by Jeff Sinclair
Originally published in Bondage Parade Number 37
transcribed by guardian46w
Story codes: Sbf, M/f, bondage, public, cons, rom, gag, handcuffs, tape, stocking, heels, trunk, X
Jennifer stood before the floor-length mirror, listening to the ice-cold rain and stroking her nipples, and sighed in pleasure. She shivered sensually and caressed her silken belly. Hair tumbled over her shoulders in a feathery golden mass, and she crooned as her fingers twined in the soft, curly wedge which proved it was her natural color. She wore a sexy little garter belt, white nylons, high-heeled shoes… and a leather color. That was all.
She leaned closer to the mirror, pleased with the pouting rose of her painted mouth, the rose which whispered so eloquently and accurately of the bottomless sensuality which was so much a part of her. She studied her startling, sky-blue eyes with narcissistic pleasure, and turned to admire her nakedness in profile, squeezing her breasts. They weren't huge, but she was a sword-slim, delicate girl, and they were firm and shapely.
She pouted at her reflection, but time was pressing, and she wrapped the long lambs-wool muffler about her slender throat, quivering with the tactile joy of its soft caress. It hid her collar and hung down over her breasts, and she rubbed it over her nipples. Then she shook herself and reached for the knee-length coat of shining black leather.
She shrugged into it, crooning as the fur lining caressed her skin. She buttoned it slowly, looking at herself in the mirror as her nakedness vanished under it, then pirouetted gracefully. Her golden hair glowed as it spilled over the shoulders of her coat, and she smiled at the effect, purring as the fur lining stroked her like a lover's hand.
A honking horn interrupted her sensual contemplation, and she snatched up her purse. She turned from the mirror, walking quickly, feeling the hot throb between her thighs as she opened the front door and stepped out into the rain. Icy air swirled up under her coat as she hurried down the walk to the waiting taxi. The bored cabby stiffened in his seat as he saw her, then climbed out into the rain to open the door, beaming. Jennifer hid a giggle and wondered how he'd have reacted if he'd known she was naked under her coat? Or, better yet, why?
She slid into the seat, squirming slightly as hot trickles of arousal leaked down between her thighs. The driver climbed back behind the wheel, and she smiled pleasantly at him. "The bus station, please," she said, in her, soft, sweet contralto, and the cab hissed off down the rain-slick pavement.
Jennifer bought her ticket and found a chair in the waiting room. The terminal was half-empty this late, rainy afternoon, but three different men tried to chat with the lovely blonde. There was something about her, the sparkle in her eyes, perhaps, or the brooding passion of her mouth, which drew them like moths, but she brushed them off gently. The light in her eyes was for someone else, and she pressed her thighs together on the heat between them, tingling with the excitement of her adventure. One or two people eyed her as if they wondered why she kept her coat tightly buttoned in the overheated terminal. She ignored them, but only outwardly; inside, she chuckled, nipples hard against the coat's soft lining as her imagination pictured their reaction if she had unbuttoned it.
Her bus was thirty minutes late, and she enjoyed every delicious moment of her wait, but it arrived, at last. She joined the passengers lining up to board, and a middle-aged man waved her gallantly ahead of him. The sparkling smile she bestowed upon him in thanks made his stodgy week.
She found a window seat and sat staring out into the rain. A matronly woman sat beside her, and she was just as happy. She wouldn't have wanted to spend the two-hour trip beside a man. The sweet frustration of her anticipation might have turned unbearable... and she might have slipped and revealed it.
The trip was endless. The wheels' vibration burned in her bones, and it was hot on the bus, but that was good. She felt the sweat greasing her naked skin under her heavy coat, and she reached into her coat to caress a sweat-slick nipple pouting out the window. The bus was not express, she'd made sure of that, and the trip was almost too wonderful. It took so long, and she burned hotter with every minute. When they finally arrived, she pushed almost rudely through the other debarking passengers and hurried into the terminal to call another cab.
This cabby regarded her with a knowing expression when she gave him the address on the slip of paper in her purse and he noted her lack of luggage. She looked back innocently, fighting another giggle as he drew the inevitable conclusion. A beautiful woman with no bags could be going to an isolated motel for only one reason, after all.
It was after eight when she finally climbed out of the cab. Rain pounded down, colder than ever, soaking the inky winter night, and she smiled. She had one more thing to do, and wicked as her adventure made her feel, she was glad she had the privacy of such darkness to do it in.
