Bondage With a Stranger

Transcript

The table was wood, solid, sturdy, immobile. The gloves were silk, black, long and sheer. The chains resting on the table were polished steel, with small clamps on each end.

The room was dark, with no windows. Only a single light shone from the ceiling overhead. It was, all in all, a dungeon, yet somehow it felt warm and inviting.

As unfamiliar as it were, it was a room where she couldn't help but feel like she belonged. A slight shiver ran through her as she ran her fingers over the top of the dark wood table where her body was about to lay. She moved her gloved hands over the set of long chains, as if caressing an object of great value.

She picked up the chains and tested each of the clamps. Another shiver ran through her as she carefully sat them back down. The clamps, like every object in the room, were soon to be used to torment her in ways she once only dreamed of.

To bring exquisite pleasure to her entire body. And slight pain. She was aware that to achieve such heightened levels of pleasure, she first needed to accept the sensations that came with it.

Accept the pain she would, eagerly. Knowing that on the other side of that sensation, an intense sensation, a divine experience of supreme pleasure awaited her body. An experience she had waited so long to achieve.

Finally, the time had come. She crawled up on the table as she had been instructed. She wore all black, a lace bra, the long gloves, and stockings that ran up her legs and crisscrossed her hips, revealing her neat shaped pussy underneath.

A perfect ensemble for what was about to come, she hoped. She remained on the table for no more than a moment when a slight sound startled her. She glanced up as the only door to the small dark room opened.

Her hand reached beneath her for the sturdiness of the table. A tremble of fear passed through her as a handsome, stern male with short brown hair and piercing eyes entered the room. He wore polished shoes, a crisp shirt, a dark grey suit that might fit in a banker's meeting.

He was no banker. The older gentleman slowly approached the table. She smiled at him, trying to ease the tension of this first moment of their meeting.

He did not return her smile. His steely gaze sent another tremble through her body. Despite knowing she was safe, she still felt vulnerable.

With that vulnerability came a deep sense of trepidation as to her decision to finally go through with this. Her eyes darted to the dark walls and the outline of the room's single door. She knew the room to be soundproof, and there was no way out other than the door from which the gentleman had entered.

The door she now knew was locked behind him. She let out a breath, trying to keep her body from shaking. She could do this.

She was certain. The rules were simple. She was to be tied down.

She would be unable to move or to call for help. There was a safe word, of course, but she had no intention of using it. She intended to surrender fully to this stranger standing before her, who was to torture and tease her body in any manner he saw fit before allowing her to experience the pleasure she so desperately craved.

The idea thrilled her to no end. She was not a submissive woman by any means. She preferred to take the lead in lovemaking, and men rarely objected when she had her way with them.

She was a skilled lover, and enjoyed the thrill of holding a man down as she took his cock between her lips, or climbed on top of him and grabbed her sensual body onto his. She always took care of her lover's needs, and never had any complaints. She knew how to take care of her own needs as well.

This was different. Her needs were part of this experience, but her needs were secondary to what was about to happen. Her lover may let her climax, or he may keep her on edge the entire night after teasing and tormenting her body.

She had no idea what he might choose, watching the older man staring at her with his steely eyes drinking in her very soul. She feared he might opt to do just that, tease her endlessly, bringing her body to an edge she might never be able to cross. The thought scared her, but also brought her immense excitement.

She'd heard about such a place where bondage fantasies could be brought to life. There were no limits to the types of erotic accountants one could experience at a place like this. When she first toured the facility, she did so merely as a voyeur, a spectator to the erotic side of life.

She truly had no intention of ever taking part in anything kinky or submissive. Then, as these things do, this changed. She found she grew bored of dating, and the men that found their way to her bedroom.

Spank me, she'd demand. Pull my hair, she'd beg. They did little often more than present a love tap on her little bottom.

She needed more. She craved more. It wasn't always the men to blame.

Society had long been scolding men for so much as glancing at a woman. Asking a woman on a date was even a thing of the past. Women were not objects to be seduced.

They were equal in every manner to men, as women should have been since the beginning of time. Yet, part of her yearned for that primal male to dominate her. To tell her what to do.

To yes, gasp, spank her and tease her and even deny her an orgasm until she begged for it. In essence, she longed to be treated like a whore. Her name was Elena.

The man who was slowly circling the table and eyeing her supine form was named George. Although she knew this not to be his real name, real names were never used in such a place. George was tall, powerful and methodic in his journey around the table, surveying his subjects like a painter admiring his muse.

His heels echoed as he stepped across the dark stone floor, his eyes never leaving her face. Elena's body quivered, her nipples hardening into diamond stones merely from his gaze. George completed his circle around the table and paused near her feet.

He picked up a dark rope and dragged it over her leg. Without a word, he took her foot into his hand. Slowly, he began to wind the rope around her ankle.

She let out a slow breath and shifted her weight back onto her hands, allowing him to do his work. George took his time. He bound one leg to the edge of the table, then the other, until her legs were spread open and unable to move.

Laying her head back, he took her wrists above her head and began to bind them in a similar manner. He took his time as he wrapped the thick rope around her wrists several times. Elena tested the strength of the bonds.

