HisFlyinFingers
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Aug 9, 2005
- Messages
- 163
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Part One, Part Two
As I sat in the dark dungeon, confused and horny and completely helpless, I had to wonder whether I’d let Jenn lead me too far this time. My eyes wandered from one devious contraption to another, furniture I’d only ever seen pictures of or read stories about. The thought of being locked into one of them filled me with both lust and dread. I squirmed in my restraints. ‘Too late to back out now,’ I thought, as the door opened.
Jenn had a mischievous smile on her lips when I arrived at her place. That smile nearly always preceded a surprise tickle attack, so when I threw my arms around her neck and kissed her, I was a little disappointed not to feel her fingers climb up my exposed sides.
“What are you doing this weekend?” she asked, in a singsong voice that told me she was up to absolutely no good.
“I’m free,” I replied. “Did you have something planned?”
“Sort of,” she said. “I got a message from a friend—well, two friends—who wanted to know if I’d be able to … come over. On Saturday.” She was stumbling over her words, which told me she was embarrassed about something.
“Um, that sounds fine. Who is this?”
She sighed. “Tim and Liz. I met them at a … gathering. About two years ago.” She hesitated before letting the next part out. “We—all four of us, I mean, you too—share some of the same … interests.”
I got the picture. This wouldn’t exactly be a tea party. “That … could be a lot of fun,” I said. Famous last words, right?
Tim and Liz Miller had an absolutely gorgeous house. On a hill, and surrounded by rolling, perfectly manicured lawns, it was four stories of obscenely pretty grey stucco. I don’t know what either of them did for a living, but it apparently paid well. Just the pool was probably worth more than my house.
I followed Jenn to the back of the house, where the Millers were lounging around said pool. Tim was doing something with the grill, cleaning it I guess, in preparation for dinner. He looked to be about six feet tall, with a very athletic build, a deep tan, and thinning brown hair. He wore swim trunks, flip-flops, prescription sunglasses (with one of those strings around the back so they wouldn’t fall off), and a diving watch, but no shirt. His wife was reading a book on a lounge chair. She had on a black bikini that showed off her own tanned, curvy body. She also had perfectly feathered blond hair and a French manicure and pedicure. In short, they looked like the classic “Star Quarterback and Head Cheerleader” couple, about fifteen years later.
Both of them dropped what they were doing when we came into view. “Jenn! So good to see you again,” Tim said. They each gave her a big hug.
“And I bet this is Becca,” Liz said. “You’re even prettier than Jenn described!” I had to blush at that.
“Well, come on inside and get changed,” Tim said. “The water’s perfect today!”
They ushered us up a set of stairs onto a balcony, and then into what must have been the master bedroom. The inside was every bit as extravagant as the outside. When they left us alone to change, Jenn pulled me close and kissed me hard.
“What was that for?” I asked with a smile.
“I’m just so happy you’re here,” she said. “Come on, strip for me. I want to go swimming!”
We each changed into our suits—mine a plain blue bikini, Jenn’s a multicolored, striped one that she looked amazing in—and went back down to the pool. Tim and Liz joined us in the water, though Liz was careful to avoid getting her hair wet. All four of us were joking around and enjoying ourselves. It started to feel like I’d known these people for a lot longer than the hour or so it’d actually been. They were super nice to us, and for a while I totally forgot the real reason for our visit. That is, until Jenn wrapped her arms around me and dug her fingers into my sides. I splashed and squealed. Liz looked at us with a wicked grin.
“If you girls are ready to play, the door’s unlocked,” she said.
Tim checked his watch. “I think we should be getting ready for that, too.”
Jenn took my hand and pulled me out of the pool. We each grabbed a towel, but she was rushing me toward the house before I’d had a chance to actually use mine. Rather than going up the stairs again, she led me to a nondescript door, painted the same color as the stucco. Inside we found a dark hallway, the floor a dark hardwood and the walls and ceiling painted black. Jenn went into the first door, and I followed.
It was a small bathroom, with all the associated fixtures plus a big metal cabinet. Jenn and I quickly washed the chlorine out of our hair in the shower, and dried off with the towels we’d brought and with a hair dryer that lay next to the sink. As I was drying my hair, I glanced in the mirror and saw Jenn open the cabinet. I almost dropped the hair dryer.
