Wife In Bondage

I couldn't take my eyes off my wife. On the other hand it would have been difficult not to look at her. Her frame filled the screen where she sat, her legs taped to the legs of a chair, her arms taped to the armrests. Her short skirt was pulled up so high it in no way hid her stocking tops, nor did it conceal the naked bounty under the skirt. She was wearing a bra that made her breasts give the impression they were shooting for the stars, and with several buttons undone in her blouse, her cleavage appeared deep and immense.

There was a man in the room with her, but he was invisible to me, his presence reduced to the sound of his voice.

“ So, Christine,” he said, “here we are.”

My wife blinked. She was looking a little unsure of herself; actually a little afraid.

“ Here we are,” she said, her voice faltering. When the man didn't reply she added: “What... what... do you want me to do?”

At this the man gave a chuckle. “Well now, Christine,” he said. “I don't think you're in any kind of position to do anything, are you?”

I could see my wife swallow hard. “I suppose not,” she said, her arm twitching minutely as if she was doing her best to flex it.

“ There's no point in doing that,” the man said. “You won't get very far. Anyway, isn't this what you wanted?”

“ I don't know,” my wife said.

“ No?”

“ I mean, I did want it.”

“ And now?”

“ Well, I suppose I do, I'm just...”.

“ Perhaps you need a little encouragement,” the man said.

“ Encouragement?”

The man didn't answer, instead a silence ensued during which my wife swallowed hard and tried to look as if she didn't have a care in the world, only succeeding in looking cornered, trapped, like a lamb to the slaughter.

“ Look at you, Christine,” the man said, now almost purring. “What is it you want?”

This seemed to puzzle my wife. “What do you mean?”

“ Well, you've come here of your own volition. You've let me tie you to that chair. Your cunt's staring at me from under your skirt. You must want something.”

My wife flinched visibly at the c-word. “I suppose so,” she said reluctantly.

“ Then what is it you want?”

The question seemed impossible to answer, or at least impossible for my wife to answer. Knowing her as I did, I sensed that there was an answer there somewhere, but that she either couldn't bring herself to utter it, or that she really couldn't, that she was feeling something she couldn't put into words.

“ You must want something,” the man persisted. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“ I don't know.”

“ Do you want me to kiss you?”

“ I don't know.”

“ Do you want me to lick you?”

“ I don't know.”

“ Do you want my cock?”

“ I don't know.”

Again my wife's arms were making tiny movements, and now her legs too, as if she wanted to run away.

“ You don't know a lot, do you Christine?” the man said.

“ No,” my wife agreed, her limbs falling still again.

“ Perhaps we should try something,” the man said. “Find out what it really is that you want.”

At this I could see my wife's breathing becoming irregular, her boldly exhibited bosom heaving with greater intensity. The image of her wobbled slightly. I understood that the man was holding the camera that was transmitting signals to my computer. My wife filled even more of the screen, wholeness fading into blurred detail as the camera moved closer to her. A sea of light blue where the blouse creased across her stomach was suddenly all I could see.

I heard a sharp intake of breath. My wife. Not knowing what was happening set my imagination racing as the man said: “Is that what you want, Christine?”

“ I don't know.”

There was a new intake of breath. The exchange was repeated anew: “Is that what you want, Christine?”

“ I don't know.”

There was a little pause, then the man said: “Well, if you're going to be uncommunicative, there's only one thing for it.”

“ What's that?” my wife said, and I could hear her voice trembling slightly as the picture wobbled again, settling when the camera was laid on the floor, showing nothing but the sleek heels my wife had chosen to wear and the tape fixing her ankle to the leg of the chair.

There were sounds that were none to easy to decipher, save for a few heavily drawn in breaths, but no speaking. Then the camera shot swiftly up my wife's leg, coming to rest when her face filled the screen. Now a ball gag was nestling just inside her lips.

A hand emerged suddenly, the backs of fingers stroking my wife's face. She looked as if she was flinching, but managed to stop herself in time.

“ Remember, Christine,” the man said. “You were the one who approached me. You were the one who spilled your heart out; saying how you'd always wondered what it would be like to be tied up, at someone else's mercy. You were the one who wanted to know what it would feel like to be a mere sex object. You were the one who wanted to know what it would feel like to be used without any say in the matter. I thought I'd be kind, seeing how this is your first time. But seeing how you don't know what you want...”.

The hand pulled back, the camera moving again. This time It came to rest at an angle where it pointed straight up my wife's skirt, though it continued to shake in an irritating manner. The man's hand found its way up my wife's skirt too, not that there was much of it, fingertips slowly traversing my wife's thigh. The fingers refused to slow down, and my wife gave a little squeak as one of them slipped swiftly in between her labia. I could tell that the finger made a beeline for my wife's clit, the man moving it back and forth.

