****** Double the Heat ******
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Synopsis: Kathy relates an interesting evening of serious bondage at the hands
of her boyfriend Angus. Written by Hal based on Kathy\'s first-hand account.
DOUBLE THE HEAT





The delicious thing about being trussed up and blindfolded by someone you know

and trust (enough but not too much!) is the suspense and anticipation.

If you're not into bondage, none of this will make any sense, but anybody who
has

ever fantasized about being rendered helpless by an imaginative lover will
understand

the tingle of excitement associated with powerless vulnerability.

One Saturday night last winter I was securely strapped and pinioned.  I was not
just

blindfolded; I was hooded.  In our bondage games Angus and I have discovered
that

regular blindfolds are inadequate.  They almost always leave a gap at the
bottom large

enough for stealing glimpses (unless they are very tight, in which case they
become

uncomfortable), and it is usually possible to dislodge the blindfold against
the carpet, a

shoulder, a bound wrist, or a bed post, as the case may be.  A hood, on the
other hand,

is secure, inescapable, and a completely effective blindfold.  If it is well
made, it is also

comfortable.

Laced, buckled and padlocked in a stout leather hood that let in no light, I
lay

immobilized on the bed wondering what Angus had planned for the evening.  I was

naked apart from the accoutrements of bondage, and the night air felt cool
against my

skin.  I had spent many hours in similar positions, hog tied, sweating inside a
rubber suit. 

I liked the feeling of total enclosure, and the way the rubber clung to my
skin.

But not tonight.  Tonight I was bound naked.  And not just bound; gagged too,
which

was unusual.  I had been most surprised (and aroused) when Angus had buckled on
a

ball-gag before putting on the hood.  Now it felt hard and big in my mouth, and
I had to

consciously relax my jaw every few minutes.  Swallowing was difficult and I was
starting

to drool.  I was glad of the hood that it at least spared me the humiliation of
looking like a

slobbering baby.





I'd been this way for at least half an hour, I reckoned, but I was still
feeling very

aroused.  If anything, the absence of rubber somehow made me more aware of the

bands of steel encircling my pelvis.  I'd been wearing the chastity belt for
three days

without a break, and my level of arousal was very high.

It wasn't a case of erotic tension increasing continually; on the contrary, I
often forgot

about the belt for an hour at a time, and sometimes it was just a mild
discomfort without

erotic appeal.  It was more a case of a steadily increasing <i>capacity</i> for
arousal. 

After three days of imprisonment of my groin it seemed that, when it came, the
fire of

desire burned fiercer than ever before.

The waistband of the heavy belt was pressing into my hip a little, and I
shifted my

weight to change the pressure point.  The belt felt like it was welded to my
skin, and I

marvelled at the rigidity it imposed on my pelvis, the incredible feeling of
entrapment.

There was nothing to do but lie still and wait.  Movement was very limited.  My
legs

were tightly cinched together at ankle and knee, and my arms were pinioned in a
V

behind my back with a series of six thick leather straps, connected together to
form a

strong harness.  For good measure my wrists were locked together and my hands
were

laced into leather mittens that compressed my fingers into tight little fists. 
No chance of

fiddling with buckles or knots.  After five years with me Angus has learned to
be

thorough.  He understands that my desire to be strapped up is followed by a
struggle to

get free -- only by discovering I am truly helpless can I resign myself to my
fate.  And

Angus gets very annoyed if I escape his bonds, so he no longer takes any
chances. 

When he straps me up he goes to extremes.  So, trussed up as I was, Angus had
also

padlocked a length of chain from the collar of the hood to the headboard, and
another

from the ankle strap to one of the bedposts.  I could squirm and wriggle, but I
wasn't

going <i>anywhere</i> without his say-so.

What, I wondered as I listened to the sound of my own breathing, was likely to

happen tonight?  If Angus is in a lazy mood he sometimes just unlocks the belt
and gives

me a hand job, leaving me hooded and trussed up.  He's done that before, and
I've

loved and hated it all at the same time.  I find it humiliating, but that
humiliation itself is

stimulating.  If he is feeling playful, he might get dressed up, undo my bonds
(but not my

belt), and indulge in an hour or two of foreplay, eventually unlocking the belt
so he can

make love to me properly.  That is the best, but sometimes I am on the way down
by the

time he gets around to making love to me, exhausted by too much desire. 
Sometimes I

feel I don't deserve such a luxury, and then a peculiar sense of shame
interferes with my

ability to achieve orgasm.  On such occasions it is better if I am just abused.





