Part Five - Angelina's Story
Apart from being a rich man's brat, Angelina Cox was an excellent example of a sub out of control, and searching unceasingly for the unholy grail of her first, top-of-the-mountain, bondage orgasm experience. Not having to make a living can do that to types like her who are as hooked on sadistic rope play as crack heads are on what floats their boats.
So when the 26-year old, Brazilian-American beauty heard the unmistakable sound of muffled laughter emanating from the terrace next door, speculations as to its reasons soon eclipsed what was on her mind at the time.
As was Angelina's style, her throwing-caution-to-the-wind MO soon had the five-foot-four-inch thrill-seeker straddling the terrace fence and climbing into unknown territory. Curiosity had truly killed the cat of Cox's pussy envy, sending a glut rush of wet spot excitation to her groin as she parted the terrace door curtain a bit to take a peek into Lin and Stephanie's situation.
'I must be dreaming,' thought Angelina Cox while reaching for a length of rope and using four turns of it to thoroughly and quietly blindfold Lin before the vanilla Asian could catch a glimpse of who would do such a thing in the first place.
The unmistakable sounds of male moaning and orgasmic relief pouring forth from Molly's satisfaction gave Angelina all the evidence she needed to spring into action.
'Who knew,' she quipped to herself as she stood over the situation and quickly decided on what to do next. 'The package.'
Her eyes went wide with gleeful recollection before heading for the door, which she unlatched so she could get back in, should things bend back in that direction.
'My morning run can wait,' she decided, while slipping out of her sweats and into what Donna had anonymously sent her through the mail; a red, Studio chicken suit with a note attached that read: 'When you think there might be something up your alley going on next door, try this on for size and send an email to JR2001@StudioLimit.com, with nothing but the word 'knots' in the subject field. Then, just wait.'
As she logged in and typed the message she'd been waiting weeks to send, a few fantasy scenarios overtook her concentration.
'I wonder who the guy doing all the moaning is.'
Molly Sims knew that all she had to do in order to change the complexion of here current bondage adventure was free Roger and let the cards fall where they most certainly would.
There was no way he could undo her in his present fix, making it abundantly obvious that Donna had set things up so as to make sure the hard-bodied hunk would eventually have his way with Sims; unless, of course, Stephanie had a mind to use her freedom in an uncharacteristic direction or two.
All Molly had to do was pull out the pop knot that secured the tether line to the center brass bar, and Roger's bound wrists would be freed from the bed. He'd then, of course, have to remove the duct tape and such around his lower face before being able to undo the wrist cinch knots with his teeth. It was obviously time to make a major decision, something Molly Sims rarely did, or had to do, where situations such as these were concerned.
Meanwhile, Roger kept interrupting her thinking with his indicating glances and body language, hoping the bound and gagged bimbo would free his arms from the bed to give him a shot at topping their circumstance until his fuming frustration and belated expectations had been thoroughly satisfied.
Molly decided against freeing the hunk before raising herself off of his cock and the bed and heading for what she hoped would be a less intimidating option, one that would not demand any serious decision making on her part.
After discovering both the terrace and the other bedroom were not occupied, she walked quietly into the living room and took stock of the situation.
Lin's frantic writhing, pained, no-fun-at-all expression, and well muffled screaming told Sims to follow her extensively knowledgeable instincts.
'GOODness,' pondered Molly. She immediately knelt to the task of undoing the knots that secured Lin's brutal hogtie to the arm glove ring.
Meanwhile, back at Angelina Cox's, a Studio form rolled out of her fax machine as an email appeared in her box. It read: 'Fill out the form, sign, and have it witnessed, then fax it back to the number at the bottom, and wait for the next instruction. If you don't sign on to The Studio, email me for an appointment by putting 'Chicken Suit' in the Subject field.'
"Witness? Where the hell am I going to find a witness at this time of the morning?" Stephanie immediately came to mind. "…Appointment for what?"
Molly decided not to undo Lin's rope blindfold, and kept a sharp eye on Stephanie as she worked the knots and such as best she could and decided to fuck Roger one more time. Of course, there was always the possibility that Lin would not undo her, which further added to the distress of the moment, which, in turn, gave her pussy another reason to twitch and gush.
