3 comments/ 68340 views/ 18 favorites Thrust By: girlfridae "Come here," she ordered. I guess it wasn't so much an order as a firm suggestion. Whatever the case, I obeyed as if it was a command and stood before her, head down, eyes cast demurely up. She closed the gap between us with a step and I felt the texture of her denim pressed firmly against my bare leg. My breath hitched when her hand raised, and I watched it carefully. It came down slowly, as if considering it's options, and ended up tangled in my unbound hair. My head pulled back and my lips were covered. She backed me two, three, four steps until I hit wall and her hands lowered to my ass and lifted until I was on tiptoe and she was pressed firm against me. I felt the bulge of latex she had playfully concealed inside her jeans press against me. Only our clothing separated my already pulsing pussy from being filled by her, though my skirt was hitched high enough, and my panties were wet through already. Only a layer of denim separated her from me and I desperately wanted that layer to disappear. When I reached for her zipper, she caught my hands and my wrists tight. She meant to tease and I moaned my frustration against her neck. She released one wrist, but kept the other pressed tight against me. I wasn't sure what to do with the free hand, so I kept it obediently at my side while she used her own free hand to lift my skirt. Her fingers expertly found the place where I ached the most and she rubbed me through the fabric of my panties and whispered her intentions in my ear. "Do you want your orgasm now, honey? You can have it. Explode against my hand." Her movements quickened and I tossed my head. My nipples hardened and I felt them pressing against the lace of my bra. She was right. This was exactly what I wanted, and I pressed my hip against her hand in confirmation. "Or," she continued. "I can fuck you with this." She pressed her own hips forward and I felt the bulge beneath her jeans against my thigh. "I can put it inside you, and you can scream for me, just as I like. You know how I love the noises you make when I'm inside you. Do you want that?" As she spoke, her hand had gently slowed and I nodded and gasped until her hand slowed to a stop. "Bend over the table," she ordered, gesturing to the long table that sat behind the couch. I did as I was told. The table was cool against my stomach. I pressed my breasts against the wood and waited. "Lift up your skirt and lower your panties." I did so immediately and spread my legs as well. I could feel my long hair warming my bare back. My bra, and my skirt bunched around my waist my only barrier between me and her. She studied me for a moment, without touching me, and my breathing slowed, though I felt a blush creeping, her gaze was so intense. Just as I began considering turning my head to see what she was up to, I heard the slow rip of her zipper lowering, and the soft rustle of her big, fake, gorgeous cock being removed from it's confines. Her hands found my ass first, and she raised me back onto my tip toes. I swallowed and waited. The firm knob of her cock found my clit and rubbed it suggestively for a moment before moving up, to the opening of my cunt. I felt a firm hand on my hip as the other helped guide her cock into me. "Oh my god," I moaned as it entered me. She took a long time to fill me, letting me adjust to the feeling. I closed my eyes and rested my cheek against the table and let her enter me. When she was all the way inside, she moved both her hands to my hips and pressed her nails into my flesh, an indication that she was through with niceties and I was about to be fucked. I raised my head, tossed my hair over my shoulder, and let out a high, feminine squeal when she pulled back and pressed confidently back into me. Two, three, four more thrusts like that and her body covered me. I felt her breath on my back as she gathered up my hair into her fists and used them as reigns while her hips thrust quickly against me. My squeals mounted to ecstatic screams and my back arched as she pulled harder on my hair. I was reduced to screams of "yes! yes! yes!" repeatedly, like a chant that worked in time with her thrusts. I was incapable of thought, only sensation by this time. I completely gave in and felt tears fall down my cheeks as my screams grew throaty and my cunt ached. I craved only release, but couldn't imagine not being filled so completely, or covered so fully by her. Then, suddenly, she was no longer inside me and I whimpered for her return. "Turn around." I turned and she lowered me onto the table. I placed one leg on the back of the couch, she slung the other over her shoulder, and before my mind could fully register that she was no longer fucking me, her tongue was pressed against me and the friction of her sure movements was controlling me. It wasn't a full minute with her mouth against my clit before I clenched my thighs and exploded with one long, pretty scream, just for her. The flutter of my orgasm gradually slowed, until I was filled with a lazy warmth throughout my entire body, and I smiled contently. Every bit of me was pleasantly sore, inside and out, but I longed only to curl up at her side and experience it again as soon as possible. She let me rest for a minute or two before leaning over me, pushing my hair away from my face, and whispering in my ear, "my turn." Thrusting Machine Author's foreword— After taking a three-month hiatus to deal with the death of my father and the settling of his estate, I am now back with my seventeenth offering to the readers of Literotica. You are invited to comment and also to seek out the sixteen older postings. Enjoy! Thrusting Machine Brad has a problem. His girlfriend Amber is a self-described nymphomaniac. Most men would be thrilled to have such a "problem" but Amber was getting harder and harder to satisfy and control. She loves cock and Brad loves providing his as often as possible, but there are times a guy just wanted to sit back with a beer and some fried chicken to watch the football game. There were other times he just didn't feel like doing any crotch-crashing—sometimes his poor old pecker was just too pooped to pop. To make matters worse, Amber was a stone-cold fox. She was twenty-three years old, 5'10" tall and nicely assembled. She was also a natural redhead and her face resembled the Pebbles character from The Flintstones cartoon series of the 1960s—all she needed was the chicken bone barrette. Her hair was shoulder length and thick, the color of an antique cedar chest. Her B-cup boobs had a little bit of slosh to them, but her ass was full, tight and amazing! She liked to wear tight jeans; her pussy made an enticing vertical slot for men to admire. Good looks like hers dictated she could score a man whenever she felt the need. Being a nymphomaniac, she felt the need quite often. Brad and Amber worked together at a factory. He had seen her give the other men on the East Line more than one come-ye-hither glance. Gerrick, Gabe, Oscar, Ali, Dan, Dirk, Jose, Josh, Jesse, Kenny—all were within her age bracket, give or take. Mike and John were both in their late forties and divorced; Brad fretted they might be able to catch Amber's roving eye during a weak moment and give them a reason to advance. Hell, he'd even seen her give Dennis a once over! Brad didn't need to worry about him; Dennis was in his sixties and his pecker had probably long since dried up and blown away. Still, Brad