Looking up from my laptop, I scanned the corn field that bordered my property for the source of the noise that had suddenly pierced the morning calm. It was, no doubt, my neighbor Hank, on his huge John Deere tractor. The noise didn’t bother me in the least; in fact, I was surprised he hadn’t started working hours earlier. Movement to my left attracted my attention and I caught a brief glimpse of the tractor’s green cab before it disappeared behind the expanse of corn stalks that filled the acreage between his barns and my house.

Returning my attention to my laptop, I deleted the last paragraph of the story I was writing and then altered the wording to better express the ideas I had for this sequence. I wondered what Hank would think if he knew I made my living writing adult literature. Okay, okay, its pornography, but I like to think it’s more sophisticated than simply ‘porn’. And yes, there’s a lot of bondage in my stories, but that’s just what sells the best.

Who am I kidding? It’s just what I like to write about!

For sure, Hank would never allow his daughter, Samantha, to come within a hundred yards of my property if he knew what a sick, demented, pervert I was. Ha, ha. I’m also sure he wouldn’t be amused to learn that the ‘victim’ in the story I was writing was a 5’4” woman with short black hair, ice blue eyes, and a well-toned figure. There’s no way he wouldn’t recognize the resemblance to his own daughter.

My fingers sat idly on the keys as the image of Samantha pushed all other thoughts temporarily out of my head. Having recently graduated from the University of Wisconsin with a degree in Agribusiness, ‘Sam’ had returned to manage the business aspects of the family farm, a task her mother had performed before her passing. Hank had referred to Sam as his “little girl” but after meeting her I wasn’t sure if that was a father/daughter thing, or a reference to her petite stature. Either way, I was momentarily breathless when I first set eyes on her.

My first impression was that she was cute. Maybe it was her petite size that made my mind think of her as Hank’s “little girl”. But it didn’t take long for me to see that she was no little girl. Most definitely a woman. And the more I saw of her, the more I realized she wasn’t just cute, but beautiful. How in the hell had she made it through four years of college without getting snapped up by some strapping young lad?  I once managed to slip that question into a conversation and received a somewhat cryptic reply.

“Well…” she paused briefly as if debating how to reply, “let’s just say, I can use a strap better than any of the young lads I’ve come across.”

Then she gave me a mischievous wink as she whistled for her dog, Ranger, and headed across the field towards her house.

What the hell did that mean? First of all, the change of ‘strapping’ to ‘strap’ altered the meaning of the word, and then the wink told me she knew that, and it was intentional.

‘Use a strap’? Of course, my sick, demented, pervert mind immediately took that in a BDSM context. But, Samantha? I shook the thoughts away. She was probably just implying that the guys at college were too soft. Hank had mentioned that his daughter was something of a tomboy when she was younger, and maybe she still was.

But that wink had unnerved me. Did she know who I was? I mean, who I really was? Had she somehow figured out that I was that Darios Donelli, the author who writes under the nom de plume, mrhungry? I probably shouldn’t have used my real name in my online profiles, but it’s not like I’m running for public office or anything. I’m not worried about being ‘scandalized’. I’ve never been too concerned that anyone I know would happen across my name while browsing porn on the Internet, either. I doubt anyone I know browses porn. But then, that’s something one never really knows.

But that all happened months before, and nothing ever came of it. After awhile my paranoia subsided and the entire episode faded from my mind.

Re-reading the last page I had written, I made a few corrections and then continued writing until late in the afternoon. The artist who was illustrating the novel was nearly out of text, and I wanted to get her another four chapters before the end of the week.

When I finally powered down my computer, I heard Hank’s tractor getting louder and louder. I stood on the porch waiting for it to appear, and when it did, I saw Samantha at the wheel. She waved as the tractor slowed to a stop. I waved back and stepped off the porch to greet her.

Pulling herself up from the driver’s seat, Samantha turned to face the tractor as she climbed down to ground level. That gave me a moment to perv on her as she had her back to me. Holy shit! She was wearing short, tight, denim shorts, and a light blue, sleeveless, blouse tied up to show off her well-toned midriff. She definitely had her ‘Daisy Duke’ persona down pat, and I didn’t mind that one bit.

