The Dark Woods & Other Bondage Stories

by S. J. Lewis

  ***

  Lisa’s first fuzzy thought was that she’d just had one helluva wet dream. As she opened her eyes, though, she realized that it had been no dream at all. The bedcovers, and her pillow, were not on her bed, she was naked, and her hands were still bound behind her. In addition, her ankle was tethered to one of the bedposts by one of her stockings, tightly knotted. The gag was gone, and the light on her nightstand was still on. She twisted her arms around and saw that he’d used another of her stockings to bind her wrists. She felt suddenly exhausted, and flopped back down onto the mattress before craning her neck to see the digital clock behind the lamp. It was almost three-thirty in the morning. What time had it been when he’d attacked her and taken her? She didn’t know. It seemed unimportant to know. It had happened, and in the end she had not only submitted to him but tried to help him as he ravaged her. She shivered at the vivid memory.

  She was still bound, though, which could mean that he was still here. And if he was, and he’d left her naked, it could mean that he meant to use her again. Lisa shuddered, half dreading and half longing for it. He hadn’t hurt her, not really, aside from spanking her hard enough for it to sting, and he’d probably done that just to make her stop fighting him…hadn’t he? Her ass was still tingling a little where he’d swatted it. Actually, her whole body seemed to be tingling, especially her pussy. She shuddered again. If he still wanted her body, she knew she wouldn’t fight him at all. Her mind drifted. Would he make her suck his cock? Another shudder. It was possible. She would submit to that too, as long as it was only foreplay…as if she’d have a choice if he had something else in mind. Now certain that he was still here, Lisa wondered how long he would leave her here, waiting.

  It turned out to be just shy of ten minutes. He came strolling into her bedroom as if he lived there, munching on a peach. His ski mask was still rolled up just enough to show his mouth and jawline, which was covered with dark stubble. Still eating, he came and sat down on the bed near her. Lisa whimpered and wormed away from him, but the tether on her ankle kept her from getting very far. He ran a hand along her bare flank, from knee to shoulder. It felt just as rough and hard as she remembered, but his caress was surprisingly gentle.

  “I’m about ready for round two,” he smiled at her. He finished off the peach and tossed the pit away. Lisa heard it bounce against something hard. Then he pushed her onto her back. She didn’t fight, or scream. All she did was whimper as he ran his hands possessively all over her body, caressing, squeezing, fondling and her whimpers changed to moans as her nipples came erect.

  “Guess it’s been quite a while for you,” he said. “Lucky me, huh? Let’s get goin’.” He put her on her back and left her waiting for a moment while he went and rummaged in one of her dresser drawers. He came back holding another of her stockings. She didn’t have all that many of them, and he was using them up quickly. She had one leg still free. He quickly knotted the stocking around her ankle and then knotted the other end to a bedpost, her legs spread for him.

  Lisa realized that her breath was loud and ragged now, but she couldn’t stop it. She was already growing wet, anticipating his weight on top of her, his cock deep inside of her.

  “Scared?” he asked, smiling. Lisa just nodded. Well, she was scared, a little, but she was far more aroused than scared. He climbed back onto the bed with her and his mouth went to her breasts again, sucking and licking and teasing her nipples. Lisa writhed and moaned. She found that there was just enough slack for her to raise her knees a bit. When he noticed her doing that, he straightened up, leaving her nipples wet and puffy. She saw him smile as his hand crept down across her belly and between her legs. She yelped faintly as she felt him slide a finger up inside of her, then another finger. He began sliding them in and out of her, slowly, maddeningly, brushing lightly across her clitoris with every stroke. Lisa endured it as long as she could and then it was just too much. She arched her back, trying to press her pussy against his invading hand. She grunted with the effort, and then began moaning, her head rolling slowly from side to side.

  He seemed to find all that interesting. His hand moved more quickly, making her moan more loudly and press harder against his hand. His manipulations went on and on, sometimes faster, sometimes slower, but never quite enough. By now, Lisa’s straining body was covered in a fine sheen of her own sweat, and she could smell her own frustrated lust. She looked up at him.

