Gretchen in Suspension

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Can a perfect suspended hogtie save your relationship?
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Authors note: Although not really a Part Two, I'm intending to fold these characters in with the characters in my first story in the future, so please check that out too. I'm also feeling that after two relatively slow burners, I'm going to have to bash out something quick and nasty next time. Please comment and vote if you read, because I really have no idea what I'm doing right or wrong.

- - -

Gretchen couldn't see properly. Her hair had fallen down in front of her face, and no matter how she twisted her neck or flicked her head she couldn't get it out of the way.

"Jesus, stop jerking around Gretch!" Stan sounded pissed. Of course she couldn't see him in her position, but she could feel his hands working away at yet another knot, securing her ankle to the top of her thigh, and she could imagine his brow contorted in concentration and his tongue sticking out as he set about his work. "This is for us remember?" he added.

"My hair's in my face and I can't see a damn thing," Gretchen informed him coldly. "Could you do something about it? I promise I won't... bother you if you do that."

"Hold on babe." Stan slowly tightened one of the many, many ropes and Gretchen felt the heel of her right foot pressing into the bare right cheek of her ass. "How's that?"

"Ow... a bit too tight. It's gonna hurt and cramp like that I think."

"Ok babe." The rope was loosened and Gretchen felt her foot resting in a more comfortable position an inch or so away. Right now Gretchen couldn't summon many positive feelings or opinions about Stan, but he was still considerate and professional when it came to binding up a naked woman like a thanksgiving turkey.

He came into her line of sight now and she was shocked for a minute to see he was still fully clothed while she was bound, increasingly helplessly, stark naked, face down on the bed. She couldn't crane her neck up enough to see his face, but she watched him pick up one of the red head-scarves she wore for work from the dresser and kept still as he pushed her hair back and tied it around her head.

"You'd better not get anything on this," Gretchen smirked, "I have to wear it to work tomorrow."

"I'll be careful babe." Stan said, but his voice was distant. Gretchen pulled a face as he walked back around to her backside, looping another rope around her legs, securely binding her thighs to her calves.

Gretchen and Stan had been dating for, what? Five years now she guessed, and increasingly they had been having problems. Problems like Stan thinking Gretchen was a cynical bitch, and Gretchen thinking Stan was an utter jackass. They were both adults, and neither of them wanted to give up on a relationship that had been so good (it had hadn't it? It was so hard to remember that far back now) so they started on a series of last ditch schemes to re-ignite, to repair, to restore what they had before.

They took a camping trip out to beyond the edge of nowhere and fucked up against a fence while they watched horny horses doing the exact same thing in a field. That hadn't been so much of a success since Stan had lost his temper when Gretchen wouldn't stop making jokes about the relative size of the stallion's cock and his own member. Gretchen had no idea why he would be so fucking touchy about that, after all his dick was... well it was a not inconsiderable proposition itself.

In fact if Gretchen was really honest with herself, Stan's wonderfully proportioned prick was a big check in the "positives" column of their relationship. She could understand that she might have been ruining the mood for him, but if their idea of what the mood should be like was so different, were they really right for each other?

Other than the camping scheme they tried porn, scheduling more time together, weeks without TV, more porn and even considered threesomes, but both kind of chickened out of that last idea.

Gretchen was out of ideas, but she felt she owed it to Stan to at least try when he suggested that they step up from the light bondage and hand-cuffs that was often a part of their fucking, to some serious rope bondage. It was something he'd always wanted to try, he admitted. And when she had given him the ok, he had dived headfirst into it - and she had watched him buying enough rope to restrain an elephant and fitting a steel hook into the ceiling of their bedroom with butterflies flitting around in her stomach.

Stan was almost finished she realised, and she started tensing her muscles and testing the restraints of the ropes that coiled around her again and again.

Gretchen was lying face down on the bed, her head tilted back so she was looking straight forwards, pulling the muscles of her neck taught. Her shoulders were both pulled back and her arms were securely tied together behind her back, forming a single line down her spine with her hands emerging from a tight bundle of rope just above her curvy ass.

When Stan had forced her arms back like this and bound her she had been kneeling up, and it had forced her breasts out as if for inspection and maybe that had been the point when she felt most embarrassed and vulnerable.