The cabinet contained every manner of leather, latex, chain, and rope you could imagine. Cuffs and gags and clamps and whips. And a few things I couldn’t name. It made sense, I guess—if you were rich and loved bondage, you’d have a cabinet like this too. But it made the whole idea of being here hit home for me, and suddenly I felt flushed and warm all over.
Jenn was browsing through the cabinet, occasionally pulling something out to look at it and then putting it back. She looked giddy. By the time I joined her, she’d apparently found something.
“Take your top off,” she ordered. I hesitated; she’d gone from zero to dominatrix so fast my head was spinning. But I did as she asked, hanging my top on the shower rod and returning to her. “Turn around. Hands behind your back.” I obeyed, crossing my wrists as I spun. “Not crossed. Side-by-side.”
I was able to watch in the mirror as she slid what looked like a sheet of leather between my arms and my back. It had two long straps on top, and a series of shorter straps along the side. The longer straps she pulled around my shoulders and connected behind my neck, carefully lifting my hair so she could fasten them without catching anything. I couldn’t figure out what it was until she started fastening the shorter straps—it was an armbinder. She gently pushed my elbows together and secured each strap, from the top to the bottom. The whole thing was tight, but the pressure was evenly distributed across my arms, so it didn’t pinch or hurt. At the bottom were two flaps that zipped together, forming a sort of mitten for both my hands.
There was a knock on the door. “Are you girls decent?” Liz called from the other side.
“Not in the slightest!” Jenn called back with a laugh.
Liz came in, quickly closing the door behind her. She had changed into a pair of lacy black underwear that hugged her hips, with no bra. Her breasts were large, and firmer than I might’ve expected. I also noticed she didn’t have any tan lines.
“Oh, that is just perfect for her,” Liz said, checking the armbinder. “And every strap on the last hole. God, I wish I were still as tiny as you girls.” Having both of them fawn over me was embarrassing, but it also felt nice.
“Only one thing missing,” she added. She reached into the closet, flipping past a few items before selecting a pair of thick leather cuffs, connected by a thin, one-foot chain.
“Yes!” Jenn said, taking the cuffs from Liz. “That is exactly what she needs.” I tried to give Liz a nonchalant look, as if this sort of thing happened to me all the time, but it was hard to look her in the eye. So instead, I looked at my feet as Jenn securely locked them together.
“I think Tim is just about ready in the next room. Should I take her in?” Liz asked.
“Sure. Any idea what he’s got in store for us?” Jenn said.
“Nope,” Liz said. “And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t spoil it.”
Jenn gave me a passionate kiss that left me gasping, then waved good-bye. Liz led me out into the hallway, then into the next door.
It was a dungeon. I mean, that’s the only word for it. The color scheme of dark wood and black everything else carried in here, as well. Black curtains hung from the walls. Every piece of furniture appeared expressly designed to restrain and/or torment. Well, all except for the plain wooden chair against one wall of the room. Liz led me there and gestured for me to sit.
She knelt in front of me and held my chin in one hand, so we were face-to-face. “OK, Becca. How are you feeling so far?”
I smiled nervously. “Um, I’m a little anxious. But mostly good.”
She smiled back. “That’s normal. I know this can be overwhelming, so we’re not really going to push you. Mostly, you’re going to be watching what happens to Jenn. Still, I want to go over a couple of things before we start.”
I hadn’t really put together that Jenn would be the submissive here; I’d only ever seen her with me, where she could be so dominant. The thought of seeing her tied up was exciting. I nodded for Liz to continue.
“Most important, if you need us to stop, for any reason and at any time, just say the word ‘red.’ What word do you say?”
“Red,” I replied. I’d never had a safeword before.
“Good. Now, Jenn’s given us some ideas about what you like, but I wanted to ask you—is there anything you might like or dislike, that she might not know about?”
I thought about everything we’d done together, and how it had all been great. Then I remembered Tim. “I, um … I’ve never been with … a guy.”
Liz smiled again. “Would you prefer Tim not touch you?”
I wasn’t sure what the right answer was. I nodded.
