Best Bondage Erotica 2 (15 page)

Though he is completely secured by his ankles, Tony’s arms are free. It took some time to get used to the personal restraint he has to show, not instantly cringing and flailing his arms when something happens. But he knows that Shane takes great pleasure in watching his eager bottom writhe under his firm and talented hand, and even greater pleasure—being a true Sadist through and through—in the fact that Tony has to control his own arms and hands while being tortured. So Tony learned to let the energy from the endorphins roll out in waves from his arms that lay flat on either side of his body, much like a gymnast would use them for balance, and only occasionally do they even grip at the flannel sheets when the urge to flail them becomes too great. He then stretches out his fingers, letting the release of control and the resulting energy fight any panic.

“Come on, baby. Don’t hold back, Tony. You know what I love the most. Make some noise, beautiful man.”

Shane’s deep brown eyes drill into his.

SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
up the underside of his right leg…

“AH…oh oown oown… AEE—”

Then quickly
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
down his left.

“AE AE AE… Aaaaaaaah… FUCK!”

SNAP!
sounds the crop on his right asscheek, then
SNAP!
on his left. Trying his best to breathe deep and full, readying for what is coming, he nonetheless holds his breath and bites down hard on his bottom lip when it comes.

As Shane crops his asshole the endorphin waves start to roll in earnest. Tony can only focus on specific details: the brilliant red color of the roses on the bedside table Shane had delivered to him this morning along with fresh pumpkin muffins and the Sunday paper; the silver and turquoise of the ring on his lover’s wide hand that firmly holds the shiny black riding crop now buzzing with so much psychic energy that it leaves colorful trails, as if he were doing acid; Shane’s full pink lips and brilliant white teeth as he sneers and smiles to show his pure pleasure and enjoyment.

Tony takes a long, deep breath. He smells the wet houseplants, the roses, the newsprint from the Sunday paper. He smells Shane, whose body gives off a scent like no other when excited and relieving Sadistic urges or delivering pleasure. And he smells himself: his funky, sweaty feet; his own acidic scent that comes with pain and pleasure; and he smells his own asshole. His own asshole’s ripe and consuming scent—though he would never admit it to anyone but his lover Shane—that turns him on immensely.

He tries to lift his ass higher, but the position leaves very little movement capability.

“That’s it, love. Who’s my ass slut? Come on…tell me. Tell me!”

“I am!”

“What do you feel?”

His body heats up, every inch of his skin crackling with electricity, his asshole awash in sensations he is unable to clearly describe. And Shane knows he has difficulty defining it, which gives him even more pleasure in asking him to.

“Baby, I need you. Please fuck me. Now…please… Don’t make me talk, fuck me, I can’t—”

Shane lays the crop on the bed next to Tony’s head, and dips his face to Tony’s aching asshole, lapping and tonguing the hot pucker, and groaning deeply like a hungry beast over its kill. He then floats—or so it seems to Tony from his position—off the bed. He gently picks up Buffy and places him in the hall, closing the door. He then lifts, from its hook on the wall, the soft leather blindfold and fits it over Tony’s head.

And while Buffy whines and meows many hours too early for his dinner outside their bedroom door, Tony hears the familiar sound of the bottle of lube opening, then feels the cool wetness as it’s squeezed into his still hot and stinging asshole. All other sensations melt away when he feels his lover’s thick cockhead begin to probe; all is now focused on his asshole and Shane’s hard cock. And as the cock slides in, slowly but without any hesitation, his vision of blackness behind the blindfold soon explodes into bright white.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Doneshia and Chavale were almost there. They cut through a lot with grass growing up through cracks in its pavement and strewn with broken glass and paper scraps. A cluster of idle men, languid, with bloodshot eyes from too much drink, leaned against the dented, rusted cars that sat in the center.
Damn cars been here forever
, Doneshia thought.

“Aay, come over here a minute!” one man yelled.

Doneshia took Chavale’s hand. “We ain’t interested!” she yelled back.

One more block of apartment buildings until Chicago Avenue. The one on the corner was abandoned, but you could often hear faint voices inside.

“Come on, girl!” Doneshia said to Chavale as they crossed Chicago.

