by Pat Powers
He pushed a button and the house tether shot out and wrapped itself around his forward wheel. Only then did he throttle the jets down to idle, shut the engine down and crawl out of the basket. After he'd set the wings to fold he turned the engine off. Nice ride.
"Hey, glad to see you, honey!" Cindy cried as he entered the front door. She walked forward and gave him a big hug, which he returned with interest. Cindy was an armful, all curves and sweetness packed on a short but solid kicker-girl frame. She was wearing her glasses -- probably reading a script -- and looked relaxed and happy, which was normal for her.
They kissed, the perfunctory kiss of a couple who've played a lot of tonsil hockey and expect to do so whenever they feel like it, and she steered him into the living room where a bottle of Jack Daniels, a cold glass of Glacier and a box of cheese straws sat on the coffee table in front of the couch. Beyond the table the monitor showed an old movie with the sound off. Cindy liked to have it on when she was in a room, but she rarely bothered to watch it. He figured it was a kind of friendly white noise to her.
Cindy gave him the Glacier and he enjoyed the sensation of feeling the cold stuff slide down a throat parched from flying through the desert air. Cindy took a sip of her Jack Daniels -- she didn't like being drunk that much but she did like a mild buzz at the end of the day -- and asked him, "So how'd your day go?"
"My day went great," he said, grinning at Cindy. "I spent most of it tying ol' Melissa Wheaton up for that movie I'm working on. The director being an idiot about such things, you see. Man, what a mess he made of it. So I just took over. And Melissa and I got to talking. And she said you said I was into this stuff. So I admitted I was. Which was fine with her. So we had a great little time."
"I'll bet you did," Cindy said, grinning. "Because Melissa just called a few minutes ago and said she wants to meet us at Club Gwen around nine o clock tonight. I told her it sounded like fun and we'd be there unless you was having a headache or a hissy fit."
"Naw, sounds like fun to me, too," he said. "Haven't been out to Club Gwen in quite awhile."
"She's bringing some of her actress friends along, too," said Cindy. "I think she's got somethin' on."
"She said she was thinking along those lines during the shoot today," he said. "Sounds like we're being recruited."
"Sounds like YOU'RE being recruited," Cindy said.
"Naw, it's both of us, or she would have made her move at work today," he responded. "She had plenty of time between takes to bring up whatever she has in mind. She didn't because she wants you in on it."
"Makes sense," said Cindy. "Wonder if there's anything to it?”
"If Melissa's recruiting, she can probably reach some deep pockets," he said.
They were both thinking hard about being recruited for a film. Most of the time, this wasn't a good thing if you were already established with the major studios as a reliable pro, as they were. Most films that recruited pros were indie productions which were trying to get financing by showing that a lot of experienced pros had signed on for their movie, hence demonstrating that they were a credible production.
He'd signed on for an indie film once, as a favor to a friend. Wound up working like a dog for three months and never getting paid because the shoestring budget didn't allow for extras like salaries for anyone. Plus what money there was ran out during post-production so the film never got made. Never again.
But there was a second category of films where recruiting went on. These were indies, but indies that had deep pockets and were looking to pick up top studio talent on the sly, without making too much buzz. Generally, the less buzz you created, the less you had to pay your talent. So recruiting your staff ahead of time, in secret was just good budgeting.
The fact that an actress as well-known and as sharp as Melissa was doing the recruiting was a very good sign that this was one of those deep-pocket operations. The deep pocket ops were often nice -- they paid well, they looked good on your resume, and the fact that you were recruited for them gave you a certain panache.
"We oughtta check it out," said Cindy. "Beside, I like Melissa."
"Yeah, I know," he said. "Ya'll apparently tell each other a lot on these nights on the town ya'll been enjoying while I was working."
"Oh, yeah, there's nothin' she don't know about you, darlin'" Cindy said, reverting to her Alabama drawl just as he was reverting to his Tennessee drawl. Like black people, they'd learned to speak white while in public. Otherwise people on the West Coast made all these assumptions about them, most of which weren't true. "She knows how big your dick is, how big your TONGUE is, what kind of knots you like to tie and where you like to tie 'em."