“That’s fine. He’ll be heartbroken, but he’s already the luckiest man on earth, so he can deal with it. That means you’ll be all mine—is that OK?” I smiled and nodded again. “Great. We’re going to have a lot of fun. And like I said, we’ll be going very light at first. But if there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable or you don’t like, just say so.”
“OK,” I said.
“You sit tight for a second, while I go make sure my husband and your girlfriend are ready.”
I watched her walk out of the room, swaying her hips, looking like the definition of sexuality. I tried to imagine her at my age; exactly the sort of girl I would’ve worshipped from afar, but never gotten up the nerve to talk to. I twisted my shoulders, confirming that I had absolutely no way of escaping the armbinder. Knowing she’d be coming back to tease me out of my mind was almost unbearably hot.
I glanced around the room, but that didn’t help to take my mind off my predicament. I saw stocks, a spanking bench, a padded table with all sorts of loops and hooks and anchor points along the sides. There were a few things I’d never seen before, like a system of chains against one wall that looked like a spider web. My mind raced, thinking of each device and how it might feel to be totally helpless on it.
Liz returned, followed by Jenn and Tim. Or, more specifically, Tim carrying Jenn, who was slung over his shoulder. Her swimsuit was gone, her hands were locked behind her back in black mittens, and her feet were cuffed together. When he turned, I saw that there was a bag over her head. It should have been terrifying to see, but part of me knew that she was smiling underneath.
Liz pulled me to my feet, then sat in the chair and pulled me into her lap. She hugged me close, her body warm and smooth against mine. She was—not surprisingly—a lot stronger than me or Jenn, and I knew that even without the restraints she could’ve manhandled (or womanhandled?) me any way she wanted. Also no longer surprising was how horny that thought made me. My feet couldn’t quite reach the floor; so I had no leverage to squirm away. She held one arm around my waist, and the fingers on her other hand snaked into my hair, right near the scalp, and clasped tight. She wasn’t pulling my hair, just using it to hold my head in place. Forcing me to watch what Tim did to Jenn.
He had changed into a pair of black slacks, but remained shirtless. She, of course, was completely naked. Her restraints were simply clipped together, and he unclipped the cuffs on her ankles before lowering her to her feet and helping her stand up straight. His hands on her shoulders, he carefully guided her toward one of the devices I hadn’t seen before.
It was simply two columns, running floor to ceiling, with small rings up and down each. Two thick chains ran horizontally between the columns: one maybe six inches off the ground, the other about five feet. Tim backed Jenn toward the center of these chains. He lifted her hood slightly—I caught a glimpse of a collar—then clipped the collar to the higher chain. He walked around behind her, unclasped the mitts on her hands, then spread them to either side and clipped them to the chain. She tugged on the mitts instinctively, but they barely moved at all. Next he spread her legs in a similar fashion, clipping her ankles to the furthest chain links she could reach. He stepped back to look at her, then adjusted her feet, clipping them even further apart. She grunted; it was a muffled, distant sound. Now she was standing on tiptoe, her leg muscles straining to keep her balance.
His eyes studied her through his wire-rim glasses. He seemed to be concentrating, like he was looking at a science project. I tried to imagine what was going through Jenn’s head—she was probably smoldering, wondering when he would start and hoping he wouldn’t make her wait.
He started slowly, at her forearms, just two fingers wriggling over her skin. I could see the muscles in her arms flexing as she tried and failed to pull away. She gave another muffled grunt as his fingers inched down her arms, coming closer to the center and closer to her open underarms. Faint giggles came from under the hood. She threw her head back and twisted her torso, which had the effect of making her breasts jiggle but didn’t help her avoid the tickling. His hands reached her armpits, and she shrieked and thrashed.
Exciting as this scene was, it was gradually becoming more difficult to watch, as a growing distraction pulled my attention toward my stomach. Liz’s long nails were gliding lazily over my exposed skin, teasing under my ribs, around my navel, across the top of my bikini. She picked up the pace, spidering all five fingers up my right side. I was able to stifle my laughter at first, but when she teased the undersides of my breasts, it came out in a squeal. When her fingers danced back down my left side and then skipped to my inner thighs, I knew I was toast. I couldn’t fight the tickling or the arousal, both were washing over me at a rate I couldn’t control.
