by Jennifer Harrison
Author’s note: sex doesn’t stop at forty, or after kids, and neither should bondage. But, always, beware what you wish for.
I had a hangover the next morning as we ate breakfast, the kind of hangover you get from too little sleep and too much physical activity. My poor pussy, which had not seen this much action in years, was distinctly sore.
The near-death experience and shock of seeing my daughter being fucked in exactly the same way as me, was only the start of a long night. Adrian released me from the bed and, with me still dazed and groggy from being half-strangled, led me downstairs. Before I really knew what was going on, I found myself stretched out across his dining room table, tied down so tight I could hardly move a muscle. As I tried to look up to see what Adrian was up to, my world suddenly went dark as a bag of some kind was pulled over my head. I started to protest and beg him to let me go, but I found my mouth filled by a ballgag strapped in place over the bag. To add to my bewildered terror, a belt was tightened and buckled around my neck, closing the cloth bag and restricting my airway again.
For several minutes, I heard and felt nothing. Then I felt the most intense vibrations being forced into my pussy from some kind of hand-held device, not a dildo-style vibrator. They were so strong, and the device was pressed against me so firmly, prising my pussy lips apart and squashing my clitoris, that I soon found myself writhing and squirming in ecstatic torment, letting out muffled cries and screams as I was forced to a climax incredibly quickly. And there was no respite, the head of the vibrator continued to be applied relentlessly to my dripping pussy until I came a second time and, eventually, a third. I was in shock as I lay there exhausted, trying to suck in enough air through the cloth covering my nostrils.
I was intensely relieved when I felt the gag and belt loosened and then removed, and the bag whipped away. My head was hanging over the edge of the table, and before my senses had fully cleared, my mouth was full of his cock, and he was forcing it into my throat. I had never given head like this before – I had kissed and sucked my husband occasionally to get him hard, but that was about all - and I was gagging and choking as he pushed his erection in as far as he could. Despite the fact that I couldn’t breathe, he took his time, sliding in and then out again, leaving me coughing and gasping down air. Too soon he was back, this time lingering at the point of deepest penetration, as I flickered at the edge of consciousness. He pulled out, and I tried to replenish the oxygen in my lungs before he leaned forward to fill me once more. It was clear he was getting sexual pleasure, not just from the feel of my throat around his shaft, but the purpling of my face and the way my eyes rolled up into my head as I suffered oxygen starvation. At last he came, which presented its own problems, with my mouth and nostrils briefly filled by his spunk, before I could cough it up or swallow it down.
The punishment continued as he released me and dragged my barely conscious body back to the bedroom and proceeded to wrap me in ropes, binding my arms together behind my back, then against my body so that I could not move them. My breasts now received his attention, with rope encircling them, turning them into giant, blood-engorged balloons – they certainly weren’t sagging anymore! He produced a new gag, a ring gag, and strapped it into my mouth, then tightened the leather straps under my chin and over my face, which completed the head harness in which the gag was set.
He made me lie on the floor, and tied my ankles to my thighs, so that they were doubled over and I was barely able to move a muscle. Yet more ropes were now attached from a hoist above me to the top of my head harness, the rope around my chest, around my waist and to my knees, and Adrian lifted my body off the floor, until I was suspended about three feet off the ground. As I gently twisted at the end of the rope, I saw him setting the camera up again to record this masterpiece of rope bondage.
By the time he eventually released me from this painfully uncomfortable tie, he had taken the opportunity to fuck me at both ends, several times. I was almost relieved when he laid me down on the bed and tied me, spread-eagle, across it. I fell asleep with him still kissing and fondling my aching body.
It had been a night of filthy, dirty sex. I had always associated sex with love before, or at least some kind of relationship, however brief. But this had been purely hedonistic, pleasure its only purpose – his pleasure. I felt used, as well as abused. But I had to admit that, however disgusting and shameful it was, it had been the most exciting night of my rather safe, dull life.
“I had fun last night, Adrian,” I said, with some sadness, “but it must never happen again.”
“Yes, me too,” he smiled, “but why must it never happen again? That would seem such a waste.”
“You know why it mustn’t happen,” I said urgently, “I couldn’t do that to Ella!”
“It didn’t stop you last night,” he pointed out calmly.
“Yes, that was my fault,” I replied guiltily, “I gave in to my base desires. But never again. And I need you to give me that tape you made last night.” This time he actually laughed.
“Oh, Julia, I couldn’t possibly give up your DVD, it has taken pride of place in my collection, alongside Ella’s – you’re my first ever mother-daughter set!”
