ADVERSITY (Continued)

Postby sarobah » Sat Apr 14, 2012 3:37 pm

This story is continued from
viewtopic.php?f=38&t=13862
because the content has become more risqué than I originally intended.
Having said that, I’m not really happy with this chapter; but I’ve been agonizing over it for a couple of days, so I guess I should just post it.
To paraphrase Eisenhower: “The consequences of another postponement are too grave to contemplate.”


5. The Rules of the Game

I relaxed a little when I heard Rick chuckle from somewhere behind me, but he said nothing, and I turned my attention back to the stranger.

The man reached out and thrust a hand towards my chest. I cringed, but he just laughed and grabbed the strap which ran down my front to my wrists behind my back. With his other hand, he seized Annie’s. He drew us toward him until I felt his hot breath ruffling the sweat-plastered hair on my forehead. Then he began backing up, towards the house, pulling us along with him. He wasn’t moving fast, but shackled, stooped and hobbled, we had trouble keeping up with him. Frantically, panting and groaning through our gags, we both swung our heads around to see if Rick was following; but he had disappeared from sight.

It was an old-fashioned farmhouse, weather-beaten, in want of re-roofing and needing a paint job, untidy and neglected – desperate for a woman’s touch was what came to my mind (rather absurdly, given the circumstances). Half a dozen creaky steps led onto a broad veranda. We should not have had too much trouble climbing the stairs – a couple of hours of shuffling across meadows and creek beds had sharpened our skills – but the man was impatient, and kept yanking on our halters to keep us moving. We nearly stumbled a couple of times, but got no sympathy, only a sharper tug and a snort of annoyance that we weren’t keeping up .

When we were finally up on the porch, the man let go of the straps and ordered us to kneel. Without the use of my hands and with my ankles constrained, this was impossible to do without dropping onto my knees. The impact with the wooden boards sent a shock of pain up my thighs. Annie, however, lost her balance and pitched forward. I didn’t have time to react as she hit the deck with a dull thud. The neck chain jerked and I toppled along with her, bracing myself for the blow as my chest and chin rammed onto the floor.

It was a mild collision and I was only stunned for a second. Annie tried to get up onto her knees, but collapsed again and started squirming. The man planted his boot on her backside.

“Be still,” he growled. He spoke quietly but there was a cold, harsh edge to his voice. Annie whimpered, but settled down. I expected him to order us onto our knees, but he said “Stay there” and I heard him open the door. It wheezed and groaned on rusty hinges. He went inside the house, then came back out and crouched between our prostrate bodies. He put one hand around my waist and the other around Annie’s and, with a single heave, lifted us into a kneeling position. That took a lot of strength, but then he gently stroked my face and wiped a dab of saliva from the corner of my mouth. His fingers were not coarse like a farmer’s, and I remembered Rick saying he was an architect. I looked into his eyes. They were greenish-grey, and seemed to convey both tenderness and firmness.

But what he did next was awesome. He got between us again and, facing in the opposite direction to us, leaned forward until his shoulders were between Annie’s and my midsections. He gripped my backside, clenching a fistful of my bare flesh, and suddenly raised himself, in a single smooth movement, until he was standing upright, with his two bound, naked captives slung over his shoulders. Annie and I are both small, but that was nevertheless quite a feat. He staggered just a bit, and I was terrified he would fall backwards, hurling me face-forward to the floor; but he steadied himself and carried us into the house. He had to manoeuvre sideways to get us through the doorway, and my head banged lightly against the jamb.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

He hauled us though the living room. It was flamboyantly luxurious, nothing understated, with plush carpet, sumptuous furniture, grandiose fireplace, ornate chandelier. A large bookcase displayed an impressive collection of expensive leather-bound volumes, and the corner bar held a comprehensive range of wines and liqueurs. On one wall hung a large nude portrait of a strikingly beautiful woman, a brunette wearing a diamond-studded choker and tiara. She bore a striking, feminine resemblance to our host – mother or sister, it had to be. So strange.

He took us into the kitchen, which was by contrast to the living room cluttered and grimy, looking very much unused.

“Can’t have you dirty girls soiling the rugs,” he said as he dumped us onto the cold, hard tiles.

He left us there, and I could hear him and Rick talking in the other room. Neither of us moved, as we lay there side-by-side. Annie’s face was sweaty and flushed, but her eyes sparkled, and a smile curled around the red ball.

The men came into the kitchen but ignored us. Rick’s friend took two bottles of beer from the refrigerator and brushed the dust and cobwebs off two stools. They sat for a long time, sipping their drinks and looking down on us as we grovelled before them on the unswept terrazzo.

