by Jeff Sinclair

Illustration by Tarsis

Originally Published in Bondage Parade No. 34

Transcribed and Scanned by guardian46w

Story Codes: M/f, Sbf, bond, cons, love, cuffs, gag, sex, X

Richard Allen parked his car and carefully locked the doors before he turned towards the house with a smile of anticipation.  He made himself walk slowly, savoring the last few moments of pleasure postponed.  The window in the spare bedroom was dimly lit, but that bedroom never held guests.  It was where he and Samantha played their private games.

The spring night was cool and breezy, the chorus of early frogs from the small stream loud but somehow soothing in the darkness.  He was late, but Samantha would understand about deadline pressure.  She understood everything about him.  He still wondered what she had seen in him when they first met, but he had learned to accept his incredible good fortune.

He opened the front door quietly, without calling out a greeting as he usually did.  He had a three-day weekend, and those rare events were treasured mutually.  Samantha was waiting for him in their private preserve.

He climbed the stairs slowly, enjoying the very last instants of anticipation and wonder.  What had she arranged?  How would she be dressed?  Or would she be dressed at all?  He never knew, and that was part of the beauty of it.  Samantha created bondage symphonies with her appearance, then left him to fill in the score as he chose.  It worked, and their mutual uncertainty as to exactly what would happen was part of the secret magic of their love.

He opened the door quietly and drew a deep breath of pleasure as he saw his wife at last.

She wore a black silk chemise that shimmered in the dim light of the single lamp.  Her long black hair was loose, spilling down over her shoulders and spine in a mass of spun sable silk.  Her gray eyes glinted in the light under curly lashes boldly etched in sooty ovals of cosmetics.  Her arms were stretched above her head, held there by the leather cuffs she had locked upon them.  A long, gleaming chain ran from her cuffs through the ceiling ringbolt, and her slender ankles wore matching cuffs.  A bridle gag filled her mouth, the leather bit between her pearly teeth.  She tossed her head, shaking hair from her face as she saw him in the open door, and a smile glimmered in the depths of her gray eyes.
Richard stood very still, treasuring her beauty.  The silk chemise clung to her slender beauty like a second skin, her proud nipples pert as cherries under it.  Her ripe breasts were rounded by her posture, and he saw tiny trickles of perspiration dewing under her ivory thighs beneath the short hem.  Obviously she had been awaiting him for some time, but the warmth in her eyes told him she found her wait worthwhile, and he felt ten feet tall as they smiled her welcome.

He stepped through the door into a secret someplace, a mysterious sanctuary where nothing existed for him but the magic of her, where the alluring spell of her willingly captive loveliness ensnared him utterly.

He came close to her, and his nostrils flared as he smelled her delicate perfume, the sharp scent of the perspiration dewing her flesh, and the rising incense of her desire.  His own hunger roused to meet hers, and he took her in his arms, holding her close.  His hands stroked her shoulders like moths, gliding down her spine, cupping the firm smoothness of her bottom.  He rubbed against her, and his lips caressed her forehead and moved down to kiss her fluttering eyes.  He tasted her sweat on his lips and another electric shock jolted through his system.  She pressed her gagged mouth against his throat, stroking him with loving tenderness in return, and his hands slid from her bottom to her thighs.

The silken skin shuddered under his gentle, teasing caress.  He stroked the firm, flawless ivory with knowing fingers, feeling the tremors of delight coursing through her.  Her head went back, her throat arching as her supple body squirmed in sinuous pleasure.  His fingers stroked higher, cool on the burning skin of her inner thighs, sliding in the wet proof of her arousal.  Higher, and she gasped, jerking and whining as his fingers touched the soft nakedness of her loins and a nova-like climax stabbed through her.  He kissed her straining throat tenderly above the collar and stroked her again, savoring her gagged wail of bliss as another, fiercer bout of pleasure flared within her empty womb.  Another!

Richard laughed softly as he nuzzled the spastic column of her arched throat and sent mini-burst after mini-burst of passion through her.  He loved her so!  And he knew her so well.  The kiss of leather on wrists and ankles, the long wait for him, the eroticism of her joyous submission - they had combined within her like gasoline, fueling her passion.  He stroked her again, and she gasped in fresh pleasure, her head lashing.  He could stroke her so forever, and she would explode forever, but both of them knew her tiny explosions were mere shadows of the volcanic eruption which awaited them both.