As her fingers wriggled between my legs, her hand brushed against my bikini. I moaned involuntarily. She tickled down to my knees, then back up, touching me again. I moaned again; that momentary contact felt so good, I couldn’t help it.
She pulled my hair back and whispered in my ear: “You dirty little thing. Do you like watching your girlfriend get tortured?”
“Uh huh.” I glanced at Jenn; his fingers were digging into her hips, and she was bucking helplessly and laughing under her hood.
“Do you know what I do to dirty little girls like you?”
She was being so blunt, so direct; it made me speechless. I managed to shake my head.
Before I could react, she had flipped me over, so I was lying on my stomach across her lap. She yanked my bikini down around my knees, then dug into the backs of my thighs with one hand and my ribs with the other. I tossed and writhed in her lap, my hair whipping around my face and my feet kicking. I felt off-balance, like I was falling, but instead of ever hitting the ground I just hung there, electric jolts of tickling coursing through me.
Her arm wrapped around my waist, and her hand pressed between my legs. She wasn’t rubbing or tickling, just holding her hand in place. Whenever I squirmed, I pressed against it.
“Oh Tim?” Liz called. “Our dear Becca is soaking wet. And look at this perfect little ass she was trying to hide from us!” Being talked about that way, and knowing that their eyes were on me, should probably have been humiliating. Instead, I was so turned on I couldn’t lie still.
“That is gorgeous,” he said. “But I don’t know if it’s perfect. Maybe if it were a nice shade of pink.”
“Now there’s an idea. Becca, have you ever been spanked before?” I shook my head. “Would you like me to spank you?”
Under very different circumstances, I might’ve said ‘why yes, Liz, having you spank my bare ass while I writhe bound and helpless in your lap would fulfill a deeply erotic fantasy that I’ve never admitted to anyone; please spank me!’ But all I managed was a whimper and a nod of my head.
“Hang on, I’m sure Jenn would want to see this,” Tim said, pulling the bag off her head. Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were half-closed and teary. A big red ballgag was pressed between her teeth, pulling at the corners of her mouth. A thin trickle of drool ran down from her bottom lip to her chin. It was, I have to admit, not the cutest she’d ever looked.
“Your horny little girlfriend’s going to get her first spanking!” Liz announced. I wanted to hide, to shrink away so no one could see my arousal. But then Jenn and I locked eyes, and the look she gave me burned like nothing I’d ever seen. She wanted me so bad in that moment, I think she would’ve broken the chains if she could. She wanted to kiss me, to hold me, to touch me until we were both satisfied. The look would’ve been scary, if it weren’t so intensely sexy.
So transfixed was I by that look, that I didn’t see the first smack coming. I cried out as Liz’s hand made contact with first my right cheek, then the left. I instinctively tried to wriggle away from the pain, but the hand between my legs pressed in tighter, intensifying the pleasure. I whimpered and moaned as her fingers slipped into my folds. Each swat of her hand sent a shock through my body that traveled between my thighs and spiraled out through the rest of me. A crash of pain, followed by rivulets and eddies of almost unbearable pleasure.
I glanced back toward Jenn for support, but Tim’s fingers were scrabbling under her soles. She was hopping from one foot to the other, but she couldn’t get away from his touch. I knew how sensitive her feet were, how intolerable it must’ve felt, but also how turned on she must’ve been. That thought pushed me over the edge. My whole body shuddered and I came.
Before I’d even had time to catch my breath, Liz was standing, dragging me away from the chair and toward my girlfriend. Liz placed me kneeling at Jenn’s feet, and pushed my face between Jenn’s legs. Her thighs trembled against my cheeks; her whole body was shaking. The tickling on her feet made her last longer than she might’ve ordinarily, but it still took only a minute before she cried out, her body spasming in rhythm to the motion of my tongue.
Dinner was delicious. Jenn and I, freshly showered but still somewhat starry-eyed from the afternoon, mostly ignored the Millers’ small talk, instead staring at our food or at each other. I had to eat standing up, to my extreme embarrassment, but every other part of me felt so good I didn’t even mind.
“Should I take it from the looks on your faces that you two will be joining us again?” Tim asked.
