House Of Feathers Ch 04 Gulliver

This follows from the earlier stories in the series, but is intended to be read as a stand-alone work.

Thanks for reading; comments are always welcomed.

The two of us strolled hand in hand in the afternoon sun. The sound of the surf on the other side of the spit of land barely covered the calls of the birds near the villa.

We kept an eye on the ocean in case of a passing whale. Whales are good luck.

From time to time, we would briefly stroke each other's bare bodies or pause for a loving hug and a kiss before moving on. We both knew how incredibly fortunate we were. Money, rewarding careers, good health, still young and possessed of a loving and incredibly sexy partner - what wasn't to be happy about? It had been five years, but our love was still growing and we were still learning how to please each other. It was all good.

His toe flicked up a shell from the sand of the beach. He looked around, found its match and held them over my nipples. "Venus from the waves," he smiled.

"Too bad there isn't a conch around here for you," I retorted.

He stopped, let the shells fall. One hand trailed fingers between my buttocks and then caressed my bottom while the other reached up to stroke my cheek.

"I love you," he said. "I only wish I could tell you how much."

I smiled back up at him. "I didn't know what real love was before I met you, hon." I leaned in for a long, soft hug. My smile turned to a grin and, my whole body tingling from his fondling, I reached down between us and ran my forefinger slowly along the back of his scrotum. "Or good sex."

We moved on, soon coming to a shady area near the open end of our small bay. We often came here just watch clouds drift by. There were two beanbag chairs under the palms. Sometimes we spent the night there, looking at stars, talking and falling asleep holding hands. Today, I'd made other plans.

I led him by the hand over to one of them and sat him down. Such a cute butt as he turned to sit down! Men with muscular buttocks are such a turn-on.

I put my hand on the small of his back and urged him to shift a bit on the chair. Smiling, sensing something in the wind, he scooted along under my guidance.

I pushed his knees apart and knelt between them. His flaccid manhood lay against one thigh.

I'd been thinking about this for a while. There were small loops of leather all along the seams of the chairs, part of the decoration pattern, I guess. To four of them near the one end, I had an hour ago tied lengths of thin white cotton twine, little more than heavy thread. Noticing them on the sand, he reached down and examined one. One eyebrow rose.

"Leashing hamsters?" he asked.

"Only well-behaved ones."

Reaching behind the chair, I pulled out a small bag. In it, among other things, were two pair of cuffs. I looked up at him and raised one eyebrow. His eyebrows went up at this unexpected proposal, but trusting me, he nodded.

I fastened cuffs to his ankles and wrists. Reaching forward, I started twirling his penis around my forefinger.

"So here's the deal," I smiled at him, bouncing it on the tips of my fingers. "I get to do whatever I want with this funtoy here. If you break any of the strings, I win. If I make you cum without your breaking any of the strings, you win."

"What's the prize?" he asked, his eyes sparkling.

"Hadn't thought about that. Slave for a day?"

"Deal," he said, "but you know you could have had that without a bet."

"Want to skip the contest?" I asked.

He looked down at my finger, still stroking his now-thickening cock, smiled and shook his head. "No," he said. "Going to cheat for just a second, though." He put a cuffed hand on either side of my head and pulled me firmly to him for a long, hard kiss. Damn, but he was a good kisser! My pussy melted at the touch of his lips. My nipples sprang to attention.

He broke off and, grinning with anticipation, settled into the chair, extending his ankles and wrists to where the strings lay on the ground. I knelt and tied them to the cuffs. The thin cotton cords gave maybe six or eight inches of freedom at his ankles and wrists; his hands thus having enough slack to reach almost anywhere but me, each other or his groin.

A length of rope, soft but much stronger, went around his waist to fasten in back of the chair. I figured this would keep his fun-bits still as I worked on him.

This was to be a different kind of bondage, one controlled entirely by the willing victim. Even a strong tug would break the lines.

"What if you don't make me cum?" he teased.

"Like that's going to happen!" I retorted. "Tie game, I guess. We're each other's sex slaves at the same time."

"Yeah. Right."

We smiled at each other.

God, but I loved this man!

I leaned forward and kissed him hard, tongues like mating snakes. I felt his manhood grow between my breasts and felt my power rise - I was going to blow his mind today.

I pulled away and again knelt on the soft sand between his legs. Bending down, I gave a long, languid lick down the inside of one thigh, then the other.

How to begin?

His pride was still half-soft as I dusted it with talcum powder. Anyone can jerk with lube; dry takes artistry...

I grasped his scrotum with thumb and forefinger, then started to clench my other fingers one by one, pulling his balls away from his body. At the same time, I took his organ between two fingers at its base. It flopped a bit. I slowly dragged it up between two tight fingers, watching it stiffen as I neared the head. I did it again. And again.

