Strangers on a Train
Joseph Smailes was the last man one’d wish to be seated beside on a crowded commuter train. However, he seemed determined to make me his boon companion. As the weeks went by he seemed intent on discussing his marital problems with me. Why he should choose me, I’ve no idea, as no one would take me to be the sympathetic type – the direct opposite in fact.
Anyway, in a nutshell, his wife, Abigail, had him by the balls. She decided how much they’d spend and on what. The restaurants they patronised were chosen by her and his choices from the menus were those suggested by his wife. Joe’s sex life was meagre and directed completely by his wife.
“What she needs, old mate, is a dose of good old fashioned discipline,” I advised him.
He shook visibly, “…. Oh, ….. Oh, I don’t think I could manage that……..”
“It’s easy, just let her know what’s what, skirt up, knickers down, a few hard slaps to begin with, it’ll soon teach her a lesson and, as a bonus, put her in the mood for a good screw.”
Joseph blanched, but I could see that he liked the idea.
“If need be, this week-end, keep her restrained.”
“Yes, of course, tie her up, the tighter the better. Show her who’s boss.”
“I doubt that I could pull it off,” he shook his head sadly and rattled his copy of the Times.
“Well, if you’re happy with the way things are, then, carry on,” I remarked as I took up my copy of the Daily Telegraph.
I didn’t catch sight of Joe Smailes the following Monday and wondered to myself if he’d had the balls to teach the bitch he was married to a lesson. Then, on Tuesday he huffed and puffed into the carriage and joined me. The first thing I noticed was that he had a puffy eye and a row of vivid scratch marks across his cheek.
“You didn’t pull it off, then,” I commented.
He grunted, “What’s it look like.”
“She’s quite strong, you know, and when I tried to pull her across my lap she kicked my shins and then went to work on my face.”
“I gather she didn’t like the idea?”
“Not so’s you’d notice.”
“Sorry, old son, just goes to show, never take advice from a stranger on a train.”
He pulled at his rather long chin and then said, “But…. But, I like the idea…… It turns me on.”
“What, having Abigail helpless and completely at your disposal?”
“Yes…. Yes, I’d so like to do it.”
“Easily done, just try again, but plan it carefully.”
He thought for a moment, “I don’t suppose you would help me out, I’ll bet you have some experience of this sort of thing.”
I smiled expansively, “The same thing turns me on and I can assure you that it turns on a solid minority of women too.”
“How would you go about the subjugation of Abigail?”
“Treat it as a military operation, lull her into a false sense of security, do as she says, follow her every whim, apologise at every opportunity for your failed attempt. Whilst you’re engaged in this, prepare carefully. Have your ropes, gags, nipple clamps, vibrators…….”
“I haven’t any such equipment…….,” he interrupted.
“Get them. It’s not difficult. I presume you have heard of the internet?”
“Yes, of course, but………”
“You can have them delivered to my address.”
“You’re a pal, but go on, what do I do next?”
“Take her by surprise. Take the day off work, return home and let yourself in quietly and wait for the right opportunity.”
“Hmmmmmm……..,” he muttered doubtfully.
“For goodness sake, it’s plain sailing. Tie her up, wrists, arms, ankles, thighs, breasts and a crotch rope for good measure.”
“Abigail! Me tie her private parts!”
“I’d do it like a shot.”
“Would you? Would you really?”
“My dear chap, it’s not me she needs to respect – it’s you.”
“Yes, but you could get her into the way of the thing, you said yourself that it’s possible she’d like it.”
“That’s true, but at the very least I’d be carrying out a sexual assault. I’m no criminal, all of my experience has been consensual.”
“I can’t go on like this and I’m too frightened of her to ask for a divorce, besides, she’d take me to the cleaners, pension pot and all.”
I considered for a moment before replying, “Look, you tell her I’m a colleague from out of town and you’ve had to ask me around for a meal. Once I’ve met her I’ll be able to decide whether there’s anything I can do to help you out.”
His eyes sparkled, possibly for the first time since he discovered wanking, “Would you? Oh, yes, that would help, it would help enormously, I’m quite sure of that.”
