Ruth Restrained

by Krys Antarakis

  ‘Yes, she’s never taken a living cock up the ass.’

  ‘Then her induction should be quite something. At our party next Saturday, do you think?’

  ‘Most appropriate,’ Morgan agreed.

  ‘Have you chastised her yet?’

  ‘Not yet. We thought to start her off with a spanking.’

  ‘Good idea.’ Nick sank to his knees before Ruth, and eased her legs apart. ‘May I?’ He smiled, and before she could respond his cool erection sank into her warm pussy with breathtaking precision, filling her up as her back arched from the sudden joy. She flexed her vaginal muscles, gripping his rigid member and milking its firmness.

  ‘Your reward,’ he whispered in her ear as he began to thrust, a vigorous action that made her breathless with pleasure. This was direct physical sex – pure, raw carnality, and she gloried in it. Moaning and perspiring beneath him she felt him reaching his peak, and her inner muscles clung to his pulsing cock as he pumped her with his seed.

  ‘Time for dinner,’ Judy announced, retrieving her discarded caftan and heading towards the house.

  In the dining room five places had been set at the table. Ruth was placed between Nick and Morgan, facing the other women. She tried to sit demurely, but they did not permit it. At every opportunity the two men fondled her, making it impossible for her to concentrate on the meal. She sat with her thighs parted and her pussy inched forward on the seat, torn between two very different kinds of hunger.

  After the meal they repaired to the lounge, where Judy served coffee. Ruth drank hers sitting astride Morgan’s lap while he teased her nipples and her clitoris, a gentle, almost playful attention that had her feel like purring with contentment.

  ‘Ruth is thinking she’ll join our party next Saturday,’ Judy announced. ‘Will you stay with Elsa, or would you like to come to us, Ruth?’

  ‘She’ll stay with us,’ Elsa interjected. ‘You’ll enjoy that, won’t you, Ruth?’

  She mentally detached herself from Morgan’s attentions just long enough to say, ‘Yes, Elsa, I will enjoy that... thank you.’

  ‘Would you like a taste of what’s to come?’ Judy enquired.

  ‘Oh yes, please,’ Ruth sighed, trying to concentrate on what was being said, despite Morgan.

  Judy took her hand, eased her off his lap, and they all led her out to the coach house. It was growing dark so lighting was necessary as Nick and Morgan pulled out a piece of equipment resembling a high stool. The narrow top was padded, and attachments dangled from the splayed legs. Ruth was told to lie facedown across it with her feet on the floor so her ankles could be fastened to one pair of legs and her wrists to the other. The top was contoured to support her hips and shoulders, but cut away to let her breasts hang free. With her legs widely spread, her sex was fully exposed. She tugged experimentally on her bonds, and felt desire flooding her body yet again when she realised how helpless and vulnerable she was.

  ‘This is a whipping stool,’ Elsa explained. ‘But we’re not going to whip you just yet. Tonight is for milder pleasures.’

  The mention of whipping made Ruth’s skin crawl and her stomach knotted with a mixture of antipathy and craving. ‘Will, um, will I be whipped next weekend?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Perhaps. Think about it. Imagine how it might feel. Imagine a lash cutting across your pussy or curling around your pert breasts.’

  A hand she could not see began stroking her bottom, moving smoothly over the curves of her buttocks towards the valley between them. It was not Nick’s hands because he was on his knees beside her, reaching for one of her nipples with pursed lips. He took it firmly in his mouth, and sucked her deep and hard while on her other side Morgan did the same. Then the hand on her bottom became two hands reaching into her cleft and down into her vulva, teasing her anus and probing her pussy simultaneously. Ruth began to writhe and moan, expressing her delight in all this attention.

  The gentle, loving caresses and fervent sucking continued for some time, until Nick and Morgan stood up and passed beyond her field of vision.

