Bondage Saturdays
Want to go back in time? Revisit an era when thinking about sex made you wet. Let the 'small head' do some of your thinking. It's hard to do when you have kids, jobs and social obligations. So you budget time, but spontaneity suffers because there are too many people that make demands on your time. You can send the kids off with friends or relatives and put the telephone on the answering machine, just in case. Then what? Try this.
I agree to be tied up for not more than eight hours, in return for an orgasm every ninety minutes or less. I consent to sexual congress with my master; or his designee, for not more than three times. I consent to physical, mental and sexual torture or molestation for the time period. I reserve the right to escape but may not lie or use subterfuge to obtain these ends.
Respectfully submitted _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Notice that the entire contract is quite small. It fits behind a wallet check blank. When our calenders clear, I slide one of these into her check book. I'm not naive enough to think she doesn't notice but I'm equally sure that she realizes frequent refusals aren't in her best interests either. She is trading sore muscles and maybe a bruise for the devotion of a spouse. When you factor in orgasms and her masters' undivided attention, it balances the bargain and makes for an interesting day.
Implementation of the contract is usually straightforward. Here's what happened when this evolved into a 'threesome'. The names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent 'third-party', in the hopes that a repeat adventure is possible. Liberal interpretation of the last line of the contract was the genesis of this sequence of events. I'm certain there was collusion by the women involved.
My oldest friend is fond of saying, "What good are friends if you can't use them." This was excellent implementation of a friend to my mind, plus the women seemed to enjoy themselves.
JoAnn was tied with arms folded across the small of her back, anchored to her shoulders. Breasts bound within the cords encircling her shoulders. Ankles are crossed and belted together. We had just completed our first sexual union. I was returning the wash cloth to the bathroom after cleaning us up, when the phone rang. I went to the kitchen to listen to the voice mail, in case it was something needing an immediate reply. While listening to the message I noticed our second line went busy. Upon returning to the bedroom JoAnn was pretty much where I had left her so I figured the line activity was the fax machine for JoAnn's home-based business.
I folded her legs and connected her ankles to the arm and chest bindings. Then pulled it tighter, arching her back into a hogtie. She grunted a little but no strenuous objections, so I applied a leather harness to her head and inserted the gag piece. It doesn't really silence her, just keeps her mouth open and the leather plug adds a little flavor. I tousled her hair and informed her that I was going to get some ice cubes and would return to start her next session. Eight or ten ice cubes later she has a good crop of goose-bumps across her breasts and stomach when the door bell sounds. I tell her to be good; close the bedroom door behind myself, and go to investigate who is at the front door.
"Hi Becky"
"Hi Tom."
"What can I do for you?"
"Can I talk to JoAnn?"
"She's indisposed for the next few hours. Sorry."
"I only need to see her for a minute."
"That would be embarrassing. Sorry."
"She told me. You were going to have her tied up and tortured today."
"Did she really? Why are you here instead of the police?"
"Well, she invited me."
"Did she? Exactly what are you here for?"
"JoAnn thought we could enjoy the day together."
"You've done something like this before?"
"Well, no, not exactly."
"What about your husband?"
"I told him I was going shopping."
"And if he turns up at my door to go bar hopping, what do you want me to tell him?"
"I doubt that will happen."
"It might; if I call him, like JoAnn called you."