didn't need the worry of keeping his prime hunk of red-haired female satisfied. He wanted to keep her for himself since Amber was the woman to have when he was in the mood for a penis pounding party. Her pussy muscles were strong and very talented; rumor had it she could peel the shell off a hard-boiled egg just by slipping it into her trench for a few minutes. So the questions remained—how to keep her enough sexually satisfied that she wasn't tempted to seek out other men? How could he accomplish giving her enough mansteel without wearing yet another layer of skin off his? Brad knew he didn't know everything, so he sought the council of his co-worker John. He was 48 and had been married for twenty-one years, so it was logical to presume he knew his way around a woman's body. He might be able to give some insight on the finer points of satisfying a perpetually horny woman. John gave him the Internet addresses of several websites. Some offered sexual potency drugs and herbs for him, others offered sensitizing creams and lotions for her, and others just offered advice. None of which were of any help. There was one website left on the list and Brad entered it into his computer. He assured the website he was over 21 by clicking the proper icon. His brown eyes almost bugged out of his head when he saw the wares advertised there. Over the next hour, he surfed that website from end to end. Then he pulled out his credit card and ordered one of their products. It was expensive but it would be worth it if the product could help him quench some of the embers in Amber's burning box. A week passed. Brad did his best to keep her sexual embers and charms to himself and hoped the product would arrive sooner than later. She was usually in the mood for more of the same just ten minutes after delivering his inseam soldiers into her slot. A guy just cannot get it up again so quickly—not even a twenty-four-year-old man in the midst of his sexual prime. Annoyed but hiding most of it, Amber would then break out the dildoes and vibrators for a self-help party until he was once again ready to rise to the occasion. Finally—blessedly—the product arrived. Amber was at the grocery store when the FedEx driver delivered it, so Brad moved quickly to get it assembled before she returned. He slid the device under the bed and waited for his foxy redheaded nympho to get home. She got back thirty minutes later. He helped her carry the stuff in and get them put away. He popped a beer and regarded her with his bedroom eyes while she arranged stuff in the freezer. Experience told him that look would get her pussy slobbering in no time. Amber finished and closed the door. She turned around and saw that look in her lover's eyes. "Yes?" she asked coyly. "Yes!" he said happily. "Got your condoms?" "Got a dozen and I plan to wear them all." Amber quickly grabbed him and dragged him into the bedroom. They got naked quickly and flopped onto the bed. He ran his hands over her taut and freckled flesh, nibbling on her boobs as she gasped and groaned under him. Amber wished he'd indulge in pussy licking more often but he didn't consider that a manly thing to do. She pushed the thought aside and continued to bounce and writhe all over the bed as he conducted his capers on her body. "Suck me!" he commanded. "Don't you dare come," she warned as she climbed into position. She liked his cock in her mouth but disliked his juices. Besides, there was the matter of blowing his load and making his pecker peter out too soon—she wanted him to climax in her pussy. Nowhere else. Amber took him in and applied vacuum. Brad marveled at how her tongue caressed his sex sword; it never failed to amaze him just how talented her mouth was! He jerked and moaned with involuntary fits and starts as his nerve endings fired in response. Amber, meanwhile, swiveled her greenish-hazel eyes up to look at his face. If he got too close to climax, she would "accidentally" bite him. That would cool him down. She very much disliked doing it—so did Brad, obviously—but she needed his boner banging around in her beaver. Brad was getting close and he pushed her back. "Spread!" he ordered curtly. Amber flopped back and opened her legs without complaint about the bluntness of his order. He climbed atop her, lined himself up and slid into her with all the gentleness of a head-on collision. Supporting his weight above her, Brad pumped her pussy with youthful vigor. She flexed her pelvis upward with each inward stroke and used her award-winning pussy muscles to clench his shaft on each outward stroke. Heat spread throughout loins and began to radiate through her body. Brad delighted in the slippery embrace of her cunt; she delighted in the outward displacement of his cock. She hoped he could hold off his orgasm since she needed his pussy strokes for as long as he could keep them going. But her wish was in vain—he climaxed a few moments later. Amber watched as it had its way with him, feeling disappointed. She glanced at the bedside clock as he settled his body atop her to rest; only fifteen minutes had gone by from kitchen to climax. Hell, fifteen minutes was barely enough time to get her warmed up… and he was done already. Dammit! He lifted his head up and gave her a kiss. "I bet you think we're done." "Of course we're done," she said sullenly. "You blew your load. That means you're out of action for an hour or so." Brad smiled—time to spring his surprise. He climbed off her and gestured her to her feet. Curious, Amber obeyed. He opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out some of the rope stored in there. They liked to indulge in a little bit of bondage, and he always climaxed really hard while fucking her helplessly squirming body. "Turn around and put your hands behind you." She complied and he tied her wrists side-by-side behind her back. A length of rope was then looped over the wrist bindings and tied with a simple granny knot, leaving two long tails. Then he tied a length to each knee, again leaving a long tail. A long length of rope was tied to the plastic mattress handle neared the head of the bed. Lastly, a shorter length was routed around each foot of the bed's frame. "On the bed." Amber perched gingerly on the bed because of her bindings, but Brad pushed her onto her back before she could maneuver there herself. "Spread your legs to where you like `em for fucking." She obeyed and he used the two long tails tied to her wrist bindings to secure her ankles. Trying to straighten her legs would merely pull on her arms and wrists; she could feel the rope pressing on her ass cheeks under her. Brad pulled up the rope tied to the mattress handle. He wedged the end between her arm and torso, led it across her chest above her breasts, wedged it between her other arm and torso before tying it off on the opposite mattress handle. Amber saw this would keep her from sitting up. The ropes looped around the bedframe's feet were next and each were tied to her thighs. Amber didn't know what those ropes were for, but Brad did. Last but not least were the knee ropes. Brad spread her legs even wider and tied each knee rope to its nearest mattress handle. He stepped back to admire his handiwork—Amber wasn't going anywhere. Her legs were held spread at a 110-degree angle, her pussy was nicely exposed, she couldn't sit up and she couldn't squirm away. Perfect. Brad sat on the bed beside her. "You are now going to get more cock than you can handle," he