Day 14--Geoffrey
The next morning kicked off crisp and clear; hard to miss, actually,
since we were in the ring exercising just as the sun crept over the
horizon.
After a thorough workout, I led Sabrina into the barn, removed most
of her gear save her boots and her headgear, then pulled out a second
pair from the tack box, only these had much longer leather tubes
connected to the horse hooves on the end.
"Hold out your hands," I instructed.
She didn't look too surprised when I slipped the end of one of the
new boots over her arm, and began lacing it up past her elbow almost
to her shoulder. After the second one was properly fitted, I helped
lower her hands to the ground, then took the reins from either side
of her head and slowly led her off on all fours to a stall at the end
of the row.
She couldn't help but notice the "Sabrina" nameplate I had installed
on the door.
Once inside, I positioned her next to a hitching post, and wrapped
the reins around them. Next, I crawled under her with two long
pieces of twine in my hand, tying one set of ends around her nipples,
and the other around her ankles. Then, I removed the bit from her
mouth and replaced it with a feed bag full of breakfast cereal.
I left her for maybe half an hour while I attended to the other
horses. When I returned, I removed the almost-empty bag and held a
bucket filled with fresh water under her mouth. Once she seemed
satiated, I replaced the bit in her mouth and gave her a swat on her
rump.
"Be good," I said as I closed the stall door, only to return a
minute later.
"I almost forgot," I said as I moved around to Sabrina's head so I
could show her the thick black plug festooned with what appeared to
be thousands of strands of chestnut brown hair.
"Your new dress tail. Hmmm, looks like it needs to be brushed."
--Sabrina--
Geoffrey took his sweet time brushing the tail, and by the time he
was finished, I hoped the pain in my ass was worth it. This had to
be the most beautiful equestrian appendage ever.
When he was gone again--I had a hunch he wouldn't be back for a
while--I inventoried my accessories, and found out I could move my
knees forward and squat down. The reins on either side of my head
forced me to stay near the post, but a few twists of my neck and
shoulders...should allow me...to turn around, and...there. As I
slumped on my thighs, I remembered the plug and moved my feet a few
centimeters apart to avoid any additional pressure where I didn't
need it.
Kneeling with my head facing the stall entrance, I wondered how I
was going to spend the time. I looked at my hands, rendered pretty
useless by the hooves. There was no way I could think of unlacing
the gloves without the use of my teeth. Sigh. What had I gotten
myself into?
My thoughts traveled back in time, until early that morning. What a
shock it had been to wake up in the cage. I didn't remember entering
it, but the marks left by the bars and the numbness in my muscles
indicated I had spent most of the night in it. Why hadn't he let me
sleep in his bed? Had I done something wrong? I couldn't quite
remember.
And now, what? How long would I be left in this barn? If only
there was some music; at this point, even commercials would be
entertaining.
While musing, I started to draw shapes in the dirt with my right
hoof. First some lines, then weird geometrical forms, then letters.
I wrote my name. Then Geoffrey's. Then erased them. I decided to
play with numbers. I wrote two of them. Made mental calculations.
Checked the result. From two-digit numbers, I went on to three
digits, then four, forcing my brain cells to shake off their apathy
and get to work. When I was tired with numbers, I played letter
games such as anagrams.
For the first time, I realized I would like to put my thoughts on
paper; relate my journey into these dark, weird territories. Perhaps
he would let me, if I had a chance to ask. I couldn't let myself
become a stupid sex toy, even if that's what he meant to turn me into.
But did he really want this? Was it the reason behind the "Sabrina"
nameplate on the door? Did he expect me to become a brainless pony,
trained to obey his orders blindly, without any personal thought,
without any desire beyond sexual satisfaction?
I decided I wouldn't. I greatly enjoyed all the challenges, but the
thrill would fade and eventually disappear if I were to lose my
identity. I was afraid of waking up one day so completely broken
down that the game would no longer excite me. Even an occasional
fight was not out of the question. I would have to make sure he
didn't turn me into a sexual robot. I needed to keep my spirits high.
However, when I heard Geoffrey's heavy shoes shake the earth outside
the stables, any idea for a fight automatically vanished and I
quickly contortioned to return to my initial position, on all fours.
As he stepped inside, I tried to wipe off any trace of my mental
games on the ground but when the door opened, I could still make out
a couple of letters from his name. A "F," an "R" and an "E." Free.
