Asha had been looking forward to the party for months, but by the time Steve lit the barbecue, she just wanted all their guests to leave so she could jump on him.

It wasn’t the summer sun making her smoulder in her favourite dress or the shimmering heat from the barbecue. It was the culmination of so many little things, each a droplet, that eventually formed a wave of lust that washed over her.

The easy way he laughed and conversed, his voice a rich, dark bass note made her heart thud.

The light in his eyes as he welcomed their guests at the door or told his favourite jokes. She’d heard them hundreds of times and could recite them all, but she never tired of that light or the wattage in his smile that came from the same overcharged battery of charisma.

The casual strength in each handshake, the easy grace in each hug, the deft skill of his hands as he poured drinks or flipped steaks.

And of course, there was his body, which she knew so well and which she had been aching for since the party started. His tight ass in those white pants that she’d insisted he wear, his strong chest and arms in his new shirt. As if to get her back for making him wear the pants he felt self-conscious in, Steve had unbuttoned his shirt down past his sternum. He knew that would make her hot, the devil. And by the time she saw he had undone the buttons, she was already in her dress, hem demurely calf-length, her buttons primly done to the top, and the first guests had arrived.

It was a good disguise, she had to admit, as the party wore on: she looked proper and modest on the outside, while inside was a completely different story—lustful thoughts in her head, a damp, aching need in her core. Truth be told, she felt naughty, dirty even. She had wondered if Steve might feel the same way, despite her conservative sartorial choice, and when he looked up at her after lighting their huge barbecue, she knew he did.

He smiled, and as always, it was electric. So were his eyes, of course, but the spark she saw was reserved just for her, she knew. The livewire of his lust crackled in his pupils as he gazed at her across the backyard patio, and for those few seconds, there was no one else there with them in the late summer afternoon. Asha felt a flush through her, and was grateful for the faint breeze coming off the lake. Without it, she would have worried she’d combust.

She might, anyway.

Good Lord, I want him, she thought. The heat was total, complete: centred in her pussy and radiating out all the way to her scalp, her toes, her fingertips.

And then someone called, “Hey, Master Chef!” Steve turned, and the moment was over. It hadn’t always been this way, where they had so little time alone. Early in their marriage, they had oodles of time together as they worked their way up their respective corporate ladders, spending every moment they weren’t working together, more often than not in bed. Or the shower. Or the sofa. Or the kitchen counter…

It was different now, Asha reflected as she watched Steve’s arm muscles ripple through the shimmering heat of the grill. And of course, that tantalising view of his chest. With success had come more and more networking and events like this barbecue.

The mental montage of their sexcapades as newlyweds wasn’t helping Asha cool off at all, and she decided to sneak off to the loo and relieve herself. It would only be a temporary measure—nothing but Steve’s solid cock would really satisfy—but it would be something. She excused herself and all but ran upstairs. Every step she took just reminded her how wet she was, how she had already dampened her black panties. Her erect nipples rubbed against the matching bra as she practically leaped up the stairs.

She shut and locked the door, pulled up her dress, and hopped onto the counter. Her fingers confirmed what she already knew, that her pussy was soaking, her panties sodden with her pent-up desire. She yanked the cloth aside and set upon her clit with two fingers immediately, and she groaned softly as soon as she made contact with that hard electric nub. The oxytocin and dopamine increased as her orgasm formed. This was not about arousal or lust. No, this was about dousing a fire.

So much sexual energy had built up over the course of the afternoon that it took only a few minutes for the dam to break, and Asha had to stifle a loud moan, and then a scream as her orgasm coursed through her and she writhed on the bathroom counter, overcome with euphoria. Finally somewhat relieved, she stood and put her panties in the dress back into position. She washed up and returned to the party, knowing it wouldn’t be long before she’d need to be properly satisfied.

