Elizabeth's Bondage Boxed Set by Nikki Sex
Cuffing her arms behind her, he removed her ankle chain and took her to the bathroom, all the time keeping his hands on her cuffed wrists. He liked that, letting her know that he was in complete control of her, and frankly, she liked it too. This time Elizabeth complacently went along, following his instructions. Then she used the toilet, but when she asked if she could speak, and then requested he remove the toy from her backside, he refused.
"Not yet, mon cher. Later." Afterwards he washed her well with a warm washcloth.
When they returned to the bedroom, he uncuffed her wrists from behind her and placed the cuffs in front. He got her to lie on the bed, where he attached her cuffed wrists to the headboard. Then he shackled her legs together, attaching them to the end of the bed. The result was that she lay straight along the middle of the mattress with her arms and legs tightly bound, with a strong enough tension that she had little ability to move.
But why had Sir chained her with her arms and legs together? It would be difficult to have sex like this, or would it? Damn that imaginative man! she thought. Excited and apprehensive, Elizabeth found she was hyperaware, alert and eagerly waiting to discover what he would do next.
She didn't have to wait long to find out.
Sir sat down beside her and smiled. "This corset makes your breasts look oh so enticing. They thrust themselves out, just begging to be stroked. You are chained to my bed, mon cher. Tell me, how does this make you feel?"
Elizabeth gave him a tentative smile. "Sexy. Nervous. A little breathless. Turned on."
"Very good," he said. "I like for you to be all those things. First, I wish to watch you come for me. You are right handed, no?"
"Yes, Sir."
He uncuffed only her right hand. "Masturbate for me, mon cher. Play with yourself until you climax."
Elizabeth licked her lips. There was no way she could talk him out of this, she knew. This would be the second time she had ever masturbated in front of him, in fact in front of anyone, and she still found it embarrassing. Without foreplay and with him watching it would be difficult, but she shut her eyes and got started. She was unable to part her legs because of how she had been bound, so access was difficult. She slid her hand down under the G string moving her fingers into the dampness between her legs to lubricate them, and then came back to manipulate her clit. After a few minutes, she began to feel a bit more confident, particularly as his comments proved that she was arousing her captor.
"Oui, oui, mon cher," Sir encouraged. "Do not stop." His voice was deep, lust filled and very French. His accent she noticed always grew stronger when sexually inflamed. "Regardez. Il est agréable de voir. Bound, blonde and beautiful, you touch yourself in this oh so sexy corset, with the stockings and heels. Mon Dieu, your mound swells between those lovely thighs. But they are too close together, no? Because I have cuffed your ankles and pulled your body tight. You want to open your legs, yes? Spread them wide so that I can fuck you?"
"Yes…Sir,' she said, breathing raggedly. The trousers of his perfectly tailored suit were straining, unable to contain his swelling erection. Sir's blatant desire from watching her masturbate was a serious turn on.
"Stop," he said suddenly, placing his hand upon her hand and fingers, holding them still. Her eyes flew open, and she stared at him, wondering if she had somehow done something wrong.
"Un moment, mon cher," he said. She watched him move to the armoire and open a drawer. Her face heated when she saw him pull out nipple clamps. Holding them, he came toward her with a happy grin. "We will both enjoy these, mon cher." He sat next to her and bent over each pillowed breast. Slipping her left nipple out of the cup, he pulled and rolled it between his thumb and finger, making it stand up, ready for him.
He paused a moment, apparently entranced with her nipples. Then he bent over her and licked each one, thoroughly laving them, leaving a fiery trail across her breasts with his warm tongue. He sat back up. "Look at me," he ordered her. "I want watch you take this pain for me."
Of course you do, Elizabeth thought, tensely licking her lips. Sir had a thing about pain. And of course what was even stranger was - that was okay with her.
