T S Fesslen

A Friend in Deed (A Sequel To A Friend In Need) “Okay, I give up. What are you smiling about?” Steven asked his wife as she drove them home. “Oh I was just thinking some kinky thoughts, dear,” Lori replied, glancing over at her husband of eight years. Steven looked over at his wife and grinned, “And what kinky thoughts might those be, my darling?” A mischievous smile crossed Lori’s lips, “You will just have to wait and see, dear. But I know you will like it.” Steven would have tried to prod an answer out of his raven-haired wife, but he knew her too well. She would not say another word about it, even if he threatened her with binding and flogging her. Of course, that is what she would have wanted anyway. The thoughts of his wife being bound and perhaps having some new toy to play with flooded his mind as they crept through rush hour traffic on their way home. Steven was very, very glad that their house was not that far of a drive. -o0o- Kim didn’t know how long she lay there hogtied and naked on her friend’s wooden floor. She could hear Lori’s grandfather clock silently ticking away in the hallway but she couldn’t see it no matter how much she struggled. Kim tried not to struggle too much though, since she was now exhausted from not one but two orgasms that she had while she laid there. The warm, lusty afterglow still filled her and she was afraid that any more friction between her legs would start something she would be too worn out to finish. The blonde could see herself in the reflection off of the glass cabinet doors and she could hardly believe it was herself. Her pale skin was flushed from her exertions and her long blonde hair was in tangles. But it was what she saw in her dark-blue eyes that told her that she had made the right choice by letting her friend Lori tie her up. Now all she could do is savor the anticipation of having Lori’s husband Steve enjoy her like this. Kim listened to what little traffic passed the house, hoping one would finally pull into the driveway. One finally did. A flood of wanton feelings flowed through Kim as she heard the car doors slam shut and the muffled sounds of Lori and her husband Steve walking towards the front door. “Now dear, you will wait fifteen minutes before you come in so I can get things ready,” Kim heard Lori say, “Everything you see you have permission to use. And I do mean everything.” “You are sounding more and more like a Dom, you know?” Steven replied. “I have a good teacher,” Lori leaned over and kissed her husband, “Now stay here and don’t peek or you won’t get your surprise.” Kim heard the keys in the lock and squirmed enough around so she could see Lori come through the door. She put a slender finger to her lips as she set down her purse and knelt down beside her captive friend with all the gracefulness of a cat. “Now, Kim, you don’t want to spoil Steve’s surprise, now, do you?” She asked, looking down at her friend with those dark, trusting eyes. Kim shook her head. “That is a good girl,” Lori said patting her friend on the head as if she were a beloved pet, “Now, not another sound. . .sshhhhhhhh.” Kim watched as her friend and former professor get up and begin to unbutton her blouse. It wasn’t like the first time she watched her friend disrobe, rather this time was much more seductive. Lori took her time; knowing Kim was watching, slowly easing the blouse over her shoulders and onto the floor. Lori’s lace bra was next followed by her dark skirt and matching thong. Tall and slender and beautifully olive skinned, Lori was one of the most attractive people that Kim had ever met. Lori always kept her raven-colored hair long and curly and her dark eyes always seemed to speak of unrestrained kindness. Kim’s friend had not moved the black nylon athletic bag and Kim watched in fascination as Lori pulled from it a carefully chosen selection of padlocks, black leather straps and a black gag similar to Kim’s red one. After setting each on the floor beside Kim, Lori knelt down beside her friend and fastened the gag tightly into her mouth. The brunette looked over at her bound blonde friend and smiled around the gag. Next Lori picked up a pair of leather straps and fastened them around her slight ankles before fastening another pair around her thighs. Bending her calves tightly against her thighs, she fastened each ankle strap to the one on her thigh, welding her legs into a kneeling position. The last pair of leather straps she buckled around each of her wrists and then, carefully, locked them behind her back. Lori tested her bindings a bit, making sure that there wasn’t any slack before scooting in beside Kim. Kim could just picture what Lori’s husband would see when he walked through the door, both of them bound and ready for him to do as he pleased. The thought sent ripples of pleasure through Kim. It seemed like forever before the door opened and Steve to walk in. When he did, he took one glance at the both of them and just froze. He could not believe his eyes. One of his most desired fantasies was lying on the floor in front of him. Two lovely women, naked, bound and gagged, squirming for his attention. “Is this for real or just a dream?” Steve finally asked. Lori nodded her head and moaned a ‘yes’ through her gag. “Kim,” he looked down at the young blonde, “I am shocked, though in a very good way. Are you okay with this?” Kim nodded her head. It was VERY okay with her. Already she had started rocking her hips, letting the rope between her legs begin to pleasure her again. It was really the first time she had really looked at Steve to see how attractive he really was. He was powerfully built from the years he had spent in the gym. He had at one time he had played football for his high school team but really didn’t have the talent to go much further than that. He had a curly black hair, a ‘chiseled’ but handsome face and dark eyes that seemed full of mischief and laughter. Now those dark eyes were drinking in all of Kim’s naked loveliness. “Lori didn’t trick you into this, did she?” he asked Kim. The blonde girl shook her head. “You made you decision on your own,” Steve said, more of a statement than a question. Kim nodded her head again, the desire within her growing. “Did Lori explain to you the safe words and such?” “Uuuuh-huuhhh,” Kim moaned into her gag, nodding her head. “So you are ready to get started?” Again, Kim nodded and squirmed in her bonds. She had never felt so wanton and sexy before in her entire life. Here she was, bound and helpless and Steve could do anything he wanted to her and she was helpless to stop it. True, she could stop it is she said the safe word or hummed the safe tune into her gag, but he could always ignore it. That is what made the rush so hot. She just wished he would take her and release her lust now. To Kim’s chagrin, Steven turned from her and knelt down beside his wife. Without a word, he kissed her just behind her ear and whispered a thank you to her. His touches were gentle as he cradled her and looked into each other’s eyes. He never loved someone so much in his life. She had given him the ultimate gift and there were really no other words to express it. He mouthed the words ‘I Love You’ and got up. Steve knelt over his new blonde captive and undid her gag. Not that it would remain out for very long, but he had to ask her a few questions that could not be answered by a simple yes or no. Kim’s jaw ached a bit after Steve removed her gag, but not unpleasantly so. Gently he rolled the blonde unto her side and looked her in her eyes. He could tell that she was hungry for some attention not only by the way she was straining against the ropes, but also the messages her blue eyes flashed. “Now I know Lori must have discussed limits with you and you know we are not into the pain thing at all. Are there any other boundaries you I need to know about?” Steve asked. Kim just looked straight into Steve’s eyes, “Just fuck me.” Steve laughed. “That is all I need to know,” he said as he pushed the gag back into Kim’s mouth before turning to his wife. “Is that okay with you, my darling?” Steven asked. Slowly, Lori nodded her head. Actually, she didn’t think the question would feel so disheartening as it did. However, she had only herself to blame and she knew that whatever might transpire between Kim and her husband, it would not affect Steve’s love for her. “Well, my two slaves, we need to get you to a more comfortable place. I think the bedroom will be much better suited for this endeavor. Lori, you first.” Steven wrestled his wife up into a kneeling position before lifting her up onto the couch. He took a breath, enjoying the sight of his wife’s nude, bound body. He then hoisted her over his shoulder and started up the stairs, giving her well-rounded ass a playful slap or two just to keep his wife in the mood. A little while passed as Kim lay there, wondering what was going on up stairs and what Steve would do to her. The blonde’s libido was crammed into high gear but the rope between her legs was not doing the job. Thank goodness it didn’t take long for Steve to come back down stairs to collect his new slave. “Ready,” he asked. Kim nodded, moaning into her gag. “I have something very special in mind for you,” Steven said as he wrestled her up onto the couch and into a kneeling position then put her over his shoulder like he had his wife Lori. Kim wasn’t the only one horny as hell. Steve’s mind was in a whirlwind of erotic fantasies and scenarios. However, there was one thing that troubled him and that was his commitment to his wife. Even though they had discussed numerous times about having a third person join them in their games, it was always in context of a fantasy and something that he never thought would really happen. Steven was in love with his wife, very much so, and the thought of possibly hurting her by making love to Kim kept pricking at him like a painful hangnail. Then, as he reached the top of the stairs, he thought up a solution, one that would not force him to make a choice to whom to make love with first. Steve grinned at his solution as he went down the short hallway and into their bedroom. It was if a heavy blanket had been whisked away and all that remained was the fresh excitement of a new frontier. Kim strained to see how he had Lori tied as he carried her into the bedroom. She also was looking for any hints about how she would be made helpless as well. The bedroom of the Schroeder house was one of the few rooms of the house she had never seen. Like the rest of the house, it had been lovingly restored with polished wood floors, dark wood beams and wainscoting throughout the room. A huge, canopied four-post bed dominated the room with its carved cherry-wood columns and forest green velvet drapes. However, it was Lori that captured Kim’s attention the most. The brunette stood beside the bed, bent over. Lori’s legs were held wide apart by rope tied to her ankles and looped around the bed’s feet. Her wrists were bound tightly together and pulled up towards the canopy frame, binding Lori into a helpless strappado position. A smile caressed Lori’s lips around her bright red ballgag as her dark eyes met Kim’s. Steven plopped the blonde down on the bed opposite his wife. His member ached with desire and he what he wanted more than anything to take Kim and his wife and fuck them for all he was worth. But good things come to those who wait and Steve mentally chanted that mantra as he began to undo Kim’s wrists from her ankles. “Are your bindings okay?” Steve asked as checked the ropes around her wrists and elbows. Kim nodded, moaning into her gag. The feel of Steve’s fingers was electric as he gently pushed her from side to side, unweaving the rope dress that Lori had wove her into. Lastly, he eased the rope from between her legs, causing her to gasp with a bolt of pleasure. “Me thinks she’s a bit sensitive,” Steven grinned as he untied the blonde’s ankles. Kim blushed. She couldn’t remember the last time anybody had caused her to blush in such a wanton fashion. Perhaps it was as far back as the first tentative unbuttoning of her blouse in the backseat of her high school boyfriend’s Plymouth Valiant. Whenever it was, it was not nearly as powerful as the one that heated her soul at this moment. Grabbing Kim’s hips, Steve pulled her off the bed and helped her to stand, facing her friend Lori. “Okay, spread your legs apart,” Steven ordered her. The blonde hesitated a bit before complying, spreading her legs apart as she had seen Lori had done. “Further.” Again, Kim did as she was told, stretching her legs out further. “Good girl,” Steven smiled as he gave his captive blonde a playful swat on her ass. Kim looked down to see Steve kneeling at her feet, tying her legs apart just as he had Lori’s. She knew now that she was going to be tied exactly like her friend. Steve then pulled Kim’s bound wrists up toward the canopy frame, forcing her to bend forward a bit. Steven stepped back and admired his handiwork. Both women looked stunning as they stood bound facing each other. Both women wriggling and checking their bonds. Steve knew Lori did it to turn him on. Kim, however, was genuinely testing her bondage and finding out just how helpless she really was. As pleasing as it was to watch both of his captives, there were things he needed to get done. “Well, if you will excuse me ladies, I have one last little thing to get prepared. Please continue without me. It should only take a moment.” Both women moaned their disapproval as Steven left the room to retrieve the black bag downstairs. Lori looked up at her friend Kim and wondered what was going through the young blonde’s mind. Kim was probably as horny as she was, maybe even more so. Lori knew how well Steven could tease a woman. One of the first times Steven had tied her, she remembered, it felt like ages before he let her orgasm. But what an orgasm it was. It flooded her with a mind-numbing bliss that she had never ever had felt before. Even the thoughts of that night started to fan the embers of lust within Lori and she wanted so badly to feel her husband within her. “Ladies, I am glad to see you are both still here,” Steven said hold a coil of twine and two identical slender wand vibrators. When Lori found something that worked, she usually bought multiples of them just to make sure she would have a supply of them. Her toys were no exception. The slick chrome vibrators wove their magic spell on more than one occasion, especially in Steven’s expert hands. The brunette noticed, however, that the twine was tied around the base of each one. “Since Kim is our guest, I think I will start with her,” Steven said as he placed one of the vibrators on the bed and stepped around in back of Kim with the other. Gently, Steve passed the chrome wand between the blonde’s legs. Kim moaned with his touch. After pulling the vibrator through as well as some length of twine, he gently opened the moistened lips of Kim’s sex. Kim felt his fingers tenderly slip up and down her slit, causing her to whine loudly into her gag. Waves of pleasure began to radiate through Kim as she thrust herself back at him. Her furnace of wanton desire was now glowing hot and getting hotter with every stroke. Kim found herself nearly wailing when he stopped his caresses only to feel the hard, cold shaft of the vibrator being pushed into her. “Now, Kim, it is important that you keep your silver friend within you and not loose him. If you do, you will spend the night hogtied on the end of the bed while I pay attention only to my lovely wife.” Steven knew as he grabbed the other vibe that his Lori was going to be just as wet as their guest. Just as he had Kim, Steven passed the slender wand between Lori’s legs as well as some of the twine and he began to ease it into her. Though it was not her husband filling her, the vibrator was a very welcome substitute. Without turning it on, he slowly began to thrust it in and out of her, adding to her already smoldering desire. However, just as she was enjoying the rhythm, he stopped leaving the device inside her. Moaning her displeasure through her gag, she watched as her husband climbed onto the bed and produced from his pocket two large ‘S’ hooks which he hung in the center of the canopy frame about a foot apart from each other. Carefully, he took the center of the twine to which each of the vibrators were attached and hung it over each of the hooks. Lastly, he pulled out a pair of narrow looking pinecones. “Okay, ladies, pay attention. These are a pair of weights stolen from an old, defunct cuckoo clock. I am going to hang these weights from the twine after I turn on each of your toys. The first one to loose her vibrator will spend the rest of the evening hogtied, watching the other get my full, undivided attentions. If you understand, please nod your head. Both women nodded the heads, though the look on their faces was not altogether happy. “Good, let us begin.” Steven crawled off the bed and went behind his wife, giving her a playful swat on her ass. Tenderly, he reached between her legs and turned her vibrator on high. It’s hum soon sent flares of bliss raging through Lori, making her moan loudly behind her gag. Even as the pleasure blazed through her, Lori knew with the vibrator buzzing as it was it was going to be hard to concentrate and grip the vibe within her. Next, Steve went around and did the same to Kim’s slender vibe. The feeling was absolutely electric as Steven slipped it in and Kim found herself shuddering as a mini-orgasm engulfed her. Steven felt sorry for poor Kim and held the vibe within her as she thrashed in her bonds, letting the orgasm consume her. Only when she calmed down did he let go of the humming dildo and climb onto the bed. One at a time, Steven the hung the weights on the twine between the two hooks. The slack in the line drew taught and Lori could feel it pressing against her swollen clit, sending a sharp flash of pleasure through her. Even though she wanted Kim to feel what it was like to be bound and made love to, Lori wanted her husband even more and she was determined to win this little competition of Stevens. Equally, Kim wanted Steve to fuck her more than she had ever wanted a man to fuck her before. She was like a cat in heat, writhing to the hum of her vibrator as she clamped down as hard as she could to make sure that it did not pull out of her. It was a terrible torture to the bound blonde. She could feel another fiery orgasm building within her as the vibe hummed it’s magic inside her. Her moans from behind her gag became louder and louder as the fires stoked by the first orgasm began to build a grander pyre within her. ‘Splat!’ Kim yelped into her gag more out of surprise than any sort of pain as Steven swatted her rear. The spank nearly caused her to loose her vibrating implement. She then felt his fingers brushing gently over the curves of her shoulders and down the curves of her sides. Each of his touches was another flicker of pleasure. His hands ran over her skin as he pressed against her. Through Steven’s Dockers, she could feel his erection and Kim tried to grind her ass against him, trying to get him to forget this maddening game and take her. The captive blonde mewled as Steve roughly kneaded her nipples. Her very soul was a firestorm of ecstasy as the orgasm that was building within her crested in an eruption of pure bliss. In her writhing, Kim’s vibrator slipped out, causing her to scream in frustration. Steven reached down behind her and slipped his finger between her lips, tickling her swollen clit until she cried and thrashed about, unable to take any more but unable to stop him. Finally, he took pity on Kim, giving her another swat before going over to his bound wife. Steven quickly stripped and positioned himself behind Lori. He could tell by the quickening of her whimpers that she was very close to the edge. He eased the vibrator from within her and spread her swollen lips. Then, he pushed himself into her. The feel of her husband inside of her was ecstatic and nearly caused her to cum right then. But she forced herself back onto him and began to match his thrusts. Lori wanted to cum when he did. Faster and faster Steven pounded her, grasping her hips and pulling her back onto him. All the sexual desire building up within him was now focused on his wife. Her moans became more like gruntings as their pace quickened. After years of marriage, she knew when he was about to cum. His hot seed sprayed into her and fed her own volcanic orgasm as she exploded into a frenzy of pure ecstasy. Slowly, they both slowed and Steven slipped from between his wife’s legs, spent. Both women were limp from their pleasure as Steven began to relieve them of some of their bonds. Steven turned to Kim, “I guess you are going to have to stay the night. Let’s get you a bit more comfortable.” The End (?) Dear readers, would you like to see more stories about Kim, Lori and Steven, please write me and let me know. You can e-mail me at [email protected] or visit my blog at http://fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ T.S. ...