He kept her shuddering in bliss for long minutes of gentle teasing and stroking, then took his hands away and stood back.  Her head rose slowly, her eyes hazy with pleasure, and she purred, arching her spine and preening under his eyes as she delighted in his possessive love.  He smiled and kissed her again, then turned away to inspect the room.

The wide, firm bed beckoned to him, freshly made with black satin sheets.  That was her motif for the night, he thought.  Midnight blackness - a setting of sable for the ivory of her perfect body.  He nodded his approval of her taste and opened the varnished wooden chest that held their toys.

Coiled straps and gleaming chains glimmered in the dim light, and he stroked them with light finger tips, savoring the latent constraint within them.  It was so odd, he thought dreamily.  The more strictly he confined her, the more utterly she was stilled and pinioned in bondage, the wilder and freer her sexuality blazed.  They had started so gently, and gentle tenderness was still all important, but the bondage had become stricter with the months and years of their love.  It was her idea as much as his.  He never knew when he'd open the chest and find some new bondage toy within it.  Like tonight.

He spied the new arrival and lifted it to examine it.  It was a body harness of black leather, the straps wide and thick.  A new single glove lay beneath it, and he smiled.  Samantha had been shopping again, he thought lovingly, and laid her new acquisitions on the bed before turning back to her.

Samantha stared at him, her excitement evident in her rapidly heaving breasts under the thin silk.  He reached down and stroked the leather, and she nodded in approval of his choices.  He laughed gently and took the keys from the dresser, opening her wrist cuffs.

She swayed as her arms dropped at last, and then she was in his embrace once more, molding her lithe softness to his larger frame, pressing herself against him hungrily.  He kissed and caressed her lovingly, then lifted her in his arms and carried her toward the bed and her waiting bondage.

She was as eager as he, and when he gripped the hem of her chemise she stood statue-still, her eyes burning into his as he gently raised the garment and drew it off over her head.  Her splendid nakedness filled his eyes.  The ripe swells of her creamy breasts rose blue-veined to the coral summits of her hard nipples.  Her waist narrowed sweetly, then flared into supple hips.  Her belly was butter smooth but flat and firm, and he felt muscles quiver under its skin as he caressed it gently.  A rich black triangle of silk crowned her mound like a Zulu shield, and he trailed his fingers ticklishly through it, watching her thighs shudder and shift while she purred.

He picked up the body harness and she stood happily as he fitted it about her.  One strap buckled snugly around her slender waist, two more about each thigh, one under her ripe breasts and one above them.  They didn't restrict her in any way, but they garnished her slender limbs and delicate torso with severity, like a jeweler's finest filigree setting.  Yet that setting could be made still more perfect, and he lifted the single glove with a smile.

She turned eagerly, reaching her arms behind her as he drew the laced binding up over them.  She purred again - a happy, tender sound through her gag - as he looped the top strap through her armpits and buckled it.  Then he tightened the lacing slowly, taking an even strain.  Her breathing harshened as the leather clasped her arms, pinning her wrists, drawing her elbows together.  Samantha was one of those rare treasures among women who can touch their elbows together without discomfort, and she loved the stringent captivity of being bound so.  Richard drew the laces fully tight, tying them off and parting her hair to kiss the back of her neck.  She shuddered with delight as he ran the tip of his tongue along the upper edge of her collar, then crooned in bliss as he looped a heavy strap around her thighs and latched the end of the single glove to it.  He turned her back to face him, and her rich breasts thrust even more proudly as her shoulders were drawn back by the glove and its anchorage.  He sat on the bed and stood between her knees, lavishing slow, tormenting kisses on her breasts and belly.  She moaned with pleasure and need, twitching in her restraints, begging for mercy as he fanned her flames excruciatingly, yet delighted to burn unquenched forever.

He chuckled lovingly and lifted her once more, laying her on her back on the bed.  He aligned her down the center of the black satin sea, her spine arching with her arms behind her, her breasts flattening sweetly while their hard pink summit thrust smolderingly up.

He looped another strap around her ankles, pinning her feet, locking her ankle chains to the foot board.  Then he knelt on the bed and laced a chain leash through the headboard, snapping it to her collar and shortening it to hold her pent upon the altar of the bed like some precious sacrifice to their burning sexuality.  She stared up at him lovingly, murmuring gagged endearments as he burnished her sweating skin with his fingers.

