|by Lobo De la Sombra|
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|© Copyright 2015 - Lobo De la Sombra - Used by permission|
|Storycodes: Solo-F; FF; kiss; rom; lesb; tease; torment; bond; straps; bfold; gag; oral; sex; climax; cons/reluct; X||
|Caution Lobo De la Sombra Solo-F; FF; kiss; rom; lesb; tease; torment; bond; straps; bfold; gag; oral; sex; climax; cons/reluct; X|
If there was one thing Stella Jordan believed in, it was caution. The world, she knew, was a dangerous place, and only by exercising caution could a person remain safe. If you don't give someone the means to do something bad, she was fond of saying, then the bad thing will never be done.
Stella's home was designed with this philosophy in mind. With its sturdy block walls and metal roof, it offered little to tempt any aspiring arsonist, while underground phone and power lines served to prevent any kind of sabotage of services. Iron bars and solid shutters adorned each window, removing the risk of someone breaking in. All in all, Stella's house protected her from anything and everything someone might wish to do to her. Until, that is, she met Brenda.
Brenda Morton was, in Stella's opinion, about as close to perfect as any person could be. They'd met shortly after Brenda started working at the store where Stella regularly shopped for possible improvements to home safety. Brenda's obvious expertise in all things safety related had quickly endeared her to Stella, while her warm, friendly personality ensured the formation of a deep, powerful friendship.
Exactly how things had progressed from there, Stella still couldn't say with any certainty. Oh, she could plot the progression quite easily, from meeting at the store to meeting for lunch, and from there to meeting for dinner or drinks. Each step had seemed natural, almost ordained. It was at this point, however, that things began to grow a bit fuzzy.
Stella only vaguely remembered that first time. The two of them had been to one of Brenda's favorite clubs, returning afterwards to Stella's house. The evening had been so much fun, Stella saw no reason not to agree to Brenda's suggestion of a nightcap or two. Somehow, that nightcap or two had become three, then four. The two women had wound up sitting side by side, squeezed together onto a loveseat that would barely fit one, much less two. Stella vaguely remembered strange sensations, things she'd never felt before, followed by the quite clear memory of Brenda kissing her, a deep, passionate kiss that had seemed to lift her and carry her from the loveseat to her bed. Her next memory was waking up with Brenda's arms around her
Since that night, Brenda had, to all intents and purposes, moved in. Stella, who'd never considered herself as anything other than strictly heterosexual, now reveled in her lesbian lover's attentions. Brenda could make her body feel things, do things, that she'd never even dreamed of. This, she knew, was what a perfect relationship felt like. Perfectly safe, perfectly secure, in a word, perfect. Until, that is, Brenda mentioned bondage.
Up to that point, Stella had been more than happy to accept anything Brenda suggested, but now she had to draw a line. She'd seen too many news stories about people bound and tortured, even killed, to allow anything so obviously unsafe into her ordered life. Still, she knew that, given the chance, Brenda would find a way, and so she set about removing all chance.
Within a week, the inside of Stella's house changed completely. Gone were the solid, heavy pieces of furniture that once filled each room. Instead of oak and steel, her furniture was now made of balsa and wicker. Each item was carefully chosen to be light enough that, if she were bound to it, she could get free, even at the expense of destroying that particular piece. With her home once more made safe, Stella settled back onto the happy pleasures of her life. Brenda had been disappointed, but she would adapt, in time. Of this, Stella was certain. And indeed, all went back to what Stella considered normal, right up to the night of their first anniversary together.
Dinner had been wonderful. Brenda had treated her to the finest restaurant in town, something neither of them could afford on anything approaching a regular basis. The food had been superb, the wine just as good. Back at the house, the celebration had continued, with more of that excellent wine flowing freely. A bit too freely, perhaps. Stella vaguely remembered Brenda beginning to remove her clothing. After that, everything was a blank.
Stella awoke slowly to find herself half lying on some kind of padded surface, her legs dangling from the edge with the points of her knees touching a harder surface. Her knees were bent, her heels pressed against the lower curve of her ass, remaining there in spite of her attempts to straighten them. Her arms were behind her, forearms touching. These, too, refused to move. As her mind began to clear, Stella slowly recognized the feel of straps around her limbs, holding them in position. More straps went around her legs above each knee, holding her upper legs against a pair of what felt like slender wooden poles. Stella tried to examine her strange position, but something over her eyes kept her from seeing anything. Puzzled, and more than a bit worried, she tried to raise up, only to feel yet another strap passing across her back, holding her pinned to the surface on which she lay.
What was happening? And how? And where was....? "Brenda! Brenda, where are you?"
"I'm right here, lover." At the sound of Brenda's voice, Stella relaxed, if only slightly. "Brenda, are you alright? I can't move."
"Of course you can't, dear," came the whispered reply. Stella felt a puff of warm air against her ear, followed by the softness of Brenda's lips. "If you could move, it would ruin all of the fun we're about to have."