7. Clamped and Coming
Elizabeth gazed into Sir's eyes. It was no hardship to do so, for his dominance mesmerized her. When he clamped the first nipple, she flinched and gave a little yelp as the aching throb of it knifed through her right to her core. Sir stroked her breast and said, "Good girl," then he studied her once more as he clamped the other nipple.
"Je l'aime, mon cher. I love to see you accept pain for me, and yet it does not really hurt now, does it?"
"Not really, Sir," she said in a breathless whisper. Pain? No, she reflected. It ached. The ache echoed and radiated in sensual waves through her breasts, pussy and clit. It was a dull empty throb, that made her needy and wanting – which no doubt is exactly what Sir intended. But it would help her masturbate and achieve a climax.
"Bon," he said. "Now, before you begin again, tell me, what were you thinking of to help you achieve the orgasm?"
Her frown came automatically, before she thought to hide it. Elizabeth seriously considered lying. But could she get away with it? Sir wanted every secret Elizabeth had, but she wanted to keep at least some things to herself. It was embarrassing.
"Elizabeth," he said. "I will know if you lie to me," he said sternly. His face was implacable, and she felt a thrill of fear. "Do you want to be punished? Right now you are mine. Every thought, your body, your orgasms and the very air you breathe. I own it all. Do not displease me, for j'assure you will be very sorry if you do. Now I asked you a question and I want an answer - an honest answer. And I want it right now."
"I'm sorry, Sir. I was thinking of the movie you made of us having sex."
This didn't seem to surprise him. With no discernible change of expression he asked, "What part?"
Elizabeth felt her skin flush with humiliation, "I was replaying you fucking my mouth, that time in the bath. I saw you, the way you thrust and finally climaxed. I…I watched it a number of times - it was very erotic, Sir, and that was what I was masturbating to."
"Very good," he said. "This is acceptable mon cher, but you must always tell me what you are thinking the moment I ask. I will never be angry with you for honesty, I swear. If your sincere thought is that you hate me then tell me. Not idle thoughts mon cher, but honest feelings. If I am to achieve my goal, then this is what you must do, no matter how difficult it is, you understand?"
"Yes, Sir, but may I ask, what is your goal?"
"No. You may not ask. Not yet," he said, dismissing the subject. "Now, I want you to play with yourself until you climax. But you will imagine that it is Mark you are pleasing in the bath, that it is your husband who controls you. Mark has bound you and forced you to service him. Can you do this, Elizabeth?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Bon. One more thing. I do not want you to shut your eyes. This may be difficult, but it is my will. You will keep your eyes on me while you play with yourself. Nothing will be hidden from me – I want it all. I will watch you come, mon cher, vous comprenez?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Begin," Sir said in a quiet, unassailable voice.
Elizabeth stiffened and stopped breathing for a moment. Every time he commanded her, she felt it like a heavy wave, flowing through her entire body. Sir's voice caressed her, yet powerfully compelled her obedience.
Sir was sitting right beside her, and it was effortless to look at him, she didn't even need to crane her neck. Yet it wasn't easy to expose herself. It was as if the man wanted to see right down into her soul. Stubborn to a fault, Elizabeth made up her mind that she could do this. Of all the things she had already done, looking into his eyes was nothing.
The ache in her nipples helped, and Elizabeth stroked her clitoris, imagining Mark. Her clit enlarged and responded eagerly as desire surged through her. It was said that woman could imagine more easily than a man, that a woman's mind was geared to fantasy, while a man's mind w
Sir continued muttering soft words of erotic encouragement, mostly in French, and Elizabeth's eyes remained upon him, but she wasn't really seeing him. In her mind she was imagining Mark, physically demanding, powerful and overwhelming, taking exactly what he wanted from her. She began to pant and perspire, while working her clit over, picturing him firmly giving her orders, telling her how to suck him, what he wanted – exactly as Sir had.