Kimberly walked down the Mall downtown, glad to be out of her cracker box apartment. It was Christmas break and she really didn’t have anywhere to go. Her parents were spending the holidays in London, something they had always wanted to do, and her older sister decided to spend some ‘quality’ time with her new boyfriend. Kim had spent Christmas alone with her pet cat Simon, opening up her few presents and dangling the ribbons for Simon to play with. When Lori called and asked her to grab a bite to eat, Kim immediately said yes. ...

The furniture store was dark and quiet as an empty church as Elizabeth pulled up in back of it. The whole block was that way. Not a creature was stirring and the thick blanket of snow muffled what little noise there was. The traffic light on the corner was blinking it’s yellow signal to no one. However, what did she expect at three o’clock in the morning on a Monday. ...

Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depiction’s of rape, bondage and sex, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below. Permission is granted for private use. The author wishes any agencies that wish to publish this work, to please contact him at [email protected]. Any comments are gladly accepted and encouraged. ...

(story continues from On French Soil 9 - “Unto the weary and all-watched night”) Chapter 10 “A peaceful and sweet retire” Catherine listened to Edward’s breathing, her head rising and falling as she rested on his chest. She had not realized it, but she missed this Englishman’s flesh; the rough down of his chest against her cheek, the slick musk of his labors, the rumble of his heart inside him like the gallop of a stallion. All these things strangely comforted her as she lay curled, still bound, beside this English knight. How she wished her wrists were not tied behind her. She so wanted to run her hands over this knight’s breast and cradle his sleeping form to her bosom. Sleep eluded Catherine. It was like a songbird whose song one could hear yet cannot find its singer. She was tired and being here against Edward filled her with an ease that she had never felt before, yet the events of the night and the past few days kept her mind awake as well as the warmth stirring in her quim. Edward stirred a bit beside her, his arm reaching around her. “Are you awake, my dear ransom Catherine?” Edward said in his gruff French. “Yes, Englishman, my lord, I am.” Edward smiled, his strong arms bringing the slight Catherine closer to him. The French captive looked up at Edward with her dark eyes and smiled. “What, pray tell, are your thoughts?” he asked. His fingertips began to trace lightly over her smooth back. “It is not my position to say, my lord. I am, by-the-by, your ransom; to do with as you will.” Edward grinned at this. The game was afoot and his coney still was baiting him. It was now a game of words with Catherine. “And if it was my will to know your mind, dear ransom, would you then tell me?” “I would not. I am your ransom. My flesh and my blood are yours to do with as you will, but my soul is still Gods and mine. You cannot force a thought from me just as you cannot crush milk from a butterfly, my lord.” Edward thought on this a bit. He sat up and began to untie the binding about Catherine’s wrists. “You are free to go, my butterfly.” Catherine looked in Edwards’ dark hazel eyes. “You play me a simpkin, my Englishman lord,” Catherine replied. Edward kept silent, his arms crossed across his chest. “You know what lies for me beyond these walls of stone,” Catherine continued as she stood up beside her bed. “What, pray tell, my dear ransom Catherine, lie beyond these walls. . .your precious Mother France, whose bosom you will go to with open arms,” Edward smiled as he looked upon her slender, marble-like form glistening in the morning light. A cathedral angel made flesh. Catherine’s eyes narrowed, “I need not remind you, English knight, of what evils lurk out there for one such as myself. Unescorted and without a single piece of silver to my name, I would be little but a scrap of meat amongst hungry wolves.” “A very lovely scrap, yes,” Edward grinned. “I am your ransom, English Knight,” she continued, “You cannot shirk the responsibility to this. . .” Catherine pointed to her breast, “. . .your ransom! You took me and now my life is in your hands.” The grin had disappeared off of Edward’s face. Indeed, Catherine was his ransom, even though his feelings towards this fiery daughter of D’Astier were growing more binding with each hour. He was bound by the rules of war to keep his ransom safe until her ransom was paid or until it was not paid. Edward had not even sent word to Philip D’Astier letting him know that his daughter was now in the hands of one Edward de Valence. In his passions, Edward had almost forgot the reason why he had searched for Catherine in the ruins of Harfleur. Catherine looked directly into Edward’s stern, hazel eyes, “I am your ransom, my dear English knight.” -o0o- Outside, the mists that clung to the gray morning like ghosts over a grave, slowly letting loose the ground. A pale sun greeted the both besiegers and the besieged. A column of smoke still cloaked the second tower from the night’s fire. The men awoke and coughed and cursed and spat and itched and prepared themselves for another day, the victory of the past few days lost in the daily routine of war. Death still breathed in the smoke. Richard had not gone to bed. He walked slowly through his retinue and though he saw their faces and heard their voices, they were like a far away tolling of a bell. His tired mind was thick with thoughts that he knew better than to have. Edward de Valance, his lord, had done much for Richard, including shedding his blood for Richard. There was nothing that Richard would not do for this man. However, this ransom of his, this raven-haired beauty, was unlike any woman he had know and the thought of her heated his loins. Best not to think on it, Richard, thought. Another day of siege was at hand and the second tower should soon be taken. “Life is too short, my dear Richard, to be so dark,” a warm lilting Irish voice said to him. “Margaret?” he replied. “It looks as if you have the weight of many a catapult stone upon your brow, my dear lord sergeant,” Margery smiled as she got up from her spot, an emptied keg. In her hand she cradled a ceramic mug. “It has been a hard siege, Margaret.” “To a woman likes me, dear Richard, whose son is still carrying a sharpened sword, everyday of this cursed war is as hard as an iron helm.” Richard looked around to see if anyone had heard, “I would speak silently of this, Margery. King Harry’s work here is blessed by God.” “I know, my dear Richard. At times I think this is an atonement for the sins of my flesh.” Richard hugged the redheaded washerwoman close to him and whispered, “You have been a comfort to me, Margery, more so than any stone saint staring out from a cathedral niche.” “You should not say such things, my sergeant. It is ill favored.” Richard did not smile as he looked down at Margery, “My soul is already burning and will continue to burn long after the I die.” Margery read the pain in Richard Corfes’ blue eyes. She had seen it too many times before. They were the eyes of a man to whom singing arrows and slashing blades mean as much as a stroll through a meadow ripe with spring. Richard’s eyes had seen too many men scream and cry and curse at their own mortal wounds. Richard did not know how to wash the blood from his hands. “Come,” she said. Margery lead the sergeant through to a where she had made her tent, inside the skeletal remains of what was once a bake house. Now all that remained was a stone chimney and oven and a few blackened timbers. Her tent, stained and patched from many years of travel in Wales and Scotland as well as there in France, was almost as welcome sight as Richard’s own home. By his hand, she pulled him inside and without a word, began to slowly undress him. With each lace she untied, every clasp she unbuckled, the weight of the world seemed to slip away from Richard. That was what a woman does best, Margery thought to herself. It was not long before Richard’s armor and weaponry lay in a pile along with his shirt and leggings. Margery’s skilled fingers and palms began to caress and knead his weary muscles as he lay on her sheepskins. The lay of his back was very familiar to her. She knew the curves and ridges. She smiled at the memories of past couplings with this man whose chest was as smooth as a newborn but as solid as a hornbeam. Margery began to undress herself and it pleased her to see the effect it always had on Richard. It was not like with Edward, whose hunger was more of that of a hungered wolf, rather it was like that of a graceful dance of swans upon a mill pond, slow and lingering, wanting to savor each moment as it passed. Margery watched his eyes wander over her heavy breasts with their petal pink nipples and travel down the flat of her belly to her lush nest of reddish brown curls. There Richard’s eyes rested as Margery walked over to the man-at-arms and cradled his head to her womb. Richard breathed in the scent of Margery and he began to nuzzle at her soft coney. His lips met with her soft curls and, as Margery parted her slender legs, his nibbling trailed lower, caressing her quim with gentle kisses and licks. Margery felt his warm, rough hands upon her buttocks and soon, Richard’s hands and fingers began kneading her flesh and drawing her nearer to his tongue. Already, she felt his rough licks upon her swollen sex. They were like little, warm licks of flame, igniting the tinder of pleasure in her womb. She was already letting out little moans of pleasure and his tongue delved deeper within her, touching her pearl and send showers of sparks rushing through her. It was all she could do to remain standing; her fingers running through this man’s straw blonde hair. Richard guided her to lie down upon the skins and he now knelt above her, looking into her green eyes. His lips met hers and their tongues danced around each other in a slow dance. His hands now gently brushed over her pale nipples. Each touch was like a flame of bliss. The man’s warm kisses left Margery’s lips and continued as he kissed her cheek and neck and shoulders. Richard’s lips and tongue then caressed Margery’s stiffened nipples, adding fuel to the growing fire within her. Little moans leaked from her lips. Richard’s rough tongue and lips attended themselves to each of Margery’s bosoms, going from to the other and then back. And then Richard stopped. Margery opened her eyes to look into Richard’s. He gave her a slight smile before continuing his downward path of warm kisses over her smooth belly to the soft forest of curls below. Richard could smell her incense, a scent far powerful than any censers. Richard gently lifted her legs over his shoulders and rested them there before holding her hips and lifting them so that her tender folds bloomed before him. His tongue began to trace through Margery’s petals, slowly and firmly. Each lick sent more flames of bliss searing through her soul, engulfing her more and more. She tried to press her hips further to his lips, but his hands remained firm, holding her in place. The redheads’ struggles with her passion hardened Richard’s ardor for this woman. Richard stopped his attentions. “Noooooo,” Margery moaned, “Prithee, do not stop, my lord sergeant.” Richard smiled a bit as he rolled the washerwoman over. Without a word he grasped her wrist gently but firmly and began to wind a leather thong around them, binding them behind her back. For Margery, this was unexpected from Richard, whose company varied little from coupling to coupling. This was more like lord De Valence than it was Richard, yet there was the familiar gentleness as he tied the knots around her wrists and then her crossed ankles. He gently rolled Margery back over. Neither Margery nor Richard said a word as they gazed at each other. Richard then bent down and kissed Margery again, this time, with a bit more heat. His tongue seeking hers out in a slow, passionate dance of Eros. His rough hands found her breasts and began kneading her stiff nipples anew. Her being helpless only threw more wood onto the passionate pyre that was growing within her. Richard’s touches and caresses and nibbles on her skin fanned the flames so. Margery moved more and more beneath him; a storm made flesh. Her wide hips bucked up at him and her kisses were born of hunger. He slipped his legs between hers and knelt above her, her bound legs embracing him; spurring him on with her heels. Richard slid into her. Margery felt him fill her with his swollen member, thrusting into her a feeling of wholeness and bliss that she could not hope to describe. Richard’s thrusts into her were at first slow and deep. She tried to move him to a quicker pace, but he would not go but his own speed. Building in speed slowly. Her pyre of bliss was growing hotter with every push. Her moans were load and wanton and drove Richard to go faster as his own pleasure began to boil in his shaft. Faster and faster, Margery’s pyre began to erupt into pure joy as his hot seed flooded her and filled her. Roar after roar of heated bliss engulfed her until she just collapsed from being crushed under the fiery waves. -o0o- The land was not so unfamiliar. Geoffrey Potterson had foraged around Harfleur during the months of the siege and he had at least a good knowledge of its’ stands of forests and its’ gentle hills. The grasses were now dry and dead as he made his way towards a hut he had remembered earlier, not too far away and within sight of the ruined remains of the town. Geoffrey’s mind was filled with fears as he crept through the pre-dawn fields. How would he get home to his wife and furrowed plot of land he called home? He was not a man of coin and satin. That is why he had come to France and it’s promise of plunder. King Harry’s war would bring more than just a few coin into his pouch. It would bring him a wealth he had never known. Had Geoffrey had smelled the woodsmoke coming from the hut, he may have turned away. However, his nose was a gristly ruin of reddened flesh and dried blood. One of his eyes was swollen shut and he could still taste the blood from several teeth that the sow of a woman had kicked out. Geoffrey never saw the crossbow bolt that pierced his shoulder. All he felt was a searing pain as the force of the bolt spun him around. As Geoffrey looked down at the shaft protruding from his chest, a second pierced his back. “Arrrrrr!,” Geoffry screamed as he dropped down to his knees. “English dog!” a voice spat in French from behind dying man. Geoffry looked around, feebly trying to draw his falchion with is blood-slicked hands. Behind him were four men-at-arms, two of them bringing to bear the crossbows they had just spanned. The others held out their blades. The men carefully approached the whimpering Geoffry. Smiles caressed two of their faces. Geoffry had stopped trying to get at his weapon and fell onto his side. The pain was too much. He could barely breathe and blood gurgled from his breath. “Are you from Harfleur?” one of them asked, his English words thick with French. Geoffry nodded. “Are you English?” the man asked again and again Geoffry nodded. “We will help you if you answer a question or two, English. My surgeon is not but a few paces away and he will attend to your wounds. First, have you seen a beautiful young lady within the Harfleur’s walls. Her eyes and hair are like mine, as dark as a ravens.” Again, Geoffry nodded. “Is she still there?” Geoffry nodded his head. The pain was branding through him and he could barely draw a breath. “Do you know her name? Is it Catherine?” the man asked again. “Yeahhhhhhhh,” Geoffry hissed, blood gasping on his own blood. The man nodded. “Slit his throat,” Bois D’Astier said in French and one of his men stepped over the curled Englishman and with a quick swipe, ended Geoffry’s pain. Since it is usually a long span of time between postings and re-postings of ‘On French Soil’, I am compiling a mailing list so that you can receive chapters as they are produced. If you would like to be on that list, please e-mail me at [email protected] . Or visit my weblog at http://fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ . Any and all comments are welcomed and appreciated. ...