Tyrell was on the other side standing with Reigus and Mike.

“Hey, Ty,” Doneshia said, pulling Chavale close to her.

“Hey, where y’all goin’?” asked Tyrell.

“To the store.”

“Why don’t you give me a couple dollars? I’ll pay you back.”

“I ain’t givin’ you shit! You always askin’ for money.”

Tyrell looked at Chavale. “Well, damn, you got any money, baby?”

Reigus and Mike laughed. Doneshia nudged Chavale’s side and Chavale stood quiet.

“Why don’t she talk? She dumb or somethin’?” Reigus asked.

“I don’t know, but she fine as hell ain’t she? What’s your name, shorty?” Mike asked.

“Her name is Chavale and she don’t want your funky ass!” Doneshia yelled, grabbing Chavale’s arm. “Fuck y’all, we gone!”

“Go get me a pop and a bag a them chips I like,” Doneshia ordered Chavale once inside the store. “Walk slow so I can check that ass.”

Chavale smiled shyly, looking over at the Chinese man behind the register, wondering if he had heard. She strolled over to the aisle swinging her generous behind under a snug, short skirt. When she got to the chips, she bent over slowly, reaching for a bag on the bottom shelf. She turned to look at Doneshia, who smiled wickedly at the sight of her tight cheeks peeking out from under the hem. Then Doneshia pointed at the sodas. Chavale held the bag of chips in her hand and sashayed over to the fridge. After they’d paid for the snacks and left the store, they continued on to Doneshia’s parents’ apartment.

Doneshia had first met Chavale when they were both sixteen, in high school. It was 95 degrees and Doneshia had been sitting in the back of the class, ignoring the teacher, fanning her dark, chubby body with her papers. In walked Chavale, the new girl. Every boy in class stared at the pale-brown beauty with the wavy, black hair, and so did Doneshia. But
when Chavale took her seat, she gazed at Doneshia, oblivious to the other stares. Even at sixteen, Doneshia knew she’d fuck her.

Now Doneshia was twenty-two and out of the closet with Christian parents who didn’t approve of her homosexuality. But they were gone for the day. She’d sneak Chavale in, like she always did, and they wouldn’t know a damn thing.

“Go stand in my bedroom,” Doneshia ordered.

“Can I have some chips?” Chavale asked.

“I didn’t say you could speak. You speak when I tell you to.”

Chavale put her hands on her hips. “This game don’t make no sense!” she shouted.

“Look, girl, you open your mouth again and you’ll see what you get!”

Chavale looked at the floor, hesitated a moment, and then slunk into the bedroom.

Doneshia smirked. “That’s right—go on in there.” She carried the soda and the bag of chips and followed behind Chavale, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

“Take them clothes off nice and slow and I want you to look at me when you do it.”

Chavale blushed, with a shy smile, her face also flushed with heat. Doneshia felt that same heat between her legs.

The shoes came off first and then Chavale removed her skirt. She wore no panties and she was shaven. Doneshia had done it, even though Chavale protested the entire time. “I ain’t tryin’ to fight through all that damn hair,” Doneshia had announced as she glided the razor over Chavale’s pubes. Now, when Chavale pulled her top off, her large bare breasts bounced in freedom.

Doneshia looked at Chavale’s naked body in silence for a moment. “That’s nice, real nice,” she said softly. “You can talk now. You want some chips?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, mister.”

“Say ‘yes, mistress.’ I ain’t no mister!”

“I’m sorry—yes, mistress.”

“That’s better. Now come over here and get some.”

Chavale hurried over to Doneshia. “Open your mouth,” Doneshia ordered.

Chavale opened her mouth and Doneshia pulled a chip out of the bag and placed it gently onto Chavale’s tongue. She munched on it slowly, staring into Doneshia’s eyes.

“Pop?” Doneshia asked.

“Yes, mistress.”

She opened the bottle and placed it against Chavale’s lips. Chavale took a sip and then Doneshia lost control and pulled Chavale close, pushing her hand into her fleshy ass, kissing her hungrily on the lips. Chavale ground her pubic bone and pressed her generous breasts against Doneshia’s plump body. But then Doneshia pushed Chavale off.