"I did notice a new look of respect in her eyes," Jack said solemnly, but with crinkles around his eyes that belied his tone.
"Well, she was impressed," Cindy said, this time seriously. "She said she'd tried bondage a couple of times, but never with anyone who was any good at it. I told it was just like lovemaking in general -- it makes all the difference in the world whether they're good at it."
"I appreciate your ability to lie convincingly," he said sincerely.
"Oh, it's easy when you believe it, darlin'," said Cindy, snuggling a little closer to him.
He knew that he was being invited to kiss her, and that he would be a cad if he didn't, so he leaned over, wrapped her in his arms and planted one on her. She responded enthusiastically, and in a few moments they were lying side by side on the sofa, making out like a pair of teens.
After a few moments of increasingly intense fondling and kissing, she let go of his dick and said, "OK, that's enough darlin'," she said. "Gotta save a little for our flight to the club, which we oughtta be startin' right about now."
“Right about now? The meeting won't happen for another three and a half hours, girl, and the flight will only take half an hour,” Jack growled. “It's playtime.”
“Yes, Master,” Cindy said, her voice going all melty and soft in response to Jack's growl.
Jack rose from the sofa, and had a last swig of bottled water. “Heel, girl,” he told Cindy.
“Yes Master,” she said, rising.
Jack walked into the bedroom with Cindy following close on his heel. She was already entering subspace, though she might not have phrased it that way. She thought of it as “warming up.” Still hot from their makeout session on the sofa, and anticipating the fun in the playroom, she was finding herself becoming soft and malleable in an emotional sort of way. Something about the way Jack sounded when he growled really got to her. His voice seemed to go straight to her clit and do terrible, wonderful things to it.
Jack strode into the bedroom and turned on the air and lights to the playroom with a flip of the switch. Then he reached into a dresser and got out Cindy's collar and leash and cuffs. “Strip, mine,” Jack ordered when they got to the bedroom. “Make it fast.”
“Yes, Master,” Cindy said, her voice a husky whisper, and she quickly removed every bit of clothing she wore. Sometimes he had her strip slowly, to arouse and entice him, but sometimes, when he was already aroused, he wanted her naked and available fast. And she wanted to be naked and available fast, at the moment.
“Bracelets,” Jack ordered once Cindy was naked.
Cindy immediately stood with her hands held behind her back, her chin raised in the air. Jack took this opportunity to put her thick leather collar with the four rings set in it, attaching her leash to it. Then he attached cuffs to her wrists and ankles. He felt a swell of pleasure and pride as he put on her restraints, that such a beautiful and with-it woman was his to enjoy, simply because she loved him. Jack knew that he might face reverses in the world, that everything he tried to do might not work out the way he wanted, perhaps disastrously so. But so long as he had Cindy, the world could go hang as far as he was concerned. It gave him a certain objectivity about things like work and social success.
Jack finished outfitting Cindy with a waist belt fitted with rings. He was not sure EXACTLY what he wan
ted to do with Cindy in the playroom, but he liked having her equipped so that he could bind her in any way he liked.
“Well, it's playtime,” Jack said as he flipped the hidden switch that opened the trapdoor that led to the playroom. A section of flooring in front of the bed hummed, cracked slightly open, then smoothly opened, revealing a set of stairs lit by LED lights strung at their base. Grabbing Cindy's leash, he descended the stairs.
When Jack had been setting up their trailer home, he had given the contractors the idea that he was a survivalist, and had had them excavate a large “safety room” beneath the trailer at the same time as they excavated the space for his septic tank. The refuge was larger, as large as the trailer that sat above it. Of course, Jack had never intended the room for a refuge, though it could be used for that easily enough. But contractors understood refuge rooms a lot better than they understood basement sex dungeons, though in truth there was very little difference between them in terms of construction.