Finally, Rick spoke.

“This is my good friend David. Say hello, girls.”

We muffled a greeting through our gags, and for additional effect I wiggled my backside. That elicited a laugh.

“I like her,” David said.

“She’s yours,” Rick replied.

I gurgled an indignant protest. I wasn’t sure what he meant, and I really should have been a little less flippant about my situation. But by now I was feeling light-headed, and in any case, I had been at Rick’s mercy for several hours now. I figured that if things were going to turn out badly, they already would have. And maybe that’s not the smartest philosophy to guide you through life. But I guess I’m like the guy who fell out of a tall building. As he dropped past each floor, the people inside heard him say… “So far, so good.”

So far, so good.

Staring torpidly at David’s boots, I was startled when they suddenly moved. The two men got to their feet, leaned over us and unbuckled our gags. I sucked in a huge breath, licked my chapped and chafed lips, exercised my aching jaws.

“Don’t say a thing,” Rick commanded. “You only speak if you really need to. Understand?”

I nodded, twisting my head sideways to look up at them.

“Welcome to my home,” David said. “As you can see, the kitchen doesn’t get much use.” He paused and chuckled. “You’ll be taking care of that.”

As he said this, he crouched down beside me and lifted my feet until he had my legs in a hog-tie position. He bound my ankles to my wrists. Annie and I were still lying on our stomachs. The hog-tie was so stringent that my shoulders and knees were raised off the floor. My crotch-rope had been compelling me to bend my torso slightly to relieve the strain, but now the pressure was reversed and I was forced to arch my body backwards. The leather strap penetrated relentlessly, front and back, inducing once again that queer combination of pain and pleasure. Beside me, Annie was puffing and grunting as the same was done to her.

“We’ll be here a week,” David continued, “that is, unless you give it up and go home... which you can do at any time. We want this to be fun for all of us, you see.”

“You will be restrained for all that time,” Rick took over. “You will always have something – gag, blindfold, chains, or whatever...”

I gave a half-hearted nod, but I was wondering about that “whatever.”

“There will be plenty of playtime,” David continued. “There will be rituals as well, and lots of other things to keep us entertained.”

“But there’s more,” Rick went on.

“Okay,” I thought, “here it comes.” I glanced towards Annie to see if she was reacting. Her head was now turned away from me, but she appeared to be nodding.

“Naturally, you have the right to stop the game at any time; but there’ll be a price.” Rick’s tenor changed. “You have to co-operate entirely. Any bratty behaviour and you’ll be punished. If either of you continues to break the rules or disobey instructions, it’s over. We go home. Got it?”

Again I nodded. Annie made an “mmm” sound.

“Good girls.” Rick sounded pleased, with us and with himself. “Now you can speak.”

“I understand, sir,” Annie replied.

“I understand… sir,” I said, through gritted teeth.

The strain of the hog-tie was intense, and the crotch-rope was once again having its effect. It had begun to dry out, and drying leather tends to shrink. I steeled my nerves. “I’m sorry, but I have to say something else.”

I’m sure I heard a sharp intake of breath.

“I need to pee.”

Both men laughed. For one alarming second, I feared they were laughing at me, that I was in trouble.

“Of course,” David responded.

Annie and I were freed from our hog-ties. The release felt good, but also kind of disappointing. As if I’d failed a test. The guys helped us to our feet.

“Out through there, down the corridor and turn left,” our host explained. “Wait a minute,” he added. I paused for him to remove my crotch-rope, but instead he held up our ball-gags. “We can’t have you females yapping and gossiping as soon as you’re out of sight.”

Having practised and perfected our synchronised hobble over rough ground, we had no trouble negotiating the short passageway to the bathroom; but the cramped confines of the toilet alcove presented a different challenge. Annie mumbled what sounded like “You first,” so I manoeuvred myself into position, and she had to bend over as I sat down. Being naked, I didn’t have to worry about getting my pants off, but that damnable crotch-rope was still in place, so I had to lean forward, forcing Annie even lower, staring at the back of my head or straight into my lap. A few seconds later I felt blessed relief, but now I had something else to deal with – a shrunken leather strap, wet again and wedged tighter than ever between my legs. Oh goodie, I thought, this will be fun.

Annie and I changed positions. As we turned in the narrow space, we were squeezed together. She was so buzzed that I could feel her heart beating furiously through her chest. We stared into each other’s eyes, and she had the strangest of looks – of defiance and fury and shame – like a wild beast being tamed.

