Ross drained the last of the Chablis he was drinking whilst enjoying the sight of the lights twinkling around the northern dog-leg of Windermere. He returned his wine glass to the coffee table, along side the remains of his meal -- pan-fried fillet of sea bass with dill and roast Mediterranean vegetables.
Soon his expression darkened. He knew something was wrong, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t work out the why or how of it. Delia had rang him as he had approached the M6 exit he required, to tell him that she had been delayed at the office and would see him early next morning.
On arrival at her cottage near Ambleside he noticed that a car was already parked at the front door. The vehicle wasn’t Delia’s; it was too old and not flashy enough for her, but he could find no sign of the owner.
He poured himself another wine, he didn’t want it to lose its chill and returning the bottle to the `fridge didn’t qualify as a solution in his eyes. His mind dwelled on the abandoned car. Perhaps it was Delia’s, used by her as a runabout when she stayed here, he decided at last. There was no one else in the cottage; he’d checked all the rooms -- twice!
Still in some doubt, he decided to stroll around the garden in the last of the twilight, just to check the perimeter.
Outside he could find nothing amiss. Then, in the middle of the small lawn, he turned back to face the cottage and at that moment saw the old cow byre -- he hadn’t checked in there as there wasn’t a door connecting it with the main house.
The building had only two small windows, both placed high in the wall, and there was a light to be seen.
Whoever’s car it is, is probably in there, he thought.
A few moments later Ross found the appropriate key hanging by the kitchen door. Soon thereafter he gained entry to the byre.
The room he entered was of a reasonable size, about sixteen feet by eleven. The stone walls had been painted white and the four oak posts which supported the roof beams were varnished to a glossy black.
However, what struck his immediate attention was the middle aged woman who stood against one of the pillars.
She was gagged with a silk scarf, tied bandana style around her lower face, which allowed her dark eyes to peer curiously but at the same time without fear at him. Her wrists were well roped together, above her head, but also pulled around to the back of the bondage post where they were fastened off to a conveniently placed hook. Her crisp white blouse has been opened to facilitate the tying of her breasts. These had been pulled out of her brassiere and circled both individually and together by a length of thin twine, causing them to jut out provocatively. Ross’s eyes wandered to her legs. She wore black, knee length boots and dark brown tights which glistened in the light. Her ankles were bound tightly together and strapped to the post. Moving his glance further up Ross saw that her skirt had been raised to mid thigh to enable her captor to fasten a cinched rope just above her knees.
All in all it was an interesting sight which awakened his cock to full erection. He wondered who she was. Who had tied her up? Why had she been tied up? He couldn’t help but see Delia’s hand in this somewhere.
He decided he’d better play the gentleman. In a moment he stood beside her and had pulled the gag down from her mouth.
She immediately spat out, what on closer inspection proved to be, a pair of black, lace panties. Were they hers he wondered.
"Thanks... thank-you..." the prisoner muttered hoarsely after sucking in a long lungful of air.
"Who did this to you? How long have you been bound?" Ross asked.
The woman smiled, "Who do you think?"
"Delia?"
The still tightly bound female smiled knowingly.
Ross turned to the long farmhouse kitchen table which lay to his left. On it were coils of rope, some chains, nipple clamps, candled, various dildos, vibrators and what he took to be a scalpel.
He picked up the knife and made as if to cut the woman’s bonds.
To his surprise she shook her head vehemently, "No, no, that isn’t at all what Delia wants..."
Ross was quite happy to keep this attractive woman as his prisoner, he just needed to know what the ground rules were.
"So, what does Delia want?" he enquired.
"I’m, Liz, her senior personal assistant. She has given me a code word which she will want you to pass on to her when she arrives in the morning."
"Ok, what is it?"
"You’re supposed to extract it from me"
"How?"
Ross liked the sound of this better and better, but he said nothing.
Ross picked up the black knickers and shoved them back into Liz’s mouth before readjusting her gag. He then untied her knees and ankles and thought about exploring her cunt, but decided against it. Instead, he roped her left ankle and passed the end of the rope behind the bondage post, and then he fastened it snugly around her right ankle. This done he took another length of the plentifully supplied rope and fastened one end to the centre of that with which her ankles had been bound. With a heave he hauled up the rope -- and Liz’s legs with it -- and fastened it to the same hook which anchored her wrists. Her full weight fell on to her arms and she groaned in pain through her gag. Ross ignored her discomfort, his attention being fully taken up by the sight of her bondaged, quivering tits.
Liz felt that her arms were being pulled out of their sockets and she realised at that moment that Ross intended to play rough.
Ross walked around the post, studying his prisoner from all angles. At one moment he darted forward and pushed her skirt; which was tautly stretched across her thighs, up to her waist, fully exposing her panties. Through the nylon of her pantyhose he could see that these were of white cotton with a sort of lacy filigree pattern relieving their plainness. His cock was aching for action now and he had to use his full measure of self--discipline to stop himself pulling her hose down and pushing knickers to one side and fucking her as she hung, rigid and helpless.
