Musical Chairs

by Jenny Bonici

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© Copyright 2005 - Jenny Bonici - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; movie; idea; orgasmatron; bond; rope; chairtie; gag; toys; insert; nipple; music; stimulate; climax; cons; X

It was a miserable wet and windy day and Don and I were glad to get home after doing the week’s shopping.  As we were not planning to do anything exciting over the weekend we picked up a couple of videos on the way back from the mall.  That evening we sat back to watch the first of them, the old 1968 sci-fi sex spoof classic Barbarella.  I don’t know if you remember this film but at one point the heroine, Barbarella (a young Jane Fonda), finds herself in a machine called an Orgasmatron.  This machine is designed to cause the victim so much sexual pleasure that it kills them with orgasmic overload.  Well it didn’t kill our hot little heroine Barbarella – just the reverse, she ended up blowing up the machine.  

“What a great idea!” exclaimed Don as he replayed that bit.  “It gives me a great idea for a new toy.”  

I didn’t think anymore about it but a couple of weeks later Don emerged from his workshop and announced with a great flourish, “Look what I’ve made for you, your very own Orgasmatron.”   To me it only looked as if he’d stuck a small ball on to the base of my favourite dildo.   “Come on, let’s give it a try.”  I muttered an excuse, something like;  “I’m busy at the moment, maybe later.”  But he insisted that there was no time like the present.  So somewhat reluctantly I agreed and followed him into our ‘dungeon’ (for that read ‘spare room’).

As if agreeing to try the thing out wasn’t enough, he then said, “As you haven’t got a catsuit with shiny breast plates like Barbarella in the film, you’ll need to get your gear off.”   So again rather reluctantly I agreed.  By the time I had stripped off he had sorted out a pile of ropes and had pushed an upright wooden armchair into the middle of the room.  Next he turned to me and said, “Now let’s get this thing into you.”  As I was in no way turned on at the time, I did not fancy pushing that thing into my cold pussy without a liberal application of KY Jelly. Only then did I let the full length of its shaft slowly slide into my body.

“Now sit on this chair and let me tie you up.”

“B - but Barbarella in the film didn’t get tied up when she was in that machine,” I stammered. 

“Give me time, I haven’t got round to building the rest of the machine yet awhile,” was his reply as he ran a couple of loops of rope round my waist and round the vertical bar in the back of the chair.  I reckoned that he always tied the ropes too tight and this time was no exception.  Next he bound my wrists to the arms of the chair and just above my elbows to the back. Then he lashed my ankles to the front legs of the chair and when he was satisfied that he had cinched them tight enough, he looped a few turns of rope around each of my legs just above my knees and tied these off to front of the chair’s arms.

“Well, young lady, you don’t look as though you’re going anywhere in a hurry,” he said standing back to admire his work.  “But I’ve still got some rope over, it’s a pity not to use it.”  With that he ran a couple of turns round my chest below my tits and a couple above them.  These too he pulled rather tighter that I think he needed to.  But the end result was that, apart from my head, fingers and toes, I could not move any part of my body.

“Well you’ve tied me up, and that was not in the film, and shoved a great fat dick into my hole but I still don’t seem to be having the fun that Barbarella had.” 

“Stop complaining woman, we haven’t got to that bit yet,” was his response.   “As you are whinging and as we don’t want you being heard all over the neighbourhood when I do switch it on, I’ll have to gag you.”  I protested but he still stuffed a fat red ball gag into my mouth and buckled it tight behind my head.  I knew that it was no use trying to push this gag out with my tongue – I’d tried that before without any success. 

“Don’t go away,” he said as he headed back towards his workshop.  He returned a few minutes later with some cables and our CD player.   After spending a while fiddling about plugging in all the cables, he soon had it working.  However as he had not connected any speakers, no sound filled the room.  

He came over to me and tweaked both my nipples, playing with them until they became quite firm.  Then he put his hand in his pocket a produced two nipple clamps.  These were soon dangling from my tits.  But these clamps were not any I had seen before – each one had a small ball attached to it.  

“Now for the piece de resistance,” he said as he picked up the last three cables that were lying on the floor.   He plugged one into the ball on the base of the dildo and the other two into the balls on the nipple clamps.  The other ends of the cables he plugged into the CD player. “

“You always liked Beethoven’s 1812 Overture so we’ll play that first. I’ll leave you to enjoy the music while I go and tidy up the workshop.” 

With that he pressed the play button on the CD player and turned the volume up to full - even though no sound was coming out – and left the room.  Straightaway the dildo and nipple clamps started vibrating in time with the music.  I don’t know if you are familiar with the 1812 Overture but it’s rather long and starts off softly at a slow tempo, but soon the pace speeds up and the volume increases – rising to a climax with the firing of cannons and the ringing of church bells at the end.  Not only did the music rise to a climax, so did I – the ringing of church bells and firing of cannons seemed to be occurring somewhere just behind my pelvis.

I hadn’t heard Don come back into the room and was taken by surprise when I heard him say, “You seemed to like that piece, how about a bit of Elvis? This album is one of your favourites.”  I shook my head and hmmmphed “No” the best I could, but as usual he took absolutely no notice.  He slipped in the Elvis CD and for the second time pressed the play button.  I knew I was in for another long session as that Elvis CD ran for over an hour. 

I had hardly come down for that first high when my hips seemed to be rocking in time with Elvis and I was heading for another orgasm.  I came several more times before Elvis got to the last track.  I dreaded the thought of Don returning and slipping yet another CD into the slot.  I just hoped that he hadn’t pressed the replay button before he left.  One thing was for certain I was no Barbarella and there was no chance that I was going to blow up Don’s Orgasmatron no matter what tune it played.