Either her body was more supple than mine, or her crotch-rope was not as tight, because she managed, even with her hands pinioned behind her, to move it out of the way. Leaning over her, my legs astride her knees, I had an excellent vantage point, and as I viewed the proceedings, my brain switched to flashback mode. This time yesterday, I was sitting in the faculty lounge, organizing next semester’s lecture materials on my laptop. Could even I, with all my own unique experiences, have imagined what I’d be doing just twenty-four hours later? And what would my class of callow undergrads think of their fearsome mentor – I had a formidable reputation in the department – if they could see her now? I must have giggled at the thought, because Annie mumbled some disapproving sounds. I looked up and her “What’s so funny?” expression was priceless.

I dribbled – I didn’t mean to – and a little globule dropped onto her thigh and rolled languidly down the inside. Annie made a nasty noise through her gag.

When we emerged, our menfolk were waiting for us in the living room. They were sitting on the sofa, with new beers. Rick waved his hand to call us to them, but in the middle of the room we were told to stop.

“Annie, sweetheart,” he said, “what’s happened there?” He was pointing towards her belly. He turned to me. “Fix it.”

Obediently, I twisted away from Annie and backed up until my fingers found the leather strap running the length of her torso. Shifting it wasn’t easy, with my arms shackled behind me. Whenever I moved them, the action pulled on my own crotch-rope. I ran my fingers down the strap, and she flinched and gasped as I slid it back into place. I glanced at the men, still lounging on the sofa, watching us with amused arousal.

Rick again motioned with his hand for us to kneel. When we’d done so – without tumbling this time – he and David began to discuss and evaluate our bodies. It wasn’t crude but it was all the same demeaning, especially when they started comparing our attributes. Annie scored higher on breasts, I did better on backside, and so on. The comments were, I have to admit, complimentary… which, oddly enough, I found more distasteful than if they’d been merely vulgar. But I could tell from their tone of voice that the guys were trying to elicit some sort of reaction from us. We refused to take the bait.

“Well, girls,” Rick finally said. “Are we ready for the games to begin?”

Funny, I thought they already had.

“Remember this, you’re not just playthings…”

“You’re our slavegirls,” David interjected. “What that means is that you’ll be making yourself useful in other ways as well. As you’ve seen from the state of the place, the house needs fixing up and the yard needs work as well. So there’s lots of stuff to keep you girls busy and out of mischief when you’re not entertaining us…”

“Or when we’re not entertaining you,” Rick added quickly.

Re: ADVERSITY (Continued)

Postby vantran » Sun Apr 15, 2012 8:00 am

I don't do nudity but nice story

Re: ADVERSITY (Continued)

Postby sarobah » Sun Apr 15, 2012 8:49 pm

vantran wrote:I don't do nudity ...

Neither do I... often.
:o)
~ Sarah
Words, like Nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

Re: ADVERSITY (Continued)

Postby sarobah » Wed Apr 18, 2012 9:44 pm

6. Afternoon Delight

From the rising pitch and tremor in his voice, I could tell that Rick was becoming excited. Suddenly he reached down from where he sat and unfastened the chain connecting my collar with Annie’s. He sprang to his feet and scooped his girlfriend up in his arms. He carried her out of the room and down the corridor. She wriggled about in his clutches and kicked out with her shackled legs, but I caught a brief glimpse of her face. She did not seem unhappy as she was taken away to the bedroom.

Left alone and helpless with David, I looked up at him. Abruptly he got to his feet, and I felt a momentary surge of alarm; but he went straight past me. I started to twist around see what he was up to.

“Stay still,” he commanded. I could hear the clink of ice cubes tumbling into a glass.

He came up behind me and before I could see what he was doing black satin descended over my eyes. He tied the blindfold very tight, wrenching my head back and shoving it forward brusquely as he did so; but then he loosened the strap on my gag. He didn’t unbuckle and take it off completely, but left it suspended around my neck, ready for reinsertion at his whim.

He played with strands of my hair for a minute or so, rubbing it against my cheeks and over my lips. He ran his fingertips down my neck, across my shoulder and along my arm, lightly scratching the tingling skin with his nails. He pulled and pushed on my wrist cuffs, as if making sure they were secure.

“You can relax,” he said. I heard the sigh of a cushion as he sat down, but his voice was coming from behind me, from one of the armchairs.