I blushed and smiled. Jenn spoke for me: “Yes. As soon as possible.”
As I sat in the dark dungeon, confused and horny and completely helpless, I had to wonder whether I’d let Jenn lead me too far this time. My eyes wandered from one devious contraption to another, furniture I’d only ever seen pictures of or read stories about. The thought of being locked into one of them filled me with both lust and dread. I squirmed in my restraints. ‘Too late to back out now,’ I thought, as the door opened.
Jenn had a mischievous smile on her lips when I arrived at her place. That smile nearly always preceded a surprise tickle attack, so when I threw my arms around her neck and kissed her, I was a little disappointed not to feel her fingers climb up my exposed sides.
“What are you doing this weekend?” she asked, in a singsong voice that told me she was up to absolutely no good.
“I’m free,” I replied. “Did you have something planned?”
“Sort of,” she said. “I got a message from a friend—well, two friends—who wanted to know if I’d be able to … come over. On Saturday.” She was stumbling over her words, which told me she was embarrassed about something.
“Um, that sounds fine. Who is this?”
She sighed. “Tim and Liz. I met them at a … gathering. About two years ago.” She hesitated before letting the next part out. “We—all four of us, I mean, you too—share some of the same … interests.”
I got the picture. This wouldn’t exactly be a tea party. “That … could be a lot of fun,” I said. Famous last words, right?
Tim and Liz Miller had an absolutely gorgeous house. On a hill, and surrounded by rolling, perfectly manicured lawns, it was four stories of obscenely pretty grey stucco. I don’t know what either of them did for a living, but it apparently paid well. Just the pool was probably worth more than my house.
I followed Jenn to the back of the house, where the Millers were lounging around said pool. Tim was doing something with the grill, cleaning it I guess, in preparation for dinner. He looked to be about six feet tall, with a very athletic build, a deep tan, and thinning brown hair. He wore swim trunks, flip-flops, prescription sunglasses (with one of those strings around the back so they wouldn’t fall off), and a diving watch, but no shirt. His wife was reading a book on a lounge chair. She had on a black bikini that showed off her own tanned, curvy body. She also had perfectly feathered blond hair and a French manicure and pedicure. In short, they looked like the classic “Star Quarterback and Head Cheerleader” couple, about fifteen years later.
Both of them dropped what they were doing when we came into view. “Jenn! So good to see you again,” Tim said. They each gave her a big hug.
“And I bet this is Becca,” Liz said. “You’re even prettier than Jenn described!” I had to blush at that.
“Well, come on inside and get changed,” Tim said. “The water’s perfect today!”
They ushered us up a set of stairs onto a balcony, and then into what must have been the master bedroom. The inside was every bit as extravagant as the outside. When they left us alone to change, Jenn pulled me close and kissed me hard.
“What was that for?” I asked with a smile.
“I’m just so happy you’re here,” she said. “Come on, strip for me. I want to go swimming!”
We each changed into our suits—mine a plain blue bikini, Jenn’s a multicolored, striped one that she looked amazing in—and went back down to the pool. Tim and Liz joined us in the water, though Liz was careful to avoid getting her hair wet. All four of us were joking around and enjoying ourselves. It started to feel like I’d known these people for a lot longer than the hour or so it’d actually been. They were super nice to us, and for a while I totally forgot the real reason for our visit. That is, until Jenn wrapped her arms around me and dug her fingers into my sides. I splashed and squealed. Liz looked at us with a wicked grin.
“If you girls are ready to play, the door’s unlocked,” she said.
Tim checked his watch. “I think we should be getting ready for that, too.”
Jenn took my hand and pulled me out of the pool. We each grabbed a towel, but she was rushing me toward the house before I’d had a chance to actually use mine. Rather than going up the stairs again, she led me to a nondescript door, painted the same color as the stucco. Inside we found a dark hallway, the floor a dark hardwood and the walls and ceiling painted black. Jenn went into the first door, and I followed.
It was a small bathroom, with all the associated fixtures plus a big metal cabinet. Jenn and I quickly washed the chlorine out of our hair in the shower, and dried off with the towels we’d brought and with a hair dryer that lay next to the sink. As I was drying my hair, I glanced in the mirror and saw Jenn open the cabinet. I almost dropped the hair dryer.
