Two Bound

The Visit




Answering a knock on the front door at your apartment, you see a strange man,
someone you have never seen before. He quietly hands you an envelope....even
from a quick gaze at the envelope, you recognize my handwriting...the words, my
command, simply stated: "Open this now".

Inside that envelope is a handwritten note from me. "Do whatever he says," are
my written words. "I have hired him, to get you ready for me. Trust me, my
love, he will not hurt you. He knows I would hurt him...greatly...if he ever
hurt you. So you can trust him. Do whatever he says, and I will be there,
soon."

Only understanding our relationship----I, your Master and lover, and you, my
sweet submissive lady---can give those words their true meaning. And with that
relationship, you have learned and know to obey my words, without hesitation or
reservation.

You find yourself, almost instinctively, as if hearing my voice speaking those
words, backing away from the doorway, letting him enter. He hands you a small
black box...and says quietly, forcefully but almost with no emotion...

"The garments inside this box, put them on."

Stepping through the doorway, he closes the door behind him, and stands, quiet
and still, just inside the door to your apartment, as you quickly disappear
into the bedroom, the black box in your hands. He waits, with the patience of
a man who know his task, and what he will need to do to complete that task.

Moments later, you return and face him. The look on your face, once near panic
when you saw him at the door, has changed, to a quiet resignation that you will
do whatever you are told at that moment. The outfit you now wear is all in
white...the white, nearly sheer stockings, the white...also nearly
sheer...gloves, covering from your fingers to above your elbows. The
bustier...also in a white, the material hiding just enough to tantalize.

He points back to the bedrom. You find yourself, almost instinctively,
following his silent instructions, as if they are instructions from me. The
years of our relationship, the d/s liftestyle, control nearly your every action
and reaction. He slowly follows you into the room, carrying with him a black
bag. I know you think that you have seen than bag before. Your mind races,
bordering between panic and excitement; did he have he have the bag with him,
in his hands, when he walked into the apartment? Just as quickly, you realized
that it reminds you of ~~our~~ toy bag. Perhaps, you think, just perhaps it
contains some of the same toys. Perhaps it is ~~~our~~~ toy bag.

From that black bag, he removes a ballgag...a white rubber ballgag with white
leather straps. Slowly, he reaches towards you, the ballgag in his hand, with
his next spoken instruction:

"put this on, tightly."

I can see you, hesistating at first, then remembering my instructions to you,
taking the ballgag from him. Slowly you lick your lips to moisten them, hoping
to ease the rubber ball into your mouth, then placing it deeply inside your
mouth. It is not an easy fit; it fills your mouth completely. You finish your
task by reaching around your head to fasten the straps at the nape of your neck
.

You...and he...notice that the pace of your breathing has started to increase,
and deepen.

Placing the black bag on the ground he then walks towards you, now standing
barely inches away from you. Your mind begins to race, wondering, as you feel
his breath on your body. He reaches towards you, then places his hands around
your head. Your body gets tense, for that brief moment, until you realize that
his actions are to just check the straps. Not content with the tightness of
the gag, he tightens it another two notches, removing any slack that you left
(perhaps intentionally?) in the gag.

Satisfied that the gag is tightly in place, he utters his next instruction.

"Sit on the bed, and place your legs across each other, yoga style. Then lock
your hands, palm to palm, behind you."

Though your nevousness increases, you trust in me, and in the message on
my note that he will not hurt you. With that, you follow his orders and wait.

Your eyes follow him as he walks around the bed, and ends up standing behind
you. He kneels on the bed and quickly takes hold of your wrists. From
somwhere---I know you are not sure where but guess at the black bag---appears
in his hands a length of white cord. With the speed of an expert, he makes a
loop of the cord and wraps that loop--and the rest of the white rope--around
your wrists, holding them in place. I know that you will quickly test your
bonds....you always do...but you find that that they will not give. He does
his work well; I have paid him to do that work well.

As he slides off of the bed, and walks to the front, your eyes continue to
watch him.

Another length of soft white cord, this time a very long piece, comes from the
black bag. He stands in front of you, leans down, and continues his task;
after tying your ankles together in their cross/yoga position, he wraps the
remaining length of rope up and around around each big toe. Then, with quick
movements, he leans towards you and slides the rope behind you, around your
body, behind you, circling your arms and pulling your elbows together. He
completes his task, sliding the soft white rope up and around your shoulders
and, finally, ties it in place behind your neck. Perhaps a complex bondage,
but surely an efficient one.

You again test the ropes as I know you will; nothing moves. He does his work
well. And from your tender lips comes only a soft, murmuring sound. The ball
gag also does its job well.