(story continues from On French Soil 10 - “A peaceful and sweet retire”) Chapter 11 - “To Know What Willing Ransom” “She is within those crumbled walls of Harfleur, John,” Bois D’Astier said under his breath as he stood beside his seneschal, looking at the siege-torn town in the distance. A column of dark smoke curled into the lead-colored sky. “I think that you wish it so, my lord,” John replied. “I can feel her there, John. I can feel her breath as if it were my own. And did you not hear what that Englishman said?” “The words of a dying man, saying anything to save his wretched life, my lord,” John shook his graying head, “I think your sword wants a shroud of blood. I urge you, my lord, the English rule these vasty fields in which we creep like wintering mice. We are here by stealth and cunning and we will remain breathing if we continue thusly.” “My Father wants Catherine,” Bois said simply. “Does he want to consign you to a cold marble vault for the sake of a daughter?” “You speak too plainly at times, John.” John looked at his lord with gray eyes as sharp as arrows, “I speak plainly because I need to, my lord.” Bois continued to stare out at the broken walls of Harfleur. In the distance, they looked like gravestones in the mist. A dark column of smoke was testament that not all of Harfleur was English. From what his men could descry from the babble of folks that once inhabited that noble port, two towers had refused to bend to King Henry’s pennant. “Patience, my lord. The English are not leaving this prize and if your fair Catherine is within those walls, she will not be leaving her native soil soon.” In the distance, an English patrol on horseback was riding in their direction. “We must go, my lord.” Bois nodded. But he would return. . .soon. -o0o- Edward looked upon his nude ransom, Catherine D’Astier, with a slow-boiling anger. Her heated words had lit a fire within Edward that he had nearly forgotten about while enjoying the pleasures of her fair gifts. Now, the memory of his dead son swept like a whirlwind through him. . .all the pain and fiery thoughts of revenge. Edward De Valence was not here just to fight for King Henry the V’s just crown of France. He was here to kill Phillip D’Astier and avenge his son’s murder. He needed his ransom, Catherine, to do it. “You are right,” Edward said coldly, “You ARE my ransom. I must remember that. Where is your father so that I might write him to fill my coffers . . or at least a groat or two.” “He is in Paris the last I heard, m’ lord,” Catherine replied. Catherine did not like this sudden coldness from Edward. She did not know what her words did to her captor, but it did not have the effect that Catherine was hoping for. She wanted to be with this Englishman and did not want to be sent back to her life as bait to add to her father’s treasury of power. She would be married off to someone with wealth and station and she would have little to say about it. Her beauty and grace would assure this as well as her father’s full coin box. “. . .but I believe he was headed to Rouen on a matter of some importance” Catherine lied. “Rouen? I will send my demands to Rouen as well as to Paris. It will find his ears soon enough.” Catherine knew this to be true. Her father’s reach was far and such news as her ransom would race to wherever he was. A cold fear started to form in the pit of her stomach. Catherine felt as if she was about to be sentenced to a pyre. “M’lord. . .” Catherine almost whispered. “Yes,” the English knight replied curtly. The silence between them was as cold as a tombstone. Catherine desperately wanted to say how much she cared for Edward but the words were caught in the same chill pit as her fear. She could not say the words. “Yes?” He said again. “Nothing, m’lord Knight. . .” she trailed off. Edward reached down and grabbed at the red garment that Margaret had been working on, a simple gown with knotted sleeves. However, it clinked when he threw it onto the bed. “I can not have a ransom of mine as unclothed as Eve. . .” Catherine lifted the dress. There were chains sewn within and manacles in the sleeves. “Put it on.” Edward said evenly. Catherine lifted the houppelande over her head and tried to struggle to get her arms into the sleeves. After a few moments, it was obvious to Edward he would have to help his young ransom in her raiment. It was difficult, but at last Catherine was wearing clothes for the first time since Edward had rescued her from the fire. A chain encircled her just under her breasts, blending in with the houppelandes' waist. Edward locked it into place with a padlock as well as locking the manacles around her wrists within the sleeves. The manacles had a short chain that lead from them to the chain around her waist, keeping her from reaching out further than a hand spread. It also kept them close together in front of her. Her bindings were all but invisible to anyone she might pass by. “Not quite finished, my prize,” Edward said with a slight, wicked smile. Edward reached under her dress. Catherine felt a piece of soft cloth being pulled up between her legs and threaded through the chain embracing her waist. The English knight tightened the strap until it was tautly wedged between her nether lips, rubbing not too unpleasantly against her pearl. While still under her dress, Edward then shackled her ankles together. Tying the span of loose chain up with the end of the strap. Catherine took several tentative steps. She found if she took too big of steps, the cloth would tighten within her quim. She could see that wearing this could be a torture of a sort that no inquisitor would have thought to include in his arsenal. Edward finished lacing up her dress in back. Catherine always found having a man do this was slightly erotic, having memories of several men doing the same after coupling. It was usually a chore for one of the ladies of the household and men’s fingers were rough and clumsy. . .except for this man. Edward’s fingers seemed adept at the lacings, tightening them firmly as he went, ensuring the gown did not bunch up in the back. “You seem at ease, m’lord, with a lady’s garment,” Catherine said, “It seems you have had practice.” Edward smiled a bit, “I enjoyed dressing my wife in the early morning hours when the world was still ghosts and shadows in gray.” Edward could still picture brushing Eleanor’s long, dark hair aside and seeing the soft curves of his wife’s back revealed in the open lacings of the dress. He would plant tender kisses there as he slowly laced up her gown, causing her to laugh her small, musical giggles. The early, early mornings were their only time alone, when they could drink in each other’s company without the obligations or duties of the castle. They were a man and a woman; husband and wife; a love that came to flower through arrangements of lands and titles. Edward had always counted himself blessed by fortune’s wheel to have had a wife that he cared for and could count upon to give him good counsel Edward lived for those mornings. “She must have been a wonderful lady, m’lord,” Catherine spoke. “Eleanor was,” Edward said softly. Edward picked up a headdress and carefully tucked Catherine’s raven tresses into it. Again, Catherine felt his gentleness while he did this task. Edward had thought he had found another love unexpectedly in his ransom captive. Here was a lady not unlike his Eleanor, dark-haired and with the grace and stature of a hind; and just as wild. And, for just a few hours, Edward thought this daughter of D’Astier felt the same way about him. But her insistent words about being ‘his ransom’ and responsibility clearly showed to Edward that that is the only way she pictured herself with the knight. “What are thinking, m’lord?” Catherine asked. “I wish you were more than ransom,” Edward said and almost immediately regretted it. There was a long, empty silence between to two as Edward finished fitting Catherine’s headdress on. It was Catherine who finally broke the silence. “What do you mean, m’lord?” “You are . . .” Edward tried to search for less direct words, “You are more than a mere ransom to me, Catherine.” Catherine turned around and tried to look into Edward’s downcast, dark hazel eyes. “My English knight, I can be what you want me to be. If I must be a ransom and wear these chains, I would do so as long as I can to be with you for even a few moments more. In my mind, I should hate you; I should tear at your throat with my bare teeth and rip the lifeblood from you; but my heart cannot let me for I care for you, my dear English knight, more than you could possibly know. I feel safe within your arms or ropes, a feeling I would have never pondered m’lord, if you had not taken me so. You have opened my golden-caged life and offered me a glimpse into what love might be.” “You are my ransom,” Edward said, “How could you lay at my side as wife when I need you as ransom?” “Why, m’lord?” Edward paused. “You do not want to know.” The knight could not tell Catherine about his plans to ultimately reap his revenge. He had sown his plan carefully once he had heard that the soil of France would soon be planted with the English banners of war. The murderer of his son would pay and pay and pay again in his own blood. “M’lord, please. . .” “No, Catherine,” he said sternly. Catherine could hear the coldness edging back into his voice. Catherine knew then that it was not mere ransom that her English knight sought. The purpose of her capture ran colder and deeper than just mere coins in a purse. The raven-haired captive recognized that pressing on about that murky purpose would also drive Edward away. “Yes, m’lord,” she acquiesced quietly. “I do not want you to speak of this again, my Catherine,” Edward said. “Yes, m’lord.” “Now, Catherine, I need to see to a few tasks,” Edward said, “You can go about the town if you wish, but I am afraid it is not the town you knew and it is still dangerous. These chains will keep you close by.” “I do not need chains to keep me by your side, m’lord.” Edward saw that look in her dark eyes that he had seen before in his Eleanor’s eyes. It was the look that told him that she would indeed be at his side and that the chains that bound her were not nearly as strong as those forged out of the coals of her love. -o0o- As Richard Corfe unknotted the thong from around Margaret’s wrists and ankles, she sensed he was almost embarrassed about what had just happened. It was not the coupling part of it, she assumed, rather the fact that Richard had tied her up. “What is th’ matter, pray tell, my dear Richard?” “I am indeed sorry, Margery. I did not mean to do. . .” the soldier’s words trailed off. The redhead leaned against Richard, her fingers combing through his hay blonde hair, “Y’ pleasured me wonderfully, my Richard.” “The siege has put lead on my brow, I fear, and has made me do things I do not care to do.” “If’n y’ mean the rope, dear Richard, pay it no mind. It has been done to me before, even by th’ likes of your lord De Valence. . .” “I am not him!” Richard spat. Margery was taken aback, “I know y’ not him. I never said that y’ were, my Richard.” Richard and Margery sat in silence for a bit. The redhead continued to stroke her fingers through Richard’s hair. “She is a sorceress, Margery,” Richard Corfe said quietly, “She is like a vine that enwraps around My Lord De Valence and entraps him in her coils, slowly engulfing him, squeezing his sense out of him.” “She is ‘is ransom,” Margery said, “Her life is’n ‘is hands.” “That woman may be De Valence’s ransom, but I think Edward is her captive.” Another awkward silence fell between the two before Margery spoke, “‘Tis been a long time, dear Richard, since m’lord ‘as had a lady. Since m’Lady Eleanor died, ‘is soul was ripp’d from ‘im. This woman, this ransom of ‘is has given him some of ‘is soul back and ’e wants to keep it. She is good thing for ‘im, dear Richard. For nows, anyway.” “That woman clouds his mind,” Richard said quietly. “Notn’ as much as you think, my dear Richard,” she spoke softly and pulled him toward her, “Now rest.” Richard closed his eyes. -o0o- Catherine felt strange about having clothes on for she had not had any on for several days now, since the English took over Harfleur. She had wanted to die that first night, amongst the burning ruins of her home. However, like waking up into a world filled with elves and nymphs, she was in a different world. Catherine was in a world that she enjoyed very much, enclosed by the four walls of the room she was in. Just thinking about being here and the things that her English knight did to her flooded her insides with a warm, lascivious feeling that Catherine was finding harder and harder to resist. She was still bound, captive now of chains sewn into her dress, but much more free to indulge herself. She lay back down onto the bed that had been her world for what seemed to be a lifetime and began to hike up her dress. With some difficulty, she found the cloth strap that was wedged within the folds of her quim. She grabbed it with both hands and tugged, bringing up her open legs and also rubbing against her pearl, sending a tiny flood of pleasure through her. She thrust her hips, chains jingling and the cloth burrowing into her more, burnishing her bliss more and more. Kicking her legs in the confines of her irons and bucking against the cloth strap, she began to feel a fiery rush of passion burning through her, engulfing her bit by bit as if to swallow her slowly. She found herself whispering Edwards name, herself begging the knight to make her feel the pure bliss he had done so to her before. Her struggles became more frantic as she neared her quest. Her orgasm was so close yet as much as she bucked and squirmed and imagined Edward’s swollen sword thrusting into her, she could not push herself over the chasm. Catherine found herself nearly crying, wanting herself to be pleasured so much. She continued her struggles, weeping and struggling and rubbing herself against the cloth. . .the fiery finger of pleasure slowly licking over her body. . .so wonderful and yet wicked enough not to embrace her fully. Then it came. A fire of pure bliss whirled through her like a storm of flame Catherine writhed and fought against her chains until she was thoroughly as used up as the ashes in a fireplace. She lay there limp, her dark hair a tangle about her and the smell of herself filling the room. There was a warmth in her womb that sated her, like embers of a fire on a cold winter’s night She did not think she would venture out just yet. -o0o- Edward De Valence first felt the sun peeking out from behind its dirty gray mask of clouds and mist like a woman behind a veil. It felt like God had tapped on Edward’s shoulder and given him a small blessing. The English knight stood there for a few moments, staring up at the sun, enjoying its meager warmth touch on his face. The thundering roar of a cannon interrupted his brief revelry. There was still a soldier’s work to be done against the second tower, his destination. To some, sleep had become part of the past. The bellowing of the cannon and the moans of the dying and the curses of the living all made sleeping as far away a dream as their beds at home in England. The taking of Harfleur elevated the men out of their miasma. Supplies were coming in and the sick being taken back to England or billeted under village roofs. The column of blackened smoke looked like the remains of a long dead tree reaching up into the sky. As Edward drew closer, he could inhale the foul-smell of the burning wet hay and oil. There were no arrows coming from the windows of the tower now and the men besieging the tower seemed more at ease knowing that soon this evil work would be done shortly. “Do you think that there is anyone alive inside, My Lord?” Talbot asked as he came up beside Edward, his tired eyes half covered by his wide-brimmed steel helm. Another cannonball shook the ground on which they stood as it cracked against the tower. “How long since the last stirring from inside, Talbot?” “Not since the church bells tolled Vespers yesterday, My Lord,” the man-at-arms replied. Edward nodded. It was time to end this. “Give orders to silence the guns, Talbot, and clear away the burning hay by throwing it into the river. After this is done, we will batter down the door and see if those stubborn souls are still drawing breath.” Talbot nodded. “I also want you to find Corfe and invite him to join us here. His presence is sorely needed.” Again the stout man-at-arms nodded and hurriedly went upon his duties. “Soon,” Edward said to himself while looking up at the scarred stonework of the tower, “So very soon we will be out of this vipers pit and in open country again. I pray to God this is so.” Since it is usually a long span of time between postings and re-postings of ‘On French Soil’, I am compiling a mailing list so that you can receive chapters as they are produced. If you would like to be on that list, please e-mail me at [email protected] . Or visit my weblog at http://fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ . Any and all comments are welcomed and appreciated. ...

(story continues from On French Soil 1 - Unto The Breach) Chapter 2 - ‘With Hard-favor’d Rage’ With the gray of early morning, Sir Edward de Valence awoke, his muscles as stiff as bark. In the half-shadow of the baggage wagon, he could just make out the pale shape of his captive still sleeping curled up in the bindings he had put her in last evening. Her long, black hair obscured her delicate face and gagged mouth. Her breasts were the size of ripe apples, her nipples as dark as dates, her slight waist long, as well as her bound legs. Hidden was her dark nest of curls and quim from which Edward had raped his pleasure. ...

(story continues from On French Soil 2 - With Hard-favor’d Rage) Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depiction’s of rape, bondage and sex, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below. Permission is granted for private use. The author wishes any agencies that wish to publish this work, to please contact him at [email protected]. Any comments are gladly accepted and encouraged. ...

Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. Many historical liberties have been taken in this work and apologies to those who notice them. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about rape and graphic depictions of violence and sex, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below. ...

(story continues from On French Soil 5 - Of The Heat Of The Ginger) Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depictions of sex, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below. ...