The afternoon dragged on. And on. And Asha got hotter. And hotter. It didn’t help that Steve looked sexier as the evening progressed. His face was brighter, more energetic the more he talked to their guests. Once, she caught herself transfixed by the sinews and muscles in his forearm as he flipped steaks and sausages and daydreamed about him using those muscles to power his talented hands—kneading, squeezing, and even thrusting in her… she only stopped staring after a friend had to shout her name three times.

And Asha could absolutely swear that those white pants were tighter on Steve’s ass than they had been that afternoon.

She was about to excuse herself to the washroom again when finally the last guests announced they would call it a night. Asha saw them out and came back to the yard to see Steve starting to load up dishes.

“Seriously?” she asked. “We’re going to do the dishes? After we’ve been giving each other the lusty eyes all day?”

“I just thought…”

She cut him off with a sudden, deep, and fierce kiss. His heat radiated not only from his warm lips, but from his whole body, as if he had been burning with the same intense desire as she had. Though, as far as she knew, Steve hadn’t ducked into the loo to douse his fire.

As she wrestled Steve’s tongue with her own, and her nerve endings crackled, she realised she’d barely bought her libido any time at all with her self-pleasure. She needed him now. Steve clearly felt the same, breaking the kiss, and turning her so the bulge in his pants was pressed firmly against her ass. Asha moaned as he kissed her neck, and she wiggled, trying to find that sweet spot between her thighs, despite the four layers of clothing between them. She giggled as his breath tickled her at her nape. He spun her back around, lifting her onto the table and pushed up her dress. Her giggles were replaced by a breathless moan as he kissed his way quickly up her thighs.

She wanted to let it happen, needed to let it happen…but it wouldn’t do, not out here, not when a neighbour might pop outside to investigate moans and sighs and grunts, not to mention the sound of skin slapping on skin, of deep sloppy kisses lapping at lips… and other places.

She ran a hand though his hair, then pushed him away gently.

“Indoors, my love. We don’t need to scandalise the neighbours.”

Without a word, Steve picked her up, hands under her ass and carried her inside. She could smell his cologne and his clean, warm skin with her head in the crook of his shoulder. And now his cock was pushing against her front rather than her rear, rubbing deliciously against her wet folds and hard clit. He set her down at the foot of the stairs that led to their bedroom and slid his hand up her dress. Cupping her vulva and rubbing the damp fabric of her panties over her pussy gave just the right kind of friction and she groaned. Steve kissed her passionately again, muffling her sighs as his lust focused into his lips and tongue, pushing and pressing into her, as if to devour her. The man really wasn’t making it easy for a woman worried about the prying ears and eyes of the neighbours.

“Upstairs, love, upstairs,” she managed through the lusty haze settling in her brain and making it hard to think of anything but Steve’s hand on her pussy. She tore herself away but made it only to the first landing before he was on her again, pinning her against the wall. Pushing up her dress, he pulled her panties aside and kneeled before her, his hot breath searing her thighs. Steve’s tongue darted and slid into her—roughly, urgently. He squeezed the globes of her ass teasing them apart to increase his access, so that he might taste every fold of her wet cunt.

She moaned as he licked and sucked, his feast her felicity. If she’d thought the cotton of her panties provided the perfect friction, she was wrong; nothing compared to the warm, strong muscle of his tongue, moving more forcefully, as if powered by her juices; the wetter she became, the faster it moved.

Then, it was gone. The next thing she knew, he had pushed into her with ease, his hard cock stretching her just the right amount, as always.

“Oh God,” he groaned into her ear as he grasped her hips and thrust, hours and hours of his own pent-up desire from the barbecue fuelling each lunge into her, the silky sheath of his steel member massaging the walls of her pussy. Had she thought his tongue provided the perfect friction? She was wrong again; it was his cock, every inch of it, stimulating the entire length of her canal, each thrust sending sparks through her.