Mark stood before her and she could picture him so easily. Not the sweet, considerate Mark that she knew, but that other Mark, the Mark who had taken what he wanted at the wedding, who had fucked her hard and fast. Jaw tight, expression uncompromising, the primitive, primeval warrior - the man who would fight to the death for her. She imagined his huge, tough body demanding things that terrified her, demanding her compliance, charged with dominant male energy. Her breasts throbbed and she gave a ragged moan as she pictured obeying him instantly, submitting to whatever he commanded, giving him anything – giving him everything.
"Yes, yes, Mark," she heard herself murmur. Mark was telling her that he was going to come right down her throat. That she was going to drink it all down, swallow every drop and thank him afterwards for allowing her to suck him off. The idea of Mark dominating her was so amazing that she felt herself begin to go over.
"Come for me, mon cher. Come now, I want to see it," Sir said in a deep, lust-filled voice.
Sir's forceful male command made her insides quiver, spark then burn. Constrained as she was, Elizabeth could still thrash her head side to side and barely thrust her hips. Her pussy squeezed down on empty space, and her anal passage clenched tight onto the fullness of the plug. Sir pulled her nipple chain hard, and instead of distracting her, the brutal pinching torment added to the power of her orgasm. As she started to go over, Sir thrust two fingers up under her G string, into her pulsing channel. With her legs chained and pulled tightly together the space for him to push inside was constricted, so he had to force his way in. When he did so he slammed right up into her G spot with bruising strength.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she gasped. It felt amazing. Writhing and jerking she screamed and screamed, obeying Sir's command to climax.
8. At His Feet
When she came down from her orgasmic high, Sir's manner was utterly approving. "Mon cher, I am proud of you. It was very exciting for me, to see you climaxing so hard. You called Mark's name, did you know?" He removed her nipple clamps and put them in his pocket. Then Sir's large hands caressed, and fondled each swollen breast.
Elizabeth watched as Sir bent over her upper torso and took one nipple into his mouth. A noise came from somewhere deep inside her, a low sound of raw pleasure. "Ahhhh! Ummmm." It was so erotic to see him suckle her, to see and feel her engorged nipple pop out of his mouth when he moved to the other breast in a path of electric sensation. Tenderly licking and sucking, he caressed each breast, his mouth and tongue restoring her in a soothing balm of moist heat. Elizabeth stared up at the ceiling, to look away and catch her breath, but the overhead mirror only reflected his dark head working diligently against her pale skin.
"Oh God," she whispered, while his lips and tongue nibbled and circled around her areola. He gently and thoroughly laved her nipples, easing the stinging ache. Within his hands her breasts tingled blissfully. The man took his time, clearly enjoying himself.
Elizabeth blinked back tears, utterly off balance. What was happening to her? If Sir wanted to make her climax all day long, he could easily do it, for she had no ability to withstand him. She was completely in his hands, and somehow she didn't care. This entire situation was so baffling. Confusion, fear and arousal all mingled, warring inside her mind.
Sir caressed her jaw in a compassionate manner, then bent and kissed her forehead. "It is only emotions, mon cher, nothing to signify. You are very brave to face so many new things all at once. But see how easy it is? To masturbate in front of another? You can do this for Mark now, and he will enjoy it very much. There is nothing to disturb you, j'assure." He began to uncuff her legs, and arms from the bed, taking his time, allowing her to compose herself.
Then he helped her stand up. "It is well?" he asked kindly, with a reassuring smile.
Elizabeth couldn't resist his smile. "Yes, Sir. It is well."
"Bon," he said. "Come sit with me now. We will drink wine, and then I will have you service me well while on your knees. We will both have climaxed then. It will take the edge off so when I take you in the ass I will be able to fuck you for some time before I need to come again."
Elizabeth stood on shaky legs, trying to absorb all that Sir was saying in her dazed post climax haze.
"Mon cher," he said, "for now I relax the rules and you may speak as you wish. It is a little break, you perceive."
"Thank you, Sir," she replied.