--Geoffrey--
Walking back from the barn, I knew I was in too good a mood, which
was often dangerous. When I arrived back at the house, a large
parcel festooned with overnight-delivery labels was waiting on the
front door. About time, I thought. My latest assignment. I brought
the box down to the studio and decimated the wrappings with a knife.
Out popped the latest in portable inkjet printers from my friends in
Palo Alto. My job was to photograph the sucker from every
conceivable angle, including a full 360-degree digital drill so it
could be viewed in 3D by those whose browsers wanted to be a
PlayStation when they grew up.
Yeah, it wasn't exactly a glamour gig, but technology product
photography gave me a degree of legitimacy and paid the bills, and
they were assignments I could accomplish in the privacy of my home.
Plus, I usually got to keep what I shot, which kept the local
electrical utility very, very happy.
Besides, my white slavery days were most likely coming to an end.
Thinking like a proper criminal--i.e., one who doesn't get caught--I
knew it was high time I went legit, before Interpol finally figured
out the intricacies of the Internet. Fortunately, I had invested my
scurrilous profits for the long term, with plenty of dividends
churning out monthly residuals that would comfortably support a
family of four, if not 40 or 400.
I punched up some CDs on the jukebox and got to work setting up a
plain white backdrop for the test shots. By the time I calibrated
the lights to the flash, I realized it was almost lunchtime. Better
try a few Polaroids first, I decided as I hummed along to some of
Frank Zappa's nursery crimes. After all, Sabrina wasn't going
anywhere.
Or so I hoped. I realized there was no guarantee that my sudden
good fortune would last any longer than this afternoon. This was
probably the trickiest relationship I had ever attempted, although
I'd been in some doozies in the past. But none where the implicit
had been so explicit up front. Usually, it took forever to get a
partner interested in my particular avocation, and most of those
failed as soon as scenes progressed beyond wrist cuffs. And the ones
who were honest about their shared affection for my affliction tended
to be like Brenda, or worse: dishrag submissives, topping-from-below
banshees, furry/Gor fantasists, pain sluts, porn starlets in
training, and all manner of gold diggers willing to do anything to
get at my stock-portfolio password.
With Sabrina, I had thrown out the old rules of engagement; usually
I started off being a nice guy, then turned into a fire-breathing
sadist later. Stunningly, it seemed to be working. But the Big
Transition loomed large on the horizon. Did she want me to continue
to be the big bad dom who treated her like a prized pet? Or did she
want a "normal" relationship (whatever the hell those were) in which
sexual torture was our preferred mode of foreplay? I would be more
than happy to keep her bound, gagged and physically, if not
psychically, perturbed for many moons to come. But how long would
she last under such treatment? It would be something like solitary
confinement, or worse. Eventually, she would get...bored.
And most likely, I hated to admit, so would I.
I put down my camera and turned off the strobe. There has to be a
center solution, I decided. One where we could maintain our
established structure without turning her into a bondage cliche like
a harem girl, or a maid.
Or a pony, I chuckled, although, damn, Sabrina looked great in
hooves. Good exercise, too...yeah, right. Speaking of which, I
headed up the stairs and out the back door toward the barn.
"That's my girl," I said affectionately as I entered her stall,
giving her rump a light swat with his palm. "Miss me? Probably not.
Well, anyway, time for lunch. Let's get you out of your tack and
head back to the house."
I stripped her naked, then gestured toward the door.
"Come on, let's go, I'm starving. Anything special you want for
lunch?"
"Yes...please," she replied tentatively.
"Permission granted to speak normally," I said, smiling. "And just
so you know, after we eat lunch, I am going to take you up to my
bedroom and fuck you silly: no gags, no cuffs, no corsets, no nothing
except what's naturally attached to us. Then, we're going to figure
out how we're going to do this thing together for the long term.
Over the last day and a half, you've experienced one option.
Something tells me you may have other ideas. And now's the time to
tell me."
I extended a hand around her neck, pulled her face closer to mine,
and kissed her long and hard, our tongues squirming like charmed
snakes.
--Sabrina--
After such a passionate embrace, lunch was an annoying necessity. I
asked for sandwiches because they didn't require any preparation, and
I ate them so quickly, I had to wait twice as long for Geoffrey to
finish.
During our meal, I would have gladly shared the ideas he was so keen
to hear, but he turned our conversation to his new photography
assignment. My heart missed a beat as I imagined another woman in
the house. However, when he mentioned the printer, I silently
admonished myself for being so stupidly jealous.
