Sarah: Party Bondage

Author's note:

This is a fairly tame, straightforward piece by my normal BDSM standards, but I liked the idea.

As you can tell at the end, I also have plans for this girl if enough people tell me they like it :)

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I really hadn't expected to be spending my Saturday evening tied to a chair in somebody else's kitchen, naked and sitting on a remote-control vibrator that was having its control passed around the room. I really hadn't. Mind you, I hadn't expected to be gagging to suck cock in public, either, so I suppose there's a first time for just about everything, and often all at once.

It came about like this: The other people whose chair I ended up tied to were Catherine and James, and they were the first friends I ever had who I was happy to see married and who I loved both of unreservedly. With every other couple I knew I had a favoured member. How they managed it I don't know, but I've been grateful for it many times in the past.

They were also swingers, and insisted on inviting me to their parties. I'm not prudish, I'm not inexperienced, and I'm also not connected, so after asking some very hard questions about who was coming and what usually happened, I went.

And, of course, gave entirely the wrong impression by seeming nervous in front of them all, and having to be wooed by the extremely fit young man who eventually took me off to bed, instead of stalking him first. I spent the next day mentally kicking myself for it, and it took Catherine's breezy refusal to be gentle or take "Shut up!" for an answer to get me out of it.

"Honey," she said after coming through my front door while I was still opening it, "You wouldn't be normal if you didn't act out of character when stepping into a new situation. Everyone is either withdrawn or too far out there. And most of the ones who get too hyper we end up throwing out. Oh yes, and sometimes people come along all confident, and quiet, and then panic and run screaming into the night." She leaned across to pat my hand. "You did great, darling!"

That did not stop me cursing myself for being a nervous, giggling fool, but it did mollify me a little.

"You're coming next week, aren't you?"

I regained some self-respect through self-control by firmly saying "Maybe!" I managed to get through a very enjoyable social visit, several cups of tea and arguing about whether I should try and find a distance education course or just go back to Uni part time locally, without committing myself.

Which was good, because the night of the next party happened to coincide with a date, which worked well in that we decided we probably weren't suited for each other but shouldn't pass up the opportunity for a good hard fuck while it was there. I ended up staggering home from his place at about the time I would have left the party, pleasantly sore and rubbery-kneed, aching but not sore between my legs and only had to worry about one extra person knowing about the mole on my left bum cheek.

But I couldn't keep that up for ever, of course. I couldn't let myself escape the next party.

I turned up with a fairly sketchy approach to dressing. The aim was obviously to look decent and possibly even classy, but with a focus on eroticism and ease of access. Which basically meant flesh and short skirts, with maybe a lot of zips or loose things.

So, without thinking too hard, I chose tall boots with high heels and suspender stockings, black silk panties that I knew could be pulled aside fairly easily, a short red and black tartan pattern pleated skirt that made me look like a schoolgirl (score one bonus point for adolescent male fantasies) and a tight black cotton top that outlined my breasts (fairly tight C-cups, if that matters) and had a scooped neckline that I would in other circumstances have described as indecently low but now seemed about right. I did wear a bra, choosing a black lace number that gave me a bit of lift for added cleavage and poked out around the edges of my top. After careful consideration, I tied a lace ribbon around my neck to act as a collar and add to my mental picture of myself as fairly confident, sexually.

I was still nervous as all hell when I walked up to their front door and rang the bell.

I was left waiting a fraction of a second too long for my self-assurance before James flung open the door, gave me a huge beaming smile, said "Christ, you look fuckable!" and swept me into a welcome hug.

This is one reason I like them. No matter how much back-pedalling and double-taking your mind is trying to do, you're helpless in the fact of their honest happiness to see you. You can get desensitised to a lot of innuendo by Catherine and James.

"I had better fucking well look fuckable, it took me long enough to put this on!" I protested, but couldn't entirely avoid blushing slightly.

"Well it won't take nearly as long to get it off," he declared, seized my hand and started pulling me down the hallway. "Let's get a vote..."

I yanked backwards, going beet red. "Don't you dare!" I said, my voice going a bit squeaky, which I instantly hated myself for.