The cabinet contained every manner of leather, latex, chain, and rope you could imagine. Cuffs and gags and clamps and whips. And a few things I couldn’t name. It made sense, I guess—if you were rich and loved bondage, you’d have a cabinet like this too. But it made the whole idea of being here hit home for me, and suddenly I felt flushed and warm all over.
Jenn was browsing through the cabinet, occasionally pulling something out to look at it and then putting it back. She looked giddy. By the time I joined her, she’d apparently found something.
“Take your top off,” she ordered. I hesitated; she’d gone from zero to dominatrix so fast my head was spinning. But I did as she asked, hanging my top on the shower rod and returning to her. “Turn around. Hands behind your back.” I obeyed, crossing my wrists as I spun. “Not crossed. Side-by-side.”
I was able to watch in the mirror as she slid what looked like a sheet of leather between my arms and my back. It had two long straps on top, and a series of shorter straps along the side. The longer straps she pulled around my shoulders and connected behind my neck, carefully lifting my hair so she could fasten them without catching anything. I couldn’t figure out what it was until she started fastening the shorter straps—it was an armbinder. She gently pushed my elbows together and secured each strap, from the top to the bottom. The whole thing was tight, but the pressure was evenly distributed across my arms, so it didn’t pinch or hurt. At the bottom were two flaps that zipped together, forming a sort of mitten for both my hands.
There was a knock on the door. “Are you girls decent?” Liz called from the other side.
“Not in the slightest!” Jenn called back with a laugh.
Liz came in, quickly closing the door behind her. She had changed into a pair of lacy black underwear that hugged her hips, with no bra. Her breasts were large, and firmer than I might’ve expected. I also noticed she didn’t have any tan lines.
“Oh, that is just perfect for her,” Liz said, checking the armbinder. “And every strap on the last hole. God, I wish I were still as tiny as you girls.” Having both of them fawn over me was embarrassing, but it also felt nice.
“Only one thing missing,” she added. She reached into the closet, flipping past a few items before selecting a pair of thick leather cuffs, connected by a thin, one-foot chain.
“Yes!” Jenn said, taking the cuffs from Liz. “That is exactly what she needs.” I tried to give Liz a nonchalant look, as if this sort of thing happened to me all the time, but it was hard to look her in the eye. So instead, I looked at my feet as Jenn securely locked them together.
“I think Tim is just about ready in the next room. Should I take her in?” Liz asked.
“Sure. Any idea what he’s got in store for us?” Jenn said.
“Nope,” Liz said. “And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t spoil it.”
Jenn gave me a passionate kiss that left me gasping, then waved good-bye. Liz led me out into the hallway, then into the next door.
It was a dungeon. I mean, that’s the only word for it. The color scheme of dark wood and black everything else carried in here, as well. Black curtains hung from the walls. Every piece of furniture appeared expressly designed to restrain and/or torment. Well, all except for the plain wooden chair against one wall of the room. Liz led me there and gestured for me to sit.
She knelt in front of me and held my chin in one hand, so we were face-to-face. “OK, Becca. How are you feeling so far?”
I smiled nervously. “Um, I’m a little anxious. But mostly good.”
She smiled back. “That’s normal. I know this can be overwhelming, so we’re not really going to push you. Mostly, you’re going to be watching what happens to Jenn. Still, I want to go over a couple of things before we start.”
I hadn’t really put together that Jenn would be the submissive here; I’d only ever seen her with me, where she could be so dominant. The thought of seeing her tied up was exciting. I nodded for Liz to continue.
“Most important, if you need us to stop, for any reason and at any time, just say the word ‘red.’ What word do you say?”
“Red,” I replied. I’d never had a safeword before.
“Good. Now, Jenn’s given us some ideas about what you like, but I wanted to ask you—is there anything you might like or dislike, that she might not know about?”
I thought about everything we’d done together, and how it had all been great. Then I remembered Tim. “I, um … I’ve never been with … a guy.”
Liz smiled again. “Would you prefer Tim not touch you?”
I wasn’t sure what the right answer was. I nodded.