She crossed the deserted parking lot, wishing she'd brought an umbrella as rain soaked her golden hair. But, no, this would be even better. Wet hair would look so sexy when she arrived.
She checked room numbers carefully, and there it was right where she'd been told, on the ground-floor room near the stairs in a back corner.
She stepped into the darkness under the stairs and looked around nervously as she reached into a coat pocket. There was no one in sight, and she was all but invisible, anyway, but she still felt a stab of anxiety as she extracted the ball gag.
She bent her head, working the fat ball into her mouth. It was hard, the gag was about the biggest she could manage – but she got it in and buckled the strap under her hair. She straightened, her mouth stretched in silence, and reached into her other pocket.
The handcuffs were chill as she closed them on her left wrist. Then she reached back, closing her eyes in soft, excited urgency. Steel clicked, and she sighed as her hands were locked behind her.
She peeked around the edge of the stairs once more, only to shrink back with a gagged squeak as a man came toward her. She pressed her cuffed hands to the wall of the building, cowering as deep in the shadows as she could, hardly breathing, around the cloud of her anxiety. But he climbed the stairs without even glancing in her direction, and she moaned in relief as he disappeared. She peeked out again, her pulse still thundering, and when she saw no one else, scurried the ten feet to the waiting motel door.
She stood for just a moment, eyes closed, tasting the burning arousal of her willing captivity. Then she kicked the door gently, knocking in the only way she could, and waited.
It seemed to take forever before a tall, dark-haired man opened the door. She tried to scurry inside, but he stands blocking her way and smiling at her. She tossed her head, whining through her gag to demand entry, but his smile only broadened and she felt her wet thighs quiver. Her whine became a pleading little moan and she looked anxiously over her shoulder. The room light silhouetted her if anyone happened to be looking, and her close encounter with the unknown man on the stairs had made her doubly aware of the chance of her detection. She was terrified. Someone might guess what was happening. It was unlikely, of course, who could possibly suspect the truth? But even unlikely things happen, and she whimpered as he continued to stand in her way.
He only smiled, and then he reached out and began unbuttoning her coat! Jennifer wailed softly and tried to jerk away. He couldn't do that! Not, while she was still standing outside where anyone could see!
But, he could. One hand held her effortlessly by her coat while the other slowly and gloatingly opened its buttons. She whimpered, eyes closed, and the icy caress of the rainy air only made her inner fires hotter. He tugged away her muffler, baring her collar, and pushed her coat open. No one but he could possibly see her front, but her breath hissed in her flared nostrils as she panted in panic. Someone might see! And if they did…!
Then she met his eyes and froze. They burned as they devoured her totally unanticipated nakedness, and she trembled like a drawn bow. He reached out, caressing her naked shoulder, running his sensual finger gently through the rain-soaked golden silk of her hair. His touch and the fire in his eyes engulfed her, and she moaned hotly and curved her spine seductively, rounding her naked, sweating breast.
A hand barely warmer than the icy air caressed them. Another hand stroked down her naked flank to thrust gently between her thighs, and she groaned in her throat as he squeezed gently. Her excitement wept into his palm.
And then, finally, he stepped aside and let her cross the threshold on legs weak and trembling with excitement. The door closed behind her, shutting out the night, and she was alone with her husband at last.
Alex Jackson leaned back against the door, eyes hot as his wife turned to face him in the motel room. Her coat had fallen off one shoulder, making her look even more naked, and golden strands of rain-wet hair, fell over her face and plastered to her collared throat and the swells of her breast. He'd never seen a sexier vision, and he raised the hand which had caressed her loins, sniffing its dampness, and watched her eyes flame.
He still said nothing, watching her, drinking up her loveliness and feeling his silence fan her excitement. Her trip to meet him had been his idea, but the way she'd decided to deliver herself had stunned him. He felt her beauty calling to him, touching him with silken desire, and one look at her face when he opened the door told him how her trip affected her. She was almost weeping with the fire inside, her nipples hard and erect, swollen petals half-opened and wet. He could taste her hunger. And that meant there was no hurry. No hurry at all. The longer he made her wait, the hotter they both would burn.