Sir sat on a dark brown wood kitchen chair, his knees spread wide. After taking a pillow from the bed he had Elizabeth sit on the floor in between his legs, her shoulder leaning up against the inside of one thigh, her cuffed hands resting comfortably in her lap. She was getting used to that damn plug, at least when it wasn't vibrating. It was a bizarre, yet fantastically intimate scene, sitting on the floor between his knees, and even though she was allowed to speak, she didn't feel the desire or the need to do so.
Sir poured himself a glass of red wine and took a drink, and then kissed Elizabeth, filling her mouth with wine. This was new, too, and bizarre but kind of nice. While Sir sat and pet her hair with long sensuous stokes, and continued to feed her wine from his own mouth, Elizabeth reflected that she was like his dog. Sitting up and panting for his treats, absorbed in him completely. It seemed right to sit at his feet because it made him happy. And because he was happy she was happy. This was not something Sir was making her do, she realized. It was something she was: Sexually submissive. Elizabeth understood now that she was receiving pleasure by giving pleasure.
"Look at me," he said, tipping her face up toward him with one firm finger. Elizabeth looked up, and saw Sir searching her expression with a speculative glint in his eye. "Tell me Mon cher, what are you feeling right now?"
Three words: safe, comfortable and happy sprang into her mind. Shit, she thought. Why do I feel that? So, so idiotic! She pressed her lips together.
Sir gripped her chin firmly with one hand. "Tell me," he demanded.
"It's stupid! They were just idle thoughts, and I don’t see that it means anything!"
Sir gave her a slow, knowing smile, "Mon cher, do not be angry with yourself. One does not easily control one's feelings, one controls one's actions." He stroked her hair soothingly. "You are happy, are you not? Content to sit here at my feet? Tell me now what is the answer that you try oh so hard to conceal? What makes you so angry?"
She sighed, and leaned her head against his knee. "I immediately thought that I felt safe, comfortable and happy. There! It's insane! I've been kidnapped, chained up, and I've cheated on my husband, who I love. I'm such a slut."
He laughed. "Yes, you are a slut," he said, which didn't help to pacify her hurt feelings at all. "But that has nothing to do with it," he added. "If you were sitting here, in cuffs at Marks' feet, how would you feel?"
"That is a different matter, Sir," she said primly. "I am always happy with Mark. I shouldn't be happy here with you."
Smiling knowingly, he said. "Do not fight your nature, belle fille. You are exactement parfait, the ideal woman to me, and to your husband Mark. Sexually, your preference is to submit. This makes you, and oh so many women, content. It also makes them into shameless whores."
Elizabeth gave an inarticulate choke, too insulted to speak.
<
She was still digesting the slut and whore concept. What? she thought. He is back to talking about my ass. Where did that come from?
But no doubt she would soon find out.
9. What Sir Wants
Against her inclination she laughed. "What a thing to say, Sir! Just as I was getting comfortable again, too. Okay, go ahead. What is that about? Some men really get into it."
"I cannot speak for others, mon cher, I can only speak for myself. Turn now, I will give you un peu massage." She shifted so that her back was to him and she rested directly between his knees and thighs. Sir began to rub her shoulders, head and neck, occasionally kissing her in the sensitive areas behind her ears, throat, and collarbone. Elizabeth decided that he was turning her on and relaxing her, both at the same time – somehow creating longing and languor in equal measure. His erection was stiff against her, so she was well aware of his interest.
"You are innocent to anal play," he began, "naturally nervous, and unaware of the pleasure it will bring. I am honored to introduce you to this. But more than that, few women are virgins, but many are anal virgins. Why? They do not trust the man. To bring you to a state, mon cher, where you are willing…." He paused, cleared his throat and then said, "where you beg me to take your virgin ass, ah, it is very well. For you to trust me, Elizabeth, with such an important part of your body - the forbidden, the unspeakable to many, this is something I crave."
She thought about it for a bit. "What if I say no?"