by Diana Hunter
TABLE FOR FOUR
An Ellora’s Cave Publication, April 2004
Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
PO Box 787
Hudson, OH 44236-0787
ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-911-8
Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):
Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML
TABLE FOR FOUR © 2004 DIANA HUNTER
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Edited by Pamela Campbell.
Cover art by Syneca.
Table for Four
Diana Hunter
Chapter 1
The sounds of kids playing in the park across the street filtered in through the open balcony door and Lissa held still, listening. Playful screams tore the quiet of the afternoon as little girls slid down the slide in innocence and fun. A crack split the air and boy’s voices shouted as one of their number started his trek around the bases. Two houses away, the noise of a lawnmower started up. That would be Mr. Philbee doing his weekly walk with the mowing monster he used to trim his scrap of a yard.
Sunlight indirectly filled the room where Melissa lay bound. The balcony was a southern exposure, but the overhanging roof kept the rays from falling directly into the bedroom. The four-poster bed with its high, wrought iron columns, sat squarely against the western wall; soon the westering sun would fall upon her naked body, making her full bosom glow red in the long rays that filtered through the wisps of cloud.
Was there anything better than this? Lying bound in bed while life teemed around her? The scent of Mr. Philbee’s freshly mown grass wafted in on the breeze and her nipples rose to meet it, almost as if they, too, could enjoy the fragrance. Melissa breathed deeply, loving the scent, the noise, and the bondage.
Just for the fun of it, she squirmed on the bed, enjoying her helplessness. She lay on her back, her arms over her head; her wrists hugged by Velcro cuffs and fastened to the swirls of the iron headboard. Her legs were spread wide, each one fastened via a cuff to a post of the bed. Although a little heavier than in her younger years, her lithe body was still trim and fit. The moving sun now tipped her nipples with fire and she arched her back to let the warmth caress her breasts even as the breeze blew a cooling draft across them.
Melissa loved bondage. She loved how the bindings felt on her skin, how their tightness constricted her movements. The thrill of being helpless, open to whatever whim her husband might desire.
David was out there now, doing yard work somewhere below the balcony. She imagined him trimming the bushes, or pruning the roses, or perhaps he was weeding the vegetables. He wasn’t a tall man, so if he were trimming the bushes, he would be on the ladder, leaning precariously over the hedges to clip the branches in the back. At five foot ten, his height was perfect for pruning the rose climbers, his neat hands encased in heavy work gloves to protect them from the thorns. And if he were weeding the garden, his shirt would be wet from his perspiration, sticking to his lean frame as he knelt in the dirt. His short blond hair, damp around the temples from the afternoon sun, would hang in little waves of gold to frame his handsome patrician face.
Lissa knew that, no matter what task he had set himself, her blue-eyed husband wouldn’t be far, because his overactive imagination worried about all sorts of terrible things happening to her when he stepped away. That made being helpless just a little less fun than it could be. Only in the past few months had she convinced him that she would be just fine and he didn’t need to hover over her. But David had read all sorts of horror stories on the web about safe bondage and believed in them completely.
He even purchased a baby monitor and insisted on using it when he left her, carrying its mate with him in case she cried out. While the sane side of her admitted the practicality of such safety devices, her soul cried out for danger.
Because David was careful, he bound her in Velcro, not leather restraints with metal locks. The light cuffs fastened to the bed with old ties, not chains. David was cheap as well as safe. “It’s just a fun game, Lissa,” he told her over and over. “We can’t afford to do like those pictures on the web. I bought you the four-poster, didn’t I?”
Melissa and David had been married seven years, and Lissa knew she had pushed him as far as he would go. David was a traditional kind of guy and so, while they had done some pretty heavy petting before the wedding ceremony, the two of them were not intimate, as her mother referred to the sex act, until the wedding night. Lissa often brought up the subject of bondage both before and after the wedding; David always grinned at her and told her if that was what she wanted, he would be happy to give it to her.
But it was a game to him, and Lissa knew it after the first six months of their marriage. She was serious about it—vanilla sex just did not turn her on. Besides which, David did not have nearly the sexual appetite his earlier petting had led her to believe. From the first, sex was a Saturday night affair, and that was all.
In desperation, she had begged him to tie her up. The very act of begging had excited her so much that when he promised to do so the next Saturday, she came for the very first time in the midst of their plain old, ordinary sex.
David had been hesitant the next weekend—he didn’t really know how to tie knots—they didn’t have any equipment. He had many excuses. So Lissa raided the clothesline for the rope. But then, on top of it all, David giggled through most of the attempt. It had been an exercise in frustration.
Lissa then embarked on a study of bondage, because she had to admit, while the thought of being bound excited her and fueled her fantasies, she really didn’t know much about the topic. The Internet opened a completely new world to her and she spent several months bookmarking the best sites she found in order to share her ideas with David. Communication was the key, she convinced herself as she performed her wifely duties each Saturday night.