'Whatever,' thought Molly after the last arm glove strap was undone. She then walked back into the hallway, leaving Lin to the task of freeing the rest of her exhausted bones and making a decision as to what would happen next.
Roger watched Sims enter the room, close and lock the door behind her, and get back onto his case.
It took Lin a few minutes to get free and decide to just leave things as they were, as opposed to getting further involved in the outrageous can of worms she'd unwittingly opened as a result of her concern for Stephanie's wellbeing.
'I'd better sleep on this before making any judgments,' she decided, then quietly left the apartment and headed back to her own.
As luck and coincidence would have it, just as she had gotten within a few yards of Angelina's door, it opened. The two damsels said nothing, but an aura of mystery did surround the encounter. An exchange of phony smiles also suggested to both that something uncharacteristic to their recently initiated tenant relationship was afoot.
Lin did, however, take note of the red chicken suit Angelina was wearing, but didn't look back after entering her apartment and closing the door.
'Looks like the party's over,' figured Cox before walking to and standing in front of Donna's apartment door. 'Better knock first.'
Nobody answered, which did much to add to the moisture that had been building down below ever since the sounds of muffled laughter brought the Brazilian-American sub to her terrace door. Now that Lin was out of the picture, a new strategy had to be formed, one that would give Angelina legitimate reason to poke her nose into things.
She carefully cracked the door a bit, saw nothing untoward and said, "Hello- anybody Home?"
Stephanie was still dead to the world on the couch, while Molly's muffled pleasure scrams subtly filled the apartment, giving Angelina further reason to enter and close the door behind her, which she locked. Her ear was soon pressed up against Donna's bedroom door.
'SOMEone got lucky last night,' she figured, then dashed back to the living room to sit next to Stephanie on the couch.
"Hey?" she said while nudging her neighbor on the knee. "Wake up."
As Danner regained consciousness, Cox fabricated a very concerned expression and continued nudging. When her target opened her eyes she said, "Are you alright?"
Stephanie immediately looked down at the floor for Lin; seeing that she wasn't there, she jumped up and off the couch and said, "Who?"
"I'm your next door neighbor," informed Angelina
Danner brought her right hand to her forehead and short-circuited for a few seconds. 'Holy shit.'
"I was on my terrace before, remember (?), and heard some very frantic sounds coming from your apartment."
Just then, Molly reached the apex of her current multiple, filling the moment with the unmistakable feedback of her current orgasmic completion.
"The door was unlocked, so I took the liberty of…Is everything OK?"
Stephanie quickly composed herself and said, "Give me a minute, will you," while leaving the room in search of Lin.
Angelina smiled, pulled her naked feet up under her butt and pleasured her now very wet spot with both hands.
"Sure."
After looking into her own room, Stephanie grabbed Donna's doorknob and discovered that whoever was in there had engaged the lock. Visions of what might have transpired since she'd conked out on the couch filled her frantic and very guilt-ridden thinking. She quickly pulled herself together and walked back into the living room, where she smiled and said to her innocent looking neighbor, "Everything is cool. Thank you for…uh…being so..."
It was then she became completely aware of the chicken suit Angelina was wearing. 'OH-boy.'
"OK- well, we can't be too cautious these days," said Cox while standing and heading for the door.
"Really," agreed Danner. "Thanks for your concern."
"No problem," said her dark-haired neighbor. She then stopped and turned from leaving to say, "I wonder if you would do me a small favor."
Stephanie was suddenly nervous with renewed wet spot activity. "Sure."
Angelina stepped to the dining room table, where she placed the Studio form she'd had in hand since entering the apartment, and asked, "Would you witness my signing this form?"
When it showed up on my office fax machine I smiled and punched up Stephanie's number.
Her answering tone was somewhat apprehensive. "Hello?"
"Hi- it's me."
"Oh, HI! Where are you?"
"Where would you like me to be?"
"…I was hoping I could be wherever you are."