Liz groaned through her gag, she began to panic as she wondered how long he intended to keep her in such a stressful tie. She gulped, it could be for hours.
"Better not waste any more time, Liz, and give me the word," he said, continuing to prowl around the torture post.
Liz followed him as far she could, her eyes showing her wariness.
Ross, after some short consideration, took yet more rope, fastened it around her waist, fed it between her thighs, pushing it as far as he could into her pubic slit, which he could easily feel through her underwear, and then leading it behind the post to tie off with the wrists and ankle binds.
His prisoner now knew that she was in deep trouble; she hadn’t been led to believe that the bondage and torture inflicted upon her would be this stringent. Delia had said that Ross was unfamiliar with bondage techniques.
Ross appeared satisfied with his handiwork. He decided that he had to think about how best to continue with Delia’s little game and while he was thinking he might as well have another bottle of her excellent wine.
Half an hour later Ross’s cock was still thrusting uncomfortably against the front of his trousers. As he’d sipped wine he had come to the conclusion that Delia had set this up as a test for him. He’d have to retrieve the code word with the careful application of pain and pleasure on Liz’s body whilst not actually fucking her. A tall order, but he was the man to give it a try.
Ross emptied the remains of the bottle of a rather good Australian riesling into a glass and after collecting a few items he’d brought with him, he returned to the torture shed (as he now thought of it). Liz hadn’t gone anywhere -- surprise, surprise.
Ross removed her gag and after she’d taken a few deep breaths he brought the glass of wine to her lips and allowed her a sip or two.
Abruptly, he took the liquid away, "You’ll have to earn the rest of this fine vintage," he said, unzipping his trousers and allowing his engorged penis to emerge.
The gesture was not lost on Liz, "I’m your prisoner.... What say have I..."
Ross then removed the crotch rope before going on to release her ankles from the post.
Liz gave a huge sigh of relief and looked at Ross with what could only be described as some affection.
He then unbound her wrists and allowed her to massage them for a moment before he dragged her arms behind her and trussed them up again.
Liz was then forced to her knees before her captor, who after removing all his clothes thrust his cock towards her mouth. She took the tip, the most sensitive part of the male sex organ and began a delicate blow-job.
As she continued Ross found it very difficult not to come immediately. He thrust his member deeper and deeper into her throat at the same time managing to tweak her nipples and pull her breasts.
At last with a long groan he came and after making sure his cum had drained down her throat, he pulled his penis free.
Liz swallowed hard and collapsed at his feet, panting.
He let her lie for a moment before pulling her roughly up. As promised, he held the wine glass to her lips and allowed her to drain it.
"Don’t suppose you just want to let me have the key word now?"
Liz shook her head vehemently, "I both enjoy and need my job."
She knew that her body was just made for torture. Her breasts were large but not too large, with nipples that protruded well. Her bottom was curvaceous -- luscious it might even be said -- but not too large. Her belly swelled in a wonderfully erotic curve down to her pubic area. Her legs were shapely and long with well rounded, though perhaps slightly fleshy thighs.
Ross was thinking more or less the same thing; all in all, he felt that he was going to enjoy himself, even though he was working to a time-table.
Liz’s blow job had released much of his sexual energy, he needed a rest so he said, "Well, Liz, it’s time for re-binding and a more stringent gag."
He manhandled her to the far end of the table, turned her around and bent her forward so that her breasts were squashed on to the scrubbed planks of the table top. As she lay there panting he took two long lengths of soft cotton rope and with the first fastened the end in the crook of her left elbow. He then let the remainder hang down on to the floor. He dealt similarly with the right elbow and then ducking beneath the table he pulled the ends together. Above him he heard Liz moan as her elbows became tautly held and her wrists forced up into the small of her back. Ross spliced the two ropes together and tied the remaining ends off on to the table leg opposite to them.
Soon Ross was standing behind Liz, drinking in the sight of her, bent over the table, her wrists and elbows securely bound. Her round bottom drifted into his line of sight, the panties clearly showing through the tightly stretched nylon of her hosiery. His hands almost involuntarily reached out and began to stroke her derrière. Then he could wait no longer, he pulled off her boots (with some difficulty) and hooked his thumbs into her pantyhose band and hauled the nylon down and off the end of her toes. Her white briefs were next to go, pulled down in a second or two. Finally, he unzipped her skirt and allowed it to fall to her feet. Ross now paused for breath before he took Liz’s left ankle and securely bound it to the left leg of the table, and then he dealt in the same way with her right ankle. A few moments later ropes lashed her knees to their respective table legs. He finished by tying another long length of rope around her waist to be secured beneath the table.