Abigail turned out to be the perfect hostess. She welcomed me warmly and I was soon sitting comfortably with an aperitif, talking to Joe, whilst she busied herself in the kitchen. She was an attractive woman in her mid thirties, tall, but not too tall, slim, but not too slim, perhaps the description that fitted her best was that she was very womanly. Smartly dressed in a well cut, knee length red skirt, her blouse was of a silky black material which contrasted well with a red neckerchief which she’d fashionably knotted to one side (I immediately thought how well it would look tied into her mouth). Her shoes had a medium heel and she wore nearly black stockings or tights with a high gloss effect which shimmered their way into my mind, stiffening my cock in the process.
We ate well and drank two bottles of red wine between us, then after coffee Abigail produced a decanter of good vintage port.
It soon became apparent that Joe couldn’t take drink very well, not that he was a noisy or aggressive drunk, merely a sleepy one. His head drooped on to his arms which were resting on the table and he began to snore gently.
“My poor little man,” said Abigail with a smile.
I looked around the spacious and well appointed dining room, “Not so poor by the look of it.”
“No, not materially, but there’s something…” she paused for a moment and then continued, “Perhaps we ought to finish our drinks in the drawing room.”
I followed her and noticed how elegantly she moved, no exaggerated movement of her hips, just her buttocks gently modulating, broadcasting a rhythm of promise.
“Do you suppose that you allow Joe to rely too heavily upon you?” I questioned, in an attempt to begin a meaningful (from my point of view anyway) discourse.
“Has he suggested that?”
“Well… Well..,” I shook my head putting on an embarrassed expression.
“Spit it out, what has he said?”
“Just last week he showed me his black eye and some rather vivid scratches.”
I was expected her to throw a tantrum and order me out of her house, but she threw back her head and laughed before saying, “Did he tell you why I scratched him?”
I shook my head, all innocence.
“He tried to slap my bottom.”
“Surely, a friendly, husbandly pat on the posterior……..”
“He had ropes and he said he intended to bind me hand and foot.”
“Ohhh… Then I gather you are not an aficionado of spanking or bondage?”
“I’ve never tried it…”
“Perhaps you’d have liked it, given a chance.”
“Once…,” she smiled at the reminiscence, “as a teenager my girlfriends tied me to a tree in my father’s orchard. The knots weren’t very tight, nor too restrictive and, I must admit, I felt a stirring.”
“You should have gone along with Joe’s plan, it might have worked for you both,” I advised.
She considered for quite a while and then said, “For a woman to allow her lover complete control of her body, she needs to both trust and respect him. While Joe and I have been very good together and I like and appreciate him, I cannot respect him in that way.”
“That is a pity. Perhaps if he blindfolded you first?”
“Hmmmm, but I’d know it was him,” she began and then added coyly, “… though I’d like to try.”
“Well, I’d like to help… I would like to tie you up..,” I gulped as I finished speaking, surely, she’d throw me out now.
“Would you…,” her tone was thoughtful.
She became the Abigail Joe had described, “I shall be in charge, you must do exactly as I say. There must be no removal of my clothing, nor any fondling and definitely no spanking.”
I nodded and my mouth went dry, “Let’s get started, do you know where Joe’s equipment is?”
“I know everything about this house,” she said as she left the room, returning shortly afterwards with a small box.
I decided to take the initiative, telling her to remove her neckerchief, which she did. The I blindfolded her with it. As I fastened the knot I drank in the perfume of her, not only was she graceful she was also fragrant.
“Begin by binding my ankles,” she ordered.
“Certainly, madam,” I replied and soon found myself enjoying the feel of her well turned, nyloned ankles. I didn’t want to frighten her off too early, so whilst she’d find it difficult to escape my binding it wasn’t as tight as I would have liked.
“Ohhhhh…,” her voice had become husky.
Her tone hardened again, “Wrists and arms, I suppose.”
No sooner said than done, her wrists were well bound and she winced a little as I pulled the cord tighter and tighter. Once her hands were tied she was mine to do with as I wished. By the time I’d pulled her elbows together and had wrapped several strands of rope around them she was breathing heavily and though I couldn’t see her eyes I knew they were melting.
Abigail coughed throatily, “What comes next? Have you any idea?”
Oh, I had plenty of ideas, my cock was asking to be taken out an stuffed into her mouth whilst my fingers were itching for nipple tweaking duty.
“Perhaps some rope around your shoulders and waist to keep your arms in place – it’ll give a more aesthetic look to it.”
“I like everything to be neat, tidy and in it’s proper place.”