(story continues from On French Soil 7 - A Slave No Gentler) Chapter Eight: “Silken Dalliance in the Wardrobe Lies” Catherine D’Astier finally closed her eyes and let her tired and satiated body fall to sleep still captive within Edward’s tight bindings; her wrists cinched behind her back, her ankles bound together and that wicked length of thong that still rubbed between her still swollen petals every time she moved. The last rampage of pleasure that raged through her weakened her enough that sleep was an easy breath away, like a heavy cloud that drifted dark over herself. Catherine’s dreams crept into her mind like a poacher in the forest and were both wanton and frightening. Catherine dreamt she was Edward De Valence’s wife-servant, being there for whatever needs he desired of her. She was not just a mere wife and woman of the household, but a woman who would do anything to please her good man. They were in a castle somewhere in a dreary countryside that she imagined England would be. She watched out of the rippled-glass window as a storm thundered and the rain chattered against the panes. She was naked and bound as she stood in front of the window, her wrists manacled behind her back and her ankles cuffed also. There was cloth ball between her lips so she could not say a word to the English that was her master and lover. The window’s imperfect reflection showed to Catherine her lovely, lithe form. Her skin the color of polished ivory, her hair long and as dark as a raven’s wing; her eyes as soft and dark as a doe’s. Her breasts were not large nor small but befitted her slender form. Catherine was, she knew, a very desirable woman. Catherine saw Edward in her dream, sleeping on their bed, his broad back to her. The sounds of his sleep were familiar and comforting to her and she so longed to feel the warmth of his body next to hers but her chains prevented her from moving into the bed with him. She struggled a bit and felt the same, powerful shudder of pleasure rippling through her as another thunderclap erupted outside. Catherine knew she needed this English knight to ease her lustful thirst and she knew that if she was in bed with him, Edward could perform the blissful magic he was so good at upon her. But the chains held her before the cold window. Catherine looked in vain to try to find where the chains were bolted. They were loose about her slender ankles, their length locking her iron anklets together. She could not see her iron manacles locking her wrists behind her, only the cold feel of their metal, unyielding to her wishes. She felt as if she should be able to take small steps towards Edward’s bed, but it was as if her feet were anchored to the cold, stone floor. Catherine tried to tell Edward of her desire for him, but the gag muffled her words and did not waken her English knight. With every passing moment, her desire for him grew and she could not come to him. Another roll of thunder roared outside, the lightning flashed in the black sky. Catherine desperately searched for what kept her chained here. Her struggles became frantic and she whimpered behind her gag. She could feel the tears running down her cheek. . . “Catherine!” a gruff voice bellowed. The captive woman looked up and saw the sturdy form of her father, Phillip D’Astier, a sneer scarring his grey bearded face. In her father’s gauntleted hand, the end of her chain. In his other hand, an unsheathed sword still dripping with gore. “Come here!” he growled and yanked on her chain. A lightning flash distorted his raged face, twisting it into a gargoyle’s foul visage. Catherine shook her head and yelled “No” into her gag but nothing came out. Her terror was a better than any gag of cloth. She could feel him yanking on her chains, pulling her toward him, the metal of her cuffs growing hot and painful as she tried to get away. . . “You WILL come here, Catherine!” Phillip spat. Red ichor continued to flow from the sword, pooling on the floor like the blood of a beheaded man. Catherine tried to scream to Edward but he continued to sleep, unaware of her father and his evil intent. She thrashed and kicked and threw her head and cried great sobs as her father yanked one last time and she fell against him. His armored hands grabbing her arms violently. . . “Catherine!” he yelled. “No, no, please no father!” Catherine cried uselessly into her gag. “Catherine wake up,” a more tender voice came from above her. Catherine awoke to find she was looking into the most wonderful dark hazel eyes she had ever known, the eyes of her English knight, Edward de Valence. “You are having a dream, dear Catherine,” Edward said in Catherine’s native French tongue, “You have nothing to fear while I am here.” Edward’s large arms embraced Catherine to him and he slowly rocked his captive. Catherine wept with both pain and joy, remembering vividly her dream and now the comfort of Edward’s arms. She wanted to tell this English so much, to declare her love for him but the gag he had tied between her lips muffled and mutated her sobbing words. All she could do is cry gently into Edward’s chest. Edward held his captive; his Catherine until her tears stopped and she was limp and asleep in his arms. He could feel every breath of hers; every little movement against him. Her skin was warm and smooth to his touch as he gently ran his fingers over her hip and down her side. Edward could feel himself stirring again at the sight of this woman so much like his departed Eleanor, yet there was differences too that made this woman bound before him as heady as unwatered wine. Eleanor never was this passionate towards Edward. She cared for him and was a dutiful noblewoman but Edward knew deep inside that she did not love him. She was very beautiful and gifted woman and he was glad that he was not there when the plague took her life. He had seen too many bodies marred by the bulbous purple sores to want to imagine what Eleanor might have looked like in death. He wanted her pristine in his mind. Catherine stirred against him, turning onto her side and settling her firm buttocks against Edward’s now hardened self. There was still the smell of her passion on her and her fingers twitched a bit, tickling Edward. Margaret had left, leaving the dress she had modified for Edward. He would dress Catherine in it before he left her. It was a deep red with long sleeves that would be knotted fashionably. She had sewn the arms against the bodice and a pair of manacles in the sleeves. It would allow Edward to take her in public yet make sure she did not leave his side. She would still be a captive yet not appear to be. The only problem Edward could see was silencing her for she did have a wicked tongue at times. Edward glanced out the window. The sky was a darker shade of grey. Night would come all too soon and Edward needed to leave. The English knight was about to wake his ransom up when he had second thoughts. He wanted her to be this way when he came back in the early morning darkness. He would wake her then and enjoy her company again before dressing her. Quietly he slipped out from beside her and eased out of bed, leaving her bound and sleeping soundly. -oOo- The canon belched forth another fiery spew with loud report, bathing it’s gunners in it’s unholy light briefly before the cold darkness enshrouded them again. Richard Corfe saw his commander, Edward de Valence striding over towards him, dressed in his coat of plates and visorless sallet. “‘Tis cold as a Marches’ winter, m’lord de Valence,” Corfe said as he met Edward. “Indeed, my dear Richard,” Edward looked into the pale blue eyes of his sergeant and saw the fatigue there. He needed this man too much to kill him with the burden of these two towers, “Go rest your bones with a wench or two. You know where we are lodged at.” “Yes, m’lord,” he said tiredly. Richard knew better than to argue with Edward, “However you must know that the Earl of Dorset is amongst our works, m’lord.” “Thank you, dear Richard, now go and relieve your men also. The gunner’s that rested during daylight will take over.” Sir Thomas Beaufort, the Earl of Dorset, Edward thought to himself, a good man with a solid skill at war but the youngest son of John of Gaunt was always a cursed paycock. The Earl of Dorset was much more at home in the stone halls of the court where his armor always gleamed. Being in the field did little to his dampen his fiery temper; it only tended to fuel it. A brave man to the point of foolishness. Edward eyed to two towers whose round walls were now pitted and cracked but still held their occupants in safety. No one ventured within bow range of the towers and so far only three men had been wounded by arrows spit from them. “Pray now, de Valence, how do you plan to take these two shrews?” a stiff voice said from behind him. Edward turned around and saw Sir Thomas Beaufort standing behind him, in full plate armor polished and his colors brightly shown. “My Lord Dorset,” Edward bowed. “Those twin ladies will be hard to break,” Sir Thomas said, “I am glad you are the one that will divest those French of these towers. It will take time to repair, I fear.” “Indeed, my Lord Dorset.” “So, how now, de Valence, pray tell me how it is you will take these twin towers?” “I will first take the one on the right, My Lord. I have enough reeds and hay from the roofs of destroyed houses and from their fields that I will be able to pile it around both and set fire to it. The wet hay will burn smoky and I hope to drive the defenders out of their warren. I will continue to fire upon the one on the right, my Lord, but only those cannon I know whose aim is true. Rafts full of the tinder will drift up from behind and array the faggots and straw around the tower while the cannon keep the occupants’ eyes.” “What of the other tower?” asked Sir Beaufort. “I will silence my cannon against it and let those French within think the attack is upon them. They are weary and spirit heavy, I should think, my Lord, and the need to keep constant watch upon their tower will drain them even more. They cannot see what we do to her sister tower, my Lord.” Lord Dorset nodded, his keen eyes taking in the scene before him and imagining the results of de Valences fine work. “Continue, de Valence. The plan is sound,” he said, “use as many men as you need. I need you to break these bitches for His Majesty. He cannot plan ahead unless we know Harfleur is firmly in our grasp.” “The towers will fall, my Lord Dorset. You can tell good King Henry that he will have these towers in two days time.” “I will,” said Sir Thomas as he turned and walked away from Edward. The work had already begun on Edward’s plan of attack. Several small boats and rafts had been filled with straw an awaited Edward’s command. Soon the guns upon the left tower would be silent while the one’s on the right would continue their assault with less powder to make sure none of the men laying the hay would be killed by their own guns. The night was clear and cold, the rain having left everyone damp and of ill mood. Edward’s breath looked like a wraith in the night air. He nodded his head to his sergeant in charge of the hay and then to his man in charge of the cannon on the left. Nor more would they belch their destruction at that tower tonight. Every roar was now against the right-hand tower. A rock shot shattered against the stonework with a loud snap, like a dry bone being cracked in half. There was little for the English knight to do but watch his plan unfold. He trusted his sergeants with doing their assigned tasks and though he watched over them, he did not hover over them like a raven upon a kill. Edward drew his cloak about himself. The knight was already missing his captive Catherine. Maybe he should not have left her bound as he had, he thought to himself. She was indeed frightened by her visions and he would not be there to calm her if she had them again. He recalled how he had found her, bound and raped by three base men as a fire was beginning to sweep through the house. Catherine had wanted to die there. If Edward had not come seeking her, she would have had her wish. Edward had not really thought about that night. It seemed a lifetime away even though it had been only a day or two. He had seen other woman do similar things, sacrificing themselves to the army’s invading. Perhaps their tears had driven them mad. Edward had suddenly got tired of war. When Eleanor died, everything changed for him. He volunteered for every campaign. Life on the Scottish border helped him deal with her death with every sword thrust and spear lunge. His manor house was as feared as any and he made sure he would have his revenge upon anyone violating his stock and his wards. He inspired the men around him and they would die with him anywhere and it was these men that Edward brought with him here to France. . . The burden seemed to overwhelm him now as he stood, cloaked and alone in the cold night. The faggots and straw around the base of the tower was being piled hurriedly and soon Edward would have to give the sign to silence the guns briefly so they could finish their work. Spare nothing, he had said, pile all the straw you can and it was being heaped high. It was time. He raised is arm and dropped it. The guns fired their last shot and were silent. Hopefully, for the first few moments, the French within will think that the guns a reloading but soon the silence will let them know something was amiss. It was but a few heartbeats before the French arrows began trying to spit Edward’s men at the base of the tower. A man screamed as an arrow pierced his back and he collapsed on his bundle of straw. Another fell like a rag, limp into a pile. But the work continued. The ring around the tower grew. It was enough. Edward raised and lowered his arm twice to signal the throwing of the oil pots upon the straw. Tens of small pots arced toward the hay as the last of Edward’s men ran to their rafts or back to the guns. The pots looked like so many falling stars. Some dashed themselves against the tower in an eruption of oil and sulfur and tar. Others crack uselessly on the ground before the hay. But a few landed in the hay and spilled their fiery burden, starting the smoky pyre. The smoke began to embrace the tower in its curling, wispy fingers. Edward could picture what was happening within. The smoke would start to seep into the rooms in a slight haze that would slowly build. The guards would start to cough and gasp in the smokes stranglehold. They would seek the comfort of the open arrow loops only to find the night obscured by the foul fog of the pyre. Men would collapse, gagging like trout upon the shore. Some would die as others would feel their way down the stairs to the door to fight or surrender. This is what would happen. More hay was piled up into the fire. Edward waited, his cloak about him, thinking of his captive. -oOo- Catherine’s dream were now filled with lustful images of her coupling with her English knight as he bound her to his bed and she made no attempt to escape his ropes. She could feel his hands upon her, his touch more rough than before, roaming her body like hungry piglets upon their mother’s teats. Edward’s hands pulled at her bound ankles, loosening them in fervor. . . then the one’s around her knees. She rolled onto her back and willing parted her legs for Englishman. The knight in her dreams then pulled roughly at the thong that parted her passion slick lips. She gasped in pain as he yanked at them. . . Then Catherine awoke. A gnarled, foul-smelling man was bent over her quim, yanking at the thong and uttering curses under his breath. He was naked and troll-like and Catherine screamed into her gag. The man looked up and gave Catherine a toothy grin of yellowed teeth and said something in his guttural English tongue that Catherine did not understand. The thong’s knot parted. . . The man’s hands forced upon Catherine’s thighs, his dirty nails digging into her flesh. Again, Catherine screamed uselessly into her gag. The captive stared in horror at the man’s dwarfish cock. It was as thick and knobby as a toadstool as he grunted before Catherine’s quim. She struggled and kicked at the man. It was all he could do to hold her down. She freed her one leg. Catherine kicked the troll’s cock with all her might, smashing it. The man roared in pain and grasped his injured member, his bloodshot eyes clouded in pain and rage. . . Catherine’s heel smashed into the villains’ nose with a wet crack, causing blood to gush from it. She did not stop, kicking at the man’s face and belly again and again until he slipped off the edge of the bed. Catherine struggled to seat herself and peer over the side of her bed. The man was laying in a pile, his face a bloody ruin. She prayed that Edward would return before this man awoke. *********************End Chapter Eight******************* Additional chapters will be added as time permits. Any comments, ideas, and feelings, would be most appreciated. Please e-mail me at FESSELN1.aol.com ...

(story continues from On French Soil 6 - Perfection Of A Good And Particular Mistress) Chapter Seven: “A Slave No Gentler” Sir Edward de Valence leaned over Catherine and began to unbind her ankles from the foot of the bed. Her slim legs were weak from the passionate eruptions from not a few moments ago. There was a tenderness in his touch and Catherine could see a gentleness in his hazel eyes as well. Her ankles did not keep unfettered long, however, for he tied them together again at her ankles. ...

