Invitations

Lunch

Mariah

A week had passed since her encounter with Bethany and Devon. Remembering the experience had brought Mariah to orgasm at least once a day, but she had heard not a word from either of them.

They had finished the night together -- she sleeping soundly as the middle spoon -- and lounged around in bed until hunger had compelled Devon to get up and cook. The women cuddled a bit longer, but when they all finished their nude breakfast, regular life barged in on them. Mariah had a previous commitment and ended up leaving while Bethany was only half dressed. She hadn't been able to help wondering when their next encounter might be.

Not soon enough, was her only conclusion.

After sitting home the following Friday evening, hoping to receive another unbidden invitation from Devon that didn't come, she couldn't wait any longer. She mulled it over after breakfast on Saturday, and spent a couple hours composing and word-smithing a text message to Devon before finally hitting send.

--Was last week's adventure a one-off event?--

She dropped the phone on the counter like it was on fire and walked away, busying herself with a bit of cleaning, and pretending she wasn't anxiously awaiting a response. When it didn't come after five minutes, she checked her phone to make sure she hadn't missed a reply or forgotten to actually hit send. It wouldn't have been the first time she had done that. But, no, transmission had been successful.

As she was staring at the screen, chiding her compulsiveness, words appeared in the conversation just before the notification alert beeped.

--Do you want it to be?--

She continued staring, frozen in consideration. Did she want it to be? Now she wasn't sure. It was a pleasurable experience, despite the awkwardness. Despite her initial reluctance. So, the answer must be...

--No--

Her heart raced as she hit send before she could chicken out. Her minor cleaning forgotten, she stood, leaning against the counter wondering who had turned off her air conditioner. Biting her lip, she put the phone down to stare at it without touching, as if that might absolve her of responsibility for what might come next. She hovered over the phone with palms flat on each side. Her weight shifted a couple of times, and her face flushed when she discovered her legs crossed and her thighs clinching.

--What did you like about it?--

There was no way she could honestly answer him. To do so would be too much of an admission and way too embarrassing. But then she imagined, maybe she wasn't talking to him. Maybe she was just sending anonymous text messages into the ether.

--Everything--

She couldn't believe she had typed that. "Everything." She certainly didn't like being left outside, her wrists in handcuffs. Only... she nearly came, hanging like that on his porch. And then, she certainly enjoyed taking advantage of Bethany as she lay on her bed, blindfolded, arms pinned in the steel yoke. She couldn't deny her feelings. Yes, "everything" was the correct answer. But it wasn't that simple.

--I want to know more--

--Like what?--

She idly drummed her fingers on the counter as she considered his question.

--Like, do you always bind your dates and leave them outside?--

Any pretense of cleaning was now gone. She waited for his reply with rapt attention.

--I can bind my women anywhere I like. If the porch or the bedroom aren't enough for you, I have a whole dungeon at my disposal--

Mariah heard the sound of air being suddenly inhaled before she realized it was her own gasp.

But then she considered his statement.

He doesn't have a dungeon,

she decided. She had been to his house more than once with their extended social group, and the basement had a library room with a pool table, and a home theater. She couldn't imagine where a dungeon might be hiding. She was so distracted by his misrepresentation that his subtle invitation didn't register.

--Where do you have a dungeon? There's no space--

--You don't believe me?--

Defiant in her disbelief, she didn't answer. A few moments later he texted again.

--Would you like to see it?--

She almost came right then.

# # #

Bethany

Bethany looked across the table at Devon and smiled. It had been a relaxing Saturday morning, so far, and they were just finishing lunch. While dishes and serving-ware still littered the kitchen table, she savored the lingering aroma of the pasta meal he had cooked.

Her serene mood was interrupted by an alert from his phone. She pouted to herself at whatever might disturb their time together. He smiled and returned to their discussion about plans for the days ahead. Several minutes later, he picked up the phone and typed a message. After that, the exchange became more frequent, and she began to sour on his distraction. She wasn't sure if her face gave her away or Devon reacted to something in the conversation, but his mood also changed.

