Ariana Steele -- Arin, to her friends -- had a stressful job, which she loved. Her brilliant mind was responsible for her being third in her class when she graduated from Harvard Law School. She found Cambridge to be a wonderful place to learn, and she wanted to stay near it. So, it was no surprise when she accepted a job at a prestigious Boston law firm, and rose rapidly in the ranks.
She was also pleased to find that if she went west past the I-95 beltway, the countryside took on a rural, almost bucolic, appearance. The house she bought was isolated, and that was perfect for giving her the peace and quiet to unwind.
But the stress of her job couldn't just be dissipated completely by passivity. Arin tried partying, going to clubs, and 'dancing her ass off' as they say. The frantic activity freed her mind and let her use her body to express herself. To say Arin was good looking was a gross understatement. She was a knockout! If she stared at herself in a mirror, she saw the myriad 'faults' that any female feels when perusing her own body.
But an objective observer, if they were lucky enough to be permitted such a scrutiny, would have reported things about Arin differently. Starting at the top, they'd mention soft, luxurious, long brown hair that fell in gentle curls well past her shoulders, if it was let down. Then they'd talk about her deep brown eyes, radiating intelligence, her pert, kissable nose, and her luscious lips, quick to smile when she was happy.
If the observer could take the liberty to brush back Arin's hair, her delicate ears would appear, and her sensuous neck, so full of erogenous zones, especially her nape. But not only her neck responded to kisses and caresses -- her collarbones and 38 C breasts, with their quarter-sized areolae, had special spots which, when discovered, could drive her into ecstasy. Even stroking or kissing her tummy could arouse her, especially if a tongue was dipped into her navel, and lingered.
Of course her pussy was a fantastic erogenous zone. That almost goes without saying. But so were her thighs, knees -- especially their backs, her calves, and feet -- especially the toes. In short, Arin's body was an orgasmic minefield, that many men, and women, if truth be told, had tiptoed through during her life. She'd started in high school by giving her first handjob. Some of the guy's emission ended up on her hand, threatening to drizzle onto her skirt. Without thinking, she licked her hand clean quickly, and tasted cum for the first time. It was a strange, not unpleasant taste, she found.
The next time she gave a handjob, she held her face closer to the guy's dick as she pumped, and 'accidentally' let some of his first spurt hit her lips. Sure enough, this second sampling of semen tasted good enough that Arin graduated to blowjobs, sucking the guy's cock until he ejaculated, and swallowing his cum. Needless to say, she was popular. She even found that sucking on her own nipples when studying could help her keep alert. This came in handy when she experimented sexually with her female friends. She ultimately had sex with members of both sexes, and found pros and cons to each. She loved the passion of having her cunt stretched while a guy pounded her out. But she loved perhaps a bit more the delicate, sensuous touches of a woman's hand and tongue.
So now, firmly ensconced in her career, Arin was decidedly bisexual, but job stresses left her little time for a personal life, and therefore horny. Her job often took her out of town on extended trips, when she was called upon to act as a defense attorney for their clients. Once the trial was over, Arin might linger in that far away city for a day or two, blowing off steam by finding no-strings-attached bedmates, and having herself fucked and sucked silly.
Sometimes their clients were brought into court handcuffed, if they were considered a flight risk. If the client was considered dangerous, they might even be brought in wearing body shackles, with a chain around their waist, attached by chains to wrist cuffs and chains to ankle cuffs. Arin noted how this restricted the client's movements -- they had to shuffled to move, and the chains clanked with each step. Arin pitied these people -- men and women -- being treated in such a manner, little knowing how these images were working their way into her psyche.
A turning point occurred when she was visiting an old boyfriend far across the country. In the years since she'd last shared his bed, he'd gone on to experiment with a swinging lifestyle, so he took Arin to a party of like-minded people. In addition to the visual stimulation afforded by a group of nude bodies of various shapes, colors, sizes, and ages, both male and female, freely engaging in sex acts while others watched, Arin tried a few new things. She performed cunnilingus while being fucked doggy style. She performed fellatio while two women sucked on her tits. She learned that their version of 'rotisserie sex' meant being mouth fucked at the same time that another guy fucked her pussy. She even experienced her first double penetration, being fucked simultaneously in her cunt and ass.