  “Please,” she begged through quivering lips. “Please…”

  “Please what?” he responded, grinning wickedly. “Please stop?”

  “No,” Lisa shook her head. “Don’t stop!”

  “Then what?” he asked. “Tell me.”

  It was another act of dominance on his part, and she was too far gone, too close to the edge for her to think of anything but submitting, willingly and eagerly. She licked her lips, tasting salt.

  “Please,” her voice was a husky, tremulous whisper. “Make me come!”

  “Louder,” he said. Lisa shut her eyes tight.

  “Please!” she all but yelled. “Please, make me come! Make me come!”

  He clamped his free hand over her mouth. Lisa’s eyes flew open as she felt his other hand working away at her pussy and her clit. In spite of her plea, he took his time, working her up more and more until she was whining in frustration. She tried to beg him to go faster, harder, but all of her words were muffled by that big, hard hand over her mouth. And then he did something that made her eyes cross. She bucked furiously on the bed, squealing and moaning against his hand as he finally made her come. He kept on gently massaging her until her last tremors subsided, keeping her wet. When he took his hand from her mouth, she gasped and gulped for air, feeling as limp as an overcooked noodle.

  “You had yours,” he chuckled as he started unbuckling his belt. “Now I’ll take mine.”

  She wondered what he meant until he had his cock out, close to her mouth. Holding it in one hand, he slapped her face with it softly.

  “Do me,” he ordered. Lisa opened her mouth for him and he stuck his cock into it. It still felt huge, and she wasn’t in the best position to suck him effectively, but she did the best she could. It helped when he lifted her head up, but it also hurt because he lifted it by her hair. She still couldn’t do much more than take in the head of his cock, but he didn’t seem to mind. She felt him growing thicker and harder in her mouth and was just beginning to wonder how far he intended to go when he pulled back, leaving her staring at him warily, her mouth still open, just in case. He let her head drop.

  “Good girl,” he said as he moved over between her legs.

  “Oh, God…” Lisa moaned. And then she felt his weight on top of her, and his big, heavy cock sliding into her again and a small part of her wished that he’d bound her spread-eagled to her bed. She’d written about it in some of her books, she’d fantasized about it more often than she’d written about it, and she suddenly really, really wanted to know how it truly felt. And then she shrieked faintly as his cock filled her still-quivering pussy and he started fucking her hard.

  ***

  “Well,” Lisa’s agent put aside the sheaf of papers and smiled. She mimicked fanning herself. “This is good! This is very good! Your editor ought to be very happy. This,” she tapped the manuscript with one long, manicured finger, “Really has some nice, spicy meat on its bones.”

  “Thanks,” Lisa dimpled. “I’d kind of lost my edge before. I just wasn’t feeling all that inspired.”

  “Well, I’m glad you got it back! There’s some real chemistry between your two main characters. It’s a little racy in places, but I think we can get it past the editors. Good work, Lisa! I hope you can keep this new inspiration of yours up. I think you have a best-seller here.”

  “Really?” Lisa asked. “Well, I’ll do my best.”

  As she walked out of the building where her agent kept her office, Lisa opened her purse and slipped a hand into it just to touch that precious scrap of paper with the phone num
ber written on it. She thought back to that early morning, not so long ago, with the first faint rays of the morning sun coming in through the kitchen windows. Sleepy and happy and sated, she had served her attacker coffee while he sat at the table and she puttered around on the chilly tile floor in one of her sexy little teddies as she tried to find something to make for his breakfast.

  Ever since that night, she felt renewed. She was writing again, and exercising, and paying more attention to her appearance than she had been. She’d have to find a way to thank Marie for putting her in touch with that very special service. And soon, not tonight, but soon, she was going to treat herself and call that phone number again.