  There was a pause in the stroking, then it began again, and it was stronger now, delivered by stronger hands. Nick appeared before her, his erection huge, his foreskin drawn back, his helmet glistening purple. She instinctively lifted her head and opened her mouth to accept his gift, and he eased himself in between her lips, pushing deep into her mouth until he was touching her throat. She nearly gagged on him, but he pushed harder, and with immense effort she regained control and began sucking him, feeling his girth grow against her tongue. Then from behind came another invasion as her pussy opened to Morgan’s dick, which pushed vigorously into her wet passage, and his balls touched her sex at the same instant that lips closed over her nipples again. Nick gripped her head, Morgan grasped her hips, and Judy and Elsa suckled her breasts while stroking her thighs and her clit, nearly drowning her in stimulation.

  The men shafted her with long, purposeful, powerful strokes; no quarter was given. The rubbing of her clitoris was relentless, and Ruth writhed against the bench as she rose swiftly to her peak. She sensed the tension in Nick’s erection first and used all the skill she possessed to delay his climax until Morgan’s thrusts gained the same familiar urgency, and then she abandoned herself to total pleasure, plunging into an orgasm that reverberated through her body as she drank deeply from both ends of their combined pleasure.

  She was not released. Even as her climax ebbed away she was presented with a bush of soft hair, and eagerly she pushed her face into Elsa’s pussy and began licking it, combing the labia with the tip of her tongue, dipping into the sweet wetness while unseen fingers built another climax in her throbbing clitoris. Again she pitched into a luscious maelstrom as the woman riding her tongue danced and twisted in her own triumph.

  Breathless and hot, Ruth cruised somewhere on the verge of paradise, but an uplifted skirt offered her yet more pleasures, and probing fingers stirred her honey pot yet again. She took it all, pushing her tongue into the rich wet sex before her, working assiduously to grant its owner release.

  Yet even after that she was not finished. Two erections were offered to her for attention and she took each one into her mouth readily, darting from one to the other, pulling at the still rigid shafts with her lips while fingers teased her to yet another blinding epiphany.

  Sunday was a leisurely day. Ruth was given many small opportunities to please her two hosts, and at midday she was dressed in her black leather outfit and driven to the market traders’ pub. No one could see that, once she was seated, she was shackled to the table leg, or that without panties she was open to intrusion. She ate her meal while trying to appear placid, a difficult task with fingers touching and teasing her beneath the table. She was discovering that there existed two levels of stimulation – the intense, relentless assault on her senses that brought her to mind-shattering orgasms, and this gentler, steady teasing that, combined with self-control, induced a continuous, steady, almost hypnotic pleasure.

  ‘This is a very pleasant accompaniment to a meal,’ Morgan commented over lunch. ‘When we were doing this at Judy’s last night, I was thinking how the chair restricts access. What we need is a chair that allows Ruth’s skirt, such as it is, to hang clear, and a seat that supports her but exposes her sex and her bottom-hole completely. If we added restraints, and something to part her legs, she could sit at the table and offer full access to anyone. I’ve thought out a basic design, and even if there isn’t a market we could have one for ourselves and for the group to use.’

  ‘It’s a fabulous idea,’ Elsa enthused. ‘And Ruth should be the first to test it. What do you think, Ruth?’

  She could not reply. A mouth full of salad and a fanny full of fingers was inhibiting her powers of speech. She managed to nod her approval, however.

  Back at the house she was dressed in the transparent shift again and the three of them sat out on the patio with
ample supplies of cool lager to discuss the weekend. Elsa and Morgan probed closely into her feelings, wanting to know what she had enjoyed most and what, if anything, had put her off.

  Ruth recounted her impressions. ‘Really, it’s been far more exciting than I could ever have imagined. In the past few years sex has taken second place to my career. I’ve been bonking fairly regularly, but all very ordinary stuff. Meeting Elsa again was like opening a shuttered window. I knew there was real sex out there, but I’d forgotten how varied and wonderful it could be. Thank you for having me, and thank you for making me do all these things and opening my eyes to them.’

  ‘You could make a regular arrangement with us,’ Morgan suggested.

  ‘I still have to consider my career,’ she replied guardedly.

  ‘We run our business and have a full and exciting life,’ Elsa pointed out. ‘So can you.’

  The conversation shifted to sorting the problem created by meeting up with Lewis, namely travel and clothing. The first matter was easily settled; Elsa would drive her to Broughton Chase. The second required some agreement. Ruth vehemently resisted the idea of wearing the leather outfit again. ‘I can’t take dinner in a four star hotel dressed like that!’ she protested.