“Oh God,” Asha moaned back, and bent over as far as she could, pulling his cock even deeper, so that he dragged at each ridge of her pussy wall with every thrust. Steve gamely kept going for a little longer, but then he withdrew and whispered, “I need to taste you again.” The words rang in her ears. Taste, taste, taste…yes, she needed to taste him too.

They only got to the second flight of stairs before she had to have him in her mouth. She pushed him against the wall and knelt down on the risers, and wrapped her lips around his shaft. Steve groaned as she licked gently up the underside, just the lightest touch to tease him, to send flutters through him the way he had sent them through her two flights down. She licked all over his member, as if to collect her own juices and his pre-cum and then flicked her tongue at the very tip, again teasing with light, quick touches.

But she didn’t torture him for long; neither had the patience for that. She put her hands on his thighs for leverage and began to blow him in earnest, sliding him out until just the tip remained in her hot wet mouth, and then plunging froward, until her lips met the very root of his cock. She nuzzled her nose into his pelvis, delighting in the pheromones there, making her dizzy with anticipation for him plunge into her pussy again.

The stairwell’s acoustics sent the sounds of their passion bouncing throughout the narrow passage: Steve’s grunts and Asha’s whimpers of pleasure the melody over the steady rhythm of wet, suckling sounds where his member met her mouth. She loved the sounds, she loved the feel, and oh, how she loved the taste, but she also needed to be filled again, somewhere where Steve’s cock could set her nerve endings on fire.

She looked up at him, licking her lips, and smiled. His eyes were still closed in concentration, so she stood and grabbed his hand, pulling him to where their bed awaited. Finally, finally, they had arrived. No guests, no neighbours, no stairs.

They undressed each other hurriedly, and she laid down, spread her knees, and pulled her legs back. He licked and lapped at her with even more passion than he had on the stairs; and he had more room between her thighs now that she was lying back, able to open herself up more fully so that he could make sure no millimetre of her pussy was neglected. She gripped his hands with her own as they gripped her ass, squeezing him, and then pulling gently toward her chest.

Steve didn’t need a more direct hint; he rose up and lined his cock up with her soaking entrance, then plunged in. She cried out and he grunted; he slid in and she raised her hips; he leaned forward to kiss one breast; she squeezed and lifted it toward his eager mouth. His lips were still glistening and wet with her juices as he nibbled gently at her nipples, then raised his head and put his hands on either side of her swaying body. Asha knew what was coming next, and then it did: he pounded her hard, as if to drive her back through the headboard. Each thrust of his hips was a forceful foreshock that rippled through her, sending shockwaves from her pussy through her whole body, finally escaping as heat through every flushed pore in her skin. It wouldn’t be long now before he made her cum, lying here on the San Andreas Fault, and their motion together was going to cause a rupture…

She gripped his head in her hands, probably too tight but she didn’t care, because the fault was slipping, the needle in her seismograph was drawing huge spikes, each one a jolt of pleasure rumbling through her, and the rumble they heard was her low, primal scream as she came, quivering and shaking.

She collapsed then, panting, and slowly came down, basking in pure contentment. This, this is what she had wanted, no needed, all day, since they’d got out of bed: to be alone. Alone with their lips and fingers and nipples and butts and their enflamed, needy loins. Alone with their sighs and moans and pants. Alone with their love and desire and carnal need.

Her quick pop to the loo was nothing, a mere amuse-bouche, compared to the feast Steve had prepared for her since the last guest finally left; appetizers on the stairs, the main course here on the bed, and for dessert…

Of course. Steve, the chef, the foodie, loved to smell and taste, and he was back between her thighs as soon as they stopped trembling, licking and lapping at her. She knew he would inhale the scent of her desire as he tongued her.

“Kobe beef, truffles, caviar, Jamón Ibérico, are fast food compared to you,” Steve had told her once early in their relationship, back when careers and networking hadn’t yet intruded so much on their intimate moments. “Might as well be pablum.”