I smiled knowingly. "Can you get to The Studio?"
Stephanie looked down at the two arm cloves on the floor, thought for a second, and said "No."
"I see that you and Angelina have met."
Danner's eyes widened a bit in the middle of a flashback of the form signing and witnessing. "How did you know that?"
"I have a fax copy of her disclaimer right here on my desk."
"Oh."
Just then, an envelope was slipped under the apartment door.
"Did she slip the original under your door yet?"
Stephanie stared down at the mail and smiled while trying to adjust further and further into the spirit of her next, forthcoming, Studio adventure.
"It just arrived."
"Good. Is it the original?"
"…Yes."
"Great. Having fun?"
She walked to and plopped down onto the couch, where she curled up and got into a more centered and seductive head. "Is Andy Rooney a curmudgeon?"
"How long will it take to get dressed for action?"
"How about a half hour."
"Make it twenty minutes."
While Stephanie prepared herself, Molly decided to pull out the pop knot that held Roger's wrist tether line to the bed bar, but remained impaled on his cock while he managed the difficult task of undoing both the gag and the several, tightly drawn, wrist cinch knots Donna had deliberately sewn into her latest conquest's dilemma.
The prospect of what would soon happen between she and the hunk gave Molly's passion new reasons to swell and drip with kinky trepidation. The closer Roger got to freeing himself, the hotter Sims got. 'This is soooo hot.'
Meanwhile, back at Angelina's, her own personal fashion show was in progress, with occasional glances at the clock to make sure she wasn't late for her first Studio encounter. She finally decided on an especially revealing, strapless, light blue teddy and six-inch pumps, a purposeful choice that, thanks to snaps at the crotch, made it possible to remove the garment more easily, should her rigger decide to do so mid bind or before.
"There- that should pop their eyes and cocks out when the time comes to lose the coat."
Fifteen minutes later
My last instruction to Stephanie was that she get into the white Porsche waiting for her on the driveway ramp in front of her building. She was not at all surprised to see Angelina in its driver's seat.
That was, however, not the case with Cox.
"You?"
Danner slammed the door, put on the seat belt, and scoped the full length, black leather coat her driver was wearing.
"Who were you expecting, Woody Woodpecker?"
Their conversation en route to The Studio was pedestrian and sparse; neither wanted to be the one to bring up their current hot topic. However, hard as they tried, they could not help but keep the psychic voltage in the car from escalating to hair-raising the deeper they descended into Manhattan.
Before discovering the apartment was empty, Roger frog-tied Molly on the bedroom floor to make sure she didn't get into any further mischief. Without undoing his penis confinement, he took a leisurely shower, finished off the quart of milk in the fridge, and made a few calls to free up his day.
No one had ever tied up his full blown erection before, or used him the way Donna and Molly had. Now that payback time had arrived, Roger was determined to balance the scales with at least one of them before setting the get-even wheels in motion with the other.
Molly's respect for his disciplined passion doubled as she waited the 30- minutes it took Roger to get back on HER case. The sound of the room key unlocking its door sent a kinky shiver up her spine to accompany the cold sweat that suddenly glazed her body with the fearful, physical fallout of her overwhelmed sensibilities.
'Wow.'
She didn't appear to be awake, but when the door was closed and locked she could not help but look up at Roger's chiseled hard body and the determined look on his handsome features. The cock bind had been removed, and, thanks to the hunks decision not to relieve himself of the bind until just before heading back to the bedroom, the rough line indentations it caused could be clearly seen.
'Oh-shit.'
Roger removed Molly's gag without saying a word, got into bed, and rewound the tape in Donna's VCR. He'd memorized the digit to the episode he most enjoyed while waiting for Donna to remove the hangman's noose that tethered Sims to the bedpost.
"Where's Donna?"
"I have no idea."
Just then, the phone signaled and the answering machine picked it up after the 4th ring.
"Hiy'all. Can anyone pick up this call?"
"…Well, hello, Donna."
"Well, hello, Roger." Her tone was decidedly provocative. "Having fun?"
"Tons. You?"