"I think I need to get you out of the way for a little while," he said. Bethany's eyes widened, but he cut off her protest asking, "Are you ready for an adventure?"

The uncertainty invoked by the phrase thrilled her, and that was terrifying, and the terror it brought also thrilled her. But she wasn't conflicted at the prospect. Not even a little. She sat up a little straighter, finished chewing, and swallowed her last bite before whispering a throaty, "Yes."

Devon smiled. "Take off your clothes."

She knew he didn't mean go to his room and do it. He meant right here. Right now.

She stood and pushed in her chair, then pulled her night shirt over her head in one fluid motion. The rush of air and her mood brought her nipples to attention. Her house pants followed in quick succession, pooling on the floor at her feet. There she stood, naked, waiting for his next command.

"Clear the table first, then put your jammies in my room and meet me downstairs." He turned and left without looking back. It was almost disappointing that he didn't stay to ogle her, but that meant he had a plan. And she was always happy when he had a plan.

She quickly finished her tasks and padded down the stairs to the basement. Music was already playing on the stereo, setting the mood for some lengthy play. She knelt behind him as he worked at clearing out one of the bookcase sections. She waited patiently for him to notice her, as was expected. Eventually, he bid her stand and follow him to the closet on the right.

She did so patiently, spreading her legs and clasping hands to elbows behind her back as he rummaged through their toy chest. He turned to her. Blood rushed to her nether regions when she saw the bundle of purple leather straps. She knew what they were for, and eagerly held out her hands.

Carefully, Devon wrapped the leather around one wrist and buckled it into place. Then the other. Sitting on a stool, he had her put one foot at a time on his knee and repeated the process to each ankle. Standing, he hooked his finger through her day collar, the mostly decorative public sign of her submission, and towed her across the room to the sliding glass doors.

Stepping over the threshold, he pulled her into the three-season porch. Through screened windows on three sides, she could see the wooded ravine of a back yard. Above, the floor of the deck she had knelt on the previous week when Mariah had joined them. The windows were open, allowing a warm breeze and the sounds of nature to permeate the porch. Rustling leaves and the occasional bird calls fluttered in on the wind, mixing with the subtle music from the basement behind her. With the heat of the day, it was warmer here than inside, but her nipples remained hard and her skin goosed with anticipation when she saw what awaited her.

Two lengths of chain roughly six feet apart hung from ceiling to floor in the center of the room. Normally stored or hidden, they had been left in place after being used for play several days before. She also spotted a couple other items on the nearby table that made her shiver. Their relationship was getting serious. She was parking in the garage now and they didn't bother putting everything away after play. Not that she minded. It made repeat performances more convenient.

Devon positioned her between the chains. He usually connected her higher up, stretching her to elongate her torso and accentuate her breasts, but this time he attached her cuffs to the chain at a more-comfortable height. They were using suspension cuffs, made of wide straps of leather bent and folded in such a way to minimize any strain caused by putting weight on her wrists. They hugged the width of the hand and crossed the palm rather than being secured only to the wrist.

Likewise, he attached her more ordinary leather ankle cuffs to the chain in a much less straining arrangement than last time. She couldn't quite pull her feet together, nor touch her head or one hand with the other, but she was comfortable. She could probably stand there for hours, which worried her in a new way.

Retrieving them from the table, he quickly applied the last three items. A blindfold for her eyes, a large purple ball gag for her mouth, and a vibrating egg for her pussy, the last pressed home through her wetness with ease. It was already buzzing, but at such a low frequency, it would take forever to get her off. Combined with her comfortable posture, she sighed, resigned to spending the day in frustration, listening to the wind through the trees.

The control cord for the egg swung between her legs where Devon had released it, the temporary pendulum adding to the sensations within. Then he put his hand on the side of her face, and his lips graced the corners of hers mouth with a pair of kisses.

"Don't go anywhere," he said.