He relented, and gave me another hug. "Drinks are in the kitchen, help yourself, love," he said next to my ear, and then had to answer the door again while I escaped down the hallway.

In the kitchen where a couple of faces I thought I recognised, Catherine making the men talk dirty by wrapping her lips around the neck of a beer bottle, and a chair that I couldn't stop staring at.

Catherine plowed straight through the men - who didn't mind - and wrapped herself around me. "Hey, hun, glad you could make it!"

"Catherine," I said, "What the hell is that?" It was a simple wooden chair, strapped to the top of a table, quite sturdy, but it had straps bolted to it at strategic places, including for ankles, and for wrists behind each back leg. There was also an adjustable extension up the back, with another strap at about neck height.

Catherine was suddenly behind me. I had no idea how she had managed it, but she leaning into my back with her arms around my waist, whispering into my ear. "That, my darling," she breathed," is our "Special chair!" She giggled, and her hands shot up to clasp my breasts.

Don't get me wrong, I'm as up for lipstick-lesbian cock-teasing as the next girl, but the situation made me nervous enough to yelp, to an explosion of what I could barely recognise as being good-natured laughter.

A beer was thrust into my hands, and I drank a little too quickly until my face had cooled down.

Somehow I managed to avoid looking at the chair again, and found myself in the lounge where one couple were already approaching the mutual stripping stage of slow dancing, at least one of the shadowy corners was occupied and I appeared to be talking to a tall, long-fingered man who was pleasant enough to not be threatening.

I was still sufficiently rattled that my small-talk consisted of whispering "Some people are getting into it early!"

His reply was easy and amused for the right reasons. "Yeah! A few people get here and are so horny they need one to start with, and a few people are trying to see how many they can get during the night."

"How many condoms do they go through??"

"I really don't want to know that!" he laughed, and I had to laugh with him. I finished my beer, but before he could jump in to try and be gentlemanly and prevent me leaping up to get another one, Catherine wandered through with spares.

"Just to let you know," she said casually, "This room is public sex, the garage is group sex - it's insulated, don't look at me like that! - and the three bedrooms are available, but there might be a line. I've scattered condoms about if you run out."

"Run out?" I asked incredulously, "What are you expecting of me?"

She sighed theatrically, and rolled her eyes at my conversation partner. "Jeremy, loosen her up, would you?"

She was gone before I could throw my empty beer bottle at her.

#

Okay, yes, we went to find a bedroom while Jeremy was still laughing. I had to prove that he didn't need to "loosen me up".

It turned out that he had a sumptuous, satisfying cock and an even more satisfying tongue. Now, normally I would be quite happy with keeping him there, but the rooms did need to be shared, and he was interested in wandering some more, and anyway, I still had a point to prove.

I was slightly dishevelled and satisfyingly tingly when we left to let the next couple (actually, threesome) in, and not a little floppy at the knees.

Then I went into the kitchen to find another beer, to rinse my mouth out before I needed to kiss anyone else.

Which was when it all started.

#

A woman let out a ragged edge-of-orgasm moan when I entered the kitchen, and started gasping "Oh please let me cum, please let me cum, please let me cum," over and over again to a background of general sounds of approval - most of them male, a few female.

That brought me up short at the door.

Fully clothed party goers (taking the term loosely, in some cases, both sexes) stood around the edge of the room, leaning on bench tops or against the fridge or each other. In the middle of the room, was the chair strapped to the table.

Sitting in the chair was a naked woman who I didn't recognise. Her knees were spread so that her legs ran down the outside of the chair legs, where her ankles were held securely by the straps. Rope around her waist kept her against the chair back, and her arms disappeared behind it.

She was coated in sweat, and had some fancy silver clamps attached to her nipples, and she seemed to be sitting on a large, red vibrator which had a thick arm curving up the front, right over her clitoris.

Suddenly she screamed, her body jerking against the restraints (which would explain why the chair was strapped to the table!) before collapsing back, moaning "Oh god, please get me over with!"

There was general applause and one man, who I saw was holding a small box the same red as the vibrator, gave an exaggerated bow and then passed the box to the woman on his left, who did something which elicited a gasp from the woman in the chair.

