Invitations Ch 03

With Both Feet

Mariah

Mariah put the car in park and looked at her phone again. She couldn't believe she had done it. But then, she was also surprised it had taken so long.

After the previous weekend watching Bethany's experience from behind the bookshelves, Mariah was sure she wanted to do more than watch. And she had told Devon as much, though not all at once. Through various conversations over the first half of the week, he had probed her thoughts on what she had witnessed. She had been honest; it had turned her on. She had wanted to be in Bethany's place. To feel the strain of the bonds. The frustration of the tease. The sting of the flogger.

She was ready for an adventure.

But that was Wednesday, and he had left her with a "We'll see." She was sure he didn't believe she was ready. Desperate to convince him, she had texted him not an hour ago.

How about that adventure?

She was sure he would turn her down. Tell her to wait until he called.

But to Mariah's surprise, he replied,

I'm waiting for you to arrive.

So here she was, sitting in his driveway, about to have a kinky sexual adventure for the third time in as many weeks.

She stepped out of her car.

He hadn't given her any specific instructions about what to wear. She had inferred impatience, but still took the time to change. A thin crop top covered her perky bare breasts. She wanted to tease him a little, and the shirt was loose enough that her nipples, soft or hard, would be obvious through the tented fabric. New thongy v-string panties peeked out above a pair of cotton shorts, which were belted to hang well below her navel while not quite falling off. There was enough exposure between her shirt and belt line to show off the flat stomach she was very proud of. On her feet, sandals she could easily slip on or off.

It was still light out, but after dinner. The summer evening stretched on for hours as the heat of the day bled off into night. The walk to the front door seemed an eternity for her anticipation, but ended abruptly when the reality of what she was about to do manifested in the three concrete steps that led to his front door. Each step she climbed weighed on her, but the resolve that remained upon reaching the top step made the uncertainties evaporate. She was here with purpose. With desire?

When she reached to ring the bell, a motion within made her pause. The inner door was open, so only the screen separated here from Devon as he approached. Mariah stood there dumbly watching as he pushed the door.

She wasn't sure what to do. The last barricade was gone. The open door an invitation.

He looked at her for several moments, appraising her while she struggled to meet his eyes. Second thoughts bubbled through her.

"I could re-mount the cuffs," he said, "if you're more comfortable on the front porch." The wry grin on his face made her blush. His eyes scanned the sky and neighborhood. "But it's probably too light out to have any real fun. Please come in."

Spurred by his words, Mariah stepped through the door, brushing against his body as little as she could. Walking forward a few feet, she crossed her arms protectively, second guessing her choices. It didn't

seem

like it was cold out, but her nipples begged to differ.

Devon closed first the screen, and then the inner door behind her. "So we're back to you pretending to be shy again?" There was just a hint of disappointment in his voice.

Mariah forced her arms to slide down her body and to rest at her sides. Not quite at attention, she was more conscious of her posture then than at any time she could remember. Back straight and neck tall, she bristled at his observation.

"No," she said, "I want what's coming." She hoped her words convinced him more than they did herself.

She startled, then, when Devon's arms enveloped her from behind. A hug. Gently, he squeezed, and rested his chin on her shoulder. She leaned into him, praying he couldn't feel her tremble.

"You don't have to do this," he said.

"But I want to," she said, full of confidence she realized was honest. She really did want this.

"You want to what?" he asked, testing.

"Whatever you want," she said. "I trust you to give me an enjoyable experience."

"Whatever I want?"

She hesitated, but not too long.

"Yes."

"Okay." Devon released her. He stepped around to the kitchen table where he turned one of the chairs to face her. "Take off your shirt."

Blood rushed to Mariah's face.

Already?

"If you're ready," he said, sternly, "you'll do what I tell you to do without question, and without hesitation." He paused to let the words sink in.

Mariah's posture shifted again as she straightened up in a show of resolve she wanted, but didn't feel.

"Take off your shirt," he repeated.

She looked at him, into his eyes, and found confidence and a little mirth. Exactly the things she hoped for.