(story continues from On French Soil 7 - A Slave No Gentler) Chapter 9 “Unto the weary and all-watched night” Cowering like a trapped fawn, Catherine D’Astier lay huddled and frozen with horror. Her slender wrists were still tied tightly behind her back and the cloth gag was still firmly between her lips, despite her weakened efforts to wrench free of their grasp. The fight in her had ebbed away. Helpless, she wormed her way to the back of the bed; away from the low, gasping breaths she could hear coming from the floor. Every time the wretched man coughed, she winced, fearing that he would awaken and the nightmare would never end. Catherine prayed for it to end. The Church had always been important to her father and thus, to everyone in her family. It was not faith, however, that brought Phillip D’Astier into the sparrow-quiet chambers of Notre Dame. It was the power that lay behind the incense and the albs and the carved saints upon the walls. It was that power that Phillip patiently cultivated to bloom and the reason he placed his youngest son Simon into the clergy. This is The Church that Catherine knew and it’s God could be bought with silver; a hollow faith. But now she prayed the prayers bred of faith and tears and fear. Catherine chanted the Latin words in her mind over and over again, a ward against the evil that lay beside the bed, a demon in the shape of a brutish man-at-arms. A groan came up from the floor like a chill wraith and Catherine’s beseeching stopped. She whimpered from behind her gag and closed her eyes, hoping that this too was a dream like before. However, from her self-imposed darkness, Catherine could hear every breath the man took. She could hear every creak of the floor and rustle of straw. Every cough. The young French captive knew, deep within her, that her demon was getting up. She willed her eyes open. The man’s hand, gnarled and covered in his own blood, clawed at the edge of the bed. Slowly, as if Hades slowed the passage of time itself, the man rose. In the bloody ruins of the man’s face, she could see the hatred branded into the man’s dark, bloodshot eyes. His grin, teeth bloodied and broken from her kicks to his face, looked as viscous as any madden hound. Blood continued to trickle down from his crushed nose. “Sow,” he spat. The man knew he would have her and then he would kill her. His lord’s prize would be a corpse and a corpse was hard to ransom. It served Lord de Valence right for bringing him to this forsaken land of France while his wife was heavy with child. The Welsh borders were harsh; even cruel. He needed to be there, beside his wife’s bedside, instead of being in France. DeValence’s ransom had the fight drained from her and now she cowered on the bed. Her ivory skin now flushed red with her exertions. Her long hair, the color of raven’s wings, hung in a fray over her face and around her head. He could barely discern Catherine’s dark eyes peering frightened from behind those tresses. He could see why his lord kept her for his own. And soon, the ruffian thought, he would taste the same fruits of his lord’s. “No” Catherine cried through her gag as the man grabbed one of the ropes that had tied her legs together and began to wrap it around her slender ankle. She tried to kick him, but now he was far too wary of her attempts at hurting him and he grabbed the other ankle with little problem. Catherine thrashed and cried and twisted in her bindings like a fish caught in a net. First one ankle was tied to a bedpost, than her other was similarly bound, spreading her open for this English troll. But still she weakly struggled. “There’n, wench! Let’n me sees you fight me now,” the rapist said. “Ugggggghhhhhh!” Catherine screamed through her gag as the man picked up his dagger from his pile of clothes and grinned. “I’s will put’n this in you, wench, after I’n done wit you,” he smiled as he positioned himself between her legs, “You’n will not forget’n this weapon, will’n you!” The foul man began caressing her soft, black nest with the tip of the dagger; poking her here and there and laughing when Catherine winced. She had stopped struggling and dulled by fear she just lay there and watched as the dagger probed lower to her most sensitive parts. The cool tip of steel that touched her puffed lips felt like a viper’s fang. The man then set the dagger down and hovered over her, pushing his gnarled cock into her quim. With one hard thrust, he was in Catherine and started forcing himself in and out of her faster and faster. All Catherine could do is close her eyes and whimper at his demonic assault. His member tore at her, the pain it caused not nearly as much as in her imagination; chaffing her still sensitive lips. The man’s sour breath engulfing her as he rammed into her as deeply as he could. Then he stopped. “One more thrust, Geoffry, and this blade will swyve through your arse.” Catherine saw past her grunting tormentor a tall, rain-soaked blonde knight with narrowed blue eyes, sword drawn and pointed between the ruffian’s warty cheeks. “This is Lord de Valence’s ransom and you are violating his will,” Richard Corfe continued to speak, his voice talon sharp. “I’n was just havin’ . . .” Geoffry started to explain, easing himself out of Catherine. “Shut up!” The knight spat, “Is this how you repay our lord’s generosity!” “I’n. . .” “Get your arse out!” Richard spat, withdrawing his sword a bit. Geoffry slowly eased himself off of the bed, palming his dagger and keeping it out of sight of the knight. He was heedful of the tip of the broadsword pointed at him and, more importantly, the man wielding the weapon. Corfe was a fair man but he was not a man to cross for he could be as ruthless as Lord de Valence. Corfe was also very much battle-hardened; the death’s of many a man were light upon Corfe’s soul. Another would not bother Corfe at all. “I’n a going, Master Corfe,” Geoffry said, grabbing his leggings, shoes and leather jerkin from the floor. “If I see you here again, Geoffry, I will make sure that your last dance is with a noose around your neck. That I can promise.” “If’n. . .” “Go!” Robert spat. Geoffry, with clothes in hand, disappeared out the door. Richard stepped over and closed the door before coming over to Catherine and sitting upon the bed beside her head. “Are you hurt, my lady?” Richard spoke softly in Catherine’s native tongue, combing his fingers through her long, dark hair. All Catherine could do is weep and bury her head the wet sleeve of Richard’s tunic. Gently, she felt her gag being untied and removed from between her lips. It was a relief to her, having the cloth not tugging at the corners of her mouth. “There, my lady ransom, I should say that this is much better,” Richard said in a voice as soft as lamb’s wool. The bound girl nodded her head but did not reply. “You are safe now, dear lady ransom. Edward shall return at first light. His task this foul night is the devil’s own work and he will be weary and in need of your magic. Sleep now. . .” He continued to comb his fingers through her hair. Richard’s touch was gentle and calming. Soon Catherine began to sleep again and Richard heard her whispers as her head lay upon his lap. -o0o- Outside, in the cold of the pre-dawn night, Edward waited and watched wrapped in his cloak as the last of the defenders of the first tower coughed and staggered out, the look of defeat deeply etched on their blackened faces. Arrows still were spat from the second tower, but they were few and Edward knew that the French in that tower were running short of them. It would only be a matter of a day or two before they too would be brought out by either smoke or starvation. The defenders defiance would wane like the moon. Edward’s King Henry the V would have his precious port of Harfleur to winter in before his chevauchee the next spring. There would also be a French army to oppose His Majesty. However, Edward knew the French court was nearly in civil war and it would divide such an army. By Spring, Henry’s army would be large and rested and ready to bury it’s teeth into the flesh of the French which still refused recognize King Henry’s right to the throne. The smoke and the cold mist shrouded the skeleton ruins of buildings as Edward slowly made his way home. Few soldiers walked the streets, mostly one’s like himself who were making their way back to their billets to rest their chilled bones. Out of the corner of his eye, the knight saw a naked soldier, clothes clutched to himself, scurry down the street and swallowed in the dark gray. Edward smiled, thinking that the man was probably cast out of a woman’s arms by not enough coin or by a jealous husband. There was no guard posted at Edward’s building. No need. The walls were now guarded by the men of good King Harry’s army. Inside, fires burned low, a warm and welcome light. Many of his men lay on the floor huddled under their blankets and cloaks, the noises of their sleep a cacophony of snores and grumbles and mutterings. Edward eased himself up the stairs into the living quarters, past more of his men, and to his private chamber. Richard Corfe looked up as Edward swung open the door. “My lord,” he said in a harsh whisper. “How now, dear Corfe,” Edward asked, his anger at the intrusion into his chambers starting to boil. “Your ransom is safe and asleep, my lord. . .” Indeed, Catherine lay, still bound, curled up and asleep in the bed beside Corfe, lost in a deep sleep. Her captive wrists were still tethered behind her back but her ankle and crupper bindings were gone. Even her gag was gone from between her lips. “. . .There was an intruder,” Corfe went on to say. “Intruder?” Edward asked, the anger making his words clipped and gravely. “Yes, my lord.” “Who?” “One of the men. . .Geoffry Potterson . . .a man of little value. He was want to have his way with your ransom, lord deValence.” A silence hung between the two men as they looked into each others eyes. Edward saw no lies in his friend’s face. Richard was not one to tell untruths. He was as true as a sword and just as unyielding. “What of this Geoffry?” Edward asked, the anger still locked behind his frown. “I banished him from the camp, my lord. He will not see it fit to return here, my lord, or he will know what it is like to be spitted by my father’s steel.” Edward nodded. It was far from what he would have liked to have done to that foul cur, but, as always, Richard was thinking of all of Edward’s command. Tempers were already ragged from the months of siege and mud and death. It would not do to have Richard killing one of his own here. Such things rotted away loyalty. Richard got up from the bed slowly, as not to disturb the sleeping Catherine, “I shall leave you to your peace, my lord.” Edward nodded. It was not until Richard reached the door that Edward spoke up. “Wait.” “Yes, my Lord?” “You have done me a grand service, Richard. One that will be hard to repay. . .” “I do my duty, my lord, nothing less,” Richard replied. “no, no. . .listen to me, Richard,” de Valence continued, “I want to give to you some thing I now hold very dear. I do not do so lightly, my friend. What I am about to give you is my most valuable treasure.” The blond Corfe just stood, cloaked in a silence. Edward then bent down and kissed Catherine on the cheek. “Awaken,” Edward whispered in French. Slowly, Catherine awoke. A smile crossed her lips and her ebon eyes as she looked up into Edwards’ rugged face. She struggled to nestle closer to her English captor, wanting to feel his body next to hers; the warmth of his touch. Her wrists were still bound behind her back, but her freed legs enwrapped themselves around Edward’s as he sat beside her. Catherine felt her knights’ fingertips gently brushing over the curves of her cheek, as soft as a swans’ caress. “How are you, my Catherine?” he asked, still using her native French tongue. Catherine hugged herself closer to Edward. Her words were slow in coming, as if saying anything would make this dream swirl away into another abyss. “So much the better now that you are beside me, English, “she replied. Catherine’s voice was so much more musical now. It lacked the wicked barbs that had stung his ears earlier. It was a voice as soft and as inviting as a coney’s pelt. “I have heard, my captive ransom, that something wicked almost befell you.” Catherine turned her head away and barely whispered, “yes, m’lord.” ...

The drive through the late October countryside was singularly dreary. The rain had started as Olivia left her London motel room and it seemed to thicken the further she drove into the rural fields of the south. She had her maps and the excellent sense of direction a former military career had given her, but the numerous narrow lanes and unmarked roads gave even a seasoned map-reader like her seem navigationally challenged. Just when she was about to give up, the road took a turn and there it was. It was just like Olivia had pictured it. The Lion’s Mouth sat like an old, squat codger awaiting another hand of poker. The old carriage inn was straight out of a Dickens novel, with its thick thatched roof and yellowed stucco sides and mullioned windows set deep within its timber-trussed walls. The old oaks and hornbeams that embraced the inn had already shed their leafs, their black skeletal limbs clutching at the drizzly late afternoon sky. It was just what she had fantasized and feared about as she stared at it through her windshield wipers. Olivia had first heard mention of The Lion’s Mouth completely by accident while doing some research. It took time to puzzle the pieces together from the faint references whispered in web logs and chat rooms, but finally she tracked down a few women that had actually experienced the ethereal occurrences within the inn and was convinced of their authenticity. Olivia wanted to become a member of that very exclusive club. She glanced up into the rearview mirror to take stock of herself. At 34, she was still a very attractive person, with long dark hair and hazel brown eyes that seemed invite everyone to get to know her better. Olivia’s morning jogs kept her fit and her sport bras seemed to keep her ample breasts from a sagging fate. Over all, she knew she could still attract a man’s attention and a woman’s jealousy and that was fine with her. A clap of thunder startled Olivia and she steeled herself to get out of the rental car and out into the cold rain. It was a short dash from the parking lot to the front door of the inn and the brunette felt absolutely sodden as she opened the ancient oak door and stepped inside. The pub portion of the Lion’s Mouth was filled with smoke and hushed laughter. A few of the patrons turned to look at her out of curiosity, but no stares accusing her of any carnal or perverse thoughts; No one looking through her, telling her ‘I know why you are here, lass.’ The man pulling the pints behind the bar was not how Olivia pictured the innkeeper to be. Tall, well-built with a shock of blonde hair, he couldn’t be more than a few years older than she. His blue eyes were absolutely full of schoolboy charm as they locked onto hers when she stepped up to the bar. “You must be Miss Howard,” the innkeeper smiled. “Does my American show through that much?” Olivia quipped. “Not at all, my dear. Who else could you be on a rainy day like today? Actually, you are our last guest to make an appearance this evening and since I know the rest of these sots, I concluded in Sherlockian fashion that you must be our much anticipated Olivia Howard.” Olivia smiled, “How astute of you, detective ah . . .” “John Stevenson,” the innkeeper sat the glass he was filling down and proffered his hand, “proprietor of this august establishment. You can set your bag down there in the corner and as soon as I get these pints properly served, I will show you to your resting place for this evening.” The brunette settled onto a barstool and took time to look around a bit Olivia was a people watcher, enjoying making up stories about strangers she saw on her lunch breaks and shopping trips. The patronage of The Lion’s Mouth tonight was a delightful smorgasbord for her imagination. There were several older men hunched over their half-filled glasses joking in loud guffaws and hissing snickers.One of them, a tall gaunt looking man will a full gray beard and eyes to match, kept glancing over at her and mentally peeking under her dress. There was a younger couple, resplendent in leathers and piercings, having a heated discussion about local current affairs. A tall and not unattractive blonde sat alone, sipping on a glass of wine and watching the rain paint impressions on the window. Altogether too many good stories to knit Olivia didn’t know where to start. “Ready, Miss Howard?” John asked, scooping up her bag. “Please,” she said, following the innkeeper up a narrow flight of stairs to an equally narrow hallway. “The Lion’s Mouth isn’t like your Mariotts or Hiltons, so you are going to have to share a washroom with your fellow guests. The one for the fairer sex is to the left here. Good news, there is not very many guests to compete with tonight, so there should be plenty of hot water for a shower.” The hallway took a right into one of the wings of the old inn. She imagined that below would have been the stables. The wood floors in the hall were worn to polish and creaked with every step as if in protest to yet another foot stepping on them. “Here you are, Miss Howard, the room you requested,” John opened the door and handed the key to Olivia, “Are you sure you want this room? As I have said, we have plenty of others that are just as comfortable.” “Yes,” Olivia said, feeling herself almost blush, “this will do.” “I assume you have heard about the room’s reputation then?” “Yes, I have,” Olivia smiled a slight smile, “That is why I am here. I am investigating whether your ghost is for real or just another way of getting a few more pounds out of your guests.” “Miss Howard,” John said sternly, “First, I charge the same for all the rooms here at The Lion’s Mouth. Secondly, I wanted to make sure for your welfare. There has been some incidents and I didn’t want to see any harm come to you. But I see you are well armed with a healthy dose of skepticism, so I bid you good night and pray that you have a good nights rest.” With that, John placed her bag on the bed and brusquely left her in the room by herself. The room was small and cozy, just what she had expected from a centuries old inn. The bed was an old Victorian brass bed with a feather down comforter neatly tucked in. A vintage oak wardrobe and chest of drawers filled in what little space there was left in the room. The only other piece of furniture was a small rocking chair with a wool blanket folded over the back. Two standing lamps filled the room with a warm, yellow light. Olivia felt bad about lying to John about the reason she was here. Oh, she knew about the history of this room. She knew about the past innkeeper’s fair daughter and the would-be gentleman rapist that met his demise on the end of a soldiers bayonet. The man, a squire and a rogue by the name of Bartholomew Swyver, enjoyed robbing coaches of their wealth and maidens of their maidenhood. According to the tale, he spied the innkeeper’s daughter one night while taking in a mug of ale and he knew he had to have her beauty as well as all her charms. He crept through the window of what was then the inn’s private chambers and stripped the blonde daughter and bound her to the bed. He was about to consummate the coupling when a soldier of King Georges Army crashed through the door and thrust a bayonet through Bartholomew’s back. Thus a ghost was born. As the tale went, the ghost of the rogue still thirsts for his bound victim. That is why Olivia was really here, to see if the ghost could slack his thirst upon her as well. Olivia had been into bondage for quite sometime now, but unfortunately, none of her partners would bind her and more than one or two of them ended the relationship within a few days of finding out about her desires. So she dated and had encounters with the local BDSM club, but nothing really satisfied her. The fantasy of rape was an overwhelming urge for her and The Lion’s Mouth seemed to be the cure for that particular itch. The woman was too excited to be hungry, though her last meal was some greasy fish and chips off of the expressway at around one. Her whole being seemed to be infused with a kind of erotic electricity as she locked the door and opened her bag to get ready for bed. She selected a heavily boned green and black satin corset and a pair of black hose to go along with it. There would be no panties tonight, just a slight strip of soft fur crowning her mons. She undressed slowly and seductively, as if performing for some invisible audience, carefully folding her dress and undergarments onto the chair. Olivia slowly rolled one of the black stocking up her leg, taking care not to snag it. Then she repeated the performance on her other leg. The corset was next; it’s black lacings a bit difficult as she slowly tightened the garment until it hugged her as tightly as a demon lover. Lingerie always made a woman more sexy and desirable and with the way this corset graced her frame, it should give a rise out of any dead, she thought to herself. There were few things she needed to do save to douse the light and crawl under the covers. Outside here window, the rainy continued it’s spattering against the mullioned window along with the scratching of several branches. Only the flashes lightning lit the room as she lay watching the gloom. Olivia knew that sleep would be near impossible. Her whole being seemed focused on her sex; it filled with a warm itch that she found nearly impossible to resist. She opened her legs let her finger slide into herself. Slowly, she began to stroke herself, tickling at her clit and sinking her finger deeper within. Her mind wandered into thoughts of ropes and gags and a firm pair of hands holding her and forcing her into doing things even a slut would blush at. Bolts of pleasure began to shoot through her as she began to massage herself more briskly. The electricity that had been filling her this trip was roiling through her like a molten lightning storm. Now that she was here, in this room, all of her pent up lusts exploded through her soul as wave after wave of pure static bliss stormed through her. Olivia did not know when she fell asleep. The exhaustion of the plane flight and the drive must have caught up to her a while after her orgasm. However, in the dark of room, she was wide-awake. She knew she wasn’t alone. Sitting up in her bed, she searched the room. The shadows failed to reveal anything. The storm had passed and now only the soft moaning of the wind and the rustle of the branches filled the silence. Twice she was tempted to turn on her bedside lamp, but sitting there she was afraid to move. Olivia wished now that she had worn something a little less revealing as she pulled the covers around her. The minutes passed very slowly as she watched and listened. The stillness of the shadows was her only companion. But Olivia knew she was being watched by some unknown pair of eyes. It was awhile before she decided it was her overworked imagination and curled back up to go to sleep. The attack was brutal and swift. A leather sack was forced over her head and just as quickly her wrists were pulled together and bound over her head. The brunette was just about to scream when a rope forced part of the sack between her teeth, effectively gagging her. Still, Olivia was not entirely helpless, and she still tried to scream as she tried to kick at her attacker. She thrashed in her bonds but her feet connected with nothing. Suddenly, she felt her left ankle being pulled to the corner of the bed. Again she kicked, finding only thin air as it was tied off. Something grabbed her right ankle and yanked it to the opposite corner. Now she was indeed helpless as she fought her bindings. The power of his touch as he crouched over her was both terrifying and erotic. The ghosts hands firmly massaged her breasts, kneading her nipples to stiffness underneath her corset as he straddled her. Slowly his hands felt down her sides and over her bare hips, lifting them up. She could feel the stiff heat of his cock against her womb. She could feel the ghosts need to take her. A desire began to fill Olivia like no other. ...

