© Copyright 2006 - The Third Thane - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbf; fantasy; cons; X
It was a quiet Thursday evening. Work had been light that day, so Justine had a chance to go home early. She had a purpose in mind. A package that had come UPS last Saturday weighed heavily on her thoughts, in excited anticipation. Most of her self bondage sessions were on Friday nights, with more time to plan and savor. This, this simply could not wait. It had to be tonight. Her new toy needed a genuine road-test.
Like all of her other sessions, this one would be as her secret heroine identity Dangerous Leigh. She had amassed an impressive DVD library of herself as a damsel in distress. Unlike other bondage artists, she was devoted to the peril aspect of her desire. Especially the sexual peril. Stimulation, even humiliation, was indispensable to the fantasy. After all, what would the Joker really want to do to Batgirl while she was tied up? Dangerous Leigh was the guardian of her fair city. The “Deuce” was her arch enemy. This time he would raise the stakes…or was he lowering them?
Justine drove into her garage at just after 4:30. She parked her car, then gently caressed the hood of her Barracuda in the next garage bay. Not this time girl. Inside she showered and had a quick dinner. This night she would again fall into his clutches of the Deuce and his henchmen. She would be naked, with the exception of her knee-high white vinyl boots. A mandatory potty-break, and she was ready for the nights games. The clock read 5:30. Perfect. Her beautiful naked form descended the wooden cellar steps of her rowhouse.
In the center of the room, Justine had bolted a steamer trunk to the floor. The trunk was squared, not curved. It was wooden, the type with broad metal bands across the lid. All of her equipment was arranged. She had screwed metal rings and “I” bolts at strategic locations into the trunk, permitting her to secure herself in almost any position. On this occasion, she would kneel next to the side, and tie herself chest down on the lid. The butterflies in her stomach jumped. A single light bulb shot jagged shadows into the edges of the cellar.
“Well, let’s get started”, she thought to herself. Justine picked up a thick leather belt, and locked it around her waist. The strap had “D” rings attached in the back and sides. She buckled a narrower leather collar around her neck. It too had several metal rings. She tied a spreader bar between her thighs just above her knees. The bar was fashioned from two feet of broom pole. She cuffed her ankles with leg-irons, modified with only six inches of chain. She then locked the spreader bar to the side of the trunk, across the bottom. This forced her to kneel against the wood with her legs splayed apart. Her naked pussy and ass were defenseless. She bent forward.
Next, Justine tied rope from the rings on both side of her belt to bolts screwed into the front and back of the trunk. She pulled hard before knotting the ropes out of reach. The roped pinned her waist snugly to the lid of the trunk. Within reach on the floor were additional necessities. She picked up a pair of her black panties that she had earlier retrieved from the dirty laundry. The crotch was moist, the scent was vaguely Red Lobster. She wadded the panties and pushed them deep into her mouth. She applied pre-cut strips of industrial duct tape across her mouth, then to her whole lower face. 8 long strips insured that even she could not dislodge the lacey load. She then strung rope through a ring on her neck collar, tying it to the handle on the side of the trunk below her head. The eight inch rope was not tight, but prevented her from raising her head above level of the trunk lid. She shot a quick look to insure all was in its in order. Her video camera sat humming on its tripod, burning three hours of bondage and peril. She tied a scarf over her eyes. Wound several times, the silken blindfold blocked out all light. Now to finish.
From the floor, Justine picked up her Smith & Wesson handcuffs. Reaching back, she threaded the cuffs through the center ring of her belt. Two quick ratchets, and her wrists were locked to the small of her back. As always, cuff keys were attached to a precisely measured string, and would drop to within reach with the melting of ice. She had measured the ice for two hours, but it was an inexact science. As she snuggled into the trunk lid, she mentally switched, becoming Dangerous Leigh. She was captured, tied by the Deuce’s men. One goon worried her most of all. Gagged, no one would hear her pitiful calls for help. Nothing to do now but wait, wait for whatever evil was planned. Wait for her friend to awaken.
Oh…did she skip the part about her friend??
Usually, Leigh was tied with a vibrator to excite her pussy. Not this time. Not since her toy had arrived. The UPS driver left it on the steps. She was surprised by the weight of the box. She had ordered the fiendish device from an internet site. It was a polished sex machine, a massive piston along a thick varnished piece of wood. The piston was driven by a powerful electric motor. The machine had a plate-size flywheel, providing smooth operation and enabling the piston stroke to be adjusted. So said the manual. A dial controlled speed. The manufacturer christened the machine “Ming the Merciless 2”. She chuckled, the first Ming must have been a touch too merciful.
