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She was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea after all. Her nipples, pinched by the clamps, were throbbing, her naked body sweating and cooled by the ceiling fan, her pussy tingling, dripping wet and begging for attention, her arms and legs and jaw all starting to ache, and she still had no idea what he was going to do to her.

She had no idea how long she had been standing there waiting for him. Twenty minutes, a half hour, maybe even an hour? She wasn't even certain he was in the house, which worried her a bit. Not a peep out of him. Had she gotten the right night? Yes. The door was unlocked, and everything waiting for her as per his instructions. So where was he? She was getting more and more nervous as time went by, and she'd already started the evening with trepidation.

After all, they had only met briefly the one time. He'd come across as a nice guy with a strong interest and a lot of experience in bondage. She had often had fantasies of being tied up, utterly helpless, and being used by a man any way she saw fit. She hadn't really considered actually living out that fantasy, but she'd mentioned it to him when they were talking at the munch.

When she got the email the next day with the instructions, she initially thought she wasn't going to go through with it. The instructions were simple: Do not reply to his email, but be at his house at exactly 8 PM on Friday, and walk in the front door without knocking or ringing the bell. She would find an envelope sitting on the foyer table with further instructions, which she was to follow to the letter. That was it. No mention of what he would do to her. No mention of what to do if she didn't want to play with him or negotiate things. Just commands.

But as the week went on, the fantasies in her head ran away with her. Could she maybe live it out? On Friday, she was still torn, so she drove to his neighborhood early and looked at his house. It looked like a nice suburban house, hardly noteworthy. There was no car in the driveway, but there was an attached garage. The lights were on downstairs. As 8 PM approached, she'd decided that she would regret it if she passed up the chance, so at 8 PM on the dot, she walked through his front door.

As she walked through it in her mind now, she started to think that maybe following through with the instructions wasn't the smartest idea. She'd set up no limits, no safe words, and no time constraints. She hadn't told him that he couldn't have sex with her, nor even insisted on protection, or even limited it to just him. Nobody knew where she had gone. Her mind began to imagine the worst - for all she knew he could keep her prisoner for days, weeks, even months, and he could torture and fuck her any way he wanted. On the one hand, it frightened her, but it also turned her on at the same time. If only he'd come and take those nipple clamps off!

That, at least, was her damned fault. When she opened the envelope on the foyer table, the instructions were very clear. She had locked and bolted the front door. She had diligently gone to the bathroom even though she hadn't really needed to. She had undressed and carefully folded her clothes, and put them on the foyer table. She had walked into the living room and found the couch with the ball gag, blindfold, and a pair of nipple clamps, handcuffs, and two padlocks on it. She put on the ball gag, which was a bit larger than she liked, but she tightened it to the point of discomfort because she didn't want to be able to spit it out.

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“THAT IS ONE BIG FUCKING CANVAS,” Jim Schroeder commented as we stood in front of the wall. Jim was one of the several volunteers from PCAD that had come out for the start of the mural project. Doc had vetted all the art volunteers standing with me. Jim was a senior and had been a focal point artist on one of Doc’s murals three years ago. He was one of thirty volunteers wearing hardhats and huddled under umbrellas as we walked out of the Athletic Pavilion to go look at the wall we were going...

The Hotter The DaughterChapter 6

As she and Frankie sipped their wine, Johnny sat down on the overstuffed chair across the room and beckoned to her mother. "Sit on my lap, Sarah." He winked mischievously. The woman giggled like a teenager. She walked over to the boy and stretched out across his knees, her hands draped around his neck. "Now where did we leave off?" Johnny grinned. Sarah parted her unbuttoned blouse, staring lewdly into the boy's dark-brown eyes. "You were just about to kiss my tits," she said,...

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