"Enough, for now. I do hope you enjoy Molly. She was the least I could do after what I put you through."
Roger did his best to hide his disgruntlement. "Where are you?"
"On my way to Cancun. Care to join me?"
"Sure, but not until I spend the rest of the day and night fucking Molly's brains out."
Later
When our latest dynamic duo pulled up in front of 325 East West Street, security surveillance cameras informed us of the event. Angelina's cell signaled, but she did not answer it, so I called Stephanie's.
"Hello?"
"Tell her to answer her cell the next time it rings."
"OK."
It rang again, and, again, it was ignored.
"I’d answer that if I were you," passed on Stephanie.
"Angelina Cox speaking."
"See the driveway two car lengths in front of you?"
"Yes."
"Pull into it."
I hung up and waited. She pulled up and into the driveway. We opened the door. As it rose on its collection spool, our most recently signed on Studio participants took deep breaths and exchanged nervous looks.
"You've been here before?"
"I'll say. You?"
Stephanie did her best to be nonchalant. "Oh, yeah- come here all the time."
The first thing they saw was a sign that read, 'Park in slot five number five, leave your belongings and keys in the car, and get into the red-framed elevator.'
While Angelina did just that, Stephanie answered her phone and listened for a few seconds before saying, "Got it," and hanging up.
When the two damsels stepped into the lift and its doors closed, my voice rang out on the intercom as they scoped the handcuffs hanging by a thread in the middle of the conveyance.
"Take off the leather coat, Cox, and let it fall to the floor."
She did so.
"Now face the wall to your right and put your hands, palm-to-palm, behind your back."
She did that too, and felt the cold grip of steel locking onto her right upper elbow.
"As tight as possible," said I from the main control room.
Angelina's mid arm joints were quickly secured together, with only an inch-and-a-half of wiggle room between cuffs. All she had on under the coat was the outfit she'd chosen earlier for the event her signed and witnessed Studio form specified.
The elevator started to rise. Both damsels watched the eight numbered lights above the door and, without turning their heads, threw each other sideward glances.
'Great body,' noticed Stephanie, just as the slow moving lift passed the 6th floor.
'I wonder how they knew to send me the form and, what did he call it, the chicken suit?'
How we knew was that I'd been approached by a very rich, very concerned Studio member who had a daughter he loved dearly, but who, up until recently, knew nothing of her bondage orgasm habit. It wasn't until pictures of Ms. Cox started showing up on the sample pages of a few fetish sites frequented by her dad that he caught wind of his daughter's secret life.
Though Angelina had done her best to keep the details of her kinky activity from dad, thanks to the best private investigator in town, and a mole he'd inserted into her circle, he'd managed to learn all he needed to know in order to justify Studio involvement.
I immediately started looking for a safe place for Angelina to live, while her dad suggested to her that it was high time she moved out of his Long Island mansion and maintain a place of her own. Coincidentally, Donna learned of the available apartment next to hers and immediately put me in touch with the building's rental agent. Yada, yada, yada.
When The Studio's service elevator reached the eighth floor and its doors opened, Stephanie stepped off and into the gold walled, white ceiling vestibule beyond. Angelina followed, only to be stopped by the sound of my voice over the intercom.
"Stay on the lift, Angelina."
She backed up and onto her coat, the doors closed, and Cox was lowered to her dream-come-true, with the envelope containing the original of her Studio form lying on the floor behind her. Danner had seen to that. She also knew the door in front of her was unlocked, and that she could open it and step into her next adventure anytime she wished, or wait for me to make the next move. She hesitated for a few seconds as I watched from the control room with 'Q.'
"A box of Macanudos says she waits," he wagered.
"You're on."
Two seconds later, Stephanie Danner stepped forward, opened the door and gingerly walked into my apartment.
She smiled at what she saw. "Oh-wow, VERY cool."
All the lights were on, giving my favorite damsel a fully illuminated look at my 5000-square-foot crib. Nothing in it, however, suggested that I was into what was coming down on the fourth floor.