And so, armed with knowledge, she approached him again several months after that first try. Bemused, David skimmed through some of the sites as Lissa sat beside him on the floor. He thought it was because the other chair was too far away; she wanted to pretend she was his slave. But he was not ready for that step yet. Lissa understood David needed to be trained to be a Master, and she would just take it one step at a time.
Except you can’t change a chicken into a fox. David still insisted on his sex every Saturday night the way he’d always gotten it. Lissa finally suggested that he bind her in someway prior to the sex and that would be foreplay for her. Then he could untie her and they would have sex as normal. The suggestion saved her sanity. Over the years she taught him several different positions and slowly introduced a few toys into their play. But leather and chains were too much for David—and too expensive.
Lissa knew they could afford it, except there were always other priorities for the money. First the two of them bought the house, then of course, there were the repairs that needed to be made, then the decorating move from early garage sale to low-budget first-hand furniture. Each step moved them up in the world, made their lives prettier, giving the signs that all was well with them as they moved up the twin ladders of success and prosperity.
And, if the truth were told, Lissa would happily admit that David was a wonderful partner in every other way. She appreciated his thoughtfulness, his willingness to share the household tasks, even the fact that he took care of her. Only in the bedroom did Lissa find fault with her husband.
Of course, David had tied her very well today. Although the restraints were Vel
cro, Lissa still couldn’t get them undone. She had already tried. That was part of the fun. Early on, David would leave her an out, and Lissa always found it sooner than she wanted to. With the use of the baby monitor, she had convinced him she didn’t need the out—she could call if she needed him. So today, David had tied the bindings tight and walked away.
The sun was almost down and her breasts now dimmed in shadow. Lissa heard several mothers yell for their children, collect them and pass by the balcony on their way home. Her own stomach growled in reply and a moment later, she heard her husband in the shower; it was his ritual to shower after the day’s labor and before they had sex. Most of her liked his consideration; only a small part wanted his sweaty, smelly body pressed against her, as she lay, unable to stop him. Knowing he was near and that soon the weight of his body would be upon her, dampness grew between her legs. And when the breeze blew over her pussy, she gasped in pleasure and squirmed in her bindings. Any moment David would walk through the door of their bedroom, unbind her and take her—missionary style.
The thought almost caused her juices to dry up. She could fantasize all she wanted; the truth was, it would never be different. Angrily she pulled on the bindings that, a few moments earlier, had given her such pleasure. A small cry of frustration strangled in her throat as she bit back the tears.
The door to the bath opened and she heard him padding his way to the bedroom. But his steps took a detour and she knew he was checking the email in the study. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and when David finally entered the room, her smile was warm, inviting, and sexy. In spite of her sexual frustration, she still loved him very much.
David Patterson looked at his wife, spread wide on the bed, her smile inviting him to play with her pert breasts and hard pencil-eraser nipples. She waggled them at him, and he grinned as the roundness of her breasts, somewhat flattened by her position on her back, bounced from side to side. Her dark brown hair lay tousled on the pillow creating a halo with her shoulder-length tresses. And further down, her open pussy glistened in the last of the evening light, just waiting to be satisfied. The entire time he had been out puttering in the yard, he thought of her waiting for him—except he knew he was bound to disappoint her again, no pun intended.
Of course, the feeling was mutual. This bondage thing just didn’t do anything for him. He eyed her critically as she continued her “come-hither” look and knew the sight of a beautiful woman bound and helpless was a dream many men wanted all their lives—and didn’t get. But he just wanted a woman to love and to hold, and if they had sex that was fine and if they didn’t, well, that was fine, too.
He had tried to accommodate her, but as was true of all compromises, neither of them was completely happy. Still, he would go through the motions just to please her and for no other reason than because he loved her.
“And how is my vixen? Tired of her bondage?” David let his love for his wife shine in his eyes as he removed the towel from his waist. His cock was not yet erect, but Lissa knew well when it was, it would be long and slender—he could do so much with a cock like that if he would only try!
Melissa knew the drill. “Yes, David, would you release me now?” Her soul longed to call him Master or at the very least, Sir, but he would never allow it. And to be honest, he had never earned the right. He was her equal in all things.
“Of course, sweetheart.” Methodically, he untied her, starting with her left wrist, then ankle; moving around the bottom of the bed, he untied her right ankle then wrist. Lissa massaged her own arms while he loosened the muscles in her legs. This had been one of her longer sessions and he worried about her muscles cramping, but Lissa never complained.
Her pussy ached for his touch as his hands kneaded her thigh. Mentally, she willed him higher. Her hands, driven by her awakening need, slipped from her arms to her breasts, massaging them and rolling the nipples in her fingers. Lissa purred and arched her back, giving him, literally, an open invitation.
