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| Home Game | Back to M | Back to main page |
Collected by Djian
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| Home Game | Back to M | Back to main page |
Collected by Djian
Another story by Ted E. Bear Coerced | Homegame | Kidnaped on their Wedding Night | A Bad Neighborhood
Home Game
By Ted E. Bear
Disclaimer
This story contains scenes and descriptions of a sexual nature,
which may not be suitable for minors. If you are under 18 years
of age, or the legal age to view such material, please stop
reading now. If you object to, or are offended by, sexually
explicit stories, or if the offend the community standards where
you live, please stop now. The author, and any distrubutors of
this story disclaim all responsibility , in the case where the
above warning is ignored. If you ignore this warning, you are
pretty much average.
Home Game
Cheryl waited until her her husband's car was out of sight, then
went inside and began to gather her toys. Jon would be gone all
afternoon, so she had plenty of time, but she still didn't want to
waste any of it.
She took the collection of straps, the ace bandages, the sleep
mask, and the tray of ice cubes up to the bedroom, making sure to
lock the doors as she went. It really wouldn't do to have someone
wander in during her game.
Even her husband didn't know about this game, she mused. "I
wonder what Jon would do if he found out how I spend my lonely
afternoons?", she asked herself. Better not to find out, she
concluded. He would undoubtably take advantage of her, she knew.
She loved him, but he had a mean streak that came out once in a
while.
Setting her parcels on the bed, she stripped off her regular
clothes, and got into the tight, french cut bikini she used for
the game. Somehow, being in a tight, revealing outfit was sexier
than being naked. It just worked that way.
Next, she got a drinking glass from the bathroom, broke some ice-
cubes from the tray, and set up her escape. There were keys
frozen into the ice cubes, and a string that ran between them.
The cube with the keys hung on the outside of the glass, along
with another cube as a weight. Three cubes hung inside the glass.
The glass itself was placed on a high shelf, within reach for a
normal person, but quite inaccessable to her once the game
started. The game would continue until the ice melted, and
dropped the keys to a spot within reach.
That arranged, she knealt on the bed, and began wrapping herself
in leather. One wide strap went around each leg, pulling her foot
against the back of her thigh. Another strap wrapped around her
knees, and ran behind her back, pulling her legs tight against her
body, and forcing her into a butt-thrusting, spread legged squat.
She carefully placed the ball gag between her teeth, adjusting the
strap so that it was firm, but wouldn't leave any marks on her
face. Over this, she wrapped an ace-bandage, ensuring that the
buckles were completely covered in a stretchy, clinging layer that
prevented all posibility of release.
Next, she wrapped a wide leather collar around her throat, locking
it in place with a small padlock. She arranged the strap that
hung from it so it came halfway down her back.
Giving a final look at the clock, and a glance at her ice cubes,
she looped the handcuffs through the strap suspended from her
collar, and locked them around her wrists.
The sensations began at once, as they always did. The pose pulled
her bikini tightly into her crotch, giving the most delicious
sensations. The top, chosen specifically because it was too small
for her generous 38D breasts, squeezed and worked her tits to
tingling joy as she rolled on the bed. And she fantasized.
She was a college girl, facing her Sorority initiation. The other
girls had tied her this way, but wouldn't tell her what was
supposed to happen. Would she be put on display for one of the
Fraternities? Would the boys touch her? What if they took
pictures? What would she have to do to get them back? She
struggled against her bonds in mock horror, making herself even
hotter. There was a dampness growing between her legs, and her
nipples were growing harder by the minute. She changed fantasies.
She was a spy, caught by enemy agents. They were preparing to
question her, to try to get her to talk. They would tease-torture
her for days, forcing her to satisfy them with her mouth and
tongue, while leaving her own need unfulfilled. They would have
their hands all over her, fingering her pussy, tweaking her tits,
trying to drive her mad. She rolled over and began to rythmically
rub herself against the edge of a pillow. She knew that she
couldn't bring herself off this way, but trying added to the heat.
She changed fantasies.
She had gone out on a blind date. The man had turned out to be
handsome and charming, and she had dropped her guard. He had
drugged her, and when she awoke she found that he had tied her up.
He was going to use her as the guest star in an orgy. The others
were gathering in the next room. Soon, they would be in here,
enjoying themselves at her expense. They would spank her exposed
bottom, shave her pussy, and take turns licking and sucking her
until she passed out from pleasure. Then she would awaken, naked,
in a strange part of town, and have to try to get home without
being seen. She pumped her hips against an imaginary lover's
lips, trying to pleasure herself against thin air.
She was steaming hot now, and looked at her ice cubes to see how
much longer she had. She could see the vibrator, lubricated and
ready, waiting where she had left it. And she remembered...
She remembered the time she had tried the game with the vibrator
pushed into her, held in place by the bikini, and turned on. She
would never forget the experience. She had come, over and over
again, for the entire time. She was still coming when the keys
fell, and she dropped them three times trying to free herself.
Jon had almost caught her that time, and commented that she seemed
"distracted" at dinner that night. Distracted? That was an
understatement. She had been almost brain-numb, suffering from an
orgasmic O.D. She fantasized again.
She was a famous model, kidnapped and sold into slavery. An arab
sheik would be examining her, to see if he wanted to add her to
his harem. He would squeeze her tits and buttocks, crotch-rub
her, and tickle her back and feet. If her nipples grew hard, or
her pussy got damp, he would take her and keep her as his sex-
slave. All she had to do was stay calm, and she would be free.
But he was an expert, and she knew that she couldn't resist his
roving hands. She struggled to escape, pulling her bikini even
tighter into the tingling valley of her thighs. She changed
fantasies.
She had come to a job interview, as secretary to a photographer.
He had mistaken her for one of his models, and before she knew it,
he had her tied up. He had fondled her, marveled at how well she
squirmed and struggled, and taken several roles of film. The
courier would be here to pick up the film any minute. She had to
get loose, or the pictures would be published. She twisted,
rubbing her tits and body on the bedsheets, watching her ice
"clock".
As she watched, the bottom ice cube slid down the string a bit,
then a bit more. Soon, she would have relief. Suddenly, to her
surprise, the bottom ice cube slid off the string, and fell to the
floor. The key was in the second cube. She watched in shock as,
left without a counterweight, it was drawn up the side of the
glass by the ice-cubes inside. It hung, hooked over the edge for
one agonizing moment, then fell into the glass. The key was in
the glass. It wasn't going to fall. She couldn't reach it. She
really was trapped!
She thought frantically about escape. Where was the second key?
Oh God, it was hanging on the side of the refrigerator,
downstairs. No way to get to it. She was going to be stuck here
until Jon found her and let her go. Would he let her go? Was he
bringing friends over for dinner? She didn't know. What would
they do? She could imagine Jon inviting his buddies in to look
her over, tied up this way. He might feel her up in front of
them, undressing her while they watched and laughed. Did he have
film for his camera? She hoped not. The fear was real this time,
and twice as intense as her most erotic daydreams. Her body began
to respond to the excitement, pumping her to even higher levels of
passion. She began to fantasize again...
The end
Comments welcome
The Bear