All I could really do to “relax” was sit back on my heels, though bent forward at the waist, as if bowing in submission, to ease the pressure on my crotch-strap. At least the new position gave my aching knees a rest. They had suffered quite a bit of punishment today. All my limbs were beginning to stiffen. I flexed and stretched them as much as I was able.

I heard David sipping his drink, which reminded me how thirsty I was.

“Master, may I have a drink, please?”

“Of course,” he said. He got up, and I felt something hard and cold pressing against my lips. I rolled the ice around in my mouth, letting it melt into my throat. It felt good. It had the slightly smoky taste and velvety texture of Scotch.

When he’d sat down again, we talked. It was rather weird having a conversation, bound and blindfolded on the floor, talking to a guy sitting behind me. But in a day of strange experiences, the weird was already becoming ordinary.

“Rick tells me you’re in postgrad study. What’s your speciality?” I told him and he sounded impressed.

“You’re very attractive.”

“I know.”

“No false modesty. I like that. Beauty and brains – great combination.” That probably came out more condescending than he intended. We talked more about me, about him and his career as an architect, his friendship with Rick, the farmhouse. I don’t remember much of what he told me.

“I’m not really into the country life, but this place is my getaway – peace, quiet and… privacy.” The break before that last word seemed ominous. The pause resumed for a few seconds more, as if he was deep in thought about something. “Just about everything in the valley belongs to me. I don’t get out here as often as I would like, but when I do, I make the most of it.”

“I’m sure you do,” I meant to say it to myself, but it blurted out. He just laughed.

He suddenly changed the subject. “How long have you been into this?”

“What... bondage?” He didn’t answer. “I’ve been playing tie-up games since I was a little girl.”

“So this is a game to you?”

It took me a moment to decipher what he meant. I searched for the right words. “It’s what I do; it’s not what I am.”

“Yeah, I think I get that. More ice?”

“Yes please.”

He slid another cube between my lips. There was no trace of Scotch on this one – he must have sucked it, which bothered me less than it would have before today. And as his fingers passed between my lips, they lingered inside my mouth, probing and exploring. But if he expected me to remain totally docile, he needed an awakening. I clamped my teeth lightly on his fingers, and he got the message and withdrew them.

I expected some sort of reprisal, but all he said was “You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you.”

“Not a pushover,” replied the naked, bound, blindfolded girl kneeling on the floor, fully aware of the irony.

“We’ll see.”

Before I could answer, I heard shuffling, and suddenly David had his hands on my shoulders. He pulled, not gently, and I fell backwards, spitting out what was left of my ice cube. He turned me onto my stomach, seized my legs, bent up my knees and locked my wrist and ankle cuffs together once more. Then he grabbed my crotch-rope, where the leather strap emerged from its burial place between my buttocks, and hauled upwards.

I squealed.

“Too painful?” he said.

“I’ve had worse,” I said, with as much plucky defiance as I could muster through clenched teeth.

“Brave girl,” he laughed, as he fiddled with the strap of my gag before ramming the ball between my jaws. “Let’s see how…”

“Turn her over.” It was Rick’s voice interrupting.

David flipped me onto my back, but as soon as he let go I rolled onto my side.

“Were you told to do that?” he snarled.

I shifted onto my back again. The weight on my bound arms and feet did not bother me very much, but in this position I was exposed and displayed.

I could sense at least one of the men standing directly over me. I could hear the rasping, gulping sounds of Annie breathing rapidly through her gag. I felt flesh descend upon my chest. Our breasts sort of interlocked, settling into each other’s cleavage, but the men thought it would be more fun, or more visually pleasing, to pose us so we were exactly aligned over each other, teat-to-teat. Though not much bigger or heavier than me, because she couldn’t raise herself off my body to lessen the load, Annie’s dead weight squashed my boobs and squeezed some of the breath out of my lungs.

It didn’t take me long to realize that her gag was of the ring variety. When we had been properly lined up, her on me, the curve of my ball-gag that protruded from my mouth fit neatly into the ring parting her jaws, like a ball in a socket. I felt her teeth against my lips; and because she was over me and facing down, the irrepressible dribble that is a feature of the ring-gag trickled down my cheeks. And to complete the intimacy of our embrace, a hand pressed one of my thighs between Annie’s, and hers between mine. Her crotch-rope was missing, and her skin was hot and moist, lathered in perspiration. Her chest was heaving, her nipples hard, her cheeks burning, and between the puffing and wheezing she was quietly moaning, not yet come down from her interlude in the bedroom.

“You look worn out,” David said. “Relax and have a drink.”

“She’s insatiable,” Rick said.

