Chained

There was a summer sun, casting through the windows around the house. I loved that "open" look, that feeling of being able to soak in the sun from my couch, to slide the latches up and feel the cross-breeze in my house.

Alice was, perhaps, a bit -- but only a bit -- less fond of it. That might have been due to her walking through the house with only my collar upon her deliciously curved body, a form that seemed to fit like a puzzle piece into the bowed layout of my living room. I knew with no doubt she relished it while dressed, but the sense of being observed changed her opinion, changed her enjoyment.

But, then, this wasn't done for her. At least, not quite yet.

For her, to some extent, was the 2nd half of the Beeb's _Pride and Prejudice_. Having read the book (Oi! Not the one with the Zombies!), I was more than willing, if slightly bored, to watch with her, with the condition that her body was mine to torment during, with no hope for release -- and that such orgasmic pleasure would be swiftly punished.

So, with rights reserved, I used the right to play with her shape, pressed against me on the sofa as we watched Colin Firth get drenched. For some odd reason, she asked me to replay that scene.

Twice.

She was already well-drenched by my ministrations by that point; I confess to having kept her on a keen edge of delight for much of the viewing. There were portions she missed, due to my hands in her hair, the exposed portions of her neck teased with lips and tongue and teeth most active. Worse, perhaps, was my hands, that gripped and grazed and fondled her smooth skin. I delighted in having my palm find perch cupping a breast, two fingers tweezing her ripe nub of a nipple.

And, of course, being a man, I could not help but press my case. I strove for innocence with swollen shaft, but her slow squirming of a sharply-curved ass against my cock was too much a hardship, and forced me against her nether slit. If it also slid against her clit, 'tis not my fault! I did what I could to not torment her too much, after all...

...it was inevitable, though, that such a delightfully swollen clit would be visited by me. That I'd simply push that thick cock head onto the tip, slowly rubbing as she begins to beg for my unavailable mercy, the program forgotten for a time. The joy of knowing someone well is the joy of pushing their limits to the edge, of making them suffer with delight that feels unending. And so I did.

"...PLEASE. Please fuck me. Fuck my cunt, make it yours, make it hurt..."

"No."

And she'd moan again, loud.

When the torment stopped, I had a guess how long it lasted from the scene, once we refocused. But that was blocked by Alice's sudden turn, her grabbing my face, kissing me fiercely as she re-presented her naked form to my clothed flesh. And such fierce devotion could only be met with the same, as my hands caressed her face, our lips pressing home our mutual desires. We pulled away after...who knows how long? Who cares?

But dammit, now I had to rewind _again_.

Epic revenge was called for, and I again took advantage of the rules. My pants went down, and she moaned again as the tip of my cock, it's swollen and precum-dripping head, pressed ever-so-gently against her sopping need. A strong hand 'round her hips stopped her from pressing her case as I laid there, my cock nudging her pussy open, violating her in away both gentle and wicked.

"Are you empty, sweetie?"

"You know I am, you bastard!"

"Don't worry, when we finish watching this, I swear I'll fill you up hard and good. But if you try to slide down on my cock now? Oh you'll go to bed an empty and pain-filled young lady."

"Grrrrr...."

So that, as the say, was that. Her pussy dripping 'round the head of my stilled cock; as it grew soft, I simply kept shifting to press her open, until it was my fingers that kept my soft cock wedged in there, tormenting her.

When the series was done, she went to the bathroom (held it the whole time!), while I got straightened up, and told her to meet me in the garage. A sharp look got a retort, "You know the neighbors can't see," and perhaps she didn't hear my whispered "yet" as well. I picked up the long steel rod, warm to the touch, and walked across the grass.

The olive-green metal door opened with a creak, and I reminded myself to get some more WD-40 for it, eying the hinges with a annoyed face. I closed the door, then my feet swept to where my gaze now lied, and settled the screw-end of the rod down into the floor, dodging the chromed chains hanging overhead as I worked. She came in as I finished twisting the rod into it's socket, and stood quietly, until I walked over to her, and grabbed her hair.

