Strangers on a Train
by Belisarius

Part 2

When I heard the crash from the dining room I immediately stuffed my cock (as best as I was able, considering it’s size and stiffness) back into my trousers. As there was nothing I could do to release Abigail quickly from her bonds I contented myself with a sharp tug on her crotch rope, an action which left her squirming with unfulfilled desire.

Shortly afterwards I found Joe stumbling about the kitchen looking for a tea-towel, “It was a present from her mother,” he moaned, pointing to the pieces of the decanter on the dining table.

I noted to the deep red stain on the table linen, “Pity about the port too.”

“Yes...” then his face twisted, “Oh, God, what will she say. What will Abigail have to say...”

I soothed him and sat him down, but he tried to rise, “I must explain to her... Best get it over with...”

“No, no, no, old chap, leave it to me, your missus and I are getting along famously,” I said as I tightened my grip on his upper arm.

“Really, Oh, good, good. Do you think you can get me out of this?”

“Not a problem, Joseph, old boy, just don’t blunder in on her at this moment, for I’m making progress with your other difficulties too, but negotiations are at a delicate and finely balanced point,” I calmed and encouraged him.

He sighed deeply, “I knew you’d do it. I knew... Don’t you think I should see her, just for a minute?”

I led him purposefully towards the stairs, “No, not to-night, I’ll not have it, you upsetting all my good work. It’s bed time for you.”

He acquiesced and soon I left him snoring in his own little boy’s bed. He had a small, square room with aeroplane pictures and a trophy he’d won at golf. He dropped off to sleep at once and as his wife wasn’t in a position to wander very far from the drawing room, I decided to explore the master (there’s a misnomer if ever I’ve heard one) bedroom.

It was a big room at the front of the house which was filled with the scent of her. Central to the room was a four-poster bed, of a light, modern design, but of solid wood and fine craftsmanship. I began to image Abigail spread naked on it, or tied to an upright, arms above her head, her cunt gleaming with cum...

These thoughts drove be back downstairs, back to my vulnerable captive. She was as I had left her, flushed of face with the cunt rope buried deep into her slit.

She mumpphed and shook her head as I stripped off every vestige of my clothing. I released her from her gag, not wishing to proceed further if it was against her will.

“What happened? Where’s Joseph?”

I explained in some detail (she always needed to know the full facts) what had occurred and her face darkened for a moment when she heard of the damage he had caused, but all she said was, “Then you’re sure he’s asleep?”

“I can almost hear his snores from here.”

“Now what happens?”

I glanced meaningfully down at my erection, “What ever you wish, you are in charge.”

“But I am helpless, bound hand and foot and at your complete mercy, you may do with me as you wish.”

Her words and her husky tone of voice increased the length of my penis by a good inch and I was about to reach for the nipple clamps and vibrator, which I thought would be a good accompaniment to the ring gag replaced in her mouth with my cock protruding through it. However, on reflection, I decided to slow the pace down a bit. When dealing with women it is always sensible to take time with their seduction, it generally pays off.

“Well, even though you are as helpless as I can make you, I am even more tightly bound by the rules of convention and civilized behaviour,” as I spoke I recognised myself as a master of complete bullshit.

“You must do something more to me...” she almost pleaded.

Without a further word I replaced the ring gag, pushed her crotch binding to one side and began to bring her off with my fingers. Her thigh, knee and ankle ropes creaked in harmony with her groans and panting as she tried to force her legs apart. As a gentleman, I couldn’t let a woman suffer so, therefore, I reached into Joe’s bag and pulled out a vibrator before pulling her knees into her chest and thus exposing her cunt lips. The vibrator slipped into the red gash that was waiting for it and I switched it on, but only at a low speed. Good old Joe, he hadn’t forgotten batteries.

As she bucked on to the quivering device, I realised that I hadn’t inspected her breasts yet and so set to with a will. I opened her blouse, not bothering much with the buttons, and pulled her tits roughly out of her brassiere. Her nipples pointed like twin daggers towards me so I defended myself by giving them a good pulling and twisting session.

