fa**** Posted May 28 Posted May 28 Holly pulls her anonymous little red Fiat 500 into a spare parking space outside one of the hundreds of identical detached houses on the estate, makes sure her big sunglasses are obscuring her face and pulls the hat down a little further, nervous as always about being spotted by the neighbours. She leaves the car and steps quickly into the porch of the house, the door unlocked as always. Once the door is closed and bolted, the obscured glass means she can't be seen from the outside, and she can get herself ready in private. She hangs up her coat and steps out of her sensible driving shoes, leaving her standing in creme lingerie, and steps into a pair of creme heels she had in her bag. Making sure everything is tidied away, she takes a deep breath, rings the doorbell and knees expectantly. It seems like an age before the door opens, giving her time to think about what's really happening. Here she is, successful business owner, mother of 3, devoted wife and pillar of the local community, kneeling in front of an anonymous door in a creme bodice which is pushing her already fabulous and tits up and together and nipping her waist in, wearing a pair of creme lace stocking, a three strand pearl necklace and not a lot else. They met online many years ago and came to an arrangement that worked well for them both. Neither could afford for their affair to be public, and neither wanted their partners to find out, but they couldn't keep their hands off one another. They both needed what the other could give them. It's not the first time, it's not even the tenth time, but it's a rare treat these days; they are both so busy that getting a chance to spend an evening together only happens once or twice a year. Finally, the door opened, and she was looking at his black polished shoes, pin-striped trousers, white shirt and waistcoat. "Good evening, Holly." "Good evening, Sir." "Are you ready to give yourself over for the next few hours?" "Yes, Sir, I am." It had become routine, starting their evenings this way, her accepting her place, him asserting his; from that point on, they both knew what the rules were. He bent down and unclasped the pearly necklace, setting it aside. "Very pretty, matching the outfit so well, but not appropriate for this evening, do you think?" "No, Sir, I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't think." Holly finds herself saying, knowing that she'd chosen the pearls because they were perfect and expensive and drew attention to her neck. He reached around behind her, lifting her blond hair out of the way and buckled a black leather collar into place. She knows which it is. It's covered in D rings and has "Slut Wife" marked out in rhinestones. It's incredibly trashy and incredibly hot at the same time. "There we go, that's better, come on in now." She follows behind him, on her hands and knees, staying at his ankle like she's been trained, thankful for the deep carpets and not having to kneel on hard wooden floors or tiles. "I have a treat for you this evening; you're going to get to choose for once." "Choose Sir?" Holly is so used to not having to choose on evenings like this; it's part of what she gets off on. Somebody else makes the decisions; her job is to do what she's told, hold the position, swallow the cock, stretch her cheeks apart, and take what she's given. No choices is almost the point. "Stand up, hands behind your back; there's a good girl." She stands, pushing her hair behind her ears, and takes note of where they are his study. There's an ottoman right behind her, pushed back against the wall under a steel loop set into the wall, and a wingbacked armchair in front of her, facing her, in a very odd place. A wood-burning stove is on, and the room is too hot; she can feel herself starting to sweat. He opens the top of the ottoman and lifts out an armful of rough-looking hessian ropes and a Hitachi wand vibrator, setting them all down on the ottoman. He ties her hands behind her back, not hard, but inescapable, looping the rope around her tightly cinched waist and securing them to it. Then he loops rope around her chest, above and below her tits, tight enough to be uncomfortable. She knows what's coming next. He dips his hand into the cups of her bodice, pulling her tits out over the cups, and with a few more loops of rope around them, over her shoulders and finally tied, she's standing with her tits firmly bound, slightly swollen and her pussy absolutely throbbing. A cock gag is pushed into her mouth and buckled behind her head. It's not huge, not like the inflatable one she once filled her with, but it's big enough to make her gag a little and concentrate on her breathing. Finally, after a lot of fiddling around behind her, she realises that the magic wand has been secured to the ottoman, and she's got some idea of what he has planned. He's going to make her straddle it like a Symbian toy and ride it for his entertainment, probably encouraging her with a riding crop to her tits or threatening to fuck her arse if she doesn't cum on demand. They've played this, and so many other games, many times before. "Step backwards, straddle the ottoman." She does, a little awkwardly, it's wider than she expected, but she ends up looking down at it, unable to see the Hitachi for her own tits, making sure her feet in their