informed her. "In fact, you're going to get so much cock, you're going to beg me to stop!" Amber burst out laughing—he was such a card! "Yeah, right!" she sneered. "I am going to wear out your pussy," he bragged. "You're gonna be doing the screen job tonight walking around like you're straddling a fence!" She was intrigued by the idea but she knew he couldn't pull it off—he was just a man, after all, and he'd spew his seed sooner or later. "Big words," she sneered, still not believing it. "Let's see you keep pumping for—" "Three hours?" he suggested. "You can't fuck me for three solid hours!" she exclaimed, laughing again. "Does that mean you don't want it?" "No!" Amber barked. "Of course I want it. But you can't do it! You can't fuck me for three solid hours straight without stopping! You just can't do it." "Sure I can." "Okay, big man! Show me! Get it hard and get it busy!" The thought of having her beaver banged for three solid hours sounded like heaven on a stick. Amber knew she'd accept whatever he could give her—until he popped his cork again. As usual. "Three solid hours?" he asked coyly, just to be sure. "Are you sure you want me to fuck you for three solid hours?" "Yes," she replied with impish impatience. "I want you to fuck me for three solid hours. Don't pause, don't stop and don't do anything but thrust for three solid hours." But Amber knew there was no way he could keep banging away that long non-stop. It just wasn't humanly possible. Still, she was surely willing to have him try—anything to get him between her legs again, his hard rod cradled within her soft nest. Brad smirked, stood and went to the foot of the bed. He pulled the newly purchased device out from under the bed and plopped it on the mattress just below her crotch as Amber watched. It was about three feet long and had a vertical flywheel on the side of a black cylinder, with a connecting rod attached to the outer diameter. The other end of the connecting rod was connected to a stainless steel shaft, and the other end of that had a large flesh-colored dildo attached to it. "What's that?" she asked. He didn't answer as he pointed the dildo at her slit and maneuvered it closer. Then he carefully inserted the dildo between her vaginal lips. Amber felt it tunnel into her as he slid the device it was mounted to closer still. Then she flinched. "Not so deep!" Brad pulled it out a bit more than an inch and secured it in place with a triangulated rope arrangement. "There!" he said, sounding satisfied. Amber looked between her freckled breasts at the unknown device. "So what does it do? It seems pretty big to be a vibrator." Brad picked up the hardwired remote control box and flipped a switch on it. The green light on it lit up and the vertical flywheel slowly began to turn. The connecting rod followed it, as did the shaft attached to the other end. The dildo backed out of Amber's beaver before moving in again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Amber looked down at it again, startled. She could see the flywheel turning and the dildo thrusting. She felt it move back and forth within her pussy and she moved her hips a little, trying to adjust the angle at which it penetrated her. "This is called a thrusting machine," Brad informed her, watching her lush freckled nudity wiggle against her binding ropes. "I bought it from a website John told me about." Amber liked what it was doing. "So why'd you tie me up first?" "Because this machine is mine!" he said happily. "We're not marred yet and you do not have my permission to use it without me. There is a keyed lock on it so you can't sneak in here and have a party by yourself. You can play with the remote control all you like—" he gestured with it for emphasis "—but it won't run without the key." "Oh, Brad!" she whined. "That's not fair! You can't use it by yourself. It's a machine built for women!" "Indeed it is," he agreed readily, watching her helpless nudity as she squirmed. He turned up the dial; the flywheel spun faster and made the dildo fuck her faster. Amber squirmed against her bondage a bit more aggressively, liking how it stroked her. "Turn it up." Brad used ten solid minutes to very slowly advance the thrusting machine's speed. Amber wanted to strangle him for making her wait. "There! The instruction booklet says that's faster than men can go." Which was true; it felt a lot faster than Brad or any other man had fucked her before. "Oh damn, that's nice," wheezed Amber, loving the feel of the dildo banging around inside her. She worked within the limits of her bondage to vary the angle of its penetration; it would make her vagina very sore to have it repeatedly slid across the same place each and every time. Brad put the control down beside her hip, sat beside her and reached between her legs. Careful to keep his fingers out of the thrusting dildo's path, he gently massaged her clitoris. Amber drew a startled breath, flexed her back as she squealed with pleasure and began to writhe erotically within her bindings. A hard, thrusting dildo in her snatch. Gently caressing fingers on her clit. Her body inescapably bound. All three elements of pleasure combined in her brain to bring her to a quick series of ferocious orgasms as Brad watched them have their way with her. The machine's motor growled low under the greater load as Amber's pussy muscles squeezed the thrusting dildo with all their strength. He eased off her clit enough to let her calm down a small bit, then started again. She thrashed mindlessly in her rigorous bondage, gasping, her heart pounding like never before. Her climaxes were intense enough to cause an unusual blush glow from her face, neck and upper chest. Brad forced her to have a dozen orgasms before he stopped. Then he leaned over and kissed her; Amber replied by attempting to suck his entire face off. He groped and squeezed a breast as his lips slid over hers, feeling her constant twitches and wiggles against her ropes as the thrusting machine whirred about its business unabated. He broke the kiss and ran a thumb over her cheek, admiring the glitter in her eyes. "See you in three hours," he said softly as he stood. He headed for the door. "Brad!" Amber screeched, alarmed. "You fucking asshole, get back—" The bedroom door closed, leaving her alone. "Bradley!" she shouted. "You get your ass back here! Right fucking now!" He did not. Amber frantically looked around for the control box and found it nine inches from the side of her right hip. The cord running between it and the machine was laying over the spreader rope on that side. She might have been able to bounce on the mattress enough to get it to slide closer to her if not for that. She opened her legs a bit wider and the knee ropes went slack. Then she snapped them closer together in the hope of dislodging the controls and letting it slide closer to her butt. Turning it off wasn't her idea at the moment, but she did want to have the ability and option of varying its speed. There would be some comfort in having the control box within reach. Amber never had been very good at physics—the rope going taut caused the control box to bounce off the edge of the bed and fall to the floor as she watched in horror. "Well, that was fuckin' brilliant," she muttered to herself, disgusted. She looked nervously between her boobs and legs to see if there was some kind of emergency switch or something. There was none she could see. She kept her hips moving so the energetically