perspective of the crowd, now all grinning madly and watching me much more obviously, made me nervous again.

It is ridiculous to get suddenly nervous when you are naked and about to be strapped to a chair with a complicated vibrator inside you, but I managed it anyway.

"I'm really going to regret this, aren't I?" I asked, staring at rope in the strange man's hands.

Catherine rushed to reassure me. "I hope not, darling," she said, kissing me on the cheek. "You have the same right to back out as you always have. But we hope that you'll relax and enjoy yourself instead!"

I gave a nervous, slightly hollow laugh and then the dildo, freshly cleaned and glistening with fresh lube, was held up by one of the other women present, and my knees went so weak I didn't so much sit in the chair as fall on it. The vibrator had a long, curved base from which a butt plug sprang at one end, and a 7" dildo and French tickler at the other. The whole thing was scarlet, and covered with little nodules.

They had to, laughingly, get me to lift myself up and then, carefully, while my heart was beating so fast I thought my ears would burst, Catherine slid it between my legs and pressed upwards.

I thought for one giddy second, before the sensation of it entering my recently-fucked pussy made thought a little difficult, that they hadn't asked me how I felt about having things in my arse. Lucky I don't care either way, I half-thought, and then my knees buckled and I dropped again, Catherine whipping her hand away, and landed on it, shoving it the rest of the way in.

"Sweet Jesus FUCK!" I gasped out, getting a brief spattering of applause and much laughter.

While I was trying to get my breath back, I felt the man's hands loop rope around my waist until a strap of five strands, against each other, held me snugly in place. He tested, tightened, adjusted and tied off with speed and care that spoke of considerable amounts of experience. Then his hands pulled mine back and clipped them into the cuffs, which tightened as he adjusted them. Catherine's hands spread my knees apart and they each buckled one leg to the chair. 

I had a sudden, sideways thought. "What's your name?" I asked the intently working, strangely compelling man.

He flashed me a smile, but I took more notice of the twinkle in his eyes. "Clay," he said. "I'm very pleased to meet you." Somehow, that was the most erotic thing anyone had said to me that evening.

I managed to prevent myself from answering, because I knew that the only sound I would be able to make would be a sort of squeaking noise.

Then suddenly I was alone on the table, and it hit me how exposed I was. I almost gave a nervous laugh, but had enough self-control to stop it mid-throat. 

Catherine walked in front of me holding the remote control, with another of her wicked grins plastered onto her face. She held up the remote and waggled it in front of me.

"Now," she said, completely unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. "These are the rules, in case you've forgotten. This gets passed around the room, and everyone gets a chance to play with you, before you're done. We are going to try our best not to make you cum before we're finished, unless you request multiples, of course, but I must warn you that if you do, we won't be stopping. Any questions?"


Sarah: Party Bondage Ch. 02



 Author's note:

As promised in the first instalment, I wrote this because I got some good feedback. Some of it was good enough to result in a character :)

I am always open to taking submissions from people who want to be in one of my stories. Not that this has happened before, but I liked doing it, so I'd like to do it again.

I wrote this in essentially three sittings, which is a bit of a record for me, and there should be enough hints here to lead in any sort of direction when I feel like doing the next one.

If you haven't read the first "Sarah: Party Bondage", this will still be a hot story (I promise, really!) but a few things may be explained for you if you go back and read that first.

I hope you enjoy it!

================

The party had been on Friday night.

Saturday, after Clay dropped me home at 11:00am, had been spent between the bed, couch, kitchen, toilet and bathroom. I moved for biological need only, and that included chips and ice cream.

Sunday, Catherine gave me until the afternoon before coming by, looking as breezy as ever, but with an added wicked glint to her eye this time.

I was still in my dressing gown when I opened the door, and intended to remain in it until I went to bed.

I got a hug, a kiss and a fleeting impression of air movement as she went past into the kitchen, and had herself lounging in one of my chairs before I got the door closed. 

"Coffee?" She asked hopefully as I shuffled back into the kitchen with the absolute minimum of effort. "You're not still tired, are you?" she asked as I flicked the Gaggia on and poured more water into it. 

"Have a little faith, please, darling," I replied as I fished the jar of coffee out of the fridge. "This is my weekend off. Be glad I answered the door at all."

She raised her eyebrows at me but had the grace to wait until I had measured, tamped and had turned on the infernally noisy old espresso maker before she tried to say anything. I pulled a shot, turned it off and waited patiently for her to repeat herself. 

"I said," she enunciated with exaggerated clarity, "That I hope you'll be coming to our next party."

"How long, exactly, do I have to recover?"

"Two weeks. Every second Friday, until further notice."

"What happens on the other Fridays?"

"Private time," she said with such relish in her voice that I quailed from asking exactly what that might mean.

"Maybe," I extemporised as I prepared a shot for myself, and then drowned out what she said next.

She waited until I had presented her with her usual cappuccino - double strength, heavy froth, chocolate sprinkled on top and not too hot - before repeating herself this time.

"I hope you'll come," she said, taking a sip and nodding in approval, which is our ritual way of ensuring that she's welcome in my kitchen ever again, "I've got a friend staying from America."

"Oh?"

"Yes." A wicked light slid sideways into her eyes, and I prepared myself for the worst. "Suzanne. The biggest little slut I have ever had the pleasure of."

"Just to clarify here," I said, sliding a question in edgeways, "Because I don't think we've ever actually mentioned this. Just how bisexual are you?"

"Anything with a pulse," she said promptly, before going back to her story. "Suzanne is short, green-eyed, and I really hope that she'll live up to her promise of being the house slut next - which is to say, this - time. It's coincidence that James and I won't have her to ourselves, but she will be staying over the party weekend and, well, I intend to make sure that we make full use of her particular talents."

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and a swallow of coffee, and kept my eyes closed as I asked "What special talents?"

"Everything with a pulse." I swear, Catherine's voice had so much lascivious enjoyment in it that my skin crawled right off my body and slunk into the bathroom to have a shower.

"Ahah," I said flatly.

"Available for all," Catherine continued, before I held up my hand to stop her.

"You do want me to come to this second party, don't you?" I asked.

She gave me a look of wide-eyed hurt. "Whyever wouldn't you?"

"Look, darling, when I decided to come to a meat market, no offence intended, I wasn't expecting to be strapped to a chair as public property. You could at least have warned me. Whatever might happen next I dread to think, but I am not, at this particular point in time, interested in anything except cock, and I'll suffer you to remember that, okay?"

The bitch just sat there grinning at me and drinking my special blend.

The next party was, actually, on a night I both had off and was feeling horny. Possibly, truth be told, because both Catherine and Clay, who I saw once more the next weekend, talked me, sorry, my body, into it.

So I presented, wearing pretty much the same thing as before - black lace G-string, no bra under a loose blouse because I had a bit more self-confidence this time, and pleated short skirt. I had my tallest pair of boots on, and polished them until you could almost see all the way up my legs in the toes.

Catherine opened the door, and she was wearing a red and black corset that gave her a cleavage you could crack walnuts in. If I had been shorter, I might have smothered to death when she hugged me, but instead I just got bruised nipples off the whalebone. 

"Catherine," I asked, managing the extremely rare trick of plowing into her train of thought and derailing it, "Where the hell did you get that?"

"$700," she replied promptly, before ushering me in and closing the door. Possibly so her legs, which were bare all the way south of her leather g-string to her strappy 4" heels, didn't catch a chill.

I found myself steered inexorably in the direction of the lounge, and managed to twist my way sideways to the kitchen, snaffling a beer for each of us before anything else happened. Holding it in front of me like an ice-cold shield, I let myself be lead the rest of the way to a room which was, despite my suspicions, surprisingly quiet still.

It had been rearranged a little, and now had a square table in the middle. The top was covered in a thick blanket, not a cloth, and I mentally heaved a sigh and cast my gaze around the rest of the room. Specifically to the corner I was being steered towards. 

"Suzanne, Sarah. Sarah, Suzanne." Catherine, for once, was the sole of brevity as the girl curled up in the armchair waved her beer at me and grinned hello from the middle of her ring of casually present men. 

"Hello," she said in an enticingly soft drawl that Mark Twain could have written down, from a face that, with eyes that actually were green and short hair that was on the brown side of auburn in the dim party lighting, screamed Ireland. Dammit, if she had been a boy I would have sat in her lap and fought off all comers. "Pull up a boy and join me," she continued, causing a flurry of widely grinning men to offer their laps from where they sat on the chair arm, foot-stalls or even the floor.

With a struggle, I avoided slipping into a travesty of her accent - I'm a vocal lyrebird, and not deliberately so - and gave a curtsy before I said "Well, I would love to, but I've only just arrived and I need to circulate. I'm sure I'll see more of you later."

"Oh, I hope you'll see all of me later!" She called after me with a wave as Catherine and I retreated to pastures new.

"The setup is a little different, this time," she informed me as we headed back to the kitchen. "We're not having a display in the kitchen this time, it's just for chatting, the lounge is public displays and group sex if wanted, there are a couple of heavy BDSM couples who asked to come, so they get the garage. The rooms are still private, of course."

We got to the kitchen. There were now people in it, and within thirty seconds of walking into the door, four of them had said hello and told me that they were glad I had come back. I'm not sure if my face went crimson or just pink as I tried to hide behind my beer, and then Catherine helpfully pointed out that the loose blouse I was wearing was doing fabulous things with my nipples.

I looked down, startled, and saw two rigid tuning knobs staring straight back at me. I cleared my throat, and felt the evidence of my own sexuality flip me straight back into self-confidence.

"I like my nipples," I said defiantly, rolling my shoulders back a little to pull my blouse tighter over my breasts, "And so does everyone else, by the looks of it."

That laugh was on my side, and Catherine gave me a half-smug, half-beaming smile. 

"What exactly is happening in the garage?" I asked, wanting to know exactly what 'heavy BDSM' meant.

"Come and have a look," Catherine said, deftly managing to swap my beer with a fresh one and take my other hand without putting her own bottle down.

The garage was against the house, but due to the vagaries of the existing architecture when it had been built, and the lack of funds of the owners who had done it, there isn't a door directly through to it. There are two ways in - the automatic door for the cars, and a side door for humans, leading into the back yard. We took the door for humans, passing three couples in various states of passionate sprawl about the yard and the garden furniture and, it turned out, this was at least partly because the automatic doors were inaccessible because of the extra sound-proofing against them, and the extremely solid wooden cross set up in front of them. There were shackles on it, and with a flashback to the kitchen chair I felt my pussy spasm when I looked at it, but any possibility of getting involved was chilled by the three couples who were there.

The first one consisted of a tall, soft-faced but hard-eyed woman barely dressed in well-worn leather G-string, thigh-high boots and low-cut corset, sitting on the back of a stocky man, wearing only a gimp-mask, sturdy collar with attached chain, and leather G-string, who was on hands and knees on the floor.

The second couple was the other way around - an entirely naked woman with thin chains linking her collar with her nipple piercings sat with rigidly straight back, eyes downcast and arms behind her at the foot of a lanky, tough-seeming man with piratically cocky eyes and grin, who wore a leather biker vest and dusty leather trousers and chunky boots.

The third couple was lesbian, and I could barely take my eyes off the sub, who was what I can only describe as a pony-girl. She had a sturdy bit in her mouth, long hair held back in what looked just like a show-horse's tail plait, and was standing on painfully high-looking boots with no heels and actual horseshoes under the toes. Her girlfriend, who carried a riding crop - there were pink marks across the pony-girl's thighs and bare belly, below breasts which were framed but not actually covered by a bra consisting of studded leather straps in a net arrangement - was actually wearing black leather jodhpurs, and a corset that gave her both the narrowest waist I have ever seen in real life, and a cleavage she could hide a beer bottle in.

"Oh good, you got here!" Catherine exclaimed to the lesbians, and got a warm hug from the, well, "rider" as the domme and the -atrix looked me up and down with a calculating air and the half-humorous smiles of people who know that you were hoping to be entertained, but don't have the balls to go through with it.

Catherine, of course, the gracious hostess, had to introduce me around and I promptly forgot everyone's name. Except for the rider, who was called Kate, and who asked me if I was really the Sarah who had given such a good show the previous party, would I like to be strapped to the St Andrews Cross with a vibrator inside me?

I managed to say something about not being warmed up yet.

"Well," she said, turning to run the head of the riding crop over her pony's crotch, and then snap it sharply against the leather boy-leg shorts, making the girl jump with a squeal, "The offer stays open. I'd love to attach clover clamps to those delicious nipples of yours."

I may have been in shock when I left. "Okay," I said as soon as we were out of earshot. "I had no idea that people actually did that!"

"That extreme? Honey, you ain't seen nothin' yet. Ever heard of blood-work?"

"Don't want to!"

So I may have been a little flustered when we walked back into the lounge, and I got my second look at Suzanne.

The American girl had been wearing a vinyl mini-skirt and a shockingly pink tube-top. Both had been pushed upwards. She had a man kneeling in front of her with his head in her crotch, and both breasts were being fondled by two other men, one of whom had his swollen cock energetically wanked by her left hand, and the other had his even more swollen cock energetically sucked as her right hand groped his balls.

At this point I made my crucial tactical error.

I turned to Catherine and said, without thinking about it, "Now that's more my thing!"

By the time my brain had caught up with my mouth via my ears, Suzanne had popped her lips off the cock and said "There's plenty of spare cocks here, girlfriend!"