"I promised sweet Alice a fill-up, didn't I?"

"Oh, no...no, Sir, please...just fuck me..." She even started rubbing her hand on my cock, half-bending over with her ass pressed near me, whimpering and moaning her need to be fucked, promising she'd be good, she'd take it in her ass just the way I wanted it.

I simply waited awhile, relishing her growing depravity, and the ease it came to her, with every debauched effort on our parts. Her training had been a wicked bit of effort, these last few months, and her growing sense of self was matched with an eager willingness in many cases, to explore.

But not in this case. And I knew she was nervous. She wanted it -- it had been her idea, after all -- but kept pushing it off. Even the time I did the depth measurements, she was of two minds; babbling about the ability, whilst presented a sopping wet cunt to be plunged.

"Enough." And that one word brought her up short. "Decision's made. Spread."

Trussing her up was a slow, teasing process. I kept her nervous self occupied with more slow teasing of her clit and cunt lips, with hot, melting kisses, even as the strong leather harness was buckled onto her lovely frame. On top of that, rope for her upper frame, strapped and tied to distribute her weight, and her arms manacled and bound behind on a clip.

And then, the hooks -- three of them off the chain, attached to the ropes. A final, long kiss, her tears now evident, and I pressed the button for the wench, pressing her body to me as It rose into the warm air a few feet.

My hands pulled the chain, and she slid. I felt water on my skin, and wondered if it was tears of her needy juices, still flowing. The wench slid her down, and I positioned her just over the pole, the tip pressing against her need, tapered to a gently curved top that I slowly lubed, looking her in her watery eyes all the while.

"Open for Daddy," and the wench slid down the pole, slowly. The moan muffled the grind of gears as she was filled by the steel shaft to about 3/4ths her max depth, then it stopped. I adjusted to round metal plate that was a last resort; the wench was designed to only go down so far, and quick spans were in abundance for this, but better safe, etc.

And then the clamps. The ring on the ground. The thin bungee cord, connecting the clamp chains to the ring. The wink, and the scream, as one clamp was fiercely attached to her ripe clit. Her begging now, whimpering as the other clamps landed on her nipples.

"Take the pain, my Love. It will make this all the more sweeter." And I tightened the slack so it all pulled taut, pulled her pointed, eager parts out even more into the shaft of light landing in front of her impaled form.

"You're going to get fucked properly, now. So deep, so well, so hard. And you'll adore it, and wonder why I never let you do this before."

"Sir...Ohhh...it hurts, and my cunt burns...just let me cum....please..."

"Here's how you'll cum." and the wench started up, pulling her slowly off the pole. And then abruptly shifted gears, sliding her down, then back up, over and again, so slowly, so powerfully, her own weight drilling the metal deep into her gaping pussy.

I can't describe the sounds she made. Underneath it all was the core -- the delicious sound of her wet cunt being probed, over and again, sloppy leavings on the slick pole as she's violated again and again. The whine of the engine as it raised and lowered her onto that unbending shaft, forcing her hungry cunt to take what I wished of it. The high, keening sound as the rise of the pole pulled on her more sensitive spots, and scraped another spot deep.

It was not long before her ongoing attempts to beg a cum were of the pitch and volubility I wanted, and permission was given. It was beatific; her muscles tight, her voice a melding of th angelic and demonic, and it seemed to me even the steel pole shook from the force.

But I needed to get her out, so I tore my eyes from the sight as soon as the wench was stopped at the top. I did delight, though, that she re-doubled her release, it seemed, with every clamp removed.

The futon was ready, and I untied and unbuckled her as she laid there, aftershocks vibrating her flesh, her mouth open, her sounds more quiet but unabated. She returned the soft but loving kiss I gave her, and the soft "thank you, sir", and I curled up next to her, holding her warm flesh tight in the dark room.