Roses and a Stranger

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A stranger comes to warm her up for Valentine's Day.
3.2k words
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She's already bound to the plain wooden chair, a harness of hemp rope criss-crossing her body, when the soft knock comes, so gentle it's almost inaudible. She might have thought she was imagining it, but for the sweep of headlights that had preceded it, the "shush" of tires over gravel. He emerges from the shadows, checking her gag before opening the door.

"I hope you found the house okay," he murmurs as he takes her coat.

The woman comes into view, shaking droplets of rain off her short hair and looking around the living room curiously, eyes dancing over the bound and seated figure. She's compact, curvy, and moves with efficient competence, and her short dress hints tantalizingly at what lies just a few inches up her creamy thighs, fabric snug enough that she can see the lace of the woman's bra.

"No trouble," she says, her voice low and cultured. Something about it makes her feel slightly hot and she squirms in the chair, feeling the hemp tighten against her panties. The woman laughs in a short, breathy way.

"Is that her?"

"Yes," he says, twisting his wedding ring nervously.

"She really is quite naughty. I can see why you'd like to punish her."

The woman walks over, feet catlike on the hard wooden floors, and walks around the seated figure, taking her time. It feels like being x-rayed, and she suddenly feels very vulnerable, nipples hardening between the criss-cross of rope, panties moist. The woman's cool, soft hands brush against her skin as she tests the bonds, makes sure the gag is tight, and when she makes n involuntary noise, the woman pulls back, picks up a rose from the spray on the table, slashes across her chest with it.

The move catches her by surprise, the supple stem whipping her flesh between the lines of rope, and a thorn catches the edge of her nipple, bringing up a single drop of blood. The woman strikes her again, and one more time, before putting the bloom down. A few petals have scattered across the floor and her spiked heels crush them as she leans in, whispering in her ear, too low for her husband to hear.

"I think we understand each other now," she says.

Her husband watches, wide-eyed, as the woman picks up another rose, kicking off her heels and crossing the floor. She runs the bloom along his jaw before pulling him closer, saying something the seated woman can't hear, and the two laugh quietly as they pull away. She skims his chest with her hands, pulling his shirt up and over his shoulders, tossing it away somewhere behind him. The woman sighs as she brushes the rose across his chest, watching his nipples slowly grow taut and swell at the sensation and in the slightly cool breeze of the living room.

She smiles as she pushes him back onto the couch, straddling him and leaning forward to kiss him in a confident, controlling way that makes the seated woman squirm in her bonds again. The woman turns, giving her a long look, and she tries to control herself, clenching her fingers into her palms, knowing she's leaving little half-moon marks behind. The woman kisses him again, trailing down the length of his jaw, his chest, pausing to nibble at his nipple, making him gasp. Her hands trace along with his mouth, lightly and then more firmly at first, nails leaving delicate marks behind him.

She knows he must be getting hard, but the woman doesn't betray it if she's noticed.

He moves his hands towards her short hem but she brushes them away, forcing them onto the couch beside him and holding them with her own while she leans forward again, moving her mouth against his, brushing her lips against his ear, making him shift uncomfortably under her weight and her careful, deliberate attention.

"You like this?" She asks.

He groans, and she smiles, turning triumphantly to his wife. She picks up the rose again as she stands and returns to the chair, standing for a moment in front of the seated figure, watching as she trembles before unexpectedly striking out with the flower, this time across her left thigh, the blossom just barely skimming the complex knots that weave around her panties. She jerks, and the woman frowns.

"I thought you were learning," she said, striking her on the other thigh, and again, bringing it closer and closer to her pussy. Her eyes are wide above the gag and she makes a small noise, the woman leaning forward to sharply twist her nipple.

"Silence," she says, bringing the stem across her breasts. Spent, it fractures across them, thorns digging at her skin. The woman turns, slowly, and unzips her dress, letting it pool on the floor around her as it reveals her lacy deep red undergarments.

She steps out of the dress, kicking it aside as she crosses the room again, straddling him, and this time she doesn't protest as he undoes her bra, letting her full breasts swing free for a moment. He greedily sucks on one and then the other as she arches her back, moaning, and the woman in the chair feels herself getting wet as she watches. The woman is breathing heavily now as she turns, making sure the woman in the chair can see as she unzips her husband's pants. He raises his hips, making it easier for her to tug them off, making the bulge in his boxer-briefs visible. The woman smiles, cupping it with her hand before turning to his wife.

"You like to watch? You want to see how a real woman pleases your man?"

The woman doesn't move, uncertain.

"Answer me," the woman says, in a low, dangerous voice.

She nods, feeling the rasp of the rope against her, and the woman narrows her eyes, pulling his underwear away so his cock can spring free. She thoughtfully runs her hand along it, rolling her palm across the tip for a moment before gracefully folding her legs under her so she's kneeling in a seated position in front of him. She takes up another rose and runs the silky flower along his shaft. When he twitches, she brings it down sharply across his stomach, leaving a welt, and he gasps.

"You're as naughty as she is," she says.