A low comment, almost a whisper, comes from him: "I was told that you were not
to be
able to get loose. I have accomplished my first goal." First goal?????? I
know those two words echo in your mind.

He quickly...firmly...places his hands on your shoulders, and slowly lowers
your
back to the bed. Your legs, tied as they are in the lotus position, move, lift
with your body. You suddenly realize that the most tender portion of your
anatomy is almost exposed. Two small snaps on your outfit are the only
protection.

You trust in my words; at this moment, you have to. Looking at you, the man
utters these words:

"I know what you are thinking. He told me how you would react. Remember his
words."

That is all that he says, the words both forceful, and comforting, if only a
little. He unsnaps the two snaps, exposing you to him. Perhaps it is the
exposure; perhaps it is the fact that you are already wet. But for whatever
reason, you begin to blush, drawing a smile on his face.

"Just a moment longer, and I will be done with my second and final task," he
says.
Second task????? Those words, echo in your mind not far from the first words.

From that mysterious black bag comes a vibrator, in the shape of a dildo, with
a flat
rubber base. As he looks into your eyes, he realizes that you need to have
~~that~~ question answered.

"Yes, it will be on. But it has a small timer, turning it on, then shutting it
off. He has already timed it so that you will be ready for him when he
arrives. But it will not be on long enough for you to be satisfied without
him."

The man knows what he has said, what I have been planned for you. And that
grin
of his almost becomes an evil grin. As your body accepts the invader between
your legs--accepts it easy enough that he, and you, know that you are already
ready for me--the flat base prevents it from going in any further, as if it
could. In a quick movement, he resnaps the two snaps, covering that portion of
you that now does not want covered but instead wants attention...my attention.
The man reaches towards you, quickly takes hold of your shoulders and returns
you to a sitting position.

Suddenly, and without warning, the vibrator goes on. Your moaning sound, from
behind the gag, tells him that it is working. But little more than seconds
later, the sound
of the vibrator ceases. Even bound as you are, you try to lift your body,
your hips, to make it turn back on, or to somehow make it move inside you. You
now realize that, as he said, you will not be satisfied, at least not without
my help, and that you will stay in a state of arousal until I arrive.

He turns away from you and walks, out of the bedroom, to the front door. He
remembers, as I instructed him, to check the lock on the front door to ensure
that the door is locked when he closes it. He later told me that a small sigh
came from behind your gag as he spoke, telling you that that no one except me
will come through that door. I am the only person, other than you, with a key
to that door.

As he leaves through the front door, and begins to pull the door closed behind
him, he turns back, looks into the bedroom at you, and utters these words:

"My job is now done. I have been well paid to do this job for him. When he
hired me to do this, he told of me your beauty, and of your total willingness
to follow his instructions, whatever they may be. I now understand what he has
said."

Looking back at you one, last time, he said:

"Your Master will, as he promised, be here......"

As the vibrator again turns on, and the front door is closed behind him, you
hope
that your mind is playing tricks with you as you hear what sounds to be his
last word:

"tomorrow."



===========================================================

It's near the end of what seemed like a very long work day, much longer than
normal. As I stare at the phone, wanting to call you, to hear the sound of
your voice, I know that there is no way that you can answer that phone call
even if you wanted to. By now, my grand experiment, the afternoon of teasing
and sweet torment for you and our evening of play as Master and sub, would
already have begun. As I look at the clock on my desk, a grin starts to grow
on my face. By now, you are probably ready and waiting for me.

I remember how it began.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

We had just finished one of our evening sessions of bondage, teasing,
torment, and, yes, satisfaction. I had fallen asleep; when I awoke, you were
still snuggled in my arms. As I slowly opened my eyes and looked down, I saw
you, looking back up at me. Those eyes of yours, now wide open, were speaking
to me when nothing else could. Your tender lips were still wrapped around
that white ballgag; the rubber ball, deep inside your mouth, held in place by
the white leather strap fastened at the nape of your neck. The only sound
coming from behind that ball is the soft sound of moaning. I love that sound;
it says so much more than a dictionary of words could ever say.

Feeling your firm breasts pressing against me, I remember, with a chuckle, that
there is nothing else that you can do. Your arms are still tied tightly, your
wrists bound palm to palm and your elbows tied, touching. The effect of
tying your elbows, making you thrust those tender breasts forward, has always
excited me. And it always will.