When she turned towards me, I could see that she’d been the one working in the fields all day. The tractor was an older model that had an open cab, meaning there was no air conditioning. Her hair was matted to her scalp with sweat, and her blouse was wet and plastered to her chest. It was pretty obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Trying to keep my eyes respectfully looking into hers, we exchanged pleasantries like neighbors do. She saw me glance down at the small box she was carrying, and then held it up for me to take. As I opened the box, she explained that her father had left that morning to spend a week with his sister in Des Moines. Since she would be there alone, they would both feel a lot better if I could just “take a peek” over their way from time to time to see if everything looked okay.

Inside the box was a pair of binoculars, which Sam confessed was her idea.

She laughed as she made me promise to keep a close eye on her, and then she hopped back up onto the tractor and turned towards her house. I lifted the binoculars to my eyes and watched her go.

Now, I must reveal what a perverted soul I really am. That night, I sat in a chair in front of a window in my darkened attic with my new binoculars focused on Samantha’s bedroom window. The window shade was pulled down, but the positioning of the lamp in her room was such that when anyone walked past the window, a silhouette danced across the shade.

Around nine o’clock I noticed a shape silhouetted against the shade, so I lifted the binoculars to my eyes. The shadow was definitely being made by Samantha, and as I watched I saw her lift her blouse up over her head and then reach down to remove whatever it was she was wearing on her lower half. Now, apparently naked, she appeared to be fondling her breasts and between her legs! When she turned slightly, it looked like there was something in the hand she was using on her pussy. By the shape, it could only be one thing: a vibrator. After a while, maybe ten minutes, her silhouette left my view, and the light was turned off.

I watched the darkened window for another fifteen minutes and then went downstairs. How strange is it that a guy who writes BDSM porn would feel like a scuzzy voyeur for doing what I had just done? But I also wondered, who gives the guy next door a pair of binoculars and then pleasures herself in front of the window? She had to know she was casting a shadow, right?

A couple of days went by without another peep show. Maybe Samantha hadn’t realized she was casting a shadow, after all. Or maybe I wasn’t peeping at the right times. Her window shade was raised during the day, but I couldn’t see anything inside due to the glare off the window. The shade was pulled down at night. Her light came on around 8pm and went off around 9:30pm. Farmer’s hours. She was doing all of the work in the fields while her father was gone.

I was actually too busy with my writing to really perv on her full time. For the most part I did just what I was asked to do, be a good neighbor and occasionally scan Hank’s property for anything that looked out of the ordinary.

Work on my novel was going well, and on the fourth night I must’ve been really inspired because I wrote until nearly ten o’clock before stopping for a break. I remembered I hadn’t checked on Sam, so I walked out to the road where I could get a clear view of the farm and used the binoculars. Curiously, the light in Sam’s room was still on. Curious, but not concerning. Sam was an adult. She could stay up as late as she wanted to. Maybe she didn’t need to get up at the crack of dawn to work the next day.

Everything else next door seemed to be in order, so I went back inside my house and made a sandwich. Taking my plate up to the attic, I sat in my pervert chair and watched Samantha’s window. No silhouettes. Damn. She might have fallen asleep with the lights on, for all I knew.

Just as the cuckoo clock in my living room started chirping out eleven o’clock, Samantha’s window shade snapped fully open. I quickly lifted the binoculars to my eyes to peer inside her room. I could see the edge of her bed, the nightstand next to it, and the lamp on top of the nightstand. Huh. I continued watching for another ten minutes and then it occurred to me; who raised the shade? I was looking at the window when the shade went up and had the binoculars up within a second or two. No one was visible. How had the shade gone up without someone releasing it? Now that was perplexing.

What to do, what to do…..

If Sam had raised the shade somehow, why did she do it? I’d been watching her window for half an hour by that time, and still saw no movement. If the shade had gone up accidentally, why hadn’t she pulled it down and turned off her light? If she’d been asleep, the sudden noise would’ve surely woken her.