The loss of control, putting herself completely in someone else's power, at the mercy of their whims - she relished all those things, and she liked the spice it added to her sex life. This time though, so close to their relationship breaking down, she realised her trust in Stan was eroding, everything felt different. His eyes on her felt more calculating, she felt more of an object that he could just ogle and inspect and then fuck. Was that objectification what some people craved? She guessed it must be, but she wanted the connection - the feeling that the restraint was for her benefit as much as it was for his.

Stan had grinned at her pose, and couldn't help himself from roughly grasping and squeezing her breasts as she thrust them out against her will. She had kind of giggled along then, but then the butterflies started again as he looped more rope around her chest and arms that cut under her breasts and over them, so that they squeezed out obscenely from between two bands of restraint. It didn't hurt but she became painfully aware of how exposed she was, and her nipples and flesh seemed to become more and more sensitive every minute.

Her arms bound like that, she had been laid face down and he had bound her legs. Bending them at the knees, he had secured her calves to her thighs in two or three different places so that the heels of her feet rested an inch or two away from the curve of her backside. All along he sure as hell hadn't been sparing the rope, going over areas of her tingling skin again and again until in certain places she almost felt... clothed. It was a strange sensation, but she never forgot the sensation of the cool air passing between her legs or her slightly distended breasts.

Next he had gently parted her legs, and though she caught her breath she had let him, knowing that he must be inspecting her pink lips, and trimmed hair but not knowing anymore what he was thinking.

"Is that comfortable?" he had said softly.

"Uh-huh."

"Ok, I'm going to tie your legs now so you can't close them. Don't be scared."

"Oh... hahaha..." She had laughed nervously and considered again how this was the most restraint she'd ever been put under. She had had her legs secured before but this time it sounded like she wouldn't be able to struggle even. Just lie there and endure everything he did to her.

Her legs were bound now, just as he had said. He had tied the ropes around her knees to a kind of harness that he had secured around her waist and midriff in such a way that she could barely move her legs a centimetre. She was well and truly trussed up, arms in a straight line behind her back and legs folded up and splayed as wide as they could be without hurting her.

"Finished!" Stan sounded more cheerful than he had for weeks. "Oh wait... one more thing..."

"Hey, be careful..." Gretchen said in alarm as he started to mess with her hair, and she felt him beginning to secure her long, soft brown hair too. Oh god, when she was spread-eagled, tied to the bed posts, she could kick and struggle and stop him doing shit like this, but now - she tensed and tested her muscles again - her limbs were completely immobilized. "I don't think I want you tying my head back like this Stan."

"It's part of the position. Relax Gretch, nothing hurts right? This won't either. It'll take some of the pressure off your neck too."

She didn't say anything else, just concentrated on the tingling, rubbing sensations that were running all over her skin, even when she wasn't tensing her muscles. Where was the most sensitive? Maybe her thighs, she could really feel the ropes against the tops of her thighs. Or her upper arms, it was really sensitive there too. The rope wasn't too rough but she still felt the fibres rubbing into the soft flesh around her biceps.

Stan finished, and Gretchen swallowed down an involuntary panic response when she realised she couldn't now move her head much more than to angle it from side to side. Somehow Stan had tied her hair to some of the other ropes around the small of her back, over her arms and now her head was being forced back so that she had to look straight ahead.

He appeared in front of her, squatting to her level, holding a coil of thick rope, different from the thin stuff he had trussed her up in. Sometimes she forgot what he looked like these days. He was cute, she knew, with a lean, gorgeous body. But the closer they got emotionally the less there was inside him to sustain her.

"Ok Gretch. Last bit, and it's very important that you tell me if anything hurts."

"It's ok so far Stanny." She smiled bravely.

"Well, we're gonna use that big hook up there. I'm going to lift you up in the air, and if my knots and ropes have been ok so far your weight should be pretty much perfectly balanced and you won't feel any undue stress anywhere."

"Christ, you sound so professional."

"Enthusiastic amateur babe. I've got a pulley thing set up so after I run this rope through it, it should be pretty easy."

"Saying I need to drop a few pounds there Don Juan?"