It was only then that I noticed that all the men in the room were naked, and none of them were limp. Well, how could you blame them?

I froze, frantically re-running that sentence through my mind to see if it gave me an out, when the nearest man began walking towards me, held out his hand and said "May I help you out of your clothes?"

In the back of my head, a little voice said "Fuck it, then him."

I grabbed the bottom of my blouse and pulled it up over my head, noticing his eyes slide south from my eyes to my breasts and his grin widen. "You can help me with my skirt," I said with a deliberately excessive flutter of eyelashes, "And my boots."

"But the boots look so sexy!" He exclaimed as he dropped to his knees in front of me. "Can't we leave them on?"

"Whatever you sa..." I started to say, but as his expert hands found the zip behind my back and undid my skirt, pushing it down off my hips with his thumbs hooked into my G-string to take it along for the ride, I got a burst of horniness that closed up my throat and choked off the rest of the sentence.

I felt the world accelerating, and the two beers I had drunk went straight to my prefrontal cortex and sat there whooping with glee. I suddenly remembered the previous party, and the chair, and Clay's cock in my mouth as the vibrator made me climax, and that memory sat in my cunt and begged for more. Suddenly I didn't care what happened so long as it involved sex.

My skirt and my G-string reached my ankles, and he reached up to slide two fingers straight into my cunt, I had got wet so fast. "What would you like?" He asked with a wicked grin on his face as he knelt there, looked up at me and with two fingers soaking in my juices.

"A chair," I replied before my knees buckled. He caught me with ease, and put me down not on a chair but the blanket-covered table, with my head hanging off one side and my legs hanging off the other, leaving my back slightly arched and my pussy feeling more open and exposed than it ever had before. 

While my head was digesting this, I felt his hands pushing my thighs apart and the first, burning lap of his tongue along my lips.

"Just fuck me," I groaned, the ceiling swimming in front of my eyes, and for some reason he didn't try and argue. I heard the unmistakable sound of a condom packet being opened, and about two seconds later he pushed into me smoothly and, although with care, firmly. 

"Oh FUCK yes," I gasped as he settled into a smooth, slow rhythm obviously meant to keep us both going for hours.

I heard Suzanne say something I couldn't quite make out, and a moment later I found her next to me, four men, one on each limb, carrying her from the chair and laying her on the table.

I rolled my head towards her, more an automatic gesture than a conscious one, and found her strangely distorted, half-upside down face grinning at me, auburn hair hanging below her, lips already cum-streaked. She looked as though she was about to say something, then gasped with the cross-eyed look of someone who has just been shafted in the good way, giggled, and twisted her head back, opening her mouth wide and taking in, almost before I had blinked, a cock which slid between her lips and swelled her throat until her nose was blocked by his scrotum.

He began a smooth stroke in and out of her throat as her eyes glazed over with the sort of brainless happiness that I used to think was only available from a needle.

A masculine finger stroked my cheek and I rolled my eyes backwards, staring up past the head of a cock to a smiling face far above me. He looked a question at me. 

"Not yet," I gasped. He bent down to kiss me, then trailed his mouth down my neck and towards my breast. I bit my lip and whimpered in anticipatory pleasure until he got to my nipple and begun sucking gently, and I gasped with real pleasure. I felt a hand upon my other breast, seeking out my nipple blindly, capturing it and rolling and tugging upon it, making me whimper again, but...

"Is that you, Suzanne?" I asked, twisting my neck to look at her. She couldn't exactly talk, or nod, but her eyes rolled towards me and twinkled with glee. I let my head drop back, and closed my eyes in pleasure. I am being touched by a woman, I thought, And I don't care.

Suddenly there was a sprinkling of applause and admiring sounds above the rising gasping of the three men with their cocks buried inside us.

I opened my eyes again, and saw, upside down, Catherine walking slowly into the room with a strange contraption floating above her hand. My brain corrected its perspective with a wrench, and at the same time I saw what she jad dangling below her hand. There was a long, thin perspex rod. Through the middle, ran a much thinner metal rod. At one end was a flat plate, at the other end, a perspex knob. She was holding the knob, and dangling from each end of the thick perspex rod was a complicated little metal device I had never seen before.

"This," she said as she approached and saw the confusion in my eyes, "Is a Tower of Pain." I heard the capitals slot into place, and I heard desperate, begging qualities enter the low murmurs of pleasure that had been coming from Suzanne's stuffed throat. Glancing sideways I saw her eyes wide open, with a pleading look in them. 

Catherine, who heard the same noises and was grinning madly in response, moved to the other side of Suzanne, and out of my frame of reference.

My neck, unused to this position, couldn't lift my head, but I felt a hand do it for me, so I could watch as she placed the plate, which was loosely figure-8 shaped, between Suzanne's gravity-flattened breasts. Each metal contraption dangled down over a nipple, and I suddenly understood what they were. 

"These," Catherine continued, smoothly, "Are clover clamps. Another wonderful invention by those fiendish Japanese." Balancing the contraption carefully on Suzanne's gently rocking torso, she pinched one nipple firmly between finger and thumb, pulled it upwards and, with a twist of her fingers, opened the bizarre clamp and closed it over Suzanne's most sensitive flesh. 

The sound she made was almost orgasmic and her fingers tightened painfully on my nipple, making me jerk and nearly shout with a sensation that was pain but was also a completely unexpected pleasure. I heard two shuddering male groans and felt the man inside me slam hard into me and then stop, and saw Suzanne stop rocking for an instant. The men in both our cunts had cum together. I felt him withdraw, heard shuffling noises, and I felt another condomed cock press into me as I saw a pleasure in Suzanne's eyes that mirrored what I was feeling.

"The thing about a clover clamp," Catherine continued as she fastened the other nipple, "Is that the more you pull on this end, the more the jaws at that end, tighten." She began to twist the knob, and I saw that the metal rod was threaded, and that it was lifting the perspex bar, and the clamps, further from Suzanne's chest, taking her nipples with it, slowly pulling her breasts back into a breast shape as they rose from her chest.




Sarah: Party Bondage Ch. 02



The pressure she was exerting on my nipple steadily increased as her nipples were first just pulled and then distended, and I whimpered with pain that I didn't really want to go away. I could see Suzanne's breasts actually stretched before Catherine was satisfied and stopped turning the knob, and I barely noticed the man in her mouth shudder, jerk back and fill her wide-open mouth with squirts of milky cum, her throat swallowing convulsively, as I saw Catherine turn her wicked gaze on me.

Suddenly she was standing next to me, and the man behind me was still holding my head up. She held two soft rubber cylinders in front of my eyes. "These are snake-bite cylinders," she said to a background of applause and catcalls. "They have, and please believe me on this, enough suction to extract venom from your body." She squeezed each one, hard, and then pressed them down over my nipples, Suzanne's hand gently removed by the same man who was holding my head up.

Then she released her grip on the cylinders, they sprang back to their normal shape, and I cried out again. It was like a mouth on each breast had sucked hard enough to bruise, and then not let up. I nearly begged to have them taken off, but then the man fucking me put his thumb on my clit and I changed my mind. 

My head was slowly lowered back to hanging off the table, but, courteously, nobody tried to fill my mouth until I asked them to. Maybe they were just loving the noises I was making. Suzanne had another cock between her lips, and had the completely unfocused, dreamy look of someone in a trance. Then, while I watched, the look slid smoothly to someone on the verge of cumming, then the man in her mouth grunted almost in surprise as a sudden flash of hunger on her face was accompanied by her cheeks hollowing and moulding to the shape of his shaft, and she came with a violent spasm that nearly threw her off the table.

The sight nearly pushed me over the edge, but there was too much going on, too many sensations and I couldn't concentrate, or relax, enough.

I just kept groaning, feeling the sexual assault on my body peel away layers of mind until all that was left was a turmoil of raw need. Then I heard more more cheers from the men, and forced myself to focus as Catherine, who must have left god knows how long ago, walked back in with a shining, black cock strapped to the front of her crotch. 

"Has either of them cum yet?" she asked as she walked in. 

Suzanne made happy noises under the sound of several men updating Catherine, and she said "Good. Can I have the next go?"

I thought she meant Suzanne. I just assumed she meant Suzanne. Do you blame me?

The man inside me shuddered and jerked, held rigid for a second, then relaxed and pulled out, leaving me feeling achingly empty. "God, hurry up!" I groaned, from my position staring at the door. Then, as I felt two hands on my hips and a fat cock slide inside me, Catherine said "Patience, I'm here," and my eyes nearly flew out of my head.

She began to fuck me hard, ramming her unnaturally long cock so far into me that it hit my cervix with each thrust. 

Between the completely unprecedented situation, the high-pressure pain on my nipples, and the pooling of blood in my head from the posture, I struggled for any grip on the fact that, never having felt any lesbian tendencies, I was now being fucked by a woman and groaning with pleasure with every movement she made.

I needed a man's touch to ground me back in reality, to justify my pleasure, and my gasping, fish-like motions were correctly interpreted. The cock was slid into my mouth gently and carefully, and I gulped, swallowing it, until I felt the intense, masculine, totally intoxicating odour of the man's groin through his sac pressed into my nose.

He began to fuck my face as Catherine kept up her movements, and I rolled my eyes sideways, to see how Suzanne was doing, maybe because I was suddenly competitive, and saw her still blissfully trance-like but with rivulets of cum sliding down her cheeks, over her eye and into her hair as yet another hard cock fucked her throat.

I suddenly imagined the same thing happening to me, and closed my eyes, not sure if it was in despair or hope or desperate, perverted need.

Somehow my own orgasm was no nearer, despite the fact that I was absolutely, at this point helplessly, overridden by lust and the need to be used.

I was shaking, probably flushed scarlet all over my chest, but somehow not quite feeling there, not really in touch with own orgasm, when the man in my mouth pulled out and came in great ropey spurts onto my tits.

That did it. That was what I needed.

I exploded. I think I may have levitated off the table. I was definitely screaming, and possibly cursing as well. Suddenly the pain in my nipples was worth it.

Suzanne came again just after I did - I swear the little slut was being competitive - and the two men inside her also finished.

I had no idea how many men had taken her at each end. I had no idea even how many had taken me before Catherine stepped in. I didn't even know how many men there were.

There was a pause in proceedings until I calmed down and got my breath back. Somebody carefully removed the snakebite cups from my nipples, which were swollen, purple and aching when I got a chance to look at them, with distinct rings where the cups had pressed into my breasts, neatly around each aureole.

"Would you like some more?" Catherine asked, stroking my forehead with that obscene leather cock bobbing away next to my face, coated in my juices. "There are still men here who can keep going."

"I need a rest," I gasped out, blood thumping in my temples and my body quailing from any more abuse, at least for a while. 

Suzanne, predictably, started chanting "Cock! Here cock, cock, cock, co... OH YES," as a man tried to silence her by force of fuck, and soon she was silenced rather more effectively by another fleshy gag.

I was gently picked up and carried over to a couch, and Catherine, who seemed to be everywhere at once, handed me a beer and a towel. I almost decided to leave the cum drying on my chest as a sort of badge of pride, but decided that that would be a little tacky. I wiped it off.

Somebody else thoughtfully left my clothes over the back of the couch for me and then strolled back to the table, cock still bobbing. I looked around in disbelief. There wasn't one flaccid organ in the room. "Is everyone in here on Viagra?" I asked, not to anyone in particular, but Catherine heard.

She was, I hadn't realised, perched on the arm of the couch, still wearing that fucking dildo. "No, but do you see anyone who isn't fit? Besides, there's been some changeover since you started. A couple of new arrivals."

I had noticed how fit they were, yes, and I wouldn't have been surprised if everyone in the house had followed the screaming. I was vaguely wondering where the other women were, until I noticed one of them climbing onto the table face down and dropping her face into Suzanne's lap as a man lined up on her from behind.

I let my head drop back onto the cushions with a groan. 

"So, are you coming to my next party?" Catherine asked, trying to sound innocent.

"Yes, I'll come to your next fucking party," I replied, before sculling the rest of the beer.



Sarah: Party Bondage Ch. 03



Author's note:

This really won't make much sense at all unless you've read Party Bondage 2, which will make more sense if you've read Party Bondage, so I really do suggest that you read that first.

This has a bit more explicit and up-front character development in it than I normally bother with, and it's there for two reasons: I'm starting to care more about Sarah, and; some feedback I've received has told me that I need to clarify the situation and the personalities and relationships a little more. 

Don't worry, there's some very dirty sex coming later on!

============

My second party took me a while to recover from.

I spent all of Saturday unsettled, trying to relax on my weekend off and failing miserably. There's enough extrovert in my personality that, once I had accepted that I could turn up to a swinger's party and let everyone know that I was there for the same reason they were, putting on a good show wasn't too big a stretch for me. Hell, I could probably be a pole-dancer if I were a bit fitter and more desperate for money.

But I felt used. I have sex because It's really, really enjoyable, but no matter how hard I came on that table, I still felt like a piece of meat that they had been nice to. Knowing how much of a self-confessed whore Suzanne was didn't help either - lying next to her, having the same things happen, didn't sit well with me once I had calmed down and thought about it.

I didn't want to speak to anyone all day, but by Sunday morning I did. I was up and dressed and the Gaggia was already hot by the time Catherine dropped by. She gave me her usual greeting, was sprawled on one of my kitchen chairs by the time I had closed the door and walked back up my hallway, and raised her eyebrows at my manner.

