Bondage a la Carte

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

They permitted her a few more minutes to recover from the dual violation of cunt and ass, then pulled her to her feet and tied a length of cord to one of the rings on the bottom of the waist cincher, centered just above the base of her spine. They threaded the twin cords through the protruding rings of both imbedded probes, then up and through an identical ring on the bottom front edge of the corset.

Ow, ow, ow. Come on, guys, that isn’t necessary. Damned things are going up into my throat.

Now she cried openly, the big, salty tears flowing down her bulging cheeks as Hood One tugged on the doubled cords, driving the inflated twin d***s even further into her crotch. He tied off the cords at the front ring and cut off the ends with a pair of wire cutters.

The cameras zoomed in and the audience could now see only the cords disappearing into her crack. The dongs were no longer visible. Another padlock went through the lower lip rings, further retaining the double probes, dangling there, just touching the top of each thigh as if to remind her that they were not yet finished. The lock was redundant. Without help, there was no way she could remove the impalements.

Now they turned her and wrapped more cord around her already cuffed wrists, forming a sort of rope-wrap cast, making many side-by-side wraps around her wrists and lower arms and then cinching it off. They did the same with her arms below and above the elbows, the multi-strand wraps pulling her arms close and creating a perfect Y from shoulders to hands. From hands to biceps, she wore a nearly complete layer of rope.

That feels pretty good. Sort of a rope cast. My hands are already going numb, but this even tension is nice.

They helped her sit on the floor again and then had her lie down on her back while they forced her legs together and placed a padlock on her ankle cuffs. With the fat black d***s inside her, she found that bringing her legs together was more difficult than she expected. The muscles seemed to force the double prongs deeper. She was sweating now, breathing heavily through her nose. Her pulse raced. The room seemed to grow dim and began to spin. Her body vibrated, her ears rung. Everything around her seemed to blur. Her fingers jumped and twitched, beating a soundless tattoo on each other as she neared The Edge, then tumbled over into the yawning pit of lava and hot, steamy, orgasmic shock. The two hoods and thousands on the Internet watched, transfixed as she lay panting, drool seeping out from around the gag and other fluids oozing from her deeply impaled crotch.

Slowly, her body and mind inched back towards normal. Slowly, sanity returned.

My God, I’ll have to try this on my own, she thought. I just knew this would be incredible, but not like this. I’m dying from pleasure.

They slipped small cord loops over her big toes, then bound the toes together. That woke her up, totally.

No need to tie my fuckin’ toes. Come on, now, why the toes. Yeow, too tight, too tight. She shook her head but they ignored her.

More cord went around and over her feet, under the arches, over the instep, around the heels and ankles, making a secure enclosure for both feet and preventing any possibility of mobility. While Hood Two wrapped more rope around her ankles and cinched it, Hood One, behind her, entertained him/herself by fondling her soft breasts, gently squeezing the perfect globes and messaging the blood-filled n*****s; watching them swell and harden.

Now they bound her legs below the knee and again above the knee and then again in mid thigh, using the same cinched, multiple-strand banding technique already in place on her arms and feet. She lay on her back, four thick wrappings of rope encircling her from ankle to mid thigh.

Legs going numb now. Can’t feel much in my toes. This IS what they promised. Everything is getting tied. Wonder how long I can stand this and if they’ll ever let me go.