thrusting dildo wouldn't go in at the same angle every time. Amber struggled with great aggression. Her ankles, armpits, knees and wrists began to feel chafed with ropeburns. She writhed her hips up, to the side, down, back up, back to the side, down, sideways and up before repeating more of the same. Her sopping pussy was delightfully ablaze as the motorized dildo pounded into her with ruthless and mechanical efficiency. Looking up at the alarm clock, Amber counted the number of times it thrust into her over the span of one minute. She counted ninety. Ninety strokes in and ninety strokes out—per minute. Times sixty minutes in an hour. Times three hours. "Bradley!!!" she screamed as loud as physically possible. Brad smiled to himself on the couch in the living room as he nibbled on some of last night's leftover fried chicken, a cold beer nestled against the inside of his thigh. The Indianapolis Colts were up by a field goal two minutes into the second quarter. It was looking to be a great game. Be careful what you say you want—you might get it. * Copyright © 2009 by the author John W. Adams, Jr. All rights reserved. Thrusting Machine, Revisited Author's Foreword— This is my eighteenth offering to Literotica and the second of my two-part Thrusting Machine series. Comments are encouraged and welcome. You are also invited to visit my profile and find in there the list of my older offerings. Enjoy! + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Thrusting Machine, Revisited Amber mournfully caressed the thick, penis-like dildo attachment of the thrusting machine her fiancé Brad had purchased a few months ago. Not for the first time, she thought it was highly unfair to not let her use it when he wasn't around. It seemed selfish. The machine was designed and built for women to masturbate, unless Brad wanted to take that dildo up his ass—which he most assuredly did not! He was a man's man and by no means a faggot. The hardwired remote control had a keyed lock, and Brad had the key with him at the major auto parts swap meet he was attending in Indianapolis with their co-worker John. That key had to be in place and turned ninety degrees for the motor to get its electricity. The control box was twice the size of a deck of playing cards and had a variable speed control knob and calibrated scale on one side. Amber wondered if there was a way to bypass the key so she could have a crotch-crashing party by herself. She looked it over. Granted, her mechanical skill was almost nil, but some things were obvious. Amber knew the difference between a Phillips and straight-head screws, but she had no idea what a "Torx" screw was—and the control box was held together by six Torx-head screws in deeply recessed holes. The heads were visible but she didn't think they had a tool that would fit their unusual configuration. Amber looked at the lock itself. She had seen the keys Brad kept guarded; they were simply cheap stamped steel, like those made for an equally cheap padlock. Thinking about the cheapness of the key made her remember something from her childhood… At the age of ten back in 1993, Amber had locked her bike to a drainpipe while going to the store for her mother. Only upon getting the groceries and returning to her bike did she discover she'd left the key at home. There was no way to unlock her bike and it was a two-mile walk to make carrying a gallon of milk and a half-gallon of ice cream. That ice cream would be half melted by the time she got home; to that end, she started looking for a way to break of defeat the lock. A passerby noted her dilemma and offered to help. He fetched the jack handle from the trunk of his car and jammed it between the hasp and the chain. A tow strap secured the jack handle to the front bumper and he put his car in reverse. Idle speed was all that was needed to rip the hasp right out of the lock. The man explained he was a retired locksmith and said that cheap padlocks can be defeated with little effort." He told her what tumblers were and that cheap padlocks had only two or three. "If I had my toolkit with me," he said as she got ready to depart," "I could've picked the lock or simply broken the tumblers." "`Broken the tumblers,'" Amber said thoughtfully, looking over the thrusting machine's lock with renewed interest. Smiling widely, Amber trotted her beautiful redheaded self out to the garage, her braless breasts bouncing under her shirt. She dug through Brad's tools, looking for something slim enough to be inserted into the lock yet strong enough to take the load. A long screwdriver and a pair of locking pliers were located and carried to the bedroom. She felt her pussy start to tingle in anticipation as she thought about that wonderfully wide dildo bopping around inside her beaver. The screwdriver's bit was crammed into the lock and the locking pliers clamped on to provide leverage. Using a knee to hold the control box against the mattress, she set herself to pull on the locked pliers. Making sure she was pulling in the proper direction, Amber tensed her muscles and applied torque. The lock broke after just one second. Amber twisted the lock back and forth, hearing the ruined tumblers grating and scratching around inside. She put it in the "run" position, removed the screwdriver and hoped she hadn't broken the whole damned thin g as she turned the speed knob from off to its lowest setting. The green light came on. Her hopes buoyed, she advanced the knob and was rewarded with the dildo responding to her inputs and fucking the air over the bed. Amber practically squealed with glee; now she could use the thrusting machine and dear Brad would be none the wider! Moving quickly, she put the tools away and returned to the bedroom. She stripped the clothes off her freckled body, throwing them wherever they went in her haste. Then she flopped onto the bed, opened her legs and crabwalked down the mattress toward the business end of the thrusting machine. The bulbous head of the dildo was guided into her tingling slot. Amber turned the knob from off to its nine o'clock setting. The motor hummed almost silently, pulled the dildo gently from her snatch and just as gently thrust it back in again. "Ahh, yeah!" she breathed happily as the machine replicated a man's fucking motions. She quickly lost herself to the sensations the marvel of mechanical science was providing. The radio was tuned to some soft music and her vibrator provided clitoral augmentation as the thrusting machine gave her vaginal displacement and stimulation. Not having to worry about being noisy in the empty house, Amber let all her inhibitions go gave full voice to her multitude of orgasms. It was times like these that made her glad to have been born female! Amber lost all track of time as orgasm after orgasm better than any spa treatment or fuckin' bubble bath ever could! Her pussy was happily ablaze and just a tiny bit sore, the contour sheet smelled faintly of sweaty sex, and the motor's casing was warm to the touch from running for so long. But she was by no means done—Amber was a nymphomaniac and lived to have some solid goodness flailing about inside her, be it man or machine. She turned the machine off, took the dildo out of her sweet and red-stranded sex and went into the bathroom. Sitting on the porcelain throne, Amber wondered how best to amplify the feeling her mechanical husband was providing. Three of the five times they had used the machine had been with her securely tied