“ Now, Christine,” the man said, continuing to wiggle his finger inside my wife's pussy lips. “I understand that this is new for you, and I'm still of half a mind to be kind to you, this first time. But in return you must understand that your fuck holes belong to me, all three of them. In fact your whole body belongs to me. Are we agreed on that?”

A sound came from my wife, one that indicated some form of assent.

“ Good,” the man said. “Of course I may decide not to fuck you at all, that depends how I'm feeling.”

Maybe I was being fanciful, but I thought I could hear sounds of pleasure coming from my wife. I watched carefully, trying to detect signs of moisture, but the light was too dim, not to mention the slight camera shake. All I could see was the man's finger continuing to move.

Then he pulled back. The camera once again found its way to the floor, focusing on nothing in particular. I heard my wife gasp, heard other sounds.

“ It's time I had a good look at your tits, Christine.” The man's voice rang out loud and clear. “The pictures on your profile are tantalising, and I've been longing to see what little you've concealed so far.” Grunts came from my wife, as if she was trying to say something. “What's that, Christine? You've been dying to show me your tits? I bet you have.”

There was rustling, then my wife gave a little squeak. “Oh yes,” the man said. “These are everything I hoped for and more.” I caught a sigh from my wife, hearing her breathing intensify. “Clearly it's not just your holes that are good for fucking, Christine, you look like you were made for a good tit fuck.” My wife grunted at this. “Or even a nice bit of tit bondage. What do you say, Christine?”

What my wife said was indecipherable.

“ I'll have to think about it,” the man said. Then the camera was on the move again, coming to rest so that I could see my wife's full figure, still tied to the chair, but now with her blouse unbuttoned and her large tits hanging over the top of the black, bra she'd chosen to wear. “I won't be too long, Christine. But rest assured that I will be using you to my own ends. And to your pleasure, I hope.”

From the sound of a door closing, I understood that the man had left the room, leaving my wife bound and gagged. I tried to gauge her state of mind, but her eyes looked surprisingly blank. Her nipples looked suspiciously swollen though, and I felt a stab of jealousy as I sat there, just watching her, trying to read her.

I wished that I could speak to my wife, but the deal was that I watch, and watch only, as long as it amused the man to let me watch. I felt that my wife was avoiding looking at the camera, and could imagine only too well why that might be.

The thing was that I was beginning to suspect that I'd been led up the garden path a bit. To be sure, when my wife started writing erotic stories, she'd asked me how I felt about it before she set up an account and published the first one. I'd read them, finding them arousing, although I was already familiar with the way my wife's mind worked.

Her fantasies had always moved in the direction of reluctance. There were plenty of times in bed when she'd put up a struggle, forcing me to force myself on her. And of course she wrote largely reluctance stories, with innocent heroines brought to the point where they were taken advantage of by tall, handsome, muscular brutes; all very clichéd, but sometimes you can't beat a good cliché well done.

And when she started to get complimentary comments, I was pleased for her. It felt quite exciting, the anonymity and the occasional comment suggesting the reader wanted to get to know my wife better. I suppose that was why I took the photos of her for her profile; revealing nothing (certainly not her face), but suggesting everything.

But I was definitely coming to feel now that things had not happened as I'd imagined them to happen. What was it the man had said? “You were the one who approached me.” Was this the endgame my wife had had in mind when she set up the account to begin with?

If so, my wife had stamina, for it had been a long process. Nor had I been kept in the dark, or at least felt that I had been kept in the dark. My wife had let me see her profile quite freely. Indeed, soon her chatting with men with me watching became a weird kind of foreplay. The fact that other men found my wife desirable made her all the more desirable to me, and I soon took to groping her all over as other men told her how they wanted to hold her down and fuck her, but having the pleasure of doing just that myself afterwards.

Had I been played? Made to get used to the idea of other men fucking my wife?

My thoughts were interrupted by a noise. My wife's eyes shifted, and I understood that the man was entering the room again. There was a thud. Shortly afterwards I saw the man for the first time. He was big, much bigger than I'd imagined, with thick thighs and the torso of someone who did more than work out. He was wearing black rubber underpants, his oh so erect cock looking quite menacing sheathed in black like that. His face was concealed largely by a black mask, and in his hand he was holding a dildo, shaped to resemble a real cock.

My wife's eyes followed him nervously as he walked towards her. When he disappeared behind her, she glanced fleetingly at the camera. The man bent forward, his hands settling on my wife's shoulders, his lips moving up close to her ear. He didn't bother whispering, however, and I could hear him quite clearly: “You're a very luscious lady, Christine. The kind of lady every man dreams of owning.”