She knew once the knots were secured, there would be no way she could raise her arms or move her body. She would be completely tied down, unable to move, unable to call anyone for help. She was at the mercy of this complete stranger, exactly as she wished.

It was finally happening. She was finally going to be taken. She was going to be taken, helpless and naked on a table by a complete stranger.

Elena knew she was beautiful, and knew full well how to use her sexuality to seduce any man she chose. Tall, with dark raven hair, luscious lips, deep brown eyes that could capture the heart of any man. She didn't simply turn heads when she entered a room.

She caused men to all lose concentration while she walked by them, rendering them powerless to her beauty. This experience was not about seduction, it was about submission, and she wished to learn all there was to learn. Elena allowed George to finish binding her wrists.

He removed her bra and squeezed her breasts hard, giving a brief tease of what was to come. She stared up at the ceiling, as his hands moved over her body, over her bare breasts, over her neck, her mouth and lips. She extended her tongue, wetting his fingers with her saliva as she pushed them into her mouth.

She licked his fingers, as if she were licking his cock, that showing that she, too, was capable of providing exquisite pleasure. He withdrew his fingers and pushed her wrists above her head, then finished securing them to the table. Elena tested her bonds.

She was now completely tied down, unable to move. George moved to the end of the table near her feet. He picked up a solid steel chair and dragged it over her legs and across the inside of her thighs.

She gasped as the cold metal brushed over her pubic hair and between her lips. She arched her back, trying to force more attention to her intimate area. She yearned to be touched, but her movements had no effect on George.

He moved the chain slowly up her body towards her breasts. She bit her lip. She knew what was coming next.

The clamps. She shivered as the cold metal chain rested on her stomach, followed by the hard, cold pinch of the clamps as they were placed on her nipples. Her body writhed on the table as the blood flowed from her rock-hard nipples.

She had barely been touched, but her entire body was already on fire. He moved slowly back down between her legs. He bent his head forward and kissed her stomach, then lower, then lower.

His hands moved over her inner thighs. He gasped as his mouth found her inner lips. She had been instructed not to speak and feared any punishment that might come as a result.

For the moment, she was safe. George's tongue penetrated her lips, circling her clit in agonising, tormenting movements. Her body quivered.

She wrapped her fingers around the ropes, binding her wrists and curled her head up, straining to see what her dominant lover was doing. George's fingers were inside her, his lips and tongue on her pussy. Tasting her, teasing her, torturing her.

It was everything she dreamed of. She was loving every minute of it. Eleanor sensed her first orgasm building inside her, like a mighty river surging through her body, searching for an outlet.

She feared George would deny her this release, but he allowed her climax to flow through her, with her body unable to move at all. All she could do was continue to pleasure her until the powerful climax could wash over her, and he did. She came hard, thrusting her hips forcefully against his mouth.

Her climax subsided and George moved to her side, caressing her thighs and stomach and breasts. He bent down towards her face. Eleanor inhaled his dark, musty scent as the white stubble of his crisp beard brushed against her cheek.

She knew nothing about her lover. Nothing at all. She could only hope he was going to touch her in the way she wanted to be touched.

Staring directly into her eyes, he pushed his finger into her. She moaned and arched her back. He fingered her deeply, thrusting inside as far as she could take.

Her body tensed, her fingers and toes flexed. Another orgasm was building inside her. She ingratiated her teeth.

Would he let her come again? She wanted to push her head up and kiss him, desperately yearning to connect with this complete stranger who was bringing her to such extreme heights of passion. But she was not supposed to do so.

Just as she was not supposed to speak. But she couldn't help it. She whispered, begging George to touch her as she needed to be touched.

The moment the words escaped her lips, she feared he would stop and leave her in a frenzied state. Say it again. Say it again.

He commanded. She begged. She begged.

He smiled. Releasing her head back down, he moved back between her legs. Except he didn't return to French kissing and teased her with his mouth.

Her heart skipped as she heard a buzzing sound. She gasped as he moved a black wand over the sensitive skin of her breasts. George used the device to tease her nipples, both of which were now burning with the lack of blood from the clamps.

She had never imagined that her breasts and nipples could grow so sensitive. They stung with pain, and they stung with a yearning to be freed from the metal clamps that held them. But she knew they wouldn't be released.

Not yet. George moved the vibrator between her legs. The intense sensation nearly overwhelmed her as he thrust the wand between her lips and dragged it raggedly over her clit.

She wanted to cry out to beg him to stop, but feared if she did, he would do just that. She didn't want him to stop. Not now.

Not ever. Her body shook as George pushed the device inside her. Her legs spread.

Her ankles strained against the bonds, demanding to be set free. But that was not to happen. Eleanor was as immobile as she had been when they started.

George removed the device from inside her. He moved back to her side, then leaned down and kissed her. Without any hesitation, she kissed him back.

A smile escaped her lips. She was finally able to make the connection with her tormentors she so desperately craved. They kissed again.

Then George moved to release the binds around her wrists and her ankles. Eleanor moved her arms and legs gingerly, the circulation slowly returning to her body. Next, he removed the nipple clamps.

The sweet sting of pleasure shocked her as the blood rushed to her nipples. She moved her hands to her breasts and caressed them as she.