Best Bondage Erotica 2014 (5 page)

“Let me guess,” she said, turning her head to give me a crooked smile as she leaned forward over the contoured top of the thing. My eyes followed her body as she settled. The curves I'd sculpted into the wood from memory of body and hands were as good as I could have hoped for. Anna's belly, chest, shoulders fit as if cradled, and her hands reached forward for the two polished grips.

She knew what she was doing, moving slowly, languidly, seductively for me. And the curve of the thing raised her ass just so...

“What was that, darling?” she asked, a wicked smile in her voice.

I had groaned without realizing it.

“Oh, that is so beautiful,” I replied, gloating and glowing at the near realization of my concept. I'd have to show her the
sketches later, but she put my drawings to shame. “Hold it right there. Just a couple more things.”

I pushed on a polished panel beside the handholds and pulled out the short coil of leather I'd stored there, unfurling a cuff that I attached to her wrist as she watched. I could see the slight shudder that went though her body as I closed the cuff because I was looking for it. Her other hand loosened on the grip, as if she was going to pull it away, before I gently caught it and placed it in another cuff from the other side. Anna's breathing quickened, as had mine. We'd played games like this before, though not quite like this.

“What are you up to, Laz?” I heard that tiny quaver in her voice. That first hint of the Anna only I know, coming to visit. My lack of answer was another hint of the Lazslo only she knows.

I moved behind her and pulled two more broad leather straps from their hiding places, fitting them simultaneously around the hollows at the back of each of her knees. I let my fingers linger on the sheer fabric covering her legs, feeling her flex them and test the bonds a second after it was too late. I knew she was pulling at the cuffs, as well. I'd made them so that there was just a little bit of play, enough to give, I'd hoped, the smallest illusion—or temptation—of freedom of motion.

“I've had enough of midlife crises, Anna. I've decided to concentrate on the now, not looking forward or back. I asked myself, what do I want right now?”

I tried to sound detached, analytic. I failed.

“And you came up with a giant violin scroll?”

I looked at her on my construction, frowning in concentration.

“Mmm. It was really the curled arm of an antique chair that inspired me, but yes, the violin works, as well.”

“And this is what you want?”

“It's part of it.”

“And are there other parts, then?”

I ran my hand up her thigh, bunching her skirt until I found the top band of her thigh-highs. My eyes followed higher to her skirted hips and upraised rear.

“Ohh, yes. Yes.”

My fingers itched. Not yet. Anna let out a sound—a cross between a sigh and a whimper—that made me salivate.

One more strap, a thin leather belt that went around her waist above her hips. Just strong and snug enough to hold her against the wood.

“Oh, Lazslo.” How I loved the way her voice changed. “It's holding me like a big hand. It feels...made for me.”

“It is.” I released the lever I'd first pulled, making another satisfying
thunk
. The curl of wood groaned and rocked forward, pulling Anna off her feet. She gasped as her footing vanished, her hands jerking for support on the handgrips, before settling into the odd rolling sensation as the device found a new balance point.

I spent a moment letting the reality of it all sink in. Anna—my own Anna now—perfectly situated on my own device. Part of it, even. The one part that had been missing. A deep breath, as Anna watched me watching her. Her sometimes-haughty expression was now much more guarded as she waited for what I was going to do next.

“You have too many clothes on, Anna,” I said. We had both used that line on each other more than once over the years. Usually it resulted in a laugh, followed by hands—one or two pairs—moving to remedy the situation. This time Anna's response was a quiet moan and a tug on the leather restraints. My device creaked under her.

Both Anna and I have learned a certain amount of foresight. Anna's skirt, sensible and conservative, was buttoned at the side, and she'd taken the care to leave it one button past nominal modesty. It was an easy thing to undo the rest of them, unwrap her and slide the opened fabric from under her, revealing lace-edged thigh-highs and plain, if pretty, panties. As I removed her shoes—there's only so much kicking one can do if bound at the knee—the rounded base of the device creaked and rocked with Anna's movements. Anna tensed under my fingers as she rocked back farther than she expected.

“Jesus, Lazslo, this thing isn't going to flip backward and crush me to death, is it?” The edge to Anna's voice was almost pissed off. Either she truly lacked confidence in my carpentry skills, or the disequilibrium was having a real effect.

“I don't think so, Anna,” I replied, unreassuringly. In truth, I had no doubts at all, but I enjoyed Anna off balance. I chuckled at the thought, because I knew the sentiment was mutual. We've played with each other a long time, after all.

I took hold of the side of the wooden arm that extended under the handgrips and heaved up, as if really trying to flip the device. Anna's face betrayed a momentary shock as she cursed and grabbed the grips. Her heels barely touched the floor before I let up my effort, and she rocked back and forth for a while.

“No, I don't think so.”

“Laz—” She did sound pissed now. I
had
scared her, just a little.

“Don't worry, Anna, I promise you're safe—from this, anyway.”

Anna just looked at me, starting to go quiet, shadowed. Beautiful.

There are limits to foresight; Anna's shirt, bra and panties all presented removal problems. I could have slipped her top off
by releasing one arm at a time. She might even have acquiesced, though likely not after my rocking tease. Besides, this wasn't about asking cooperation. Not after that last strap was secure. Fortunately, my workshop held a fair number of useful tools, and Anna had changes of clothes in her overnight bag.

I pulled my ridiculously large-for-the-task leather cutting shears off the wall. The first slide of the blade bottom against the skin of her back resulted in a sharp intake of breath, with a “Lazslo!” as the shears took their first bite of shirt and bra strap together. I methodically, silently, cut her top into enough ribbons to slide out from between her skin and the polished wood; she said nothing else as I did it. There really is something about destroying clothing. For a moment I paused, entertaining the idea of getting her bag and cutting up everything else she'd brought, right in front of her. I imagined Anna was thinking along the same lines when her body shivered under the half-closed blade.