“Aren’t you listening to me?” I asked, becoming exasperated, as well as a little worried by his attitude – why would he not understand?
“I am, but I think I’ve heard enough. Now you listen to me.” He was no longer smiling, and I was scared by the cold look on his face.
“If you don’t want me to send a copy of that disc to your lovely daughter, you will do what I say. Do you understand?” I was shocked – this was blackmail!
“Please!” I pleaded, regretting my earlier tone, “I’ll play your tie-up games, you don’t need to threaten me, just please, say you won’t tell Ella about this?”
“I like to hear you begging, Julia, but it would seem so much more sincere if you were naked and on your knees.”
“Adrian, please don’t do this!” I urged, bitterly ruing my stupidity last night in letting my lust and desperation get the better of me. I could feel tears coming to my eyes – this wasn’t fair! Why couldn’t I have consequence-free sex, like a man? And then I answered my own question – there are always going to be consequences when you choose to have sex with your daughter’s boyfriend. Adrian was merely delivering the punishment for my stupidity and wantonness rather more swiftly than I expected. I looked at him and saw that the confident smile was back, although his eyes were cold and unyielding.
“It would also amuse me if you address me as ‘Sir’ from now on – it reflects the balance of our relationship more accurately, don’t you think?”
I felt sick, knowing I had been well and truly fucked, in every way. My shoulders sagged, as I admitted defeat and stripped out of my clothes.
“Please, Sir,” I murmured as I knelt on the tiles before him, “How may I serve you?” Disturbingly, I felt a thrill run through my body as I said these words.
The next three hours were not fun. I was too sore and too dry to enjoy the sex – vaginal dryness, not something you read about in porn too often – and when he tied my arms, my shoulders screamed, and when he tied my legs, I got a cramp in my calf. My breasts ached from being bound so tightly the night before, and my jaw sent shooting pains through me when it was stretched apart by one of his many gags.
At last, he dismissed me from his presence, ‘generously’ giving me the price of a taxi and packing me off with barely a word of farewell. As I rode home, I felt dirty – both physically, as he hadn’t allowed me to shower, so I stank of sex, and morally. I had betrayed my own daughter, and for what – a night of grubby sex with a pervert who treated me like a common prostitute? Hardly the loving relationship I had dreamed about!
As I tried to get the stench of sex and shame off my body in the shower, I realised that Adrian, whilst being a bondage fetishist, was really a control freak. That’s why my offer to ‘play his games’ had been rejected. He didn’t want my co-operation, he wanted my obedience, my submission. I wasn’t to be a partner, I was a to be a victim, the more unwilling the better. He fed off my fear more than my arousal, hence all the choking. I wondered if he would be concerned if I died when he was strangling me, or would it be the ultimate rush. The thought of finding out scared me more than anything.
“Mum, what the fuck?” I jumped, having been entirely taken by surprise that Ella was not only back, but in the bathroom as I got out of the shower and reached for my towel. I followed her gaze and realised she was staring at my groin.
“When did you start shaving down there?” I could hear the surprise, disgust, and suspicion in her voice.
“Oh! Er… I saw an article in Cosmopolitan which said men prefer women that way these days.” She snorted in derision.
“You’ve got bigger problems in finding a man than a hairy snatch!” she sneered. If only you knew, I thought bitterly, if only you knew.
- o O o –
I really tried to put that whole weird adventure out of my mind. I worked as an administrator in a secondary school (11 to 18 year old), which kept me busy from 8 AM to 3 PM, but after that I found myself remembering, and fantasising about those 18 or so hours when I had been, basically, treated as a sex object, not as a woman with feelings, or even her own desires – he didn’t care what I wanted. What I couldn’t come to terms with was how those memories aroused me. I didn’t enjoy being treated like a piece of worthless meat, how could I? And yet, here I was, daydreaming about it as previously I would have imagined myself being romanced by Robert Redford (in his gorgeous heyday, of course – I can be ageist too!).
The telephone interrupted my daydreams. “Hello, Ambleside School.”
“Julia Henderson, please.”
“Julia? Hi, it’s Adrian. How are you this fine morning?” Immediately, my heart was pounding, and I glanced around furtively to make sure no-one could overhear me.
“I’m fine… Sir. Why are you calling me here?”
“I thought you might like to meet at lunch. What time do you have a break?”
“Er… one o’clock, Sir. But I –”
“I’ll see you outside the school gates at one, then.” The line went dead.
- o O o –
I can see his car just outside the gates. I can also see the playground full of kids, and the teachers on duty, all of whom would be potential witnesses to me getting into the expensive BMW, which stands out like a sore thumb in this relatively poor neighbourhood.