At least I had remembered, before our playtime, to untie your ankles. I had
to; the way you were tied when I came into the room, your ankles tied to your
thighs in a lotus position, and your body, your head, bent forward, I had two
choices. One was to rest you on your back, with your legs lifted into the air,
and to take you that way. The other choice, the one I preferred and the that
one I chose, was to untie the rope around your ankles, slowly and gently
remove that pesky little vibrator that had been doing its work between your
legs, and to take your body and your mind to new heights. Quick work with the
old trusty pocket knife removed the ropes. The rest of the rope, holding your
arms, and your elbows, tightly together, and that ballgag, stuffed deep inside
your mouth, would have to wait until later.

Untying your legs had permitted you, later as we slept, to rest your left leg,
and your thigh, across my midsection. As I continued to slowly awaken from
that pleasant sleep, I could still feel the moistness between your legs. A
soft, mischevious laugh would escape from my lips, as I remembered that it
takes only a little encouragement from me to get that soft little motor of
yours running again. I remember you once saying that all it takes is only two
words from me, those two words, to melt the infamous Ice Lady into puddles.
But that's a different story.

Looking down, into your eyes, I hear myself saying, "hello, my love." Your
response is that warm, soft humming sound and your body snuggling even closer
to mine. I can feel your nipples, once again springing to life and regaining
their hardness, pressing against my body. My left hand is wrapped around you,
holding you, my sweet lady, gently cradling your body next to mine, feeling the
warmth of your soft skin. I gently, and slowly, slide my right hand up and
down your body, from your side, down to your thigh, that soft, lucious thigh
that still rests across my body. I know that we could do it again, to once
again reach that state of nirvana for both of us. But the grin on my face
fades as I remember that I must leave. Yet again, that soft laugh, this time
perhaps even more mischevious, escapes from my lips as I think about that the
plans that I have for you.

"My sweet little one", I say, while looking deeply into your eyes, "I have made
a new toy
for you to play with. But it again involves my friend. He will be back, and
you are to do whatever he says. He did not hurt you the last time, he will not
hurt you this time."

As I continue to look down into your eyes, I know you remember his sudden
appearance. In his hands he had carried a handwritten note from me,
instructing you to follow his orders. You did so, which meant that you ended
up bound, gagged, and
sitting on the bed, your hands tied security behind you, your feet tied in a
lotus position, and between your legs that dildo vibrator. Working on a timer,
the vibrator kept you aroused. But the timer did not let you reach that point
of satisfaction that you sought.
That would have to wait, and did wait, until moments after I walked through
the door, several hours later. By then, your tender little butt was almost
continually bouncing up and down on the bed, as you tried to achieve your
orgasm. You never could, however, not until I freed your legs, removed the
vibrator, and began our evening of more teasing and, finally, satisfaction.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The knock on the door must have startled you. Or maybe it was his
reappearance at the front door of your apartment. He said that the look on
your face, when you opened the door, was like a doe, crossing the road, but
caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Not fear, he said, but more of
realizing that something
was coming and that there was nothing you could do, short of disappointing
me, that would stop it. And you and I both know that you would never
disappoint me.

As he walked through the open doorway and closed the door behind him, his first
instruction were very simple:

"Remove all of your clothes."

Today it would not matter what you were wearing when he arrived, for you would
wear nothing at all as the game began. You were to be naked, save for some
ropes, when you greeted me later that day. Save also for my toy, my creation
for you.

He told me that you had gone to the bedroom, removed all of your clothes, and
then slowly walked back into the main room. I could see you doing that, as
he described it to me. I could also see your proud breasts, pointing at him,
but
wanting only to be touched by me. You are always proud of your beautiful body,
even more proud when you give it as a gift to me, my love.

His words were, again, short and to the point.

"Turn and face away from me."

He would then take hold of your hands, your wrists, slowly pull them behind
you, palm to palm, and tie them securely. Another rope would go around your
elbows, drawing them closer and closer, until they nearly touched. What would
follow would be your reaction, the reaction that I love, to the elbow
bondage---your breasts, now lifted even higher and pointing forward even more
proudly, and your nipples beginning to harden, anxiously awaiting your Master's
touch.

The gag this time would be a black leather panel gag, with several leather
straps that would fasten around your face, much like a headharness. My
favorite toy for you, the red rubber ball, would still be there, this time
securely fastened inside the leather panel and filling your mouth. The panel,
along with the rubber ball, would reduce to almost a non existent level any
noises from within your mouth.

Your ankles would be tethered to a short metal rod, not unlike a spreader bar
but little more than a foot in lenth. At each end of the rod was a leather
strap to gently, but firmly, hold those sweet ankles in place.

