Author's note:
I won't spill any beans in this little piece.
When you've read the last word of this part, you'll have followed Dalia's footsteps in her journey, and you'll end up where she does. I hope that the journey will have been pleasurable for you, and perhaps even more than that, I hope that there's that one particular scene that will stick with you when you have a little me-time.
A gift from me to you, that's how I'd like to see my story.
C&D
___
CHAPTER TEN
Obey
Dalia walked into Matt's living room and frowned when she saw the coffee table pushed up against the wall. A large padded chair had taken its place. She pulled on the backrest, but it didn't budge, Matt had bolted it to the floor. Why? What was he planning?
Dalia jumped when Matt walked out of the kitchen and said, "I got it from Sonya, you like it?"
"I don't know, what's it for?"
"It's a bondage chair."
Dalia swallowed and edged away from the chair. "Do you really need a special chair for that?"
"If you want to do it right, you do. I've got a set of straps, takes hardly any time to tie a slut like you down. You'll even be comfortable." He turned and said, "You want a drink?"
"Wine would be nice."
Matt disappeared back into the kitchen and left Dalia to herself. The chair loomed ominous in the room, her eyes wandered to it again and again. He wouldn't have set it up if he wasn't going to use it. And if he was, how? Would he take pictures so she could see later? The thought made her pussy twitch. She'd ask, if she dared.
It looked innocent enough, wide legs and a high back with a large gap between the seat and the back rest. The generous padding should be comfy.
"Dalia?"
"Yeah?"
"I've got your wine, and the food's ready. You can come to the kitchen." He grinned when he saw the blush on her cheeks and said, "Like my chair?"
Dalia nodded but kept her lips sealed, she followed Matt into the kitchen. The smell that invaded her nostrils was delicious. Sharp and tangy, but it promised more flavors hidden in every bite. "That smells nice."
"Arrabiata, ever had it?"
"No, but it sounds great."
"It is, but don't eat too much. You should eat light before I strap you to the chair."
Dalia paused with her hand on her chair. "I'll keep it in mind."
The twinkle in Matt's eyes made Dalia way too nervous to let herself enjoy her food to the fullest. She pushed it around on her plate and chewed slowly, desperate to drag out the meal.
She finished too soon, and Matt led Dalia towards the chair. She shied away from it. "You don't have to be afraid, it won't bite."
"I know."
"Strip."
A nervous thrill flared in the pit of Dalia's stomach, Matt was her Master now, and she his fuck slut. Her clothes dropped to the floor until she was in just her heels. She looked up at Matt and lifted her foot, and he shook his head. The shoes went.
Matt stepped in and positioned Dalia in front of the chair. "The start's a little tricky, so do exactly as I say. Understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Lie down with you shoulders on the seat, your head goes through the hole in the back. I'll support you at the start, but I'll tie you in place soon enough so you don't have to worry. It's okay to lean into the chair, it won't slide."
"Can you hold my arms?"
"Of course."
Dalia felt strangely cared for as Matt made her bondage more and more inescapable. Strong leather straps tied her knees to the the chair's back rest, with just enough slack to ease the strain on her back. He pulled her arms down and strapped them to the front legs. Her ass dangled over the edge of the chair, both her holes on full display. Her mouth lined up perfectly with her throat.
This was better than any fantasy she'd cooked up about the chair. Worse too, so much worse. Shame coursed through her body. Everything was on display, her fat tits, her cunt, her ass. Matt had full access to her, and her body sang even before he touched her.
"Sir?"
Matt looked up from fiddling with something inside his chest of goodies. "Yes, slut?"
"Can you do something for me?"
"What is it?"
"My phone still has the screen saver you put on there."
"The one with my cum on your tits and my cock in your mouth?"
Dalia's stomach flipped as his words brought back the shame. "Yes."
"And you want a new one?"
"Yes."
"What if someone at work sees? What would Betty say?"
"My phone's off at work."
Matt pushed two fingers in Dalia's wet pussy, her body jerked up to meet his touch. "I'll take your picture if you want to see how much of a fuck slut you are."
Matt popped the cap off a permanent marker he'd taken from his goodie chest and wrote on Dalia's thighs in big, bold letters. What did he write? Fuck slut? Fuck toy? Whore bag? Cock sleeve? Every humiliating answer turned Dalia on even more.
A loud slap startled Dalia, and she looked up to see Matt with a wide belt in his hand. The leather was a soft brown, well used and unlacquered. It looked supple, but when Matt snapped it in his hands, the sharp sound told of its strength and toughness.
Matt draped the belt over her tits so it ran from one nipple to the other before he pulled it under the chair along her sides. The smooth leather rubbed on her hard nipples, and when Matt cinched the belt, the leather crushed her sensitive nubs into her bulging tits. Every breath squashed her ample tits, but it wasn't too bad.
Matt hooked his finger under the belt and pulled. He peeked over the back rest and met her eyes. "Think you can take another notch?"
The look in her eyes must've told him all he needed to know, because before she knew it, the belt's steady pressure turned a touch harsher. The soft edges dug into her sensitive flesh as her chest rose and fell. What would happen when he started fucking her? Her tits would bounce every time he slammed inside of her. They'd strain at the leather, and her nipples would rub against it. Dalia groaned and let her head dangle down. What was he doing to her?