She leans forward, gently brushing his cock with her lips, bringing him so close to the edge that he almost bursts, and then leans away. He brings his hands down to her head and runs his fingers through her hair, trying to pull her forward again, but she shakes him off.

"You're too impatient."

She stands and then straddles him again. His cock strains against her but she ignores it as she kisses him, letting him taste his precum as she runs her hands down his chest, gently brushes his cock with the very tips of her fingers. He takes her breasts in his hands, rolling her nipples in his fingers.

"Good," she breathes, before guiding one of his hands into her lace panties.

He looks at his wife uncertainly, and then moves one finger, then another, fluttering them carefully like he's afraid the woman will pull away again.

"Gentle," she says, as she kisses him and pulls away, standing to pace the room back to his wife. He moves to grab his aching shaft, but she turns, shaking her head. "Ah ah," she says. "That's for me."

"You're not going to speak if I take this off, are you?"

She shakes her head, and the woman gently undoes the silk ties, letting her breasts brush forward as she does. Her panties get even damper as the silky skin brushes against her own, and the woman dips a finger into her lacy briefs before brushing it against her lips.

"Taste," she says. "You like the taste of his hands on me?"

"Y-yes," she stutters.

"Look at him."

She obeys.

"You see how hot he is for me?"

"Y-yes."

"Good," she says, retying the gag and carefully checking her bonds again. Once she's satisfied, she pulls a clamp off the table behind her, gently lowers it over her nipple, releases. The woman in the chair arches her back against her bonds as the sweet sting floods across her, and the woman attaches another, linking them by a fine chain and running it down her chest to her aching pussy. Her lips are so swollen that they're pushing against the rope, and the woman smirks.

"Don't move," she advises, and the woman sees why when even the slight movement of attaching the chain pulls at the clamps, making her spasm with exquisite agony. The movement pulls at them again, and this time she tries to force herself to hold still, but the woman gently brushes against the skin around her nipple and it's like an electric shock, making her twitch again. This time it's a blaze across her body, and she feels something come loose in her cunt, a burst of wetness. It makes her feel like she's floating for a moment, and by the time she looks back up, the woman has crossed the floor again, kneeled.

"Let's see if we can take care of that, shall we? She seems to be a little tied up."

She brings her tongue to the tip of his glistening cock, runs it thoughtfully across it and down the shaft before closing her lips around it, gently bringing her mouth down and back up, teasing his balls with her hands. He groans and runs his fingers through her hair, but every time he's about to come, she pulls back. The woman in the chair watches as his cock seems to get harder and harder, and finally the woman plunges her head, holding nearly his whole cock in her mouth, and he groans, coming hard and fast, his face contorted. The woman in the chair wonders if he's ever looked like that fucking her, and the woman in the red panties seems to sense it as she stands, walking back across the floor.

The woman doesn't need to ask if she'll be quiet before she takes the gag off this time. She pulls slyly at one of the nipple clamps as she leans forward, giving her a lingering kiss. She can feel the taste of her husband on the woman's lips, dripping down the back of her throat, and she bucks under the woman's hands, but the woman doesn't relent. She squirms and moans, making the woman tug the delicate silver chain, and the woman skims her hand into the rope around her pussy, soaked through with her cum.

"You do like to watch," she says, glancing over her shoulder at the man, who lies spent on the couch. She unclips one nipple and then the other, and the sudden rush of blood makes her shudder as another flood of cum soaks the rope.

"You can untie her long enough to service me," the woman says in her silky, deep voice, and the man rises slowly, his cock already rising again. He unwraps his wife slowly, carefully, like a package, and when the woman loses patience and slaps him with another rose, he picks up the pace. Finally she's loose, trembling in the chair with loops of rope scattered across the floor, and the woman pulls her upright.

"Restrain her," the woman says, and he does, pulling her arms behind her back and locking them in leather cuffs. The woman sits in the chair, surveying them for a moment.

"Make her kneel," she says, and he pushes her down so she's kneeling between the woman's thighs while he stands behind her. His cock is rock-hard again, and it brushes against her as he moves.

"Take these off," she says gesturing at her panties, and he moves forward obediently, reaching out. "Not you. Her."

He steps back, and his hand strays to his cock as she leans forward, grasping the edge of the woman's underwear in her teeth, preparing to pull them down.

"Stop that," the woman says, reaching behind her for a rose and whacking him so quickly that the movement is almost instantaneous. He lowers his hands.

"Go sit down," she says.

His wife has pulled the woman's underwear down, tasting the slightly spicy scent of her, and the woman steps out of them, pushing them aside with a delicate foot. She guides her hands behind her head, pulling it forward, and the woman darts her tongue out carefully, running it along her lips, feeling her move under her mouth. She twists and winds her tongue around the woman's clit, which is hardening under her attentions, and smiles to herself.

"Don't be smug," the woman says, lashing her across the back with one of the flowers.

The woman tastes like cinnamon and apricots and honey, filling quickly with cream, but her body remains nearly motionless. It becomes almost a challenge, a game, trying to get her to make a move or a sound that wasn't deliberately, carefully planned. Finally, the wife succeeds, the woman jolting across the chair, a gush of cum streaming across it and trickling onto the floor.

