I stepped into the room and slammed the door behind me.
Ahead of me stood the tiny room were we hid our surplus stock, and where Lia had screwed half of London.
Considering what had taken place in here, it was a spectacularly unremarkable space. The whole space was perhaps ten foot by ten foot, and painted an uninspiring shade of beige.
There wasn’t even a bed.
The carpet was filthy and ancient which meant any fucking had to done upright. Nestled against one of the walls was a vast, rectangular shelving unit, it’s four sturdy metallic legs spray painted a deep blue. It’s six shelves contained an boxes housing an assortment of dildos, floggers, gags…
... well, everything, really.
He stood in the middle of the tiny space, staring at me, still wearing that gentle smile.
“‘So,” he nervously began. “How does this…?”
“Be quiet,” I spat. The words were out of my mouth before I had the chance to stop them. But there was no regret – I’d loved the sound of them. Being mean was delicious, and my pussy throbbed in approval.
“I said, ‘shut up.’” I threw the rope to the floor. It landed with a muted ‘slap’ that made him jump.
“If you can’t keep yourself quiet, I’ll have to do it for you,” I said, lifting my right hand and showing him the the ball-gag. I was holding the ends of the straps in my closed fist, letting it dangle between us. He stared at it, transfixed.
At last, he looked at me.
“Yes, please,” he said. Hearing the breathlessness in his voice made my own breathing quicken.
Without speaking, I stepped forward. Instinctively, he retreated away from me. After a few steps his back thudded into the metal racking and he stopped, trapped. Still I bore down on him.
As I moved, I changed my grip of the gag, and now held one end of the long, leather strap in each hand. Raising my hands, I held it out in front of me, the bright, blue ball level with his mouth. But he wasn’t going to make it easy for me – his mouth was closed.
Good, I thought. A little bit of roughness was only going to make this even sweeter.
His mouth remained steadfastly closed, his eyes silently screamed defiance.
I transferred the gag to my left hand, cradling the ball in my palm. Lifting my right hand, I pinched his nostrils shut. After a few seconds, he opened his mouth, gasping for air. I rammed the ball between his lips, making him yelp. The noise sent a bolt of electricity through me, making me even more moist.
I grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head downwards, so his chin rested on my bosom. My nipples were hard, erect – not that he knew.
Not yet, anyway.
Straight away, he tried to raise his head, but I pushed it back down again, more viciously this time. I held it there, forcefully pushing down, just to make sure he got the message.
He didn’t try again.
Letting go of his hair, I returned my attention to the gag.
Grasping the ends of the straps, I wrapped them around his cheeks. We sold an array of gags - the one he was wearing had a strip of Velcro on each end. But this was no child-friendly material; once the Velcro was fastened, the gag would be held firmly in place, regardless of any attempt he made to dislodge it. Before I pushed the Velcro together, I pulled the straps tight.
His mumbled groan made me light-headed, and another wave of lust ricocheted through me.
“Stay there,” I ordered.
I walked back towards the door, towards the pile of rope.
“Now, what shall I do with these?” I asked, picking the lengths up and turning back to face him.
To be honest, it wasn’t an entirely rhetorical question - I hadn’t exactly had a plan when I grabbed them out of the box. All I’d known is that I was going to tie him up; I hadn’t considered the logistics of how.
But, seeing where he was standing, it became obvious: The vertical struts of the shelving unit behind him.
I pulled one piece of rope free and threw the remaining strands over my shoulder. Slowly, I walked back towards him, uncoiling the rope as I moved. His wide eyes darted from my face to the rope in my hands.
With each step I took, I felt my heart race even faster, and each breath I took was shorter, faster, than the last.
I stopped a meter in front of him. And, for a glorious minute, I did nothing but stare at him. His eyes were as big as headlights, and I could see a delicious mix of anticipation and fear in them.
“Left wrist. Now,” I said.
Shakily, he raised his arm. Seeing his wrist tremor sent another jolt of delirium through me. I was excited – Hell, beyond excited! – and it was an effort to keep my own hands steady. It was also going to make it difficult to bind him as well as I might have liked. I was too aroused, too excited, to perform any sophisticated tie – all he needed to be was restrained and to remain my captive.
I wrapped one end of the rope tightly around his wrist twice and tied a crude, simplistic knot. To be safe, I knotted it again. To a bondage connoisseur, my rope work may have been slipshod.
But, to my eyes, it was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. It was fantasy made real, and – at that moment – I’d never been happier or felt more alive. Every muscle within me pulsated with joyous sexual energy.
I stepped to my right, towards the shelving unit’s frame, slowly teasing out the coil of rope. Then, like a puppeteer manipulating a marionette, I harshly pulled the rope towards me.
He gave a muffled groan as his arm jerked towards me, his bound wrist inches from my greedy eyes. I wrapped the free end of the rope around the blue, steel strut, pulled it taut, and tied another crude knot.
“The other wrist,” I commanded, sliding another piece of rope off my shoulder, and sidling back in front of him.
He obeyed, lifting his arm. Once more, I hastily tied the rope around his wrist – and once more I savored his pained cry as I pulled it tight and knotted it.
Seconds later the end of this rope was affixed to the strut to his right. I pulled at the rope, testing the knot. Satisfied with its strength, I stepped back, and took in the glorious tableaux: my captive was spread-eagled, at my mercy.
