"You wanted this, remember?"
I swallowed and nodded. She leaned forward and stroked my cheeks, them pushed her thumb into my mouth and forced it gently open. She leaned forward. I thought she was going to kiss me, but instead, she spat in it, then slapped me hard across the face, laughing She slipped the wings of the butterfly gag behind my lips and fastened the little silver buckle behind my head. A couple of pumps on the rubber bulb, and my cheeks puffed out like a grotesque hamster, rendering me incapable of anything more than a grunt.
I had the feeling that you get when you are on a rollercoaster which is about to start, and you know that it's too late to get off.
She slowly and methodically tested the straps holding me to the heavy wooden chair on which I sat. The leather creaked. I wriggled. There wasn't much give.
I was strategically placed in the corner of the bedroom, slightly elevated to give a grandstand view of whatever was about to happen.
"See you in a while" she said, and blew me a kiss. I was left alone, in either anticipation or apprehension, I wasn't sure which.
I could hear her moving around in the next room as I tried to interpret her actions from what sounds I could make out.
After what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than thirty minutes, I heard the doorbell ring. An ordinary sound, but in my heightened state of arousal, it was more like an electric shock.
I could hear muffled conversation, and laughter, but nothing clear enough to make out. Apparently drinks were being poured, as I could hear the chink of glass
It went quieter then, apart from rustling and indistinct movement, but presently I began to make out the distinct sounds of pleasure. Small gasps and laboured breathing at first, then the clunk of a shoe hitting the floor.
Finally, unmistakably, the sound of a zipper being undone. My imagination was working overtime, and I realised somewhat to my surprise, that although one part of me was feeling physically sick at the unfolding situation, another part of me was more aroused than I could ever remember being. I had an erection that was so hard that it throbbed almost painfully, and I wriggled in the chair in my discomfort.
After what seemed an age, there came the soft sound of stockinged feet approaching the bedroom. In she came, a vision in black silk stockings, straight out of a burlesque calendar. Eight strap suspenders, tightly boned basque and long satin gloves, all in black, and behind her she led a magnificent specimen of a man, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not into guys in any way, but it was impossible not to acknowledge what a superb physique he had. Had I not been feeling inferior up to that point, I certainly was afterwards.
Neither of them looked at me or acknowledged me in any way, as she turned and placed her arm around his neck and slipped her tongue into his mouth, whilst his hands roamed freely over her body, and she moulded to him.
After a few minutes of this, she slid slowly to her knees until her face was level with the bulging front of his shorts. She looked up into his eyes, as she rubbed the hardness before her firmly with her left hand. He groaned loudly and put his hands on the back of her head and dropped his chin to his chest.
Then, with agonising slowness, she put her fingers over the waste band and pulled it down, until the entire length of his huge member was uncovered. She wrapped her fingers around the shaft and began to slide her hand up and down. More groaning.