I try not to look as nervous as I feel as I walk towards the black car with its tinted windows. A quick glance back, then I open the door and get in as quickly as I can, breathing out a huge breath I’ve been holding, and trying to calm my heart rate.
“Hello, Julia.” The irritating smile and calm manner are both there.
“Hello, Sir,” I say – maybe if I’m ‘respectful’, he’ll be okay. Fuck, even I don’t believe that!
“Turn towards the window and put your arms behind your back.” No small talk, no preliminaries, just straight to it, and I feel the handcuffs tighten around my wrists. Oh God, I think as I shuffle back around to face him, where is he going to take me, and what is he going to make me do?
It turns out he isn’t taking me anywhere, he just unzips his trousers, takes out his semi-erect cock, and pulls my head into his lap. Great! Here we are, parked in a residential street outside my school, and I have to blow him! Well, first I have to get him hard, then he sticks it down my throat like before, making me utter the most awful gagging noises as I fight to not throw up on him. He’s gripping me tightly by the hair, pulling me up and pushing me down, once more in total control. When he cums, I desperately try to swallow every drop of his ejaculation – if it goes on his suit, I know he’ll be angry, and I don’t want to find out what my punishment would be.
I struggle back into my seat, he releases the cuffs, and I get out, without a word being spoken. As I walk back into school, I hear the car start up and move away, and I look at my watch. It’s taken just ten minutes for him to make me feel like the cheapest of cheap hookers. What a total bastard!
- o O o –
“Hello, Ambleside School?” It was 2.55 on Friday afternoon.
“Julia Henderson, please.” I felt my heart rate increase
“Please hold.” I felt physically sick.
“Julia? Hi, it’s Adrian. Do you have a nice, floaty summer dress?”
“Good, wear it tomorrow, with a pair of flat shoes, and meet me by the bridge in your village at 5 AM.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” I was grateful that at least he wasn’t coming to the school again. The line had already gone dead.
“Who are you talking to?” I looked around, startled, to see Diane, my co-worker, with a very confused expression on her face.
“Oh! Er… it was… my father! He’s very strict, very old school… used to spank me as a kid.”
She looked very doubtful – I could see she didn’t believe a word of it, but I had bigger problems to deal with than her!
- o O o –
I’m standing by a bridge, in the rain, at 5 in the morning, dressed in nothing but a thin, flower-print dress and court shoes. I’m cold, wet, tired, and very nervous about what’s about to happen.
Adrian’s car pulls up and he gets out. He’s wearing a thick wax jacket and a hat to keep off the rain. I’m soaked, my hair is plastered to my head and my dress is plastered to my body.
He leads me down to the side of the river, then turns to face me.
“Take off the dress and shoes.”
I know there’s no point in arguing, so I slip off my shoes, pull the dress up over my head, and hand them to him, leaving me naked and shivering. He puts the shoes in the pockets of his jacket, and then I watch, open-mouthed, as he balls the dress up and pitches it right into the middle of the river and it floats downstream and out of sight. What the FUCK?!
“Turn around and put your arms behind your back.”
I don’t believe this is happening! I feel the cuffs click shut on my wrists, then rope pulling my elbows closer than they ought to go. I feel tears in my eyes, then a gag being forced into my mouth, a bit gag this time, buckled good and tight. The tears are rolling down my cheeks, mixing with the raindrops. Why is he doing this to me?
“You’re going to walk up the river until you get to the pub. I’ll be waiting to pick you up in the car park. Understand?” I nod my head in abject surrender.
“Good.” Suddenly, I’m going sideways, into the river backwards, hitting the surface, ducking under, scrambling to get my feet under me, standing up coughing and spluttering, water flowing past my knees.
“I’ll see you at the pub. Remember – no cheating, you stay IN the river until you get there, or you’ll be doing it all again.” With that, he goes up onto the bridge, watching me. This is sick! Feeling cold, wet, miserable and scared out of my mind, I start wading upstream, under the bridge, under his watchful gaze. The water is around me knees, then around my pussy, then my waist, before shallowing out again. It’s two fucking miles to the pub! Why is he making me do this, when he isn’t even watching me do it? There’s nothing sexual about this, he’s just doing this to make me suffer, because he can. I suppose that gives him a hard-on, just knowing I’m freezing my tits off and panicking that some farmer will be up and about at this ungodly hour and see me.