She crossed her arms in front of her, grabbing the hem of her shirt, and pulled it up and over her head in one motion. The rush of air against her bare skin chilled her. How silly she had been, wanting to tease Devon with bra-less nipples against the thin fabric. Instead, with the removal of one article, she stood half naked before him. And her nipples were indeed puckered and erect. They betrayed the desire she had thought to control. Or at least manage.

The shirt was in her hands, a barrier held before her, ostensibly so she could fold it. But that action didn't take nearly long enough.

"You can set it on the stairs," said Devon with a gesture.

Mariah did, but didn't know what to do next. She clasped hands together and returned to where she had stood for the first act, her skin warming with embarrassment and anticipation. Her arms shifted, one hand sliding up the opposite forearm to clutch at her elbow.

"Arms at your sides." Devon smiled. "Don't pretend you're shy."

How dare he call her out on that! After what passed for the briefest moment of resistance, her hands dropped next to her hips. Her idle hands clenched, and her nails dug into her palms to give her strength.

They stood, looking at each other in silence for a time, which only served to stoke Mariah's anxiety.

"Are your nipples sensitive?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Do you like them played with? Caressed? Tweaked?"

Another secret.

"Yes."

He canted his head slightly to one side. "Show me."

Mariah blinked. Had he just said that? Does he want her to play with herself? The intense look in his eyes told her yes. Yes, he did.

Slowly, she drew her hands up, bent at the elbows. She shivered when a couple of fingers brushed against her bare stomach, the touch bringing unexpected pleasure. All over, her skin goosed. The small hairs of her body stood up, craving more of whatever had just happened.

She touched herself intentionally, then, dragging her fingers lightly up her front. Above her belly button and up her sternum. She had to pull her elbows back, thrusting out her chest, in order to position her hands over her breasts.

Starting with the lightest of touches, she used the pads of her smallest fingers to barely brush the very tips of her nipples.

Mariah shivered again. Her already hard nipples solidified and her areolae puckered. She inhaled sharply. Her chest expanded while her elbows pulled back even further, like her breasts longed for more touching.

She changed fingers, teasing and lightly flicking her nipples until she captured them between thumb and forefinger. She gently turned and pulled and released, and then not so gently twisted and pinched, savoring the discomfort bordering on pain she had only recently discovered. Then she did the whole thing again as the heat rose within her, this time testing a little more pain. She had heard of women who could have an orgasm through just the manipulation of their nipples. She had even watched videos of it on PornHub, untouched pussies spasming in ecstasy. But she had never come close before.

"That's enough," said Devon.

Mariah groaned in disappointment, her hands hovering in place.

"Hands at your side," he said more insistently.

She complied and opened eyes she didn't remember closing. Her dilated pupils ached at how bright the room seemed. Her breaths came quickly, now.

"Take off your shorts."

More in control of her nerves, Mariah kicked off her sandals. She undid her belt, though she left it in its loops, and unbuttoned her shorts. Shimmying one hip, and then the other, she nudged them down to where gravity took over. The small garment landed in a puddle around her feet leaving her wearing only the shear lacy v-string she had bought for the occasion. The thought of which made her blush even more.

Devon nodded again. She placed her shorts next to her shirt on the stairs, and returned to her spot, legs demurely crossed.

"Always stand with your feet at least shoulder width apart."

Mariah's mind processed the command for a moment, then her legs tensed and separated. The v-string did little to hide what was left of her privacy, and she could feel its dampness as it barely stayed in place.

"Turn around. Face the door."

She did, remembering the proper foot position. And that the thin ribbon of the v-string would be invisible clenched between her cheeks.

"Can you touch your toes?"

She glanced over a shoulder at him, questioning.

"Face the door," he ordered.

She did.

"Reach as far as you can to your toes without bending your knees."

She rolled her upper body down, folding herself in half and resting her hands around her ankles. She had been a gymnast earlier in her life, and probably could have placed her palms flat on the ground, but she wasn't warmed up. Not in that way, anyway.

"Look at me," he said, and she did. Between her legs. "Reach back and slowly slide your panties down. Keep your eyes on mine as you do this."