  ‘You could if we made you,’ Morgan pointed out agreeably.

  ‘I’d refuse.’

  ‘In that case, we couldn’t invite you to the party. You’d not be sufficiently obedient, you see.’

  ‘You can borrow the yellow dress for the evening,’ Elsa conceded, ‘but you must go to work in the leather.’

  ‘I can’t wear transparent yellow with black panties!’

  ‘True, you need something that will blend and yet be obvious. Anyone wearing a see-through dress must demonstrate the fact. I shall lend you another pair of panties. I’ve got some in wild peach.’

  ‘Wild peach?’

  ‘They were a present; I didn’t choose the colour. Just trust me, it will show, and they’re real silk.’

  The solicitor acting for the Quincy estate seemed disturbed by the sight of Ruth’s long legs as she climbed out of Elsa’s utility. Lewis, on the other hand, exercised commendable self-restraint. As the solicitor ushered them fussily along the corridors, he whispered, ‘I think I’m dreaming. You look fantastic. If it’s to please me, then I’m duly flattered.’

  Further comments were forestalled by their arrival at the two Parry paintings. ‘They depict the valley as seen from contrasting viewpoints a hundred years ago,’ the solicitor explained. ‘Of course, they were an immense piece of conceit. See how the Quincy mill has been made to dominate the scene.’

  Lewis snorted. Ruth knew he detested being lectured about the obvious. He climbed the portable stepladder and gave his full attention to the pictures while the solicitor made small talk and ogled Ruth, an entirely different piece of work.

  At last Lewis delivered his verdict. ‘I agree with you, Ruth. These are certainly Parry’s.’ He rounded on the solicitor. ‘Parry was dismissed by his contemporaries. Criticism almost destroyed him and he only survived by taking these commercial commissions, but his genius breaks through. These are masterpieces in their own right, rediscovered thanks to Ruth’s expertise. What we need from you is evidence. Why are there no receipts for these?’

  The solicitor became defensively pompous. ‘I would suggest the artist’s charges were paid directly by the mill, therefore, there would be no corresponding entry in the domestic private accounts the family kept.’

  ‘Then search the mill accounts, if they exist. Find an invoice, or a ledger entry. Establish provenance and the price will rocket.’ Lewis scanned the room, and pointed to a glass cabinet. ‘Are these ceramics to be sold as well?’

  ‘A local dealer has offered a fair price,’ the solicitor confirmed. ‘They are of little value.’

  Lewis snorted. ‘Balderdash! There’s a small fortune in there. The vase alone is worth three thousand pounds. If you feel the matter to be of interest, I can arrange for a formal valuation.’

  The solicitor looked a little flustered. ‘I think we must reconsider our decision,’ he said.

  ‘Good. Arrange it with Ruth, and also set up a time for her to come and prepare the lots for display. I’ll wait in the car.’

  Ignoring the solicitor’s lustful stares from his window, Ruth settled into the passenger’s seat and pulled the door closed. Lewis reached over and slid his hand beneath the leather jerkin to cup her breast, sighing as he encountered naked flesh. ‘Ruth, you’re incredibly lovely. I must be the luckiest man alive.’

  ‘I can take it off for you, if you like,’ she offered cheekily.

  ‘Teasing can be dangerous to middle-aged men,’ he warned.

  ‘You’re not middle-aged, are you?’ she flattered.

  ‘I’m in my forties, but only my closest friends know that.’

  ‘Then you’re still a young man, and sex keeps you young, so shall I take it off?’

  ‘If I said yes I’d be unable to concentrate on the road.’

  ‘I’ll just have to be patient, then,’ she sighed.

  He gave her breast one last longing squeeze, started the engine, and the silver Mercedes was soon rolling effortlessly across the moors and swooping down the dale. As they shot past Thorpe’s garage, Jack looked up and Ruth, tingling all over suddenly, wondered if he had recognised her.

  Lewis, sensing her reaction, studied her curiously between concentrating on the road.

  ‘Just thinking nice thoughts,’ she explained.

  On the motorway she lay back and daydreamed while the miles sped by. By mid-afternoon they were rolling into the forecourt of a country house hotel nestled in the folds of the Dukeries.