I come around a corner and there’s a weir – a fucking weir! The banks are high here, so I couldn’t get out even if I dared – I wouldn’t put it past this sick sadist to be following me on the bank, just to catch me out. The water gets deeper as I approach the tiers of water, it’s up to my waist, then it’s whirling around my breasts – fuck it’s cold! I can’t afford a miss-step now, as I approach the rocks down which the water is flowing fast. I step up and scramble on my knees, feeling the icy water rushing up between my spread thighs. I slip, screaming as I fall and sit down on the rock, the water now splashing around me and up into my face.
I get up, make it to the top, and soldier on. It’s boring, terrifying, freezing, miserable. I think of other things to try and distract myself, but I can’t get my mind off him, and me, and this. I wonder if he does this sort of thing with all his women – I guess not, they’d never put up with it, would they? I hope to God he never makes Ella do anything like this. No, this is just for me, because he’s blackmailing me, so he can make me do anything, I’m his puppet. I’m doing this because I’m being blackmailed, aren’t I? I couldn’t possibly get any thrill from it, could I? No, no…
I see the pub. I scramble out of the river and up the muddy bank. I make it to the car, where he’s waiting. The car boot is open.
My head drops – I thought it was over, that he’d release me, let me go home for a hot shower. But no, I have to awkwardly get into the boot, and lie down. He slams the boot and drives off. What nightmare am I going to now?
- o O o –
I spent the rest of the day at his house, cooking and cleaning, in preparation for a dinner party he was having. This was like my little fantasy a few weeks ago – he put me in manacles and left the bit gag in place – except this wasn’t a fantasy, it was real. I was being used as free labour, with no option but to do as I was told, which I think qualifies as slavery.
I assumed I would be sent home, or hidden away, before the guests arrived, but instead he told me I would be serving drinks, canapés and the dinner itself, and he handed me my shoes and a plain black dress. This was not the LBD, and thankfully it wasn’t a cartoon maid’s outfit, it was just plain, cheap and thin, and looked fairly awful on me. There was no underwear, and my breasts looked pretty bad unsupported, but there was no point in complaining.
My greatest fear was that I might know some of the dinner guests, but luckily that didn’t happen. I acted the perfect servant, and served them in silence and with deference. There was absolutely nothing sexual about any of this, nobody tried anything – it was just another way he could exploit our ‘relationship’ to his advantage, and control and humiliate me at the same time.
When I had served them coffee and brandy, I retired to the kitchen, my work finally done, and wondered what would happen next – would I now be tied up again, and forced into some disgusting sex act?
“Thank you, Julia, you have done a good job tonight,” Adrian said when he came into the kitchen, “you may go home now.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, swallowing any pride I might have left, “should I phone for a taxi?”
“No,” he replied, heading back to his guests, “it’s a nice night, you can walk.”
I was rather stunned – it was five miles to my house! But it was clear there was nothing more to be said, so I let myself out and started walking. The earlier rain had cleared away and it was a starry night, but it was cold, and I was shivering as I walked home. It was well after midnight when I finally got in, and I went wearily up to bed. It had been a long, tiring day, and I had hardly eaten, but I was ready for sleep more than food.
“Where the fuck have you been all day? And why are you wearing that horrible dress?”
I couldn’t believe this swapping of roles again – it seemed I was the naughty teenager sneaking in late, and my daughter was the disapproving parent!
“I’ve started a part time job as a waitress,” I said, not really caring if she believed me or not. I pushed past her and went into my bedroom, collapsing on the bed. I was asleep in minutes.
- o O o –
I was disappointed when it became clear that Ella was not going to follow her usual dating pattern and quickly break up with Adrian. This was the only way out of this abusive relationship I could see that did not involve her finding out about me and him. I had hoped he would get bored of her, or me, or both of us, but there was no sign of this happening.
I had to give him a lunchtime blowjob on Tuesday and Thursday the next week and my feelings of humiliation and worthlessness grew – he was definitely getting into my head, making me think this kind of treatment was all I deserved.
“Ooh, who’s the new boyfriend with the flash car?” Diane asked as soon as I sat down, startling me, and making my heart race.
“Er… he’s just a friend,” I said lamely, unable to think of a good story.
“Okay, I get it – your secret’s safe with me,” she said conspiratorially. I looked at her doubtfully – past experience told me it would be all over the staffroom by the end of the day. Just another humiliation for me.
- o O o –
I wake up to noises downstairs. Oh no, it’s Ella and Adrian! I don’t get up this time, I burrow down under the duvet, trying to shut out the noise, hoping it will just go away. Fifteen, twenty minutes go by, and I can hear Ella moaning and crying out downstairs, not gagged this time, maybe that’s just to torment me. Suddenly, the bedroom door opens and he’s in my room!