Stephanie was immediately drawn to an area resplendent with TV screens. She lost her fighter pilot jacket en route and wondered if her activity was also being monitored when she saw what the screens revealed. They were tracking Angelina's every move, which eventually ended her up under the spotlight in the center of floor four's main workout/ballroom.
After splashing down and into the cushy sofa in front of the show in her black-leather, mini-skirt and long-sleeved, white-silk blouse, Stephanie kicked off her 6-inch, black, patent-leather heels and got into The Studio's current program.
'I could get used to this,' she quipped, with a tinge of jealous concern, as she watched me bind Angelina's wrists together, palm-to-palm, with a ten-foot length of eighth-inch thick, cotton line and listened to the following exchange.
"Who are you?"
"You can call me Master."
"How did you know…"
"I'm psychic."
"No- really, why did you send ME the chicken suit and form?"
"Guess."
I finished up with the wrist cinch, making it especially tight. The elbow cuffs were quickly removed and replaced with several turns of quarter-inch cotton line.
She was now breathing very heavily and obviously in a state of pleasurable distress. "My ex?"
"Guess again."
"Jewel?"
I again made sure the elbow cinch was as tight as I could make it.
"Who is Jewel?"
"Uh, nevermind."
I dropped the first bomb as I knotted things off. "Actually, it was Angel Devlin who steered us in your direction."
A powerful burst of kinky excitation raced to Angelina's pussy when she heard her bondage modeling name. It never occurred to her that anyone would recognize her in the pictures for which she'd posed and signed releases. The sites they appeared on were not what one would call top of the line, let alone heavily member-shipped.
"But how did you…"
"We webmaster one of the sites," I lied.
"…OK."
"Anymore questions?"
"Just one…How do my next door neighbors fit into all of this?"
"Sorry- that's classified. Turn around." She did. I stared her down and said, "Now I've got one for you: why do you want to be a bondage model?"
Angelina didn't blink or avert her gaze. "I want to be tied up by the best riggers on the planet all the time."
"Whoooooo," commented Stephanie from the comfort of her front row seat to Cox's revelation. "I hear that!"
It was time to drop the second bomb of Angelina's odyssey.
What would you say if I said you could have that and more right here at The Studio without having to plaster your bound and bothered bones all over the internet?"
She gave me a wide-eyed stare and gave the arm and wrist cinches a writhing tug. "Whenever I feel like it?"
I smiled and assured her, "Anytime, anywhere, any way, any hour, and for however long."
"Conditions?"
I pulled her form out of my back pocket and waved it in Angelina's face.
"Did you read the small print in the back?"
"I did."
"Think you can abide by Studio rules?"
"I can."
"Good," said I before grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the spotlight and onto door number five, 'The Rope Room.'
When we stepped in, Angelina's knees buckled a bit at the sight of all the various kinds of rope hanging from the seams of the mirrored walls of the well lit, 30-foot-in-diameter, circular room. A lone piece of furniture stood at its center; a strongly constructed, plain, wooden chair with three cross braces on its backrest and, except for the front, six on its legs, all parallel to the floor, which was highly polished, hard, dark wood.
I quickly and tightly applied a four-inch-wide blindfold made from a tire inner tube. It was four feet long, but stretched to four-and-a-half when two layers were secured in back with two knots.
"Ever been bound by a superstar rigger?"
"No."
With that I closed and locked the door to 'The Rope Room' and headed for the service elevator and Stephanie's disappointment over not being able to see what was going on in room number five.
Angelina's love affair with and search for excruciatingly tight, rope bondage had been going on ever since age thirteen, when a secretly jealous schoolmate, with decidedly homosexual tendencies, hogtied Cox on a dare, in her Bikini, during a pool party held at a mutual friend's home. She'd been left alone, with the door locked, on a bed that had been moved to the window of the room so the unusually and unexpectedly turned on teen could watch what was going on at the party while she fought to escape the hundred or so feet of clothesline Marsha Walsh had used to thoroughly bind her unsuspecting victim.