“That’s enough!” Doneshia said. “Now sit down!” Chavale sighed and slumped onto the bed.

Doneshia walked over to her closet and opened it. Chavale watched as she rummaged for something way in the back. She emerged with a sealed brown box.

“What you get?” Chavale asked.

“It’s somethin’ I ordered off the Internet,” Doneshia said as she placed the box on the bed, pulling the tape off. “My momma almost opened this shit. It came when I wasn’t home.” She reached into the box and pulled several items out.

Chavale’s brown eyes grew wide. “What’s that?”

“They hoods. We puttin’ ’em on.”

“I ain’t wearin’ that!” Chavale said, rolling her eyes in defiance.

“What you mean you ain’t wearin’ it? You do what I say, remember?”

“They scary lookin’.”

“No they ain’t. This the one I wear and this the one you wear, ’cause you my slave.”

“I ain’t no slave!”

“Hush!” Doneshia shouted. “Now put it on like I tell you to!”

“Yes, mistress!” Chavale said sarcastically.

Doneshia shot her a look and Chavale lowered her head.

“Say it and mean it,” Doneshia commanded.

“Yes, mistress.”

“Good, now put it on.”

“How?”

“What you mean, how? Just put the shit on!” Doneshia took her own black hood and pulled it over her head. There were holes in the leather for her eyes, and the front of the mask stopped above her nose and mouth, allowing her to breathe freely.

Chavale giggled and then put her hands over her mouth.

“Stop laughing, girl,” Doneshia said, trying to suppress her own laugh. “Put it on.”

“It smells funny,” Chavale said as she pulled her hood over her face. Hers was similar to Doneshia’s, except that her eyes were covered.

“That’s ’cause the leather’s new, that’s all.”

“I don’t like this. I can’t see nothin’.”

“I don’t want you to see. Now lie on the bed and don’t talk.”

Doneshia returned to her closet and searched around again.

Chavale sat up abruptly. “What you fixin’ to do?”

“I’m gonna put somethin’ over your mouth if you don’t shut up, girl.”

Doneshia walked back over to her bed holding four short pieces of clothesline. She grabbed one of Chavale’s hands and started to tie it to the headboard.

“What you…?”

“Hush!” Doneshia shouted.

Chavale kept quiet as Doneshia tied her other hand and her feet to the bed. Then Doneshia climbed on top of her. She put her lips against Chavale’s neck and felt a vein there throbbing with nervousness and anticipation. The sight of Chavale wearing a hood made Doneshia gush. Just like the pictures on the Internet, this turned her on. As soon as she got some more money, she’d order more stuff. She liked this game.

Doneshia ran her tongue down Chavale’s neck and to her breasts until it danced over her large nipples. Chavale moaned.

“Shhh,” Doneshia said.

Then Doneshia pushed her face into Chavale’s stomach, sticking her tongue in and out of her navel. This made Chavale giggle, but this time Doneshia didn’t quiet her. She brought her tongue to Chavale’s mound and Chavale squirmed and bucked. She knew what Chavale wanted. She wanted it too.

“You can talk again,” Doneshia said. “Who do you love?”

“You,” Chavale said. “I love you.”

Doneshia flicked her tongue at Chavale’s hard clit. Her juices were so heavy they were smeared along the insides of her thighs. Her sweet musk permeated the room. Doneshia was wet too. By now her panties and even her pants were soaked. But she kept her clothes on.

“What you want me to do, eat your cootchie?”

“Yes!”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, mistress.”

Doneshia dived into Chavale’s cunt. With the girl’s folds
shaven, Doneshia could get right to what she wanted. She licked furiously at Chavale as Chavale opened her legs wide, struggling with the clothesline.

“Oooooh, mistress!” Chavale screamed.

Doneshia pulled her wet face out of Chavale’s cunt and grinned. “That’s right, baby, I’m your mistress!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Mercedes eased to the curb somewhere deep in San Francisco’s industrial underbelly. The purr of its engine died away. Tatters of newspaper hopped and skidded under the glare of a single sputtering streetlamp.

I nervously raised an eyebrow. “Where’s the club?”