He turned and hooked the security chain on the door, then walked past her, still without a word, smiling at the tiny, eager sounds leaking through her gag. Alex was his firm's top field man, and the last two days had been hell as he worked through unexpected bugs, hardware and software alike, in a client's new system. He'd been exhausted, ready to drop... but he felt suddenly like a new man, burning with energy, and he knew why.
He leaned over one of the two trunks on the motel carpet. They wore the logo of his company, but that was a tiny lie, claiming they were full of expensive electronics made it reasonable to have them hauled into his room so he could "keep an eye on them." In fact, the larger one was empty except for the steel rings fastened into its bottom. Shiny rings, just right for anchoring s sweet, soft someone inside her mobile prison. But the one he opened was filled to the brim with coiled ropes, shining leather straps, gags, spreader bars, a bondage helmet, etc.
Jennifer whimpered behind him, standing motionless, waiting to discover what he intended, and he smiled down at their toys. He stroked another gag, chuckling softly as he realized how grateful she was for the one she already wore. Jennifer was a noisy lover, and motel walls were thin. One of her deepest, and most exciting, fear was someone would hear her squeals of passion.
And she was right to worry, he thought tenderly. He knew his Jennifer, and she was going to be noisy,
very noisy, before he was done.
He withdrew a paper bag and set it on the bed, then methodically closed and re-latched the trunk. Slow, deliberate preparations always excited his sweet wife, and that was especially true tonight. When he rose and dusted his hands her eyes were like two blue furnaces.
He picked up the bag, spoke for the first time
"My, my!" he said softly. "I told the madam I wanted something special tonight, and just look at what she sent me." He reached out and caressed Jennifer's cheek, watching her eyes glow as she realized he'd cast her in the very role she'd wanted to play. "But, she did tell you I had some rather special demands, didn't she?" he purred, and his lovely wife nodded, nodded with an artfully assumed air of anxiety.
"That's good," he said, "because I'm very demanding, my dear. That's why I need a hooker in the first place. Of course, if my wife ever found out how I carry on with you ladies... " he grinned as she giggled, " ...she'd have a fit. She's no fun at all." Jennifer made an indignant sound, and he chuckled.
"I, however, am not at all repressed, and I imagine you'll earn your fee before I'm done. But, I'd advise you to be very, very obedient, because I can be a bit nasty if I don't get my way. Is that understood?"
Jennifer's hips shifted as she clasped her thighs together. She nodded, a slow nod with just the right edge of nervous submissiveness.
"Good. I think we'll just leave that gag for now, you'll probably be noisy and, frankly, I'm not paying you to talk."
She nodded again, trembling at the soft promise in his voice, and he reached into his trouser pocket. He extracted his key ring and sorted through the keys slowly until he found the one to her handcuffs, then turned her with a fine, demanding impatience. He unlocked her cuffs and tossed them aside, and her coat slithered down and off.
She raised on hand to her gag, and he slapped it gently.
"Leave that alone," he commanded, and her hand fell instantly. He nodded and spilled his paper bag over the bed, and Jennifer crooned as she saw the rolls and rolls of adhesive tape.
He reached out and caught her by one satin thigh, drawing her close. His hairy hand spanned it easily, sliding in the flow of her arousal, and her head lashed. She moaned, throbbing at his touch, and he pushed her belly-down over the motel bed. She lay across the spread, trembling, and her swollen petals winked up at him between her parted legs.
He knelt across her, resting about half his weight on her satin bottom, and she felt his erection against her spine. He reached for her wrists, and drawing them behind her and crossing them. They were lax and trusting in his grip, but he felt them tremble with excitement as he opened a roll of tape. Jennifer loved tape bondage, loved the tight, stringent bite of the adhesive and the way it sealed itself to her silken skin like yet another lover.
He taped her wrists tightly, then used two vertical turns to cinch them even more tightly. She moaned, hands clenching and opening, fingers stroking against his fly, and he trembled with pleasure of his own but pushed them aside once more.
"Stop that," he commanded, and she pressed her face into the spread, trembling in instant obedience. "Better," he said, and got off her, wrapping a hand in her wet hair and holding the roll of tape still attached to her wrists in the other. He tugged, gently but with authority, and she rose to kneel on the bed. He looked over her shoulder and saw her staring at herself in the mirror she faced. And then her eyes closed dreamily, and he smiled and pressed her hands firmly against her spin, unrolling more tape. She shifted on her knees as tape licked around her, sticking to her skin, taping her crossed wrists to the small of her back. The white adhesive gleamed as he drew it tight, sinking it into her belly, winding it around her. He used the entire roll, and when he was done, her hands were wedded inescapably to her spine.