Cox had never been tied up before. The experience was, to say the least, overwhelming; an epiphany, as it were; an eye-opener of unparalleled, pleasurably sensual proportions. Consequently, for the next thirteen years, she'd spent most of her free time seeking out others of her bent that were as passionate about bondage and discipline as she was.
As Angelina lay struggling in bed, and realizing there was no way to escape the expertly designed bind, Marsha roamed the party, making sure her very hot-n-bothered plaything would never lose sight of her from the window. As she did, the blonde bombshell flaunted her Bikini clad figure and connected with several boys she knew her captive liked, pointing to the house and laughing as she flirted. The boys would look up at the sheer curtained, second floor windows, say things that Angelina could not hear, while sprouting all kinds of devilish expressions. Marsha took great pleasure in playing to their sexual inexperience and made it look like she was talking about what was going on in the second floor bedroom. In point of fact, however, their conversations had nothing whatsoever to do with Cox's predicament.
Angelina was not gagged, but a tight crotch rope did help stimulate the frantically struggling teen into her first bondage orgasm. The rest, as they say, is history.
The door to 'The Rope Room' opened again, but footsteps could not be heard, which offered a false clue as to the identity of the rigger we'd managed to round up on short notice for the groundbreaking event.
"Sit in the chair," said 'Q' over the intercom.
Angelina knew it was about ten feet away and in the direction she was facing. It took her almost a minute to obey the instruction. As soon as she sat down, her bound arms were pulled in back of the chair and a line tied to the elbow cinch. Its other end was then threaded between the back of her forearms, then down under the middle cross brace and up to the top one, where it was tied off after every millimeter of slack was pulled out.
"Uuh!" commented Angelina when the top chair brace dug deep into her armpits and another jolt of sensual appreciation raced to her now very lubricated and twitching pussy. 'Hot.'
The mystery rigger said nothing as he ran four tight circles of 3/8ths-inch-thick hemp around his damsel's waist and forearms, which further pinned Angelina's back and limbs to the chair. The remaining slack was used to very tightly cinch and secure this second aspect of a fix its rigger had been improvising as he went along.
Cox was beside herself with respect, admiration and satisfaction as she tested the ropes and realized she was most certainly going to be tied up tighter than she had ever been tied up before. The Studio disclaimer form and her insatiable desire to be brutally bound with rope had seen to that.
'Woah.'
Three more circles of hemp were applied around her upper arms, which pulled them together closer than they had ever been forced to before. The remaining 20-feet of rope continued around her torso three times, stacked just above her gorgeously billowing breasts, further requiring the strapless teddy to stretch the outer limits of its designer's specifications to accommodate the 'D' cups they restrained.
When the knots were set, the rigger undid the ones that held the elbow line that ran under the second cross brace to the top of the backrest. For when the first turns of rope pulled Angelina's upper arms closer together, that line loosened somewhat, requiring a half-inch tightening adjustment that was then re-knotted to the top of the chair.
'Wow- this guy is good,' realized Cox with mixed appreciation and a dash of delightful regret. 'Something tells me I should have researched this bunch before signing on.'
"Stand up," said 'Q' after pulling most of his woody influenced self together and throwing the dead bolt to the control room to make sure his privacy would not be prematurely interrupted.
Angelina didn't immediately understand the instruction.
"You can do it."
"Oh," she figured before leaning forward and carefully raising herself and the chair off the floor and standing hunched over in a most precarious posture.
While she did, her rigger affixed a skyhook to both the inner and outer, upper arm circles, tightening things up a bit more than our latest Studio damsel imagined it could be.
"Ankles and knees together."
Angelina obeyed and felt the pressure on the pinched circles increase when all the slack was taken out of the overhead line by a motorized winch.
Her ankles and lower thighs were then tightly and parallel bound and cinched with ten and twenty foot lengths of hemp, respectively. A thinner length secured her heeled feet together as well.
It was then that the intensity of what she'd gotten herself into started to hit her where she lived. Angelina's nipples were now rock hard. Her pussy also reeked with the unmistakable aroma of vital affectation.
'Q' then reversed the action on the winch and said, "Sit Down."