It was then time to enjoy myself as much as she was. I thrust my cock through the ‘o’ gag and though I had to lie in an awkward, twisted position for her to take most of my length, I soon forgot about any discomfort I was feeling, for she was a cocksucker extraordinaire.


Later, somewhat disappointed that I hadn’t fucked her, she persuaded me, against my better judgement, to stay the night. She almost succeeded in hauling me into her bedroom, but I’d have none of it, settling for one of the guest rooms.

She arrived next morning with tea served from a silver tray and accompanied by a fresh, home-baked croissant.

“Such service,” I smiled as I tried to sort out my tousled hair. I felt pretty grubby, for she was as fresh as a breath of North Sea air, wearing a dark green dress of a soft woollen material and cut so well that her breasts were perfectly moulded within it. Her hair was neatly tied back into a bun and her make-up helped her face to glow in the early morning sunshine. I also noticed that her shoes had a much higher heel than had been the case the previous night. I knew that this perfection was all intended for me and I began to worry.

“Breakfast’s in thirty minutes – porridge, fruit, toast, preserves and coffee. Will that suit?”

“Yes, fine, just the job,” I replied, remaining firmly in bed, afraid that she might grab my manhood if I so much as gave her a glimpse of it.

She paused awkwardly, smiled, nodded and then said, “Right, then, half an hour,” before leaving the room.

I rolled out of bed and made my way to the fluffy, blindingly white towels and expensive toiletries of the attached ensuite.

Washed and shaved I arrived in the garden room where Joe leapt from his seat at the table and took my arm in a comradely sort of way, “Thanks, a million, I got away with the breakage, she even gave me a smile. How did you do it?”

“Gentle persuasion, I suppose.”

“Did you get on to the other? The… er… Bondage, spanking and things?”

“Bit early in the negotiations, old son. We don’t want to overdo it, do we?” Well, what else could I say? I could hardly tell him I’d had his wife tightly bound and partly stripped for most of the previous evening.

Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Abigail with the promised breakfast.

Just as I was pouring my second cup of coffee, Joe spoke, “Tell you what, why don’t you stay for lunch, I’m sure Abigail could stretch the beef to another serving.”

I bet she can, I thought, but said, “No, I’ve put upon you people too much already...”

Abigail said nothing, but Joe continued to pressure me until I agreed to join them for luncheon. After all, Joe would be about so I should be safe, for this was all about running our affair at a measured pace.

“I’ll give Larry a ring and put off our golf,” said Joe, beaming at both of us.

“You can’t do that, dear,” she said softly, only I could sense the passion bubbling just under the surface of her words.

“Yes I can, surely, friends around and all that...” Joe was being about as bold as he dared to be.

“Isn’t Larry your most important client?”

“Yes, of course he is, you know that.”

“Well, you put him off if you think you can afford to.”

Joe thought for a moment, glancing quickly from me to Abigail and back again, “Yes, perhaps I’d better go... You’ll be all right here with Abigail, we’ll dine late ... How about that?”

“Perfect,” agreed his wife.

I began to shake my head. Though I am of Caledonian descent I believe that only the dourest of Scotsmen (Fifers no doubt) could have come up with a game as irritating and sadistic as golf, tied to the fact that a round takes several hours, not counting the time spent at the Nineteenth. Well, within that time Abigail would have prepared and cooked dinner, allowed the wine to breathe, and had me tie her in umpteen positions, each of them ending with my cock in her cunt.

Readers might be thinking, 'What’s so bad about that – give me a go!' However, I could see where this was going: I was on course to become the light of her life, every week would pass slowly for her until she had me on her own again. Poor old Joe would be sent off to see his old mother in Burnley (or where ever), he would be encouraged to go on long business trips to Timbuktu and all points north, south, east and west. She would eventually want to be attached to me in a permanent sort of way, and I’m just not that sort of guy.

It was no good though, the clincher came when Abigail perched herself opposite me on the edge of the table and crossed her legs. As she did so her flared skirt swept back to reveal a long, long, length of alabaster white thigh above dark brown nylons.

“Yes, if you’re sure that’s all right,” I agreed.

“Of course it is, I’d trust you with the family jewels,” cried Joe tapping my shoulder in a friendly way.