Despite its technical approach, he caught my interest. Hearing him
talk about his work, or anything personal for that matter, was a rare
indulgence. I hung on every word, and asked as many questions as I
could come up with. It was both amazing and reassuring to discover
that he led some kind of a normal life, too. He still hadn't given
me a proper explanation for all this auction nonsense, but I hoped
what I didn't care to know wouldn't hurt me.
When the table was cleared, Geoffrey led me into the hall. I had to
fight the urge to run up the stairs like an overexcited child.
Instead I followed him quietly up and into his room.
There, faithful to his promise, he fucked me silly.
What an appropriate choice of words, I chuckled when, almost an hour
later, I was slowly cooling down from his repeated assaults. I had
cuddled up close to him after the grand finale and idly caressed his
chest with my fingers. I felt silly. And happy. Happily silly.
Partly because of the sexual satiation, but also because I felt some
interesting changes approaching. He had obviously done some thinking
on his own and had reached the same conclusion as I had. In the long
term, we needed more than bondage to keep us together.
I lifted my head and looked into his eyes, twinkling like two tiny
stars. Our lips met shortly, and then he asked me to go ahead and
tell him what I'd been dying to tell him ever since we left the barn.
I smiled at his accurate judgment of my inborn impatience and
finally opened up.
"You're right, I do have other ideas. Not that I don't like what
we're doing, but I need something else, too. I need to be busy,
useful, active. Not only in a dirt ring."
I waited to see if I didn't exceed my newly-recovered right to
speak, but he nodded for me to continue, and I went on, gaining
composure with each phrase and each nod.
I told him I wished I could help him with his work. I would do
anything, help with the photo sessions or administrative matters,
whatever he would consider. I was a fast typist, I knew my way
around computers, and I was good with figures. At the International
Fashion Council, I had dealt with administrative and financial
procedures, as well as communications. Perhaps he could put my
experience to good use?
Then, afraid of giving the wrong impression, I added:
"Just so you know, I certainly don't want a 'normal' relationship
with kinky activities as evening entertainment. I'd like our very
special association to continue as it is. I'm afraid I'm going to be
extremely bored if I don't do anything else but wait for you to
return, even with a vibrator as companion, y'know?"
As if Geoffrey had listened long enough, he rolled away from me and
got up from the bed.
"Okay, here's what we'll do," he said. "Take a quick shower, then
come and join me in my study."
Ten minutes later, fresh, naked and curious, I knocked on his study
door further down the corridor and entered. He was standing behind
his desk, taking documents out of a drawer and piling them in front
of him, next to the computer.
He beckoned me by his side and ordered me to spread my legs. When I
did, I watch him insert a thick vibrator in my still vaguely burning
sex and secure it tightly with my chastity belt.
Next, he asked me to sit on the desk chair, a very basic wooden
antiquity, and used several coils of white rope to tie my ankles,
knees and thighs to it. Leaving my upper body free of any bonds, he
explained what he expected from me.
"A friend of mine used to check my accounts every now and then, but
he left town three months ago and I haven't found anyone to replace
him yet. Here are all the bills and invoices related to that period.
Can you put some order in that mess?"
"Sure. At least I can try."
He turned on the computer and opened an accounting program.
"This is what he used. See if you can make something out of it. I
have work to do in the studio for the rest of the afternoon, so you
have a few hours to yourself. However--"
While he spoke, he had pulled a wire under the chastity belt and
connected it to a socket behind the desk, fixing it on the ground
with various straps of heavy tape.
"You're allowed to take a few breaks. If you don't know when, this
timer will tell you."
He showed me the black box halfway between the chair and the wall,
and I had no problem understanding what he meant.
He bent down to kiss my forehead and left after one last
encouragement.
Eager to get to work, I took the pile of papers on my left and
proceeded to sort them out. Seeing the names of his clients, I
realized most of his work was highly technical. Expensive, too. And
I certainly appreciated the fact that he trusted me to see all this.
It didn't take me more than ten minutes to figure out the home
accounting program his accountant used to work with, and I started to
record the data in the expense or expenditure files. Then, just as I
was typing yet another five-digit figure in the credits, the vibrator
buzzed to life. Time for a break.
I leaned on the chair and let my head roll back. Ooooh, the fucker
was fast and strong. I gripped the arms of the chair with my hands
and began to moan along the vibrating tune playing inside. The song
lasted for about ten minutes, then stopped as abruptly as it had
started. I took a couple of deep, slow breaths and, straightening
up, resumed my work.