As Cox descended and sat, the rigger threaded a line between the bottom of one of the wrist cinch circles, pulled through about four feet of slack, and slipped its end under Angelina's perfect rear end, then up between her legs to the waist circles, where it was tied off.
The other end was threaded between the back of her calves, guided over and under the foot/shoe bind cinch, and back under the chair. He then grabbed a fistful of upper arm ropes and pulled the chair back on its rear legs to a 45-degree angle so that his damsel's feet could clear the floor as he pulled on the rope until Angelina's lower legs were raised up under the chair.
'Uh-man.'
This brought several pounds of pressure to bear on Cox's crevice, but not all the slack was pulled out the semi-hogtie line. The chair was then set back on all fours while the line continued between the back of her wrist cinch, which had tightened a bit more as a consequence of the new bind wrinkle.
'Holy SHIT!'
While holding onto the tension in one hand, and with some difficulty, the rigger threaded the other end of the line up under the back of the inner tube blindfold turns and knots.
"Head back," said 'Q,' in a stricter tone than had been used before.
While the rigger's left hand maintained tension on the lower end of the line, his right pulled down on the gag tether. He then lost the remaining slack in both handfuls as much as his strength could manage. Angelina's feet rose further off the floor; the crotch rope pressure tripled, and the wrist cinch lines tightened to the max.
"OH!" commented Angelina when her head was pulled back as far as it would go and the end of the line was passed under and over all the upper arm circles, where its remaining slack was collected in several cinch turns and knotted off.
"Oh-my-god."
The chair was then dragged back a few feet and a length of one-and-a-half-inch-wide, tire inner tubing was brought to bear around Angelina breasts and centered right over her rock hard nipples. It ran back under the top cross brace of the chair, over the arms as well, and the ends knotted together. The tension was not extreme, but tight enough to dig into Angelina's ample mounds a good inch or so.
She'd been wondering why her binder hadn't as yet paid any attention to her figure's best features. She wondered no longer.
The chair was then lifted off the floor from behind and made to stand and teeter on its front legs.
"Think you can maintain your balance all by yourself," challenged 'Q.'
Angelina immediately answered, "HELL no."
"Then let's make sure you remain in this position."
The skyhook was then reattached to the inner tube strip, knot junction before the winch was activated to pull out all the slack. That's when something very unexpected happened, taking Angelina well beyond any ideas she might have had as to what was going to happen after she checked the box on The Studio form that gave us the right to inflict the highest, no limit level of damsel-in-distress difficulty we had to offer.
Slowly but surely, the rigger lowered the chair forward, which took all the slack out of the skyhook line, thereby severely tightening the inner tube strip around and over Angelina's breasts and nipples. While the pressure was not determined by the full and combined weight of her body and the chair, given how much of that weight the front legs sustained, it was, nonetheless, enough to send Cox into a tailspin of unimaginable, half-hearted concern and regret.
"Damn!" yelled the 26-year-old damsel before hearing the door being slammed and locked.
She'd finally gotten herself into a fix worthy to compete with her wildest fantasy.
"Holy Fucking SHIT!" appreciated Angelina as the first multiple of her first Studio experience took over and she struggled wildly, 'suffering' every last turn of rope, inner tubing and dilemma to heighten the moment as only knowing there was no way out can do to subs of her extreme persuasion.
She immediately noticed that, thanks to upper brace bar on the back of the chair, the rubber strip would remain as it was around her breasts no matter what position she managed to navigate, forward or backward.
'Diabolical,' appreciated Angelina while swaying to and fro in the too-tight fix and climaxing continuously in her love/hate relationship with the multi-leveled genius of the rope work. 'I wonder why they didn't gag me.'
Though the session was being CD recorded, it was not being shown on the monitors in my apartment, or anywhere else in The Studio network. However, we could hear everything Angelina had to say about her pleasurable and increasingly painful ordeal.
Stephanie and I listened while making out on my couch.
'Q' watched and listened alone from the control room.
The mystery rigger witnessed the show, 'live,' doing the best he could not to make his 15-feet-away presence known.