  One Night In Andallene

  The secret door swung inwards in perfect silence. He stepped through the opening quickly and the door swung shut just as quietly as it had opened. There was very little light in this part of the room. From the alcove where he stood he could see that the fireplace held nothing more than a few glowing embers. There were two lit candles on the mantelpiece, but the dark wood paneling of the walls seemed to swallow their feeble lights. The only real illumination in the room came from the watery, bluish moonlight streaming in through the great windows that took up one wall. By it, he could see that the baroness’ elderly maidservant was sleeping soundly in her small bed positioned athwart the room’s lone door. The door was clearly bolted shut from the inside. Just on the other side of it lounged the guards posted there by the late baron’s narrow-faced and eternally suspicious sister.

  A shadow moved in the moonlight. So, the baroness was not in her bed, even though the hour was late. Well, he had not expected her to be. He stepped around the corner quietly.

  She was standing near one of the great windows, gazing out at the moon so that her back was to him. He approached her slowly. The carpeting was thick, and his boots made no noise. He was no more than a few paces from her when something caused her to turn around. Her eyes went wide and round when she first saw him, and he heard her sudden, ragged intake of breath. He smiled at her, holding one finger to his lips, warning her to be silent.

  Her hand went to her neck. She took a half step backwards, but she did not scream. She took several slow breaths before she smiled in return. She came closer to him, but remained out of his reach.

  “So…” she said. “You did come, after all. How did you get past the guards?” Her voice was low and throaty, almost a purr.

  “I have my ways,” he replied, keeping his own voice low.

  She came a little closer, looking up at him with those lovely, liquid, dark brown eyes. Her hair was a tumbling cascade of loose curls as black as the night outside. It stood out starkly against her fair skin and the shimmering white material of the thin gown she wore.

  “My dear sister-in-laws’ men searched this room most thoroughly before they shut me in for the night. They discovered no secret passageway. My watchdog there,” she nodded towards the sleeping handmaid, “Has not moved at all, for hours. She has not even snored, and she almost always snores. Yet you are here. So, it is true, then? You are a sorcerer?”

  “Some people may believe that,” he replied. “I make no such claim.”

  The most effective way to lie was often to tell the truth in such a way that no one believed it. The baroness’ smile turned sly, as if they shared some secret now.

  “As you wish, general,” she purred. It seemed that she found it more exciting to imagine that perhaps he was a sorcerer. She slipped away from him, looking back over her shoulder as she headed towards the window. Halfway there, she paused and turned dramatically, her arms spread wide. The lower half of her gown swirled about her legs. The upper part clung to her body like a desperate lover. The material was so sheer that he could see the moonlight shining through it. It confirmed his suspicion that there was nothing under that gown but young and lovely baroness.

  “I found this hidden in my pillowcase,” she said, standing with her arms still spread wide, as if in invitation. “Do you like it?”

  He knew what was supposed to happen next. He was supposed to go to her, overcome with lust, and take her in his arms. It was what she was expecting. It was clearly what she wanted. Instead, he went over to the side table. Her face was in shadow now, so he could not see her expression, but there was disappointment and confusion in the way that she let her arms fall slowly.

  “It looks very appealing on you,” he replied. There was a decanter of wine on the table and two silver goblets. He poured for them both and held out one of the goblets to her. Now she must come to him. She did, accepting the goblet but not drinking from it until he held his own goblet up, bowed his head to her, and then drained off the contents in one gulp. She did the same with her wine, intent on matching him. She was not completely successful in her attempt to hide her reaction. It was a good wine, but he had chosen it more for its potency than for any of its other qualities. She shuddered faintly and put her goblet back down on the table. She looked up at him, waiting. He put his own goblet down and took her into his arms. His hands confirmed that all she wore was that thin gown.

  She stood on tiptoe to kiss him hungrily, her arms going around his neck. Her flesh felt warm through the sheer material. She was a lovely young woman, with all of a young woman’s natural appetites. It must have been very difficult for her to be married off to that withered scrap of parchment of a baron. He let his hands roam over her back. She pressed herself against him, her arms clinging even more tightly. She moaned weakly into his mouth.