Two hours later, all the data of the last three months were neatly
computerized. In addition, I had created a file for his clients,
another one for his suppliers, and noted that he had a couple of late
invoices to recover, but all his bills were paid. I also took, or
rather was forced to take, three more breaks.
My excitement had reached new proportions. There was the sex
thrill, but there was something else, too. I was convinced we could
make this work for a very long time; why not forever? Our
relationship had started on an unusual, out-of-this-world level. Now
we were laying down more solid foundations, rooting our uncommon
desires in reality. Yes, if our minds functioned as well together as
our bodies did, this could truly work.
When Geoffrey returned, I showed him what I'd done and waited for
him to say whether I had the job.
--Geoffrey--
"I'm impressed, Sabrina," I said after studying the screens. "Very,
very impressed."
In fact, I was stunned, as my facility at spreadsheets was limited
to launching Excel attachments whenever my tax attorney sent them via
email for my review. The accounts payable were current. The
deadbeats were marked for immediate attention. Hell, even my
expenses looked plausible. And all without a single question.
Stunning. Not to mention scary. What kind of brain did Sabrina have
churning away in that beautiful head of hers?
And more importantly, why wasn't it in its proper state, i.e.
wrapped in leather?
I figured it would take somewhere close to eternity to figure out
the answer to the first question. The second was considerably easier
to address.
"Nice work. We shall continue working on the computer tomorrow.
But now, it's time to dress for dinner."
I left her tied to the chair while I went to my studio to select her
outfit and accessories for the evening.
Her favorite thigh-high boots were a given, as was the matching
binder for her arms. For a corset, I selected one she hadn't worn
before; it would cover her entire torso from the middle of her hips
to a pair of half-moon cups that would shape and lift her breasts
most deliciously. The thickest discipline collar and a steel bar to
connect the back of her neck to her wrists, the leather hood, plus
the earplugs and a penis gag with a breathing hole. A pair of clamps-
-no, make that two--plus weights. I'd choose things to insert inside
her later, after my own needs were satiated.
I returned upstairs, untied her from the chair, and removed the
vibrator just as it was starting up yet again.
"Hold out your left leg."
It took upward of an hour before she was laced, plugged and pinned,
but when I stood up to admire her, the net effect made my legs
tremble. I quickly pulled together the slack from the chains between
the clamps adorning her nipples and her labia, and clipped the end of
a leash around them.
I led her into the dining room, and pushed her down onto her knees
next to my chair at the table. I reached into my pocket and pulled
out three padlocks, which I looped through rings molded into her
boots to connect her upper and lower thighs, followed by her ankles.
Then I wrapped the leash tightly around the leg of the table so she
couldn't move without causing immense stress on her most sensitive
spots.
"Dinner will be served in about an hour, mademoiselle" I said with a
bow, doing my best imitation of an oily, unctuous waiter at a one-
star restaurant getting by on its dessert tray.
Not that she was in any position to critique my performance, I
thought with a smile, although many might think that deaf, dumb and
blind aptly describes most dining-out reviewers.
--Sabrina--
Kneeling in perfect silence and darkness, I was wonderfully
peaceful. Despite his total dominance over me, Geoffrey still
respected me as a person, a person with ideas, a person with
abilities, and that was all I needed to know. With no doubts and no
questions, my mind was finally at rest; for a girl like me, always
too quick to think about potential problems, this was unknown bliss.
Relaxed as I was, I still had to make sure I stayed still. Each
time my body lolled back, attracted by the weight of the armbinder
and the bar that linked it to my neck, flashes of pain summoned me to
refocus on my position. The strain on my shoulders increased, but
that wasn't a problem. If it pleased him, it pleased me, too; for
the first time, I realized an important change in me. I wanted to
give him what he wanted; not to avoid punishment, not to gain praise,
but just to give him satisfaction. After everything Geoffrey had
done for me, I felt he deserved it.
He brought me out of my reverie when he removed the gag.
Two minutes later, he filled my mouth with food. With taste and
smell as my only available senses, I tried to guess what I was eating
while I chewed on a thin slice of what might be pasta with a variety
of toppings. Pizza. That much was easy. Determining the
ingredients wasn't.
I had never taken so much pleasure in eating. The food was lovely,
yet I couldn't tell what it was. This was fun. Sensual. Erotic.
