1: Daydreamer
"Now then… Not a bird after all, eh?"
I don't recognise his voice. Or maybe… I dunno. He sounds drunk. I can't see with the blindfold, but would I even recognise him if I saw his face?
"You really did all this to yourself, didn't you, you little perv."
He really knows how to push my buttons, whoever he is. I should be scared. This stranger just broke into my house! Why aren't I more scared? Instead, I feel embarrassed; I really did do this to myself. I feel ashamed; I really am a pervert. It's all so… God, why is it so arousing!
"Hello there, little fella," I feel his finger tap my vibrating penis, ever so lightly. I almost orgasm on the spot. I hear a quiet chuckle, "sorry mate, you want to cum, you'll have to earn it first." My heart sinks. The vibrator stops.
He pushes his fingers under the straps of my gag, and pulls the pink rubber ball from my mouth, trailing saliva down my chin. I want to say something, I SHOULD say something… But I can't find the words.
"Tell me to stop." His hand is strangely gentle on my cheek. His thumb taunts my lips, smearing my lipstick. "You want me to leave?" The thumb probes at my mouth, trying to drag my lips open. "Tell me to leave."
I imagine he's dangerous. I imagine he's a monster. This is so messed up. Just say the words. You don't want this. Right? I imagine he has a knife. Just tell him to leave. He might actually go. I imagine he stays. I imagine he hurts me.
"Come on!" He almost sounds like he's pleading, "just ask me to leave," like he actually wants me to send him away.
I imagine him leaving…
"Please." I finally force the words out of my mouth. "Don't," my voice is quiet, shaking. "Don't… leave."
His voice relaxes. "Yeah. That's what I thought." His voice is cold. "Open your fuckin' mouth."
Before
The previous owners took the curtains with them. I keep meaning to replace them. The living room window faces out onto a main road, so pedestrians, passing cars, people in the houses across the street, they could see right inside. Sometimes I imagine them looking in and seeing me tied up, doing something perverted. God, that'd be so embarrassing.
The first time I tied myself up in that house, it was 4am, and I sat right under the window, tight against the wall. No one was going to pass by at that time. And even if someone walked right up to the window and looked in, they wouldn't have been able to see me. But the idea of it… imagining it could happen, imagining that it DID happen.
But I knew that I was safe. I knew no-one was going to see me. And that was the problem. I got more daring, more dangerous. I needed the thrill of the threat. I started playing my games earlier, moving deeper into the room, making myself more visible to the outside world.
This one time, I hogtied myself dead centre of the living room. Around 2:00 am. I heard laughter, a group of women. Maybe a hen-do passing by. I imagined one of them spotting me. They gather round my window, and they're looking at me all naked and exposed. I imagine they're laughing at me. I imagine the flash of their cameras.
The bondage, the vibrators, they get me close. But it's the fantasies that finish me off.
1:00 am, I tie myself to a chair at the far end of the room. I imagine leaving the front door unlocked. I imagine wearing a sign that says "come in and fuck me." And I imagine her, I imagine this woman, she climbs up on the chair. She holds my head, and she pushes my face into her pussy. And I can't fight it. She doesn't let me fight it. She won't let me orgasm until I've made her orgasm first. She won't untie me until she's satisfied. I'm her prisoner, and I have to do what she wants me to do.
She doesn't give me a choice.
I had this rough week at work, and I needed something to take my mind off it. I needed something intense. I hung a key from a chain over the living room window, on a split ring.
I got undressed. I put on a chastity cage. I inserted a fluffy, dog-tail butt plug. I wore a dog collar, and a bone-shaped gag, both locked in place with small padlocks. I wore cuffs on my wrists and my ankles. The keys to the cage, and the padlocks, and the cuffs were all in a locked box in my bedroom. The only way to get them back - to set myself free - was to retrieve the key that was hanging over the living room window. To stand up, naked, in bondage, in full view of the outside world. It was 12:30am.
I started in my bedroom, and forced myself to crawl like a dog to my goal. Awkwardly, cautiously I backed down the stairs. So far so good. Then rising up on my knees, with my hands held together, I pulled the living room door open. I froze. It was just now sinking in what I'd done, what I was about to do - and that I didn't have a choice if I wanted to get free.