  He broke the kiss. “Quiet,” he warned her. “Your watchdog will sleep until morning, but there are still the guards outside.”

  “Curse my sister-in-law!” she hissed, still holding him. “That old harridan wants only to inherit the barony! And she will, unless…”

  He silenced her with a finger to her lips. “I know,” he said quietly. “I am familiar with your circumstances.”

  “So you know all,” she murmured, gazing into his eyes. “I should not be surprised.” She sighed wearily. “And now?”

  “Now what?”

  “Now what do you think of me?” she whispered. “Am I a conniving bitch?”

  “Not at all.” He kissed her gently. “You are a woman in a difficult situation.”

  “Well, I feel like a conniving bitch,” she murmured. Her head drooped. “Now you must think that I tempted you here for my own selfish reasons.”

  He put a hand under her chin and lifted her face back up to him. “Let us be honest with each other,” he said. “I came here for my own selfish reasons as well.”

  “Did you?” she asked. Then she answered her own question. “Well, of course you did, after all the time I spent trying to seduce you from across the dinner table. My sister-in-law berated me for that, you know. She said it was most unladylike, with my late husband’s body still warm.”

  “Did you ever know it to be warm?” he smiled. She suppressed a laugh.

  “In truth,” she whispered, “I think he died some years before we were wed. And he only wed me so he could sire an heir to inherit his lands and so keep them from his sister.”

  “Was he successful?”

  He could feel her sag in his arms and he knew her answer before she spoke.

  “No,” she admitted with a shake of her head. “But I told my sister-in-law, and others, that he was. I was desperate! And now I think she suspects the truth. That is why she has her lackeys keep such a close eye on me. If she only waits, soon she will have the proof she wants, and then…”

  She looked up at him. Even in the moonlight he could see tears shimmering in those lovely dark eyes. “I need help, my lord,” she said. “I need an ally. It was hard enough to be wed to that old, dry stick, but to live under the sway of that vicious hag…” Her voice trailed away, and she shivered.

  He kissed her forehead. “You know who I am, and what I am,” he said.

  “Yes.” She let her head rest against his chest. “They call you the Emperor’s Hound. You are his best genera
l, one of his closest advisors, and, some say, a sorcerer as well.”

  “I am also his most trusted servant,” he added to her list. “You say that you need an ally. The Emperor needs allies as well. If I, as the Emperor’s vassal, can give you what you need, will you in turn give the Emperor what he needs?”

  “With all my heart,” she breathed. “I know how much trouble my late husband caused the empire. I also know how much more trouble his sister can cause. She is not entirely sane, my lord.”

  His spies and informants had told him as much already. With that hag in charge of the barony, the eastern marches would never be safe. He gently lifted her head again. There were still tears in her eyes, but now he saw hope in them as well. He bent to kiss her again, but not on her forehead. She responded eagerly. As the kiss went on, she began to moan again.

  “Hush,” he warned. She said nothing, merely nodded. Her breath was rapid and ragged. It seemed that she was more than merely willing to fulfill her part of the bargain.

  “We will seal our alliance now,” he told her. “Are you willing to make submission to the emperor through me?” She nodded eagerly, a ghost of a smile on her lips. He let go of her, and she let go of him and stepped back from him half a pace. She stood very still as he stooped to take up the hem of her gown, and lifted her arms up over her head as he lifted the gown off of her. As he tossed it aside, she stood naked before him. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the moonlight as he drank her in: Small, proud breasts, a narrow, supple waist, hips that flared full and graceful above her slender legs. She did not try to cover herself with her hands. Indeed, as he stood there gazing down at her she turned in place, slowly, so that he might see all of her. She was eager, yes, but also nervous.

  “You are beautiful,” he murmured. “A veritable nymph, milady.”

  “I am a woman,” she said as she put her arms around him. “I have been alone and lonely for too long, my lord.”