Now I was worried. Something was going on over there, and as the designated Watcher it was my duty to investigate. I don’t own any weapons, but I do have a baseball bat, so I grabbed it on the way out the door. I walked along the edge of the corn field towards the farmhouse then stopped when I came to the edge of the field. There were no cars in the driveway other than Sam’s Bronco. There were no lights on in the house, other than in the bedroom, and on the porch. Everything seemed quiet.

Keeping an eye out for any movements outside, I quickly crossed the yard to the side of the house, and then moved along the wall to Sam’s bedroom window. I peeked inside but didn’t see anyone. The bed was empty, and the covers were slightly crumpled as though Sam had been lying on top.

My heart nearly jumped up through my throat as Ranger pounced against the window, his loud bark reverberating off the glass. I waited several seconds to see if Samantha would come into the room to see what her German Shepherd was barking at, but there was no sign of her.

Moving around the house to the back door, I tried the handle and found the door to be unlocked. I could hear Ranger’s nails clicking against the linoleum as he ran towards me, still barking. As I stepped into the kitchen, the dog recognized me and stopped barking.

“Where’s Sam?” I whispered as I patted his head. I received no answer other than a vigorous wagging of his tail, so I called out her name. Nothing.

Moving slowly into the house, I headed towards Sam’s room. The door was ajar, but there was still no one there. On the floor near the bed was a roll of filament tape, and a pair of scissors. On the bedstand, there was a small bag of what looked like pot, and a pipe. I looked over at the window and saw, plugged into the wall socket below the window, one of those timers you set to turn your lights on and off at predetermined times. I bent down and saw that it was set for eleven pm. A string attached to the window shade answered the question of how the shade had gone up on its own. Sam had somehow rigged it to the timer. Very clever!

This was all giving me a sense of déjà vu. I saw her laptop sitting on a desk in the corner of the room and I jiggled the mouse to wake it up. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw what appeared on the screen. It was my short story “One Last Time”, which I had posted on Deviantart.

My first thought was, “Fuck! She knows I’m mrhungry!”

My second thought was, “Fuck! She’s somewhere in the house, naked, and all tied up.”

“One Last Time” was a story which described the last time I had performed self-bondage. I hadn’t mentioned it in the Author’s Notes, but it was a true story, only the protagonist’s name had been changed to protect the guilty. The story detailed exactly how and what I had done, and I suppose that’s what made it so believable. Anyone could easily recreate the scenario if they tried.

Leaving Sam’s room, I set out to see if she had, in fact, recreated my bondage scenario, and if so, was it working for her?

In my story, I bound myself and then had to crawl through my house to get the key to the lock that connected my homemade wrist cuffs. The key had been thrown out onto the front porch, which was a very exposed area. That had added to the thrill of the fantasy.

If Samantha was recreating my scenario, she would be on the front porch, so I headed in that direction. As I approached, I could see that the door was open, and when I looked out onto the porch, I couldn’t help but smile. What a wonderful, wonderful sight!

There, wiggling around on the rough outdoor carpet of the porch was Samantha; naked, and bound in the same manner as in my story. She had fashioned her wrist cuffs out of filament tape and used rolls of brown cloth medical bandages to tightly wrap her head. If she was really following my story, she would have inserted foam ear plugs into her ears. Her legs were bound separately, ankle to thigh with belts, and at the moment her legs were spread far apart.

I stood in the doorway, silently, watching her. Her fingers were searching for the key to the lock that held her wrist cuffs together. With her hands under her, searching for the key, her torso was delectably arched, forcing her breasts outward. I stepped out onto the porch and inched towards the middle of the room and looked around the floor. If she had done what I had done, before starting this little adventure, she would have turned her back to the room and tossed the key behind her so she wouldn’t know where exactly on the porch it had landed. This would force her to spend time searching for it with her hands bound behind her back. All the while, she was totally exposed on the porch if someone was to come to the front door.