He watched her panting belly flutter, indented by the tape, and nodded. Then he opened another roll and wrapped its end around her right elbow. The tearing sound of unrolling tape filled her ears. He wound it around her, sealing her elbows against her ribs, and her skin dance under his fingers as she voiced her excitement. He lay her on the bed. "Be quiet!" he commanded, and she tried. She really tried, but her hot little sounds were too burning and eager to mute entirely. Alex didn't mind. He'd only given the command to make her more aware of them.
He gripped her garter belt in both hands, dragging it over her hips, and she shuddered as he stripped her stocking down her beautiful legs. He gave a final jerk, and her shoes thudded to the carpet as the nylon whipped off her dainty feet. He tossed her nylons and garter belt away, and they fell over her hair, draping her head. His own passion rose as her head turned slowly, rubbing her check against them. He wanted to take her then and there, but he called himself sternly to task and gripped her ankles.
She grunted in surprise as he bent her legs sharply and pressed the soles of her feet together, and her hips rolled slowly. Jennifer loved stringent bondage, but her straining legs tried to straighten involuntarily and she slid over the bed. She crooned a soft apology, trying to stop herself from moving, but it was impossible, and he clucked and picked her up. She moaned as he dropped her again, the top of her head pressing against the headboard, and forced her feet together once more. This time she couldn't slide, and he braced them together with a thigh while he wrapped tape around her right ankle.
She panted as he taped her feet sole to sole. He used two full rolls of tape, building a thick, multi-ply collar that reached halfway up her calves. When he was done, she couldn't relax her legs at all; even her ankles were stiff and inflexible, and her position opened her thigh to their widest extent.
He nodded in satisfaction, but he wasn't done yet, and he picked up yet another roll. She whimpered uncertainly, wondering, and he smiled as he wound several turns of tape around her wrists just above the bands sealing them to her back. Then he gripped her pinioned ankles in one hand and raised them from the bed. He lifted them, not easily, as tightly as her legs were strained, and she moaned as the tape from her wrists licked down around them. She whimpered, shaking her head pleadingly, yet he knew as well as she, that she was pleading only to be denied, and he ignored her.
He wound her bonds tight, arching her body tautly, hog tying her with white, sticky tape. Her feet were bare inches from her wrists, and when he stood back at last her shoulders and legs were both raised from the bed. Her weight rested on her panting belly and pelvis, and her head drooped forward in a confusion of discarded lingerie and the wild, disheveled tangles of her wet golden hair. She could barely even squirm, and she whimpered happily in the strain of her bondage.
"There!" he said, and she gasped as he picked her up once more. He lifted her and turned her on her back, and she groaned. She lay on her arms and the platform of her straining legs, only her shoulders and the taped calves touching the bedspread, body arched and taut, and her nipples pointed arrogantly at the ceiling. He laughed as her head lashed, and then his hands swept over her.
Jennifer bucked as skilled fingers painted fire into her flesh and he caressed her hot, wet core. He laughed and bent over her, kissing her gasping belly, licking her navel, nibbling her breasts and nipping her nipples. Teeth plucked at the golden curls of her crotch, and she keened in frantic need, her fires, bringing her to the gasping brink of orgasm again and again and again but never letting her cum.
She sobbed for mercy, as noisily as he'd said she would be, but there was no mercy, and all she really wanted was to blaze. To seethe cloaked in the incense of her arousal, urgent and gleaming with sweat as he tormented her with pleasure denied.
He laughed, and she writhed, sobbing and desperate as his hands and mouth left her. She opened her eyes, eyes half mad with passion, burning like two wet sapphires, and he smiled. She stared hotly at the bulging swell of his erection, knowing how badly he wanted her, knowing he could take her in a few quick strokes, quenching their shared fire in sweet, sweet pleasure. But he stepped back and stretched, yawning deliberately, and she moaned.
"This motel has room service, you know," he said idly, "and I haven't had supper yet. I really think I ought to do something about that before I worry about less important stuff, don't you agree?"
She wailed, writhing, fighting her bonds, as she shook her head frantically, and he grinned.