“What’s going on?” I ask in alarm, as I sit up, pulling the duvet up to my neck.
“Shut up and lie on your stomach,” he hisses, striding across the room towards me.
“Please, Sir!” I whisper desperately, “Please don’t –” I’m cut short by a hard slap across the face, and a few minutes later I am helpless, wrists tied behind my back, elbows bound close together, a ballgag strapped into my mouth. I’m terrified now – Ella’s downstairs, what the hell is he doing with me?
Things get even worse when he puts his trademark noose around my neck and yanks it tight. He drags me off the bed by the rope, then downstairs. I’m trying to resist, to hold back, but every time he just tugs the rope and it gets a little tighter, and I can feel my face reddening as the noose restricts my oxygen supply.
As he forces me into the living room, I’m confronted by the sight of Ella’s naked body stretched out, wrists tied to the curtain rail above her head, and a spreader bar keeping her legs wide apart. She’s moaning, obviously being stimulated, and when I see the rope tied between her legs, disappearing between her bare pussy lips, I guess it must be holding a vibrator inside her, which is bringing her off. But the most significant thing I see is that she is blindfolded, a cloth tied across her eyes, and she can’t see me, thank God!
“How’s it going, Ella?” Adrian asks, as he is forcing me to kneel on the floor and lie across the coffee table in front of my daughter.
“Oh, God!” she moans, “Please fuck me, Sir, this thing is driving me mad!” I am stunned that she calls him ‘Sir’, just like me – has he been abusing her in the same way? I don’t think I could stand that!
“All in good time, my dear, all in good time,” As he’s saying this, he’s tying the rope around my neck to the table, so I can’t get up, then he goes behind me and ties ropes from my thighs just above my knees to the legs of the table, so I am spread obscenely, my pussy gaping and wet.
As I’m forced to watch, Adrian toys with Ella’s breasts, pinching her nipples until she lets out a squeal of pain and begs him to stop, then tugging on the crotch rope, bringing her moans to a new level of lust and desperation. The sick pervert keeps looking at me, as if to say ‘look at me, abusing your daughter, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it!’
He leaves her squirming, and comes over to me, getting down on his knees behind me and, with no preliminaries, rams his cock hard into me. I bite down on the ball in my mouth, stifling the cry of pain, trying to keep absolutely silent as he fucks me hard. I look up in panic at Ella, but she is making enough noise, as the vibrator does its work, to drown out my muffled whimpers. The last thing I want now is to cum, but the rough, hard fucking he is giving me is too much and I can feel my arousal level rising quickly and uncontrollably. I manage to hold back until Ella’s noise level increases, but this means that we reach orgasm at the same time, her screaming out, me fighting to stay silent.
I sob silently at my shame, as Adrian pulls out and walks back over to Ella.
“I don’t remember giving you permission to cum, Ella.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” she says meekly, “please punish me for my disobedience.”
He looks over at me with his supercilious grin, and raises his eyebrows.
“Hmm,” he says, seemingly contemplating this request, “maybe I should cane you, like a naughty schoolgirl, or whip you, like a disobedient slave.”
Ella looks surprised and nervous at these suggestions (I recognise the slight drop of the jaw, the chewing of the lip), and I guess she’s never experienced either before. I shake my head, looking pleadingly at him, desperately hoping he won’t carry out these threats and mark my daughter’s perfect, smooth, unblemished skin.
“Or maybe I’ll be lenient this time. I’m sure I can find some other outlet for my disappointment?” He’s looking directly at me as he says this, and the implication is clear. I nod my head, accepting the punishment for my daughter’s misdemeanours. He smiles at me, happy that he’s found another way to debase me.
He releases Ella from the rail, using the rope to bind her arms behind her back, then forces her to her knees.
“In the meantime, maybe you can take care of this for me.”
He forces me to watch my daughter giving him a blow job, gagging and choking in much the same way as I had before. I feel sick as she goes a nasty shade of purple, just as I did, before he finally cums. He makes her swallow some, but then sprays it over her face and in her hair. He gives me another gloating look as he scrapes some off her and smears it across my face.
He ties her legs in a frogtie, ankle to thighs, and leaves her to roll around on the floor, still being tormented by the vibrator, while he releases me from the table and takes me back upstairs.
“I expect you to come to my house tomorrow afternoon to receive Ella’s punishment,” he says, as he unties me.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
I cry myself to sleep, wondering what is to become of me and my daughter.
End of part 2
Copyright© 2012 by Jennifer Harrison. All rights reserved.