The Wrong Choices

Chapter 3 - Pervert Pleasure

Being taped up to the chair intensified my anger and restlessness. No matter how much I pulled, the tape won't come loose, and all attempts to yell had led to the tape on my lips chaffing at my skin. All this while my boyfriend and his whore had been so engrossed in each other that it seemed I did not even exist. I tried shutting my eyes closes, but ended up opening them again. Curiosity was killing me. I had to watch this through. He started kissing her all over her body and she kissed him back. As the intensity of their make out increased, I violently struggled against my bonds.

I was shouting continuously through the gag, asking him stop right away. All I wanted to do is go up there and hold the bitch by her hair and throw her out of the room. My screams of "nooo...stop it." just came out as loud mmphs and grunts.

Thankfully, the noise I made distracted them, and they abruptly stopped. Was it over? Probably not. The woman stood up from the bed, and put her hands beneath her skirt. At first I could not understand what she was doing. It seemed like a stupid, filthy thing to do. But no, I was the one being stupid.

She bent low and pulled down her panties, and out came a thin black thong. She let it drop to the floor and stepped out of it. While I still didn't get the aim behind doing it, my boyfriend got up, and picked up her panties, kissed her on the lips and started walking towards me, balling up the cloth in his hands as he got closer. I looked away from him out of utter disgust, but he held my chin and made me look at him. The wadded-up panties were brought closed to my taped lips and that's when I finally grasped, what the woman had actually intended. I started saying "No. Please. No. Not that." But it all came out as a garbled crap. Taped lips meant no air could escape my mouth, so almost all noises I made from the throat, ended on the edge of my tongue in warped speech. Something like "mm meaaaa."

He ripped the tape from my lips, making me shout again in pain. As soon as my mouth opened, he rammed the wad in. With one hand, he applied pressure on my jaws, and with other he pushed the panties past my teeth, deep into my oral cavity. They were wet, and as soon as the cloth touched my palate, my gag reflex kicked in and I started coughing. But he didn't let go. The big hand remained clamped on my lips as tape was torn off again and plastered, holding the soiled panties in my mouth.

My coughing stopped, and was replaced by angry shouts which came out as mere squeals. Their trick had worked. Stuffing my mouth ensured, that the sound I made, could not be loud enough to disturb them. In fact, from the look on his face, and the bulge on his crotch, I was assured that my gagged screams were turning him on. Using the panties that she was wearing was the ultimate blow to my self respect. It was soft silk, and I was confident that they were wet even before they went into my mouth. It felt disgusting. I wanted to vomit there and then. Ananya Salgaocar, who wouldn't even touch something like this, was holding someone else's undergarment in her mouth. Yuck!

They resumed the kissing as I watched on helplessly. My eyes glared at them and I swore that I was going to slap that bitch really bad, the minute I got free. They undressed each other in a slow, seductive manner, and when he put his hand on her back to unclasp her bra, I just couldn't watch anymore. I started thrashing and jumping in the chair, making as much noise as I could, mewling through the panties no matter how stupid and fruitless it seemed. This had to stop, that was all I knew. He had never could unclasp my bra hook in a single shot, and I had never undressed him or removed his pants so efficiently and seductively. This bitch was a pro at what she was doing and they had definitely done this before. I could not figure out which was worse. Seeing them making out, or realizing that she was better than me in every possible way.

My ruckus interrupted them again and he got up - just in his briefs, his erection under the white brief clearly visible - and once again walked to the edge of the bed. Her bra was lying below the bedpost, black, laced and thin, somewhat matching to the panties now in my mouth. She was still lying on the bed, in her skirt and top, but no underwear. I could see her flowing hair, trimmed waist and curvaceous ass. She hummed slowly while fiddling with her legs, while my boyfriend approached me with the Bra in his hands. I was so disgusted and frustrated, that his face was the last thing I wanted to look at. But just with a pressure of two fingers on my chin, he managed to make me look into his eyes. Once again there was that crazy look and a wide mischievous smile, as he straightened out the bra, turned it upside down and positioned the bra cups over my eyes. I just kept staring at him, as he put the bra cups on my eyes, so that, the cleavage was right above my nose bone and then tied the bra-straps behind my head.