His cock filled rapidly, jutting proudly out from his bare groin, hard and waiting. I felt my pussy grow wet just looking at it.

I held it and brought it close to my mouth. Without touching it, I breathed hotly on its underside and was rewarded with one of those magical twitches men can do. The scent of talc, mixed with the exhilarating masculine odour of my beloved man's sex, filled my nostrils and I inhaled deeply.

I poured more talc on his cock and balls. "Oops!" I smiled, "I made a mess."

Reaching for his magic Canadian eagle feather, I spent the next few minutes 'cleaning up', using the feather as a brush. His smooth shaft was easiest, but talc had collected in the wrinkles of his scrotum and that took longer. He wiggled at the repeated soft, insistent strokes. Last was his slit; holding his cock firmly, I ran the edge of the feather back and forth along its damp length like a saw. His fists clenched, but he was smiling.

"There, all better," I said and patted his rampant stiffness gently on its head, like a newborn kitten.

Dusting some more talc on my right hand, I formed an 'O' with finger and thumb-tips. Passed rapidly but ever so lightly over his cock-head, minute stimuli would build up with each stroke. I jerked my hand rapidly up and down, barely grazing his rim. His breath became rapid. His face flushed. I continued for another minute, switched tactics.

Grasping the shaft half-way up its length, I pumped him, feeling iron strength with soft skin flowing over it. I moved slowly at first, his eyes following me.

I sped up, pumping faster, then faster still. His panting was rapid now and his eyes closed. Pre-cum oozed from his slit. I stopped pumping and smeared it around and around the head with a fingertip, again stopping as he was just about to cum.

I realized I'd devised some devilish ties. Against strong straps, chains or strong ropes, he could have used his full strength while trying to cum. Had he been tied to a normal chair with my string, he could have tucked his feet behind the legs, grasped the arms with his hands and strained against those without endangering the cords. This way, essentially any strain or movement on his part would break the string and lose the bet. Under intense stimulation, he would have to focus his entire will on keeping his limbs still, leaving him less able to focus on an onrushing orgasm. I grinned - it might even catch him totally by surprise.

I got up, pulled a thermos from the bag and he gratefully accepted the chilled lemonade it held. Sugar on its way; no sleepy-time for this boy.

I ran long nails along the bottom of his shaft. It twitched. And again. And again, his breath hissing as my nail points gently raked his organ.

His scrotum, I noticed, had pulled his boys firmly up against his abdomen. Well, we could do something about that.

Returning the thermos to the bag, I took out a length of pencil-thick soft cord. Wrapping it around his cock behind his nutsack, I wove it around and between his precious pair, leaving each testicle pulled away from the other. The excess cord I wrapped around and around his sack between his body and its tender contents. With each turn, the Boys were forced further away from the base of his cock. I tucked the ends underneath and admired my work.

Both balls stood out swollen under the thin scrotal skin, wide apart and well proud of his belly. His cock was deep red and the head stuck out like a mushroom.

I picked up the lube and poured it over his swollen head. Grasping his shaft with both hands, I slowly and softly but firmly massaged the supersensitive area just under the slit with my two thumbs. His moaning became continuous and his cock kept jerking forward as if trying to fuck my hand. I let go, leaned up and kissed him deeply, receiving equal enthusiasm back. His kisses begged for release.

I grasped his manhood tightly at its base with one hand. Slowly, I dragged my clenched hand up his shaft and over his head, followed by the other hand, then the first. Still more blood pooled in his manhood. Veins stood out on both cock and forehead.

I reversed, pulling my hand tightly down over the head and slowly down the shaft, following it closely with my other hand, then the first again. I repeated it over and over, lube flowing over my fingers. It must have felt like plunging into an endless pussy.

His hands started to jerk forward, but he caught them before the thread broke. His nostrils flared.

"Fuck," he groaned.

"You wish, sweet man!" I told him. "Maybe in another hour."

"An hour!"

"Mmm hmm," I confirmed, "if you're good."

I took his shaft firmly in my right hand, placed my left palm firmly on top of the taut skin of his bulbous cock head and started to swirl it around the top, as if polishing an apple. His feet started to jerk forward, but stopped. I could see him trying to anchor his feet in the sand. His hands reached slowly for his groin, but stopped a foot apart when he felt the string.

Around and around, I polished his cock-head with excruciating slowness. His ass came an inch off the chair, then, caught by the waist rope, sagged back.

"Finish it!" he hissed.

I stopped, bit an earlobe lightly with my teeth and whispered, "Finish it yourself, stud. All you have to do is break the string. Break the string and jerk for me. I'll watch""

We'd done display performances for each other before. He knew I'd watch with fascination and enthusiasm, cheering him on with suggestions and following his lead.

He looked at me, panting. He'd never choose that, I knew. It just wasn't him. By accident, maybe, but not ever deliberately.

