Out Of Commission By Adrian Hunter Copyright © 1995 by Adrian Hunter. All rights reserved. Please do not repost nor repurpose without permission.
Out Of Commission By Adrian Hunter email: adrian_hunter@hotmail.com stories: www.adrianhunter.com Such a pretty face...pity to have to cover it with so much leather. But we can change that later. The night is young, and we have many alternatives at our disposal. She kneels before me on a coffee table, her thighs lashed tight to her ankles and her collared neck tied down to her knees. I love watching her fingers claw desperately at the knots holding each wrist to its opposite elbow so her arms make a triangle behind her back. I settle into my armchair and admire her long blonde hair. It has just enough wave to give it a flowing texture as it cascades over her shoulders from underneath the straps of the gag that's holding her mouth permanently open for my pleasure. At first, I thought I would show some compassion by leaving the rubber plug out of the metal shower drain that's wrapped with electrical tape and jammed between her teeth. But I couldn't afford to let her complaints wake the people in the rooms below my suite. I imagine her large brown eyes trapped behind the darkness of the blindfold, open wide with fury and trepidation. Or perhaps they were closed in silent resignation to her fate. After all, she didn't complain when I first slipped the handcuffs around her wrists more than two hours ago. No, she had been exceptionally willing to do whatever I asked of her. Greed will do that to most people, especially those who get paid on commission. And she had smelled the kind of payoff that gives an inexperienced sales associate instant respect both at work and at the bank. It was random luck that I chose the restaurant where I first saw her; this is my first visit to this particular city and I'm not well-versed in its local cuisine. She was vivacious and pretty, a flaxen dynamo who talked a mile a minute as she explained the intimate details of her work to a friend. Cocking an ear toward their table, I was able to determine the name of her employer, the kind of product she sold, and just how hard a time she was having landing a big account. I also found out her name, but that's not important any more. That very afternoon, I placed a call to her office and described myself as a potential client from overseas who needed a large quantity of the company's product in a very short amount of time. When I was patched into the sales supervisor, I asked for a meeting with one of his reps the next day. I also indicated I was talking to his competitors, and I would be making my decision no later than the following morning. When he told me he would set up an immediate appointment with his top rep named Jim, I hinted broadly that I might be more favorably disposed toward negotiating with someone a little easier on the eyes. Yes, yes, of course, he said brightly as he mentioned the name of my charming young prey from the restaurant. Dear, if you stop wriggling your arms so much, that rope digging into your lovely bottom might be a bit more bearable. Of course she showed up early for our four o'clock meeting at my suite high atop the overpriced hotel I was sure would impress her. I was pleased to see her boss had been forthright about my thinly-veiled expectations. She delivered herself to my door in a fashionable red business suit with a noteworthy hemline, topped off by a sleeveless white turtleneck that clung to every delicious curve of her waist and cleavage. I could easily make out the shape of a quarter-cup bra boosting her ample bosom, the large nipples standing tall and erect as they pushed against the tight material of her shirt. Her legs drifted down in a gauzy black cloud, from bands of elastic and lace to a pair of open-toed high heels that are as fetching as they are slutty. Their dual straps around each ankle conveniently eliminate the need for special locks to hold them on her feet now. After she made a lengthy presentation , followed by a heated discussion of terms, I announced that I couldn't continue another moment without first eating. She happily agreed to join me, so we dined extravagantly, laughing and talking about nothing of consequence while consuming a healthy quantity of spirits. At the conclusion of the meal, I invited her back to my suite and pretended to negotiate further. I could see her desperation increase with every rebuff, but it wasn't until she stroked one of my thighs with the tips of her blood-red fingernails that I knew I had her hooked. I can wait no longer, so I untie the knot around her knees, lift up her head, pop the plug out of the gag, and lower the open hole over my stiffening member. She moans softly as she pokes at the intruder with her tongue. Slowly, I caution her. It would be a grave mistake if it were to somehow fall out of your mouth. She signals her understanding