Best Bondage Erotica 2 (20 page)

Any other woman would have been foolish to make herself
comfortable in Gustav’s house. But Jenna would have been foolish not to, for as the sound of compressed air hissed at four points around her, she felt the familiar sensation of being placed expertly into bondage against her will—and yet, her will was to be placed in bondage—before she could protest. Never had she been restrained so fast—usually Gustav had savored her captivity, undressing her slowly, wrestling her feebly squirming body into position, binding her wrists and ankles to the bed or the sofa or the legs of a table with slow, methodical torment.

Now, he had no time for such games.

The arms of the divan had burst with the speed of explosive bolts. Flexible metal bands had closed around her wrists and locked into place, holding her immobile. Each leg of the divan had four similar devices—for she now saw that the divan was split down the middle, into two separate legs. She saw this from the way the metal bands around her ankles and lower thighs drove firmly into locks placed with sharp edges that ripped into the upholstery. A matching band had gone around her waist, padded, fitting her smoothly as if she’d been built for it. The last restraint had been placed at the back of the headrest, and formed a stiff collar around Jenna’s throat, holding her head in place. As she struggled, she felt fear heightening her arousal.

The divan was indeed a copy of a Chinese piece. In fact, Jenna now remembered, in a rush, having read about it in one of the tawdry paperbacks she had found moist and discarded in the trash near the waterfront. A paperback that purported to be “a serious academic study of restraint.” The name it gave this particular style of chair was too horrible for Jenna to say, even now, with her humiliation at Gustav’s hands once again imminent. But that was not because it frightened her, but because of the thunderbolt it sent through her body, electrifying her between her thighs as the brandy snifter went spinning
out of her hand and shattered on the hardwood floor.

And in any event, Gustav said it for her.

“It’s known as a rape chair,” he said with pleasure, fingering the second of three buttons underneath the arm of his chair. “Quite a handy piece to have. But I dare say you’re the first married woman who’ll have the pleasure of experiencing it.”

“Release me,” said Jenna, her breath coming short not from fear but from sudden arousal. “Please.” She had planned to toy with Gustav, to tease him, perhaps not even to sleep with him on this trip. She wanted to see him on his knees, to hear him begging for the chance to fuck her again. But now, the only begging was to be hers, and hearing the words come from her lips did nothing to dispel the heat that flared anew, now scalding, terrifying, between her slightly spread thighs.

“Please,” she said, her nipples hardening even further as she said it.

“I don’t think so,” said Gustav. “You planned this when you came over here, though I imagine there was more cajolery on my part.” Jenna reddened as she realized how well Gustav knew her. “There’ll be no cajolery this time, Jenna,” said Gustav. “It’ll be just like the old days. You spread your legs, and I fuck you.”

Gustav depressed the second button, and with the swift hum of an electric motor, the legs and arms of the divan slowly separated. The arms moved quickly, forcing her own arms up over her head in a smoothly-described arc. The legs, however, took their time, as Gustav had doubtless designed them to do—so that he could savor Jenna’s slow, torturous humiliation. Jenna struggled against the tightness of her ankle restraints, her cunt throbbing with each strained twist of her leg muscles. Her thighs, too, were forced wide by the bands, forbidding even the slightest gesture of resistance on her part. She was trapped—imprisoned. There would be no seduction, no flattery, no inveiglement. Gustav would not
attempt to get her drunk. He would not tease her about her need for him; she would not get to flirt with her ex-lover in the hopes that he would take her fiercely, as he had so many times before. There would be only a cruel fate Jenna had hungered for these past six months, with her husband’s every halfhearted thrust into her.

Jenna’s legs continued to part, forced open by the divan until the upholstery, strained to its limit, tore, revealing that the divan’s padded frame was metal underneath, and its pivot point was at the small of Jenna’s back, the padding underneath folding smoothly away so that both her sex and her ass would soon be fully exposed.

The divan’s legs bent at the point of her knees, forcing her legs up into the air and allowing them to be spread still wider. So wide were her legs, in fact, that Jenna began to feel the strain of her muscles, the grind of her hip joints—she had become decidedly less flexible in recent months, having abandoned the Eastern disciplines that Gustav had instructed her in.