A perceptive man would have recognised by now that there was something going on between his wife and myself. She was too bright, too animated, too keen; and being far, far too nice to him. But not Joe, all the signs swept by him and were not recognised as anything other than causes for celebration.

An hour later, as I read the Sunday papers, Joe left for his golf club, which was at least forty-five minutes drive away, adding further time to that which he would already be absent.

Abigail kissed him goodbye at the front door and then smiled a secret smile at me as she went through into the kitchen, where I soon heard her hard at work with the pots and pans.

About the time Joe would have been walking down to the first tee Abigail joined me in the breakfast room, she had with her the box of bondage gear.

“Where would you like me?” she asked.

“I don’t know that this is such a good idea... Joe...” I began, but stopped as Abigail dropped the box and raised her skirt to her waist.

“Don’t you want to bind me, strip me……”

“Bedroom, your four poster,” I gasped.

I followed her slowly to the first floor, my eyes fixed on her bottom as she slowly climbed the stairs step by step. Almost automatically both of my hands reached out to feel the round softness of her bum, which allowed my fingers to undulate with her as each buttock rose and fell. I could wait no longer, so I stopped her and pushed her over the banister rail. I hauled up her skirt and began to caress her pantied bottom, nyloned legs and bare thighs.

“You wouldn’t dare to spank me... Would you?”

Slaaaaapppppppp, slaaaaapppppp, slaaaaapppppp, I began at once to give her six, after which I peeled down her panties and delivered a round dozen, turning her buttocks and the tops of her thighs a very pleasant pink.

I decided to remove her panties so I began to pull them down, but she stopped me, saying, “Not yet... When I am ready.”

Once in her bedroom, I wasn’t sure where to start, there were so many options, so I merely said. “I am at your command.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Spread out on the bed is a possibility, or perhaps a hogtie.”

“Hmmmmm...” she thought about it and then commanded abruptly, “Take off all your clothes. Do it at once.”

“I thought I was in charge? “

“No, dear, I am always in command, ask anyone.”

Without further ado I did as she asked and soon stood before her, erect in more ways than one.

She stepped forward and reached for my dick, which fell easily into her hand, “I satisfied you with my mouth last evening, did I not?”

“Very much so.”

“Then you must satisfy me with yours.”

Now, I like performing cunilingus, sucking, licking, tonguing, nipping away with great enthusiasm, but I wasn’t sure I liked the way this was going.

“Certainly,” I said, “How, exactly, do you want me to perform this very pleasant service?”

“The positions are to be reversed, I shall tie you to the bed and then thrust your head between my thighs. Do you suppose that will work?”

“What if Joe returns early and I’m fastened to your bed? It should prove to be very embarrassing, should it not.”

“What if he returns and finds his wife tied to her own bed?”

“He’d probably think I’d got you prepared for his own pleasure. He'd call me 'old boy' and offer me a stiff whisky while he enjoyed you.”

“Mmmmm... I suppose he would.”

Thinking of Joe, by who’s invitation I was in my current position, I decided that there might be some mileage in it for him, should she develop the taste for domination. Five minutes later she had me spread-eagled across her bed and; as you’d expect from her, she had me well secured – I’d bet a month’s salary that she’d been in the Guides.

She climbed on to the bed and shuffled on her knees up the length of my abdomen and chest and I was soon breathing heavily with both expectation and the weight of her. Her skirt was slowly raised and I soon saw that she had not removed her panties, but before I could suggest that she should take them off, the crotch of them was thrust at my mouth. I began to work on her as best I knew how and could soon hear that my efforts were being gratefully received. When I had time to glance up I saw that she had unzipped her dress and had pulled it off her shoulders. Her tits were out of her bra and she was giving them a good pounding. I wondered if she might be thoughtful enough to give my penis some momentary release, but I was to be disappointed.

I could feel the soft fullness of her thighs and the wonderful sensation of nylon rubbing against my cheeks, I could see the button of her suspender clasp poking through the dark, dark brown of her stocking top, causing a ripple of adorable creases in the fabric. Her crotch became fluid filled and it was soon possible to push the gusset of her knickers to one side in order to go to work on her snatch. The resulting increase of volume from her set me to worrying about what the neighbours might think, I soon stopped worrying as she began to rise and fall rapidly on to my chest whilst at the same time the ropes attaching my wrists and ankles to the bedposts were beginning to chafe uncomfortably. I tried to heave myself up in an attempt to push her off, for her cunt was beginning to suffocate me. Then, thankfully, she climaxed and fell off me and over to one side.