up. Brad drove her absolutely crazy with nibbling lips on her boobs, caressing hands upon her helpless body and a teasing vibrator on her clit. He liked to let her climb right to the brink of orgasm only to remove all but the thrusting until she cooled down a bit—this made her climax much more ferociously when he finally allowed it. Repeatedly teasing her up and down like that made her want to let a thousand ravenous rats eat him alive—but that feeling always passed after blowing the spider webs out of the corners of the bedroom's ceilings with the force of her orgasmic screams. She finished in the bathroom and padded naked into the kitchen for a beer. She leaned against the countertop and contemplated the microwave oven as she thought about how to tie herself up yet still retain an avenue of escape. After several minutes and five or six sips of beer, a light bulb went off above her pretty red head. She went to the freezer, opened it and shivered as a wave of cold wafted across her chest. Her breasts got a nice set of gooseflesh as her nipples stiffened into tall points. "Yes!" she crowed, seeing the green plastic bottle was still there. Amber closed the door ad scurried back to the bedroom to get things ready. Brad had once threatened to secure her into bondage, call her in sick to work and leave her there, but it wouldn't do to leave her stuck for eight hours. To that end, he tied a length of string to a handcuff key, placed it in an eight-ounce bottle, filled it with water and put it in the freezer. Now Brad could rope her naked sexiness to a folding metal chair but leave her wrists restrained just by the handcuffs. Amber could then spend the next two or three hours happily struggling for escape from her lonely bondage as the ice melted and released the key. Then she could release the cuffs, untie herself and masturbate until Brad got home, and then jump his bones right there in the foyer as soon as he walked in the door. Amber got things ready and fetched the all-important bottle. She tied her ankles to her thighs, and then another length was run to the mattress handles, thus holding her legs spread. The dildo was inserted into her salivating slit and the control box placed within reach of the handcuffs, which were in turn tied to the headboard. The machine was activated and she thrust and squirmed her lower body against her bindings to make sure everything was set before locking herself in. Amber glanced at the clock just before placing her wrists into the handcuffs—it was 2:27pm on a Sunday afternoon. Brad and John wouldn't be back until four at the earliest, and the ice would melt before then. She had plenty of time to have her self-help party and get things put away before they returned. Satisfied, Amber closed the police-quality handcuffs and let the machine have its way with her. With the control box in her hand and her greenish-hazel eyes half shut, Amber pretended Brad was banging her with her prized penile protrusion. She moaned and gasped and struggled against her relentless, inescapable and self-created bondage with all the energy her naked, freckled and sexy twentysomething body could manage. There was just one problem. It was March and Daylight Saving Time had occurred twelve hours ago. Brad and Amber had forgotten to reset their clocks ahead one hour and, as a result, it was just after three-thirty in the afternoon. The ice would need at least seventy minutes to melt and Amber did not realize that Brad and John would be back— In fifteen minutes! John backed his Mercury Sable sedan into the driveway to off-load Brad's loot directly into the garage. Brad unlocked the front door and told John where the bathroom was as he went around to roll up the big door. John went to relieve his forty-eight-year-old bladder while Brad was busy. En route down the hall, John heard the moaning and pleading voice of Amber coming from the doorway directly across from the bathroom. He ignored it since he'd been holding his water for better than a hundred miles and made use of the plumbing. Feeling relieved sixty seconds later, John flushed and opened the door just in time to see a naked and tied-up Amber have an orgasm in the bedroom across the hall. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head; he knew she was a gorgeous natural redhead but had no idea just how gorgeous she really was. Until now! "Can I give y'all a hand there, ma'am?" he asked in a John Wayne drawl. Amber, startled, opened her eyes to see the wholly unexpected sight of her and Brad's co-worker John standing in the doorway. "What the fuck?!" she screeched, trying and failing to hide herself. "I can see Brad bought you that machine I told him about," said John lazily with a smirk, watching it continue to plunge the dildo into her pussy without pause. "What the fuck are you doing back so early?!" she screeched, blushing like crazy and trying to escape his wide and appreciating eyes. "This is the Sunday that Daylight Saving Time jumps ahead one hour," stepping out of sight to preserve her modesty. "Actually, we got back about ten minutes later than planned." "Where's Brad?!" she demanded. "I'm right here," he called from the living room as his footsteps approached. "You're not gonna believe what I found when I came out of the bathroom," John said dryly, gesturing toward the bedroom door. He had an idea and stepped in. Brad stopped in his tracks as he saw his fiancée naked in self-administered bondage while getting her pussy pummeled by the thrusting machine Amber already knew wasn't to be used without him. He folded his arms and glared at her, quite pissed off. "Hi, honey," squeaked Amber gamely, knowing she was guilty as sin and caught in the act. Brad reached for the control. She tried to keep it away but was limited by the handcuffs; he got it away in mere seconds. He saw the fresh scratches on the lock face and recalled the story of the bike padlock when she was a kid. Brad knew Amber had taken a chance of totally fucking up a very expensive piece of machinery and felt his anger deepen. "John, come here!" "Brad!" screeched the naked and helplessly bound Amber, blushing again. John entered and Brad showed him the forced lock. "Looks like she jimmied it," observed Mister Obvious. "John, would you mind stepping out, please?" Amber asked with pointed politeness as the dildo continued to pounding her pussy without pause. "Nah, he's going to stay," Brad declared as he reached for a set of toenail clippers. She and John watched as he clipped the string leading to the handcuff key frozen into the bottle on the headboard. "Brad!" Amber screeched angrily as he flopped the string well out of her reach. She was his prisoner in her own self-bondage until he saw fit to release her. John chuckled as Amber blushed mightily—her goose was being cooked in the oven she had built herself. "You need to be taught a lesson," Brad said with a mischievous smirk on his face and an evil glint in his eyes. "Maybe having our co-worker watch you struggle against your own bindings as I make you cum over and over and over again will teach you a thing or two!" He turned to the widely smiling John. "Go grab yourself a beer or a soda or something. Bring one of those folding chairs from the living room closet too." "Brad!" snarled Amber through clenched teeth, getting angry herself as John left the room. "Dammit, release me!" "You took a chance at destroying a very expensive machine," he pointed out, not moving. "I ordered the