Gustav toyed with the second button as Jenna’s legs were forced still wider, until the dress’s slit, placed so suggestively between her thighs, was tormented to its limit. The thin fabric ripped to her navel, revealing the shaved slit of her sex between wide-open legs. Her legs were now open so far that she could barely move, her body twisted in an agonizing posture as she fought to thwart the cruel machine.

The divan hummed to a stop, and Gustav looked disappointed.

“That’s as far as it goes,” he said, his eyes roving hungrily over Jenna’s exposed inner thighs. “I would have given it another six inches or so, but apparently the mechanical demands of the design forbid it. Luckily, I’ve more tricks up my sleeve.”

Jenna gasped as Gustav depressed the third button, and the center of the divan began to rise, forcing Jenna’s ass up high,
bending her at the waist. Her upper half was now pointed down at a slight angle as the whole device rose to a predetermined height—a height Jenna could well imagine put her sex and mouth at the level of Gustav’s cock.

Gustav stood and stroked the arm of his chair.

“Three buttons on the right,” he said with glee. “And one on the left. I can release you all at once, you see.”

“Please,” whimpered Jenna, her ruined red dress all but falling off her. “Please, Gustav, press the button. You mustn’t have me like this.” Even as she said it, she knew he would not—and she prayed that he had not changed in the six months since he’d taken her. “I’m a married woman, now.” Her cunt was pulsing with heat, hungry for his cock.

Gustav stood beside the divan, reaching between her forced-open legs. His hand slid smoothly under the tattered remains of her dress, touching her cunt. Jenna gasped at the pressure between her lips, and despite her show of resistance, found herself pressing against him. Two fingers disappeared inside her, and Jenna let out a low moan. Due to the infrequent plumbings she’d experienced since her marriage, Jenna’s entry was quite snug, and the two fingers stretched her deliciously, causing the slightest hint of discomfort as Gustav penetrated her—not unlike the pain she’d felt when first being fathomed by his unusually large cock.

“Wet as an ocean, my dear,” said Gustav, bringing his hand to her face and forcing his fingers between Jenna’s full, lipstick-reddened lips. She fought not to accept his fingers, but she found she could not close her mouth. She tasted her own tang, ripe with fresh hunger, the familiar taste—so often experienced on the freshly-withdrawn shaft of Gustav’s cock—sending a warmth through her body. Gustav withdrew his fingers and smeared her moistened lipstick over her face, making a tsking sound.

“Cocksucker red,” he sighed. “How well I remember it.
You don’t wear that shade for your husband, do you?”

“You’re horrible,” said Jenna feebly, fighting to keep her throbbing hunger from showing. She knew that if Gustav had any doubt that his treatment of her was deserved and desired, her gushing cunt had dispelled it. Nonetheless, she fought to maintain her resistance—if only because a torrent of guilt had just taken her over.

Gustav bent over and fished in the remains of the shattered brandy glass for a big enough shard. He plucked it delicately from the mass of splinters by what had been the rim, and brought the sharp fragment to the low
V
of Jenna’s plunging neckline. Jenna quivered in fear as she felt the cold glass touching her skin, the sharp end nestling between her apple-sized breasts.

“No brassiere, as usual,” said Gustav. “I’ve been appreciating the view since the moment you came in, but I believe it’s time to reacquaint myself with those lovely tits of yours.”

Jenna shivered to hear that word—she had always despised it, as she had disliked the other four-letter word Gustav used to describe her anatomy. But Gustav’s repeated use of those words had always created that shiver, and a creeping sense of dirtiness that had never failed to make her do his bidding.

Jenna felt Gustav tugging at her dress with the shard of glass. He pulled until the neckline gave way and he was able to slit the dress down the front, its smooth slice joining with the ragged one started by the forcible spreading of Jenna’s legs.

Now exposed down her front, Jenna felt the cool air of the parlor caressing her skin. Gustav reached up and with the shard of glass he made short work—almost no work, really—of the thin straps that held the dress on. Jenna moaned in despair, her cunt opening up with desire, as Gustav pulled the remains of the ruined dress out from under her, even the expensive silk giving her tender buttocks and firm shoulder blades what amounted to a rope burn. Jenna could feel the
heat at those vulnerable points, her only contact with the divan, as if the pull of the dress from underneath her was needed to remind her that, except for the chain and locket that rested around her neck—the locket now tangled in her long dark hair—she was inexorably, inescapably naked.