Between mouthfuls, he let me drink, but he alternated the beverages.
First I tasted water. Then some sparkling soda. Then an awful
bitter drink that I almost spat out, but swallowed with disgust.
Beer?
When this entertaining meal was over, he buckled the gag back in
place, untied the leash and my leg restraints, and helped me up.
I shivered a little when he placed his arm around my hips to lead me
to the living room. My heart was beating in anticipation of yet
another evening with him. Even watching television would be a very
exciting option.
--Geoffrey--
While feeding Sabrina dinner, I finally realized what it was about
her that had me so entranced.
She wanted this--the good, the bad, the worse, the terrible, the
terrifying, the torture, all of it--as much as I wanted to dish it
out.
"Hard to believe, but true," I said out loud, knowing she couldn't
hear me, as I guided her into the living room.
And if I was really lucky, she'd eventually need it as much as I
did, too.
That was the tricky part; when would "enough" be enough for her?
For me, too much was never enough. I'd been hardwired for bondage
since my earliest memories, but I had yet to meet a woman who shared
my desires from the opposite perspective. Could Sabrina be the
exception that proved the rule?
The only way to find out was to push her as far as I dared, then
pull back and make her beg for more.
I led her to the center of the living room and let her stand while I
rolled back a portion of the carpet to reveal the hardwood floor.
Interspersed between the beams were several round holes. I pulled
open a drawer in a small table by the couch and removed four silver
eyebolts, then screwed three of them into the floor around her in a
triangle pattern.
I compelled her to kneel by pushing down on her head, then pulled
apart her legs until her ankles were next to the eyebolts. Reaching
into my pocket, I produced two of the padlocks I had previously used
on her legs, and snapped them around the rings on her boots and two
of the metal circles in the floor.
I screwed the fourth eyebolt into the breathing hole in her gag,
pushed her head down again until it touched the third eyebolt in the
floor, and locked them together.
"That should keep you out of trouble." Or get you into a world of
trouble you can't possibly imagine, I thought as I headed downstairs
to choose the evening's whip.
Or perhaps a paddle, I decided after digging down a layer in the
chest where I stored my collection of striking gear.
The bottom of the corset pushed out the cheeks of her ass so they
were almost perfectly round, I noted with pleasure as my fingers
danced across her goosebump-sprinkled flesh.
I struck her once, then moved my fingers to her rectum, which I
pinched, poked and prodded until I heard what sounded most definitely
like a scream emanating from the direction of her head.
"As you wish," I said as the paddle swooshed through the air and
connected with a report that sounded like a backfiring car.
Back to her asshole, only this time, I lubricated my fingers with
clear jelly first, delving deeper and deeper inside her rubbery
canal. When she groaned audibly, the paddle flew again.
It took at least ten more strikes before she finally learned to keep
quiet while I inserted one, then two, then three fingers inside her.
Finally, I could stand it no longer. Yanking down my pants, I
entered her from behind and slowly leaned forward until my entire
erection was inside her.
Moan. Swat. Oooh, I liked the way she clenched just then. Let's
do that again.
And again.
And once again.
I began to slowly rock back and forth on my knees behind her,
immensely enjoying the way her muscles grabbed at my cock like a
relay racer gripping the baton.
"I wonder what would happen if I took off your nipple clamps off
right now?"
I reached under her body and tugged the leash still dangling from
the chains connected to her breasts and crotch.
--Sabrina--
As much as I aimed to please Geoffrey, it wasn't always easy to
guess what he expected of me. Even in my current condition, fixed to
the floor, I had a few options. Squirm, not squirm. Moan, not moan.
Clench, not clench. Obviously, my body had reflexes which were
almost impossible to control. I supposed he had a firm idea about
how an accomplished sex slave should react, and I had to figure it
out as well, the hard way.
No movement and no sound was probably a given, even though it was
easier said than done. Despite my will to stay quiet and still, my
hips swayed left and right to avoid any painful contact, while my
throat let out involuntary cries of torment. With the plugs filling
my ears, I could hear their distorted sounds from the inside, and
they were more frightening than silence itself.
When the pain turned into sexual fuel, I stifled any moan I could
feel coming up. The strikes on my ass instantly stopped. A sure
sign that I had finally understood an important part of the lesson.