“That’s fine. He’ll be heartbroken, but he’s already the luckiest man on earth, so he can deal with it. That means you’ll be all mine—is that OK?” I smiled and nodded again. “Great. We’re going to have a lot of fun. And like I said, we’ll be going very light at first. But if there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable or you don’t like, just say so.”
“OK,” I said.
“You sit tight for a second, while I go make sure my husband and your girlfriend are ready.”
I watched her walk out of the room, swaying her hips, looking like the definition of sexuality. I tried to imagine her at my age; exactly the sort of girl I would’ve worshipped from afar, but never gotten up the nerve to talk to. I twisted my shoulders, confirming that I had absolutely no way of escaping the armbinder. Knowing she’d be coming back to tease me out of my mind was almost unbearably hot.
I glanced around the room, but that didn’t help to take my mind off my predicament. I saw stocks, a spanking bench, a padded table with all sorts of loops and hooks and anchor points along the sides. There were a few things I’d never seen before, like a system of chains against one wall that looked like a spider web. My mind raced, thinking of each device and how it might feel to be totally helpless on it.
Liz returned, followed by Jenn and Tim. Or, more specifically, Tim carrying Jenn, who was slung over his shoulder. Her swimsuit was gone, her hands were locked behind her back in black mittens, and her feet were cuffed together. When he turned, I saw that there was a bag over her head. It should have been terrifying to see, but part of me knew that she was smiling underneath.
Liz pulled me to my feet, then sat in the chair and pulled me into her lap. She hugged me close, her body warm and smooth against mine. She was—not surprisingly—a lot stronger than me or Jenn, and I knew that even without the restraints she could’ve manhandled (or womanhandled?) me any way she wanted. Also no longer surprising was how horny that thought made me. My feet couldn’t quite reach the floor; so I had no leverage to squirm away. She held one arm around my waist, and the fingers on her other hand snaked into my hair, right near the scalp, and clasped tight. She wasn’t pulling my hair, just using it to hold my head in place. Forcing me to watch what Tim did to Jenn.
He had changed into a pair of black slacks, but remained shirtless. She, of course, was completely naked. Her restraints were simply clipped together, and he unclipped the cuffs on her ankles before lowering her to her feet and helping her stand up straight. His hands on her shoulders, he carefully guided her toward one of the devices I hadn’t seen before.
It was simply two columns, running floor to ceiling, with small rings up and down each. Two thick chains ran horizontally between the columns: one maybe six inches off the ground, the other about five feet. Tim backed Jenn toward the center of these chains. He lifted her hood slightly—I caught a glimpse of a collar—then clipped the collar to the higher chain. He walked around behind her, unclasped the mitts on her hands, then spread them to either side and clipped them to the chain. She tugged on the mitts instinctively, but they barely moved at all. Next he spread her legs in a similar fashion, clipping her ankles to the furthest chain links she could reach. He stepped back to look at her, then adjusted her feet, clipping them even further apart. She grunted; it was a muffled, distant sound. Now she was standing on tiptoe, her leg muscles straining to keep her balance.
His eyes studied her through his wire-rim glasses. He seemed to be concentrating, like he was looking at a science project. I tried to imagine what was going through Jenn’s head—she was probably smoldering, wondering when he would start and hoping he wouldn’t make her wait.
He started slowly, at her forearms, just two fingers wriggling over her skin. I could see the muscles in her arms flexing as she tried and failed to pull away. She gave another muffled grunt as his fingers inched down her arms, coming closer to the center and closer to her open underarms. Faint giggles came from under the hood. She threw her head back and twisted her torso, which had the effect of making her breasts jiggle but didn’t help her avoid the tickling. His hands reached her armpits, and she shrieked and thrashed.
Exciting as this scene was, it was gradually becoming more difficult to watch, as a growing distraction pulled my attention toward my stomach. Liz’s long nails were gliding lazily over my exposed skin, teasing under my ribs, around my navel, across the top of my bikini. She picked up the pace, spidering all five fingers up my right side. I was able to stifle my laughter at first, but when she teased the undersides of my breasts, it came out in a squeal. When her fingers danced back down my left side and then skipped to my inner thighs, I knew I was toast. I couldn’t fight the tickling or the arousal, both were washing over me at a rate I couldn’t control.