She even waited until I had made us coffee, instead of trying to talk over the vibrating, rumbling, rattling old beast of an espresso maker.

"What's up?" She asked, as soon as she had taken her ritual first sip and given her ritual, grateful nod of approval.

"Friday night. I'm not sure I'm happy with where I went."

She nodded and took another sip of coffee. "Are you mad at me for what I did?"

"Not sure yet."

"I was wondering about that. Sarah, you know I love you, and you know that I say everything for a reason - you may not have been ready. Let me guess: You're thinking 'I'm not a slut like that Suzanne, how dare they just use me like that?' Am I right?"

"A little."

"Of course you are. Because you're not used to the scene, and you haven't seen anything like that before in real life. Let me stress that 'Real life' part. Do you know what the first rule of BDSM is?"

"I have no idea."

"Respect, and permission, and choice. You remember those three couples you met? The naked girl kneeling on the floor is an office manager. She can directly fire seven people, and she likes being shown off because it makes her feel good to have people admire her body, and to let somebody else make all the decisions. If you touched her without permission, her owner would break your fingers. The chair? He runs an entire company. He comes home at the end of the day, head hurting from responsibility and trying to not fire anyone the way the world's going, and he gets to relax and say "Yes, Mistress" to his wife and not care about anything until he gets in his car the next morning. The pony girl has just always wanted to be a horse - no idea why.

"Look, Sarah, the point is that if you had said 'No, stop!' at any point, you would have been dressed and in a chair before your mouth had shut. I don't run 'anything goes' parties, I run 'anything may go' parties. Look, I've been shackled on hands and knees and sucking every cock in the room while being spanked and told what a nasty whore I am. It makes me feel good to let go occasionally."

"Should I be worried that that image didn't make me cringe?"

"Honey, the best way to approach the world is to go far enough to know where your limits are, and then remember them. If spanking isn't for you, nobody is going to spank you. If you are having trouble grappling with the idea that somewhere inside you there may be a sexually liberated woman saying 'Sex? Hell yeah, bring it on!', then my advice is to give her a good spanking and tell her who's boss. Next time, don't get laid out, lay them out."

She finished her coffee while my mind was trying to work out where her metaphors had been going, and took refuge in the fairly automatic process of refilling it.

I sat down again, and leaned forwards with a calculated air of being about to speak. Catherine let me.

"Look, Catherine," I said. "You know I love you, and respect you, and know just how much experience you've got but... Honey, none of that sunk in. What the hell are you talking about?"

Catherine gave me a hard look, and ignored her fresh coffee. She leaned forward. "You," she said, quietly and with a touch of compassion in her voice, "Need to get to know yourself a little better. I don't want you spending the next few years slowly getting to terms with what's inside you. I think you need a private party."

I was speechless for a second, then: "How the fuck is that supposed to help?"

"Darling, consider it a therapy session. You get to play around as and how you wish, no pressure, just fun. Me, James, Suzanne'll be here for another week, so we can give her a going-away present next Friday if you're comfortable with her... We'll need another two men. I'll get Clay, and I'll borrow a sub. How's that?

I sat back and stared at her, properly speechless, until she raised an eyebrow at me and said "Well?" in a meaningful tone of voice.

I finally found mine. "Can I get back to you?" I asked, slightly squeaky. 

She shrugged, and picked up her mug. "Sure. Just let me know by Tuesday. Give me time to plan a few things."

She stayed to chat about everything but anything to do with sex for another half hour, and I was feeling mostly human by the time she left. Then I rang Clay.

#

I had only seen Clay once since the first party, and although he had made me promise to go to the second, he had been sick for the night and hadn't turned up to take his turn on me. 

He felt a little safer than Catherine, who had fucked me with a strap-on while I had a cock down my throat, and he was intelligent and less forthright than Catherine, as well.

We met at a local cafe, and he refused to not shout me lunch.

As he was rather better paid than I, I didn't argue for too long.

My chicken Caesar salad was fancy enough to be slightly poncy, but delicious. His turkey focaccia was pretentious, but also delicious. I let him choose wine, so long as it wasn't white (white wine gives me all the symptoms of hyperglycemia. Red wine or rose doesn't. Don't ask me why, my doctor doesn't know), and he found us an extremely nice, and local, organic rose with a pleasingly crisp, honeyed palate.

I chatted inconsequentially for several mouthfuls, but I can read people well enough to know that I wasn't fooling anyone. He, being a gentleman, waited.

"... which nearly drove me mad, because it was pure, uncaring incompetence. Plain and simple. Which I had to clean up, instead of getting back to my clients, one of whom was approaching crisis. So, well, Catherine wants to teach me about myself by having a private party and inviting you."

He took the huge sideways shift in subject in his stride, swallowing his mouthful before replying. "I won't try and pretend I didn't get chapter and verse on Friday night from our beloved mutual friend," he said. "I take it that you're not sure if you want to speak to anyone ever again, or undress with the lights on."

"Fucking stop that!"

"Stop what?" he asked around his wine glass.

"Stop being so fucking insightful! How do you know that?"

"The same way Catherine guessed it before she rang me yesterday, I'm guessing," he continued, his attention on his foccacia for a moment, "Because we've been there, been through it, remember what it was like, and recognise it in others."

He took the sting out of revealing that they had been talking about me behind my back, and before I had unloaded on Catherine, by asking "Have you ever been given the 'We care about you, deal with it' speech?"

"Once or twice," I said cautiously, not sure whether I was going to be wary of him, and self-consciously not taking a drink in case it looked defensive.

He topped up my glass, which was only a third empty, before saying anything else. "Look, Catherine's a lot less scary than she seems. You already know that, but I'm guessing that you haven't met Mistress Catherine before. There's also a slave Catherine, who's much more fun in my opinion, but that's another story. If you let her look after you, she will. And I'd be honoured to help."

I took a very deliberate drink before replying, keeping my eyes firmly on his. "Okay. You ring Catherine and tell her to organise it for next Friday, and I'm sorry I'm pushing into their private time. But I won't be drinking. I don't care if I wasn't drunk for either party, I won't be drinking."

"Check."

"Good."

"You're welcome."

"Shut up."

He gave a semi-courtly hand-wave bow of his head in acknowledgement.

"What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?"

He pushed his plate away and leaned back to stretch, taking his glass with him. "I have nothing planned except inconsequentialities."

"Would you like to come back to my place?"

"I would be honoured."

"I'm on top."

"Whatever you say, mistress."

"Excuse me?"

"Whatever you say, Mistress."

"Good boy."

"Arf, arf."

"You'll pay for that, later."

#

My afternoon with Clay, which stretched over two hours while I played soft-core bondage Mistress and he good-humouredly played alone while I made him cum twice and got three out of him for myself, taught me a few things:

One, I was still quite happy in my sexuality, thank you, but didn't quite want to be on the bottom just yet. Two, having power is quite a delicious thrill. Three, curtain tassels make handy restraints. That was his suggestion, by the way.

It restored my faith in myself and put me in a good mood for the rest of the week, even for work.

Which made the looming inevitability of Friday night seem a little more bearable, until Friday afternoon came and I got home from work to be faced with a shower, which was good, and then getting dressed, which was difficult.

I found myself standing in front of my wardrobe, staring at everything and saying "I need a corset. I need a fucking corset, dammit!"

The thing was, I had an impulse to not get entirely undressed. Just to make a point, I'd keep my tits covered. Not because my nipples were still smarting from the snake-bite cups, but because I thought it would give me a sense of controlling the situation. A corset would be ideal. But I didn't have one. Nor did I have a leather bra. Without something good to wear, I couldn't see myself getting out of undressing. However...

With a little ingenuity, and a pair of scissors, I managed to get suspender fishnet stockings, that came halfway up my thighs, attached to crotchless panties under a leather mini-skirt I hadn't thought I would ever wear again. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to go commando for the cause.

My only pair of high boots weren't high enough, so I went with high heels instead.

A black bra went under my most goth shirt, and I made my make-up bold and in shades of black. 

Then I grabbed my car keys and belted out of the house, running late.

When I got there, Catherine opened the door almost before I had knocked, looked me up and down and said "Would you like to borrow a corset? I think you need to be wearing a corset."

She was wearing a latex nurse's uniform which did a good enough job of giving her cleavage without any boning at all.

"Do you know how much thought I had to put into this?" I demanded.

"Okay, I just thought..." 

"Show me the corset, bitch."

It was red, and boned, and gave me a cleavage I had never had, and I couldn't stop giggling at myself in the mirror.

"What panties have you got on?" Catherine demanded, hovering over my shoulder with a calculating look in her eye. 

"Well, actually," I started, arching my eyebrows, but didn't get any further before she nearly crushed me in a hug from behind.

"Excellent!" she crowed, then lunged across the room, rummaged in a drawer and came back. "Put those on and get rid of that skirt!"

I stared at them. They were leather, large enough to be boy-shorts, and had many studs, and a removable crotch area held on with studs, and lots of adjustable straps for my stockings to attach to.

Eventually, I found my voice. "Catherine, were you wearing these last week?"

"Yes I was, honey. They're my only pair that hold a dildo. I have other strap-ons, of course..."

I nearly went chill, remembering, then went hot instead, and started unzipping my skirt. "Could you give me a minute, darling? I'll join you with the rest."

She almost cackled with glee as she skipped out of the room.

When I had changed out of my modified panties into her leather boy-shorts, I left my skirt off and stood staring at myself in Catherine's full-length mirror. I looked fucking hot! More to the point, I looked powerful. Every stereotype of dominant bondage women I ever knew clicked into place. My boots weren't tall enough, but between the corset, the leather boy-shorts and suspender fishnets, I looked in charge and I felt confident. 

I still needed a deep breath and a bit of mental coaxing before I walked out the door and joined everyone else in the living room, however.

Catherine's dress just about revealed what panties she was, or more likely wasn't, wearing.

James was wearing skin-tight latex pants and a sleeveless shirt that would have made him look like a rent-boy if he wasn't so obviously in charge of his own personal space.

Suzanne was wearing a little frilly-edged black top like a fetish french maid, a skirt to match and white stockings. She seemed to be going for the school-girl fetish angle as well as the maid angle.

Clay was rather more conventionally but no less simply dressed, wearing a frilly white shirt and snug pants with a black-on-black pattern that was difficult to make out at first, and on closer (much closer) inspection turned out to be a diamond grid with a fleur-de-lis in the centre of each diamond. He also had a wide leather cuff on each wrist, and a studded leather collar without, I was slightly disappointed to see, a D-link for a leash on it. Oh, well, another time, maybe.

The final member of the party, to get the genders balanced, was, as Catherine had promised, a borrowed slave. He was wearing a leather G-string and a body harness which positioned big steel rings over his nipples, both of which were pierced. He was surprisingly young-looking and cute, and had a tentative, shy smile which spoke volumes about how unused he was to not be in a full-discipline environment. Somehow, that did a better job of making me feel confident than anything else so far.

They had, strategically, left me only one space to sit - on the couch, between Clay and James. Suzanne was sprawled on the floor in front of James, and the young slave was kneeling carefully by Catherine's armchair. She was toying proprietorially with his shoulder-length hair. The other two boys were sprawled into the nook between the couch back and the arm, so I was left the middle cushion, and leaned back feeling like a queen. I draped my arms over the back of the couch and crossed my legs.

Clay offered me a tall, thin glass. 

"Lemon, lime and bitters," he explained. "Non-alcoholic, as requested."

I raised my eyebrow and said "Well, boy?"

Grinning, he raised it to my lips for a long sip. 

"Hey, this is good. Who the hell mixed this?"

Catherine put her hand possessively on the head of the cute sub and stroked his hair slowly. "Michael here is a cocktail waiter," she said with a smirk in her voice. "He's good with his hands in other ways, too."

"Borrow him often, do you?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Every chance I get!" Catherine replied to general laughter. I even joined in myself.

As the rest of us laughed, Catherine pulled up the bottom of her latex dress (it only came to mid-thigh anyway) and said "In you get, boy!"

He swung his knees around to face her and leant forwards, his head disappearing from view and a satisfied sigh drifting out of Catherine's lips.

I managed to say "I thought you were talking about his hands, darling," with perfect voice control.

She waved a languid hand in my direction, head resting on the back of her chair. "Later, darling, later, I don't want to peak too early."

James leaned towards me and said, in a conspiratorial slave whisper, "She's actually lying. It doesn't matter how early she peaks, she can keep going for the rest of the night if she needs to."

"Just for that!" Catherine called out, "I'm going to! Boy, try harder!"

I was, almost literally, mesmerised as the slave's head, barely covered by the bottom of Catherine's dress, began to move around as he kept his hands perfectly still on the tops of his thighs.

Catherine's hips began to roll, slightly, and one hand crept up her body to her latex-squeezed breast as she began to breathe a little harder.

For almost five minutes there was complete silence apart from the faint wet sounds from under Catherine's skirt, and the slowly escalating moans from her mouth, only the underside of her throat visible as her head lay over the back of the chair.

I only vaguely recognised that I was tensing up as she got higher and higher, but I definitely recognised that it was making me horny. My breasts were beginning to ache inside the corset, and my body was twanging like a bowstring. I started off staring at her throat, but my gaze dropped and I couldn't get my eyes off the back of the slave's head as it moved around, the white latex of Catherine's dress stretched lewdly to accommodate him.