by treating my manhood as if it were the sweetest lollipop she had ever been privileged to lick. When I am satisfied, I tell her she can sit up. She does so gladly, as the movement greatly increases the slack on the rope running down her stomach and under her crotch that tugs insistently on her severely-bound breasts. I had been so pleased to discover she had the kind just heavy enough to allow tying them tightly from behind. Sensing another round of irrelevant objections, I pick up the plug that's dangling on a chain from the shiny rim around her mouth, and push the stiff rubber firmly back into place. What was she going to say? I wish I hadn't shimmied out of my dress quite so quickly? Or maybe I shouldn't have told you to "do whatever you wanted to me" with quite so much conviction? Surprisingly, she continues to fight her bonds, twisting and turning her body as she kneels on the table like an offering to an angry god. Much as I enjoy the show, I know this cannot continue, lest she fall off and cause unwanted damage to herself and my plans for the remainder of my stay. While unbuckling the many straps holding the gag against her head, I bribe her with the promise of water if she keeps completely quiet. She complies, so I allow her to swallow the contents of a tumbler. I can't held admiring the perfect features of her face, even when they're contorted in a hateful glare. With more time, perhaps I could train her to maintain permanent silence, but that won't be the case tonight, so the tube in her mouth will have to be replaced with an oversized penis gag that buckles around her head with four straps. I tell her it's time for a new position, and spin her on the tabletop so she faces away from me. I rebind her arms so her wrists and elbows are pinned together against her back with a half-dozen coils each. Once her legs are freed, I rearrange her limbs so she's lying face down on the table, her compressed breasts squashed even further between the weight of her torso and the hard wood below. I tie together her ankles so they are crossed, then pull them all the way back to her wrists, bending her knees at sharp angles and exposing the delicate regions between her still-stockinged legs. To further accentuate the view, I tie a line around her ankles and attach it to the hasp on the back of the gag. This forces her to stare straight ahead unless she wants to pull her legs up even further, a difficult chore I doubt she will want to attempt. I pick up the remote control for the large-screen television at the other end of the room and preview the selection of pay-per-view movies, finally settling on one that promises 90 minutes of nonstop fornicating by attractive starlets. Although I doubt any will measure up to the beauty of the pinioned damsel lying in breathless apprehension before me, it could nonetheless prove inspiring. Settling back, I reach down under the chair and find my riding crop. I graze its lash along the insides of her thighs, across her buttocks and between her moist folds. Before long, temptation gets the better of me, and my wrist snaps smartly when she least expects it. By the time the film ends, we are both aching for relief. The shower curtain rod makes an excellent spreader bar as she stands against the coffee table with her heel-encumbered feet separated by a yard of steel and excessive amounts of nylon cord. Her arms are bound together at the wrists and ankles, then tied down to the table so they support her weight as she bends over at a 90-degree angle with her ass pushed back just ever so slightly. A simple ball gag completes her imprisonment, which leaves her standing all too accessible to the whims of a man with dark desires. I see no reason not to take advantage of both choices offered to me, and proceed to do so with vigourish and surprising stamina. Finding myself a bit heated at the conclusion of my explorations, I decide to pop downstairs to the bar for a nightcap. Not wanting to be thought a bad host, I arrange a few diversions to occupy my guest during my absence. I seat her in the center of the coffee table, and start by cinching her elbows together behind her back. Then I tie her ankles in a crossed position again, only this time I lash them to her thighs in a pose that suggests meditation. I bind her wrists and attach them with taut lines to her ankles so they're suspended helplessly at her sides. I feel I have been neglecting her breasts, so I circle them individually with several tight windings, then pull the rings of rope together until they are separated by nothing more than a knot. This creates an effect not like those marvelous new Wonderbras I see so many of the young ladies wearing today. I remove the ball gag and substitute a wide wedge of rubber that fits over her rear molars and her tongue. This in turn is held in place with a leather trainer that covers her face from nose to neck. At first she