David complied. Over the years he had learned how to touch her to make her come. His own cock, soft when he emerged from his shower, now grew as he moved closer to what would happen after Lissa came.
His fingers slid along her slit and Lissa moaned. David didn’t have a lot of staying power, so he had settled on this pattern for sex over a year ago. First he would help her to her orgasm, then he would enter her and come in a few moments. Total time for the actual sex act? About ten minutes.
That was one of the reasons Lissa asked to be bound. In the past, when they tried to come together, she was always left in the cold. He would be done and then not have the energy to help her along. Most Saturday nights back then, she went to bed frustrated, determined to find some time the next day to take care of matters herself.
But the switch had been his idea; Lissa gave him a lot of credit for that. It had happened when she finally had the courage to tell him about her bondage fantasies. By tying her up and walking away, Lissa could let her imagination soar. By the time David returned, she was hot, wet, and ready to come in seconds.
It had been taking longer and longer, however. Today, she was only mildly stimulated and it took David quite a while to produce the desired effect. He wouldn’t use his mouth—that was one of his taboos. But his fingers played and poked and pinched and soon Lissa felt the familiar tension build between her legs to release a moment later, her pussy lips contracting around David’s fingers.
“All done?” he asked with a smile. She smiled weakly and nodded—let him think it was because it was earth-shattering rather than the mild, soft orgasm that it had been.
David now parted her legs and Lissa obediently spread them wide, bringing her knees to her chest to give him better access. Never once in their seven years of marriage, had she come on her back. All those women in the few porn videos they’d rented out of curiosity must’ve been faking it, she decided. There was absolutely nothing sexy about this position.
Her pussy was so warm and tight, even after all these years, and David loved having his slender cock inside it. For a moment, he teased himself, hovering just outside her opening, rubbing along the length with his hand and making the veins stand out. In the last video they watched together, the actress had given several magnificent blowjobs, but David could never ask Lissa to do such a thing to him—it was too demeaning and she was his wife.
Imagining that unknown actress kneeling before him, he plunged into Lissa’s pussy the way he wanted to take that woman’s mouth. He grunted as the pressure built, then exploded inside his wife’s pussy, with images of another woman’s face before him.
He pulled out and grabbed for a few tissues before rolling onto his side. Lissa had several in her hand already and she wiped his spilled seed from her pussy before it ran out and made a mess of the sheets. David appreciated her gesture—she was lying on his side of the bed and he really didn’t want to sleep in that mess later.
His stomach growled. “Come on, my sexy lazybones, let’s go out to dinner, since you didn’t make anything for my supper!” His teasing smile took any offense out of his rebuke.
Lissa grinned and stretched. Okay, so David wasn’t great in bed—he was wonderful in every other way.
* * * * *
A small diner just down the street and around the corner from their modest house tended to be one of their habitual eating spots. Their usual booth by the front picture window was available and Lissa and David slid in along the maroon vinyl seats facing each other across the matching maroon table.
They ordered and David told her what he’d accomplished while she was “busy” elsewhere. He was very careful not to refer to her private fetish in public—to do so would violate another taboo. Lissa, however, was grateful for his discretion, it had taken her a long time to tell the person she most loved in all the world; there was no way she wanted anyone else to know.
Indeed, part of the arousal of the afternoon was listening to the life teeming around her; life that had no idea what little secret lay beh
ind the open balcony door just above their heads.
The diner filled quickly and when the little bell over the door rang again, David looked up as something or someone caught his eye—and stared. Lissa frowned and nudged his foot under the table, but it seemed to have no effect. Turning her head slightly, she saw what held his fascination.
A man and a woman had entered and were making their way down the aisle toward them. With her straight, long blonde hair and svelte figure, the woman was a walking goddess. Her dark heels were at least six inches high—which just about matched the length of her navy blue skirt.
But while Lissa acknowledged the beauty of the woman, it was the man who followed that held her eye. Even though the woman’s heels made her tall, the male behind her still towered a full head above her, his broad chest and commanding bearing daring Lissa to look away. His neatly trimmed wavy black hair fell in small curls just long enough to give a girl something to run her fingers through. His round face sported a small goatee and neatly trimmed mustache. The very image of a Gypsy king come to life.
The diner was full and every eye watched the couple as they made their way along the narrow aisle. No seats were left and when the waitress apologized and told them they’d have to wait, the gentleman, without turning his gaze from Lissa, told the server in a smooth voice, “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure this nice couple will share their booth with us, will you not?”
There was a faint accent in his quiet, baritone voice, but Lissa could not place it. She tore her eyes away to signal “no!” to David, but he was already moving over and letting the woman slide in next to him. The blonde made an odd little movement, then settled next to Lissa’s husband and smiled across the table at her. Lissa smiled weakly in return, while glaring at her husband. What was he doing?