She attempted a muffled "Ha ha" through the gag, though it didn't sound like that. But he didn't answer. The next sound she heard was the door sliding definitively shut, cutting off what little she could hear of the music.

# # #

Mariah 2

It only took Mariah nine minutes to drive to his house, hitting all green lights on the way. She pulled into the driveway, disappointed to not see Bethany's car. It was evidence, in her mind, that he would just be showing off his toys and not actually playing with her -- she couldn't picture him having an affair -- and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Her stomach was in knots just being there. She very much wanted to experience the pleasure of the previous week, but wasn't yet sure if she was ready for what lay ahead. Still, the thought that he didn't have anything planned was a bit of a let down. Sure, it would be interesting seeing this "dungeon" he supposedly had, but....

When she arrived at the front door, she rang the bell and was rewarded, this time, with a normal doorbell tone. She examined the bay window, looking for the camera setup that had been there the previous week, but the sound of the inner door opening interrupted her inspection.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi."

He looked good, wearing a t-shirt and loose shorts -- though not loose enough to hide a bulging package. It was not unlike what he had worn the previous week.

Easy to get out of,

she thought with a smile, hoping the back lighting of the sunny day masked her blush. "No Bethany today?"

He stepped aside and allowed her to enter. "She's tied up with something right now. We might see her later."

Mariah felt a tingle in her nethers as she stepped in. She was sure she had just heard a euphemism, and vowed to watch for her friend.

The house was different in the daylight. She had visited before, but always in the company of several, and had never spent time absorbing the space. And on her last visit, her focus was laser-thin, and her attention dominated by Devon's naked body and the path to the bedroom. It was a pretty nice, modified split level house, well furnished and way too big for a bachelor.

The entry foyer connected seamlessly to the room on the right, behind the large bay window. There were no walls between the two, but under the peak of a fifteen foot vaulted ceiling stood an eight-foot wall that separated this front room from the kitchen. The dining table was back in its place, centered under a hanging light and blocking the path to the sliding glass door. This time, there was no naked Bethany kneeling on the deck beyond.

To her left, a small coat closet bordered the stairs up to the bedrooms. She unconsciously licked her lips as she recalled Devon descending, naked, his proud cock leading the way. She wondered if a climb might reveal her missing friend.

"Would you like something to drink?" said Devon, with a genial smile. "Or should we get straight to the tour?"

Tour!

her guts screamed, though her mind said

drink

. She didn't want to seem too eager. "What do you have?"

"Beer. Hard lemonade. Pop. Water. Just about anything."

She knew alcohol was a bad idea, but her heart had been racing for the past twenty minutes. Just a little something to calm her nerves would be fine, right? "A Mike's would be good."

Devon spun on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen.

She followed, but not too quickly, arriving in time to see only his butt visible, sticking out as he bent at the waist behind the refrigerator door. She pursed her lips with impure thoughts, and casually leaned against his kitchen counter. The stack of dirty cookware and dishes next to the sink got her thinking again about Bethany. Her friend's presence might be the safety blanket she needed for this adventure.

Where is she?

A psssst grabbed her attention. Devon had emerged from the fridge and handed her an open bottle. His other hand held one of his own, though it looked half empty.

"It must be hot out again," he said.

So benign. She was amused by discussing the weather in the face of why she was really here.

"Yes. Near ninety again."

"I could tell. You look a little flushed."

The rush of blood to her skin redoubled and she had to turn away lest she betray herself, even if that might come later. She stood with her back to him, looking for a distraction. Beyond the dining table, another half wall railing separated the kitchen from the large, sunken, main floor living room, its empty couch and chairs arranged toward a brick fireplace and entertainment center. But there was no Bethany there, either.

She startled when she felt his hand on her shoulder, and turned to see a sincere look on his face. "What?" she asked.

"You're here for something outside of your comfort zone. I just want to make sure you know you can trust me."

She was immediately more flustered at being revealed, even though there had been no false pretenses to hide behind. He was being direct, which turned her on. But the necessary next steps frightened her, and she hadn't yet admitted their inevitability, even to herself.