  The liveried porter scanned Ruth’s costume disapprovingly, and Lewis said quietly, ‘I advise you to register under your own name, Ruth. You can have a separate room should you prefer.’

  She studied his face, amused by his quaint courtesy. ‘Thank you, but a double will be fine.’

  So he marched up to reception, announcing in a loud, challenging voice, ‘Mr Lewis Stone and Miss Ruth Parish. We have a reservation for a double suite.’

  The woman at the desk scanned Ruth from head to toe as if trying to decide whether she was trash living it up, or quality dressing down. Ruth smiled at the woman’s prudish indecision.

  ‘To save you further pointless speculation,’ Lewis interrupted the desk clerk’s private debate, ‘we are very much in love and we intend to make full and appropriate use of our bedroom, so please ensure we are given a large one.’

  The woman recovered from her discomfiture with astonishing aplomb. ‘I assure you, sir, that the hotel’s only concern is for your comfort and pleasure. We wish you a pleasant stay.’

  Another porter showed them up to their suite – two rooms and a bathroom overlooking the rolling parkland. He departed with a handsome tip, and a longing glance at Ruth.

  ‘Now I can take it off,’ she said, setting down the small overnight case she had borrowed from Elsa.

  ‘I shall wake up soon,’ Lewis mused as he watched her arrange the leather outfit on hangers. He came over and put his arms around her, caressing her naked belly. She could feel his hardness pressing against her bottom. ‘You’re gorgeous,’ he breathed in her ear, kissing her lightly on the neck.

  Ruth, luxuriating in his embrace, surrendered to his tenderness. He clasped her breasts, smothering her neck and shoulders in kisses, and she felt a warm glow spreading to all those special, sensitive places. Her desire for sex was strong, but the quality of her need was different with Lewis. This was neither simple lust nor the complex arousal stimulated by restraint. This was deep affection of a rich and sensual kind. She pushed the black thong over her hips and stepped out of it. Then turning and holding his head firmly in both her hands, she kissed him with more passion than she had ever felt before.

  �
��I want you, Lewis Stone,’ she whispered. ‘I want you to fuck me, over and over again. I want you to fuck me because... because I love you...’ She then took his hand and led him over to the bed.

  They made love continuously until early evening. Afterwards they lay beside each other staring contentedly up at the ceiling. The complex patterns in the plaster merged hazily, mixing and separating like the thoughts drifting through her mind. She wallowed in happiness, feeling totally relaxed. Her fingers reached down and absently fingered her pussy, still slick with Lewis’s seed, warm, comfortable feelings flowing through her.

  ‘Lewis,’ she finally broke their cosy silence, ‘would you enjoy making love to me if I was tied up?’

  ‘What a curious question,’ he replied lazily.

  ‘Seriously, would you?’ she persisted.

  ‘I don’t see you that way, Ruth,’ he decided. ‘I want to be with you, not control you.’

  She turned onto her side, and rested a hand on his stomach. ‘You’re a very kind and considerate lover, Lewis Stone,’ she told him, and her fingertips began tracing random patterns across his chest. ‘But there are many ways to satisfy a girl. Let’s suppose I get lots of feelings from being tied up – feelings I really enjoy. If that were the case, would you enjoy it too?’

  He stared up at her. ‘Is that how you really feel?’

  ‘Actually, yes, I like being restrained, sometimes.’ She heard his sharp intake of breath. ‘Now you’re shocked,’ she said, suddenly feeling very stupid and ashamed. ‘I’ll go and get dressed.’

  He grasped her wrist. ‘Stay, please. Ruth, I’m truly fond of you. I want you to feel really good; I want to please you—’

  She placed a finger to his lips and shushed him. ‘One more please, lover, then we must get dressed for dinner.’ She could feel his penis hardening against her thigh as she cuddled him closer.

  Ruth pulled on her borrowed panties, and the silk was soft as gossamer against her skin. The yellow dress elicited admiration from Lewis and she turned slowly around for him while at the same time critically assessing herself in the mirror. Elsa had been correct; the peach colouring was just the right shade to be discreetly visible through the sheer fabric.