Catherine began to twitch, and her back slowly rose from the chair until she was supported on her neck and her feet, her legs visibly quivering until, with a sort of strangled moaning gasp, she went rigid, shook, and then collapsed back onto the chair as the slave straightened his back again, his face wearing the most self-satisfied submissive look I have ever seen.

I had the slightly mad thought that I had never seen Catherine cum before.

James started laughing, a happy, proud sound, and I suddenly realised that I had heard Clay give a pained sound and that it was probably because my hand was clamped onto his leg just above his knee. I forced my gaze away from the absurdly smirking Catherine and looked down at my hand. Yes, I'm not surprised that it may have hurt.

I peeled it off his leg and realised that the only way to come out of this with dignity and self-respect was to throw myself headlong into it and try not to fall over.

I patted his knee and said "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed, pointing at his knee. "You can kiss it better, too!"

It took me a heartbeat longer than ideal to come up with a retort, while Catherine asked "What? Did I miss something?"

"You," I said in response, "Can kiss my pussy and thank me for it!"

The bastard actually grinned at me before saying "Okay, then."

He slid off the couch and between my knees before my brain, which had geared up for an argument, realised that he had agreed.

It wasn't the conscious part of my brain that spread my knees for him, but I didn't argue the point. A small part of me screamed that this was ridiculous, I was about to expose myself again, how is that normal?? But I closed my eyes and thought "I don't care. I'm sexy, fuck it, and I am in control this time, and I will have this man between my legs and I will love it."




Sarah: Party Bondage Ch. 03



In the background, I heard Suzanne say "Hey, what about me?" and James replying "Get on the couch, then," but my attention was really on Clay's talented fingers undoing the studs holding the crotch of Catherine's shorts over my pussy.

I opened my eyes in time to see him, grinning slyly, drop his head towards my freshly shaved lips, and when he started licking me, everyone else in the room stopped being important.

He took his time, nuzzling and stroking and working me up slowly. Pressure grew inside me so deliciously that everything became happy and I didn't even demand, or try and jam my hips up against him when the pressure became excruciating which, oh god, it did.

I was too busy with what Clay was doing to me to really pay attention, but I'm pretty sure that that slut Suzanne came twice before I arched up off the couch, gasped, and then went "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhgggghhhhhhhhh" for what seemed like two minutes before I collapsed back down again.

Clay had a look on his face like the cat that swallowed the cream, by the time my eyes focused again, and then Catherine's hands slid over my shoulders halfway down to my breasts, and her voice purred in my ear "It's nice when they do what they're told, isn't it?"

I couldn't help laughing. "Fuck, yeah!"

"It's even nicer when they keep doing it," she said as her hands slid a little lower and tickled the tops of my breasts.

The afterglow of cumming was so nice that I didn't even mind that intimacy, or the way her hands kept sliding down to press over my breasts.

In fact, it felt damn nice.

I rolled my head sideways to see how Suzanne had been getting on, and the little slut had managed to strip everything except her skirt, which was hiked up around her waist like a belt, and had her tits out and her nipples pointing about two feet in front of them. Her face was flushed scarlet and she was grinning insanely.

"Hello girlfriend," she said in what was probably an impish voice.

"You," I said, pointing at her with a slightly shaky hand, "Are enjoying yourself far too much!"

Her eyes grew wide. "Can you do that?" she asked.

I looked at James, who was grinning happily with her cum on his lips. "You," I said, "Need to shut her up."

James, who was quick on the uptake, said "Yes, Mistress!" and stood up, undoing his skin-tight pants with a speed that spoke of unbelievable amounts of practice.

Suzanne, who was a little slower on the uptake, but possibly because her head was still fuzzy, had enough time to look puzzled and say "What?" before James stepped up onto the couch, grabbed her head and force-fed her his cock. She was surprised enough to emit a sort of choked glubbing sound before practice kicked in and she started sucking happily. James held her hair firmly and took complete control of movement, fucking her throat in a way that I would have described as abusive if I didn't know the people involved.

On impulse, I reached sideways and gave her nipple a sharp tweak, saying "You should enjoy that, dear slut."

From the way she reacted, she certainly enjoyed the tweak. Which gave me an idea. "Hey, Catherine," I began, "What sort of nipple clamps do you have lying around?" 

Suzanne made a sort of whimpering, pleading sound through the wetness of James fucking her mouth, and I swear it was only three seconds before Catherine's hand appeared in front of my face, holding a jumble of chrome. I held my hand up, and she poured a chain and two solid clamps into it.

"I recommend these," she said in a professional tone. "Not weighted, but the narrow contact points provide just the right amount of added pain to your sub's nipples, the spring is quite powerful, and the chain means that you won't lose one if it falls off, and you can pull on both at once. A discerning choice for hard play."

I giggled, I couldn't help myself, as Suzanne's eyes rolled crazily and she tried to make begging sounds but her body squirmed in a way that was more towards than away from me. I held up the clamps, one in each hand, and examined them carefully. I almost cringed away from them, they looked so cruel.

I twisted on the couch, and had to reach around between James' legs to get Suzanne's breasts. "Take the base of the nipple," Catherine advised. "You want to squeeze a little of the aureole."

When I closed the first clamp gently over Suzanne's left nipple, she almost spasmed and made a sort of wailing sound. Whatever else she did made James stiffen and gasp "Oh fuck, yeah!"

I had to grin as I carefully positioned and closed the other one, with the same result. Then I had a proper look at the two of them.

James had pinned Suzanne's arms against the back of the couch, and her hands were writhing in a futile attempt to get at her pussy. I had a sudden and undeniable urge and said "Catherine! Hand me a dildo, please!"

Suzanne began squirming more urgently, blinded by James' belly but fully able to guess what I was planning, as Catherine passed me a long, dark blue dildo with, at the base, what appeared at first to be a handle. "Keep that for your harness," Catherine said casually. "Clench with your PC muscles and it feels great driving into someone."

I laughed, I had to, and then I jammed the dildo end into Suzanne. Her angle on the couch meant that I could just about get the right angle for entry, and she was so wet that I didn't even feel resistance from her muscles. In fact, I think she might have sucked it in as she squealed, wetly, and bucked up against it.

I was about to start fucking her, but then had the giddy thought, Why not? and lifted myself up on my knees, stabbed myself on the bulb and began fucking her like a man.

Catherine was right - even without settling it inside the harness shorts I was wearing, clenching around it and using my own cunt to drive the dildo into Suzanne's felt fucking fantastic.

It felt even better as Suzanne began to buck back against me, and every movement she made, I felt, as the bulb jerked and twisted inside me.

James began to grunt heavily, with the ragged only-just-holding-on male sound that I find uncontrollably sexy. "Cum in her mouth," I gasped out as I pounded away at Suzanne. "I want to kiss her and taste you."

I don't know where that came from. Never in my life had I thought that I would ever admit to that. But I did want to, and about five seconds later he jerked, went rigid and the sounds from Suzanne went from only slightly wet to drowning as he pumped into her. He pulled out and sort of fell sideways, managing not to kick me on the way past, leaving Suzanne with her mouth wide open and her eyes glazed as she slammed back at me, frothy white cum glazing her lips and dribbling down one cheek.

I leaned forwards, grabbed her behind her neck and pulled her up towards me, opening my mouth wide and sealing lip to lip. It didn't even occur to me that I had never, deliberately, kissed a girl in a sexual way before. Lipstick lesbian play in bars didn't count - not compared to using my tongue to take a great swipe of a man's cum from another girl's mouth, and savour the taste.

Suzanne couldn't gasp or moan with her mouth full of cum, but she tried to whine as she jerked back against my thrusts, and I can only imagine what it felt to have the clamps on her nipples jammed into my corset.

I felt her on the ragged edge of cumming herself, and pulled off her mouth, my lips and tongue sticky with James' cum, to say "Cum, bitch!" I don't know if she was used to triggers, or my timing was really good, but she convulsed and screamed, gargling cum and even splashing some onto my face.

Hell, I didn't mind - I was enjoying it far too much. When she stopped shaking and her head collapsed forwards, landing on my corset-lifted breasts, I grabbed the back of her head, lifted and said "Lick my face clean, slut."

I felt drunk with power and horniness. Not lust, but horniness. I didn't need sex, I just needed to make it happen.

Suzanne's eyes were closed and she was moving a little mechanically, probably still brain-jangled, as she licked my face clean. When she was finished, she tried to nuzzle against my neck, but I pulled back, pulled out of her and stood up, holding the dildo against her lips. "Now clean this off," I said.

Her eyes were still half-closed but her lips spread in a happy grin before opening wide, and she reached up to grab the shaft and guide it into her mouth. She took it all the way, leaving it coated with a thin sheen of sweat, not her copious juices.

I bent down to kiss her again, tasting her this time, and for the first time in my life, the thought of tasting another woman appealed to me. 

Yes, I thought as I straightened up, I could definitely get used to this. 

I looked around as I let Suzanne's head drop back. James was completely naked, and Catherine was straddling him right next to us on the couch, but they were looking at us instead of kissing, and were both grinning hugely. 

"That," Catherine said, "Was a fucking amazing show. Welcome to Domme-hood, darling."

Clay was lounging on the floor, propped up on one elbow, and had a bulge in his tight pants so huge that it was a miracle something hadn't burst. I pointed one finger at him, said "Strip," in a voice which was getting a little raw with need. The bulb of the dildo wasn't enough any more - I needed the real thing. The corset squeezing my breasts was beginning to feel like a vise, and it was driving me wild.

I tore my gaze off Clay as he peeled off his clothes, not trusting my own behaviour if I watched it all, and my eyes fell on the slave, who had an almost heart-breaking look of why-aren't-they-doing-this-to-me on his face.

As Clay tossed his pants and underpants to one side, I swallowed hard and forced myself to share. Besides, I was feeling in need of experimentation, not something I had already tasted.

I pointed a shaking finger at the slave. "Get that G-string off, boy, and lie on your back."

He complied so fast that there was almost a popping sound as he moved from sitting to lying, and Catherine helpfully pounced on him and peeled a condom onto his already rigid cock, settling it with her fingers and then rolling it on with her mouth, like the experienced pervert she was.

This also meant that it was nicely lubricated with her saliva - not that I really needed it by this point. I was running down my thigh.

But it did make me jealous, and I moved off the couch before Catherine started enjoying herself too much.

"Catherine," I said. "Why not sit on his face?"

She graciously gave up his cock and slid sideways, swinging her leg over his head and sitting down facing me, tilting her hips forward to press her lips against his. This meant that when I slid over the slave's hips and lowered myself onto his shaft, wriggling until I had settled down onto his hips, his tip pressing exquisitely up against the entrance to my womb, her mouth was near mine.

She licked her lips invitingly, but I didn't need any invitation by that point. As my entire body felt electrically alive and aroused by the nicely thick cock inside me, I leaned forwards, grabbed her by the back of the head, and pressed my mouth hard against hers.

She slid her tongue around the inside of my lips, and over my teeth, and tried to lick the insides of my cheeks, purring in appreciation as she tasted the remains of her man's cum that still lingered in my mouth.

I raised my other hand and grabbed the neck(?)line of her nurse's uniform, yanking the latex down until her breast popped out, then worked my hand sideways until both were free. I grabbed one breast around the nipple, squeezed, twisted and pulled. There was a lingering surreal, queasy feeling to be playing with another woman's breast, but I was so horny that it merely felt deliciously kinky, and when Catherine yelped into my mouth and jerked back, then pushed her breast forward into my hand, I involuntarily clenched around the sub's cock, making him jerk underneath me.

I pulled back, still holding the back of her head, to see her panting, cheeks flushed, eyes slightly glazed and unconsciously moving slightly over the slave's mouth.

I glanced around. James was sprawled on the couch, slowly stroking himself back to hardness. Suzanne was still holding the dildo, but was staring at the three of us like the last puppy in the shop, and Clay - oh, fuck me - Clay was naked and I felt like eating him. Literally - just biting chunks of his flesh, it had to taste so good.

I had to close my eyes for a second, to concentrate.

When I opened them, Catherine took one look at the expression in them and looked slightly startled.

"Suzanne," I said, very deliberately, "Get on your hands and knees, now."

She dropped the dildo as if stung, lunging off the couch, moving so much by reflex that her eyes betrayed a split-second of shock before the slut took over again.

She ended up beside us.

Clay and James didn't even need prompting. Clay dropped onto his knees next to me, James next to Catherine. Suzanne vacuumed James' cock into her mouth so fast he gasped and nearly doubled over. Clay took his time, toying with her pussy with his fingers, already wearing a condom, and then, as she was trying to buck back against him like a needy little whore, he slid smoothly and quickly into her ass, making her scream against James' cock and nearly making him cum there and then.

I found myself squirming on top of the slave, and turned back to Catherine, only to see her with eyes squeezed shut, an endless stream of moans dribbling out of her mouth, nearly followed by drool, as her hips twitched spastically on the slave's mouth. I squeezed my cunt hard around his cock, raking my fingernails over his belly as reward for how well he was doing, then grabbed both her nipples between thumb and forefinger of each hand and yanked, hard. 

She fell forward into me, eyes flying open as she gave a shriek that was more surprised than painful, and as her lips slammed into mine she came, hard, screaming into my mouth, wailing and sobbing as she nearly drowned the poor slave.

I held onto her nipples until she stopped jerking, then let go, stroking them gently as I continued to kiss her.