Jack walked slowly and carefully down the stairs since Cindy had her arms cuffed behind her back. It would have been more logical and practical to cuff her hands AFTER they got into the dungeon, but logic and practicality were not what basement sex dungeons were all about. Entering the sex dungeon already naked and cuffed tended to get Cindy all warm and woozy. That was what basement sex dungeons were all about.
The dungeon was a not all that dungeon-ish. It was in fact a luxurious looking place, with thick, dark blue drapes with a gold and black pattern on them lining the walls, a thick dark beige carpet on the floor with a foam underpad so think that it was a little springy to walk on – but it was great for kneeling. There were also a few faux furs scattered on the floor.
The room's furniture consisted entirely of bondage devices. Well, there WAS a large bed with a frame for canopies, but when you looked at all the loops and curlicues at the headboard and footboard, and the rings that were screwed into the frame of the bed along the sides and also up along the canopy frame, you quickly realized the bed was a bondage device, too.
Instead of fluorescent lights, the room was lit by shaded lamps that gave a warm, soft glow to the room's contents, most especially, the skin of the people in the room. Most most especially, as far as Jack was concerned, Misty, who always looked wonderful in the playroom, her red hair glowing, her pale, lightly tanned skin so warm and smooth in the light.
“Kneel, mine,” Jack ordered as he walked over to the bed and shed his own clothes quickly. Sometimes he stayed dressed when they played, just for a little bit of extra domination. But not today.
Cindy knelt and watched Jack undress, her knees splayed wide apart. She could not avoid licking her lips a bit when he pulled his pants down and his thick cock popped out of his trousers, already turgid. They only came down to the playroom for one reason, and for that reason, just entering the playroom was arousing for both of them. She loved the way the lamplight played on his muscles. Jack was an avid mountain biker, he did it three or four times a week, and as a result his body was all hard slabby muscles, especially his calves, arms and neck. He didn't have the thick, bunched muscles of a weight lifter, but he was one of the last people anyone would ever pick a fight with, based on his appearance. He towered above Cindy when he rose to his feet, his cock swaying in easy balance with his body as he strode to her.
Jack stood directly in front of her, his cock at about her forehead level, while Cindy looked at it with the fascination of a hypnotized bird staring at a weaving snake, though her expression was one of eagerness rather than fear.
“Serve me with your lips, mine,” Jack ordered, and Cindy rose slightly and engulfed his cock with her mouth. She stared up at Jack as she did so, loving caressing his cock with her tongue, her eyes full of pleasure and merriment. Playing with Jack was the most fun she had ever had in her life.
Jack gazed down at Cindy, watching his cock slide in and out of her mouth, the beautiful bow her lips made as they covered it. He had sometimes joked that nothing made a woman's face more beautiful than having one's cock in it, and though it WAS a joke, it had a certain amount of truth in it. All that pleasure she was creating for his cock with her mouth and tongue, her huge golden-brown eyes gazing up at him so full of affection, it was enough to make a man explode with pleasure, but all he did was say “nnnngh,” as he looked down at her, taking so much pleasure in the thought that here, at his feet, naked and bound, was such a wonderful woman who desired only to bring him pleasure. She was way more than he deserved.
Who is your Master, mine?” Jack growled as she knelt before him, worshiping his cock with her mouth.
“Ooh aaah,” Cindy responded, the closest she could manage to “You are,” with her mouth full of his cock. It thrilled her to say the words that way. She shuddered with pure pleasure, working his cock with her tongue, gazing up at the smooth, hard body that towered above her, feeling every bit the sexy slave girl as she gazed up at him.
Jack felt his blazing stallion of love, or cock as he preferred to call it, stiffen to full hardness as Cindy worked it enthusiastically with her tongue, her eyes so wide and full of love as she looked up at him.
“That will be enough of that, mine,” Jack said, pulling his cock from Cindy's throat. She followed it hungrily, leaning forward, but kneeling forward with her hands bound behind her back, she could only lean so far without toppling over, so she rocked back on her heels and said, “Yes, Master,” Cindy said, her eyes sultry and her voice husky with desire.
