I'm going to tell you the dirty little secret of working at a home improvement store: a sizable chunk of the customers aren't there to fix their houses.
The largest proportion of these oddball customers come in two types. There's the art students. You know who they are because they are always asking weird questions about how to attach things that nobody needs to attach. When I first started working here, I got more than a few dates by helping skinny girls dye some concrete pink, or some such nonsense.
Then there's the other type of customer. The ones like Marjorie. You know what they are doing by the way they handle the rope, rubbing their fingers on it to test the texture, looking both ways before wrapping it around the wrist to see if it would chafe. I was pretty good at spotting the bondage freaks by the time I saw her for the first time. That was about six years ago.
Right now, I have Marjorie bent over a plywood box. Her hands are cuffed under her, she's using them to finger her ass between her legs.
I built the box with Marjorie's husband. That's how I got to know them. I learned from the art students that helping out led to the occasional fuck session. With the bondage freaks, I did even better.
Marjorie's husband is in the box. Between her moans, she's begging him to suck her nipples harder through the two holes that I drilled.
Marjorie's nipples are like control knobs. She gets aroused if you blow on them. One slow pinch will make her knees buckle. Her husband told me all this the first time I went to their house. They said they wanted to pay me for my time. Her husband sucked on her nipples until she begged to be allowed to come. He made her promise she'd suck me off.
I've built lots of stuff for Marjorie, and I've done lots of stuff to her. Right now, I'm about to fuck her ass.
"Suck harder, you bastard," Marjorie says. I can't see what he's doing, but Marjorie knows what I'm about to do.
I've said so out loud in a voice that is loud enough for Stan to hear. She knows that when I stick my dick in her ass, the only lube I'll use is the juice from her pussy. And she knows I'll last a long time back there, because I've already come down her throat, and in her pussy.
She has red hair. It's cut short in a way that accentuates her big lips. If she had any hair on her pussy, I'm sure it would match. It's glistening - she's rubbing furiously at her snatch, trying to get as slick as possible. Her hands are moving up and down her crack in an effort to get any moisture back there that she can.
In truth, I'd say her husband is the dominant one in this relationship, but I don't think they have any hard lines. It's not a master/ slave kind of pair, but a wanton slut with a kinky husband.
Her husband isn't really angry that I'm going to fuck her. He's angry there's nothing he can do about it.
"He's going to fuck my ass," Marjorie tells him. "And there's nothing I can do to stop him."
The service was Marjorie's idea. She called it The Safe Word. A voice controlled app on the phone that called us in the case of umm... sticky self-bondage situations. Marjorie was a computer programmer, and she wrote the code herself. The best part: it was free until you needed it.
Marjorie and her husband knew a lot of people in the local bondage scene. I wasn't naturally disposed toward BDSM when we started, I just liked to get my rocks off. But I've learned a lot about kinky women in that time, enough that I can walk into these situations and really go the extra mile.
Through Marjorie's introductions and my job at the home improvement store, I'd built quite a few devices for people so there was a good amount of trust with the smallish circle of clients we started with.
The deal was simple. If they called, they had to pay. Cash worked, and I turned that over to Marjorie. We charged $500 per person. Then there were the ones that didn't have the cash. In exchange for being set free, they agreed to let their rescuer fuck them, in any way.
Some of the people were good planners. The folks that were into self bondage tended to be the best. They usually had a plan to get out, but if that failed, calling me was better than screaming until a neighbor called the cops. The good planners usually had house keys hidden, with detailed plans in our database. These were the folks too shy to tell anyone they knew about their kinks, and they would do things with stranger that they'd never do with a husband or a lover.
I work nights at the home improvement store, so most of the people I deal with are married, playing hookey from work, etc.
But there were all kinds of people. People that didn't want to pay and didn't want to fuck. People that promised to pay later. If I thought a client would change her mind, I'd usually videotape a consent statement. But I definitely left one woman strapped to her own bed, waiting for the kids to get home because she wouldn't agree to fuck. I've had to break into second floor windows, talk my way past hotel security, and pull women out of car trunks.
In the past year, we'd probably serviced five or six clients per month. We even brought on a gay dude to handle those situations. Marjorie and her husband did a few jobs. My gut says that most of these people wanted to get caught. Marjorie told me that she'd never heard of so many people getting stuck in bondage before this.
That's what's going on here. Marjorie lured her husband in the box earlier this afternoon. She'd made him suck her tits all day.
Then she gave him the bad news. She lost the key.
True to form, I get the call. Normally, I'd show up and fuck her, then free her husband. That's the deal, even if we're all friends. But in this scene orchestrated by Marjorie, she wanted me to make a few demands. The first was that I'd only fuck her if she wore the cuffs.
At first, she protested. "You know I'll do whatever you want," she said. "Don't make me wear them."
But I tweaked her nipple and she started narrating to her husband.
"oooohhh," she moaned. "You know I can't say no when you do that."
"Get the cuffs on."
"Just let me suck you off," she said. "You know I'm good."
"Cuffs," I said, "or you can cut him out with a saw."
I tweaked her nipple again, drawing my fingers down the length. Her knees went weak, and I knew her pussy was probably getting wet. It was the truth. I didn't need the cuffs. The electrical shockwave between her cunt, brain and nipples make her a slave to any man.
"Just get it over with and get me out of this box, you asshole." That was her husband.
I responded as Marjorie arranged.
"The more you talk, the more I'll enjoy this, Stan. You aren't getting out until I fuck her."
She came back with the cuffs.
Her boobs were really firm. I bent over and put a nipple in my mouth, then bit it gently. I bit it again in rapid succession. She grunted and I reached between her legs. Totally soaked.
When I pushed her to her knees, she went down with no resistance. I stepped forward. My crotch touches her face - I didn't have my pants off yet - when she raises her arms up for me to shackle her. I pull her up, then lay her on the box on her back. Her head hung over the edge. I fucked her mouth without mercy. This is what she asked me to do. She didn't have to tell Stan what was going on because the gags and slurps of a rough blowjob would be unmistakable to him. With her head over the edge of the box, I had a clear road to her throat. A rough tug on her nipples drew a deep moan from the base of her soul. That moan opened her mouth, and I used the opportunity to push my dick even deeper down her throat. I held it there until she began to buck a little bit. Then a slow rhythm until I blew my load.
I hadn't taken my dick out of her mouth yet, but Stan must have figured out that I had come because things have gotten quiet.
"Ok, you had your fun. Now let me out," Stan said.
"I think you know how this works," I told him. "One fuck per person. There's two of you that are tied up."
"Oh fuck you. You put her there."
"Nonetheless, there are two of you tied up now."