lock put on there for a reason!" Amber didn't have time to retort her usual reasons about the machine being built for women because John returned with a chair and a soda. He unfolded the chair, had a seat and took a sip. He was smiling wolfishly as he unabashedly admired the naked delights of the divine Miss Amber. She noticed he had placed the chair for an easy view of the plunger polishing her pussy. "Perhaps now would be a good time to show her gift you bought?" John asked Brad with a knowing grin. "Good idea," he said happily. "You make her bindings more secure while I go get it." "Brad, you asshole!" she screeched as he stepped out. He ignored her and headed for the living room as John stood to do his bidding. "John, please release me!" "It's not nice to call your future loving hubby an asshole," he pointed out mildly as he retied her knots with a much greater emphasis on security. He shamelessly feasted his eyes upon her helpless nakedness, resisting the urge to pull out his felt-tip marker and play connect-the-dots with her thousands of freckles. "You're as much a fucking asshole as he is!" she snarled angrily, twisting fruitlessly against her reinforced bondage. "Now you shouldn't have gone and said that," he said with a tone of drawled and faked regret. John picked up two spring-loaded hair clips from the headboard. Amber watched warily as he squeezed one and clamped it to his finger to test its holding power. Satisfied, he bent forward toward her, aiming the hair clip at her nearest nipple. "Don't you fucking dare!" she shouted with great hostility, viciously struggling to escape his obvious intent. Amber ended up punishing herself; she had to maintain a certain alignment with the thrusting machine lest it gouge painfully into one side or the other of her vagina. Meanwhile, John ignored her protest and clipped the hair clip to a stiff and rosy bud. The other was applied a moment later. The clips weren't as strong or as painful as a set of clothespins, Amber realized, but they did a great job of holding her attention. She aimed a pouty, wounded expression at him, but he was duly unimpressed. He finished making her bindings even more escape-proof as Brad returned with a small package. He saw the makeshift nipple clamps and tossed a look at John. "She called me an asshole," he explained with a shrug. "Ah," he said as if that explained that. Amber glared at him as he left the hair clips to squeeze her nips while he opened the package. "We knew you were not pleased about me being gone all day, so we stopped at a sex shop along I-69 and bought you a little something." "Yay me," Amber grumbled with annoyance, watching John—who was old enough to be her father—watch the machine-mounted dildo repeatedly disappear and reappear from the moist confines of her sex. He was three years divorced and had no prospects for getting laid anytime soon, so he took what female exposure he could get. Being a freckle-bedecked natural redhead helped; women were women, but redheaded women were the Holy Grail of femininity to him. Amber watched warily as Brad finished assembling the thing. Whatever it was, it was about half the size of the palm of her hand and had three elastic straps attached. It also had a small canister thingie attached to it by a thin white wire. Brad pushed the longest strap under her back. She resisted but could not mount an effective defense within her bindings while maintaining the proper dildo-to-vaginal alignment with the machine. Meanwhile, John watched while nursing his soda, admiring her nudity while he could. He was composing a letter of thanks to send to the Governor of Indiana for putting the state on Daylight Saving Time as it had been instrumental in being allowed to feast his eyes upon her unfortunate situation. Brad had the device in place. Whatever it was, it was held to her crotch by the straps and situated upon her neatly trimmed red-stranded pubic shrubbery. It must have a tab on the back of it, Amber presumed, because she could feel something touching her clit. "I know you like getting your pussy pounded," he said, holding the canister poised in his hand. "I know you like having orgasms. But you broke something that is supposed to be for us to share together. Therefore, your punishment will be to have more orgasms than you can tolerate!" Amber laughed—he was such a kidder! "I can tolerate a lot of orgasms," she said with a snicker. "You will be begging me to turn these machines off before you know it!" he boasted. "John, take note of the time." He looked at his watch. "It'll be forty-five minutes after the hour in five… four… three… two… one… now!" The canister in Brad's hand went click— —And Amber's entire body went stiff as her voice let out a startled groan. The small device was vibrating directly on her clit! "Oh, that's nice!" she wheezed as the vibes coursed throughout her body. "This little gizmo is called a Butterfly and you won't think it's so nice after we get done with you," Brad pointed out as he made his way to the opposite side of the bed. She realized her was going over there to let the invited voyeur John have an eyeful of whatever he had planned—the bastard! Both men watched Amber shiver, struggle, moan, pant, gasp, wheeze, whine and writhe as both machines mindlessly drove her helpless libido ever upwards. She twisted and fought her reinforced binding ropes for both the escape and her horniness. After a moment, Brad picked up the bottle with the key frozen into it. It was still cold to the touch and he touched it to a hair clip-contained nipple. Amber gasped and jerked hard. She twisted away but she had a limited range of movement and plenty of nakedly exposed flesh, so Brad simply touched it to her where convenient. John chuckled to himself as Amber fought to escape her bondage and the chilly bottle without offending the alignment of the thrusting machine. She was trying without success to twist herself up like a human pretzel. Thrusting Machine, Revisited Brad shook the bottle and felt some water moving around. He positioned it a few inches above a naked, heaving and clipped breast, smirking at her as he waited for his intention to dawn on her. "Brad," she warned, speaking through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare." He dared. Brad upended the bottle and poured about two ounces of really cold melted ice—also known as water—upon a clipped nipple. The metal hair clip promptly chilled even as the now wet nip stiffened from the chill. She gasped and shivered as gooseflesh prickled up her freckled skin. "Dammit!" she screeched. "That's cold!" "She talks too much," observed John. "I am so going to kick your ass at work tomorrow!" she thundered. Amber was pissed at Brad for inviting him to watch, but John should've been a gentleman and declined for the sake of her modesty and privacy. "You're right, man, she talks too much," Brad agreed. "Give her something else to think about." Amber watched uneasily as Brad reached for the Butterfly's control. It was vibrating directly on her clitoris and making her greedy pussy slobber like a thirsty dog. It was also keeping her sexual senses on a keen razor's edge. "Let's see how fast it'll go." Her eyes widened, alarmed. It was bad enough to have John sitting where he could freely admire her privates without so much as a by your leave, ma'am. But to have the Butterfly sped up and be forced to have a series of rafter-rattling orgasms for his obvious entertainment was too