However, when he entered me, I forgot all about it. He was going to
tear me apart. In my absolute darkness, I imagined red drops of
blood staining my thighs in long, thin rivers. Somehow, I knew he
wouldn't hurt me so badly, but I was feeding my pleasure with sordid
images, adding mental distress to the physical torture. And my
excitement grew tenfold.
At the back of my mind, I was horrified at my own participation in
this crazy game. Perhaps I should stop it, bring it back to a
reasonable level; is there reason where pleasure reigns as an
absolute master?
If I had had a chance to slow down the frenetic escalade, it
vanished when, without warning, my breasts and sex exploded in new
dimensions of pain. The world began to spin. I heard a terrible
howl resonate in my ears and felt I was losing ground. Angry at
myself for being so weak, I fought the downward spiral that
threatened to take me away from both the pain and the pleasure. If
only I had something to focus on; but the darkness was so compelling,
so inviting.
My head hit the floor as my body collapsed. Before passing out, I
silently whispered a plea for absolution.
"Sorry."
--Geoffrey--
"Nice move, you fucking idiot," I yelled at myself when Sabrina's
body slumped over sideways. "Maybe they wouldn't leave you if you
didn't fucking try to kill them."
I quickly unlocked her ankles, then her mouth. Relieved that she
was still breathing, I lay her on her side and loosened all the
lacings on the hood, binder, corset and boots.
"Come on, Sabrina, come back to me," I pleaded to her ashen, silent
face with no small degree of urgency.
"Don't do this, Sabrina--Earth to Sabrina--"
I debated whether to start CPR or mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. I
guessed I didn't have any smelling salts. What else do you do when
someone faints? No blood, not even back there; I knew I had
stretched her anus more than adequately over the past two weeks to
accommodate me. Pulse, check. Heartbeat, check. Give her air,
check. Loosen her clothing, check. How about remove her clothing?
Can't get much looser than naked. Who's her next of kin anyway? I
wonder if she's allergic to anything? The lube? Eyes still closed,
pupils dilated; is that good or bad?
I was starting to debate whether an ambulance would be faster than
driving her to the hospital myself. What would Jesus do? Oh great,
I admonished myself, this is a really dumb time to get religion.
Well, the carpenter's son would probably kiss her. Hey, it always
worked in fairy tales for frogs, which pretty much summed up my rung
on the evolutionary ladder right about now.
I leaned over and placed my lips gently against hers.
"C'mon, Sabrina, time to wake up. Please please please. At the
very least, give us a smile."
Much to my astonishment, she did. Stranger still, she returned my
kiss with one of her own. Then she finally opened her eyes.
--Sabrina--
Lips on mine. Soft. Warm. Such a nice touch. I returned
Geoffrey's kiss at the same time as I regained consciousness. When I
opened my eyes, his face, so close to mine, expressed relief and
surprise, but no anger at all. But I couldn't help feeling guilty.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered again.
"Hush, don't be silly," he gently told me, "I'm the one who's sorry."
"No, really, I wanted you to go on. I don't know what happened.
I've gone through worst than that before, haven't I?"
"Well, I guess you have. I don't know. It's sometimes hard to tell
where someone's limits are. Or maybe it was an accumulation of
things. A way for your body to say enough is enough."
I agreed. Yes, maybe my body didn't follow the insane pace we had
subjected it to. But then what? Did it mean I wasn't fit for this?
When I asked him, he laughed.
"Sabrina, you're as fit as can be. Don't expect me to dismiss you
because you passed out once. You're not rid of me yet!"
I smiled. I sure didn't want to get rid of him. Even if I had to
pass out every once in a while. At least the wake-up kiss was worth
it.
"So," he went on, "I guess we're gonna call it a day, as we seem to
have exceeded our fun quota. Can you stand?"
Leaning on Geoffrey's arm and shoulder, I nodded while I tried to
get up. My legs were still trembling, but if he stayed close, I
would make it to the bedroom.
After turning off the lights on the ground floor, he followed me up
the stairs; when I stopped in front of the door to my room, he
motioned me to continue further, bringing a smile to my face.
Once I was lying on his huge bed, he circled my wrists with two
fleece-lined leather cuffs he retrieved from a drawer. Next, he tied
them loosely above my head, giving me enough slack to bring my hands
close to my face, just like he had done a couple of nights before.
He always knows what to do, I reflected while he made a quick visit
to the bathroom. Tying me up to keep me in the right mood, but
allowing me the comfort of a good night's sleep. Just what I needed.