“Heel, mine,” Jack said, and walked over to a padded bench sitting in the center of the room. Cindy rose to her feet and followed him to the bench.
“Get on the bench, slave,” Jack said.
“Yes, Master,” Cindy said. “Face down or face up, Master?””
“Face down,” Jack said. “I have business with your butt.”
Cindy stifled a giggle and said “Yes Master,” and laid on the bench face down. The bench was quite short, and both her head and her butt hung over it. As she laid there, Jack took each of her ankles and attached them to one of the many rings set on and around the bench's base, so that they were drawn forward.
Cindy felt gloriously exposed as Jack attached her leash to the base of the bench. With her ass overhanging the bench and her legs pulled forward by her bonds, it was as if she were doing a split. She wiggled her ass enticingly, and also because she really felt like wiggling it, knowing that Jack was about to do wonderful, terrible things to it.
“Open wide, mine,” Jack's voice came and Cindy did, and she felt a ball gag being inserted in her mouth, which Jack fastened behind her neck with his usual care to make sure he did not pull her hair. Cindy had not liked being gagged at first, but she had come to appreciate being gagged more and more when she played with Jack.
“Scream all you like, mine,” Jack said, a bit of a chuckle in his voice. It was a joke between them, a reference to the classic movie line when the villain says to a damsel in distress, “Scream all you like, no one can hear you now!” – generally in some situation where it would make a great deal of sense to gag her. They were in a basement on a mountainside with their nearest neighbor half a mile away. No one would hear her if she screamed at the top of her lungs, which she often did while in the throes of passion. Jack's real reason for gagging her was that HE didn't like hearing her screams … though he LOVED to hear her screams muffled by a gag, and all the other noises she made …
“Eff, affah,” she said through the gag.
“I'll take silence for consent, mine,” Jack siad. “Also, screams of “No! No! Please No!!!!”
Cindy made some noises that might have been chortles through her gag. She loved Jack's sense of humor though sometimes his joking made it hard to get fully engaged in subspace.
Jack moved around behind Cindy once he had her gag secured, and began alternately swatting her butt and massaging her pussy. He didn't hit Cindy hard enough to really sting, his real interest was in drawing blood to her butt area. He was literally warmi
ng her butt up for his use.
It was a beautiful butt, round and smooth and pale, and it reddened nicely under Jack's slap. Cindy squealed through her gag as Jack slapped her, happy little squeals. She also squealed and moaned through her gag as Jack played with her pussy, his fingers expertly probing and caressing her labia and her clit. For such a huge man, he had such a light touch. Probably all that crafting and model building he had done as a kid, Cindy suspected.
As Cindy squealed and squirmed in her binds, long strings of drool oozed out of her mouth and descended to the rug. She drooled whenever she was ball gagged, and the ball gag held her mouth open, so the drool oozed out. She had thought it icky at first until she realized that her other set of lips was oozing stuff, too. She was just a squirming animal tied down to a bench, oozing with lust uncontrollably at both ends. It excited her to think of herself that way, to BE that way, with Jack, who understood her.
Jack, looking down at the squirming beauty with the blaze of red hair dangling from one end of the bench and the reddened butt dangling off the other end and felt his cock stiffening. Displayed like this, Cindy was simultaneously a vision of erotic beauty and a raw invitation to sex. It was all he could do to not thrust his cock into her inviting, squirming pussy.
When he found the impulse to fuck her almost overwhelming, Jack stopped and unfastened Cindy from the rack.
Cindy felt Jack removing her bonds and tried to quiet the raging fires within her. She had been brought to the point of orgasm but had not orgasmed. Cindy's butt now felt like Disneyland, fireworks going off in every direction and a merry holiday throng of lust surging and roiling within it.
“Nadu, mine,” Jack growled when he finished
“Eff, maffah,” Cindy responded as she crawled off the bench and knelt before Jack, head bowed, legs spread wide, her palms on her thighs, turned up to express her submission to him.