“Are you going to have the TV ready before the game, Mike?” Dawn asked as she set a bowl of chips and salsa on the coffee table. Mike was making the final ‘adjustments’ to their wide screen TV. Since they had bought it two month’s ago, Mike and Dawn’s home was now the favorite gathering spot for the guys to watch the game. Dawn didn’t mind it except it was starting to slip into their ‘playtime’ together. Dawn had discussed it with him the night before and he agreed to do something about it. ...

Part 1 The warm California wind caressed through Stephanie’s long blonde hair as she drove home. The radio was cranked to ZZ Top’s “Gimme all your lovin’” and all her cares were left in her empty school locker for the summer. This year she would be on her way to college and freedom. Not that Steph didn’t like her mother and new stepfather and her step brother Jeff. They were cool as far as family went. She just craved a little more space to call her own. . .an apartment or dorm so she wouldn’t have to sneak boys home. That is all she really wanted, a little more privacy. Home wasn’t too far away and Steph was reluctant to put an end to her revelries of school being out for the summer, but she needed to get home and get ready for the party tonight. She eased the Dodge Neon into the driveway and switched off the ignition. ...

(story continues from The Summer Project 9)_ Part 10 It was a struggle just to stand after the stranger had untied Stephanie’s armbinder from the strap holding her ankles together. The blonde felt as limp as an old rag doll, her strength zapped by the two orgasm she had just had in the past hour. She wobbled and swayed as she stood, feeling the leather straps being buckled again around her knees and thighs. Jeff’s stepsister made a most beautiful slave, even more so in the afterglow of her last cum. A long tangle of blonde hair spilled down over her blindfolded eyes and her ring-gagged mouth seemed to quiver in an erotic kiss. The white of her leather collar and armbinder seemed to gleam against her tanned skin. Her pale nipples were still stiff from pleasure. If there were one thing that did not fit the perfect picture, it would be the fact that she was not a true blonde. The soft curls of her nest were a light brown in color. However, that could be rectified. Steph felt her captor clip on the leather lead and give it a gentle tug. She hopped in that direction, concentrating on the task at hand rather than the two vibrators still buzzing away within her. “Did you enjoy that, slave?” the metallically twisted voice of her stepbrother asked. Stephanie flushed red with embarrassment as she nodded yes. It just murdered her to admit that the pleasures she had just had were the most intense of her young life. Everything she had been told said that rape was a horrible, painful thing that tore at one’s soul. However, Steph enjoyed what had just happened and that thought raced through her mind like a blender. Jeff continued to pull on her leash, moving slowly to the stairs. He noticed a pile of envelopes below the mail slot and made a mental note to look through them in the morning and pay any bills. His parents had left him with several signed checks to do this with as well as several thousand dollars to put into his checking for emergencies. However, he had more important things to look after. At the foot of the stairs, Jeff stopped and threw his blonde captive over his shoulder. Stephanie squealed in surprise and struggled a bit. “Stop squirming, slave, or I will drop you.” Stephanie stopped struggling. It was more to try to get comfortable than it was to escape knowing the later was impossible. His shoulder seemed to cut into her stomach as he climbed the stairs and Steph worried that he might loose his footing and they would both come crashing down the stairs. However, that did not happen and at the top of the flight, he swung her off his shoulder and helped her balance herself again in her restraints. Without a word, Jeff led his captive down the hallway to his parent’s bedroom, pausing to enjoy the way his stepsister looked. Her large, pale-nippled breasts jiggled with every little hop she took. He could feel himself harden again looking at her blindfolded form, but reminded himself that he had plenty of time to enjoy her. There were other things to take care of. Tugging on her leash, Jeff guided her into the bathroom and eased her onto the toilet. Stephanie felt the straps around her ankles and legs being undone. Apparently, it was another bathroom break. It was easier for her to go this second time and the stranger was just as careful cleaning her up with a warm washcloth. “You need to shower, slave,” the intruder said in his electronically distorted voice, “And I have to change your bindings.” The captive blonde listened, nodding slightly. “If you try to escape, slave, I will kill you quickly but I will also slowly torture your brother to death. Do you understand, slave?” Stephanie nodded. “As long as you please me, slave, everything will be okay. No permanent harm will come to you or him. Understand, slave?” Again, the captive girl nodded. She understood completely what the stranger had just said. As it was, Steph didn’t think she had the energy to try to fight or escape. She could try to summon some up, she supposed, but she knew deep down inside that she would fail and that would lead to something much worse for both her and her stepbrother. One of the things Jeff had gathered for the capture of his stepsister was a package of plastic zip-ties. He realized that these would be perfect for use in showering his slave since he did not want to ruin the leather armbinder or collar. The only thing that might be ruined was her black leather blindfold and Jeff couldn’t risk taking it off at this stage of Stephanie’s transformation. Perhaps he should look through his parent’s collection of bondage gear to see if they had something he could use. Stephanie let the stranger maneuver her into the shower. Her parents had just re-done their bathroom and the shower was one of those glass-enclosed full body showers. Steph loved it and occasionally snuck a shower in there while her parents were away. She also noticed that there were various hooks and eyebolts set around and she imagined that they were for hanging up and drying clothes or her mother’s various loofah sponges. I did not occur to her that they might have a far more kinkier purpose. Jeff, however, saw how useful they could be and planned on using the bolts to their utmost advantage. He hooked Stephanie’s leash to one of the bolts before going to his parent’s bondage armoire to see if her could find something a bit more waterproof to blindfold his stepsister with. The array of bondage gear was astounding. Jeff had not really looked through it carefully. Everything was neatly organized by function. There were gags and restraint straps and collars of all sorts. There was one drawer of various vibrators and dildos and other stimulators. In a drawer on the bottom, one that Jeff really hadn’t looked through, he found what he was searching for. The long drawer was filled with a variety of latex and rubber restraints and clothing. Amongst these was a variety of hoods and one in particular caught his eye. It was a white latex hood that covered all but the wearer’s mouth and buckled into place around the neck. There were air holes for breathing through the nose and a hole in back to pull a ponytail through. It was perfect. Taking it, he went back to his captive. “Slave,” the voice said, “I am going to take your gag out and then remove your blindfold. Keep your eyes shut or the last thing you will see is my knife slitting your throat. Do you understand, slave? Stephanie understood all too well and she nodded her head. “Good. Stand still slave.” The blonde girl was glad to be rid of her current gag. The steel ring that forced her jaws open was very uncomfortable and caused her to drool uncontrollably. The blindfold was next Stephanie was sorely tempted to open her eyes as the stranger peeled it off of her, but she did not. She had already felt what pain he could inflict and she was convinced that he might indeed kill her if she did not obey his wishes. Stephanie felt her hair being gently gathered together in a ponytail then threaded through something. She then felt something being pulled down over her head, not unlike a latex swimming cap. However, unlike a swimming cap, the stranger continued to roll the rubber down over her eyes and nose, eventually encapsulating her entire head. The latex mask ended just underneath her chin with a small opening for her mouth and a couple of small holes for breathing through her nose. Stephanie then felt something pull underneath her chin and tighten. The hood was now laced into place. “Open wide, slave,” the metallic voice ordered. The girl felt a rubber ball being forced between her teeth, not unlike the first gag she wore, though not quite as big. Jeff tightened the straps of the red ballgag and stepped back to admire his work. His stepsister was indeed a picture perfect slave. Speaking of which. . . The hood seemed to mute most of her senses. It sealed Stephanie’s eyes closed as well as ears. The latex smell filled her nose and the rubber-tasting gag only heightened the feeling that her whole head was encased. She hadn’t even realized that Jeff had left to get the camera and was setting it up. Jeff realized that the next part was the most dangerous and could unravel everything her had done. However, the white leather armbinder had to come off. Jeff gathered up the zip-ties and stepped in back of his captive stepsister. Stephanie felt the stranger unbuckling the various straps holding her arms in the single glove then slowly he began to slide it off. He stopped half way and encircled her arms with a thin strap just above her elbows. As the stranger tightened it, the strap bit into her skin a bit, causing her to gasp in pain. This did not stop the stranger as he put another strap below her elbows and tightened it as well. The captive continued to feel the armbinder being peeled off until it slid off her hands. Quickly, the stranger gathered her wrists together and pulled another thin strap around them, binding them together as well. Jeff was satisfied that there was no way for his stepsister to escape as she tried to move weakly against her new bindings. Hastily, Jeff undressed and stepped in beside Steph. A warm spray soon engulfed the blonde as she felt the stranger gently turned her around, making sure that nearly all of her was soaked. Again, she noted that his touches and grasps were that of a lover, not of a thug, and she felt a flutter of butterflies through her as his touch. It was quite unlike anything she had ever felt before. Soon she also felt the soft scour of a soapy loofah sponge scrubbing her legs and slowly working upward. The stranger paid attention to every bit of her, washing her and rinsing her. The warmth of her last orgasms had not gone away and she felt herself getting excited again at his touch, especially when he paid close attention to the soft patch of curls above her sex. “Spread your legs, slave.” Stephanie did so without a single thought. It was almost natural to obey him now. “Further.” The captive’s stance widened and she felt the stranger begin to soap her mons. Then she felt the slow graze of a razor being pulled through her nest. Stephanie felt both appalled and wanton as he continued to shave her pussy bald. Up to this point, she didn’t think she could feel any more naked than being tied and helpless under the eyes of this stranger. However, this man was bearing her even more and it caused her to blush. “Quit squirming, slave, or I will cut you.” Stephanie struggled to be still. The depilation did not take long and with a soft washcloth, the stranger wiped her mons clean. “You look beautiful, slave,” the stranger said in his distorted electric voice. The captive felt herself blush again. Men had called her many things, such as ‘sexy’ and ‘hot’, but this was the first time she had been told that she looked beautiful. Jeff turned the shower off and began to pat dry his hooded prisoner. As he rubbed the towel over her, she seemed to stand prouder. He shook his head. He must be imagining things. He buckled her white leather collar around her neck and clipped the leash to it again. He then led her out of the bathroom into his parent’s bedroom, sitting her down on their parent’s bed. Jeff was fully conscious that her bindings for sleeping had to be comfortable to his stepsister. There were white fleece-lined cuffs in their wardrobe and he had selected these for Steph for the night. The ankle cuffs went on first, locking them in place with a small lock. Raising the blonde from the bed, he did the same for her wrists after snipping the zip-tie that held her wrists together. Jeff then undid the other bindings above and below her elbows, causing a sigh of relief from his captive. “It’s time to sleep, slave,” Jeff said as he hooked her lead onto the headboard of the bed, “I will be with you shortly after I tend to a few things.” Even though she was exhausted, sleep was the last thing on Stephanie’s mind. The shower had left her with goose bumps and a need within her that she could not assuage being bound as she was. Perhaps when the stranger returned. . . ...

(story continues from The Summer Project)_ Part 2 Jeff looked upon his bound stepsister Stephanie through the viewfinder of his video tape recorder as she feebly struggled naked on the bed. The clamps that were fastened to each of her nipples to the comforter held her beautifully in place as he set up the camera to film her. In the weeks to come, Jeff wanted to document everything he could. She was a beautiful sight, lying there bound, wrists cuffed behind her back, ankles bound tightly together, blindfolded, gagged, and a rope taut through her pussy lips. Her struggles had become less and less violent as she realized she could not get away. ...

(story continues from The Summer Project 2)_ Part 4 Jeff looked at his bound stepstepsister as she lay in bed. Stephanie’s arms were encased in a white leather armbinder. A pair of white ankle cuffs and a chrome spreader bar was holding her legs open. A white collar graced her neck. Save for the red ball gag and the black leather blindfold, she was picture perfect. However, Jeff needed to move her to the bathroom. ...

(story continues from The Summer Project 4)_ Part 6 “I think you will like these games, slave,” Jeff said as he gently caressed a line over both of his captive’s breasts. Stephanie looked beautiful, sitting bound as she was. Her arms were encased in a white leather armsheath that made her breasts jut forward as if begging for attention. Her eyes were still blindfolded by a white leather blindfold that matched her single-glove binder and white medical tape sealed her lips shut. Leather cuffs were still locked around each ankle and a spreader bar held the blonde’s legs open. She was still flushed from her recent orgasm and her long, blonde hair was tangled about her face. She was an angel in bondage and for the next several weeks, Jeff would turn his stepsister into a sex slave to use as he pleased. ...

(story continues from The Summer Project 6)_ Part 7 “Nnnnnnuggghhhh!” Jeff’s bound stepsister wailed through her tape gag, shaking her head at the same time. “Did I give you permission to cum, slave?” Jeff’s metallic-twisted voice questioned and he stood over Stephanie. Slowly Stephanie shook her head, tears running down from behind her leather blindfold. She lay on her parent’s hallway carpet, her arms sheathed in a white-leather arm binder and her ankles being held apart by a chrome spreader bar. A pair of clothespins had been snapped onto each nipple, torturing her breasts. White medical tape sealed the blonde’s lips shut and a white collar encircled her throat. She was anyone’s dream slave and right now, that dream slave belonged to her stepbrother, Jeff. ...