"Relax Gretch," he grinned a little evilly "I don't want to have to gag you too." He stood, disappearing from her view and after a few minutes of clanking and rattling Gretchen felt something pulling gently on her, then she was a horizontal package being lifted vertically off the bed.

She was excruciatingly aware of her own weight, her flesh bulging out around the straps of rope, and for a moment panic started to spiral up inside her as she worried that too much stress on one point of her body and she could choke or break something or something else could go wrong. But quickly she realised that Stan had been right - her weight was evenly distributed amongst that crazy network of ropes and bindings and she was hanging, slowly spinning and completely naked.

He hoisted her several feet off the bed, then secured the rope somewhere and placed his hand on her thigh to stop her slow spiral.

"Oh... oh god," she whispered, biting her lip nervously.

"How's that? Anything pulling? Hurting?"

"It's ok, it's. Oh god... oh my god... what am I doing?" Gretchen felt her face flushing with blood as her heart pounded. Her breasts, squeezed and hanging down now were just... she was so aware of them it was amazing. And her legs, spread so wide with nothing to hide her privacy - to hide her pussy, it had been bad enough on the bed, now she felt like she was being displayed in a shop window.

"It's a kind of suspended hogtie."

"A what?"

"Sounds scary, doesn't it? That's why I didn't tell you before."

"Oh... thanks." Gretchen felt the blood leaving her face as Stan's hand on her thigh calmed her and she centred herself.

"And now..." Stan gave her thigh a gentle push, starting her slow spin again. Gretchen, unable to lower her head, looking only straight forwards, willed her muscles to relax and watched as the room rotated around her. Stan's muscular chest, the window (curtains drawn), the bedroom door, her dresser with her messy piles of make up and clothes, the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, the mirror, the wall above the bed and back to Stan's muscular chest.

Oh god, but the mirror! Stan had heard that savage intake of breath as she had caught sight of herself and with a chuckle he turned her back to face the full length mirror. She gasped in wonder, or awe, or horror, even she didn't know, to see herself turned into a BDSM aficionado's wet dream. The brown rope coiled and looped and bound her everywhere, but still there was so much of her soft, pink skin showing through. Again she thought - trussed up and exposed for inspection and display. Everything on show.

From her angle she could see the smooth curve of her neck, and her breasts hanging down from between the ropes, and she got a pretty good idea of the rest of her body, but she could also see Stan, and his eyes were eating up the curve of her ass and her split, spread thighs, and then - of course, her defenceless pink pussy and, God, probably even the dark pucker of her anus. Actually in this position maybe he couldn't see that, her cheeks were pushed together a little, but then again, everything else was on show, why not that too.

"Jesus fucking shit Gretchen," Stan chuckled again, "you look amazing." And with that, as if he was reading her mind he reached up and gently but firmly spread her ass cheeks to expose that dark pink, puckered opening. She felt naked all over again, and a low sound came out of her throat as she watched him in the mirror, inspecting and investigating her.

To her relief he stopped pulling her cheeks apart, and span her quickly back to face him. He squatted a little, so his face was level with hers and she watched silently as a slow grin of desire crawled across his face.

"This is gonna be so good for us baby." Stan reached under her and she felt his big, rough, fingers pinching at her nipples, pulling her sensitive breasts down even more. "How does that feel?"

"It's... um... it's good..." Gretchen felt out of control and under control at the same time, and she wasn't lying. She didn't think this would be good for them, if this was what it took to keep Stan interested in her then they had no future, but it did feel good. Her body was becoming more used to the unique suspension and position, and though her breasts were too sensitive for him to toy with them like that, she was starting to imagine the moment when that long, thick prick slid into her helpless pussy and he started to slowly pump into her.

Her eyes closed, biting her lip, lost in the moment Gretchen only half noticed Stan had gotten up and was rooting around in his bag of "gear" in the corner of the room. He brought it back over to her.

"Let's see what we have." His hand disappeared into the black holdall and came out with a shiny red plastic tube - rounded at both ends, it kind of looked like a thick cigar case. Gretchen stared at it uncomprehendingly until Stan twisted it and it started buzzing in his hands.