heels are evenly spaced, breathing through her nose. "Sit on it, don't get too comfortable." She lowers herself onto the wand, its body running back between her arse cheeks, her pussy grinding against it. She'll have to lean over to get it to rub her clit, but she'll find a way to stay balanced. He knees in front of her, fastening a new rope between her tits, pulling its long loops through, and finally typing it off to a ring set in the ottoman. It dangles in front of her, not tight, loose, in fact. What is he up to? Holly knows that he knows his ropes and knots; this is not a mistake, but that rope doesn't hold her down onto the vibrator, and they both know it. "Stand again, back nice and straight." Holly stands, back not perfectly straight, because of her tied wrists. At least this time, he'd not tied her elbows together. She knew how amazing it looked; he'd taken photographs and shown her the prints, but it was so uncomfortable and restrictive, even if it did make her look amazing. As she stands, she understands the new rope. It's only three-quarters of the length needed, so now her bound and sensitive tits are being pulled down towards her waist, making them ache even more. She gasped slightly at his deviousness. He knew exactly what was going to happen and when she would realise, and then she had a second revelation: why should he need to stand up at all? The answer comes quickly, as a loop is looped through the D rings on her collar and fastened to the ring set in the wall. It's also not quite tight enough, but even now, Holly can feel her collar pulling tight into her throat, making breathing that little bit harder. Lastly, a pair of shiny steel nipple clamps are snapped into place, pinching her already swollen nipples, He steps back, admiring his work, a smirk on his face. Leading down, he turns on the vibrator. "Get yourself off for me. I'm going to watch you cum Holly; I'm going to enjoy watching you struggle to choose between the vibrator and breathing." He steps back, unbuckling his belt, letting his trousers slide to his ankles and freeing his magnificent cock, holding it in his hand as he sits back into the armchair to watch. "I SAID TO GET YOURSELF OFF FOR ME SLUT!" He says, very firmly, Holly realising she has no choice in the matter. She lowers herself onto the vibrator, feeling the pressure on her tits ease as she sinks almost to her knees, the collar pulling tight and her air being cut off. She leads forward, pulling the collar even tighter, mashing her pussy into the strong vibrations, closing her eyes to try and focus, but before she knows it, she's standing again, dragging in the hot air in the room up her nose, desperate for breath. Meanwhile, he stares at her dispassionately, stroking his cock and waiting for her to *** herself again and again and again. And so she does, lowering herself onto the magic wand, pressing herself into it for as long as she can manage, then standing, her tits being pulled hard, the ropes digging even deeper into her soft sweat-soaked flesh, as she gasps for air, grabbing a couple of breath before lowering herself again, repeating the cycle until she's so wound up, so frustrated and horny, dripping with sweat and pussy juices, dazed and confused with the lack of air and the intense fucking. Eventually, she's almost there, right on the cusp of an orgasm which will feel like drowning in more ways than one. She looks up into his eyes, asking for permission to cum, a mistake she'd made several times and almost always regretted. He nods, bringing his chin up in a positive way, and strokes his cock faster. Holly sinks onto the vibrator again, this time leading forward on her collar, taking almost all the weight off her feet so that she is almost impaled on the head on the Hitachi, her clit squashed against it, her lips on either side of its grey rubber head, and finally, she cums, squirming, screaming into her gag, delirious and dizzy, sodding through her nose, and finally almost passing out. He steps up to her, lifting her to her feet, and unbuckles the gag. She gasps for air as she holds her, untying the rope that she had ***d herself on for him and finally letting her sink back onto the still-running vibrator. She squirms a little to find her balance, then he pushes his cock into her mouth, always the way back, and holding her by her hair, fucks her face, sawing himself back and forth, ignoring the gaps and gagging noises, as she comes again as he pushes himself right to the back of her throat and cums himself, his cock pulsing and a seemingly endless rope of cum is ***d down her throat, some of it coming back up and out of her nose, burning saltily. Eventually, he untied her, lifted her from the ottoman, and carried her in his arms to a sofa where she lay in his arms, exhausted, red hot, covered in sweat and cum, the rope bruises just starting to show, and she does and makes mewling sounds as her strokes her. "Next time you ride that contraption, I'm going to add a very long dildo right up your arse." he ponders. "I didn't think you'd cope this time." "Mmmm, please, Sir, that would be perfect." She hears herself saying, already forgetting quite how intense it was without being airtight. "Next time slut, next time. Think of this next time you're waiting at the school gates."
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