They were in bed, Steve between her legs, using his talented hands on her wet slit. He could do so much with those hands, and not just in the kitchen—he kneaded her folds, squeezed her clit, rubbed, and stroked, massaged and pat her engorged lips—until she couldn’t take anymore and was pushing his head down, so that he could taste her, and she could explode on his tongue, which Steve was every bit as good with as his hands. He licked her through her orgasm, and when it finally subsided, he had lifted his head and smiled at her.

“You are the most succulent, delectable, delicious dish in the world,” he had said, and she had known he meant it: his eyes had that faraway look, a glassy ecstasy she only ever saw when he was in the kitchen or at the grill, finally satisfied he’d perfected a recipe. She had already been 99 per cent sure she would marry him; that night clinched it.

He certainly was perfect so far tonight, because as hard as he’d made her come, another orgasm was building as he licked and tasted her, savouring her before filling her again. That was part of Steve’s culinary genius: treating her to the delicious contrast between his soft tongue and hard cock.

He slid up her body, kissing her deeply, tasting her there too, and slid in to her, and yes, the contrast was so great, the hard, solid weight of his cock filling her, the perfect converse to the soft, light flicks of his tongue. He bucked his hips with abandon, chasing his own orgasm with a single-minded animal focus. He grunted as he thrusted, the slap of his flesh against hers loud in the bedroom.

“Oh God!” he yelled finally, and pulled out quickly. He knew how much she loved to feel his seed on her, the liquid manifestation of his desire for her, the culmination of his lust. And when he spurted on her ass and thighs, it sent her crashing over the edge as well, spasming even as his cock spasmed, his cum hot even on her flushed skin.

She sighed with each scalding drop, then rolled over to meet him as he slid up the bed, kissing him deeply as they recovered.

“Dinner was great, darling, but dessert was divine,” Asha said when they finally parted. Steve smiled.

“So good to be alone at last”

The End

They point high above the billowing grasses, slender young legs waving freely and moving in a regular motion. There seems no meaning at first just legs, young, carefree and naked from the tip to all that I can see, planted amongst the autumn grasses. Moments later it all becomes that much clearer, a pair of feminine naked legs become more visible as I continue walking towards their location. With each stride I take I see more of their shape, 2 young legs seemingly belonging to a woman protruding high above the ground, and with them I just make out the shape of a man’s body, his back and rounded bottom appear naked faced down straddled between her legs, covering most of her body but moving with a regular motion. I see his bottom, rising and falling thrusting into her with her legs moving and jerking upwards in response to his actions. Outdoor sex, how fucking hot. I moved closer wanting to be their voyeur, watch the passion between the couple fucking spark into something molten.

I stop motionless for a moment, not wishing to make a sound or draw attention to my presence realising what I am seeing. I may be a little intruding yet this isn’t private land they are on, do they realise anyone can see them should they walk this way? I am not meaning to spy on their outdoor sex, but I can’t help watching and staring. As he moves slightly I can just start to make out her dark hair falling around her shoulders spilling onto the ground around her in full waves. Then the sound, yes her sound resonating deep from within her body, she is moaning as he continues to penetrate her body. Ah I take a quick breath, it sounds good, it sounds so raw to actually hear her noises as he fucks deep into her body, so passionate knowing they are making love here in the field that I am also in. I start to feel almost part of her moans as I listen more and more to their sexual energy.

I don’t move away, I don’t feel inclined to, just slightly circle where there is less chance of being discovered. I can’t help but want to see, it’s only natural afterall, I don’t believe they can see me, they are too engrossed in each other to care, therefore surely no harm in just a few moments more.

I see him move slightly down her body and for the first time I can see her young frame, she is naked from the waist down with her blouse fully open and no sign of a bra covering her breasts. They are all open to the elements and natural, moving so freely. I can’t help but think how beautiful they look. I imagine touching them, soft, rounded, feminine, so lush and young and desirable. She gasps slightly during her moans and I realise his face has moved to between her legs, licking her pussy, exploring her with his tongue, which catches her momentary with a sudden intake of breath before she continues her regular sound of pleasure. His head buried in her, he laps her up, exploring so intimately, the pleasure must be so intoxicating I start to feel inwardly jealous that it’s not me lying there, with his head buried deep between my thighs.