She leaned into me bonelessly and sort of giggled, sort of laughed against my lips. I rolled my eyes sideways to see Clay fucking Suzanne's ass hard, every movement making her writhe on his cock, as he worked - I could barely believe my eyes - his entire hand inside her pussy. James had her head between his hands, holding it rigidly still as he dictated how he fucked her throat, the smile twisting the corners of her mouth telling just how much she was enjoying this as he used her mouth for the second time that night.

I pushed Catherine away with one hand against her sternum. She looked at me with the cross-eyed, unfocused gaze of a woman who has just cum hard, and giggled again.

I leaned backwards on my hands, bending the slave's cock back until the top of my cunt was exposed, and said "Bend down and start licking, bitch."

Catherine is never going to use half measures. She practically assaulted my clit, she attacked it so fast. I don't even know if the slave did cum, and I didn't even care. But oh my fucking god, I did!



Sarah: Party Bondage Ch. 04



Author's note:

This story took on a life of it's own. It began life with a set plan, but what can you do? When I realised that the tone needed to change, I saw a diversion and ran with it. There is therefore guaranteed to be a chapter 5 :)

Please read the previous chapters if you haven't already, so that you know what's going on.

==================

Chapter 4: Intermission

I stayed that night, sleeping curled around Clay in a guest bed. When I awoke before he did, I teased him erect with the most delicate touches I could, then carefully rolled a condom on and slid down around him as he began to turn and mutter in his sleep, clenching him hard as he woke with a surprised exclamation, sealing his mouth with mine as he leapt to the right conclusion and began to enthusiastically respond.

When I had ridden him to mutual orgasm and then kissed him good morning properly, I went to make us coffee, staying defiantly naked but not running into anyone else.

We had just about finished that pot before Catherine, hearing our voices, gave a polite knock about a third of a second before pushing the door open.

I was sitting up in bed with the sheet covering me no higher than my waist, and I didn't bother to try and cover up.

She sauntered in, wearing a robe tied so loosely that she was almost revealing more than me, dropped onto the bed next to Clay and patted his leg, right up near his groin. I was slightly surprised to realise that I wasn't in the slightest bit jealous.

"Sleep well?" she asked us both, turned side-on so that I was pretty sure I could see a shadow of nipple inside her robe.

"We did, yes," Clay replied, reaching out with one finger to pull her robe open slightly more for a better look.

She raised her eyebrow at him and said "If I'm not very much mistaken, you've already had quite enough of that this morning." She didn't make any move to stop him, however, and he didn't stop looking. "How do you want your - and don't even think of saying it - eggs?"

"Runny and on toast," I said with the straightest face I could muster. They keep chooks, and I wasn't prepared to jeopardise my chances at anything that Catherine made with their eggs.

"Good, I was planning on doing poached. More coffee?"

She didn't bother waiting on an answer - from either of us - but simply grabbed the pot and headed for the door, saying over her shoulder "James has to run Suzanne to the airport in an hour, so breakfast will be ASAP."

We borrowed towels and showered together, and made the kitchen in time to get breakfast while it was being served.

Suzanne waved cheerily at us with a mouthful of toast, dressed in her travelling clothes - slightly warm for even mid-morning, but ready for the cold back home.

James, already dressed for the drive to the airport, waggled a knife in greeting as he industriously buttered toast, and Catherine was swaying around the kitchen in the same gown, looking like a porn actress waiting for her call.

In last night's clothes, I felt distinctly over-dressed, and attempted to divert this feeling by focusing on someone else.

"Not leaving the house today, darling?" I asked Catherine as she paused in her voyage around the kitchen to reach over my shoulder and put one hand down my blouse and coffee into my cup.

"Not if I can help it!" she replied as she drew her palm over my nipple and moved onto Clay, who craned his neck to peer inside her robe, an expression of mildly distracted interest on his face, as she filled his cup.

I sat there as a plate of perfectly poached eggs on toast appeared in front of me, drinking strong plunger coffee, feeling surrounded by domesticity disrupted only by Catherine oozing predatory sexuality, and could not believe how far I had come - from blushing furiously at the very mention of a swinger party, to, well... I looked at Suzanne, busily using a scrap of toast to mop up the last of her egg, and toyed with the idea of throwing her on the table and straddling her mouth.

I felt a warm, sexy, alive rush at the thought and had to return my attention to my coffee again, feeling like the cat that had discovered how to open the fridge and pour its own cream.

"Penny for your thoughts," Clay said and I looked up, startled, to find everybody grinning at me.

With a flush of embarrassment, I suddenly remembered that they had all gathered for my benefit, and that the spotlight was firmly on me.

I opened my mouth, then shut it again. There was no way I was going to admit to what my thoughts had actually been, but I couldn't immediately think of anything to replace them with.

I opened my mouth again, shut it again, blushed suddenly, giggled self-consciously and blurted out "Fuck, I love you guys!"

James just grinned wider at me, Suzanne cheered and Catherine applauded.

All of which just made me blush harder, of course.

Clay and I were finishing breakfast when Suzanne rushed off to the bathroom to clean her teeth, and James portaged her luggage out to their old Peugeot.

I was draining my fourth cup of coffee when she returned. We exchanged email addresses and promised to keep in touch, she gave us each a throat-clearing kiss, and then was gone.

We stood in the driveway to wave them off, Catherine with the wind tugging at her gown in perfect fashion to scandalise the neighbours, and she said "I hope she doesn't take too much out of him when she goes down on him in the car-park. I'm going to be horny when he gets back."

It took me a few seconds to process that, but Clay simply made a show of staring at the watch he didn't have on and saying "I may be able to help, there, I'm not due back home until tomorrow night."

Catherine turned around, pressed him against the door, and slid her tongue down her throat until she could tongue his balls. I pressed myself against her from behind, and pulled her gown apart. Neighbours be damned.

She pulled back from Clay, twisted her head back around over her shoulder, and said "Honey, are up to being a toy?"

My face must have mirrored what that question did to me, because they both started grinning at me.

Catherine slipped out from between us, breasts hanging out of her robe, and moved around behind me as Clay casually pushed himself upright. I felt like I was being circled by sharks.

With one hand each on my back, they lead me, compliant, towards the master bedroom.

I had never actually been in Catherine's bedroom before. That fact dwelt in my mind as they lead me though the door. I'm not sure why. 

They put me in the middle of the floor, in front of the bed, and ordered me not to move. Catherine, the edges of her robe caught on her nipples, stood in front of me and slowly untied the sash, letting it fall open and leave her fully nude as she looked me up and down with a calculating air that made me simultaneously shiver with trepidation and go weak at the knees with expectation.

Clay reached around me from behind and started unbuttoning my shirt. I had the sudden, mad thought that at least my agonising over dressing last night wasn't going to be wasted.

He tugged the shirt off my shoulders, quickly dealt off my bra and left me naked from the waist up, still standing meekly and almost hypnotised in front of Catherine's completely dominant eyes.

I almost didn't notice my leather skirt being unzipped and slipped down to my feet, as Catherine dropped her robe and, entirely naked, closed the distance between us with a single step, grabbed my breasts in her hands and began kissing me so assertively that I was powerless to do anything except stand there and whimper into her mouth as she kneaded my breasts like bread dough.

I dimly heard Clay say "I think we should leave the stockings," and Catherine stepped back, releasing my breasts, which felt a rush of blood which nearly made me stagger.

She took in the stockings attached to the panties I had converted into crotchless, and said. "I agree. Get rid of that skirt, slut!"

The totally dominant, dismissive way in which she said that, one of my most hated words, made me moan and bite my lip as my pussy spasmed and began to leak down my inside thigh.

What, I wondered dazedly as I stepped out of my skirt, is happening this time?

As I straightened up, Catherine reached forward and grabbed my crotch in her hand. I gasped and nearly collapsed, only held up by grabbing her shoulders with both hands.

Suddenly Clay took hold of my wrists, pulled them behind me and, quickly and efficiently, tied them with what felt like twenty turns of rope. 

Standing on high heels, my arms held behind me, I could barely stand as Catherine felt me like a piece of meat, smoothly slipped two fingers inside me, and said "Excellent! Our little girl is growing up into a beautifully wet little slut!"

She began walking backwards towards the bed, pulling me after her with the two fingers deep inside me. I stumbled after her, nearly falling. 

When she hit the edge of the bed, she pulled her fingers out of me and lay back, sucking them while she spread her own lips with her other hand.

I thought I knew what was expected of me, but when I began to bend down, Clay slapped me on the arse with something large and flat, and said "From the hips. Keep you legs straight."

I gasped at the slap, as gentle as it was, and my legs shot straight. I began to bend down again, and he slapped me again. "Keep your back straight, as well."

I pivoted at the hips, keeping my back and legs rigidly straight, very nearly over-balancing. Only my heels let me do it. Then, as I was terrified of actually falling, Catherine reached out, grabbed me by the hair, and pulled down.

With a shriek, I fell the rest of the way, landing with unexpectedly delicious pain on my breasts, my face nearly in Catherine's intoxicatingly musky pussy. I didn't even think to notice that the bed was just the right height for this.

Clay slapped me again. "Legs straight!" He demanded.

My legs straightened compulsively, feeling a small burn as my thighs stretched.

He slapped me again "Back straight!" Then again, "Arse out! I want to see you pussy between your legs."

I closed my eyes and moaned, wetter just from what he said, when Catherine grabbed my hair and said "Start licking, bitch."

I buried my head in her pussy, and the first taste nearly made me drunk. Then the first spank in earnest began and I jumped, squealing into Catherine, but nothing short of force was going to make me stop now.

Clay struck me again, and again, and every jolt made me jerk forwards as I tongued Catherine's clit as well as I could. Suddenly she grabbed my head as she came, gasped out "Stop!" and lifted my head by the hair, painfully bending my neck upwards.

"How many strikes was that?" she demanded.

My head spun. They were expecting me to count? "I don't know!" I managed to gasp out.

Catherine yanked my hair. "I don't know, Mistress!" I could hear the capital.

"I don't know, Mistress!" I gasped, desperately.

"Then we'll begin again," she said, and dropped my head back into her pussy.

I set to eagerly, but this time Clay altered the angle of his strikes and, as well as my arse, he was touching the edges of my swollen pussy lips as well.

I squealed again, and this time fire jolted right through me with every impact, but I kept tonguing. I came violently, twisting under the blows but my mouth not moving from Catherine's soaked pussy. She grabbed my head twice more and I came again before she gasped out " Stop!" again, and lifted my head up.

"How many?" she demanded, face flushed.

Oh, shit. I thought it was about 23, but I knew I had lost count, so I said "Twenty five, Mistress?"

"Wrong," Clay said calmly from behind me.

"Then we start again." I was nearly crying when she dropped my head back into her pussy again, but like an automaton I went right back to licking it.

I didn't count how many times she grabbed my head, and I'm not even sure how many times I squealed and bucked as the impacts on my exposed pussy lips made me cum.

The next time Catherine yanked my head up, I gasped out "Thirty, Mistress?" and Clay said "Correct."

I really did sob with relief when Catherine said "Then we can stop now."

She pulled me up the bed towards her, and my legs literally failed me. I collapsed before getting my knees onto the bed, and I felt Clay lift and slide me until I was lying fully on top of Catherine, our mounds pressing together.

Her tongue invaded my mouth, and all I could really do was lie there and whimper as she kissed me hungrily and her hands roamed all over my body.

Suddenly Clay, very naked, was next to us and Catherine was taking his cock right into her throat.

I had barely recovered breath when he slid out of her mouth and into mine. I certainly couldn't do anything except lie with an open throat as he fucked it. Catherine, underneath me, managed to get his balls into her mouth and made growling noises deep in her throat as she sucked them.

I was feeling a little delirious when he pulled out, soaking wet with my saliva, and rolled me off Catherine to lie beside her, tied hands still trapped beneath me. I lay there, trying to recover, as he straddled Catherine, pushed her heavy breasts together, and began fucking them.

She sighed happily, pressing her flesh more tightly around his shaft, while the world slowly stopped spinning about my head. I was just beginning to feel left-out when he stiffened, grunted, and shot a thick, white, milky stream onto the underside of Catherine's chin as she lay with her head back and her eyes tightly closed.

He fell sideways off her when he had finished spurting, and just looked at me.

Unsteadily and awkwardly, I scrambled astride Catherine, my knees on either side of her ribcage, and, breasts to breasts, began to clean her with my tongue. I dimly heard the sound of a condom packet opening, before I felt Clay grasp my hips and then slide inside me.

I cried out, so sensitive that the sensation was exquisitely painful, and attacked his cum on Catherine's neck as he set up a steady, driving rhythm inside me.

I came twice, crying out each time, before I felt him spasm and slam hard into me a final time, holding there and twitching as I came again, weakly.

The only thing on Catherine's neck was my saliva and I collapsed against her, gasping weakly as I felt Clay withdraw and then tenderly unwrap my wrists.

My arms flopped bonelessly to my sides and Clay had to help me roll off Catherine and sprawl next to her.

My shoulders hurt, my arse was throbbing and my pussy was once more aching.

"Fuck," I said. Then I giggled, and repeated "Fuck!"

Catherine rolled over, kissed me tenderly, smacked her lips, said "Shower," and rolled gracefully off the bed to head in that direction.

Clay languidly got dressed, lay my clothes neatly next to me, and said "More coffee?"

"More coffee," I repeated. "Please, you god amongst men."