Also, she had made a couple of modifications to her bondage that I wholly approved of. Around her waist was a leather belt, pulled tight and locked, to which a thin silver chastity belt was locked. With her legs splayed as they were, I could see that there was a slit in the crotch piece through which her pierced clit had been pulled. The bar bell was on the outside of the crotch strap, holding her clit captive and exposed. From what I could see, the flesh beneath the chastity belt was free of hair.

There was also a ring gag holding her mouth wide open. She had done an excellent job of wrapping the medical gauze around her head to conceal the straps of the gag, while covering her lips and cheeks. On the side of her head there was a yellow Post-it Note woven into the layers of gauze. I saw an arrow, pointing to her mouth, and when I leaned closer, I could see she had written: ‘Fuck Here’.

Now, the sight of her bound nakedness, her chest and breasts red from rubbing against the rough carpet, the piercing in her clit tugging on her with every movement, the ring gag and the invitation to fuck her mouth…all of it, made my cock as hard as a rock. What a sight!!

I still hadn’t spotted the key to the lock holding her wrist cuffs together. Where the hell was it? Was she lying on it? After scanning the porch for a minute, I finally saw it where the porch wall met the floor. There was a sight indentation along the base of the wall, and the way the key had landed in there would make it very difficult for Sam to find with her arms and wrists bound as they were.

I knew I’d have to help her, or she might never find the key. But did I have to do it right away, or should I continue to watch her struggle? Or….

Now all sorts of thoughts were going through my mind. Kinky thoughts. Possibly illegal thoughts. ‘Fuck Here’. That was obviously her fantasy. How would she feel about it becoming a reality? If I made it a reality, and it turned out to be nonconsensual, I could be facing jail time. I had a lot to lose.

But…she was obviously into bondage, and she had written that Note. There’s no way she could’ve wrapped her head that well without plenty of practice. She had given me the binoculars, knowing I would be watching her house. Had she intended for the shade to go up to attract my attention? Did she know I was mrhungry?! Would that make a difference?

The urge to touch her head, to feel the tightness of her homemade hood, was hard to ignore. Fuck that! I wanted to touch her body…her helpless, naked, fucking gorgeous body. I already knew I was going to. Opportunities like this just don’t happen in real life. They happen in fictional stories that come out of naughty minds like mine. But here it was! Right there in front of me.

With my mind already on autopilot, I retreated from the porch and made my way back to Sam’s bedroom. A quick search of her dresser drawers was made to locate her vibrator. I stopped to pull the window shade down and headed back to the porch.

Samantha had made it to the corner of the porch, and was searching the floor with her fingers. It was slow work, and by the sounds of her beathing, she was getting tired. Drool flowed out of her open mouth as she laid her head to the side on the floor. I took that opportunity to put my foot down heavily next to her, and then step over her to retrieve the key from its hiding place.

Two solid footsteps so close to her did not go unnoticed, and she began to struggle against her bondage. It was so gratifying to see how well the tape cuffs held her! She must have realized her bent legs were still wide apart, exposing her crotch, because she quickly brought her knees up together. I could see that she was trying to wiggle out of the belt around her elbows, but with her wrists bound she was unable to work the belt loose. Without the key to her wrist cuffs, all her struggles were just a waste of energy, anyways. But what a fucking awesome sight her struggles were!

After several minutes of wrestling against her self-inflicted bondage she calmed down and just lay there, panting through the open ring gag. What thoughts must have been going through her head?!

“Oo ere?” she asked, her words truncated by the gag. “aria? Eh at oou?”

She must have suspected it was me, or at least hoped it was. I wasn’t going to say anything. Let it be an unknown. It could be anyone that was driving by and saw the porch light on, like a travelling salesman, or saleswoman…haha. Hmmm, story idea for the future, maybe…

Placing the key on the window ledge along with the vibrator, I knelt, and with both hands grasped Samantha’s head. Most would think I would go for the breasts first, but Sam’s tightly wrapped head was, to me at least, the most erotic aspect of her bondage, especially with the ring gag holding her mouth open. Holding one hand under her head for support, my other hand firmly roamed the surface of the bandages. The tightness, and total removal of sight and sound, were so damn sexy!