"Good," she hisses, standing. "Now clear up your mess."

She watches as the wife licks the chair, tapping her foot against the floor until it's clean again, and then the woman undoes her hands, forces her to sit again, ties her smoothly and efficiently. This harness is much simpler, a series of delicate crosses to keep her bound to the chair while leaving her tits and cunt exposed. The woman steps back for a moment to look her over, and seems indecisive for a moment.

"Hmm," she says. "Can you be a good girl for me?"

The woman nods, the taste of cum still filling her mouth.

"I wonder," the woman says, thoughtfully.

She turns to the table again, picking up the clamps and reattaching them, but this time she has another pair, and she stations them carefully along the lips of her pussy, smiling to herself when she's rewarded by a jerk and a sudden intake of breath.

"Please," the seated woman says.

"I told you to be a good girl," she says. "Good girls don't speak unless spoken to."

She gags her again and then attaches the silver chain, watching the wife twist under her fingers.

"That should keep her busy for a while," she says, turning back to the man on the couch. She picks up an object from the table and kneels in front of him, slipping it carefully over his cock and securing it. His dick quickly engorges, pulling away from his body, and the woman smiles as she carefully lowers herself onto it, moving slowly at first, and then more quickly, stopping when she senses that he's about to come. He's groaning and she breathes heavily as the woman in the chair watches, tears of pain springing to her eyes every time she moves.

She stands, and he groans with frustration as the woman looks at him, smiling. Her cum drips across the floor and finally he rises, unable to take it anymore, kissing her fiercely, hands running along her body as he pushes her across the room, slams her into the wall, takes her in a few hard, sharp thrusts. She screams, guttural, and he shouts as he comes, but when he tries to pull out, she holds him there, digging her nails into his back, pulling them both to the floor in a tangle of limbs. They breathe heavily there, the smell of sex and sweat filling the room as the woman in the chair moans with need.

Finally the woman lets him go, and he stands up, his softened cock already stirring again. He brushes her breasts with his hands as she stands on tiptoes to murmur something into his ear, laughing, and brings her hands expertly down to his cock, coaxing it into hardness again. His wife watches as they cross the room to stand in front of her, and the woman leans down to pull gently at the chain.

"You liked watching that, didn't you? You wish that was you, against the wall?"

She nods, and the woman twists the chain in her hand. She squirts, the fluid spattering across the floor as her body strains against the chair and then collapses again. The woman reaches down, flicking a finger against her clit, feeling it swell, and even though it's so sensitive that she almost can't bear it, the woman still moves her hand against it, clearly pleased by how slick she is.

"You're a naughty girl," she said. "You're supposed to save yourself for your husband."

The woman in the chair twists, and she reaches to the table again, pulling out a vibrator, which buzzes menacingly as she lowers it, teases it along the length of her dripping cunt, pushes it against her throbbing clit. It makes the chain jangle, pulling at her nipples, and she can see her husband getting hard as he watches, finally leaning forward to run his hands along her exposed skin, leaving a trail like fire behind. She cums again and again against the vibrator — she can't help herself — and each time, the woman scolds her.

Finally she puts the vibrator away, but when she turns back, she's holding a huge dildo. The woman in the chair makes a small noise and the woman leans forward to unclip one nipple and then the other, then her lips, making her groan against the gag.

"Good girls doesn't need to be punished," she says, as she slides the dildo in, making her feel painfully full, and then anchors it in place with a new tie, leaving the woman impaled on its shaft. The woman smirks as she pulls her husband back to the couch and sits, leaning back.

"Fuck me," she says, "and let your little wife see how it's really done."

He sinks the whole of his cock into her and she moans, telling him to go harder, faster, as the two shudder and groan on the couch. The cock ring forces him to stay hard for far longer than he's ever kept it up for her, and the woman seems to relish her pounding, running her hands down his back, leaving gouges with her nails. She comes again and again, in waves, and finally they both come together, lying entwined on the couch. She kisses his lazily and he runs a hand along her spine, grasping her ass tightly for a moment. Her nipples are hard and her cunt is, unbelievably, still trickling cum.

Eventually she stands up, crosses the room to pull the dildo out of the woman on the chair but leaving her tied in place, helpless. She puts her bra back on, tucking her perfect breasts away again although her nipples are still hard through the fabric, and she steps back into the dress and her heels.

"She's all opened up for you," the woman says, "and I think she learned her lesson."

He was too exhausted to move, so he watched her mutely as she crossed the room, carefully picked her coat off the rack, opened the door, leaving the wife fully visible to anyone who might be passing by.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she said, slipping out and quietly closing it behind her.

It's only later that they realize she left her panties behind.

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AnonymousAnonymousabout 8 years ago
Fun story ...

It's a fun story and well-written, but it presents some problems with pronouns: "she" can be either the wife or the visitor in several moments of the story and it's distracting. Still, we enjoyed it a lot.

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