I was almost dozing off when the sound of the door startled me into alertness. 
Had I

heard the door?  I strained to listen.  Yes, he was definitely in the room.  I
heard him

moving about, heard the creak of floorboards and the chink of metal, and then
felt his

weight on the bed.  He ran a hand over my hooded head, down my shoulder, then
traced

the inside edge of one of the straps around my torso.  He leaned in close, and
I felt his

shirt against my skin.

"How ya doin', Cowgurl?" he whispered huskily, letting his hand crawl down to
my

crotch, where he tickled the insides of my thighs and tried to work a finger
under the

edge of the cold steel band wrapped around my pelvis.  I writhed a little by
way of

answer and grunted stupidly against the ball gag.

"Shame. So helplessly, hopelessly randy!" he said.  "I can see how desperately
you'd

like to be out of this predicament.  But not yet, my sweet. The night is but a
pup!"

He stood up, and I thought I could make out the sounds of clothes being
removed. 

Was he getting undressed?  My hearing muffled by the hood, it was hard to tell.

The mattress shifted as he sat down again, and I felt his bare skin against my
leg. 

He was next to me, I could feel, but I couldn't work out what part of him was
against my

legs.  His skin felt warm and smooth.  As a dyed-in-the-wool fetishist, I was

unaccustomed to feeling so aroused just by the sensation of skin against skin,
but the

feeling of his warm nakedness sent a shiver down my spine.  God, it felt good!

I felt him lying down, and realised that he must be lying the other way around,
with

his head near my legs.  I felt a tremor of excitement.  Perhaps he was going to
unlock

me and pleasure me with his tongue?

I felt his thighs at my head, and then they were so close I was able to press
against

them.  I pushed my head forward, snuggling my leather-covered face against his
legs,

worming forward as if trying to work my nose between his thighs.  I wanted to
feel him

against me.  I could make out the smell of warm skin in spite of the strong
smell of

leather from the hood.  I was in a swoon of desire, trying to press forward to
find the rest

of him, but held back by the chains that tethered me.

My momentary reverie came to an abrupt end with the realisation that something
was

being fastened around the hood.  What <i>was</i> he doing?  If felt like he was
actually

fastening a strap to my hood in order to hold my head against his thighs.  I
felt a strap

tighten, felt my forehead pressed firmly against his legs, bound there with
something that

held it in place.  It was slightly stifling, and I felt an increase in heat and
restraint.  I

wriggled and made sounds of protest, but the strap was secure.  I felt a second
strap

being applied lower down, around his thighs and the nape of my neck.  As this
was

drawn tight my face was pressed securely against his thighs and I felt myself
struggling

for air.

Now I felt hands at my waist, a hand pushing a belt between me and the mattress

and looping it around my body.  <i>My God!</i>  I suddenly realised that
<i>there had to

be a third person involved!</i>  It was not just me and Angus in the bedroom;
there was

someone else with us!





I was astonished that I couldn't work out immediately if Angus was strapping me
to

someone else, or whether a third player was strapping me and Angus together. 
But the

realisation that a third person had joined our play almost paralysed me for a
few

moments with a wild mixture of rampant desire, humiliation, confusion, and a
little fear.  I

tried to ask what was going on, but I could only grunt meaninglessly against
the gag.

Hands pushed my body against another body.  A broad strap had been looped

around both our waists.  The waist belt tightened.  I felt the other body
pressed against

my own, and a sudden wave of mad desire washed over me.  As the strap was
tightened

I felt the shock of cold hard steel being pressed against my chest, and I
realised that the

other body was, like myself, trapped in a steel chastity belt.  Angus was tying
me to

someone else; I was being bound to a <i>boy</i> chastised like myself!  And, I
realised

in the next instance, gagged like myself, for at that moment I heard someone
else's

clumsy muffled groans, the unmistakable sound of a boy protesting uselessly
against a

gag.

It was clear to me now that the boy had been arranged so that the steel penis
tube of

his chastity belt was pressed into the valley between my breasts.  I could feel
the steel

bars of the hooded tube, and I could actually feel the skin of his penis
bulging through

the bars.  Whoever he was, he was obviously as aroused as I.  I could not
resist

squirming against him, writhing and wriggling so that my face rubbed his thighs
through

the leather of the hood; so that the flesh of my breasts was massaged by his
pelvis and

by the steel tube.  The nameless boy moaned into his gag, tormented,
apparently, by the

sensation of my smooth breasts around his helplessly trapped penis.