I was paralysed, frozen in the door of the kitchen, when Catherine spotted me and vigorously waved me over, a broad grin on her face. I gave her a dazed look, and she responded with a now wicked grin, and waved a beer bottle at me tantalisingly. I gave in, and with an effort stepped inside and walked quickly past the table to where she was standing, while trying not to stare too hard at the woman on the chair.

Catherine handed me the opened beer and made space for me to lean against the bench. We were looking at the bound woman's back. This close, I could see drops of sweat slowly running down her torso.

The sight was disturbingly erotic, something my nipples couldn't help but noticing and, given what I was wearing, everyone else couldn't help noticing my nipples.

I tried to cover up my embarrassment by gulping beer, and nearly choked.

"Glad you could drop in," Catherine said with an appreciative leer at my nipples which I only half noticed and didn't have the spare mental capacity to get unnerved by.

"You, um, do this at every party?" I tried to ask casually, after getting my breath back. I followed it with a more controlled but just as large swig.

"Oh, usually. Not the same way twice, though. Last time was a hogtie and a hand-operated Hitachi. But James and I bought that vibrator on Wednesday and we couldn't wait to try it out."

I didn't want to ask what a 'Hitachi' was. "Have you?" I asked, trying to turn it back on her.

"Oh yes, you missed that bit," she replied with a wicked grin that made part of my mind want to run away from the wolf. "Erin up there thought I had so much fun she was naked before I was finished."

While I was processing that, a short but handsome man on the other side of me chimed in with "Which we had to appreciate - shame to leave a naked body alone!"

This raised a general cheer, which was drowned by another desperate scream from Erin. And that raised more applause.

"Pete," Erin said in a ragged voice. "Get your fucking cock up here now!"

To general acclamation, a widely grinning man I later learned to be her husband clambered up onto the table, stood in front of her and, unzipping his pants, fed her a sumptuously fat cock. As hungry slurping sounds spread throughout the room, I suddenly found the controller thrust into my hands.

I nearly dropped it as if it were red hot. Catherine leaned over my shoulder, and pointed at it. "It's got different controls for the anal, vaginal and clitoral bits, but you can just turn that knob and run them all together."

"I'm not doing that!" I said in an unexpectedly squeaky voice.

There was a good-humoured round of encouragement as Catherine said, with a smirk, "The rules are that she can't cum until everyone in the room has had a go. You're nearly the last one. Off you go!"

Then, just as I was wondering in a panic how to get out of this, she grabbed my breast in one hand and I nearly fainted as a jolt of pure pleasure went straight through me. I had to grab the counter for support, and felt the sensation mingling with a general roar of approval from the crowd.

Suddenly there was a man in front of me sliding his hand over my other breast, and his voice mingled with Catherine's to say "We know your body's responding. We know you like this and want to know what it would be like to sit in that chair. Give a little pleasure first."

At that point, my thumb jabbed at the vibrator control.

The woman on the chair convulsed again, made a muffled sound and Pete's knees nearly buckled. "Oh fuck yeah!" he gasped, as the crowd cheered again.

Suddenly it was as if I had stepped over a line into drunk and impulsive, and laughed helplessly as I gave the control another twist. Erin convulsed so hard she nearly moved the table, and Pete gave a holler that was nearly pain as his body yanked his cock out of Erin's mouth.

Suddenly Catherine's hand, over mine, twisted the vibrator down to nearly not running. "Careful," she said with as much grin in her voice as she was wearing on her face. "You nearly had her over!"

Erin groaned again, even more raggedly. "Oh please! Pete, get the fuck back here!"

As her hungry slurps sounded again, the man whose hand had not yet left my breast took the controller gently away from me and passed it to another woman, who licked her lips and said in an impish voice "I get to finish her off, don't I?" to a chorus of catcalls, cheers and a grateful, wet whining noise from Erin as Pete's cheeks flushed and he began to breathe with a lot of self-conscious self-control.