Having rendered his captive helpless in her nudity, Gustav came around to her head, his crotch bulging with desire as his cock tented his silk robe. “One word,” said Gustav as he reached for the sash. “I merely wish to hear you say it again, and then I’ll let you go without plumbing that sweet body of yours. You know the word, Jenna. You’ve said it many times before. Say it once, and I’ll even call you a cab.”

Jenna struggled to speak, knowing that Gustav would be true to his word. She even had the
M
out, and was attempting the sound of the
er,
when Gustav opened his robe and brought his cock to her lips.

Part of Jenna truly intended to say the word. She even vainly strove to enunciate it after her mouth had opened to accept his cock, even after she felt the tightness of her collar around her neck as she strained to push the hard shaft, salty with pre-come, deep into her mouth, finding that she was so restrained she could not even properly give him head.

But the word did not come, and the slow thrust of Gustav’s hips took care of the rest.

Jenna had not deep throated since her marriage. Lewis was a passive recipient of fellatio at best, and Jenna made a good show of being a respectable—that is to say, not too enthusiastic—fellatrix. Her throat proved tight against the thick head of Gustav’s cock, which it had not done since he had first trained her. Nonetheless, Gustav showed no mercy. He thrust his cock down Jenna’s throat and ignored her muffled whimper as her entrance was violated.

The feel of her old master’s cock sliding down her throat sent a pulse of pleasure through Jenna’s naked body that rendered
her helpless. Gustav’s hand came down between her legs as he leaned forward to fuck her, and the first touch of his fingers on her clit drove her past the point of no return.

“Ready as always, Lady Jennifer. I daresay you’ll enjoy your first orgasm since your wedding night?”

The fear of that knowledge in Gustav’s hands flooded through Jenna as she rose toward orgasm. Had he guessed it? Did he know her that well? Or was there some darker magic afoot? Had Gustav somehow plumbed her deepest thoughts and learned of her growing dissatisfaction with Lewis—her sexual needs outstripping the hunger for status and money that had led her into her marriage?

Then all was lost as Jenna’s body exploded in white heat, orgasm taking her as her throat opened wide for Gustav’s thrusting cock. “Deeper, deeper my dear,” he growled as he shoved more firmly into Jenna’s hungry body. “You’re always a better cocksucker after an orgasm or two.”

And another
was
coming—quick on the heels of her first, it took Jenna with a ferocity that made her cry out, only the stretch of her throat around Gustav’s cock muffling the howl of this second—and, as usual, more intense—orgasm.

Gustav withdrew his cock with a shudder, pulling the swollen head from between Jenna’s full lips. Jenna’s lips followed it, her neck straining against the collar as her mouth sought to recapture the prominent organ. Gustav’s long shaft hovered just out of reach, sticky with the scarlet of Lady Jennifer’s ruined lipstick.

“Please,” she whimpered, her tongue slipping, desperate, from between her quivering lips, her eyes wide, moist, and watery from the violation of her throat. It was how Gustav had always liked her eyes.

“Not yet,” said Gustav. “Not until I’ve had your poor, neglected cunt. I see you’ve kept yourself shaved for me, Lady Jennifer. What does your husband think of that?”

“Please,” gasped Jenna, her mouth working desperately to regain possession of Gustav’s cock. “Please! Please let me suck your cock, Master.”

“Tsk tsk,” said Gustav. “With language like that, one might think you were down at the docks again, where I found you.”

Jenna’s mind could not process such an accusation. Instead, she whimpered desperately, her voice a hoarse whisper, “Fuck my face.”

Gustav slapped her once, across her left cheek, bringing a sudden heat of humiliation to her. Restrained as she was, Jenna could not have gotten away from the blow even if she’d seen it coming. But she did see the second blow coming, across her right, and relished its impact as her cunt began to hunger for Gustav in earnest.

Gustav doffed his silk robe as he walked around her body, careful to avoid the shards of glass still scattered across the floor. He took his place between Jenna’s spread legs and regarded her reddened, tear-stained face as she strained to lift her head so she could watch him enter her.