Before she knew it I had her breasts squeezed between two loops of rope and cinched together at either side. She moaned and groaned a little as I dealt with her well rounded tits, but didn’t call a halt to the proceedings.
“These new binding seem to be much lower than my shoulders and far higher than my waist,” she commented.
“Would you like them removed or adjusted?” I asked, desperate now not to scare her off.
“Oh, no,” she responded quickly, her voice soft and deep, “Though I bet I look a sight from your point of view.”
“You look nearly perfect to me.”
“Do you need to add any further to my bondage?” she asked, panting gently.
I’d had a quick look in Joe’s bag and saw that he had acquired both a ball and a ring gag. I was eager to try one of them out, preferably the ‘O’ shaped one, but again I didn’t want to proceed too quickly.
“I’d like to tie your knees together, but I’m afraid I’d have to raise your skirt several inches.”
“Then do so.”
“Excuse me,” I whispered as I gently brought her down from a standing to a sitting position on to the sofa. Again her perfume wafted across my nostrils, but this time it was tinged with the indefinable scent of a woman in heat.
Taking another length of rope from Joe’s seemingly endless supply I lifted her legs on to the cushions of the sofa and very gently and slowly began to raise her skirt. It soon became apparent that she was wearing stockings, for the darker edges of their tops hove into view and I had to spend a moment trying to push my penis into a more comfortable position within my trousers.
“I hope I’m not showing too much of a length of my legs,” she said a little breathlessly. “No more than you’d show on holiday in the sun,” I replied beginning the delightful task of fastening her thighs together just above her knees. As I worked I managed to nudge her skirt further up and was rewarded with the sight of a beautifully white, flawless thigh. A suspender also poked into view and I was pleased to see that it was a good solid one, not too narrow and with a clip made of steel and not the awful plastic ones which are so common nowadays.
“I feel quite wonderful, so relaxed and free of stress….. Would you like to tie me further? Could there possibly be any further enhancements.”
What a silly question, however, I’d carried out all the bondage that she’d regard as decent and I wasn’t sure she was ready to go further, “I don’t know, I could… But…”
“Anything… Anything, further…”
“Perhaps it would be going too far; for both of us, at this experimental stage, but another rope higher up your legs and a crotch rope.”
“A crotch rope? That sounds dangerous….. But I like the sound of it.”
“I have your permission, then? It will require a further interference with your clothing,” I spoke quickly with a high nervousness.
“Yes… Oh, yes… Oh, yes, please,” her words came out in a torrent.
I fell upon her and pulled her skirt up to her waist and had to stop to gaze upon her beautiful form, shapely thighs dissected by black suspender straps, their whiteness contrasting wonderfully with the deep black of her stocking tops.
Soon my fingers were caressing the smoothness of her legs as I tightly tied her upper thighs together. Cinching them, my hand inches away from her pussy, almost brought me to a climax. As I stood up from my labours I saw that her head was tossing gently from side to side and her blindfold had dropped down and she was devouring me with her eyes.
“The crotch rope… Please, please, now, the crotch rope,” she pleaded.
“Ahum, how would you like the crotch rope…”
“How many ways are there?”
“Probably the best is with the knickers removed, it will work quite well over the top of them.”
“Pull them down, at once, pull them down.”
I was at her command, I reached for the elastic and slowly, slowly, slowly eased the panties down over her bottom, across her suspenders and down and down as far as her upper thigh bindings would allow.
Before reaching for the next piece of rope my fingers wandered on to her slit, to find it running with female juices, she was wet and slippery and beginning to moan. I pushed two digits deep into her and began to finger fuck her. She rocked to and fro as I thrust and began to make the wonderful sounds women make when aroused to a high pitch.
'What’s in this for me?' I asked myself, as I began tying a rope around her waist before bringing across her stomach, between her legs and neatly into her wide open sex, before fastening it to her wrist bindings.
For the first time she tried to move away from me as I took the ring gag and placed it in her mouth, fastening it securely after a moment or two.
“Mmmmppppphhh…,” she tried to say as at the same time she tugged frantically at her cunt rope.
I said nothing but looked her straight in her eyes and brought my very large cock out and proceeded to push it through the ring of the gag and into paradise.
It was then that Joe woke up. The bastard.
End of part 1.
Copyright © 2009 by Belisarius. I welcome your comments. Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org