His hands moved down to her breasts. “The kind of lady every man dreams of fucking.” Suddenly his fingers were pulling on my wife's nipples, forcing her breasts into an unnatural cone shape. I saw her flinch and clench down on the small rubber ball. “In a perfect world, women as fine as you wouldn't be allowed to confine themselves to one man, they'd be open to all. But then it's not a perfect world, is it?”

He let go of my wife's nipples. I tried again to gauge how she was feeling, but was still having trouble reading one clear sensation into her demeanour.

“ I think it's time we gave things another go,” the man said. His fingers had gone to the strap on the ball gag. My wife's lips parted to let him extract the rubber sphere. “You've had time to think. What do you think I should do to you?”

Again my wife acquired that uncertain look. “I don't know,” she said softly.

“ Christine,” the man said reproachfully. “So taciturn in person, so voluble in the closeted security of cyberspace.”

“ What do you want me to say?” my wife breathed.

The man laughed out loud at this. “That's not how it works, Christine. I'm surprised at you. After all the things you've written, and now we meet and you're tongue-tied.”

“ I'm sorry,” my wife said. “It's just...”

“ Never mind that,” the man said. “Don't give me excuses.”

For a moment I fancied I could see my wife's face physically pale.

The man waited a moment before saying: “Since you won't talk, I'm minded to try a little experiment.”

My wife didn't respond to this, though I fancied she looked a little nervous.

The man bent down picking up the dildo. “Open your mouth!” he barked.

I watched as my wife's eyes widened, but her lips parted, as commanded.

“ I remember it all, Christine,” the man said. “All the things you wrote to me. About how you like having a big cock in your mouth.”

I remembered that too, but I wasn't thinking too much about anything as the dildo was pushed up against my wife's chin, then slowly upwards before being inserted into her mouth. About half of it disappeared before the man spoke: “Now, Christine, I want you to hold it there. I'll be checking for teeth-marks later, mind.”

I watched as my wife clenched her lips round the latex phallus. She tilted her head slightly backwards, no doubt finding it easier to keep the thing in position that way. The man was moving out of frame, but his voice could still be heard easily enough. “Don't you look a picture?” he said. “You look sensational with that big, fake cock in your mouth.”

My wife looked a little flattered and a little embarrassed at one and the same time. Then her face registered surprise as a humming noise emerged.

At first I didn't understand where it was coming from. Then, as my wife fidgeted as best she could in the chair, I realised that something must have been inserted into her before the transmission began. Something the man was manipulating by means of remote control.

“ Make sure you hold on to that fake cock,” his voice said.

A faint sound could be heard; breathing, almost wheezing. My wife's features twitched; she continued to fidget, her fingers tapping, her legs trembling. The humming increased. The sounds my wife made increased too; a funny little squeaking noise that I recognized only too well as her way of expressing sexual arousal. I could see how unbearable it was for her not to be able to move. She tried to twist her body without much success. Her eyes closed as she screwed up her face. Her full breasts wobbled as her breathing increased.

The humming increased again, a sudden leap in volume, in speed. My wife's mouth opened to let out a gasp. The dildo dropped to her lap and bounced onto the floor. The humming stopped immediately.

“ It looks like you'll be needing a lot of practice,” the man said sternly.

“ I'm sorry,” my wife said, suddenly sounding and looking afraid. I could feel my own stomach clench. From what little I knew of these sorts of games I imagined there must be consequences.

The man came back into view, sinking to his haunches next to my wife. He stretched one arm round her, his fingers pinching an engorged nipple and making my wife flinch.

“ Never mind,” he said, suddenly conciliatory. “I realise that all this is new to you, so I'm going to be kind to you, Christine.”

My wife looked relieved, but her eyes were moist. The man began rolling her nipple between thumb and finger, and as he did so his other hand suddenly shot up under my wife's skirt. I tried to read her expression. She didn't look too displeased. I tried to see what the man was doing, but the light and the position of his arm wouldn't let me. When my wife suddenly sighed out loud I imagined he was once again tickling her sensitive clit.

“ Tell me, Christine,” he said suddenly; softly, lightly. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

My wife's face registered first surprise. Then her lips parted and she said: “Yes.” Her voice was very low, barely audible.

“ Now, now, Christine,” the man said. “You'll have to do better than that.”

“ Better?” my wife said.

“ Oh yes, Christine. You must ask properly. You must learn to beg.”

My wife looked shell shocked, but she fathomed what the man was driving at. “Please fuck me,” she said softly, her eyes pleading as much as her voice.

The man gave a little chuckle. “You'll have to speak up a bit,” he said.

My wife swallowed. The man's fingers were still mauling her nipple, his other hand moving inside her skirt. “Please fuck me,” she said again, only louder.