He sketched a bow and departed as, my eloquence deserting me, I softly repeated "Fucking hell!" 



Sarah: Party Bondage Ch. 05



Author's note: 

This is the final instalment in this series. In here, I say the last thing that I feel like saying. I hope you've enjoyed it!

==========================

Party Bondage 5: Sarah goes hardcore.

When I got home on Saturday, after James got back from the airport, because it took me that long to be in a fit state to drive, I went straight back to bed. In my clothes.

I lay in the dark for half an hour before deciding that what I actually wanted was a bath.

Various bits of abused flesh cried out in relief as I stumbled towards the bathroom and spun the taps, and water restrictions be damned. I also added considerable amounts of bubble bath.

It was, I decided, not too early for the glass of wine that I had denied myself the night before.

The fridge yielded up a bottle of merlot, which I took with me back to the bathroom, along with one of my biggest glasses.

I took a large swallow before I stripped off my clothes, left them on the floor and slid with a grateful and happy sigh beneath the foam.

I had treated myself to a neck rest/support that let me fall asleep safely if I wanted to, so I could lie back and relax properly, relying upon kinaesthetic senses to drink without spilling all over myself, although refilling the glass was going to be a bitch.

I had a lot of tension and aches to soak away, and I intended to stay for a long time, so all of this was important.

My arse still ached, my pussy was throbbing in the bad way, my poor pussy lips felt slightly bruised, my shoulders were slightly sore, and the rest of me was just aching a bit.

The odd part was that I wasn't beating myself up this time. Catherine's "private party" really must have worked.

I couldn't really believe what was happening while it was happening, that morning, but all I was thinking now was "Okay... That was kind of cool!"

Now where the fuck did that thought come from?

I took a long swallow of red, and resolutely refused to care about it.

#

Catherine turned up at her usual time for our weekly coffee.

She had a sly look on her face when I opened the door, but she took one look at my serene expression and mentally closed her mouth before she had opened it.

I gave her a tender smile and said "Oh, come on, spit it out."

She put on a little-girl-reciting-at-the-school-assembly face, and said "James is jealous, and demands to have a go himself."

"I'm free Wednesday," I replied, but didn't quite carry it.

"Ha!" she said, pointing a finger at me as her face flashed into a look of triumph. "I knew I could still get you!"

"Do you want coffee, or don't you?"

She was still smirking slightly as I turned the rattling old Gaggia off and sat down opposite her.

"So," she began. "Any regrets?"

"Strangely: Fuck, no."

"Do you see what I meant about being confident enough to choose, and being happy to switch roles when you feel like it?"

"I do now, yes."

She got up and came around the table to give me a smothering hug before she continued.

"And will you do that again?"

"Which bit?" I asked, a little disingenuously.

"Any of it!"

"Yes," I said firmly, then held up a cautionary finger, "But I can't guarantee what I will feel like, when."

"Of course not, darling. So long as you're happy about everything you've taken part in so far, and don't regret any of it."

"Well," I continued slowly, "I'm not sure about being everybody's toy again, quite yet. I'll probably keep that for small, intimate gatherings."

"That's fair enough. So are you still free Wednesday?"

As it turned out, I was. They put my breasts in a rope harness that surely shouldn't have felt that good, tied me stretched in an X-shape to their bed, then Catherine went down on me while James fucked my throat and bounced his balls off my nose.

When they were tired of making me cum like that, Catherine switched to 69 on me while James fucked her and I licked from her clit to his cock in one stroke.

I began to think that I could get into nipple clamps, after all.

In the rest of the week, I went shopping.

I found the red and black, lace-up corset I was looking for in a sex shop, of course. I added proper suspender stockings.

I would have also looked for boots, but the budget was running tight by that time.

I fully intended to put in an appearance at next Friday's party, and meant it to be good, although I still had no idea what I would be doing.

That was, of course, half the fun.

When Catherine opened the door to me on Friday night, her eyes nearly came out and hit my cleavage. 

"Fucking hell, girl!" she exclaimed, "does your mother know what you're wearing?"

This time, I hadn't felt the need to wear a jacket to cover up my own self-consciousness.

"Of course not," I replied with the straightest face I could. "I didn't want to give her a heart-attack."

The corset lifted my boobs up under my chin, and squeezed them so much that there was no longer any softness involved. It also came only barely above my nipples, and even lower on my back. My tallest boots came almost to my knees, and my stockings finished below my skirt, which was a frilly, dancer's number that didn't really hide the fact that I was wearing disappointingly modest black panties - a purely practical decision.

"You look hot enough to fuck seventeen ways to sunrise," Catherine said, as much enviously as admiringly. "You won't be able to beat them off with a giant dildo!"

"I sincerely hope not!" I managed to gasp out from the middle of a bone-crushing hug.

She let me go and ushered me in, giving me a hard slap on my barely covered arse on the way past.

I walked down the hall to the kitchen with an exaggerated swing to my hips, for her benefit.

In the kitchen, I was surprised to find only one other guest, a woman in scraps of leather who was rummaging in the fridge as I entered.

"Where is everybody?" I asked her extremely toned and extremely exposed arse.

She turned around, holding three beers in each hand, and said "I scared them off."

I suddenly realised that I was talking to the lesbian Mistress from the garage, and nearly stepped back myself before the new me said Hang on, this could be fun.

Before I could respond, she took a look at me, with a calculating, lustful, entirely hungry manner which went straight to my groin, grabbed it and made me its bitch. I wasn't sure whether I felt helpless with submission or just basic lust. How the fuck did she do that?

"I know you," she said. "You came to visit with Catherine, and then went and spread your legs for everyone without inviting us."

"It wasn't really planned ahead of time," I managed, which only elicited a sly grin from her.

"Well, I'll forgive you," she said. "You look like you've grown up a lot. That offer of being strapped to a cross with a vibrator inside you is still open, by the way." Without warning, she dropped one hand and pressed an ice-cold beer hard against the front of my panties, making me jump, squeal and go shaky at the knees, all at once.

"Just grab a drink and follow me. Or, just follow me. I won't make you crawl on hands and knees tonight. Beginner's rules."

She walked out, without looking back. I knew because I couldn't stop staring at her, twisting around until my knees ached and she had disappeared from view. I looked down, to see a wet spot from condensation on the front of my panties, and my pussy lips making a bigger dent behind it than they had before.

Well, that was novel.

I grabbed a beer, twisted the top off, drank half and then stood in front of the closed fridge door, mind nearly blank. An image of the cross kept flashing back into my mind.

Fuck it.

I grabbed a second beer, pivoted on one heel, and walked out. A couple in normal clothes was strolling from the direction of the lounge, and they both pulled up short, mouths open, when they saw me.

"Hot damn!" he said, but I walked straight past without acknowledging them, followed the house to the back yard, turned left and walked into the garage, with one bottle now empty and the other one open, the top knocked off against the garage door jam. 

The Mistress, Kate I remembered her name was, turned around from talking to the other two dominants. The three slaves were kneeling at their feet, even Kate's pony-girl.

She raised her beer, more to point at me than in salute, and said "Look! I found us a new toy!" 

That pulled me up short, and at a loss for words, suddenly wondering if I really had made the right choice, after all.

The other two dominants had given me a predatory once-over, also recognising me, before I knew quite what to say. 

"Is that true?" The man asked, with a slow drawl. "Are you offering yourself as a toy?"

"Um, yes," I replied, a little lamely.

Kate shushed the other two, and walked back towards me, stopping nearly close enough for our breasts to be touching.

"What's your name, slut?" she asked.

I wasn't sure quite if I was up to what was about to happen, but her manner was making me feel hot and meek all at once, and when I replied "Sarah," my voice sounded submissive even to me. 

"Sarah here," she said, without taking her eyes off mine, although I was staring meekly at her impressive cleavage, "is new. So we're going to play nice."

Suddenly, she jammed her still ice-cold beer bottle against my crotch again, this time pushing it hard into my pussy, making me cry out and then bite my lips, but, with a struggle, not move away from the pain of the cold.

"If she comes back," Kate continued, looking at me intently as I tried not to squirm, and began to whimper a little, "we can train her."

She pulled away her bottle, and took a long drink from it, still without taking her eyes off mine. I was breathing faster, and my breasts felt flushed.

"Hold this," Kate said, and without warning thrust her bottle between my breasts, twisting it, the condensation on the surface letting it slide in where I thought the pressure of my corset was going to prevent anything except air from going, and letting it rest securely, as I whimpered from the cold. 

She took the empty bottle I was holding, reached down, and, to my shock, yanked down my panties from under my skirt, brusquely rubbing me to check that I was already damp, and then sliding the bottle inside me, twisting it and working it in as the neck slowly got wider and I was sobbing from the cold but whimpering from the pressure, until the neck of the bottle finished and the much wider body began. 

"Now," she said, leaning forward to whisper into my ear. "Can I keep pushing? Can I push this in far enough it isn't going to come out?"

That was enough to drive all thoughts of the cold from my head. My mind flashed on the size of the beer bottle, mentally compared it to the dildo that Catherine had fucked me with, and my legs nearly gave way. 

"Yes, Mistress," I whimpered, suddenly, absolutely, wantonly, desperate for her to keep pushing. 

She flashed me a shark-like grin, then pushed, hard, and with a pop it was inside me and I screamed, collapsing forwards, held up only as she caught me with surprising ease, one arm around my back, the other still attached to the bottle, which she worked around until she was satisfied, leaving only an inch protruding from my gaping cunt.

"Stand up," she commanded, and I managed it with a burst of effort which left me tottering on the edge of collapse.

She pulled her beer out of my cleavage with a pop and a tearing at the skin of my breasts, and took a swallow.

"Right," she said. "what's your safeword?"

"Badger," I gasped out instantly, which brought a knowing smile to her lips. 

She abruptly took the bottle I was still holding, taking a swig from that, as well.

"Take your corset off."

I did so, with shaking hands, standing becoming a little easier, and the bottle no longer feeling quite so cold, even with the shocking numbness it was causing in my cunt.

There was a red mark on each breast where her bottle had rested, and, holding both beer bottles in one hand, she reached out to rub her fingers roughly over each mark, then the rest of my breasts, then finished by roughly grabbing and yanking each nipple, making me squeal the first time and nearly scream the second time. 

"Those'll take clamps well," she said. "Nice and big and fleshy. Take your skirt off."

That didn't take long, with just a tiny zip at the back and not enough fabric to get in the way, but I had to push it past my thighs, and that meant bending down, and that meant squeezing the bottle inside me, and that made me whimper and nearly fall over.

"Panties." 

I closed my eyes as I started pushing them down off my hips, knowing that I may not be able to cope, nearly collapsing as an automatic wriggle as the panties reached mid-thigh nearly made me cum. It was a torment getting them past my boots and off, and it was only an effort of will that allowed me to stand up again.

I was vaguely aware that the other two dominants in the room were relishing the show Kate was making me put on, and that the kneeling girl was carefully undoing her Master's pants with her teeth.

"This way," Kate said as she grabbed me by one nipple, carefully missing the slightly tougher aureole and grabbing only the nipple itself, and pulled harshly as she walked towards the cross. 

I shrieked and lurched after her, desperately trying to avoid any more pain but barely able to keep up. 

When we got to the cross, she roughly spun me around by my nipple, slamming me back against the wood and leaving me with head spinning, breast throbbing with pain and cunt not far behind.

"Arms up," she said as she placed both beer bottles on a shelf on the wall. I complied as quickly as I could, my mind gone past fear of what she might do into complete subjugation to it. 

She attached fleece-lined metal cuffs to my wrists, tightening them until they almost impaired circulation. 

"Legs."

By hanging onto the cuffs, I was able to fairly quickly spread my legs as far as the cross demanded, easing the pressure in my cunt a little.

She cuffed my ankles as well, then stepped back and gave a satisfied nod.

She picked up both beer bottles, took a swig from each, and then held them against my nipples.

Trapped by the cross and the cuffs, I still tried to twist away, whimpering weakly, as she held the bottles still against my breasts for what seemed like an eternity of heartbeats before removing them and giving a satisfied smile at the throbbingly erect state of my nipples.

She put the bottles down again and picked up two glittering metal devices, holding them up for my inspection. 

"Clover clamps," she said. I recognised the clamps which had stretched Suzanne's nipples skywards as she lay next to me getting fucked at both ends.

She attached one to each nipple, each one making me gasp again as the jaws closed firmly over my puffy flesh. 

"I told you before that I'd love to attach these to your delicious nipples. I generally get what I want."

She stepped closer, the front of her leather corset pressing the clamps into my breasts, sending shooting pains from my nipples. 

"Before I'm done with you," she whispered into my face, "you will go down on me while my friend Vikki fists you, and you will beg me to make you my whore."

Then she grabbed the bottle that was still, somehow, inside me, and pulled it out with one savage movement, making me scream long, and loud, and nearly cum.

I hung in the restraints, gasping and trying to focus, as she walked back to her pony-girl and handed her the bottle, saying "Lick that clean."

The girl began, a look of radiant happiness on her face. 

My eyes slid sideways, and I caught the other Mistress looking at me with as much anticipation in her eyes as hunger. She raised her fist and waggled it at me. 

That would be Vikki, then.

Then I saw Kate bend down, and when I looked back at her I could barely believe my eyes.

She was pulling a monster dildo out of her pony girl, as she continued to lick the beer bottle clean.

