Gromet's Plaza - Bondage Stories
The Punishment Game
by Sandy
sandrakeynes@hotmail.com
© 2003 - Sandy - Used by permission
storycodes: F/mf; bondage; cons; X
grometsplaza - www.grometsplaza.cjb.net

The Punishment Game
by Sandy
The Punishment Game by Sandy
Hi Gromet:
 
What follows is a true event. My sister and my husband came up with the idea (or found it on the net). Please feel free to post it and use my name and Email address.
 
The Punishment Game
 
I think that my Sister, Eve, actually came up with this (the Heifer). Here’s what we did yesterday afternoon with her help.
 
My Husband, Jeff, is bound seated on the floor. His hands are cuffed behind his back around one leg of our heavy dinner table. His legs are spread with a 36 inch, homemade spreader bar.
 
Under the table top there have been two screw eyelets installed. To one is attached the end of a string. The other end is then attached to a key ring holding Jeff handcuff keys. To the other eyelet is attached a stocking with several pieces of ice in the toe. The key ring was slid over the stocking prior to installing it to the eyelet. The key ring now rests on the pieces of ice trapped in the toe. When the ice melts the key ring will slide off the stocking and swing down into Jeff’s reach. He may then free himself. The ice has already begun to melt, the drops drip, drip, dripping into a bowl placed on the floor below the stocking.
 
Only one other detail remains about Jeff, condition. Around the top of Jeff’s scrotum is tied a short piece of string with one end hanging. Through that end of the string has been threaded a second handcuff key. Finally that end is tied around the base of Jeff’s penis. The string is too short to slide off his cock unless he is completely flaccid. I see with a sinking feeling that he is already erect in anticipation of what may transpire.
 
I am across the room lying face down. My hands are cuffed behind my back and my feet are spread with an 18 inch homemade spreader bay. To the spreader bar is attached a length of clothes line. The other end is tied to an eyelet installed in the floor. The length of this line has been precisely measured. It is just long enough to allow me to slither over to Jeff and reach his penis with my mouth. This is to prevent me from somehow using my hands or other part of my anatomy to unfair advantage.
 
Jeff’s freedom is assured. He need only be patient until the ice melts. If I am to be free first, I must struggle across the room inchworm fashion, buffing my belly, thighs, knees and, more sensitively, my nipples across the textured carpet. Of course I may choose not to go through this, but I am motivated.
 
You see, my Sister Eve, has placed us in these circumstances only moments ago. Before leaving, she selected three implements from our toy box and placed them on the table out of Jeff’s sight. I had the advantage of seeing them – a rubber-soled, ladies, bedroom slipper, an old-fashioned, wooden-handled, hair brush, and a broad-bladed, riding crop. They are to be used in that order. She then wrote a number on a card and placed it in front of those punishment implements. I do not know what that number is, but I know that it is not less than 30 – she has recorded the minimum number of swats to be used for each implement. Jeff does not know what lies on the table, only that there will be three items for use ‘later’ (to be used from left-to-right) if he is freed first. Or they will be used on him if I free myself first.
 
Eve’s admonition of “Play Nice! And Have Fun!”, as she giggled and closed the door still rings in my ears.
 
The first of us to be free may then use his or her partner in whatever sexual act s/he chooses, as long as s/he then punishes his or her mate with the selected implements when done.
 
Jeff watches me expectantly. Will I lay there and accept my fate or will I struggle over to him, ‘deal’ with his erection, and use my lips to work the string off his cock and retrieve my release key?
 
He’s less confident as I begin my trek. He does not know what lies on the table, but realizes it must be fairly severe for me to struggle so. Many long minutes elapse as I inch over to my captive husband. These minutes are punctuated by the plink, plink, plink of drops from melting ice falling into the bowl. I must hurry.
 
Finally I am situated between Jeff’s spread legs. He has inched back as far as he can to try and prevent me from achieving my release. I am stretched taught trying to work his penis into my mouth. Jeff grins knowing that my angle of attack will be poor and my technique hampered by my bonds. I will only be able to use my neck and upper shoulders to work my head up and down his member. He knows the effort will be extended and quite tiring. He may still win.
 
The dripping in the bowl sounds much faster. I am desperate and cannot waste time to look. Even if I had the key now I would have to wiggle back a few feet, drop the key, laboriously rollover, find the key blindly, and only then, free myself. He may still win.
 
I continue the difficult task at hand (or should I say mouth). Jeff is doing his best to delay his orgasm and I have little idea how close or far he is. His breaths are heavy and somewhat ragged. Mine are even more so.
 
Finally, he explodes into my mouth and I swallow his seed. I am within sight of my release. I start working the key string off his cock – a difficult task using only lips to grasp with.
 
Just as I free the string and start to retrieve the key, I hear his release key fall and know that I have lost. My own despair and my physical efforts trigger a climax I didn’t even know was pending. Gawd, how I came! It leaves me weak and sobbing. Worse is yet to come…
 
Hugs,
Sandy
 
I’m writing this standing up – BTW.
 
Sandy
 
 
 
 

20.09.03

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