by Robert Bishop

Illustrations by Robert Bishop

Originally Published in Bishop on Bondage No. 4

Text of this story downloaded from ASSTR.org

Transcribed and converted by guardian46w

Story Codes: M/f, bond, cons, collar, cuffs, leather, steel, toys, gag, blindfold, tease, X

She felt more naked than if she had actually been naked.  She looked at herself again and turned to see her back in the mirror.  The boots looked sprayed on and were so black that she felt that her gaze could sink beneath the surface.  A rippling series of bright little highlights chased themselves up and down her legs as she moved.  The heels were four inches high, and the tops of the boots ended just barely beneath her crotch.  The opera-length gloves on her arms were of the same material, and just as shiny, and just as tight.

Spectacular as they were though, the boots and the gloves were only accouterments to the literal centerpiece of the ensemble, the suit.  It somewhat resembles the currently fashionable French cut swim suits, except that it was of the same shiny material as her other apparel.  And there were other differences.

Rather than being covered, her breasts jutted firm and round through openings in the suit.  The material immediately around her breasts was thicker and acted as a kind of flexible frame to mold them.  She looked at her breasts in the mirror and then looked directly down at them mounding out below her chin.  She raised one hand and lightly, carefully stroked one of the nipples.  She was astonished at how sensitive they had become and how rock hard they were.  Just from the suit!

She looked in the mirror again.  The really erotic aspect of the suit, though, was at the other end, the crotch.  Or, rather what there was of it.

The crotch was comprised of three parallel narrow strips which descended down her belly.  The two on the outside went down, one on either side of her pussy, through her crotch and up between the cheeks off her buttocks.

The center strap...  ah, the center one, went between the lips of her sex and followed the other two.  The two outside straps were lined with kid leather.  The center one was lined with a six-inch strip of softly firm pink rubber cilia-like fingerlings, and these came into tight and intimate contact with her clitoris.  Walking was an...  interesting experience.

From the top of the suit at the juncture of her striated breasts, a short strap reached up to the bottom of a high, padded collar.  The only part of the thing she didn't understand was the single chrome buckle attached to the front of the garment directly over her belly button.  Doubtless she would soon find out, she told herself with a tiny smile.

“It's...  beautiful,” she said in a somewhat subdued voice.

"We can go out and hang around with the punkers," he said, getting up off the couch where he'd been watching her watch herself.

She cast him a quick over the shoulder don't-hold-your-breath smile.  He gave her a somewhat more predatory look, walked up behind her, and looked at her reflection from over her shoulder.  It was obvious to both of them that she was becoming sexually aroused.  "Turn around," he breathed into her ear.

She did.  He was very close, and her nipples brushed his shirt.

She jerked and gave a tiny gasp.  "God, they were so sensitive!"

He grinned at her and she returned a sheepish smile.  Her body, as always was betraying her.  "Put your hands behind your back and spread your legs." Again, she did as she was told.  He reached out his hands and carefully stroked her nipples.  She arched her neck and sucked in her breath.  When one of his hands with equal subtlety stroked the smooth-shaven twin mounds jutting between the crotch straps, she moaned.

When one large index finger pushed the cilia-laden center strap deep between the lips of her sex, she moaned again and felt her legs begin to go.  The hands went away.  Damn, damn, damn, she thought.

"Turn around.  Keep your hands behind your back."

It begins, she thought.  The cuffs were simple steel bands covered with thick leather.  They fit her wrists exactly and locked together with a small, firm grasp.  First one hand, and then the other.  She felt her hands lifted to the small of her back.  The two cuffs were joined by a snap-fitting at the end of a leather strap.  The other end of the strap was threaded through a buckle at the rear of her collar and was pulled.

Her joined wrists were raised higher and higher up her back until they were right under her shoulder blades.  This much was familiar, at least.  There was more to come.  A short leather strap was buckled around her right ankle.  The other part of the strap was a lot longer and was left unbuckled.  She watched it jouncing from her ankle and wrinkled her nose.  Curious.  The gag was new too.

Apparently of some dense sponge like stuff, the ball was huge, far larger than anything she'd worn before.  She hoped she could get it in her mouth.  She'd better!  She already had her mouth open to accept it, but the gag was simply draped around her neck for the time being.  He had more in mind, it seemed.

"Come" was the simple command.

She turned, guided and propelled by the large hand at her acutely bent elbow, and they went out.  The walk through the rooms were a precarious clatter on the enormous heels.

As for the strap, she made it to the bottom of the stairs, but halfway up she buckled against him and crumpled with a hissing moan.  Large hands at the end of the arms supporting her under the elbows cupped her breasts and twirled the nipples.  She bucked against him again, with another shuddering intake of breath.  Her thighs were soaked.

"You're not supposed to do that yet," came the vaguely annoyed voice.

A quick, vice-like pinch to both nipples straightened her like a shot, but came damn close to setting her off again.  Men just don't understand about a woman's nipples, she thought, still gasping.  Or maybe they do.  They resumed the journey.