Angelina's orgasmic feedback bristled with ecstatic agony, propelling her into places she never knew existed within her sensual matrix. Almost everything she ever wanted to have happen to her was now happening to her…almost.
"Unbe-fucking-LIEVABLE!.. Oh-my…Oh-my…OHOHOHOH!!!...This is absolutely un-fucking REEEEAAAL!"
Seven Minutes Later
'Q's' timing was impeccable. "You have ten seconds to answer one question."
Angelina's climactic exhaustion drew near. "AND IF I DON'T ANSWER!!" she screamed between deeply violent inhalations of much needed oxygen.
"Had enough?"
"ENOUGH?! ENOUGH?! OHOHOHOH!... What kind of a FUCKING question is THAT!!"
"Seven seconds."
"YESSSSSSS!...NOOOOOOO!"
"You have four seconds to make up your mind."
"My MIND! …WHAT mind!….I don't … I… I don't KNOOOOOOWWW!"
It was time for 'Q' to inject a bit of technically correct humor into the mix. "Is that your final answer."
Angelina suddenly felt her mouth being filled with what seemed like a thick skinned balloon, which was immediately inflated, pressing harshly against every square inch.
"NAHAHAHAHAH!!!"
Another winch hook was lowered and secured to a ring in the center of the bottom cross brace in between the back legs of the chair. The other winch was then activated to lower Angelina's breasts to within a foot of the floor. The balloon gag feeder tube was disconnected and the rear of the chair lifted off the floor by the second winch.
"AHHH AHHH AHHHHHH!" ("OH MY GAHAHD!")
Every calorie of Angelina's remaining strength tore into her bondage. Every finger stretched and danced in perfect, visual concert with the multi-toned harmony of emotionally charged distress and satisfaction both inwardly and outwardly imploding and pouring forth from out of the deepest reaches of her sensual astonishment and overwhelmed gratification.
"I'd give my diamond earrings to see what's going on down there," said Stephanie as we rolled off the couch and onto the floor.
I gave her reason to hope. "She'll have the only copy. Maybe you can convince her to let you see it someday."
"Do I get a copy of what you did with me?"
"We haven't finished the edit yet."
She kissed me passionately… "I love you, John Roper."
"I'll bet you say that to all the guys who tie you up."
She smiled, stood up, and started to remove her blouse. "You're right, all one of them."
I stood and unbuckled my belt. "I love you too, Stephanie Danner."
Before leaving Angelina to her more-than-what-she-wished-for distress, the rigger left a clue to his identity. "If you ever want to play with me again, ask JR for LR."
It was the first time Angelina heard the sound of her binder's voice.
'Who's JR.?'
The next thing she heard was the sound of the door opening and closing.
'Q' decided to continue his train of thought. "Wanna change your final answer?"
Again, Angelina Cox could not make up her mind, opting instead to abandon herself to the whims erections of her newfound playmates. What she DID know, however, was that there was no longer any need to rent her bones to riggers who might or might not give her what she wanted in the way of redlining, over-the-top, to-the-max, sadistically inconsiderate rope bondage.
Timelessness
The chair was lowered to the floor and a good two feet of slack taken out of the suspension lines. Angelina's chin, chest and knees were the only parts of her body that made contact with the floor.
"When you want out," optioned 'Q,' "just roll over onto your side."
Angelina was trying to do just that seconds before the offer was made. When she realized it wouldn't take too much effort, the masochistic, rope bondage lover decided to linger a bit in her super-tightly restrained posture while the post-orgasmic fallout of the most outrageously pleasurable bondage orgasm of her life tapered off and into the hallowed realms of the deliciously unforgettable.
The balloon gag pressure increased considerably; her knees began to smart, and a whole new awareness of herself unfolded within the bondage damsel's realm of possibility. In short, Angelina Cox had found her current niche in life, and was not about to lose it until her satisfaction threshold had been thoroughly satiated.
'I wonder what happens when the rules are broken around here.'
And Stephanie thought, as she felt the tight embrace of thin line around her crossed wrists behind her back, 'I wonder what happened to Lin.'
To be continued…
John Roper
02.08.06
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