As her fingers wriggled between my legs, her hand brushed against my bikini. I moaned involuntarily. She tickled down to my knees, then back up, touching me again. I moaned again; that momentary contact felt so good, I couldn’t help it.
She pulled my hair back and whispered in my ear: “You dirty little thing. Do you like watching your girlfriend get tortured?”
“Uh huh.” I glanced at Jenn; his fingers were digging into her hips, and she was bucking helplessly and laughing under her hood.
“Do you know what I do to dirty little girls like you?”
She was being so blunt, so direct; it made me speechless. I managed to shake my head.
Before I could react, she had flipped me over, so I was lying on my stomach across her lap. She yanked my bikini down around my knees, then dug into the backs of my thighs with one hand and my ribs with the other. I tossed and writhed in her lap, my hair whipping around my face and my feet kicking. I felt off-balance, like I was falling, but instead of ever hitting the ground I just hung there, electric jolts of tickling coursing through me.
Her arm wrapped around my waist, and her hand pressed between my legs. She wasn’t rubbing or tickling, just holding her hand in place. Whenever I squirmed, I pressed against it.
“Oh Tim?” Liz called. “Our dear Becca is soaking wet. And look at this perfect little ass she was trying to hide from us!” Being talked about that way, and knowing that their eyes were on me, should probably have been humiliating. Instead, I was so turned on I couldn’t lie still.
“That is gorgeous,” he said. “But I don’t know if it’s perfect. Maybe if it were a nice shade of pink.”
“Now there’s an idea. Becca, have you ever been spanked before?” I shook my head. “Would you like me to spank you?”
Under very different circumstances, I might’ve said ‘why yes, Liz, having you spank my bare ass while I writhe bound and helpless in your lap would fulfill a deeply erotic fantasy that I’ve never admitted to anyone; please spank me!’ But all I managed was a whimper and a nod of my head.
“Hang on, I’m sure Jenn would want to see this,” Tim said, pulling the bag off her head. Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were half-closed and teary. A big red ballgag was pressed between her teeth, pulling at the corners of her mouth. A thin trickle of drool ran down from her bottom lip to her chin. It was, I have to admit, not the cutest she’d ever looked.
“Your horny little girlfriend’s going to get her first spanking!” Liz announced. I wanted to hide, to shrink away so no one could see my arousal. But then Jenn and I locked eyes, and the look she gave me burned like nothing I’d ever seen. She wanted me so bad in that moment, I think she would’ve broken the chains if she could. She wanted to kiss me, to hold me, to touch me until we were both satisfied. The look would’ve been scary, if it weren’t so intensely sexy.
So transfixed was I by that look, that I didn’t see the first smack coming. I cried out as Liz’s hand made contact with first my right cheek, then the left. I instinctively tried to wriggle away from the pain, but the hand between my legs pressed in tighter, intensifying the pleasure. I whimpered and moaned as her fingers slipped into my folds. Each swat of her hand sent a shock through my body that traveled between my thighs and spiraled out through the rest of me. A crash of pain, followed by rivulets and eddies of almost unbearable pleasure.
I glanced back toward Jenn for support, but Tim’s fingers were scrabbling under her soles. She was hopping from one foot to the other, but she couldn’t get away from his touch. I knew how sensitive her feet were, how intolerable it must’ve felt, but also how turned on she must’ve been. That thought pushed me over the edge. My whole body shuddered and I came.
Before I’d even had time to catch my breath, Liz was standing, dragging me away from the chair and toward my girlfriend. Liz placed me kneeling at Jenn’s feet, and pushed my face between Jenn’s legs. Her thighs trembled against my cheeks; her whole body was shaking. The tickling on her feet made her last longer than she might’ve ordinarily, but it still took only a minute before she cried out, her body spasming in rhythm to the motion of my tongue.
Dinner was delicious. Jenn and I, freshly showered but still somewhat starry-eyed from the afternoon, mostly ignored the Millers’ small talk, instead staring at our food or at each other. I had to eat standing up, to my extreme embarrassment, but every other part of me felt so good I didn’t even mind.
“Should I take it from the looks on your faces that you two will be joining us again?” Tim asked.
I blushed and smiled. Jenn spoke for me: “Yes. As soon as possible.”