He dallied with her for long, sweet minutes, bringing her once more to the explosion point without quite pushing her past it.  Her skin gleamed with the sweat of passion, and she whimpered with her need as he took his hands away at last and slowly, tauntingly, removed his own clothing.  Her eyes clung to him from the prison of the bed as he bared himself slowly, and they glowed with anticipation as he stroked his rigid erection.  But he turned away, savoring her gagged little moan of happy disappointment as he rummaged once more in the chest.

He found what he sought: the leather blindfold and the ear plugs.  He returned to his helpless wife, and her eyes lit at what he held.  She raised her head eagerly as he slipped the blindfold into place and secured it gently but firmly, sealing her eyes.  Then he licked the ear plugs, lubricating them thoroughly, and slipped them gently into her ears, sealing them as well.

Samantha lay still and quivered nakedly, constrained so tightly she could do little else.  She was blind, deaf and mute, stripped of the ability to speak and of all senses but that of feel.  She vibrated with delight as blindfold and ear plugs narrowed her world to the delicious, tactile sensations blazing in her burning skin.

Richard smiled down at her as he carefully raised her and slid a small bolster under her hips, raising them still higher.  Then he bent back to the chest for a bottle of oil and poured it into his hands.  He let it trickle between his fingers into her fluttering navel, and she groaned with pleasure at the thick, sensual kiss of it.

When his hands settled upon her, massaging the oil into her smooth skin, her groans became whimpers of bliss and searing need.  She squirmed.  She wiggled.  She thrust herself against his palms as they cupped her oily breasts.  Her hips lifted imploring, begging for his caresses and he bent above her, stroking with his tongue until she shrilled her delight through the gag and whip lashed in pleasure.

He smiled at her sounds and slid an oily finger into her core, feeling her silken muscles squeeze upon it.  He stroked gently, building her fires once more, and her sounds of pleasure changed their note.  He knew the sound she made.  She was ready once more, but she wanted him to share her pleasure, and he rose on his knees, straddling her strapped thighs.  He leaned gently forward, sliding his iron and velvet length over her oiled skin, and she shuddered in happy anticipation.

He entered her carefully, considerate of her strapped thighs, savoring her moan of happiness as he filled her.  He collapsed forward, supporting his weight on his elbows, grazing her nipples tauntingly with his chest, moving with exquisite slowness despite her urgent whimpers.  Her hips jerked to the full scope allowed by her bounds, seeking to impale herself fully, but he controlled the pace of their love making.  He worked slowly, gently, and Samantha sobbed in gagged pleasure.

Their loving was long and slow - a soft, gentle torment that spread its wings to envelop them both.  He gasped with his own need, shuddering with the mounting fire within him, feeling the volcano within her growing to meet him, yet he held to his slow, delicate pace, stretching them both on the delicious rack of their desire until their fusing passion became irresistible.

He abandoned restraint, clasping her close, crushing her with his weight, and she warbled her gagged delight against his chest, her blindfolded head lashing wildly as he delivered them both to the driving thunder of orgasm.  Star bursts of pleasure burst within them like magnesium flares, searing them, reducing them to drifting ash, and then she felt him explode within her.

Her own passion answered his, whip lashing up out of her marrow, and she shrilled her triumph through her gag in a high, whining squeal of completion.  The slow-stoked furnace roared within her and the sweet, sweet mini-death of pleasure claimed them both.

---

Richard rolled weakly from Samantha's strictured body.  He lay beside her, panting, watching her belly jerk as she, too, panted in glorious exhaustion.  One of his hands caressed her so{t, naked breast, feeling its sweat through the oil.  Her nipple was a flaccid, coral bud under his hand, yet he felt it perking erect once more even as he felt his own strength returning.

He smiled happily, savoring the depth of their mutual pleasure and love.  He knew they would flame once more, but there was no hurry.  The more slowly they approached it, the fiercer and hotter the pleasure would flare.  He knew it, and he knew she knew it, too.  Not that knowing would slow her headlong pursuit of it.  That was part of the game, part of the way she tested the limits of her bondage, and that, too, was part of the secret core of their pleasure.

He sighed and raised himself on one elbow, running his palms teasingly over her strapped, silken body and listening to her sigh of happiness.  Oh, yes, she would try to hasten the moment, but she wouldn't succeed.  There was no hurry.  They had three days, and he would render her down to melting sexuality again and again, and he melted in his turn.  His fingers moved knowingly, and Samantha crooned as they played upon her like a musician on his instrument.  She was content.  More than content, she was achingly happy, shuddering with soft pleasure as she felt him prepare a fresh, symphony - the second movement of a symphony in ivory and sable to delight them both.