At this point, your expected normal reaction would be fear---fear of being
tightly bound, gagged and totally helpless while exposed to the hands of
someone other than your Master. But my words that were given to you, both this
time and before, had to have given you the inner peace that you should have, my
sweet lady. And that rapid pace of your breathing, your breath, moving rapidly
in and out of your nostrils, was not due to fear; rather, it was due to the
building excitement inside you, the excitement that envelops your soft, sweet
body every time you are bound and gagged by your Master.

I am sure that when he started to walk out the door, after completing that task
of securely binding and gagging you, you must have thought that his work was
done and that all you had to do was wait until my arrival. But that thought
would disappear as he would say:

"I will be back for the second part."

Knowing you as I do, I am sure that you once again tested your bonds. You
pride yourself at being feisty (that phrase of mine, which perhaps describes
why I like you that way...."if I want a doormat, I will go to K-Mart to buy
one"). But you would find that the wrist, elbow and ankle bonds were tight and
unforgiving. And the gag, strapped as it was tightly around your head, was not
coming off without help. I would also bet----a safe bet---that you would try
to stomp your feet in frustration, but find that the spreader bar restricted
even that slight movement. If the truth were to be known, it would be that I
love that reaction, the stomping of your feet with the frustrated squealing
sound from behind the ballgag, and the look in your eyes that would say to me
that "Master, this is not fair, tying me this way." Had I been there to watch
that reaction, I would have, with a soft laugh, reminded you that the word
"fair" seems to have been excluded from the dom dictionary.

He said you jumped a little, startled, as the front door to your apartment
again opened. While he was out of the apartment for that moment, you had
managed to turn around, to once again face the door. I don't know whether you
jumped because you thought it was was him---or me. Or maybe you thought it was
someone else, a stranger, coming through the door who would have found you
bound, gagged and totally helpless. If it was the last, it would have been a
discomforting thought.

I know your eyes must have widened when you saw "it", my latest toy, as he
carried it through the door and set it down in front of you. A small, wooden
platform, just large enough for you to stand on, with a metal rod at the front
of the platform protruding upward, with several other items attached to the
platform and to the metal rod. Perhaps its purpose became evident as he rested
the platform on the floor, walked towards you, lifted you from behind, and
placed your standing body on the platform.. Maybe the electric plug at the
base got your attention, or maybe it was the second, smaller metal rod
extending from the center of the base upward, beneath where you stood, with the
hard, rubber dildo attached at the top He said that as he placed you on the
platform, your heels came to rest on the two, small metal boxes attached to the
back of platform, the pressure of your heels pushing two tiny plungers down to
the base of the box. I know that you did not realize that this would be the
only time you could push down on the plungers and not have anything else
happen.

His next move was to reach down to the rod, attached to the platform base
beneath you, and slowly turn it, sliding it upward between your legs, until the
dildo on the top of the rod first touched that soft area between your legs.
Each turn slid it higher, and deeper within your body. I did not remind him to
make sure that you were moist at that point; I simply knew that either you
were, which would help that rubber intruder slide within you, or even if you
weren't you would be within a few short moments, especially as your body,
almost involuntarily, would begin to slowly slide up and down on the rubber
intruder as he moved it higher, deeper, and inside of you. He later told me
that, as he glanced uwpard, he saw your eyes begin to flutter, as you slid your
body, ever so slightly, up and down to enjoy the filling sensation inside of
you.

I was sure that the intruder between your legs would get your attention, as
would the nipple clamps hanging by a thin cord from the metal rod in front of
you. He needed to do nothing to your nipples, to harden them, as they would
already be hard, perhaps from the rubber tool between your legs, your body
bound the way it was, or just the thought of my eventual touch of your soft,
warm body. Even as I sit here, I can hear the squeeling noises from behind
your gag, your eyes suddenly opening wide, as he fastened the tiny clamps, one
to each nipple. On the other end of that cord holding the nipple clamps was a
small weight that had been threaded through the tiny pulley protruding from the
bar in front of you. I can imagzine the puzzled look on your face, as you
looked down and examined that weight. Even though it was only a few ounces, I
can still envision you leaning forward to ease the tension, realizing as you
did that the weight came to rest on a small, flat metal plate.

He was told to warn you, just before he connected the electrical cord at the
base of the platform to the wall socket, to pull back on the nipple clamps, to
lift the weight from the metal plate, and to stand on your toes, rising your
heels off of the plungers on the metal boxes beneath your heels. I am sure
that he gave that warning; otherwise your reaction would have been even more
immediate.