But the most novel thing occurred near the end of that party. Since she trusted her former boyfriend, and there were a lot of witnesses present, she consented to being tied spreadeagled on a bed, while her boyfriend fucked her, and everyone else watched. It was the most overt act of sexuality that she ever performed before a large group of people, most of whom were virtually strangers. The ropes at her wrists and ankles prevented her limbs from moving very much. But she could still writhe and squirm and buck her hips as he reamed her cunt with his dick, using a basic missionary style position. He kept his upper torso braced up off of hers, which caused her to focus a lot on the point of contact between their bodies, where their pelvises were slapping together. It also gave the onlookers a better view of her torso as she sweated and strained.
Arin had her first experience of multiple orgasms during this act. She came so hard and so often that she was dazed when they'd finished.
The next day, as she flew home in first class, she analyzed that experience, wondering what triggered that sequence of orgasms. She'd never cum in sequence like that before, and certainly not that intensely. She was slumped in her plane seat, fully relaxed, and somewhat bemused and starry-eyed, still feeling the effects. Her immediate thought was that it really just couldn't have been sex with her former boyfriend. Certainly the sex with him had been good in the past, but never that good.
Was it the accumulation of all those dual and even triple couplings during the party? She didn't think so, because there had been a period of respite and cuddling before that final event. Was it performing in front of so many people? Being the center of attention? No, it really couldn't have been that. Arin knew herself well enough that she knew that exhibitionism wasn't really her thing. In the courtroom, she had to put aside her normal tendency toward introversion, because she had to perform in her client's interests. Her choice of an isolated home was further proof in her mind that she was more introvert than extrovert.
Something nagged at her at that moment. Something about court. Being in court. And a new thought surfaced. "Oh, no. It can't be that!" she chided herself mentally, shaking her head. But her analytical mind processed and processed, trying to disprove the hypothesis, and could not. "I was tied to the bed," she thought. "I'd never been tied up like that during sex." She stroked her chin, thoughtfully. "I remember straining at the ropes -- how helpless I felt. How vulnerable. Unable to do much but struggle, and not even much of that."
She gasped aloud. So loudly that a flight attendant walking by looked concerned. "Are you all right, Miss? Do you need a glass of water or something?"
"No, I'm fine, thank you," Arin replied, blushing delicately. "I just remembered something important I forgot to do. I'll make a note of it, and handle it when I get home," she offered as an excuse.
As the flight attendant smiled and walked away, Arin continued her train of thought -- the realization that made her gasp. "Tied up like that, I had to cede my control. My whole life has really been about control. My job demands it. And as much as I love my job, all that stress of being in control has taken its toll. It wasn't the onlookers. It wasn't really being on display. It wasn't really the fucking in and of itself, although that certainly helped. It was losing control! Since I couldn't control what was happening, I could only let go, submit, and experience it! And wow! Did I ever experience it!" She smiled and felt goosebumps ripple along her arms, remembering that firecracker string of climaxes that seemed to go on and on and on.
Even the thought of being tied up like that again made her body react viscerally. Her nipples stiffened, pressing against her blouse so firmly that her breasts ached slightly. She felt dampness near the joining of her thighs, and hoped the pungency coming from her stirring pussy wouldn't carry too far. She decided to visit the plane's restroom to blot her pussy dry, lest the leaks stain her skirt.
Inside the secured restroom, she hiked her skirt up to her waist, and pulled her panties partway down her thighs. She grabbed some paper towels, intending to wipe herself. But the scent from her gently swollen labia wafted into the air around her as her pussy was exposed to the air. That aroma prompted her to touch a hand to her wetness, and lick her essence off that hand. Her familiar taste triggered her libido, so she straddled the toilet, and started fingering herself. It felt wonderful, as usual, to masturbate, even in that cramped little room. She knew she couldn't take long in there, even if she was flying first class, so she was trying to hurry. Just then it occurred to her to imagine being tied to that bed again. She was shocked at how quickly her orgasm rocked her body, just by holding that image in her mind. An intense, satisfying climax claimed her, as her cunt juices rained into the toilet bowl.
Panting, she rested a minute or two, then wiped her pussy thoroughly, and resolved to stop mulling this over until she was safely home. All of her spare panties were in her checked baggage, after all. When she got back to her seat, she buried her mind in the mystery novel she'd bought before boarding the plane.
Back home again, Arin pondered her dilemma. She wanted to recapture that feeling, but it was impractical to replicate what had happened. She didn't know any swingers. She didn't have a boyfriend, or girlfriend for that matter, who could tie her to her bed. Nor did she really want someone invading the solitude of her home. She tabled the matter for the moment, choosing to let her subconscious mind mull it over.