My panties were sodden with lust.
Without speaking, I darted forward. My unexpected movement again summoned another nervous convulsion. Teasing him only turned on me more, if that was even possible.
“Pathetic,” I said, sniggering.
Smiling, I lifted my hands and, starting with the very top button, began to undo his shirt. His already enlarged eyes grew even bigger as I worked my way down.
My muscles were fizzing with energy; it took all my effort not to let my hands tremble as I undid each button. Slowly, his chest was revealed. To my surprise, I saw the faint definition of a six-pack; I’d thought him too slight to be so well-toned.
I unfastened the final button and pulled his shirt open. Part of me was tempted to rake a fingernail across that smooth skin of his. But, no – I was saving touching his flesh for later.
His shirt undone, my hand moved downwards. Towards his trousers.
Luckily, his wasn’t wearing a belt; I’m not sure I currently had the dexterity to handle one. I only just about managed to undo the top button on his jeans. But the zipper beneath it would present no such issues.
Holding the zip between forefinger and thumb, I slowly undid his jeans. Once unfastened, I grabbed hold of the front pockets and bent down, tugging the jeans down his legs.
Bent over, the outline of his bulbous cock was at my eye-level. As I straightened up, I reached forwards and delicately ran a fingertip up his dick.
His accompanying groan and shudder nearly pushed me over the edge.
I was eager now for the final movement.
Spurred by my impatience, any attempt at delicacy was abandoned. Without prompting, my hands moved towards his hips and, grabbing hold of the waistband of his trunks, I pulled his pants down.
His cock was free, standing proud.
A brief moment of panic halted me; was I taking this too far? I couldn’t just fuck him - if I did with out consent, wasn’t that…?
I raised my head, and looked at him. He nodded, twice: ‘yes.’ He wanted this as well. Next time, we’d have to make a list; I’d have to know his boundaries, what he was okay with, what he wasn’t.
But, for now, his consent was all I needed.
I reached into one the boxes behind his head, and pulled out a pack of condoms. The packet was already open; Lia had got there before me.
Now I knew he wanted this too, I could re-commence with the cruelty - the element that turned me on more than anything.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” I hissed, tearing the foil of the condom wrapper open. “I’m going to use you like the useless slut you are.”
I covered the tip of his cock with the rolled up condom, and, as roughly as I could without tearing the rubber, pulled it down the length of his shaft.
I wanted to go slowly, to give the impression that I was utterly in control, of both him, and myself. But, I was too fucking turned on.
With shaking fingers, I undid my own belt, unzipped my jeans, and, lacing my thumbs around the top of my knickers, pulled both them and the jeans down in one move.
I bent down, and yanked my feet out of the crumpled trousers, and took the few, short steps until he cock was in touching distance of my groin.
Being a few inches shorter than me, I knew I could insert his dick in me, and fuck him where he stood. I just needed a bit of leverage.
I placed my left leg on the bottom shelve, which stood at knee height; perfect.
I was already damp - Christ, I’d been wet from the moment I frogmarched him in here! There was no need for any foreplay.
I raised my right leg, standing on tiptoes, and - holding his dick in my right hand - lowered myself onto him.
His cock slid into me effortlessly.
For extra balance, I flung out my right hand, grabbing hold of the shelf his gagged head leant against.
I lifted myself, and rammed my body down again.
His muffled groan of approval sent a shock-wave of energy through me.
I knew I was already close - I was on the edge of climax before his dick even entered me!
I reached down, to put my fore-finger against my clit. I started rubbing myself; up and down; up and down…
The muscles in my thighs, calves, and tummy tensed…
I raised myself, and rammed down one last time.
His body jerked, and he groaned, as he came.
I closed my eyes…
For a brief second, my body hummed, and pulsed, as if electricity was building up inside of me.
Building, and building, until it reached critical mass…
I rubbed harder, pushing my finger more deeply, more firmly against my clit.
Still that ball of energy grew inside of me, invigorating every nerve, every synapse.
I wanted to do this.
My breath caught in my throat…
A giant, powerful explosion went off inside of me, radiating outwards from my pussy and all the up to my belly button, and the tops of my thighs.
All I could say was, “Fuck!”
Light-headed, I slumped, limply, against him.
My body convulsed, as the reverb of my climax rebounded around my insides. I leant against my prisoner, my body subtly vibrating, luxuriating in the after-glow of the most fulfilling orgasm of my adult life.
I had never been happier.
‘My name is Kirk, by the way,’ he told me ten minutes later.
He was fully-clothed again by this point.
‘Melissa,’ I had replied.
‘It was very nice to meet you. Would you like to…?’
‘Be here, same time, tomorrow,’ I told him. ‘We’ve got a delivery in the morning, and I want to try some… a lot… of the new stock out. On you.’
‘Yes, mistress,’ he said, smiling.
I opened the door, and, leisurely stared waking the length of the shop. Behind me, I could hear Kirk closing the door, and fall into step behind me. Just as a good slave should. I could feel the confidence, the happiness, infuse every step, every breath I took.
I unlocked the front-door, and held it open for him.
“Until tomorrow,” he said.
“Until tomorrow,” I repeated.
I watched as his pert arse made it’s way out in the London evening.
And, for the first time in my life, I felt alive.
Truly, wondrously, alive.
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