"Oh, oh fuck!" It was a shiny new vibrator she realised, but they rarely played with toys... what else did Stan have planned?

"Like the look of that?" Stan grinned broadly and placed it on the dresser where she could see it, tossing some of her clothes on the floor to make room. "And..." the next thing was a thick, black rubber dildo, moulded into the shape of a big, veined cock, including balls. Stan tapped it on the edge of the dresser, chuckling as is wobbled slightly.

At a glance Gretchen guessed it was even bigger than Stan's prick, which would mean it would be the biggest thing she had ever had inside her if he fucked her with it. When he fucked her with it, she realised. There was nothing she could do to stop him.

He was going to come round behind her, between her open, inviting legs where her pretty, pink pussy was displayed for him and he'd tease her with that buzzing vibe until she was gasping, begging for him to stop or fuck her, then he'd slide that monstrous rubber cock between her wet, waiting lips and fuck her with it. Not even deigning to use his own dick. She felt herself blushing at the thought and took a deep breath, closing her eyes and centring herself once again.

"And the final piece of the puzzle is this." Stan put the bag on the ground, crouched and with a flourish pulled two more objects from the bag. A video camera and a collapsible tripod.

"Oh wait, Stanny... I don't think that's a good idea." Gretchen's eyes were wider and now she was seriously worried. Their relationship wasn't strong, and if Stan recorded this and they broke up there was no way this wouldn't end up on the internet for every guy in the world to beat off to. "I don't want you to tape this." He'd never taped anything before had he? Had he hidden a camera? Oh God! Gretchen's heart was pounding as Stan erected the tripod in the corner and fitted the camera on top.

"This'll be so great babe," he didn't seem to have heard her, "I'll tape it, and we can watch it back while I'm fucking you from behind. Oh man, that's gonna be so hot."

"That's..." actually, that did sound pretty hot, "Listen, I need to think about this. We need to talk about it. Maybe next time we do this, ok?"

"Why not this time?" Stan straightened up and she couldn't see his face, but she could see the camera lens exactly at her eye level and she watched, stunned as he pressed a button and the little red light came on.

"Turn it off Stan," she made her voice hard and serious, but Stan ignored her, taking another loop of rope from the floor and the red tube vibe from the dresser. "I don't want this recorded." He didn't say anything, just gave her thigh a gentle push making her body spiral gently in the air.

This time she didn't feel the air moving across her skin, she felt the intrusive gaze of the camera lens taking her all in. Her pleading face, her dangling breasts, then her thigh, then - as she rotated a hundred and eighty degrees - her restrained legs and her scandalously displayed pussy. She kept spinning, turning to face the camera again, trying not to look directly into the lens, trying to make eye contact with Stan, but he was just standing there, nudging her further around.

"It's for us babe," he murmured, "you don't think this is gonna be hot?"

"I'm sure it's gonna be hot," Gretchen swallowed, painfully aware of how her neck was stretched when she did that, "but I don't want it videoed."

"Don't you trust me babe?"

"Of course I do," she lied.

"It's just for us." He span her again, the held her, turned so that the camera could get a good long look at her soft pink lips, and her light brown hair, exactly the same colour as the hair that was tied back forcing her to stare at the empty corner of the room as the digital camera recorded what she looked like at her most helpless.

She almost squealed when he split her ass again, exposing her tight little asshole to that one digital eye, but bit her lip and stifled the sound, rather than give him the satisfaction of getting her shriek on tape.

"Don't film that! Stan!" Her voice was stressed and strained she could hear, but she couldn't calm down now. She felt Stan plant a moist kiss on her left cheek, then he released her ass and his hands moved down, his fingertips brushing over the lips of her pussy, rubbing gently at the skin of her inner thighs, teasing and probing. She knew what would happen to her if he kept this up (he really was very good at turning her on) and she couldn't let that be captured on film.

"I wanted to do this for you baby," she appealed to him, "not put on a show for some fucking camera."

"Well, why can't you do both?" Stan asked simply, and slid his finger firmly over her pussy, pressing it in as her lips obediently opened for him. It didn't penetrate her properly, but it opened her up, and made her know that whatever her reservations, she was already wet, and would soon be ready for whatever he had in mind for her.