much! "No, Brad, don't!" she pleaded urgently. "Warp speed, Mr. Scott," John said, quoting a line from the third Star Trek movie. "Brad!" Amber screamed with untold alarm. He wrenched the speed dial all the way up and the Butterfly went from idle to redline in a quarter-second. Amber lurched, flexed her back, stiffened and had one helluva mind altering orgasm. The thrusting machine's motor growled in a lower pitch as her vaginal muscles clenched tight on the dancing dildo. Her taut muscles quivered and tendons stood out profoundly. Her toe joints snapped from being clenched so hard. The men watched a reddish blush appear on her face, travel down her neck and glow invitingly upon her upper chest. As the orgasm progressed, some part of Amber's mind wondered if she'd ever be able to breathe again. She heard Niagara Falls roaring in her ears, not realizing blood was flowing through them fast enough—and hard enough—to hear. Brad turned the Butterfly down to let her climax subside so she could draw a fresh breath. Amber settled back after a moment, trembling like she was locked outside in the nude. There was a sharp smell of musty sex in the air; her pussy was generating more than enough lubricant to seep out with the thrusting dildo and trickle down the cleft of her ass. "Brad," she squeaked. He turned both machines up to maximum. Amber's body became taut again as an even more massive orgasm plowed its merciless way through her being. Her beautiful face was clenched in a grimace of painful ecstasy, her head tilted back and her neck muscles and tendons standing visible through her flesh like steel cables. The Butterfly was slowed again to allow her to regain her senses. "Please, Brad," she whimpered, "no more. It's too intense!" "But you like intense." He cranked the Butterfly to full power again before she could reply. Amber hunched her body forward as she obviously tried to fight the overwhelming vibrations, but they won out after just a second. She helplessly rode another savage series of orgasmic waves tearing through her body. The speed was reduced again. Her last set of climaxes was powerful enough to rend tears from her eyes. "Please, no more," she pleaded, her voice clogged with urgent emotion. "I can't take it anymore. I need you to let me go!" "Women will say anything when they're desperate," Brad said to John. "Please, baby! Sweetie. Honey. Lover. Stud. Please. Turn it off!" "You don't sound very convincing." "It hurts!" she shouted, trying with great desperation to ignore the vibrations on her numb clit. "I'm over-stimulated, Brad, and it has started to hurt! Dammit, please turn it off!" Instead, he turned to the quietly observing John. "What d you think?" "She hasn't said the magic word yet." "Yeah, I noticed that." "Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please—" Amber began with great, eager and humble earnestness. "Not that magic word," John reminded her. She thought about what word they wanted. Then she realized it was the word she told them she's never say, but was now desperate enough to say it. "You were right, Brad, and I was wrong. Please, baby, I beg you—turn the machines off!" Smirking to himself, Brad held up the canister control; for a fearful second, Amber thought he was going to inflict another series of orgasms out of her anyway. He twisted it with his thumb, however, and it merely went click. The Butterfly became still. Amber breathed a sigh of relief as Brad also turned off the thrusting machine. "How long?" Brad inquired of his guest. John consulted his watch. Twenty-two minutes and twenty-seven seconds." "That's how long it took you to beg." He smirked. "Sure was a short `never.'" "Don't forget," John inserted, "we don't know how long she was tripping the light fantastic by herself before we arrived. I think she could've held off begging for a lot longer if we had started on her while she was fresh." "Don't you have to go home and beat your meat or something?" Amber asked snidely. "Now that just wasn't very nice." He turned to her fiancée. "Once more around the galaxy might change her tune." Brad nodded and reached for the controls; the Butterfly was still strapped in place and the thrusting machine's dildo was still lodged in her overwrought orifice. "No!" Amber screeched with alarm, not wanting any more forced orgasms inflicted on her. She'd had enough to last her three months! "No, please, John, I'm sorry! I'm a miserable bitch for saying such a horrid thing to a nice guy like you!" The men chuckled. "My darling learns quickly," observed Brad with pride. "You will never be a miserable bitch, sweetie," John corrected her as he stood, making no effort to hid the lump in the front of his pants. "You two have fun. I can just imagine your pussy hasn't earned its rest yet, Amber." He took one last moment to admire her bound, freckled and naked goodness, nodding to himself. Amber blushed and silently considered herself fortunate that John was too much the old-school fuddy to have a cellphone with a built-in camera. She knew he had a collection of over six hundred Internet-sourced pictures of redhead women on his computer's Webshots display; she didn't want him flogging his log to a few cellphone shits of her in naked bondage! If he had such pictures, every time he smiled at her at work would cause her to blush a deep crimson with embarrassment! Brad escorted him out and locked the door behind him. Then he returned to the bedroom, stripped naked, removed the thrusting machine's dildo from her battered beaver before climbing between her bound-spread legs. Amber didn't really want to fuck since she was quite sore—and probably would be for days—but she knew he would be a lot gentler than the machines ever could be. He slipped in with no effort and moved with a gentle rhythm. Amber winced and twitched every now and then, but she wasn't going to ask him to stop. He wouldn't in the first place and, more importantly, it felt good in a strange kind of way to provide for his needs despite her soreness. Brad climaxed quickly, rested atop her for a minute or two before climbing off and releasing her. The next day, Brad replaced the cheap lock assembly on the thrusting machine with a reproduction ignition switch for an early 1960s Ford Falcon. He had the security of a keyed lock again and he knew it would be much tougher to defeat. But he did not have to worry— Amber had learned her lesson. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Copyright © 2009 by the author John W. Adams, Jr. All rights reserved. Thrusts of Power Alicia rested her vibrator on the bedside table, it had barely been an earth moving orgasm, but it would have to do. Should really get new batteries she thought to herself. She had needed release, especially after walking in on her boss and his secretary going at it bent over his desk. It made her so hot, so wet like the storm that had raged only an hour earlier. Alicia flicked the lamp switch again, power was still out, at least there was some light from the moon shining through the pail curtains. She went over to the door that led onto the deck and flung it open leaving only the screen door. The breeze was refreshing and cooler than it had been earlier, at least now she may be able to sleep. She lay back on and within minutes had drifted off. Alicia woke with a start, not entirely sure what had disturbed her slumbers. Again she flicked the light switch, power still out. It was still dark outside so she rolled over in an effort to get more sleep. Again she jumped at a sound, this time she was certain she’d heard it. Rolling back onto her back she looked towards the door. Silhouetted against the curtains was the figure of a man. She tried to scream, but could make no sound, her mouth open but nothing coming out. She was frozen, almost paralysed with fear. The figure opened the door and stepped in side. Again she tried to move but couldn’t, she was stricken with fear she could barely remember to breath. Maybe, just maybe if she stayed still he’d not know she was there and just leave, or steal what he came for and go. Thunder began to rumble outside and the room was lit up by lightening as another storm moved in. Suddenly a flashlight shining directly into her eyes blinded her. “I’ve been watching you,” he hissed. Tears started to roll down her cheeks, her eyes trying desperately to focus on his face. She could just barely make out his eyes, the rest of his face covered by a ski mask. Her fear turned to anger, how dare he invade her home. The anger gave her a new energy. Alicia sat up and took a swing at his head, but he was ready for her and caught her by the wrist. She swung a leg and kicked him on the back of his legs, making his knees buckle. He caught himself and grabbed her other wrist pinning her hands above her head and resting his knee on her squirming body. She began to scream. “Oohhh feisty one aren’t we? I see you’re not going to make this easy for me are you?” he asked as he removed a set of handcuffs from his pocket. “Scream all you want sugar, with this storm, no one’s going to hear you” He snapped a cuff around her left wrist; thread it around the metal of her bed head before cuffing her right wrist. With her hands secured he got off her. She writhed around on the bed trying in vain to break through. “You bastard,” she yelled. He just smirked at her “you’ve got spunk I’ll give you that” He began to pull something else from his pockets, wrapped them around her ankles and tied her feet to the end of the bed. She was no stretched out spread-eagled. “Now it’s time for fun” he smirked at her. He reached out his hand and slid it over her nightie, over the curve of her breast, down over her stomach to legs. “Don’t you touch me!” she spat, trying again to free herself from her restraints. He ignored her and slid his hands under her nightie pushing it up over her thighs. The lightening lit up the room again, revealing the black thong that barely covered her mound. He grabbed the silky material of her gown and ripped it off her body, he could make out the curve of her breasts and her pointed nipples. He ran a finger gently round her left nipple then pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, tugging at it. She gasped at his touch. Alicia knew she didn’t want this but at the same time her body was beginning to betray her, she was still hot and wet from using “Mr Buzzy” and more than anything she wanted a cock inside her, but not his, not this way. Again she struggled under his touch, “get the fuck away from me” “No Sugar you and are going to have fun and you ARE going to enjoy it,” he replied. He slid his hand down to the top of her thong and ripped it from her body as his lips locked around her nipple, and began to suck. His finger slipped down to her little bud and started working back and forward, as his mouth continued its assault on her breast. He bit down on her nipple as his finger dipped between the folds of her slit. “You’re ready for me now aren’t you sugar? You were wet when I got her weren’t you? Hot and horny and all alone, just as well I turned up, I’m going to make you feel so much better” His finger worked further down her slit and slipped easily into her pussy. He worked it back and forward as his thumb rubbed against her clit. A moan escaped her lips, and her hips began moving against his hand unconsciously. She let out a cry when he pulled his finger from her. He unzipped his pants and dropped them, and ran the head of his cock along her slit. Again the lightening lit up the room and again she was frightened, but this time for a different reason. She could make out his cock, it wasn’t long so much, but it was wide, the widest she had ever seen. She was turned on and wanted relief but his cock looked as if it would rip her in half, like it would never fit. “NO” she yelled, “I can’t take you, I can’t!” tears once again rolling down her cheeks. “You’ll be fine Sugar” he said in an almost soothing voice. Alicia closed her eyes tightly and began to prey softly as he continued to rub the engorged head along her swollen wet slit. He slipped the head between the lips and into her pussy, then slowly entered her. His shaft filling her, stretching her. They both moaned as his cock buried completely inside her and his balls, met her arse. He didn’t move for a minute, just letting her get used to his girth as he kissed her nipples, squeezing her breasts in his hands. He kissed her neck, her cheek, licked her ear, then kissed her cheek again before his lips finally met hers. The kiss was soft at first but then became more forceful, more needing. His tongue parted her lips, assaulted her mouth, yet she began to respond. She kissed him back and started to move her hips against him. He pulled his cock from her and slowly entered her again, moaning into each other’s mouths. He pulled his cock from her again then grunted as he slammed it into her hard. The force of his thrust making her whole body move up the bed, her breasts wobbling like jello. He continued to slam into her, her moans filling the silence between thunderclaps. “ooohhhhh God” she cried The stranger grunted as he continued to thrust into her “you like that sugar?” he panted. “Yes, ohhhhh yes,” she replied “Tell Me,” he said “tell me you like it, tell me you want it” “Yes I want it, I like it and I oooohhhhhh want it” she moaned. “What do you want? Tell me what you want” “ Fuck me,” she almost yelled, “I want you to fuck me” “ Your wish is my command” he said pulling out of her. He frantically untied her and turned her onto her stomach, her hands still cuffed she grabbed onto the frame of the bed and pulled herself onto her knees. He ran his hands down her back over her hips around her shapely arse. He grabbed his cock and ran the head down the crack of arse, to her pussy. He lined up his cock and slammed it into, both of them moaning loudly, as the power came back on and the room was lit up. He looked down and watched as his cock slide in and out of her with every thrust. He leant forward and nipped at her back with his teeth, with his left hand her squeezed her nipple, his right and starting to frig back and forth on her clit. His hips bucked faster and faster. She could feel his balls slap against her, every little slap sent a little shock through her as she felt orgasm build up and explode through her body. Her pussy clamped down around his cock, he thrust one hard thrust into convulsing pussy and sprayed the walls of it with his cum. He collapsed on top of her, his cock sliding from her. Panting in her ear he whispered “thankyou sugar” And reached into his jacket pocket, retrieving the key to the cuffs. Releasing her before pulling his pants up and fastening them. She remained face down completely spent, just trying to catch her breath. She turned her head just in time to see him leave through the patio door, and hear him say “ I’ll be back for that arse!” with that, she promptly fell asleep.