Fun? Stella tried to ask what that meant, only to feel something round and solid slip between her parted lips, forcing them wider as it settled behind her teeth. Even as she tried to spit it out, she felt yet another strap tighten around her head, holding the thing in place. Her words reduced now to meaningless grunts, Stella began to struggle, only to freeze as hands began stroking her helpless body.
"Do you have any idea," she heard Brenda whisper, "just how long I've wanted to get you like this? To show you how much fun it can be to not be safe all the time?" Even as these words registered, Stella felt warm flesh press against her ass, as if Brenda knelt behind her. Hands worked their way beneath her, cupping her smashed breasts and pinching nipples that quickly responded by growing hard and erect. At the same time, she felt Brenda's lips on her back, light, soft kisses that slowly began working their way downward. By the time Brenda's lips reached her helpless lover's waist, her hands had vanished, only to begin stroking Stella's hips, slowly working their way down and toward center.
Stella couldn't believe what was happening. In spite of her best efforts, Brenda had found a way to make her helpless. Even now, her lover played with her helpless body, something Stella could do nothing to prevent. Something that, as Brenda's hands homed in on the juncture of her thighs, she suddenly found herself wondering if she wanted to prevent.
Slowly, carefully, Brenda began stroking Stella's carefully trimmed mound, her hands occasionally moving away to stroke the insides of the helpless woman's thighs, only to return to the one spot that, increasingly, Stella found herself wanting to be touched. Slowly, carefully, Brenda began building her arousal. At the same time, Stella's anger, her fear and nervousness, began to fade. Strangely, her helplessness did nothing to diminish what she was feeling. In fact, as Brenda's hands continued to work their magic, her helplessness became part of those feelings. When those hands suddenly vanished, she moaned her disappointment.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Moaning, Stella could only nod her head. Brenda had always been a talented lover, but now, somehow, the feelings coursing through Stella's helpless body were stronger, more intense, then ever before. To Stella's mind, rapidly filling with a fog of need, it was as if not being able to tell her lover what she wanted made each touch more important, each sensation more powerful.
"I knew you would," she heard. "And I think you're going to enjoy this, too." Stella's whole body jumped at the sensation of Brenda's tongue slipping between her thighs. Gently, Brenda lapped at Stella's mound, covering every inch but never quite penetrating. Stella's body trembled under this gentle assault, the trembling slowly growing into small lurching motions as she tried to drive herself back against Brenda's tongue. Her moans had by now become continuous, deepening and strengthening as her helpless need grew. When, finally, the tip of Brenda's tongue slipped inside her, her whole body bucked.
"Very good." By now, Stella could barely hear Brenda's whispers over her own moaning. Desperately, she thrust back with her hips, searching for that vanished tongue. "I think you're ready now."
Ready? Even as the question penetrated the fog now filling her mind, Stella felt something press against, then into her. Slowly, the thing penetrated, filling her completely. Vaguely, she felt something soft touch her ass, but it quickly vanished, even as the thing inside her began to withdraw. Desperately, she thrust after it, moaning loudly as her bonds held her in place, her muscles clenching to hold it within her. With maddening slowness, the thing withdrew, only to slide back in with equal slowness, a rhythm which continued, the thing sliding in and out despite her best efforts to keep it deep inside her.
"Take it, lover. Take it and enjoy it." For Stella, the words meant nothing. All that mattered, all that existed, was that glorious, tortuous thing filling her. When it's strokes began to quicken, her mind barely registered the change, though her body responded as much as its bonds allowed. What did register was something that had been building all along, something that grew, grew, then exploded into the most massive series of orgasms she'd ever known. One after another after another, they rolled through her, exploding her body and sending the shattered pieces soaring. Quickly they built, stronger and stronger, until, at the very peak of the strongest explosion yet, everything vanished.
"Wha....? Where...?" Stella opened eyes that, strangely, could see again. Dazedly, she glanced around, her tongue exploring emptiness where once something round and solid had been. Gradually, she realized that she still lay as before, her body still helpless. Glancing down at the patterned surface beneath her, her eyes slowly widened.
The settee! The one piece she hadn't replaced, thinking that something so low and light could never be used like this. Now, laying with knees strapped to the legs at one end, her upper body strapped to the top, she saw how perfect this piece was for this kind of bondage. Shaking her head slowly, she gazed to one side, only to see Brenda kneeling beside her.
"Oh, honey," Brenda gasped, "are you alright? When you passed out, I swear you weren't even breathing. Tell me you're alright, please! And tell me you don't hate me for this."
For a long moment, Stella simply gazed at the other woman. Then, slowly, her eyes drifted closed. At this, Brenda's eyes widened.
"Stella, please," she pleaded, "say something. Say you're alright. Hell, say you hate me, say you never want to see me again. I don't care. Just say something."
For another long moment, there was silence. Then, slowly, the tip of Stella's tongue emerged, moistening her lips. "I think," she whispered, her words barely audible, "that we need heavier furniture."
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