Now I felt Angus press the boy's face into the valley between my bound thighs. 
I felt

the boy's breath and warmth as his face was strapped to the soft milky flesh of
my legs. 

The boy was also hooded, and the smooth leather felt good against my thighs.  I

wriggled as the strap was tightened, and I felt the protrusion of the boy's
nose through

the hood as it wedged between my thighs.

More straps were added -- one around my thighs and behind the boy's neck, which

jammed his face all the more firmly against my legs; two others to pin our
respective

buttocks and shoulders together.  I felt straps being checked and adjusted and

neatened.  Then I felt Angus getting off the bed and all went still and quiet.





I kept very still for a minute or two, regulating my breathing, and then
holding my

breath to try and hear what Angus was doing.  Was he still in the room?  I
could feel that

the boy was also listening, keeping still.

It was no good, I couldn't hear anything.  I gave up listening and let out my
breath.  I

tested my bonds again, straining and pulling against the straps.  It was
hopeless.  I was

as helpless as a baby, and the straps holding me and the boy together were snug
and

secure.

We were both starting to perspire very slightly where our skin was pressed
together. 

Our mutual heat was making my head spin with frustrated desire, and I wriggled
against

the unknown boy with a sudden burst of furious energy, trying to stimulate
myself

against him.  I liked the feeling of the hard steel of his chastity belt
against my breasts,

and the way his penis tube was jammed into my cleavage.  I heard him moaning
into his

gag, and I mewled back in sympathy.  If only we could talk to each other, I
thought, so

that I could ask him his name and how he came to find himself in this
predicament.

I stopped squirming after a short time.  It was hard work and made me sweat.  I
tried

to give myself over to this situation, to let the straps hold me.  But the
feeling of another

aroused body strapped to my own made it very difficult.  I felt as if my sex
was beating

with a rhythm of its own, pulsing inside its steel prison like a living thing
with its own

heartbeat.  I ground my pelvis, trying to stimulate myself, but the smooth
steel of the

chastity belt was impervious to my attempts.  I was conquered, and the feeling
was

delicious.  I stopped moving and let myself go limp, panting and whimpering
into my gag.





It did not take long for discomforts to materialize, like little creatures
emerging from

the shadows.  It was maddening not being able to pull my face away from the
boy's

thighs, and an edge of his chastity belt was starting to dig into my left
breast

uncomfortably.  I tried to shift my position, but the boy was easily as heavy
as I was and

I couldn't move against his dead weight.  I tried to signal to him with a
series of grunts

that I wanted to change position, but all we did was exchange a series of
unintelligible

noises.

And then something cold touched my bare buttocks.  I twitched and cried out in

surprise.  Angus had sneaked back in, I realised (or had been watching us all
along),

and was running a piece of ice over my bum.  I wriggled madly and complained,
but it

made no difference -- Angus continued running the ice over my cheeks,
describing

circles and figures of eight; running up my crack and then tripping off to
flirt with the

backs of my thighs.

Once I got used to the initial shock of the cold the sensation was not
unpleasant, an

enjoyable contrast to the heat which burned between me and the boy.  I felt the
ice

moving over my skin in apparently random patterns but always around my buttocks
and

thighs.  And then it suddenly veered into new territory -- up my crack again
(which made

me shiver with desire), up my side, over the hill of my ribs and down into the
hot space

between me and the boy.  Angus found a place where he could wedge the ice
between

us, and there he left it.  The boy's body jerked at the initial sensation, and
then we

squirmed at the burning cold and the gradual dripping which formed ticklish
rivulets

between us.  It was a maddening sensation.  We wriggled about to try and
dislodge the

cold hard block, but it only settled more firmly into a crevice under a strap.



We were tortured for about half an hour.  I felt Angus's hands upon me,
caressing

me, fondling me.  Mostly he was gentle but occasionally he would slap my bare
bum with

the flat of his hand, making me squirm and call out into my gag.  My muffled
cries of

protest were ignored.  The gentle probing fingers continued -- stroking my
thighs,

rubbing my cheeks, caressing my dimples and soft places.  Inevitably he began
playing

with my anus, slowly parting my cheeks to open me up, slowly working closer and
closer

to my anal passage.  The sensation was very intense and I wriggled and squirmed
like a

mad thing, panting with the effort of trying to escape his persistent fingers. 
I wanted

them in my <i>other</i> orifice, the one where I was as wet as a waterfall, but
that was

sealed shut with a tight stainless steel plate that felt all the more
frustrating and hard in

my current predicament.