“ That's better,” the man said. “But you'll have to do even better than that.”

“ How... What...?”

“ Oh it's quite simple,” the man said. “Your cunt is nice and juicy and I've half a mind to fuck you. But you have to ask for it in a way that satisfies me.”

I could tell my wife was trying to fathom what was expected of her. “Please fuck me with your big cock,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

“ Very good,” the man said. “Now what do you want me to fuck?”

My wife flinched. I knew this was probably very difficult for her. She had no trouble writing things, but she'd never been a big one for talking dirty out loud. Again I could almost see her thought processes

“ My...” she began, then broke off.

“ What was that?”

My wife took a deep breath. “Please fuck my n-nice j-j-j-juicy c-c-c-c-...” She swallowed again. “Please fuck my... juicy cunt.”

“ What do you want me to fuck you with?”

“ Your... Your big hard cock.” My wife swallowed again, her eyes showing how ideas were coming to her. “Your lovely big cock. It excites me so. Please fuck me with your big, hard cock.”

“ I'm not sure,” the man said, still using his fingers to tease. “I'm not sure you've earned it. Perhaps I should just send you home and let hubby fuck you instead. Would you like that, Christine?”

“ No!” my wife burst out suddenly. Her words sliced into me as she said: “I want you to fuck me! Please, I want you to fuck me!”

“ Not hubby?”

“ No!” My wife was trying desperately hard not to look at the camera as my heart sank. Though I couldn't see the man's face, I could well imagine how much he was enjoying this, enjoying humiliating me. “I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me! Fuck me now!” There was a measure of desperation in her voice that I could hardly believe I was hearing.

“ What was that, Christine?” the man said, his voice almost merry as both hands suddenly became engaged in toying with my wife's nipples. “I'm not sure I understand. What is it you want?”

“ Fuck me!” my wife groaned, her whole body seeming to be vibrating with the desire to be taken hard, her thighs twitching desperately, her nipples swelling still more at the man's touch. “Please fuck me.”

The man twisted one of the nipples, his other hand moving down again to her thigh, coming to rest just underneath the skirt. “Ah, Christine,” he said, as my wife gave one of her horny little squeaks. “So eager.” His hand stroked her thigh as he continued to manhandle her teat. “But I'm still not decided as to whether you deserve it or not.”

“ Please...” my wife begged, but the man was moving away. He disappeared from view, only to return, holding what I understood to be the remote device he'd used earlier.

My wife was following him with her eyes. She too understood, and when the humming began, she gasped out: “No! Not that! Your cock! I want your cock!”

In a flash the man was next to her. He wound her long hair round his free hand and forced her head down towards the huge cock, sheathed in black rubber. “Fine,” he said. “Take my cock!”

My wife's lips had already parted. Nevertheless, the man made a great show of forcing his cock into my wife's mouth, stuffing her full, but then refusing to move, just holding her there on him. The buzzing increased in volume. The angle was bad, but I could see my wife's eyes widen. Her whole body seemed to tremble as she fought against the bonds that held her in place.

Then the buzzing increased some more. I could tell from the way her body was shaking, her nipples big and swollen enough to burst, her awkward breathing, that she was on the verge. Then suddenly she was gasping as the man withdrew his cock, the black rubber shiny and sloppy from my wife's saliva.

The buzzing stopped. My wife sat on tenterhooks, gratification deferred just in the nick of time. “Please!” She was almost screaming now. “Fuck me! Fuck me with your big cock! Fuck me and cum in me and make me cum!”

“ Now, now,” the man said in calm measured tones, as he began stroking her thigh again. “I'm quite happy to fuck you Christine.”

“ Then do it!” my wife snapped back. “Fuck me now!”

“ Don't get above yourself,” the man said. He paused as my wife looked suitably chastened. “What I propose is a deal.”

“ A deal?” my wife said, her voice back to soft and quizzical.

“ Yes,” the man said slowly. “I'll fuck you on one condition.”

“ What's that?” my wife said, swallowing.

“ I'll fuck you if you promise me that this isn't the last we see of each other. I'll fuck you if you promise to return and let me have the pleasure of your supremely fuckable body any way I choose.”

To my horror my wife didn't even think about it. “Yes!” she said eagerly. “Yes, of course I'll come back. Please, fuck me now. I promise, anything you want. I'll let you do anything you want. Just fuck me now.”

Even behind the mask it wasn't hard to imagine the man leering. Suddenly he was moving towards the camera. A split second later, the screen went blank.

“ Shit!” I exclaimed. This I hadn't bargained for. My stomach lurched as I realised that all I would be able to do now was imagine what the man was doing to my wife until she returned home. Oh shit! What had I agreed to? Why?

The answer wasn't hard to fathom.