(story continues from The Summer Project 7)_ Part 8 When the vibrator started in her ass, Stephanie first reaction was to push it out of her. But the intruder’s promise of punishment overrode her natural repugnance to the device. Then the second vibrator started, humming and twisting in her pussy while the nub against her clit began to buzz. The combination of the two was overwhelming and as the blonde relaxed a bit more, she found that the new sensation in her rear helped stimulate the rest of her, causing her to moan little moans into her gag and to start to rock her hips. Briefly the captive blonde wondered what the intruder was doing. Stephanie strained to hear the stranger. She thought she heard him in the kitchen. He was probably on the phone there, but she couldn’t make out anything he said. The twin stimulations made it hard for her to focus and she could feel another orgasm beginning to brew inside her. Her moans grew a little more as she lay there, bound. “Dinner is on its way, slave,” Jeff’s electronically twisted voice said as he patted her on the head, “I hope you like Chinese. I figure we have about thirty minutes before the delivery boy arrives.” Jeff noticed that his captive stepsister was already starting to hump her hips. Her tan skin contrasted wonderfully with the white leather armbinder and collar and as she lay there, Jeff combed her long, blonde hair back so he could see her blindfolded and tape-gagged face. Hogtied as she was, Stephanie was going nowhere and the cold eye of the camera was going to catch it all. The girl felt the warm hands of the intruder as he eased her over onto her side. The stranger’s hand began to lightly trace over the curves of her body, drawing little circles over her thighs and flat of her stomach and between her breasts. The only place they did not touch was her nipples, still aching from the removed clothespins. Each touch stimulated her more, causing the pleasure inside of her to simmer just a bit more. “Do you enjoy this, slave?” the metallic voice asked. Stephanie nodded and mewled her agreement through her gag. His light touches continued over her body. Then Stephanie felt his lips kiss the bony part of her hip. It was a soft, tender kiss and he repeated it again across her belly. When he came to her navel, she squirmed a bit as his tongue reamed it, tickling her. In his lust, Jeff had almost forgotten just how ticklish certain parts of his stepsister could be. The intruder’s kisses trailed up from her stomach and between her breasts and around her collar. He brushed back her hair and began to nibble at her earlobe, something that drove her absolutely wild. The vibrators were doing their part, especially the one against her clit. The high pitched humming sent wave after wave of pure bliss through her, each one helping the orgasm lurking within her build. Her hips pumped upon the vibrator. As she did this, she bumped the back of the couch and accidentally pushed the anal vibrator deeper inside of her. It wasn’t painful. The feel of the two vibrators humming together inside of her seemed more and more erotic as she felt her pleasure grow. Stephanie would have never guessed just how pleasurable this would be. When she ordered her few toys online, she always quickly clicked over the butt plugs and anal stimulators. She thought how dirty they were and only a true slut would ever use one of those. . . Stephanie was now a true slut. The stranger seemed to know that she was about to cum and just needed a little more stimulation to put her over the brink. His rough tongue licked at one of her nipples, then the other one in turn. Stephanie moaned loudly through her gag. “You can not cum yet, slave.” Stephanie moaned her frustration. Ecstasy was just a touch or two away yet she could not give into it for fear of pain. Mentally, she tried to force the pending orgasm down deep inside of her, but the more she tried, the more she threatened to boil over into pure heaven. WHACK! Stephanie screamed into her gag at the pain as Jeff slapped her thigh. “Cum, slave, and you will endure more pain than you could possibly imagine.” Stephanie whimpered into her gag. She couldn’t stave off cumming forever. Sooner or later it would engulf her and there would be little she could do about it. Then the doorbell rang. The intruder stopped his attentions, “Dinner is here, slave, do not roll back over or you will be punished. You may cum, slave, but only while the delivery guy is inside the house. You will not be allowed to cum afterward, slave. Do you understand?” Stephanie nodded her head quickly, knowing her orgasm was close. “I am going to leave you then, slave, but keep in mind both the delivery guy and I can keep an eye on you on the TV.” The idea of being seen like this; naked, bound and gagged, mortified Stephanie. It also seemed to fan the flames of her growing desire to cum. Of the two, it looked like the later was going to overcome her embarrassment of the former. Jeff set down his voice distortion toy he had bought several hours ago and looked out the small window to make sure who it was. Standing there, in a tightly fitting red polo shirt and black slacks was a petite Asian girl holding Stephs and his dinner. It was even better than he had planned. Jeff opened the door, “Hi, come on in. I need to get the money from the kitchen. How much was it?” “It is twenty-two eleven,” she said as she stepped in. “Okay, I will be right back.” Jeff left the pretty delivery girl in the foyer. He glanced at the TV to make sure that she could see what was on the screen and not Stephanie herself. Pleased that it was so, he went off the kitchen to watch a bit. There was a place that he could watch the delivery girl without her seeing him. The girl stood there nervously, head bowed as if trying not to watch what was on the television. Occasionally, when Stephanie moaned, the oriental girl would shyly look up and watch what the bound blonde was doing on the big screen. Stephanie knew deep inside that the delivery person was her watching as the twin vibrator worked their magic on her libido. The very fact that she was exposed to a stranger’s eyes sent a forbidden wave of lust through her, churning her passion into a full cascade of pleasure. An orgasm engulfed her and caused her to writhe uncontrollably in her bindings, nearly screaming through her gag. Jeff came back with a handful of bills and handed them to the girl. “You can keep the change,” Jeff said, knowing he had given the girl a generous tip. “Thank you,” the girl nervously said, leaving fairly quickly. “Your welcome,” Jeff said as the girl made her way to her green Nissan idling at the curb. Jeff smiled as he watched her. The girl was very attractive and briefly he had fantasies about kidnapping her as well, but common sense made him think better of that. Better to focus his attentions on the one that needed it most. After getting his voice distorter, Jeff went over to his bound sister and gently combed her hair out of her face. “Did you cum, slave?” the stranger’s cold voice asked. Exhausted, Stephanie nodded. After holding back the orgasm for so long, when she did let go, it was like shaking up a bottle of Champaign and then popping the cork. The pure, raw rapture filled her very soul like nothing had ever done before. It had been her most powerful orgasm ever and it left her weak and warm all over. “That is a good slave. You have obeyed my wishes so you will get to dine with me tonight.” -oOo- Michelle had delivered food to a good many strange places, but this was one of her weirdest calls. She knew that the girl on the television was probably lying on the couch. Michelle could tell that just by the woman’s screams. No stereo system was that good. And there was the smell of sex in the air. No, she had been witness to some couples kinky fantasy. And, oddly, it made Michelle a little horny. She had had fantasies like that; unspoken fantasies of being bound and helpless and at another’s mercy. However, she did not trust anyone with those fantasies. They were too dark and she was afraid of scaring away her boyfriend. . . However, the image of that bound woman kept crawling back into her mind, making it hard to drive. “God, that woman has to be the luckiest woman alive,” Michelle said out loud. Michelle also noticed that she was getting wet at the thought of being in that woman’s place. It was a long drive back to the restaurant for the delivery girl, her thoughts constantly on what she saw and what she imagined what it would be like being tied herself that way. She even reached down into her panties and between her legs to try to relieve some of the tension. However, she was hornier than ever when she pulled into the parking lot. Michelle then decided to tell her boss that she was really feeling quite ill and needed to go home and rest. Besides, it was close to the end of her shift and Chuck was there to make any deliveries that may come up. It was hard for Michelle to lie about being sick, but she managed it and soon found herself racing back to her apartment and ultimately to her bedroom. It did not take the Asian girl too long to undress and hop into her bed armed with one of her vibrators. As Michelle’s toy hummed and she started to pinch at one of her nipples, she began to imagine what it would be like to be bound in that woman’s place, unable to do anything but enjoy that man’s caresses and touches; Being made to cum again and again and again and not being able to do anything about it. The first hot waves of pleasure began to churn inside of Michelle as she caressed herself and soon, the waves crashed over her and she was in the throes of a powerful orgasm. Slowly, the joy ebbed away but did not really disappear. The image of the woman kept on surfacing and it gave rise to another orgasmic tide. Finally, after about an hour of constant stimulation, the batteries in her toy began to wan and she had exhausted herself. ‘God, I wish I could be that woman’, she thought to herself. Then she thought to herself that she could. Michelle had a delightfully sinful thought. Maybe they could invite her into their games. Just the mere thought of it sent warm ripples of lust through her. Naked, she got up and went over to her computer and began to type a letter. After she finished it, she put it in an envelope and scribbled on it ‘I Saw What You Did Last Night.’ She hurriedly got dressed again and got the envelope. Michelle knew she had to do it now or she would chicken out. She would drive to the house and quietly slip the letter into their mail slot. Then Michelle would wait for their reply. ...

(story continues from The Summer Project 8)_ Part 9 Stephanie was weak with the afterglow of her last orgasm. Her whole body felt wrung out with pleasure and she did not think she could endure any more. Yet, the vibrators were still buzzing insider her and she was helpless to stop them. “Are you ready to eat, Slave?” the metallic voice asked. Weakly, the blonde nodded yes. Steph hadn’t realized how hungry she really was. Stephanie felt a tug upon her collar, “Come, Slave.” The tied woman wriggled up into a sitting position with difficulty. Not only was she tired from the many orgasm that had torn through her in the last couple hours, but also she was also very tightly bound. Her arms were encased in a white-leather armbinder, which matched her collar, and three black leather belts encircled her legs and ankles. A black leather blindfold and several strips of tape over her mouth completed bindings. To her captor, Stephanie was turning into everything that he dreamed of and more. With another tug on her lead, Jeff pulled his stepsister up off the couch and to a teetering stance. Stephanie, with her legs bound together and weak from her exertions, was finding it difficult to balance. The only support the blonde girl had was the tension the stranger kept on her leash. “If you want your meal,” the metallic voice droned, “you had better hop to it, Slave.” With that, Stephanie felt a yank on her chain. Unsteadily, the bound girl took her first hop. It was one thing to jump when you are able to see but quiet another task to do it blindfolded. The only sense of direction she had was where the intruder was pulling her. After a few hops, she got a bit steadier. Soon, she felt the cool wood floor of the dinning room underneath her. Gently, the stranger guided her before one of the dinning room chairs and eased her down until she was kneeling on the floor in front of it. Next, the man began unbuckling the straps holding her knees and thighs together, but not the one binding her ankles. The twin vibrators were still humming within her, whispering their magic to her very soul as he took the straps away. Last, he lashed her ankles to the end of her armbinder, putting her into a genuflect hogtie. “If you loose your buzzing friends, slave, you will find out how much pain you can endure,” the metallic voice threatened. The captive blonde woman heard the stranger leave as she knelt there in her bindings. She could smell the spicy aromas of the Chinese dinner that had just been delivered and the pangs of hunger blossomed inside of her. For Stephanie, the whirl of smells and the erotic stirrings within her were an odd but potent blend and she found that she was rocking her hips again, embracing the pulsing vibrator within her. Jeff noticed that his bound stepsister was thrusting her hips again as she knelt there bound. He watched her there silently as her moans through her gag began to get louder. Despite his warnings, his captive was trying to cum again. Stephanie screamed into her gag as the intruder viciously pinched both of nipples, sending a wave of pain through her and nearly causing her to fall over. “I did NOT give you permission to cum!” The electronically twisted voice spat at her. The blonde girl sobbed as he released her nipples. She really hadn’t realized that she was indeed trying to encourage another orgasm. However, the vibrators were continuing their lascivious conjuring within her and she could feel the first roiling of an orgasm building within her despite the fresh pain in her nipples and the stern warning of her captor. “Do you want me to hurt you?” the voice asked. Stephanie shook her head no. “Then do not disobey me, slave. Do you understand?” The bound blonde nodded. “Next time, slave, it will be much more painful.” Stephanie nodded again, crying. Her mind was a typhoon of feelings and emotions and thoughts, but foremost was that she did not want to experience any more pain from this man. “Now, slave, I am going to remove your gag so that you can eat and drink. Any noise that comes out of your mouth will be punishable by extreme pain. I will gag you and throw you into the cellar and I will whip you until you fall unconscious on the cold, cement floor. I will not feed you again for 24 hours and you will wallow in your own piss and shit. Do you understand, slave?” The bound girl nodded. Jeff carefully removed the tape gag from his captive’s mouth. It stung a bit as it pulled away from her lips, but it wasn’t as bad as she had expected. Jeff then pulled out the soaked foam ball from her mouth, setting it on the table. Stephanie worked her jaws a bit. “Spread you legs, slave,” the stranger commanded. The blond girl did as she was told to the limits of her restraints. Stephanie could feel the stranger’s eyes savoring her every curve and shadow and the thought sent little erotic pulses through her despite what she was being forced to do. The minutes seemed like lifetimes as she waited for the stranger to do something. Stephanie felt his fingers gently brush through her pubis, touching off a wave of unbidden pleasure. “Do you want to cum, slave?” Stephanie moaned and nodded her head. “Do you want to eat?” the stranger’s metallic voice asked. Again, the bound blonde girl nodded. “You cannot have both, slave,” the voice continued, “Whether you eat or come is your choice. If you want to eat, open your mouth wide. If you want to come, thrust your pussy into my hand.” The strangers light tickling through her nest and the ministrations of the vibrators made the choice harder then it should have been. Stephanie felt her passions rising to surface, giving hints of ecstasy to come. In the end, however, she opened up her mouth. “Good slave,” Jeff patted her on her head as he sat in the chair in front of her. The dinner was a feast of orange chicken, shrimp in garlic sauce and sweet and sour pork. The intruder fed Stephanie expertly with his chopsticks, feeding her a piece at a time and allowing her to sip her herbal tea. Several times a bit of the warm sauce would dribble onto Stephanie’s chest and she felt the man bend down over her and slowly lick it off. More than once the captive woman thought about how romantic this would be if it weren’t for the fact that she was being forced against her will into being this man’s sex slave. Throughout the dinner, the twin vibrators continued to work their magic with the blonde and a slow rising pool of ardor swirled through her. Another orgasm was not far off and the intruder seemed to sense this. Caressing a nipple here and tracing her labia there, his sprinkled his touches in while he fed her, stoking her fires. “Are you ready for dessert, slave,” the intruder’s masked voice asked. Slowly, Steph nodded yes. The captive heard her captor get up and step around in back of her, stroking back her long, golden hair. “Open wide, slave,” he commanded. Stephanie did as she was told and felt a leather and steel ring being shoved behind her teeth. Two leather straps cut into the girl’s cheeks as the man buckled the gag tightly behind her head. The device was uncomfortable and Steph moaned her displeasure as it forced her mouth open. “I thought you would like something warm and creamy,” Jeff said, stepping before the kneeling girl and unzipping his jeans. Steph had never given a blowjob before because the thought of putting a guy’s cock in her mouth disgusted her. She baulked as the stranger grabbed both sides of her head and thrust his dick through the center of the ring. The member was larger than she had thought, filling her mouth and ramming down part of her throat. The blonde captive gagged. His flesh had a salty taste to it she noticed as it withdrew a bit. Steph squirmed in her bonds as the stranger slowly pumped. “Suck my cock, slave,” Jeff ordered her, “make me cum.” Again, Steph moaned her displeasure but there was little she could do. She knew how much pain this man could inflict and had. So, like trying to eat Brussel sprouts as a kid, she thought of more pleasing things as she sealed her lips around the man’s cock. The captive tried concentrated on the erotic feelings welling up inside her, slowly threatening to engulf her. “Use your tongue, slave,” the voice spoke. As Jeff withdrew, she began to lick his shaft before he shoved it back in. Stephanie tried to imagine his dick as a warm Popsicle and adjusted her virgin technique accordingly, slurping and sucking; hearing the low groans of her captor. Jeff began to speed up, feeling his cum broiling up within him. He looked down at his step-sister’s face as he fucked her, her blonde hair now in disarray over her blindfolded eyes. Faster and faster he rocked her head until he could hold it back no longer and shot hot jism into Stephanie’s mouth. The man’s cum was salty and a little waxy tasting and Stephanie tried not to think about what it was as she continued her servicing of the man and swallowing his seed. “That’s it, slave, lick me clean.” The man’s cock was no long as rigid as it had been as Steph did as she was ordered to. It did not take it long to shrink away to where she could do much else. She felt him step back and pat her on the head. “Good slave,” he said, “Now do not cum until I command. I will be back to take care of your needs.” The bliss that had been building with Stephanie had not diminished. Tied as she was, there was very little she could do save for enjoying the hum of the phalluses in both her pussy and rectum. There was nothing to grind against or force the vibrator in deeper. She knew the table leg was close but she also knew the pinch of the man’s clothespins. After using the restroom, Jeff returned to his stepsister, swaying and moaning as she knelt on the dining room floor. “Would you like to cum, slave?” Jeff asked. “AHHHHH-HAAHHHH,” Stephanie practically yelled into her gag. Jeff smiled. “Show me how much you want to cum, slave.” The blonde began writhing in her bonds, thrusting herself towards the voice. The orgasm that was building within her was just a few touches away but she knew she couldn’t achieve it herself. She needed and lusted for the release it would give her. The stranger’s warm fingers began to gently pinch her stiffened nipples, sending bolts of pure pleasure through her. His fingers then traced down the flat of her stomach and through her soft nest. She felt him grasp the end of the vibrator. “Do not cum yet.” Stephanie moaned her frustration. The waves of pleasure were crashing at her gates and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold back. The stranger shoved the buzzing dildo all the way inside her. “Cum, slave.” Crashing waves of bliss consumed her as she squirmed and threw herself against her bindings so violently the stranger had to grab a hold of her or she would have fell to the kitchen floor. Wave after erotic wave swallowed her as she bucked until it ebbed away, leaving the girl completely drained and limp. “I think it is time to get you to bed, slave,” the voice said, kneeling down to unfasten her hogtie. To Be Continued. . . Since it is usually a long space of time between postings and re-postings of this story, I am compiling a mailing list so that you can receive chapters as they are produced. If you would like to be on that list, please e-mail me at [email protected]. Any and all comments are welcomed and appreciated. ...