“They can never get enough,” David went on.

“We’re nothing more than their toy boys.”

“Yeah, they think they can just use us, drain us dry and throw us away.”

Lying underneath Rick’s exhausted, panting partner, I managed a semi-coherent mumble of outrage through my gag. And when the joke began to wear thin, David suddenly announced: “Hey, it’s time for the game!”

“Oh great,” I thought. “What’s coming now?”

“Who’s playing?”

“Hawks and Tigers.”

“Twenty on the Hawks.”

“You’re on.”

The game lasted two hours, and during that time Annie and I stayed together on the floor, piled prostrate and pinioned in front of the television. At half-time, the guys were considerate enough to turn us over, so that I could take my turn on top. I was so glad, because my hands and feet, and particularly my wrists and ankles where the cuffs were pressed against the skin, had been starting to go numb. To ease the discomfort, I could arch my body upwards by pushing down on the carpet with my knees and shoulders, but that just relocated the stress and, of course, once more tightened my crotch-strap. The lower part of my rib-cage had taken most of Annie’s weight on my front, and I felt as if it was on the verge of collapse. On the other hand, I must acknowledge that every so often one of the boys had inspected underneath me, to see whether any bits were going purple, and also – I’m sure – to check if I had crossed my fingers as my safety signal.

However, the most excruciating ordeal was the tedium. I have always liked the long-haul tie, fighting off the boredom that comes with being immobilized for hours at a time, gradually slipping into a dreamlike state as your senses become disconnected from the world beyond your bonds and your blindfold. However, this afternoon was like that night when Rick tied me up for the first time. It was virtually impossible for me to zone out. I have always loathed football, and having to listen to the TV in the background, and to the guys’ inane dialogue on the finer points of the game (while being denied the compensation of seeing the players in their snug little shorts) prevented me from achieving that disconnection and started to drive me crazy. Whenever one side or the other scored (which, for the non-cognoscenti, is a lot in Australian Rules football), Rick or David would celebrate with a slap to Annie’s backside. Each time she responded with a muffled squeal and a shudder. Of course, during the second half I got the same treatment, and I quickly deduced a pattern – right buttock for one team, left for the other.

I am somewhat ashamed to admit it now, but once I was on top I decided to amuse myself, as well as needing to purge my pent-up passions. As the only person in the room on whom I could vent, it was poor Annie who became my target. She groaned and whimpered as I shifted my weight and twisted my body to stress her pressure and pleasure points. However, it soon turned into a different type of game, as she and I entertained each other with subtle movements of our interlocked thighs in each other’s strategic places. I don’t know if the men caught onto the reason for the gentle writhing and the soft grunts and groans which filtered through our gags.

The football match ended with David twenty dollars richer, Rick grumbling about blind and biased umpires, and Annie and me still trussed naked on the living room floor, one atop the other. It was about mid-afternoon. The clouds which had been building all day now brought steady rain and a precipitous drop in temperature, and as the goosebumps rose on my bare skin, I thought wistfully of that elegant fireplace. If the boys decided to play with us some more, at least that would warm me up. Instead, they went out onto the veranda with their beers. I heard them talking but couldn’t discern anything they were saying. It was most likely about us. Annie shifted her body under mine, probably to take some of the load off her arms which must have been starting to cramp up. I didn’t want to provoke our masters by slipping off her, so I tried to readjust my weight. Annie retaliated by jamming her thigh hard into my crotch. The leather strap grated painfully against my sensitive parts. We were beginning to tire of each other’s close company.

Having an attitude didn’t help either of us, because our ordeal was far from over. I suppose that I got the better of it – for what it was worth – because I remained on top until we were at last separated, as the sun was going down. We were ordered to stand. I struggled to my feet, dizzy and wobbly from the hours of bound inactivity, bending my knees and flexing my shoulders to work out the kinks, shaking my head to dispel the haze inside. The men took off all our cuffs, chains and straps. When one of them – I don’t know which since we were still blindfolded – removed my crotch-rope, slowly peeling the leather out of my crevices, he ran it across my face, along my shoulders, over my breasts. I don’t know what he was trying to prove. Finally, our gags were taken off. We were, once more, ordered not to speak.

“It’s getting near dinnertime,” David announced.

We were ordered to stand still, feet together but knees slightly apart, arms folded behind the back, head bowed, eyes downcast.

“This is how you will be if and when you’re not bound and not performing your duties,” Rick explained, as he took off our blindfolds.

David then reattached the chain to our collars, and with it he led us to the kitchen.