It was nearly 10" long, and looked even thicker than the bottle, and all I could do was stare at it, speechless, as she turned around, held it up and said "Pre-lubed, to be easy on the slut."

"Please," I whispered, staring at it, as she walked towards me, but I wasn't sure what I was asking for.

She grabbed my cheeks between her fingers, and, very quietly, said, "You will call me 'Mistress'."

"Sorry, Mistress," I almost sobbed, and then cried out as she jammed the monster deep inside me.

I was still gaping from the bottle, and it went straight in, shoved hard until it hit my limit and I cried out again. 

"Do you like that, little slut?" Kate asked, before slowly licking the sweat from my cheek. 

"Yes, Mistress!" I managed to gasp out, my cunt throbbing unbelievably. 

"Good," she murmured, before there was a click from between my legs, and it began to buzz. 

My nipples were throbbing with pain, I was spread and shackled and exposed in front of six people whose lifestyles frightened me more than a little, and yet my cunt was throbbing with pure lust.

I closed my eyes, I had to, as my body didn't know whether this was finally enough to make me cum, or whether it was, for a moment, too tortured to know how. 

Suddenly I felt my left nipple pulled downwards and, at the same time, .squeezed harder. 

I was now so helpless and aroused that the extra pain was pleasure.

My eyes flew open, expecting to see her pulling on the clamps, and instead saw her attaching a plumb-bob to the clamp on my right nipple. It too tightened as it was pulled downwards.

"We'll work on training you to heavier weights later," Kate said. 

My eyes nearly bugged out. Heavier?? How the fuck could flesh stand heavier!?

The relentless buzzing of the monster deep inside me was making thought nearly impossible, and I was surely on the verge of cumming, when Kate picked up a leather flogger. 

"These are the rules," she said, then lashed me across the left breast with the flogger. 

The slap stung and made both my breasts shake, making me twist futilely away even as a shock went straight to my cunt. 

"You're my slut, bitch," she said as she drew back the flogger and slammed it back-handed into my right breast.

It, too, shook and wobbled with the impact, red marks already forming on the side of each breast.

"You do NOT get to cum until I let you, do you understand that?" 

With each impact, the clover clamps on my nipples jumped and swung, and caused more shooting pains.

I closed my eyes and moaned in despair, sure only that I had absolutely no control over when I would cum.

She continued to flog me, almost casually, aiming carefully to get both sides of both breasts evenly, painting them with red welts as I hung from the shackles and jerked like a fish on a line, stumbling along the edge of violently cumming. 

"You do not get to cum, do you understand me?" she repeated. 

"Please, Mistress," I moaned, desperately, "I can't stop myself!" 

She reached down, there was a click and the vibrator slowed to a barely recognisable buzz just on the edge of sensation, a tingle that crawled over my skin and made me shake with suppressed lust. 

"What are you?" she hissed, straight into my face. 

"I'm your slut, Mistress," I barely managed to gasp out. 

"Is that all?" she asked, close enough for me to feel her breath on my skin and her breasts pressing into mine. 

Oh, of course. 

"I'm your whore!" I gasped, on the .verge of tears. 

"Really?" she asked. "Whores cum when they're told. How are you going to prove you're my whore?" 

"Please make me cum, Mistress," I begged, actually crying now. "Please make me your whore!"

"Cum, you filthy slut," she said and, with two sharp fingernails, grabbed my clit, jerked sharply and twisted.




Sarah: Party Bondage Ch. 05



I came like a thunderstorm, a scream ripped from me as I bucked wildly on the wooden cross, making the wood creak as waves of relentless, violent climax tore through me until I was left hanging, spent, sweat-drenched and gasping for air, from aching shoulders.

Kate, with the merest trace of a satisfied smile, unclipped the clamps from my nipples, letting blood flood back in and causing an excruciating combination of relief and pain. 

I barely even noticed when she undid my ankle straps, but when she undid my wrist straps I fell like a dead weight, barely even responding enough to sprawl on the floor without cracking my knees or breaking my wrists. 

The concrete floor of the garage, despite the room's comfortable temperature, was cold wherever I touched it.

I barely even noticed. In fact, I was even grateful for the cold against my aching pussy and my throbbing nipples.

Then my Mistress grabbed me by the hair and said "Up, slut. Crawl."

I found the energy from somewhere, although it was barely enough to stumble along behind her on the edge of falling, scrabbling over the hard concrete as she pulled me by my hair. 

Then there was a low, leather topped bench in front of me, and I was pulled over that until she ordered me to stop, letting me collapse on my belly on the bench, my head hanging off the end.

I dimly heard Kate sitting down in front of me, and the other Mistress said something which I didn't hear but which prompted a ribald laugh from the Master.

Suddenly, I felt my left ankle grabbed, and rope quickly and thoroughly wrapped around it, the process taking just long enough to surprise me. 

When he had finished - the hands tying me had to be the Master, they were too big and hard to be a woman's - I could feel a rope cuff snugly but not constrictingly tied for several inches up my ankle.

As I was wondering why he had only bothered with one ankle, my right wrist was grasped and pulled back, my body twisted and arched uncomfortably until my wrist was lying next to my ankle, and they were roped together, a cuff around my wrist holding it without pain but without any suggestion of looseness, either.

As he began wrapping rope around my right ankle, I was muzzily surprised to realise that although the position was uncomfortable, the bindings were anything but. 

"She looks good already," I heard Vikki say, as my left arm was pulled back and up, my body twisted again until I was left with my arms and legs tied behind me in a cross shape, bowing my body up off the bench just enough to leave me with the anticipation of an ache in my back, and only a little less pressure on my sore breasts.

So this is being hogtied, I thought with a curious sense of detachment. 

That sense of detachment, almost of unreality, was shattered as he grabbed my elbows, pulled them together and tied them in the same way.

I'm very flexible - I always have been - and the simple hogtie had stretched me but not yet been uncomfortable. The Master, with all of his experience, had noticed this and added that final extra touch to truly tell me just how powerless I was.

The stretch in my shoulders became a hard pull which threatened to become pain. I gasped, involuntarily, but was too broken to really cry out. I was merely flesh, accepting whatever they chose to do to me.

I knew what was to come - I remembered my Mistress' - promise - and when she pulled her stool closer to me, I raised my mouth willingly.

She was only the second woman I had ever gone down on, and as she used a firm grip on my hair to press my mouth into the gap between her spread thighs, I found her sharper tasting than Catherine, but also less effusively flowing, so the taste soon faded as it was diluted by my saliva.

She help my mouth against the top of her slit, so I concentrated on the area around her clit, trying to be inventive as I rubbed my tongue along and between and around her lips and found the tiny, hard nub of her clitoris.

She rocked her hips underneath me, pressing her slit harder against my mouth instead of pressing my head down harder. 

"Good little slut!" she crowed, making me feel pathetically happy that she was pleased.

I redoubled my efforts, knowing by instinct that making her cum was the only thing I should be thinking about.

Then I felt rather than heard Vikki kneeling behind me and, submissive, spread my knees and relaxed my cunt before being asked.

Vikki laughed, a barking sound that contained an odd mingling of triumph and sardonic disappointment before I felt her brace one hand against my left knee a split second before she plunged her rigid fingers straight inside me.

My mind felt it happen without surprise or reaction, but my flesh erupted, jerking forwards in shock and then in the same second pushing back.

My quiescence was shattered in a surge of pure need. 

I pressed my mouth against my Mistress' cunt as Vikki methodically worked her hand deeper inside me, her fingers spreading me knuckle by knuckle.

My shout into Kate was half screaming lust and half pain, but my flesh welcomed the pain and revelled in it.

I arched forwards against the hogtie, not able to move but trying to bury myself in Kate's cunt, the strain against the ropes the only thing which was preventing me from curling into a ball around Vikki's hand.

When she thrust her whole hand inside me, I felt and almost heard a pop as her knuckles passed my lips.

Then, incredibly, I felt her curl her fingers inside me, folding them back into a fist. 

As she began to pump, the incredible girth of her fist inside me stripped away all conscious awareness of what was happening, all rationalisation or detachment.

I held my thighs as far apart as my bonds allowed, and fastened my mouth to my Mistress' cunt.

I'm not even sure if she came. I only assume that she did, because they made me cum again. Then again. Then again.

When I recovered any sense of awareness again, I was lying in a foetal position on a thick blanket on the floor, my wrists and ankles throbbing from marks left by the rope, my cunt just plain throbbing.

I could hear voices and laughter, and dimly made out Catherine's voice among them, before realising that she was sitting up beside me on the blanket, stroking my hair.

"Oh, I think she's awake," my friend said. "Would you mind if I borrowed her for a little while?"

"Oh, I think she's earned the right to decide that one," Kate's amused voice replied.

Would I do this ever again? No, probably not.

But as I weakly rolled over and my mouth sought for the cleft between Catherine's thighs, prodding at her to spread her legs wider for me, I didn't care.

For this one night, I was a little slut bitch who was only there to serve other people.

I lowered my mouth, and began to lick.



Sarah: Party Bondage Ch. 06



Author's Note:



I know, I know. I said that the series would finish, because I had said everything that I wanted to. 

Oh well, I guess I lied, then. 

She's just too much fun to write :) 

This was actually going to be the start of another party segment, but it's been too long and I simply haven't managed to make a breakthrough, so I'm giving you this prequel scene instead. It's still 2,400 words, so it's not too short :) 

============== 

Sarah: Party Bondage ch. 06: 

I was hot, tired and bothered as I slouched through my door, not caring for my usual focus on posture and just reveling in the fact that the day was fucking well over, and I had two bottles of wine in the fridge, and at least half a bottle of bubble-bath left. 

I slammed the door behind me, kicked my heels off hard enough to go spinning down the corridor and slam into the end wall - they were old, getting worn, and no longer even making an attempt at comfort - and slung my handbag onto the kitchen table on my way to the fridge, by way of the glasses cupboard. 

I filled the glass to the brim and took a long swig while I was fumbling with the zip on my skirt behind me, and managed to work the skirt down my hips during the second swallow. In panties and bare feet, I padded down the hall towards the bathroom while shrugging off my blouse, which was hurled onto my bed on the way past, and twisted my arm up behind me during the third swallow to undo the clasp on my bra. 

The bra fell off before I spun the taps on the bath, unscrewed the bottle of bubble-bath one-handed and poured a generous swig into the water while I poured an even more generous swig of wine down my throat, and, with energetic wriggling and the aid of a thumb, I managed to get my panties off my hips and down my legs and stepped out of them, still without putting the glass down. 

I examined myself critically in the mirror. I was still keeping myself fit - god knows how, given the fucking hours I was working - and had a flat stomach, and my tits hadn't started to sag yet. It all prevented my new clit ring (ever stubbed your toe? Did you cry? Wimp!) from looking sad. 

I wandered back to the kitchen, ferreted my phone out of my bag and, holding it and the landline handset, wandered back to the bathroom. 

Oh, arse. 

I checked the level of the bath, wandered back to the kitchen after dropping my phones on the chair in the bathroom, and filled my now surprisingly empty glass. I started back to the bathroom, hesitated, and fished the bottle out of the fridge again and took it with me. 

I subsided into the bath with a happy sigh and took another swig, judging the level of the water and then spinning the taps off with my feet. 

I reached out and fished the portable phone off the chair, hitting speed dial as I juggled it into the right position and held it up to my ear. 

I took another long drink while I waited for the call to connect... dial... get picked up... 

"Hello, darling!" Clay said on the other end of the line. "How was work?" 

"Get your cock over here," I ordered, then hung up. He'd message me if he couldn't. 

Fifteen minutes later, as I was wondering if I would need to get up to fetch the other bottle, Clay came in with his key, I heard the opening and closing of the fridge door, and he came straight to the bathroom without being asked. Good boy! 

He unscrewed the bottle and refilled my glass as I gave him my best, dazzling, I've-had-a-shit-of-a-day-but-it's-good-to-see-you smile, then put the bottle next to my phones on the chair, sat on the edge of the bath and dipped his fingers in the water, judging the temperature. It had now cooled to something he would be happy with. I need heat, to relax me properly. 

"Crap day?" he asked sympathetically, as his fingers lightly trailed over my thigh underwater. 

"Don't be surprised if, tomorrow evening, you hear reports that I've shot everyone," I replied. 

His fingers trailed up my thigh and found the now warm metal of my clit piercing, toying with it lightly. I settled back in the bath and spread my knees wide. 

"Same fuckery with nobody talking to each other?" His fingers ran lightly up and down my lips, which were already getting puffy and even warmer than the water was making them. 

"What else?" I replied, with another swig. The water would wash away all my slippery, and he didn't try to penetrate me, he just kept on lightly rubbing as the delicious feelings of slow arousal spread through me. 

"Any progress at getting procedural changes in place?" His fingertips returned to my piercing, and slowly rolled it around and around as my clit stiffened and grew. 

"Not really going to happen... mmmm... until the manager admits that other people have valid opinions." My hips twisted and settled slightly of their own volition, sending little waves up and down the bath. 

"He's not listening to evidence, then?" His fingers had now settled into a slow, maddening pattern that was burning itself into my groin. My hips began to twitch and I let them, relaxing into the sensations as my body woke up and my lust stretched itself and began purring. 