Satisfied with his work, he tightened the straps a bit more and knotted them together. I had a good idea of how I must have looked with the bra-blindfold over my eyes, and duct tape over my lips. Like a bloody lingerie showcase. The cups didn't touch my eyes, but they did the job of preventing me from seeing anything. Even if I turned my head around, or lowered it, I could just see the floor or the ceiling. It was thin enough to let light penetrate and yet thick enough to stop me from seeing anything else. Her panties in my mouth, her bra over my eyes, what next? Her socks in my ears or probably in my vagina and asshole? Fucking bastards!!

For a minute, the idea of being blindfolded was quite relieving. At least, now I didn't have to look at their make out session. But after a while, my impatience grew as the pch pch of kissing and slurping continued, accompanied with their giggles and Ahs and oohs. It was overwhelming. I tried to imagine myself in her place, making out with my boyfriend, while she stayed trussed up on the chair. No, it was not possible. I couldn't even imagine doing something like that to another woman, no matter how much I hated her. But this guys had crossed all possible limits. It was mental torture and physical abuse, and my helplessness was breaking me down from within. Never ever in my life, had I felt so helpless, so worthless. Just a piece of trash or a furniture item stacked up in the corner of the room, that's all I was to them.

There was silence again, followed by sounds of a wardrobe being opened up, the shadows moved and I felt someone walking towards me. Soft, small hands gripped my jaws and twisted and turned my head. It was her. She grabbed a bunch of my hair and yanked at them making me look up. It hurt so bad, that I squealed like a cat. The other hand was now on my taped mouth, tightly pushing against my face, smothering my squeals. I gulped, and the thin, wet panty slipped deeper into my mouth, almost touching the throat, kicking up my gag reflex. She let go of the grip on my hair and let me regain my composure. I needed water, and I needed those wet panties out of my mouth. I would even promise to keep quiet, if they just pulled it out. I was done trying, done fighting and just wanted a moment of unrestrained peace.

But that was a luxury was too far-fetched. Her hands moved to my chest, fingers crawling over my breasts, suddenly pinching my nipples so hard I squawked like never before: "um mmukin mhore." But that just made her laugh hysterically. And I suddenly realized her voice was as sexy as her body.

Never ever had a woman touched me like that. The pinch was followed by hands writhing inside my t-shirt, under my bra, reaching down to my now erect nipples. Her soft fingers played with both my breasts simultaneously. A tickling, sensuous touch that was full of mischief and malice. Long nails encircled my nipples and carved through the skin of my soft small boobs. And then suddenly again a pinch. The whole process repeated thrice leaving me moaning and groaning, awakening something I had never felt before. My make outs with the guys did turn me on, but a feather soft sensuous touch such as this was and unimaginable arousing pleasure, as well as an unbearable torment. She was playing with me and I could do nothing about it. I could sense that she was enjoying herself as she continued the finger-boob torture, while my boyfriend was just sitting there and enjoying the show. Finally, she stopped for a second and the next moment something soft, slimy and thin was thrust at my nostrils. I could smell chocolate. Shit! It was a condom. She rubbed the condom across my cheeks and my nostrils filling them up with the smell of chocolate essence.

I twisted and turned to shake her off, but she continued relentlessly, until my boyfriend calmly said, "Come on. Get your sexy ass over here." The condom was gone but something plastic and thin was thrust in my cleavage. The condom wrapper, I guessed. So that was what I was to her. Trash bin. Confirmed.

