Bondage

“B is for bondage,” Kara says, a smile on her face. You look up at her, seeing her legs long and tanned, her cleavage thrusting against her tight blue top. You feel your hardening cock being bitten into by the CBT device and clench your teeth, but then, all of a sudden, the shiny device transforms to liquid and slides off your genitals.

"To be honest," she says, "I have no need for bondage." She leans over and wraps her fingers around your neck, gripping you and then effortlessly heaving you into the air. "You'll always be helpless to me, whether bound or not," she says, and drops you back down on the floor, landing on your back, pain running up your spine. "So," she says, "I see little need for physical restraints, apart from stopping you playing with that puny penis."

You look into her deep blue eyes, wondering where this is leading, wondering whether you'll skip straight to the letter C and whatever tortures that letter holds.

“Still, there are slaves that need to be kept amused," she says, and, as if on cue, a muscular middle-aged man dressed in a costume of leather and chains enters the room, carrying a dark leather bag. The man has brown hair and grey sideburns, and his flesh is covered in bruises and scars. "This is Grimbor, the Master of Bondage," Kara says by way of introduction, "and I'm sure he'll provide you with something comfortable to wear."

She pulls you up to your feet, and Grimbor drags a mass of chains and leather and wires out of his bag. She holds you there helplessly by your wrists, as he starts to fasten them to you, fashioning a costume that covers your whole body from the neck down. You were expecting them to be tight, but the result is loose-fitting, almost comfortable, and your genitals, with your cock still erect from Kara's dominating closeness, are uncovered and free, apart from a narrow strip separating your balls from your penis.

"Now to leave you to Grimbor's mistress. Her name is Charma and you'll do whatever she tell you to," Kara says with a smile, releasing you from her grasp. She turns to Grimbor. "Tell your mistress to show him no mercy. Also, if she's feeling submissive, she's always welcome to join me later. She knows I dream of hurting her, as much as she dreams of hurting you."

And then Kara is gone, and you're left standing with Grimbor, both of you silent, as you wait for whatever's going to happen next. You see the way he's looking at you; it seems to be a mixture of admiration for the costume he's made for you and pity for whatever his mistress will be doing to you.

Then you hear her stilettos approaching, and when she comes in you know that you'll have to do whatever she says. With her beautiful red hair, luscious yellow skin, and what little costume she's wearing made of black leather, you've never met a woman so irresistible.

She stands there, still, and with looks like hers she doesn't need to do anything. Your hard-on gets harder as your eyes pour over her every pore, and she's content to let you do it all day. "Mistress Charma," Grimbor tells her, "Mistress Kara says to show him no mercy and-"

"Did I say you could talk?" Charma asks him, while staring directly at you in the way you can't help but stare at her.

"No, Mistress," says Grimbor.

"Punch yourself, Grimbor, continuously," Charma tells him, and he obliges, his fists flying into his face, soon knocking himself to the ground. "In the guts, in the nuts, alternating," she adds, and then turns her attention fully to you, ignoring the mounting moans and squeals of her old ****.

"Will you do anything I ask?" she says, drawing an index figure down her body, between her breasts, down past her navel.

"Yes," you can't help but reply, willing to do whatever she wants and more.

"Fuck me."

You look at her perfect skin, her sexy figure, and even though your cock and balls are still hurting from Kara, you know that there's nothing you'd rather do now than fuck Charma, apart from fuck her over and over again.

You step towards her, and hear a click, but ignore it, your eyes focused on her slim hips, her curvaceous body. Another step, and another click, and as you move nearer you realise your outfit's getting tighter; Grimbor's trap closing in on you. It doesn't matter though, because you have to follow this sexy siren's orders. Bring your snake to the Charma. But with every step, the chains restrain you more and more, now closed around your swollen balls, your engorged cock, pinching against your skin, your nipples.

You try and ignore the pain, you have to do what Charma's asked of you, and so you take another step, but you can't walk anymore, your legs unable to move with the chains cutting into them, and you fall into the ground, your erect cock smashing against the ground.

You cry out in pain, but try to inch along the ground, trying to reach her. You can see her leather boots just in front of you, and strain to move forwards, as your costume cuts into you, wraps tightly around your neck, as you struggle to breathe, your eyes and sinews bulging.

And now you can no longer move, as you look up at her, and she looks down at you and smiles, a smile that lights up the room just before everything goes dark.