With the shreds of her top littering my floor, I turned to her panties. One snip by each thigh and an easy pull. Smooth cotton, new; wet in the crotch. I decided to leave the stockings. They were, we both knew, one of my many personal weaknesses.

“That's much better.” I said, watching Anna breathe, not quite panting yet. I walked around to where she could turn her head to see me as I undressed. I didn't make a show of it, but I did watch her eyes follow the revelation of my skin. My cock, hard since she first stretched out on my device, sprang free from my boxers in an almost comical manner, but neither of us was laughing now. “Much better,” I repeated. Anna's eyes flashed dark as she licked her lips. A small bead of perspiration graced her temple.

I stepped over to the utility sink and filled a clean glass with water, taking a sip myself before coming over to offer it to her.
She shook her head, declining. I shrugged and set the glass on one of the worktables, then came back to beautiful Anna bent over the thing I'd made for her. I grasped the main lever once again and rocked her gently back and forth.

“The rocker can go both ways,” I said, using my best pedantic voice. “I can let you back down onto your feet, or I can go the other way.” Dark wood creaked as I demonstrated.

“How...convenient.” Anna's hands gripped hard as I moved her. Her quip lost its sarcastic bite in the huskiness of her voice.

“Oh, it's not mere convenience, Anna. It's art. I mean, look at you. You're stunning.” I paused to take in her whole length appreciatively before bending to whisper in her ear. “Did you know I made the straps just strong enough to hold you? There's even the chance I miscalculated and you could break free if you really tried.”

I stepped back and continued. “Art and design, form and function. Really just this one lever can move the entire thing with a little effort, raising you right up to my mouth, so I can give you a good kiss without having to bend over.”

I pushed the lever, holding its stop, ratcheting the big internal wooden gears loudly as Anna's rear end raised higher and higher. Her hands almost reached the floor as the wooden curve rolled under her. Each bump of the gears was designed to jar the solid structure, and I felt it do so through my free hand, just below Anna's side.

“Jesus, Laz. You're just e-evil.” I believed from her voice that she felt and heard everything as I'd intended it. It thrilled me, and made my cock twitch in anticipation.

“Now I can give you all the preparation you need easily,” I said, stepping back behind her. God, it was perfect. Anna's ass was right up in the air, her parted legs revealing her pink, swollen cunt at exactly my mouth level. I leaned in just a little
bit to inhale her spicy sweetness, and was unable to stop until my lips pressed against her and my tongue was diving. We groaned together as I feasted like a man who hadn't eaten proper food in months. In a way, I hadn't. It took minutes before I could pull myself away, minutes in which Anna's cunt flooded against my tongue, and her muscles twitched and clutched at me when I stuck it as deep in her as I could. Her gasps and coos were hypnotic enough that I could have continued hours just listening to them. But I had other plans.

“Not”—I was close to panting now, too, pulling my head from between her thighs—“that you really needed any extra lubrication there, dear Anna, but this way I can get your ass ready, too.” A single squeeze of the release handle and the whole device clunked back one loud step, presenting Anna's tight little pucker to me. Anna made a squeaking sound at the sudden jerk, and then another as I reverently placed each of my hands on her soft cheeks and pulled them apart, to allow my tongue to delve and dig once again against this more resistant opening. Anna's sounds were different, too, more distressed at first, then more base and guttural. I felt the rumbling of two awakening beasts now, hers as well as mine.

I loved the way she squirmed each time I forced my tongue into her, but my saliva wasn't going to be enough, if it came down to it. I pulled away and opened another little panel set flush in the smooth-faced wood between her legs. Hidden within was a container of lubricant—practical, if mundane. All Anna could know of what I was doing was what the vibrations and clicking of the opening and closing of the panel told her, until I spread her cheeks again and added a cool, generous dollop of the stuff right where it needed to be.

“Lazslo... What—what do you have planned?”

I could hear her trying to collect herself, instinctively trying
to reassert control over herself and the situation. We were both given to that, and both of us, sometimes, needed to be broken of it.

“I'm not sure yet, Anna,” I lied, and she knew it.

I wiggled my index finger past her clenching sphincter, pushing the lube up her clutching back passage as a moan pushed from her lips.

“We're going to play a game. The game of ‘Which Hole?'”

“Wh—?” Before she could fully respond, I released the lever, and let the groaning, clacking device roll her back down. Whatever the question on her lips had been died as she lowered back into place, and turned into a sharp inhalation as her descending cunt met my upturned cockhead.

“Which hole, Anna?” I asked, taking hold of the main lever and rocking her back just a little farther, the head of my cock slipping up from her split labia to kiss up against her anus.

“Which hole should I fuck? Which should I come in?” I pushed the lever, sliding my cock back to nudge her cunt open just the tiniest bit.

“You're not...”

“No, not today, my pet. This game is high stakes.”

“Oh, Lazslo...” Reproach colored her voice, castigating me for the breach. We always used protection; except for those times Anna had been on the pill for herself or other lovers, it was a hard and fast rule. Except for that one time we swore we'd never repeat, it was a given we'd both lived with since our first time together, and I'd just broken it. And it wasn't just that. I'd tongued her rear end before, fingered her, even slid two up her backside while I went down on her, all to wonderful effect. But in all our time together, I'd only fucked her ass once, when we were both stoned nearly mad, and that had been less than satisfying for both of us. We'd always had enough other limits
to push, other boundaries of pleasure to explore, that this one always slid by.