While he was gone, I wondered what he'd do next. The night was
still fairly young; despite my physical failure, I wasn't ready to
sleep yet.
--Geoffrey--
I went downstairs to pour myself a drink before returning to my
bedroom and Sabrina. As the VSOP flowed into the crystal snifter, I
reflected on her words and reactions after she regained
consciousness. No anger. No recriminations. Hell, she actually
apologized to me, despite her obvious innocence in the situation.
Definitely not standard operating procedure.
Armed, if not quite yet fortified, I climbed the stairs and opened
the door to my bedroom, fully expecting Sabrina to be sound asleep.
Instead, she was practically squirming on the bed, her eyes bright
and mischievous.
"You don't look like you're quite ready for the sandman. In fact,
if I didn't know better, I'd say you were game for another round.
Luckily, I have just the solution. Close your eyes."
I dug in my dresser until I found the ankle cuffs and blindfold that
were part of the set with the fuzzy wrist restraints. I remembered
suddenly that these were my first bondage purchases so many years
ago. I had quickly learned that they were a bit useless for anything
beyond implied restraint, but tonight, they were perfect for the job.
I slipped the blindfold over her head, rolled her onto her back,
gently pushed her legs apart, wrapped and locked the leather around
her ankles, and tied the cuffs loosely to the bedposts.
"No gag tonight," I whispered into her ear. "But no words, either.
Does that work for you?"
"Yes, please," she whispered back in a voice scarcely louder than
her heartbeat.
"Don't worry," I said soothingly. "No more pain tonight."
I picked up my glass of cognac and dribbled a few drops directly
into her navel. When the tiny crease was filled, I bent over and
began lapping it up ever so softly with my tongue.
The glass and its smoky contents eventually progressed to her
breasts, then the insides of her thighs, then her sex. When it was
empty, I went downstairs to fetch the dusty bottle.
--Sabrina--
When I heard Geoffrey return to the room, I was torn between the
desire to feel him continue his agonizingly sweet treatment forever,
and the urge to have him inside me right there, right then. When
more drops fell between my breasts, their liquid touch gliding down
to my navel, I knew he had enough patience for the both of us, and I
blessed him for that.
As his tongue flickered against my skin, I sighed and moaned in
delight. No words allowed, but there were many other ways to express
my growing lust. My whole body was doing the talking; toes
pointing, knees bending, thighs stretching to lift my ass up. The
slow wave continued to roll and passed my hips, chest, and shoulders.
Then it rolled down again, this time crashing on my twitchy sex, so
eager to be touched, caressed, filled.
He was now lapping in the tiny crease of my throat. From there he
moved to my ears. Then my breasts again. And down to my thighs.
Very, very slowly, he was building my pleasure with the care of an
artist. One touch here, one touch there. Not rushing at all.
How wrong I had been to consider this dominance/submission thing,
even bondage itself, as macho justification of sexual abuse. He was
giving so much. And better still, he was forcing me to receive his
gift without guilt or shame. By tying me up, he was liberating me
from much uglier bonds, the mental cuffs we attach ourselves.
When Geoffrey pressed his tongue in the folds of my labia, I felt
small puddles of tears cover my eyes, draining the excess emotions I
could no longer contain. The blindfold concealed them, but not for
long, as the puddles soon overflowed and dribbled down my cheeks.
Oh, Geoffrey, please do come in me, I pleaded in silence while my
vagina was eagerly grabbing at nothing but air. I want you in. I
need you in. Please.
How could he refrain for so long when I had already interrupted his
own pleasure when I fainted? Surely he needed relief as much as I
did.
Finally, perhaps because the bottle was empty, or because he could
no longer resist, Geoffrey entered my very wet vagina and pressed his
groin against mine. I clenched around his cock, holding him with all
my strength. For ten seconds. Then he pulled out, and pushed back
in. Again and again. Bringing me to a state where nothing mattered
but his hard shaft and his pubis rubbing my clit in the same motion.
I knew it wouldn't take long for me to come, but then I remembered
the rule he had imposed. So I tried to last as long as I could,
hoping he wouldn't tease me too cruelly this time.
He didn't. When I thought I would lose it again, he said the words
I longed to hear:
"Come with me."
His spasms triggered mine, and time stopped for the both of us as
wave after wave of pleasure washed over us.
When he lay down next to me, I turned my head to his side. I
thought I wanted to share my emotions, but even if he gave me
permission to speak, I wouldn't. Seconds later, I was sleeping
deeply.