Justine mounted one of her life-like dildos to the piston arm. Wing nuts secured the machine to a wooden table top, the table bottom heavily weighted with sandbags. The entire assembly was positioned behind the trunk, tied at the base to the spreader bar between her legs. It could not be moved back. She had set the piston for a 4 inch stroke. She dialled in 120 strokes per minute, two strokes per second. All of this preparation was now poised behind Leigh’s bound body, ready to make love doggy style. To prevent any missed strokes, the dildo already entered her one inch at the far end of the arms path. This made for a 5 inch assault when the machine started. Leigh waited. What cruelties did the Deuce had instore. She had a good guess. Leigh could feel the first inch of the dildo. It was ready to thrust, but not into her pussy.
No, the dildo poked its nose into the first inch of her perfect ass. This took some careful maneuvering as she tied herself to the trunk. Justine had never had anal sex, her ex-husband far too prudish to indulge. She had tried “Ming” out in her pussy briefly after opening the box. But this was a first. Neither Justine nor Dangerous Leigh had ever been taken in this dark manner. Leigh waited, the machine silent. Ming was plugged into a timer, one of those that switches your lights on during vacation. It was set to start in 15 minutes, and then run for 10 minutes. A second run would last for 20 minutes before she was released. She would have anal sex twice in 2 hours, that should be enough introduction. Ming waited. KY jelly on the dildo felt cold on her cheeks.
The machine launched forward. This was no gentle entry by a loving partner. There was no gradual increase of passion. The piston shot 5 inches inside from the first moment. It immediately started its assault, 2 times every second. Leigh’s whole body tensed. The bindings all pulled tight taut. Her pain was intense, the tightness overwhelming. The thrust, thrust was so unnatural. Her body rebelled; she kicked her boots at nothing but floor. The KY jelly was going to ease the pain, but maybe it wasn’t working. She felt the dildo being roughly pushed and filling her whole body. She had made a big mistake. Was this the way it was supposed to feel?!
She instinctively tried to look back at her tormentor, despite the total darkness of her blindfold. The rope tied to her collar pulled taut. Her cuffed hands clutched at air, then balled into two fists. A scream was muffled through the mound of tape and soaked panties. She tried pushing herself forward on the trunk, trying to escape the thrusting, all to no avail. Thrust, thrust, thrust. It jammed into her very being. “10 minutes,” Leigh thought, “I’ll never last 10 minutes. That fucking thing will tear me apart.” She struggled back and forth, desperate for slack, for distance. The ropes securing her waist and neck had no play. Thrust, thrust, thrust. Ming sounded like a steam locomotive driving uphill. She yelled again, angry at herself. She pulled up on her handcuffs, hearing the kiss of metal to metal. Thrust, thrust, it hurt so. How long could this go on?
A warm ember started churning deep in her loins, a feeling reserved for her sweet pussy. At first, she was too distracted by pain to notice, but soon it demanded attention. She could feel it in her calves and thighs, then into her sculpted stomach muscles. The realization startled her. “Christ,” Leigh thought, “I’m starting to cum!” The feeling built in intensity, far more slowly than a normal fucking. Leigh pulled hard on her neck collar, shaking her head and hair. Still it was building, but only a little with each cursed thrust. When would it stop, when would she peak? Her heavy breathes fell into rhythm with her lover’s shaft. Her ears filled with the sounds of his whirling wheel and his metallic grunts. Stroke, after stroke, he forced inside her, pushing all other feelings out of his path. She pushed on the spreader bar, fighting to close her legs. She couldn’t budge.
“Please, just come already!!” she pleaded to herself. The control she had with her pussy wasn’t there. Still the fire built. Thrust, thrust, thrust up her tight virgin ass. Harder, harder, she mumbled into the tape. Her face became flush. Thrust upon thrust. “God please…YES!” She bit fiercely into her panties when she came with a thunderous spasm. She grabbed for her ass, trying to pull her cheeks wider. She came with abandon, writhing in her bonds, head thrashing. It felt like no other orgasm of her life, her box oddly empty and wet, her ass sore and tingling. She moaned staccato into her gag, but Ming gave no permission for her orgasm to stop. He built it up slowly, and now clung to his iron control. Her fingers stretched and again formed fists. The pain, the force into her body, the molten desire, they simply wouldn’t die. She could not stop shaking. Her neck chaffed from the collar as she still pulled. Ragged cries filled the cellar. Her body burned from within.
CLICK, and off. Her blood still coursed inflamed when Ming casually clicked off, like an indifferent, cold bastard. The piston ceased, halting with half the dildo still impaling her raw hole. She could not move off. Leigh’s body went limp, exhausted, her head hanging over the side of the trunk. She felt her own juices running hot down her leg. She let out a great, staggered breath. What had she done? Her mind got fuzzy at the edges.