I had a man.

He slumped back into the chair.

"OK," I said, "Let me try something,

kallis mees."

I pulled out the bag of frozen peas again. He started to protest, but I kissed him and said, "It won't be bad, I promise."

Carefully lifting his manhood up out of the way with one hand, I cupped the frozen peas under and around his ball sack for a few seconds with the other. He hissed, but his cock grew even stiffer, harder.

"Where in hell did you learn that?" he demanded, "Hogwarts?"

"All good women are part witch, dear. Surely you know that?"

The sound of a motor became noticeable over the surf. A charter fishing boat from the nearby village slowly came into the bay. Most didn't enter, knowing the lack of trophy-size game fish inside. It moved gently along, a sunburned man and woman, clearly tourists, on the afterdeck watching their lines trailing behind the boat. I recognized a local captain at the helm. He looked disgruntled, staring straight ahead, away from his passengers.

They were only 25 metres or so away. Had they happened to look into the shade of the palms, they would have had a truly memorable show.

There were no exposure or nudity laws on this island. The Governor -

chér Michel

- was a fellow libertine.

I shifted to one side to fully expose my man's laced, swollen member and balls. I shifted my ass around so that it would be more visible from the boat and spread my legs so my pussy lips would be visible. Slowly pumping his rigid erection, I waited, looking over my shoulder. I was ready to shift into high gear with a full-on porn production the instant they noticed us -- sloppy, high-velocity blowjob, then sit on his dick and bounce for the stars. Screw our reputation; they'd have no way of proving who the central figure in the tableau was or the identity of the golden girl working his meat; by the time the boat turned around for a second look, we and the chairs would both be hidden in the trees. Improv Theatre, XXX version.

He was dead silent, holding his breath. The waist rope would prevent him from lunging off the chair and he knew better than to tell me to hide or be quiet; the moment he opened his mouth, I'd be waving and shouting to the heavens. His pulsing rod throbbed under my slippery, reciprocating fist.

I could feel pussy juices on my thighs, smell his excitement.

The boat slowly moved on by, the tourists intent on their fishing. Maybe they'd notice us from the far side of the bay, but I doubted it.

The boat gone, he suddenly breathed out and groaned again in his need.

I stood up and pressed my firm breasts into his face, one on either side. Without moving his hands or feet, he turned his head, trying to catch a nipple. Turning slightly, I pushed my left bud into his mouth.

Sensations swirled through me as he sucked and tongued my erect boob-tip. This time, it was I who moaned. I switched boobs, still stroking his throbbing cock. He loved my breasts and I loved both his excitement and what he did to them. I could generally get a solid boobgasm with enough stimulation and I was almost there now.

I reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of strong clothespins. He jerked and squirmed as I clipped them onto his nipples.

I poured more lube on his proud member. It dripped down onto his bound balls, pooling on the laces.

Reaching down, I grasped his dick like a tennis racket, thumb against his bare pubis. I pulled back along its length, turning my hand as I pulled through the oily lube. His hands again jerked forward, barely avoiding breaking the bonds. His whole body squirmed in the chair. I continued pulling and twisting the moving skin of his member while at the same time pressing up hard with stiff fingers of my other hand into the rigid flesh up behind his tied scrotum. I moved them back and forth, knowing they would be massaging his prostate inside. He moaned with pleasure.

I again fed him a breast and began rapidly pumping his cock. No stopping this time. Teeth clenched, he panted and waited for me to grant him release.

Faster.

Harder.

I leaned back as he came; the pearl necklace was his to wear today. Under my rapidly-moving hand, his spurts were strong enough to hit his own chin and copious enough to just about coat his chest. The man was a stallion.

I snapped off the clothespins as began to come and he hissed, torn between that and his ongoing climax.

He sagged, the cords still intact, slowly coming down.

With one hand, I began rapidly rubbing my own slippery pleasure bud. With the other, I began rapidly and forcefully squeezing, stroking and twisting his now supersensitive cock-head.

He bellowed. Desperate hands flew up to pull mine away from his cock, snapping the flimsy twine. My other free hand continued to work my clit and I cried out again and again as my own pleasure overwhelmed me.

"Damn!" he shuddered, holding my wrist. I was boneless in ecstasy, kept from falling only by his firm grip on my arm. He undid the waist rope and tried to stand, but fell to his knees and I dropped beside him. I could sense him unwrapping his equipment. We dozed there in each other's arms under the palms before moving slowly out of the trees and down into the sunny bay waters.

"You're amazing," he said.

"You broke the strings," I said, my hands rinsing his chest with warm, clear seawater. "You're my slave tomorrow."

"Don't be silly," he retorted. "They didn't break until

after

I came. You are

my

sex toy tomorrow.

I leaned up to silence his arguments with my lips.

"It's all good."

"Yes. Yes, it is."