I glanced out, careful to stay out of sight. The windows across the street all had their curtains drawn, most had their lights off. Every few minutes, headlights would flash by. But they were passing fast enough that they probably wouldn't notice me; and if they did, they probably wouldn't know what they were seeing. I sat for a while, my eyes fixed on the pavement, like a loyal guard dog - until I'd convinced myself no-one would walk by. And I stood.
My heart was pounding a thunderous beat that made my whole body shake. I'd gone too far this time. Too reckless. I was exposing myself to the world in this shameful state, and I had no other choice. God, my penis was pushing against the chastity cage with all its might, and there was nothing I could do about it. Not until I got that key.
My fidgeting was wagging my stupid tail like an excited puppy. It was so embarrassing! I imagine the woman across the street looks out of her window. I imagine she knocks on my door the next day. I imagine she has photos. I imagine she has demands.
My fingers were trembling. I could barely get a grip of the key ring. I tried to slide my finger nail into the split ring, so that I could get the key free, but it kept slipping. I'd messed up so bad. I couldn't get the key to budge. And the more I fumbled, the longer I was exposed. And I was starting to panic, which made my hands shake even more, in a vicious cycle.
Then I heard it - drunken singing, getting louder. Getting closer!
It sounded like one person, a guy. And he was singing a football chant, I think. I dropped to the ground, pushing myself tight against the wall, like I used to do. Nobody could see me, I was sure of it. I was pretty sure of it. I felt dizzy. What if he already saw me? This weird, naked… DOG-boy.
The singing was right outside my window. Had he… had he STOPPED? Was he looking in through the window?! It was too much. Too real. I felt like my penis was about to explode. No. He couldn't see me. There was no way he could see me. Oh God, why wasn't he singing anymore? Was he still there? How was I supposed to check without being seen!
I cowered there, hugging the wall, for what felt like an eternity. And when I finally crept up to peek through the window… just an empty street.
The first thing I unlocked was the chastity cage. God, it was the most intense orgasm I ever had.
Today
It wasn't until the clocks went back, that I realised something important.
See, in cop shows, when they show interrogation scenes, the interrogation room is brightly lit, and the observers are in an adjacent room, in the dark. That's how two-way mirrors work, the dark room makes the window act like a mirror for the bright room.
So when I got home from work, in the dark, and I saw myself reflected in the living room window as I walked up to the front door, I realised - the bright streetlight near the front of my house meant I was basically invisible to the outside world, even without curtains.
That was when I had a really bad idea. Because the only way you can see through a two-way mirror is if you get right up against the glass… or if you turn a light on inside the dark room.
I dress in a pink, pleated skirt; thigh-high, stripey socks; no panties. I wear a choker, and a pink, baby tee, with the word 'slut' in glitter cursive (God, I'm so cringe). And I finish the look with pink lipstick, and a pink wig.
There's a standing lamp, in the far corner of the living room. I kneel under it.
I have my toys prepared. First the ball gag (pink, obviously). Then I use a rubber cock ring to press a vibrator against my already stiff penis. I try to cover it with the way-too-short skirt, but it keeps pushing its way free - like it wants to be seen.
I move my feet behind the lamp, and cuff them there. There's a safety latch on the cuffs, so technically I can let myself out any time I want. But I challenge myself to stay there until I orgasm. No matter what.
I blindfold myself to protect my eyes from the bright LED light, shining right above me. It also means I won't see if someone walks by, so I can't chicken out. By now, I've started to notice patterns in the movements outside my window; the same shapes passing by at the same times, like clockwork. If I don't orgasm quick, one of those shapes is sure to find me.
It's midnight.
I turn on the vibrator at a low speed. Enough to tease, but if I want to orgasm - if I want to orgasm FAST - I'll have to work for it. I turn on the lamp. I pull my hands behind my back, and loop the hand cuff chain around the ankle cuff chain. And I squeeze the cuff closed around my wrist.
Oh jeez, I've really done it this time. Now I really am on display, like some perverted art installation, 'Spotlight on Deviant, in Pink'. Here to be pursued by a curious public.
The vibrations feel so nice.
Now
"Don't you dare fuckin' bite me."
I don't know what I'm doing. I've never given a blow job before. And he's so big! My teeth keep accidentally brushing his penis. I try my best, but it's kinda hard to do with your eyes closed and your hands behind your back. I keep losing him. But mostly I'm just trying to keep my balance.
"Aww, yeah, that's good… You've done this before, haven't you, slut."