“Hope you enjoyed that,” I asked after we’d both got our breath back.

“Yes...” her reply was deep, long and husky.

A minute or two later, beginning to feel uncomfortable with my bonds again, I asked, “Aren’t you going to release me now?”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Surely, you’re not going to keep me here all day.”

Abigail didn’t answer, but instead, from somewhere, produced about three pairs of soiled panties which she stuffed into my mouth, tying them in with two pairs of stockings. Next a pair of tights were placed over my head, the crotch piece covering my nose, and fastened in place with the leg sections.

“Mphhhh, grrrr…… ,” I tried to make my feelings known to her.

In response she took my cock and caressed it for a few dozen seconds before bringing her mouth over it, but she was cruel enough not to bring me off.

“Aghhhhh...Mppphhhh...” I cried.

“You do look sweet,” she smiled as she left the bedroom.

It was hard to keep track of the time, but I reckon she left me immobilised on her bed for well over three hours and; as it had begun to rain, Joe could be expected back at any time.

“Oh, you still here?” were here opening words when she eventually re-entered the room.

I didn’t even try to make a sound, my body ached and my mouth was dry and I was annoyed, for in all my experience of bondage I’d never once left my captive so helpless for so long. She released my wrists and then went off to leave me to free myself, which I managed after twenty minutes or so. After which I dashed to the toilet as I was bursting for a pee. I cleaned myself up and tidied away the bondage equipment before going downstairs. The dining room table was beautifully set with her best china and crystal ware on display.

“Well, you certainly took your time,” she began, “I had hoped you would help me to arrange the table.”

“Just wait to see how long it takes you to escape the next time I have you bound.”

“I don’t know that you’ll have the opportunity,” she replied rather haughtily.

Always a man of action, I took her by the waist and pushed her over one of the tall backed dining room chairs at the same time grasping the hem of her skirt and pulling it up around her waist.

“No!” Her message was clear and her tone icy.

“You deserve a good spanking for today’s work.”

“The intimacies you’ve already enjoyed with me may never be offered again. Should you carry on so...”

I let go of her. What else could I do, for I wasn’t that certain of how she would react if I ignored so clear an instruction.

She straightened to her full height and patted her skirt back into place, “Why so downcast?” she asked, seeing my expression.

“No reason, no reason at all,” I muttered.

Then the front door opened and Joe shouted, “Hello, I’m back, sorry I’m a little late, I hope dinner hasn’t spoilt.”

As the sounds of her husband’s arrival intensified, Abigail reached across towards me and kissed me full on the lips, her tongue darting sensually between them, her hand took mine and led it under her skirt to her crotch. I grabbed it for an enjoyable few seconds and then at the sound of her husband’s approaching footsteps I released her.

“Good, Oh, dinner just about out, I’m starving,” Joseph beamed at us both.

“I hope you allowed Larry to win,” commented Abigail.

“He always wins and I always lose, no matter what I do,” smiled Joe.

“You’ve a trophy, though, I saw it last night,” I said.

“It’s the runner-up award, he was sixteen and the winner was twelve,” informed Abigail.

“He was thirteen – nearly fourteen, and he’s still a good golfer,” Joe defended himself.

“Silly, meaningless game, anyway,” I put in.

That afternoon as we ate my mind was full of the revenge I’d take on Abigail Smailes. I would torture her, her nipples would be numbed with clamps, her bottom would feel the sting of cane and strap, her breasts would be bound tight with thin twine, her skin would feel the heat of candle wax, her mouth would be stuffed with as many pairs of panties as I could find and her cunt – yes, her cunt would be sore with the thrusts of vibrators, dildoes and my cock at its rock hardest.

She smiled at me and I realised that similar thoughts were already racing across her mind.

End of part 2.

Copyright © 2009 by Belisarius. I welcome your comments. Email me at