For the first time I see his face as he slides behind her cocooning her body with his. I am fascinated to know who he is, who they both are, why it matters but somehow I am feeling an intimate connection with them both. He looks young, with a sexy cheeky persona that I instantly engage with and appears considerate with his love-making. Having moved to a new spot I see more clearly, his legs shaped with her and for the first time I see his cock, hard, rigid pulsing between her legs and into her pussy. Her head thrown back they move so well together with a rhythm and tenderness but still with a driven passion I am transfixed with. I watch as he thrusts into her, each move I see reflected on her face, her look of such deep pleasure and satisfaction, I can only imagine the intense feeling she is receiving.

It seems just moments before the raven haired girl releases her body and takes the chance to devour her man. Her body now shaped in a feline stance, her naked back beautifully arched with her bottom high for all to see above the grass, she bends her head and engulfs him in her mouth. Her gentle look gives way to a woman of sexual fervour, she is so driven in her consumption, and I watch her relishing each stroke with her tongue and lips. Enjoying such full mouthfuls of her lover. This act tweaks a muscle within me and I start to feel an ache of need. What am I doing watching this couple enjoying each other and getting myself so aroused in the meantime? But the vision is too perfect, the setting so romantic and the act so raw and sexual I continue to watch.

With her blouse now slipped down upon her arms, her back arches, her breasts pert and beautiful in the sunlight, I see the moment she straddles his body, feeling now just how hard and turned on he had become. I know she is feeling him deep within her. I scan her face find the confirmation of her pleasure, the tell tale look of her delight. She rides him, rocking her body over and up, down and deep. I struggle to see his face lying down in the grass, but hers sums up my thoughts and I need no other confirmation. Completely oblivious to any possible intruder upon their scene, they continue a pace in seeking their ultimate gratification. I see her move off so they once again share the intimate space with him holding her close from behind, his leg entwined with hers while he engages with her again. Yet more penetration this time I see a different pattern to his force, a change in rhythm until the look on this face validates his orgasm while his juices squirt between her legs soaking her dark pussy hair. He sinks his head into her shoulder, the effort evident but the pleasure fully attained.

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 set 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 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 at her hips, revealing her neat shaved 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 and a dark grey suit that might’ve fit in at 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. A door she knew was now 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. After they began 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 much 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 ground her sensual body onto his. She always took care of her lovers’ 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 encounters one could experience at a place like this. When she first toured the facility, she did so as merely a voyeur… a spectator to the erotic side of life. She truly had no intention of ever partaking in anything kinky, or submissive. Then, as these things often 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 often did little more than present a love tap on her perfect 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, a 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…

After many sleepless nights dreaming of being tied down and taken by a complete stranger, she had decided to go ahead with her fantasy. She selected something simple, an encounter with a single man, who would dominate her, and force her to submit to him. She had agreed to let him do whatever he chose with her body, with only one request—she wanted to be tied down.

She didn’t know what exactly it was about the idea of her body being tied down on a table spread-eagle, her wrists and ankles bound with rope, but she grew impossibly wet at the very idea. Maybe it was the feeling of being displayed on some sacrificial altar, like a virgin to be taken in some dark ritual. Or maybe it was the idea of being pushed down on a teacher’s desk, her knickers thrust down to her ankles as a sexy, older professor thrust his cock into her quivering quim. Or maybe her sex fantasy involved a sexy executive chef, casting aside the chopped vegetables he was preparing for dinner from his freshly oiled butcher block, and bending her over and taking her from behind as she screamed out in ecstasy.

She truly had no idea what made her so aroused thinking about being taken in such a manner upon a wooden table such as the one she was laying on, but she loved it.