She hesitated. Her heart raced and she held her breath. Even though only the slightest ribbon of fabric remained, it was the last step before she was completely naked. The smallest step was also the biggest. Did she really want what was coming?

Did she even

know

what was coming?

Yes, she wanted it. Whatever it was.

She forced her arms to move. Her thumbs hooked under the thin waistband and she dragged the fragment of fabric across the skin of her posterior, peeling the thongy bit out of her cracks. Both of them. She pulled the last article down her legs to her spread knees, where it had stretched to its limit.

All the while, she watched Devon and, to her amazement, his eyes remained locked on hers. They didn't drift to the treasures she was revealing. They focused on her. Was he judging her? Watching what effect his commands were having? Watching her reactions to what she was doing to herself?

Uncertain what to do, she was stuck with her thumbs in the waistband held taught against each knee. With all the confidence she could muster, she squeaked out a question. "Now what?"

"You may place your panties with your other clothes, and then stand facing me."

She did so.

"Lace your fingers behind your head. Make sure your elbows are behind your ears. Don't slouch. Stand straight." He considered her for a moment. "Unless unable to, or you're doing something that requires the use of your hands, this is where you should keep them."

Mariah was incredibly embarrassed, putting her body on display like she was. But it also turned her on far more than she ever thought it would. It wasn't the embarrassment that turned her on, but that she was turning

him

on, for as she looked at him, now avoiding his eyes, she couldn't miss the bulge in his shorts. She thought back to the previous two encounters and unconsciously licked her lips as she thought about releasing it from its cloth prison. She looked forward to that.

"Step forward to me. No, keep your hands behind your head. Place one foot here." He patted his knee as he sat in the chair.

It was awkward, balancing on one foot with her hands behind her head and her chest thrust forward, but she managed it. The fabric of his shorts caressed the soles of her feet. Her ankle warmed from the warmth of his hand as it steadied her in place.

Devon reached into a black felt bag that she hadn't noticed before, though she suspected she knew what caused the small jingle it contained.

She was right. His hand emerged holding a three-inch wide band of leather with metal buckles and D-rings along its length. It was the same restraint Bethany had worn the previous week. Gently, he wrapped it around her leg just above the ankle, using both hands to secure it in place. Not too tight, but it certainly wouldn't be slipping off.

"Switch."

With a wobble, she replaced one foot on his knee with the other. She noticed the weight of the cuff when her foot hit the floor, and wondered if it looked as good against her skin as it had on Bethany.

"Kneel," said Devon after the second cuff was on.

She did, managing to keep her balance without pulling her hands out of place.

"Give me one hand."

He produced, not another normal cuff, but one of those like Bethany had worn. The ones that wrapped her wrists comfortably while they were locked over her head. Suspension cuffs, she thought they were called, and the sight of Devon wrapping it around her wrists sent a shiver up her arm.

And a tingle to her groin.

Was that what was in store for her? Dangling on chains like Bethany had? Mariah realized she hoped so.

After the second wrist was likewise adorned, Devon pulled her hands together behind her lower back. Something clicked that she couldn't see, and he stepped away. Mariah tested. She could not pull her cuffed hands apart. He had clipped them together.

When she returned her attention to Devon, he again sat in the chair directly in front of her, his kind eyes looking down on her, but with a hint of something more. Something perhaps... sinister.

Motion made her notice what he held in his hands between them. A blindfold. He turned it over, proffering it almost like a question. She looked up at him, perceiving his request for permission, and nodded.

The next thing she knew, the wide leather band hugged her head, and the furry padding pressed gently against her eyes. She was now blind. The world had changed.

Her

world was gone, replaced by darkness, only the sounds of rustling fabric and touch of air moving against her skin giving her a clue that he was still in front of her. She inhaled then, taking in his musky scent mixed with her own fear and the leather of the mask.

It was as she contemplated her fifth sense that she felt him at her lips. She hadn't even heard him remove his pants, but here he was offering his manhood too her, so soon in the session. She had expected there to be more play before he took it this far. But maybe he couldn't wait. Maybe the sight of her so eagerly waiting on her knees for him was too much. Maybe he wanted a sample, to test her skills before going any further.