“So when are you going to take these things off me?” Tonya asked in her sultry voice, displaying her handcuffed wrists to her husband as he drove their Toyota pick-up. Grant smiled his lop-sided, ‘I-got-something-up-my-sleeve’ smile, “I left the keys at home. . .” “WHAT!” Tonya nearly shouted. “I didn’t think we would need them at the Halloween party tonight, Tonya-love, so I just didn’t bring them,” Her husband said, knowing full well that one of the pair of keys hung on his keychain. ...

Outside the rented cabin, Kim could see that large, light snowflakes were slowly drifting down. She smiled as she lay there, bound, the flames from the fireplace making her cinnamon-colored skin glow a molten bronze. Nothing could be more perfect than this, Kim thought to herself, to be alone with a man who adored you and would use you the way both of you wanted. Kim struggled a bit in her bindings to see if her boyfriend had indeed done his job well. He had and she found that there was very little slack in the ropes that encircled her small frame. Her arms were bound behind her back and to the harness of rope that ran behind her neck and over her shoulders and embraced her large breasts. Each of her ankles was bound to her thigh, making for a wonderfully tight frogtie, a position that she had grown to love. He had said he had something special for her tonight and he had been thinking about this for sometime now. “Comfortable,” David asked with a big grin on his face as he walked into the room dressed in his dark red robe. “As comfortable as a girl can be tied up like this,” Kim replied, squirming a bit; more to peak David’s interest in her than anything else. Kim always liked his roguish looks; long dark hair bound in a ponytail, goatee and mustache with hints of gray, a loop-sided smile and hazel eyes that sparkled of mischief and playfulness. Long waisted, he carried his 5'7" frame well. Kim knew what other assets he had underneath the robe, and most likely they were at attention right now. “Are you ready for the games to begin, my bound little geisha girl?” David asked as he knelt down beside her. “Ready when you are, Master,” she smiled. “Okay, here’s the thing,” David said as he gently ran his finger over the smooth, golden curves, “The punishment for failing tonight is to be hogtied the rest of the evening at the foot of our bed. You will be gagged and a toy will keep you company on and off all night. You will also be blindfolded so you will not be able to see when I will flog you at various times during the night at random. You will also have a pair of nipple clamps clipped onto you and attached to the foot of the bed, making sure you stay put. If you cum at anytime during the night, you will stay bound that way until I think you have been punished enough. The more you cum, the longer you stay that way. Then, if you a good slave, I will make love to you in the morning.” To Kim, the punishment did not sound bad at all. “If you pass this test tonight,” David continued, “Let us just say, let your imagination run wild.” Either way, Kim thought, it was going to be fun and she was sure she was up to anything that David may come up with. With eager eyes, she watched him produce a Tupperware bowl, it’s outside still covered with frost. She couldn’t make out what was inside, but she was sure it was ice cold. David also produced a thin gel vibrator, which gleamed in the firelight. It was one that they had both picked out and filled her nicely. The third thing her boyfriend pulled out was a black leather flogger. After laying these on the coffee table beside Kim, he undid his robe and tossed it to the side. She was glad to see that she had his attention and that he was now fully erect. David knelt between her legs and looked into her dark, almond-shaped eyes and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Their lips met and soon their tongues began dancing around one another. She enjoyed the feel of him above her and his manhood against her stomach. Soon, his lips parted hers and he began to slowly kiss at her neck and down over her shoulders. David took his time to taste every bit of her as she lay bound beneath him, unable to do anything but enjoy. Soon, David’s ears were greeted by Kim’s little moans as he felt her move beneath him. Kim felt his lips kiss her left nipple, already stiff from when he was binding her. He suckled at it, taking it between his teeth and gently nibbling on it before going switching to the other one; Back and forth; sending bolts of pleasure shooting through her. David’s kisses then trailed downward, over the flat of her stomach and then to her clean-shaven mons. And there he stopped. Without a word, David reached over and picked-up the vibrator. With a wicked smile on his face, he slowly eased it into Kim. She had spread her legs as wide as she could in her bindings and as aroused as she was, David had little trouble easing the toy all the way inside her. He then picked up the controls and turned it on low. The hum of the thing soon sent ripples of bliss through her and caused her to moan much more loudly. Kim wondered what was next. Usually when she was bound David would also gag her. He loved the sounds she made when she was gagged and it seemed to spur him on more. But she was not to be gagged this time. “Now, my darling slave,” David smiled, “You can’t lose your friend here. If he comes out, you lose the game.” “If you insist,” Kim grinned back, enjoying the feelings the vibrator was causing within her. “And, my slave, you cannot cum until I tell you or you lose the game as well.” Kim pouted the best she could, but she knew it would have little effect on David. “Now, let’s warm up that little pussy of yours,” David said as he picked up the black leather flogger. Splatt! The first flog splayed over her mons with a sharp almost pain. It caused her to spasm a bit and she almost lost her buzzing friend. The second flog followed the first on her naked puss and she began to feel that warm, erotic glow that came with the flogging. With the vibrator within her and the flog whipping on her, Kim soon felt an orgasm start to churn within her. Splatt! This time David had flicked his wrist a little harder, stinging Kim’s most private parts. “I haven’t given you permission to cum, slave,” David said sternly. “I wasn’t cumming, Master,” Kim protested. “You were about to.” “Sorry Master,” she bowed her head as he began to whip her pussy again more gently. Still the white-hot erotic bliss would not go away and his whippings made it even more pleasurable. Then David stopped. He could tell by Kim’s squirming that she was indeed close to orgasm and he didn’t want her to cum just yet. He reached over into the bowl and pulled out a half frozen cherry. “The last part of this game, slave, is that I am going to place these one at a time over your body and you cannot lose a single one off of you. If you do, you lose the game.” Kim screamed as he put the first cherry on. It was biting cold. Fortunately, David had cut them in half so it did not roll off of her. David kissed a spot on her stomach and placed another cherry there; it felt colder than the first one. Each warm kiss followed a cold cherry until he came to her nipples. Slowly he licked and nibbled at them, sending more waves of joy through her. Then, taking out a nearly full cherry, he placed it on her one nipple, than the other. It felt as if they were so cold that they would give her freezer burn. Then he began to kiss around her shaven puss. “No, Master, please,” Kim whimpered, already squirming from the heat inside of her and the cold he was placing on her. David grinned and continued by placing a few cut cherries on her mons. It was pure torture. The nips of cold on her naked flesh did little to relieve the swirling orgasm building inside of her like a molten whirlpool. In fact, it was like having David whip her with the flogger. She looked up at him watching her writhe below him in her bonds. “May I please cum, Master?” Kim asked. “Nope,” he replied. “Awwwwwww!” Kim whined as she continued to struggle to keep her orgasm from surfacing. Then David knelt down and picked up one of the cherries in his lips, kissing her at the spot. His kiss felt red hot where the cold fruit was. Then he kissed her on the lips, passing the cherry to her. “You have to eat each one,” David whispered as Joy began to eat. Slowly, David removed each cherry, saving the ones one her nipples and mons until last. Occasionally, he would turn up the volume on the vibrator; send more pleasure rushing through Kim as she lay there, bound. Twice, she could feel her orgasm starting to crest, but she mentally fought it down. After the last cherry was given to Kim, David knelt between Kim’s legs, gently easing them apart. “Do you want to cum?” he asked her. “Yes Master,” she replied, thrusting herself towards him. David smiled, “I don’t think so. Not just yet, anyways. I really don’t think you want to cum.” “Fuck me, Master, fuck me now!” Kim nearly yelled, bucking in her bonds. “A demanding slave, aren’t we?” “Pllleeeaassssse, Master,” she moaned. “I think I am going to have to gag you. A good slave should be seen and not heard,” Kim’s boyfriend said as he got up. “No, Master, No,” Kim said, “Please forgive me. I just want to cum so badly.” “You, see, dear slave, you should want to please me more than you should want me to please you. I will let you cum only after you please me. I do not want to hear a single word out of you now.” David reached into the pocket of his discarded robe and pulled out the gag. It wasn’t a ball gag or a penis gag or the like. This one looked like a bright red leather ‘O’ with leather straps on either side. “Open wide,” David said. Kim did as she was told, even though she knew that in making love to her, they would both be satisfied. This way, David could torture her a bit more. She struggled a bit to raise herself up to make it easier for him to tie the gag onto her and that is when she felt it. A cold cherry on her side was resting on her rib cage. It must have slid off of her and David didn’t notice. Quickly, she squirmed over a bit to lie on top of it so he wouldn’t notice. Apparently, David didn’t even notice. He was carefully placing the gag into Kim’s mouth. The ‘O’ ring was fitted behind her teeth, forcing her mouth open. It was a bit uncomfortable but bearable. The bitter taste of the leather filled her mouth. David then placed the vibrator controls on the flat of her stomach. David looked into her dark brown eyes. “Okay?” he asked. Kim nodded her head. Whenever they tried something new, he would ask her. When she was gagged, all she had to do if there was any trouble was to hum a tune and they would stop play and make right anything that needed to be. “Alright, slave, let us get you ready to please me.” David knelt down and put his arms under her small frame. She squirmed around, of course, but not to get her boyfriends attention. Frantically, she tried to grab at the loose cherry with her bound hands, but it was useless. David had scooped her up too quickly and now was carrying her towards the bedroom. ‘Maybe he didn’t notice,’ the bound woman thought to herself as she looked over to see if she could see the errant cherry. But she didn’t see it and she hoped he wouldn’t find it. With the vibrator still humming its song within her, keeping her embers burning but not enough to burst into flame, she still had a desperate need to orgasm. David carried his Asian girlfriend into the bedroom and not-to-gently tossed her onto the large brass bed that dominated the room. He had already lit the two hurricane lamps that flanked the head of the bed and their amber glow filled the room. The dark red and black quilt had not been turned down yet and made Kim looked like a packaged caramel treat. Kim almost lost her vibrator when David dumped her on the bed. She enjoyed it a little rough and this was part of the game, to be treated like an object. She moaned and writhed on the bed to keep David’s attention on her. Kim thrusted her naked pussy to him, hoping he would finally cave in and take her. However, David didn’t. He just grinned and rolled Kim over onto her stomach and wrestled her into place so her head hung over the side of the bed. David also found the controls to the vibrator and placed them in her hand. “Remember, slave, you cannot cum until I command you to,” David said in a stern voice, brushing her black hair our of her face, “Do you understand?” Kim nodded, her hand touching the dial setting of the vibrator and just barely easing it up a notch. The vibrator buzzed a little bit higher, sending a new wave of pure bliss through her. She was so close and now the ability to give herself an orgasm was in the palm of her hand and she didn’t dare use it. “I mean it, slave. Orgasm and you will be hogtied the rest of the night at the foot of the bed.” The Asian girl nodded again. David got off the bed and stood in front of her. Now she could understand why she was placed in that position. She was face-to-face, so to speak, with David’s erection. He gently cupped her head and eased himself through the hole in the ring gag. The salty taste of David’s skin tasted good as she took him into her mouth. She could close her lips around him and lick his burled shaft. Slowly, he started to thrust into her mouth through her gag as deeply as he could and her head matched his movements as well as her breathing so she wouldn’t gag. Kim liked the sounds he made during sex as well. David made a low guttural growl that seemed both wild and dangerous like a growl of a wolf. They picked up in speed the closer he came to orgasm. David’s thrusts became more and more violent as he cupped her head. Not enough to hurt Kim but she would have preferred a slower tempo. Her poor pussy was twitching with need and she decided to risk it and turn the vibrator up some more. It sang in her pussy and caused her fires to burn even hotter, filling her with an erotic pleasure that would soon climb and engulf her. ‘Splatt!’ David had also carried in the flogger with him and its bite stung her rear. It was a slight pain that added to her fires, not diminishing them. Kim felt David’s shaft enlarge a bit and she knew he was about to spurt his seed into her mouth. She had learned to enjoy the salty taste of semen and it looked like David was not going to give her a choice tonight. ‘Fuck it!’ Kim thought to herself and turned the vibrator on high. Immediately her whole world disappeared into a swirling pyre of white-hot ecstasy as wave after spasming wave of pleasure enwrapped her as she writhed in her bondage. David soon let out a loud moan and Kim felt his seed shoot into her mouth. She had almost gagged but David’s moan roused her out of her blissful fog just enough to prepare for it. She hungrily sucked at his cock, making sure that she licked his shaft clean as much as possible. David eased himself out her mouth after a bit and crawled into bed beside his bound partner. Kim was still twitching a bit from her orgasm and it’s afterglow warmed her very soul like nothing else. She had to shut the vibrator off before she had another one. Hopefully David didn’t notice. “You came, didn’t you?” He asked. Kim nodded slowly, not looking up at her boyfriend. “I told you not to.” Again, Kim nodded. “You will have to be punished.” For a third time, Kim nodded her head. But she knew the orgasm was worth it. The only thing she felt bad about was disappointing David. ...