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A Friend In Need By T.S. FESSELN
The muted sound of chatter surrounds me as I sit on the floor at the
feet of Belara. At least I'm assuming it's Belara. The heavy double skinned
leather hood that encases my head makes it difficult to know for sure.
I really do hope it's Belara, else who's drumming their fingers on the
top of my head?
It all started when our shipping arrived from the UK. After emigrating
to the Australia we'd been to a number of parties in the scene, but couldn't
really get in to it as virtually all our toys were taking the slow route
over the seas with the rest of our worldly goods. Stashed amongst the books,
cookware, CDs and other paraphernalia that makes up the chattel of our
lives was a large duffel bag securely locked containing all sorts of implements
that we use to enjoy ourselves.
I jump and yelp emphatically into the ball gag as something spiky is
rolled slowly and relentlessly around my chest. It could be the Wartenberg
wheel, I think. Restrained as I am, there's not much I can do except squirm.
From the sound of it this is hilarious to the onlookers.
Sunday night, a couple of hours earlier. This would be our first night
at Purgatory since we'd gotten our toys back (they made it through customs,
YES!) We'd been to Purgatory a few times before which was nice enough as
Belara managed to catch up with her old friends and I managed to make new
ones. What we really wanted to do though was play.
Belara instructed me to put on my steel ball stretcher; one of the
few toys we brought over with us. Duly adorned, I stood naked before my
Mistress awaiting her whim. It'd been so long since we'd played that we
were both a little nervous and giggly. That's the kind of play we do, fun
play. In day to day life we're very much equals, when we play Belara's
in charge and I (nominally >;-) ) do what I was told.
Selecting some rope Belara wove a Karada, a form of Japanese rope bondage,
around my person. The Karada was pulled good and tight, compressing my
upper torso causing my breath to shorten. Belara bade me to kneel on the
floor and present my arse so that I could receive what she presented to
me. It was soft, squidgy with lots of bumps. I grinned, there was only
one anal toy that we had shaped like that and it was a multi-speed, multi-pattern
vibrator. Looks like I'm in for some fun tonight.
Belara snugged the ropes around my penis and up the cleft of my arse
cheeks securing the anal toy securely in place. Next on was my leather
shorts. These shorts had a double layer at the crotch, the penis went through
a convenient hole (with a bit of a struggle thanks to the ball stretcher)
in the inner layer. Everything was secured away by the outer layer by means
of two zips either side of the nether regions. The zippers are attached
to loops through which the belt is threaded through and securely locked
effectively denying me any genital freedom.
Preparations done, I pulled on a tracksuit thus hiding from view my
accoutrements. With mounting excitement, we finished packing Belara thought
might be useful for the night (pretty much everything, guess she was hedging
her bets) and we headed for the car.
On arrival at purgatory, the usual small talk was dispensed with in
short order and Belara set about adding to my bondage. I'd asked for a
whole night in bondage and Belara was determined to deliver it. First on
was the ball gag, then the hood. Blind, dumb and to some extend deaf I
was at her mercy (wasn't I always?)
My arms were bundled up behind me and securely bound in place; other
than wiggling my fingers I'd lost the use of those for the night. Belara
carefully positioned me where she wanted me. Without warning, I felt firm
pressure behind my knees which caused my knees to buckle causing me to
fall to the floor! Slightly panicked I found myself being lowered gently
to the floor by the ropes binding my arms and chest. My legs were then
crossed tailor fashion and bound securely. Looping the tail end of the
rope bondage and leaning heavily on my back, Belara finished the bondage
off by tying my legs as closely as she could to my chest.
Which pretty much brings us present. Belara was not letting up running
the Waternburg wheel over my exposed flesh; bound as I am Belara's access
to my flesh is limited but boy she's using what's available to her and
I'm mewling incessantly into my gag. This is very different to what we'd
done before; it's amazing the limits you subconsciously impose on yourself
over the years and we'd agreed that tonight we were going to try and break
through those. For tonight I didn't have a safeword as such (bit hard gagged
and hooded as I was) however we'd agreed that Belara would
check in every so often, at her discretion, by squeezing my hand. Two squeezes
from me would mean that everything was OK.
The Waternburg wheel continues to rake over my back, arms and wherever
else Belara can ply it causing me to really test my bondage. I'm so lost
in the sensations that my skin's screaming and I swear it feels like blood
is drawn. The first difference I notice is a sharp yank on the rope bisecting
by arse ramming the anal toy insistently in to me. More hands caress my
leather encased head and then the anal toy springs to life.
Time ceases to have meaning. There's just me, the ropes and the vibrations
in my arse. I rock back and forth, sensations flooding me. My breathing
deepens as much as my bondage allows as I start to float away. How long
this goes on for I don't know. Suddenly the vibrations stop, the leg bondage
is released and I gratefully straighten my aching body. My breathing slows
as hands stroke lightly over me. My arms still ache, but I can live with
it. For the first time I actually have to think about giving Belara the
OK when she checks in. This is the furthest we've gone and it feels good!