Lowering her head to the floor so I could explore her body with both hands, I gripped both of her breasts and palpated them with conviction. I bent over to sandwich my face between her soft flesh, and I’m sure the stubble of my evening whiskers felt rough to her. I let my lips trace paths across each breast, suckling her nipples as I explored them.

But there was so much more naked flesh to enjoy! Regretfully, my hands left Samantha’s splendid breasts as I lowered them to caress her abdomen and waist. With her hands still under her, Sam’s torso was arched, pulling her stomach tight. Her body twitched when I ran my hands over her abs. Was she sensitive there, or maybe ticklish? I bent down and lightly kissed her stomach, causing her to try and force herself upright.

Reaching over with one hand, I placed my palm against her throat and pushed her back down, holding her throat. She moaned something I couldn’t make out and I lessoned the pressure on her airway, while maintaining a firm grip that I was sure was sufficient to keep her pinned to the floor.

At this point, I have to admit, I was pretty much wild with lust. In for a penny, in for a pound, and all of that. There would be little difference at that point between stopping right there or doing whatever the fuck I wanted to. In fact, I would be better off making damn sure that Samantha enjoyed it more than me. Maybe she wouldn’t have me arrested.

With that in mind, I started kissing her stomach lower and lower. As I got closer to her chastity belt, I heard another really low moan and noticed that her knees were slowly separating. A few moments later, her bent legs were fully spread, exposing the belt between her legs, and her little trapped clitoris.

I took that opportunity to move over and begin to kiss her outstretched thighs, rubbing my stubbly beard across her tender flesh from time to time. I worked my way up to her belt covered crotch and kissed the hot flesh on either side of the belt.

Sam was breathing heavily through the ring gag, and I felt it was time to plug that ring with something hot and solid. But first, I had to attend to her needs, and an idea of how to do that had just entered my mind. Oh, the joys of being a bondage writer!

Quickly, I unbuckled my belt and pulled it out through the loops of my pants. I reached up and retrieved the vibrator from the windowsill and plugged it into a nearby wall socket. Reaching over to hold Samantha’s leg, I pulled it towards me while pushing the leg closest to me forward. When her knees were together, I used the belt to hold her legs together.

This must have been a little confusing for her because she had already opened her legs for me, but then I think she figured out what was happening when I pressed the vibrator in between her bound legs. After positioning the bulbous head firmly against the metal of her chastity protector, I turned the vibrator on to emit escalating waves of vibrations. Not wanting her to orgasm too quickly, I selected a medium speed.

Reaching beneath her with both of my hands, I pulled her up to a sitting position and leaned her back against the wall. I checked the vibrator to make sure it was still positioned against the metal that covered her pussy and saw that it was. I knew that the magic wand was vibrating against the chastity protector, and that the piercing through her clit was resting against that silver sheath. The vibrations would be transferred directly into her clit through the piercing.

Lowering my pants and briefs, I leaned forward to bring my hard cock close to Samantha’s open mouth and then used it to tap gently against the opening in the medical gauze. The signal must have been understood because Sam’s tongue extended out through the ring gag, exploring, searching.

No more encouragement was necessary as my cock entered her open mouth. I took it slowly, giving her only the tip. The consensualness of the situation was apparent when Sam used her tongue to lick the tip of my cock when I kept it just within her reach. This encouraged me to press my cock further into her waiting mouth. I saw her move her head forward to take me even deeper. But I was in control.

I pushed her head back against the wall and held it firmly there while withdrawing my cock from her mouth. Flicking myself against her gauze wrapped face, I waited until Sam’s tongue reached out through the gag once again, and only then did I press my member through the ring and into her mouth.

Now I was thrusting my cock deeper into my captive’s mouth, keeping in mind that her nose was covered with the bandages and that she was forced to breathe through her mouth. I withdrew often to allow her to take full breaths, but then continued to fuck her face hole.