"What about the gag you promised -- you might as well gag me, because I’m not going to give you the secret little word." Ross was suddenly startled by Liz’s statement as she had been so quiet since she had ceased sucking his cock.
"OK, sweetie, let’s see now..." replied Ross as he began sorting through the bondage equipment at the other end of the table. He soon found what he was looking for, a ball gag. Very quickly it filled Liz’s mouth and shortly after began to glisten with her free flowing saliva.
That done, he stood behind her again and began to massage the orbs of her backside. His probing fingers soon followed the track of her anal crack and found their way to her cunt lips. He was delighted to find that she was shaven as smooth as a billiard ball, shaven and ready to receive; in fact to suck in, his fingers. But he wasn’t having that, she was to have no relief until he was ready to give it, or she had given up her secret.
A quick sort amongst the sex enhancers found him what he was looking for, a small vibrator only as thick as a forefinger. He turned it on to its lowest setting and inserted it into Liz’s vagina from the rear. Quickly taking a length of twine he wrapped it around the protruding end of the vibrator and anchored it in place by tying it to her upper thighs.
Liz couldn’t make much in the line of sounds, but Ross could hear stifled groans of pleasure.
Ross checked that his handiwork had been well carried out and then saw that by his watch, it was time to go and see the football highlights, which would give Liz a good ninety minutes softening up.
When he eventually returned he saw that his prisoner was still exactly where he had left her. He removed the vibrator and thrust three fingers into her sex hole. It was sapping wet and ready to receive a bull elephant’s organ. She tried to swivel her hips, tried desperately to push further on to his fingers, but to no avail, and soon he removed them.
A moment or two later saw the removal of the gag. "Want a fuck now, Liz?" he questioned.
"Yeeeeesssss, please..." she groaned, her voice hoarse with desire.
"Give me the word then."
"Nooooo, please, please, fuck me... I won’t tell her..."
"The word?"
"I can’t," tears of frustration slipped from her eyes.
Ross hardened his voice, "Well, this leads to the pain option."
"What are you going to do..." her voice was strangled by her fear -- or simulated fear.
From his own bag of tricks, Ross pulled out a long plastic ruler. It was very flexible and swished nicely through the air. Without warning he brought it down hard on her bottom, leaving a red welt mark.
Liz shrieked and shrieked again and again as further blows struck home.
After the eighteenth stroke Ross asked once more for the key word. It was not forthcoming. He then beat a rapid tattoo of twelve lashes on her rump, once done he took out his cock and eased just the tip of it into her vagina.
"Ohhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhh, please, please, ohhhhhhh..." Liz begged him.
Ross merely worked his penis up an down at the very entrance to her cunt.
"Yeeeessssss, yeeeeessss..." shrieked Liz.
Not wishing to deny a lady, Ross pushed his cock further into his prisoner, but only an inch or so.
"Ohhhh, more... More..."
Then abruptly Ross removed his penis and reached for a thermos flask which he had brought from the refrigerator. He opened it and removed a mould in the shape of a very large male member. It was fortunate, he thought, that he had friends in the plastics industry. Smiling to himself he peeled back the rubber-like material and came forth with a huge, ribbed, cock made of ice. He quickly wrapped his handkerchief around its base, not wishing it to slip out of his grasp at a vital moment.
Liz, unable to see what was happening, felt uneasy, "You may as well make love to me... If you do, I’ll give you’re the word afterwa... Ghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh".
Ross hadn’t let her finish. He rammed home the crystal phallus and began to both revolve and work it in and out. He glanced downward and was sure that he could see steam escaping from Liz’s cunt.
His captive had never felt anything like it, it hurt, it stung, it felt huge, it was wonderful, it was rapturous.
"Marlborough... Marlborough..." she shouted in ecstasy.
"What?" said Ross, his face stern.
"That’s Delia’s word... Honest... Now, fuck me..."
"Marlborough," Ross repeated the word to himself. How did Delia know?
"Fucking Marlborough, now screw me you simpleton."
Ross thought of applying some more painful tortures to his victim in an effort to find out if she knew anymore, if she knew the significance of Delia’s code word, but he felt sure that she didn’t.
Almost mechanically, Ross came behind Liz and pushed his cock hard and ruthlessly into her. He did not spare her, his left hand pulled the twine that bound her breasts, his right hand slapped her bottom hard and without pause. He was not disposed to consider her pleasure, he just brought himself to climax and then pulled out, leaving her panting and spent.
After a few minutes, wearily, he completely untied Liz, and they made their way into the lounge of the cottage and flopped into armchairs, totally exhausted.
Ross gave thought to the arrival of Delia. One way or another, he decided, at some time tomorrow he would have Delia at his mercy and he would find out exactly what she knew about his past.
He came out of his reverie as Liz handed him a hot drink and led him to her bedroom, where she teased his cock back to life with her tongue and then straddled and fucked him.
Afterwards, Ross lapsed into a deep, uncaring sleep.