"I know," she said with a weak smile. The fact was, she did trust him. Even though she didn't know exactly what she was getting into, she knew he did, and that was somehow comforting, if not quite enough to embrace it. After another minute with her hand now clutching his on her shoulder, the awkwardness dissipated.

He met her smile with his own and said, "Shall we take the tour?"

"Yes," she croaked, then cleared her throat.

With a reassuring squeeze, Devon took his hand back and, with his beer in the other, stepped down to the living room and disappeared around a corner. The basement stairs awaited them there, she remembered. When she got to the top of the landing, he was already near the bottom, and quickly left her field of view. She paused for a moment, registering music floating up at her. It was time for another adventure. She descended the stairs with no one in sight. Only the carpeted basement floor awaited her.

Her anticipation built with the music -- just loud enough for ambiance, which she decided was better than silence. She had expected to see major remodeling since their last group movie night, but found nothing of the sort. It was all the same, including the cool subterranean air. Goose bumps rose and her nipples puckered under her thin halter top. She couldn't say for sure whether she had forgotten to expect it, or if she had planned for them to poke through.

Or maybe it wasn't the temperature at all.

She crossed her arms and took in the space, searching for signs of a hidden dungeon. In the center of the room was a structural pillar wrapped in carpet. Straight ahead from the stairs, built-in bookshelves, two-deep, complete with two rolling units, covered the entire wall. It was like a legit library, and all of the shelves were filled with books. Rather, all of the shelves had books on them. She could tell there was space for more everywhere; Devon had given himself room to expand. The two rolling sections were pushed together in the middle, revealing an old component stereo set into the wall section to the left, the source of the music.

In front of the stereo, on the other side of the pillar from her, sat a full-sized pool table. It had a vinyl or leather cover on it and a padded filler so it could be used as a large flat surface. Around to the left, another short set of stairs led down to the theater below the sunken living room. The theater was currently dark, so she assumed the dungeon was that way. She looked at Devon, who stood behind the pool table, peeking between the closed curtains of the sliding door. He turned back to her wearing a knowing smirk.

Mariah started to speak, but had to swallow first. "The dungeon is down there?" she asked, indicating the theater. She held her place, not wanting to step into the den of the beast without knowing more.

"Nope," said Devon.

She stared at him, not even trying to hide her confusion, and his smirk widened to a grin.

"It's right here," he said, spreading his arms to indicate their current room.

Mariah furrowed her brow and tipped her head slightly to one side. What he said didn't make sense. She looked around again, intentionally making a slow pirouette as she searched again for signs of a dungeon she had missed. But there was nothing. No whips or chains. No wooden bondage furniture. No cages or restraints. It was just a basement library with a pool table. Even the decorations on the walls were benign signs of Devon's various fandoms.

She finished her turn facing him, her face still scrunched in confusion.

Devon let out a little laugh. "I know, right?" he said. "Isn't it wonderfully devious?"

Those were two words she wouldn't have expected to hear together, but somehow, she knew they were correct.

"I don't see it," she said, stating the obvious.

"It's right here," he said, passing his hands over the surface of the pool table cover. "Look below the rails."

She did. It was in the shadows, but sure enough, there were tails of rope tied around the thick legs of the billiards table. She stepped closer to get a better look, keeping the table between her and Devon. Under the pockets there were also mounts onto which ropes could be tied. Mariah conjured an image. Of her self lying on the table. Naked. Arms and legs stretched to the corners. Devon running his hands over her breasts and her mound.

She shivered as she stood, unconsciously crossing her legs, and took another drink to mask her distraction. "Okay, that's one thing."

Devon moved, stepping around the stereo end of the table. "There's more. If you know where to look." He continued to the pillar so the pool table was no longer a barricade, and reached up, gripping something on the far side.

She stepped closer, moving around to look but keeping the post between them. Near the top, he had two fingers looped through an eye-bolt or a hook of some sort, it's steel glinting through his hand in the dim light.