---

The playroom was just a short distance down from the head of the stairs, which she thought was very, very fortunate.  They paused as he retrieved a key from his pocket.  She stood at his side in her "attention" position: legs spread wide apart and back arched to present her breasts to him.  Damn, this is gonna be close, she thought to herself.

That damned strap!

The room was cool and smelled of leather and sex.  And it was pitch dark.  He walked out nearly to the center of the room and stopped her.  She went to "attention" and he walked into the blackness.  A bit of melodrama, she thought.

With an industrial strength "clack," a 500 watt spotlight on the ceiling went on.  Her eyes had only just begun getting used to the gloom, and the light was like an atomic bomb going off.  She scrunched her eyes closed and yelped.  After a second or two, she cautiously peeked them open and got the second surprise he'd promised her for the evening.

The suit had been...  well, spectacular.

This was..." She began to turn towards him in gleeful outrage.  "Why you..."

And he was there, tiger-like in his silence as he snuck up on her.  The enormous gag was already being pressed to her lips as she completed her turn.  She never got another word out.  He packed and wadded and pushed the material until it was entirely in her mouth and then spun her around to buckle the strap.  He gazed at her "surprise" as the strap sunk into her cheeks and her lips were drawn tightly into the gag.

Surprise number two was a dildo.  A large dildo set on the end of a pole sticking straight up out of the floor.  Its vertical length could be varied, she immediately noticed.  A broad leather strap at about knee level was obviously for her legs.  And from the front of the base of the dildo another strap dangled.  And she suddenly knew what the odd buckle on the front of her suit was for!

He finished with the gag and walked around to face her.  The dildo-pole was between them.  He gazed at her with obvious pleasure, she liked the present!  He stooped and loosened a thumb-screw near the base of the pole.  The dildo sank.

Still stooped, he looked up at her.  She knew what to do.  She walked forward until she was directly over the head of the dildo.  It was very pink and VERY large.  He smiled up at her and ran one soft, warm hand over her crotch, between her legs, and up her butt, and released the center strap from its buckle.

Lubrication was certainly no problem, she thought to herself.  It was smooth as glass and warm, and slid into her with one slow, continuous surge.  It was huge, and she felt wonderfully stretched around it.  It was another straw on the camel's back, she spasmed before its full length was in her.  Far from being irritated, he was openly enjoying her pleasure even as he threaded the strap at the base of the dildo through the buckle at her navel.

---

There was another full-length mirror before her, and as he began threading the buckle, she could see that this strap, too, had more of the damnable, inescapable, wonderful rubber cilia!  He noticed her discovery, and gave her arched eyebrows, and a self-congratulatory smirk as he walked around behind her.

“Hell, lady, I think of everything!”

He brought her legs together to buckle her knees, and as she went from "attention" to standing erect, she got taller.  The strap attached to the dildo and her suit obligingly pulled the dildo further up to suit the change in vertical height.  The cilia in the strap sunk deeper into her puss, and she almost spasmed again.  The broad band crushed her knees together, and the other loop at her ankles went clear around the pole and pinioned her other ankle to it.

He walked around and around, looking.  Incredible, he thought.  Absolutely fucking incredible.  She stood bolt upright, a thin sheen of sweat covering her body where it wasn't covered by leather.  The dildo was completely encased in her belly with the strap erupting out between the smooth pink mounds of her mons and proceeding up a deep furrow to its buckle on the suit.  She could, he knew, by dint of standing on her tiptoes against the securing straps, raise or lower herself fractionally on the dildo.  An entertaining internal friction, he imagined.  Also, every twitch, every spasm no matter how small brought the devilish cilia into full play.
With her wrists snuggled behind her back, there was no way she was going to get away from them either.  But there were three more touches he still wanted to add.

First, the gag, if a gag is good, a little overkill is even better!  He brought over three feet of overkill.  It was an elastic bandage four inches in width and adhesive on one side.  As he smoothed the end on her left cheek and pulled it tightly over her mouth and the other cheek, she spasmed yet again, and he paused until she stilled, then proceeded using up the rest of the tape.  When he was done, the bottom half of her face had disappeared under an apparently seamless smooth band of white.  Her cheeks bulged over the top of the band.

The second to last thing was the riding crop.  He pecked her gently on one nipple until she opened her eyes, and he watched her recoil with a smile from ear to ear as she focused on the thing in his hands.  The handle of the crop had a tiny loop of cord, and this he used to hang it from one engorged nipple.  She made tiny cries of pleasure from behind the gag.  He wanted her to know her much loved friend was close at her side.  It dangled from her breast, swinging in gentle arcs.

The third and final act was a blindfold, thick and heavy and leather.

Without her eyes, she could spend all her time concentrating on her other senses, particularly her sense of touch.  He would drop in from time to time and give the most delicate, the subtlest of kisses with the crop, and many other things, and she'd never know when or where they were coming from.  It would be a long and wonderful night for her, and when he released her from the pole sometime during the coming day, she'd be intimately aware that the term "ONE NIGHT STAND" could have many connotations!