Within a few minutes Sam’s moaning began to deepen and increase in volume. I reached down and adjusted the speed of the vibrator up a notch, and switched modes so that it emitted a deep rumbling vibration. This really set her off, as her moaning turned into gasping, and her tongue extended through the gag in search of my cock.

Never one to disappoint, I pressed forward, guiding my cock down her throat. She gagged and coughed out a stream of phlegm, but when I began to withdraw my cock, her head followed my movement in an effort to prohibit that.

I was in charge, damn-it! I took Samantha’s bandage covered head in both hands and pushed her back against the wall. This firm action seemed to trigger her, and her body convulsed as she was consumed in orgasm. Sensing the timing was perfect, I entered her open mouth again and started fucking her face, while holding her head firmly against the wall. Sam was still twitching from the orgasm, and I felt my own lust coming to a head.

Even though that lust had been guiding my actions, cumming down her throat seemed to be too personal an act to do without actual consent. It’s all fine and good in porno flicks, but Samantha wasn’t a porn star, and neither was I. Instead, I unloaded onto her breasts, which was probably more stimulating to me, visually, than discharging into her mouth.

There were some very weird sounds coming from Sam’s throat at this point and I sensed that she was having another rather intense orgasm. For some reason, the memory of her saying that she could use a strap better than those college boys came to mind. I pulled her away from the wall and with a little effort, repositioned her, face down on the carpet. Reaching through her legs, I unbuckled my belt and pulled it through until I held it in my hand.

Doubling it over, I wondered for a moment if what I had in mind was going to be stepping over some imaginary line. After everything that had transpired on that porch, I doubted that it would. With one hand, I lifted her arms above her back, and then brought the other hand down swiftly, striking her naked buttocks with the belt. It was a hard blow, and she cried out and struggled against my hold on her.

Sam’s movements and protests were somewhat erratic as I believe she was in the throes of another orgasm. That would be her third. I whipped her ass hard four more times, and then stood up to put my belt on.

Reaching over to the windowsill, I grabbed the key to the lock, and placed it in her hand. Her fingers closed on it as I stepped back towards the door. I took one last look at a true damsel in distress, and then headed towards the back door.

What a fucking night!!

Epilogue

The cops never showed up at my door, so Samantha either enjoyed my treatment of her, or she hadn’t been sure it was me who had assaulted her. Maybe both. I felt guilty as hell, but damn, what bondage lover has never fantasized about stumbling across a situation like that?

When Hank returned from his trip, he had walked over, alone, to thank me for watching his place, and his daughter, while he was gone. I told him it was no problem; the pleasure was all mine, although I don’t think that was entirely true.

With the harvest season upon us, I saw Samantha and Hank in their fields daily. Hank was driving their largest tractor while Sam was following behind with the truck. It was nearly sunset one day when I heard the airbrakes of the truck hiss outside my house. I walked out onto the back porch to see Samantha rolling down the window.

I waved and stepped off the porch to see what she wanted. I can tell you; I was more than a little nervous. Looking up at her, I saw her look down inside the cab and then hold a bat out of her window.

“Hey, Darios!” she yelled down at me, “I found this bat in my kitchen a couple of weeks ago. Do you want it?”

My face probably turned beet red because I noticed a little smirk on the woman’s face. Fuck! I had forgotten all about the bat I had taken with me that night!

“Um, sure, I’ll take it,” I replied as I reached up to take the bat from her. “Thanks!”

“Funny thing,” Sam said, “Someone has carved the initials DD in the knob of the handle. Now that’s a coincidence, isn’t it?”

I turned the bat over to look at the bottom of the knob. Yep, DD. I had labeled the bat when I played in a league several years before.

“Yes, I agree,” I called back, unable to think of any other reply. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you, sir!” she yelled down.

Sir? I waved, and started to turn towards my house when I heard her yell, “Hey, just wanted to let you know that my dad is taking a little vacation at the end of the month, once the crops are all in. Maybe we can get together and do something.”

“I’d like that!” I yelled back. “Just give me a signal and I’ll drop in.”

“I will!” she yelled back with a smile on her face. Putting the truck in gear, she headed off across the field.

The End