resists, but I feel the tension in her jaws dissipate as I finish securing the laces, leaving her mouth incapable of any function except getting used to the taste. I push her onto her back, but only long enough to slip in an anal plug that compensates for its diminished height with a spacious circumference. When she's upright again, I ensure its permanence with a piece of rope around her waist and between her outstretched thighs. Due to the flatness of her nipples caused by the constricting effect of her breast bondage, it takes an extra moment to properly position the tweezers-like clamps, but once engaged, I am confident they will remain in place until decided otherwise by anyone save her. Long pieces of twine soon trail up from the ends of the clamps to the arm of a ceiling fan directly over her head. I pull the chain three times to set the motor at its slowest speed, then stand back to admire the way her bulging breasts mimic the rotation of the blades as they are pulled back and forth in never-ending circles. I cannot bear to see her look at me with such irritation, so I slip on a padded blindfold that permits a better appreciation of her predicament without visual distractions. When I return, I find she has surrendered to her torments as she's practically bouncing on the table. Alas, I feel the evening must now come to its conclusion so I can guarantee my safe departure. I remove all her bindings except the rope around her breasts and the gag, and lead her to the elegant brass bed in the second room of the suite. She lies down gratefully on the bed, until I flip her onto her stomach, cross her wrists behind her back, and wrap them and her fingers in several yards of duct tape. Rolling her onto her back, I tie long lines to the top of the loops around her breasts and run them back to the opposite ends of the headboard, pulling her luscious globes far apart and up toward her shoulders. I hate to lose such a lovely vibrator, with its clever piece on the bottom that can be positioned to stimulate the user's clitoris, but it seems only fair that she receive an adequate reward for all her exertions on my behalf. Unfortunately, I also have to abandon the butt plug due to some ill-timed disobedience on her part while I work the thick shaft of the vibrator into her other cavity. Once implanted, I wrap a very long piece of rope around the top of her waist, then knot it behind her and pull the ends over the wide circles of plastic where the two openings used to be, the middle of her triangle of trim fur, and finally over the top of the waist line. From there, the ends travel their separate ways in a V to her ankles, which are bound so her legs are bent at a slight angle, then they are tied to the brass posts at the foot of the bed, leaving her pinned and spread in just enough discomfort to pass the coming hours productively. I don't want to lose the gag as well, so as I fill her mouth with her panties and seal her lips with more duct tape. When I am finished, I tell her she's been a delightful playmate, and express my deepest regrets that we cannot continue our entertainment. She writhes in silent disagreement, intensifying her efforts as she watches me insert the plug trailing off the vibrator into an electrical socket on the wall. She soon decides that thrashing her legs only drives the intruders deeper into her quite-filled orifices, so instead she chooses to stare at the ceiling in quiet submission. As the machine hums its happy song inside her, I pack my belongings and include all her clothing as a treasured souvenir. Don't worry, I call out as I prepare to take my leave. Housecleaning will be here no later than noon. Oh, by the way, I took the liberty of having some new business cards printed for you. See, I say as I hold one in front of your eyes. They have your name, your work number, and a little drawing of a woman tied up in a most provocative pose. Here, let me leave some on the bedside table, and maybe a few in your purse. The staff here is no doubt exceptional, so I'm quite sure the maids will call the manager before attempting to free you. Do you think he'll get the wrong idea when he finds this pair of vinyl hotpants and matching halter on the floor? Who knows, maybe he will want to avail himself of your services as well. As I depart, I notice the sign is still hanging from the exterior doorknob. I decide my charming young friend requires no further disturbing this evening, so I leave it as a silent sentry to guard against any premature interruptions. It's been a pleasure doing business with you, I say when I turn off the lights, but a stifled scream is my only thanks. You're welcome, I reply with a smile. The END *************************** http://www.adrianhunter.com Copyright © 1995 by Adrian Hunter. All rights reserved. Please do not repost nor repurpose without permission.
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