"Not ... ah ... yet, but I have quietly convinced mo... most of them to start ... uh... documenting where all their time goes." I finished the sentence in a rush as a small wave of tightness in my groin burst up through me and threatened to take my breath away. I arched backwards, stretching my back and also pressing my clit up into my fingers, eyes closed as my neck arched back over my padded rest. My glass of wine dangled from my fingers, half full but temporarily forgotten. 

"I think everyone in the office needs a good spanking," Clay said in conversational sympathy as his fingers very slightly grew firmer in their circular rubbing of my now aching and burning clit. The sudden thought of spanking sent a spike of pleasure through me, and my cunt spasmed. 

"You bastard!" I breathed as the sensation made me buck upwards, and sent water sloshing over the side of the bath onto the floor, and a splash of wine over the side of the glass onto my hand. 

"I could give you a good spanking instead, if you like," he offered with his special 'honest face' as he grabbed my clit, pinched and pulled. 

My body bowed out of the bath as I came, screamed, came again and screamed again before collapsing back. Half of the bath water arched up in a mini tsunami, catching Clay full in the chest. 

I lay gasping in the remains of the water as Clay, grinning, stripped off his shirt and pants, revealing a pair of tight rubber shorts. The sight momentarily stripped me of what I was about to say, and I had to retrieve it again. 

"You bastard," I repeated, weakly, "I'll fucking get you for that!" 

He stretched, not inconsequentially giving me a fantastic view of his thighs leading up to the bulge in the front of his shorts, and on up his lightly ridged belly. 

"It arrived," he said casually. "It's on your bed." 

I went weak all over again. 

"Fuck! Take me to the bedroom. Now." 

He hauled me out of the bath and, dripping water along the floor, I walked ahead of Clay to the bedroom, drawn as though hypnotised by the promise of his new toy. 

It was lying on the bed, and I stared at it transfixed. A bundle of nearly two feet of soft leather straps, attached to 8 inches of hard rubber dildo. I felt more alive just looking at it. 

Clay stepped up behind me, his crotch pressing into my arse, and his arms snaked around me until his hands cupped, lifted, then squashed my breasts against my chest. 

"How do you want it?" he breathed into my ear. 

I slowly lifted my arms until they were pointing straight up and I was standing on tiptoe. 

Above my head, set into the ceiling, was a heavy metal hook. As I stared at the flogger, I heard Clay move away, open my wardrobe, and come back. I heard the length of chain clank over the hook before Clay folded the leather cuffs over my hands and strapped them around my wrists, testing them for snugness. 

We had carefully measured that chain, and I could only just hold my weight on the balls of my feet without hanging wholly from my wrists. 

Clay walked around me and picked up the flogger, settling it into his grip as he took the two steps back towards me and ran the leather strands gently over my breasts, letting me feel their softness as he walked around behind me, the ends of the leather falling off my uplifted breasts and swishing softly through the air. 

I let my eyes droop closed, relaxing, and felt the first swing land softly across my naked buttocks, just lightly slapping against my skin. 

It landed again across my lower back from the other direction, then my upper back, then he began to get a rhythm, flogging me lightly on buttocks, upper back, buttocks, lower back, lower back again... Keeping me guessing, working my skin until it was pink before slowly building up in intensity. 

I had been balancing on my feet, but I began to move around as the strikes landed, which meant swinging from my wrists, taking my weight on my shoulders, pivoting on my feet as my breathing quickened in time with his blows. 

He began landing harder, the blows no longer gentle slaps and beginning to sting, and for the first few I bit my lip, then let my mouth open, my body making soft gasps with each strike as I began to pant. 

He slowed down, making fewer strikes but making each one count, and all from the same side, finally landing stinging slaps that made me jerk away, and made my buttocks, tightened by my posture, clench spasmodically with each blow to their flesh. 

He hit me harder still and I began crying out with each impact, my back and my arse aflame, my cunt throbbing with a different kind of heat, when suddenly, perfectly in the rhythm of his blows, I felt a gentle lash across my breasts. 

I screamed and jerked back, frightened for one split second but unbearably aroused by it. 

Then another soft lash, across my belly, then again across my breasts, and he began working on them, slowly making them glow red as well, each impact torture to my lustful flesh, until I began begging him to make me cum. 

Suddenly he was right beside me, pressed against my body, and I could feel his lips on my ear as he whispered "Do you want to cum, slut?" 

"YES!" I sobbed, back and breasts throbbing, nipples aching and cunt burning. "I want to cum, please Master!" 

He reversed the flogger in his hand and pressed the head against my pussy, which was so slimy with my juice that he could slide it straight in, pushing it right up inside me as I screamed on an ascending scale until his hand was pressed into my lips. 

Leaning into me, holding me still, he fucked me with it in hard, brutal strokes as he whispered "You. Dirty. Fucking. Whore," over and over into my ear until I screamed again and came, gushing around the dildo and thrashing on the chain like a fish on a line. 

When I calmed down, he pulled the dildo out and fed it to me, sliding it all the way down my throat so I could suck it clean, the ends dangling onto my still tingling breasts. 

When he uncuffed me I sprawled on the bed and rolled onto my back as he stripped off his shorts and straddled my hips with his knees, walking up until I could grab his cock and guide it into my mouth, following the path the dildo had taken as I hungrily slurped on him until he pulled back, making me pout in disappointment, and kicked his legs out straight behind him, between my ankles, lowering himself as I wrapped my legs around his waist. 

When he had impaled me he pulled his knees up, pushing my thighs up and out, then folded my calves over his shoulders and fucked me steadily until we came together, leaving me too exhausted to do anything but lie there and sag into the mattress as he lay on top of me, getting slowly soft inside me. 

"I am so using that on you next time," I said weakly when I had my breath back. 

He chuckled, low and deep in my ear where his face was pressed into the bed beside mine. 

"And I think I"ll put you in the gates of hell first," I said musingly. 

He jerked, and stiffened a little inside me. "No fair!" He protested. 

I slapped him on the back, drawing a muffled yelp. "What do you mean, 'no fair'?" I demanded. "All's fair in wild, animal sex, buster!" 

I glanced down and began gently stroking his nipples, which was sure to finish the job of getting him hard again. 

"Jesus," he said, distracted by my soft stroking. "Haven't you had enough yet?" 

"Oh, I don't think you've had enough yet," I replied, pinching his nipples firmly and, as he yelped, rolling him over on the bed until I was on top. 

I pulled off him with a wet squelching noise, and slid up his body until my pussy, slimy with both our juices, was directly above his lips. 

"Make me cum with just your tongue," I said, "and I'll give you one of my special blowjobs." 

My specials lasted nearly half an hour and had been known to make him slightly delirious. 

For answer, he licked off a drop of his cum from my lips, and slid it up towards my clit. 

I sighed happily, and settled myself above him. He had a way of making me feel good, no matter how crap the day was.



Sarah: Party Bondage



I have literally never been able to cum twice without a rest in between. I've always been horribly jealous of woman who can, but I've never been able to, and in fact stimulation just after I cum is painful to me. So that shook me a bit.

I experimentally tugged on the bonds. "Umm..."

"Oh," Catherine said, as an afterthought. "Pick a safe word."

Once again, that threw me sideways. "What?"

"In case you need out, pick a safe word. It hurts, you're frightened, you panic, anything except wanting to continue. Pick a safe word."

My mind threw the relevant awareness at me. Oh, of course. "Um... What sort of safe word?" I asked lamely.

"Anything you're not going to shout out anyway, and something you're not going to forget!" Clay spoke up from somewhere behind me. 

"Um... Oh, Jesus." I had enough awareness to realise that the first word which leapt to mind would probably leap to mind when I needed it, so I went with it. "Badger. I'll use badger." It was the name of a dog I used to own, which Catherine recognised, and nodded. 

"Okay. Everyone get that? Yes? Good."

Then the bitch turned on the vibrator without warning me.

The first sensation was actually more strange than erotic, as the vibrations in my ass gave me goose bumps and the vibrations in my pussy just made me jump, which provoked a general laugh at my expense and made me laugh a touch nervously myself, before I realised that I had actually been horny enough that it was starting to get to me and I gasped in shock. 

At that, there was a low murmur of appreciation, mixed with delight, and with a sweeping curtsey and a grin plastered all over her face, Catherine passed the vibrator on. 

At this point I just closed my eyes. I didn't really want to have any idea what was going to come. I thought that if I tried to predict, or prepare, it would really mess me up. I think I was right.

The vibrator wasn't just multi-speed. The fucking thing was variable speed, so the next person who had it, ramped it up slowly, until I squealed a little, then backed off, then ramped it up again. After a few seconds I was so horny I was gagging for more, but couldn't make myself beg in front of everyone.

Then it got handed on again. 

The next person wasn't as gentle, or as subtle. They gave me spikes of increased vibration, and I really did squeal, until everyone was cheering me on and I was gasping as each increase in revs made me buck against the rope and the straps, and I was just staring ahead, not really seeing anything, and gasping for air. 

And my nipples were so hard at this point that I was nearly desperate for someone to suck on them. 

When I said my first "Oh, fuck!" it got passed on again.

That person just slowly ramped it up, but so agonisingly slowly that when I noticed what they were doing I broke, and started begging. 

When I began moaning "Oh Christ, please, make it to faster, oh fuck!" I don't know if they were congratulating whoever had the controls, or me. I didn't really care, though, I just needed more.

I could feel the buzzing right through me. 

I had played with vibrators before, but this was just something else. The way my whole body weight was pressing me down onto the vibrator on the chair, and the way I couldn't move my legs, or move my hips much more than a bit side to side, intensified everything. I couldn't escape it, I couldn't do much to increase it, and for the first time in my life being made helpless during sex was really fucking turning me on! 

Even more powerful than that was the way that it was working all the way up inside my pussy, and over my clit, at the same time. I don't have purely vaginal orgasms. I need my clit played with, or I'll do it myself, if I want to get off. And so most vibrators just don't do it for me. 

This one, which pressed hard against me, was just going to make my brain dribble out of my ears if I wasn't careful. It was so relentless, and so effective, that I felt like a cunt with a pair of breasts and a mouth attached, and my nipples were screaming out for something to happen to them. 

I pretty much lost track of what was happening after that, as I began to rut against the vibrator in earnest, and I think I got incoherent. 

I just remember the relentless pleasure, the constant, unending stimulation making me delirious with ecstasy but just hovering somewhere on the edge of cumming, trying to but unable to. 

Then someone backed off a little on the vibrator, and gave me a bit of a breathing space, and Catherine asked, from behind me, "Would you like us to keep going, darling?"

"OH FUCK YES!" I shouted, barely louder than everyone in the kitchen cheering me. 

"Anything else you'd like?" Catherine asked again, with that mock-innocent tone in her voice I should have been careful of but couldn't even detect, let alone pay attention to. "Give me," I said, voice ragged as the vibrators continued to drone away softly inside me and I could barely concentrate on putting one word in front of another, "A fucking cock to suck on."

Everyone cheered again at that, and I didn't really need to be entirely in my own head to realise that Clay would be climbing onto the table and unzipping his pants. 

He wasn't wearing any underwear - of course he wasn't, why would he? - and when he pulled his very nearly hard cock out I just about upset the entire table lunging for it. He wasn't especially long, or fat, or attractive, but he was enough of all of those, and he was right there in front of my face and I couldn't fucking get to him because he had strapped me in too hard. 

I must have looked a bit like a fish as I tried to push my lips forward, and he stood there for a second casually stroking himself before he pushed forward until his head was just under my nose but I couldn't reach him with my lips. Which was an evil bastard thing to do to a girl. 

I could smell him, and it was driving me even more wild. I barely noticed that the vibrator had been turned down a bit. So it wouldn't distract me, I suppose. 

Then he relented and fed it to me a bit at a time, and I was sucking on him so hard before even the end of his head had pushed between my lips that my cheeks nearly met each other. He kept on pushing in, with my head pushed forward to meet him, until I swallowed him whole and my nose was squashed against his belly. 

Then he pulled out and started fucking my face, and at the same time the vibrator was turned up really, really high. I'm not sure what I did to him, but it seemed to be effective, and he grabbed my head for a second before letting me go and letting me work on him. Somewhere in there, I forgot to ask him to please, oh please God, play with my nipples, but I guess in that situation a good man isn't going to ignore that possibility, is he? 

I just about exploded when he rang his fingertips lightly over them, and then starting squeezing them gently, and I managed to get enough strangled noises out around his cock in my mouth that he got the gist and started pulling harder. 

Then Catherine said behind me, "We'll let you cum in a minute, darling." That nearly did it to me, too, and I attacked Clay's cock in a frenzy until I nearly passed out from lack of oxygen, and just as I was getting desperate again I felt the vibrator go up to maximum. 

I very nearly passed out. I do remember screaming. Clay pulled out - as much for his own safety as to let everyone hear me - and I had the longest, noisiest, most desperate orgasm of my life. 

I was still recovering when the cheering and the clapping had died down, and they untied me. I had to be lifted down off the table, and propped up in a chair to recover. 

I was naked, gaping wide at everyone, and didn't care, and my breasts were hanging out and I didn't care about that either. Clay had zipped up again, and I did care about that. "Oy, you," I said as I grabbed his waist-band. "I don't remember tasting your cum. I need to finish you." 

So that was how I also ended up sitting in someone else's kitchen and giving a man a blowjob until he came, and it dribbled down my chin and onto my tits. Catherine licked that, which was the closest I had ever been to doing another girl. I think she was working on me that way as well. 

Which, dammit, is just fine by me!