He holds my head with both hands. I feel my wig slipping. He's gripping me so tight, holding my head still while he makes love to my mouth. His penis bounces against the back of my mouth, and I can't help making these lewd sounds. Ugh, this is so embarrassing. I'm so gross.
He takes his penis out of my mouth. He lets go of my head, and I hear a slapping sound, and he's breathing heavily, and he lifts my chin, and oh God, is he about to…
"Fuck… I'm going to cum on your face. Tell me you want my cum on your face."
"Please…" Don't say it. "C-cum…" Don't say it! "…in my mouth."
"Ah… fuck, you… fuckin'…" His sperm hits my tongue. It splashes messily around my mouth, on my chin. I even feel some hit my forehead. God, this is so humiliating. I'm dressed up like a girl, and I have another man's sperm in my mouth - and I asked for it! What the heck is wrong with me? He shoves his penis back in my mouth and says "go on, get every last drop." Why is this turning me on so much? "Yeah, good girl." Why am I like this!
He pushed the ball gag back into my mouth. Some of his sperm gets squeezed out of the sides of my mouth, and drips down my cheeks. Most of it gets pushed to the back of my tongue. I think about swallowing it, but the gag has my tongue pinned down.
I hear his footsteps moving about, getting quieter, moving around the house. Is he… is he going to burglarise me? After he just did… that? I start to panic, start feeling for the safety latch on my cuffs. His footsteps come back, and I freeze. He roughly pulls my baby tee up to my neck. I feel him scratching at my chest, or… no, writing?
The vibrator turns back on, and he says "well earned," and he pats me on the head. Then the door closes, and I'm alone again. Like the whole thing was some messed up dream. Just another one of my perverted fantasies.
But I can still taste him on my tongue.
Later
me: hi, i'm brett
me: from last night
Darren: (✓read)
me: can we talk?
Darren: (·…)
Darren: (.·.)
Darren:
Darren: (…·)
Darren:
Darren: pub?
This is his regular, he says. The Dog and Pony. His walk home just happens to go past my house.
"Your window always caught my eye, you know? 'Cause it's the only one on that street without curtains. I used to think it was abandoned or something."
Sometimes he meets friends here. But his friends have wives and girlfriends; some even have children. Sometimes he drinks alone. We find a quiet corner, and he tells me about this one time, a few months ago, when he "won 50 quid on the fruit machine". He's avoiding the subject. I have to force him.
"Yeah, I was gettin' to that. So as I was sayin', it was my lucky night. And as I'm going past your house, I have myself a cheeky peek, yeah? And I see this… naked… you, I guess. And you had, like, a tail? And there was all this metal and shit."
He doesn't look like what I was imagining when I was blindfolded. A little rough around the edges, but not exactly ugly. I'm not sure if that's a relief. He might even look handsome, with a little self-care. But he doesn't seem like the type.
"And I kept catching these glimpses, like almost regular. Until it got too dark to see anything. But then last night, I see that light, and I see you - like, properly see you for the first time - and it's like, fuckin'… some shit I dreamed about. But in real life! Except, erm… I didn't know you were a bloke."
As he's talking, I idly rest my hand on my chest; over where he wrote his name and number. I didn't want to wash it off. It feels… I dunno, meaningful? Like he claimed me. Like he marked me as… Oh God, I can feel myself blushing.
"Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you."
"No, it's…" I can't tell him. That'd be too much. "Go on."
"So yeah, I'm looking at you, and it's too fuckin' perfect. And I get it in my head… you know, with the light… I'm thinking… It sounds fuckin' stupid now, but I was thinking, like, you wanted me to come in? I mean, I was pretty pissed, to be fair. But it made a fucked up kind of sense, you know? So I'm like, okay, just try the door. 'Cause obviously it's gonna be locked, right? And that'll be the end of it."
Suddenly my throat feels very dry.
"But it wasn't locked," he says.
I take a big gulp of my coke, and almost choke when the bubbles hit my throat.
"You alright?"
I nod, coughing and trying to catch my breath.
He goes quiet for a moment. Then he says "I'm not… gay. Just so you know." I can't tell if he's being serious. It almost sounds like an apology.
I let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah," I say, "me neither." But then, I'm not so sure if I'm being serious either.
We sit there in that uncomfortable silence for a while, taking awkward sips and avoiding each other's eyes, until our glasses are dry.
"So, er…" he finally breaks the silence. "Another round?"