She opened her mouth to take him in.

But as the round head, much more massive and firm than she had expected, pushed past her lips, the taste was not of salt and flesh, but of something else. Rubber? Silicon? Realization struck that the object in her mouth was not his cock, but a spherical gag that was lodged behind her teeth, holding her mouth open while blocking it at the same time. She almost shook her head, but his hands held her in place while buckling the strap behind her head. The place her fingers had been laced only minutes before.

The intruder shocked her, more than the cock would have, and

that

would have been a surprise. It wasn't exactly hard, but biting down showed only the slightest give in the material. The taste was clean, almost antiseptic, and it prevented her from articulating her thoughts. She could still make noise, and she could still signal her desire to abort. But she didn't want to. The quiver in her belly told her she would be disappointed if she didn't see this through.

"Are you okay?" asked Devon, sincerity in his voice.

"Mmph," she tried to say. Then she nodded. She was okay. She was just so very horny, and didn't know what that meant.

"Stand."

She did, and he took her by one arm and led her across the dining area, down the half flight to the living room, and around the corner to the stairs to the basement.

She heard a noise.

The stereo was on, but it wasn't music playing, this time. Or, not only music. The soundtrack was somehow cheaper than last time. More like the score for a low budget movie than actual music. And mixed in with the synth and guitar, Mariah could hear something like voices, only they weren't saying anything. As she descended the stairs, under Devon's guidance, she heard the inarticulate grunts of pleasure.

Is someone down there?

thought Mariah, a shot of fear at being seen, at interrupting someone else, coursed through her. She realized then, with a new wave of embarrassment, she could hear what sounded like the soundtrack from a porno emanating from Devon's basement.

Her feet found the carpeted floor at the bottom, and Devon led her forward another few feet, where he hissed into her ear, "Stay."

She did.

From behind, he reached his arms around her, hugging her. He pressed his body against her back, trapping her cuffed hands between her butt and his crotch. She felt his stiffness there, but was unable to do anything. Her hands were partially encased in the leather, and the angle was wrong. All she could do was imagine his member rubbing against her.

He released his embrace and traced his hands and fingers from her belly to her ribs to her shoulders and eventually down her forearms. His touch left her skin as he manipulated only the bindings, and unclipped her cuffs from each other, then guided one down to her side, where she let it hang.

The other, he lifted, raised it out to her side. Pulled on it, stretching her reach at a steep angle toward the ceiling. A chain rattled and a clip snapped. His hands left her there, and she found her cuff chained to the ceiling out to her side.

He repeated the process, and she stood with her arms raised slightly to each side, not uncomfortably so, and her feet flat on the ground.

"I told you to keep your feet apart," he whispered in her ear.

She blushed beneath her blindfold and behind her gag. She had stood with her feet together, against his rules. His bare foot -- was it bare before? -- wedged itself between her ankles, pushing and tapping until her legs were shoulder width apart. And then further, and nudged each side until they matched her elbows. There he attached them to their own chains. She wouldn't be able to close her legs until he released her.

Because of the angle, her previously comfortable position was slightly less so. She still stood flat-footed, but her arms were stretched to their limits, her elbows almost locked. Her chest cavity expanded to relieve the pressure.

She breathed, deeply through her nostrils because her mouth was filled with silicon and saliva.

From her right ankle, the last he secured, Devon's hands slowly teased the skin of her leg, over the calf, behind the knee, along the thigh. It disappeared before reaching her nether regions only to reappear at her left ankle, and repeating its journey up her leg. The light touch goosed her skin again.

Mariah rattled her chains and grunted in frustration, her guttural noises matching the amplified soundtrack in the background. And the foreground? Devon returned at her summons, this time starting at each of her wrists, caressing both arms at the same time as he stood behind her. His clothed member brushed against her butt, his chest hairs tickled her bare back. Were those his nipples touching her shoulder blades? When had he removed his shirt?