I kicked and squealed, and tried to get up. But it was futile. For some long devastating minutes, I could hear them making out and I was sure they even had sex. I heard sounds of ecstasy, laughs and moans. I had just kissed a guy and felt really guilty about it. But the punishment of being restrained and made to watch my boyfriend making out with another woman, hearing them making love while being trussed up on a stupid chair was the worst possible thing a guy could ever do to his girlfriend. I felt broken and angry at the same time. A part of wanted to slap him hard and leave him forever as soon as I was released from this damned place. And a part of me craved to be kissed by him, to be in his arms again. To be as close to him as the woman was.

I didn't realize when I had started crying. Even the tears ended up in the bra-blindfold, making it wet. Hearing all those sounds, had awakened an irreplaceable desire in me. The butterflies in my stomach were unleashed and as their moans intensified, my crotch grew wetter. Shit! Hearing them was turning me on. Combined with my plight, it was making me wild and horny as hell. Fuck anger, fuck the betrayal. I just wanted him so much that I could forget everything that was done so far, just to be kissed by him. For the first time, I actually wanted to lose my virginity and have sex. With him. Him and only him and no one else. Out of the blue, I had turned into a depraved and degraded soul, who was ruled only by lust and desire. That was the effect of being forced to hear him fuck his whore. I yearned to see them. I so much wanted to shake of the bra off my eyes, that I launched the ruckus of moving, thrashing and swirling my head again.

Suddenly the sounds ended with a muffled shriek from the woman, and curiosity made me halt my commotion too. I listened hard for a hint of what was coming next. All I could hear was loud panting coming from where the bed was. Ah, an orgasm had been reached. He had probably muffled her scream of pleasure. There was movement, and then sudden flash of light that fell on my blindfolded eyes which ensured me that someone had just clicked my picture. It seemed like they had satisfied all their desires and where proceeding to whatever was next on the agenda. Probably she was the one who clicked my picture as a reminder of her success in humiliating her lover's girlfriend. His shadow was over me again, as he put another strip of tape on my sealed lips. Earphones were inserted in both my ears, and a phone was dropped on my lap. Music? Right now? What non-sense?

Well, it made sense. Because what played through the earphones was not music. It was the noise and sounds captured in the past hour. That of their kissing, my mmphing, and moaning. He had recorded it all and the same thing was now playing in my head making me relive the torment again. Between the noise there were a few moments of silence, and that is when I could hear them talking in hushed tones. Before I could focus enough to decipher the conversation another moan or squeal would erupt through the earphones again. It was all there, and my squeals and gagged speech were a contrast to their moans of ecstasy. What I felt listening to my own hampered speech was unbelievable. It was like angry cat stuck in the tree, squealing for help. And yet, for a micro-second, I felt good that it was sexy enough to turn him on. That idea turned me on even more. The helplessness, the frenzy, the struggle, the sounds in my ears. All that drove me crazy and made me wet down there.

After what felt like an eternity of halted silence, I felt the tape at my thighs and legs being cut off, while my hands and arms still remained taped up. The gag and blindfold remained too, as I was once again roughly lowered to the floor and packed into the golf bag again. Seemed like the woman had left, but she had forgotten her panties in my mouth, and her bra on my eyes. This was 10 times more uncomfortable than the handcuffs, and If he had allowed me to speak I would have requested him to untie me, and allow me to sit on the front seat with him. All this was uncalled for. If he wanted revenge, he should have told me straight away. And I would have probably agreed to sit quietly and watch, as he made out with another woman. After all, I had promised him that I would do as he asked for 24 hours.

Had he forgotten that a few months back, I had agreed to accompany him to a female strip club and let him have fun, while I sat there sipping wine. I called it Pervert Pleasure, and though it never really happened, yet the fact remained, that I had agreed to it then. I might have agreed to this now. What did he intend to achieve by all this? The rough treatment, tying me up, those soiled panties stuffed in my mouth, the bra-blindfold. Was humiliating me like this and hurting my self-respect, so easy for him?