I realised that someone else was tormenting the boy (or Angus was being very
active

with his two hands) because he squirmed and wriggled to his own tune.  His
hopeless

attempts to escape whatever was being done to him made his caged penis rock up
and

down between my breasts in a way that was very arousing.





And then, all of a sudden, it was over.  Everything went quiet and we were left

together for a short while.  I think we were both a bit exhausted because we
lay like limp

fish, giving ourselves over to the straps that held us together.

Then they (Angus and his co-conspirator, because I was now convinced there were

two of them) were back in the room undoing straps and buckles.  Cool air
entered the

spaces where our bodies had been pressed together, and in no time that other
body

which had felt so warm and close was gone.  Angus removed everything except the

hood and the chastity belt.  As soon as my arms were free I reached up to
explore the

hood but it was firmly padlocked and I couldn't do anything to escape the
blackness.  So

I reached down and tried to touch my throbbing sex, but my fingers found only
that

infuriating cold steel.  I rubbed the thick implacable metal shield that sealed
shut my

vagina, hoping foolishly that I might feel something, but all I did was
increase my sense

of frustration.  Then Angus was taking my hands and leading me to the spare
room

where he sat me in a straight-backed leather chair we have with a wooden seat. 
He

pulled my arms behind me and secured my hands with leather cuffs, fixing them
together

and also to the back of the chair.  Then he cuffed my ankles and chained them
back

under the chair.

As if I hadn't had enough erotic torture, he now proceeded to suck my nipples
and

rub my breasts in a way that made me moan and buck like a woman possessed. 

Fortunately he didn't keep this up for very long, and after a short break I
felt him

unlocking the collar of the hood and loosening the laces.

I blinked at the bright light when he pulled off the hood.  Much as I like it,
it was a

great relief to breathe freely and have my head unencumbered.  I shook my head
to

rearrange my hair, and Angus was good enough to smooth it back and move the
stray

strands out of my face.





I pulled at the cuffs, but Angus had done a good job.  I wasn't going
anywhere.  He

was dressed in his Docs, black leather pants and a sleeveless black T-shirt and
I felt

faintly embarrassed at my nakedness.  He had on his leather armbands and a big
belt. 

He looked so damn sexy I wanted him to throw me on my back and fuck me that
instant.

"You've gotta let me out of this chastity belt!" I said.

He laughed and squatted down in front of me.

"You think?" he said.

He leaned forward and kissed the insides of my thighs gently, running his
tongue up

my leg towards the steel trap of the chastity belt.  He nuzzled my soft flesh
and bit softly

into my skin.  It was enough to make me scream.

"Oh God I want you inside me!" I whispered.  I bucked in the chair but was
helpless

to escape his tongue.

Then he got tired of kissing my thighs and stood back against the wall, looking

annoyingly smug.  He just stood there watching me.

"Where's the boy?" I asked.

"Oh... he's gone."

"Gone?"  I was startled.  I had assumed there was more to come featuring me and

the boy.

"Yup.  It's just you and me babe."

I was surprised at my sense of disappointment.  I had thought I'd get to see
what he

looked like.

"Who is he?" I asked.

"That you shall never know."

"God, Angus, you can't do that!  I <i>must</i> know!"

He shrugged and shook his head.

"Why must you know?"

"Well of course I must!  Does he know who I am."

Angus shook his head.

"Absolutely not.  He will never be told."

"I can't believe this... Is it somebody I know?"

Angus shrugged.

"It might be, it might not be.  What does it matter?"

I looked at him in amazement.  I wasn't sure if he really wasn't going to tell
me or if

he was just messing with me.

"So... this might be someone that I might see at a club or somewhere... there
might

be this person that I say hello to that I have actually been bound against,
naked, and I

won't have any idea...?"

Angus starting grinning.

"Absolutely.  Delicious, isn't it?"

I pulled angrily against the cuffs holding me to the chair.

"No, it's not 'delicious'!  It's bloody unreasonable!  You have to tell me!"

Angus's face darkened and the grin vanished.  He pushed himself off the wall
and

moved towards the door.

"I can see you need a bit of time alone to remember your manners.  I was going
to

take off that chastity belt and let you touch yourself but I'm afraid you're
not in the right

frame of mind.  I'll be back in a couple of hours."  And with that he left the
room, closing

the door firmly but quietly behind him, and leaving me open-mouthed with pent-
up

sexual frustration that I could do absolutely nothing about.


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