Bound and Edged
by Cassandra Lincoln
copyright 2021
Premise: Liz had always fantasized about being shared, as long as Jack was present and supervising that her boundaries were respected.
* * *
"You may eat her out now," she heard Jack say to his friend Rod.
Liz opened her eyes and looked at the two men standing in front of her.
She was completely nude and shackled to a tall bar stool which was secured against the wall behind her. Her arms were suspended above her head, tied at the wrists with rope which was looped through a hook screwed into a wooden beam in the ceiling. Her legs were tied to the bar stool at the ankles and knees, leaving her spread open and accessible.
She felt completely immobilized and very vulnerable.
Liz stared at Jack but didn't say anything. She couldn't speak right now, she was panting too hard, trying to catch her breath.
Just moments ago, Jack was toying with her, touching and licking. Occasionally, he changed position in order to give all of her feminine parts some attention. But mostly, he kept his tongue on her pussy.
No wonder I'm out of breath, Liz thought. He's very attentive.
She longed for release. But Jack had other plans. She watched him step away from her body periodically to admire her agony. He seemed proud, almost smug at the sight of Liz twisting and writhing in her bounds.
Every once in a while, she noticed Rod's silhouette in the back corner of the room. He was busy stroking himself while he watched Jack lick and suck, that much she could tell. She knew he was patiently waiting for his turn.
She could feel her pussy leaking all over the soft leather of her bar stool at the memory of being watched.
Liz bit her lip and stared at Jack, who met her look and nodded slightly.
"You still good?" he asked her quietly.
Liz exhaled, then nodded. Yes, she was still good.
Being tied up like this didn't make her feel uncomfortable, exactly. But she wasn't comfortable, either.
It was difficult to sort out her feelings right now. She was too distracted at her lack of climax.
She had been so close. Why did he stop?
It was a rhetorical question. Liz knew why. She had asked for this, fantasized about it. She was curious, and wanted to know what it felt like to be edged and denied for a while.
She tried to sort her emotions: was she embarrassed, or humiliated? She couldn't tell which of the two emotions was worse.
It was the worse one she was feeling at the moment, which was also the desired one.
Liz hung in her bounds and waited for the men to do something. She was not in control; it was out of her hands.
She had consented to this before. To being bound, and teased, in front of an audience.