"Well I think so, and I'm in charge," he said softly, and she wept in glorious, unendurable fire as he picked up the phone and dialed.
"Room service, please," he said into the phone, standing with his back to her. He ignored her with splendid lordliness, but his eyes were hot upon her in the mirror she could no longer see as she writhed behind him. "Room service? This is Mister Jackson in One-Eighteen. Is the kitchen still open? Good, in that case I'd like a T-bone, rare, with baked potato, and a salad with ranch dressing. Fifteen minutes? That'll be fine, thank you."
He hung up then turned back to his frantic, quivering wife.
"Supper'll be here in fifteen minutes," he said sweetly. "I suppose I might spend a few minutes doing something about you, but they could be early, so I'd better get you tucked out of sight, instead. This is a reputable motel, after all. They might not approve."
She moaned, huge eyes imploring, and he smiled. Then he opened the empty trunk, picked her up and deposited her in it. She was a petite woman and it was a very large trunk, yet even so it was a tight fit with her legs spread so wide. But, he managed to fit her in on her back and snapped a short chain to her collar. He hooked it to a ring in the bottom of the trunk and dropped her stocking on top of her. He tucked her shoes down at her sides, then he picked up her coat, and she heaved against her bonds, hips thrusting frantically at him in a shameless attempt to buy an orgasm.
He shook his head.
"You're certainly carrying on," he said severely, "and they might hear you, you know." She burned magenta clear down over her heaving breasts, but the fire inside her flared even higher at the thought. "Well, I wouldn't want you to think I'm not a nice guy or anything," he mused, "so maybe I will do a little something for you."
She sobbed, chain rattling as she nodded frantically, then wailed as he grinned and produced the batter-powered vibrator. She twisted desperately, but escape was impossible, and he leaned over her, spreading her petals gently…
"There!" he said again, and even through her own madness of passion she heard the tenderness in his deliberately unconcerned voice. He smiled again, and then her leather coat slithered down over her, cold and slick against her furnace-hot skin, and the trunk closed.
She writhed around the vibrator, crooning and groaning in the confines of her trunk. Already it was thick with the smell of her passion, and she fought her sounds hopelessly, knowing she could never suppress them.
Alex listened to the unmistakable sounds coming through the closed trunk's air holes and shook his head. Poor thing. He almost felt like canceling his supper order, but she'd never forgive him. So, he turned on the TV, instead, adjusting the volume until it buried her sounds, and cleared his briefcase off the desk in readiness for his meal.
Much, much later that night, gloriously exhausted, but fulfilled, Jennifer was still rigorously taped but ungagged at last, lay on her belly between her husband's legs. Alex smiled down at the crown of her golden head. He leaned forward, reaching down the length of her body, and she crooned around him as his finger cupped her satin bottom, then burrowed between her straining thighs to massage her soft petals. She crooned louder as two fingers slipped in and wiggled gently, stroking from within.
"Well, this has certainly been a good start," he said, the complacency of his tone blurred by his own pleasure despite himself. "Fortunately, I've got a two-day break, and I think I'll just spend it here. We'll have to let the maid in, of course, but it's not like you've got a lot of luggage she'll notice. I'll just tuck you back in your little carrying case, and you can be very, very quiet while she works. You'll like that, won't you?"
She moaned in agreement, and he moaned in reply as his passion rose. He fell back, resting a hand on her moving head and arching his hips.
"And then," he said more thickly, "I've got three more stops before I can head home, so I'll just take you along. I'll check in early and drop your box off in the room before I go to see my clients. Then when I come back from the job, I can unpack you again. That'll be nice."
Jennifer's nerves crawled with the delight of what he proposed, what he'd never suggested he might do when they first set this up! She'd never imagined anything like that! The back of her mind burned with the possibilities, but only the back, for her ministrations were about to be rewarded.
He gasped, twitching and shuddering in her mouth, and she crooned lovingly to him. His hands gripped her head. Then he exploded, and she moaned in bliss as she drew his pleasure from him.
She felt the resurgent fire of her own passion. Five days. At least five days in her trunk! And that meant at least five night of motel rooms and passion!
She sighed as he softened in her mouth, then raised her head, letting him free. She licked her lips slowly, resting her head upon him and stroking his phallus with her cheek.
"I think that sounds wonderful," she said softly, and turned her head to kiss his thigh lovingly.
THE END