The idea that her body was to be on full display, and she could do nothing to stop her lover from having her in any manner he chose drove her wild with desire. She didn’t care to know precisely why this was her ultimate fantasy… she only cared that it was finally about to come true.

~

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 subject, 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, then paused near her feet. He picked up a piece of dark rope and dragged it over her leg. Without a word, he took her foot in 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, 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, and 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 lose all concentration when she walked by, 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 her 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 he pushed them into her mouth. She licked his fingers as if she were licking his cock, perhaps showing him 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 chain and dragged it over her legs, and across the insides 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 chains slowly up her body toward her breasts. She bit her lip. She knew what was coming next.

The clamps.

Elena 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. George moved slowly back down between her legs. He bent his head forward and kissed her stomach, then lower. His hands moved over her inner thighs, then gasped as his mouth found her inner lips.

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

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 agonizing, tormenting movements. Her entire 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, and she was loving every minute of it.

Elena 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 all she could do was hope he continued 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 toward her face. Elena 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 fingers 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 gritted 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.

“More,” 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 such a frenzied state.

“Say it again,” he commanded.

“More,” she begged. “Please… more.”

He smiled.

Releasing her head back down he moved back between her legs. Except he didn’t return to French kissing and teasing 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 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. She spread her legs. Her ankles strained against the bonds, demanding to be set free, but that was not to happen. Elena 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 tormentor she so desperately craved. They kissed again, then George moved to release the binds around her wrists and her ankles. Elena 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 slowly pushed herself up on the table.

She looked to George, wondering what was to come next.

~

Her desire for submission had been fulfilled. She had endured being completely helpless, and brought to the edge multiple times, orgasming over and over at the talented hands and tongue of her new lover. Now, it was clear to her what needed to be done.

It was her turn to do what she did best.

Elena leaned forward and undid the buckle on George’s belt. She slipped her hand inside his zipper and removed his thick cock from his trousers. Bending forward she took him between her lips. She sucked him eagerly, drawing his cock deep into her mouth as George placed his hands on her back. He let out a deep grunt and she smiled to herself. She sucked him harder, taking his full length between her soft lips.

Giving pleasure was what came naturally to her. Submission had been wonderful, but this was what she enjoyed the most. Twisting her body around to face him, she spread her legs and guided his cock inside her. He entered her swiftly, driving his shaft deep between her lips. She cried out, and arched her back, drawing him into her even more deeply. She lay back, giving him a perfect view as he penetrated her.

Her moans echoed in the small, dark room. She stared up at the ceiling, the single light still shining down on the dark wood table where she had been tied and helpless moments ago. Now, free to move her arms and body, she felt more in control, and more like herself. She pushed herself up and kissed her lover, tasting him as he continued to penetrate her. He thrust back and forth, faster and faster.

Her fantasy of being tied and restrained was complete. Now, she wanted one thing, and one thing only: to explode with her lover’s cock buried deep inside her. She thrust her hips hard against him, taking his cock as deep as she could. This time there were no ropes, no concern her lover would suddenly tear himself away, and leave her hanging. They were going to climax together.

She cried out, coming hard from his thrusting… from the tormenting… from the fantasy of being tied down and completely helpless. All of it rushed through her mind as her body exploded in a final orgasm. George withdrew from her. His cock exploded and his warm semen shot on her skin. She slowly lowered her body back down, once again aware of the wood table beneath her… the table she would never forget.

Elena smiled deeply as George took his leave. She was already planning her next fantasy and wondering just how far she could go into this new world of pleasure and pain, of submission, and of course, of using her body to get what she wanted. That, for her, was always the real fun. Maybe next time she would entertain multiple lovers. How can one command a roomful of men while being tied down, unable to move? It was a challenge, no doubt, but one she was thrilled to embark on in her erotic journey into the world of submission… because she was never truly submitting… she was always in charge.

Always.

The End