He would then reach down to a small tape recorder, attached with duct tape to
the metal rod at the front of the platform, and turn it on. The sound of my
voice, and my words, filled the room:

"Hello, little love. I have made this toy for you, to keep you occupied until
I arrive. Perhaps you think that the vibrator between your legs will not do
much. But listen to my words carefully, my sweet lady. I now want you to lean
forward, to let the weight that is
attached to your nipples rest on the metal plate."

He said that you quickly followed my instrucvtions. And that your eyes
immediately widened as the rubber dildo quickly seemed to spring to life,
vibrating and moving around inside of you, sliding deeply in, then out, and
moving in a rotating motion. You even were able to stay on your toes as you
pulled your breasts and your nipples back, lifting the weight off of the metal
plate. The vibrator then stopped just as quickly.

The tape in the recorder continued to turn, again with the sound of my voice.

"Now, my little one, slide back off of your toes, and rest your heels on the
plungers
on the metal boxes beneath your feet."

Even now, I can see you shaking your head from side to side, trying to say
"no" and guessing at the result. But a gentle tap from him on your shoulder
achieved the desired result. Your body, your heels, went back on the tiny
plungers, and the vibrator again sprang to life, sliding back and forth, and up
and down deep inside of you. He said that your reaction was, again, immediate,
that loud squeal from behind the ballgag and your body rising upward, balanced
on your toes. But you apparently miscalculated and leaned too far forward,
resulting in the weight connected to the cord from the nipple clamps touching
the metal plate, and the vibrator again springing back to life.

He later told me that you quckly pulled your chest back, causing the strain on
your nipples, and yet managed stayed on your toes. The voice from the
recorder, my voice, continued to fill the room.

"You can, if you want, satisfy yourself with the vibrator, my love. You now
know how to do it. But remember that each orgasm will weaken you, until you
can neither stand on your toes nor support the weights with your nipples. At
that point, the vibrator will continue relentlessly, until I shut it off."

What followed, ranging from your squealing sounds to a few noises that sounded
like you were trying to yell, loudly, and demand that you be removed from this
latest toy of mine, all the time shaking your head back and forth as if to deny
reality, were your frutiless attempts at protesting your situatiion. But his
work was done, and his instructions were to leave your apartment, and to
securely lock the front door behind him.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When I arrived little more than an hour later, I could easily guess what had
happened. As feisty as you are, you would have tried to stay on your toes as
long as possible and would have arched your back, to pull on the clamps
attached to your nipples, the cord, and most importantly, the weight, to keep
the weight off of the metal plate. It would have been such a beautiful
sight---your proud firm breasts and your hard nipples, being pulled by the
weight attached to your nipple clamps and the muscles of your legs, pulled
tight and firm, and your head, held high, in that streak of stubbornness that I
love about you. Knowing you as I do, you must have lasted for quite a while
and even perhaps playfully either leaned forward or backward and, for a few
moments, enjoyed the effect of the vibrator. But at some point you would have
given in, totally.

As I walked through the door, you were at the point of yet another orgasm. Your
eyes, already glazed, were staring into open space. And your hips were
undulating, grinding, to match the movements of the vibrating dildo. I was
sure that this was not your first orgasm. Your wetness was streaming down the
metal rod beneath your body and down your thighs. I was just as sure that this
was not even the second or third. When your mind and body came back to this
world, I would ask you at what number you lost count.

I am not sure you even realized the moment that I disconnected the electrial
cord and removed the nipple clamps, since your hips kept moving, back and
forth, on the vibrator and your eyes continued to stare forward. Perhaps
realization began when I gently lifted you off of the vibrator, and carried
your body into the bedroom, resting you, face up, on the bed. You were covered
with perspiration, your breath was rapid, breathing, as you were, through your
nose. The hair between your legs glistened.

It took only a moment for me to remove my clothes, unfasten your ankles from
the spreader bar, gently spread your legs a bit wider, and then help you
towards your next orgasm. I knew, at that point, that you had returned to this
world, as your legs locked around my waist, your ankles pressed hard against
the small of my back and you looked up at me, now with that mischevious look in
your eyes.

I don't know whether it was seeing you, ready to achieve another orgasm as I
came through the door, or perhaps even the expectation of seeing you that way,
but I know that I was harder than ever before. Your orgasm and mine, coming at
the same time, must have registered on seismic equipment somewhere. Not long
after that, we were both lying on the bed, your body snuggled next to mine.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When I awoke, you were still snuggled in my arms. As I slowly opened my eyes,
I saw you, looking up at me. Those eyes of yours, wide open, and sparkling,
were again speaking to me when nothing else could. I knew what they were
saying; once again, I smiled.


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