All I was really paying attention to was Catherine's hands, which had slid around me from behind and were cupping and massaging my breasts. I dimly felt her pressing against my back, with her hips pushing mine forwards and her breasts squashing against me, but those sensations were muted in comparison. The man in front of me, a complete stranger who had a sensuous and honest face, ran his fingertips lightly over the exposed tops of my breasts, then reached down and put his hand firmly over my suddenly throbbing cunt as Catherine found and pinched my nipples.

What felt like a brief return to sanity and doubt disappeared and I nearly collapsed, hands fumbling desperately for the bench top to keep me up. Catherine held me firmly by my breasts, which didn't help my knees at all.

"You'd like to go next," she breathed in my ear which, at that point, was correct. The man in front of me, without removing his hand from my groin or even moving it at all, began to kiss me lightly and said, in a voice which I suddenly realised was like being caressed with velvet, "You want your fantasies to come true."

My head fell back onto Catherine's shoulder and I gave a ragged moan. I barely hear Pete's shuddering grunt as he came into his wife's mouth or her high, loud and long scream as she finally came, soaking the vibrator and the chair with her cum. They penetrated my mind only as even more delirium-inducing sensation.

Before I knew what was happening, I was naked again, standing in a brightly lit kitchen, surrounded by a few friends and many strangers, seeing an exhausted and very nearly unconscious woman being lifted down off a kitchen table and watching as the chair was carefully wiped down. Catherine and the strange man kept caressing me, which was enough to stop me asking questions of myself, or panicking.

Suddenly I was being helped up onto the table, and either the nearness of the chair, the effort I had to expend, or the changed perspective of the crowd, now all grinning madly and watching me much more obviously, made me nervous again.

It is ridiculous to get suddenly nervous when you are naked and about to be strapped to a chair with a complicated vibrator inside you, but I managed it anyway.

"I'm really going to regret this, aren't I?" I asked, staring at rope in the strange man's hands.

Catherine rushed to reassure me. "I hope not, darling," she said, kissing me on the cheek. "You have the same right to back out as you always have. But we hope that you'll relax and enjoy yourself instead!"

I gave a nervous, slightly hollow laugh and then the dildo, freshly cleaned and glistening with fresh lube, was held up by one of the other women present, and my knees went so weak I didn't so much sit in the chair as fall on it. The vibrator had a long, curved base from which a butt plug sprang at one end, and a 7" dildo and French tickler at the other. The whole thing was scarlet, and covered with little nodules.

They had to, laughingly, get me to lift myself up and then, carefully, while my heart was beating so fast I thought my ears would burst, Catherine slid it between my legs and pressed upwards.

I thought for one giddy second, before the sensation of it entering my recently-fucked pussy made thought a little difficult, that they hadn't asked me how I felt about having things in my arse. Lucky I don't care either way, I half-thought, and then my knees buckled and I dropped again, Catherine whipping her hand away, and landed on it, shoving it the rest of the way in.

"Sweet Jesus FUCK!" I gasped out, getting a brief spattering of applause and much laughter.

While I was trying to get my breath back, I felt the man's hands loop rope around my waist until a strap of five strands, against each other, held me snugly in place. He tested, tightened, adjusted and tied off with speed and care that spoke of considerable amounts of experience. Then his hands pulled mine back and clipped them into the cuffs, which tightened as he adjusted them. Catherine's hands spread my knees apart and they each buckled one leg to the chair.

I had a sudden, sideways thought. "What's your name?" I asked the intently working, strangely compelling man.

He flashed me a smile, but I took more notice of the twinkle in his eyes. "Clay," he said. "I'm very pleased to meet you." Somehow, that was the most erotic thing anyone had said to me that evening.

I managed to prevent myself from answering, because I knew that the only sound I would be able to make would be a sort of squeaking noise.

Then suddenly I was alone on the table, and it hit me how exposed I was. I almost gave a nervous laugh, but had enough self-control to stop it mid-throat.

Catherine walked in front of me holding the remote control, with another of her wicked grins plastered onto her face. She held up the remote and waggled it in front of me.

"Now," she said, completely unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. "These are the rules, in case you've forgotten. This gets passed around the room, and everyone gets a chance to play with you, before you're done. We are going to try our best not to make you cum before we're finished, unless you request multiples, of course, but I must warn you that if you do, we won't be stopping. Any questions?"