My turn (in the barrel so to speak). Some years later, after I got out of
the Marines (hey it wasn't much of a war, but it was the only war that we had,
when it was over, so was I). I had a couple of years of love/hate (no, let's be
honest lust) relationship with a strikingly beautiful young lady of New York
extraction. Yeah, yeah, I know, it was my own fault. Anyone who is NOT a New
Yorker, that falls into lust with a New Yorker deserves just what they get, and
I got it. I had, by this time, discovered that there was some erotic interest in
female clothing. You women don't know just how good you have it now. You can
wear men's clothing and no one will even raise an eyebrow (well unless your name
is Pat [ewwwwwwww]) or your own soft, silky,
sensuous clothing or any combination of the two. Pop quiz: Show of hands please,
how many people remember the Brut (Blech) add of about 5 years ago (that's '87
or '88) with the pretty young lady putting on her SO's shirt, tie, hat and Brut,
then getting a phone call from him and getting all flustered (gee I wonder if
she was going to exercise her wobbly bits. Anyway The Ol' Sarge makes a really
bad woman (not that kind of bad, I mean stone ugly, -you heard of people "done
bin whupped widda ugly stick"? Well my female persona had the whole tree fall on
her [shudder]). Still under the right circumstances (20 years and 80 pounds ago,
in dim light) she was acceptable as a partner for at least one young lady with a
then as yet unrecognized yen for a MOTSS. My SO at that time was fairly tall for
a woman (well OK, VERY tall) six feet of New York attitude (you don't like it?
Fuck you!). She had short blond hair worn in a Anne Murray style. I was 6'4
(still am) and rather skinny (in 1967 I weighed less than 160
pounds). So that when I was dressed up and had my heels on I was about a foot
taller than her, conveniently she had a couple of step stools that were exactly
a foot tall. We were deeply in lust with each other but not, I think, in love.
Everything and anything was fair game, vanilla, bondage, spankings, enemas,
breath control (usually with a silken scarf wrapped around the victims neck),
forced oral sex with the giver bound, with the recipient bound, anal sex bounded
and unbounded, on the plane and manifolds, et cetera, et cetera, and so forth.
One afternoon found me dressed in a black silky blouse, bra, breast forms, slip,
waist cinchers (several, this is before I discovered Versatile Fashions) with
garters, hose, a tight black satin Midi dress, high heels (6 inches, with
locking ankle straps), a long brunette wig and bondage. My wrists were tied
together with nylon rope, palms out, with a piece of twine tying my little
fingers together to keep my arms from twisting around. Around my neck was a wide
dog collar and from the D ring at the back a rope pulled up the rope around my
wrists holding them at about the middle of my back. It was a fairly comfortable
tie, and I could maintain it for several hours before my arms began to cramp up.
I was laying on my stomach with my ankles pulled up beside my rump, they were
connected to each other by a strap that passed across the front of my body. My
wig was clipped back so as to not interfere with the project in front of me,
cunnilingus, as much as I could provide. It seemed like hours or seconds (my how
time fly's when you're having fun) after we started, she finished yet another
orgasm (greedy, greedy), and slowly pulled away (I kept trying to reach her, but
couldn't make much headway). She rolled me over enough to reach the buckle on
the ankle strap, releasing it. Then she helped me push my legs down until they
were straight (I didn't say my legs liked it) accompanied by much groaning and
moaning on my part. She helped me to sit up and then took some tissues and
cleaned my face and chin up, then reapplied my makeup. She gave me a big kiss
and said "I've been thinking up some new fun, you're just going to love it".
Almost every time she said that I got nervous. This time I didn't, until it was
too late . She helped me to stand and then we walked (she walked, I
wiggled, there is no way on God's green earth that I can walk in 6" heels and
not have my butt wobble around like Marilyn Monroe's) over the the chain that
was attached to one of the banisters of the loft railing. The clip was one of
those quick release kind that you use on horses (stupid animals that they are,
right Rosie?) in case they panic at the sight of a leaf blowing across the
ground ("AIEEEE, a Hippo-munch-a-crunch-a-sauris, run away, run away") and are
pulling with all 1000+ pounds against the chain (or they've fallen down and
can't get up because they are tangled up in the chain, "and that piece of paper
just attacked me, MOMMIE" as they leap into your lap), it hung just at the level
of her neck (she'd worn it last). She clipped it to my collar and walked over to
the goody box. There she extracted a length of rope which, after directing me to
face the mirror (under the loft was a floor to ceiling mirror about 4 feet wide,
the previous tenant must have paid a small fortune for it), she tied once around
my ankles, finishing off with a bow, she tucked the ends of the bow under the
knot "For safekeeping". Then she vanished, up the ladder to the loft. After much
clattering and rummaging and then several minutes of silence, the end of a thin
rope (parachute cord I guess) dropped several feet away, I shuffled back a few
inches and looked up, She was looking down, "No peeking, you silly slut". Well
that gave me some idea as to what was going to happen, I was to be punished, for
sluttyness no less, sounds interesting. I shuffled forward again to remove the
temptation to peek. After a few more minutes she came back down the stairs. She
was dressed in the one remaining set of Greens that I had left, ribbons,
stripes, hash mark , spit shined shoes (somewhat scruffy now) and all. She'd
even tied the field scarf (tie) correctly. It was a bit baggy on her, and the
piss cutter sat very strangely on her head of hair (being sized for a Marine
Corps haircut), but all in all it looked very nice, not ready for an inspection,
you understand, but reasonably squared away. She pulled the stool in front of me
and stepped up on it. Her lips were right at the level of mine. She reached
around my head and removed the hair clip that held back the full wig, my hair
tumbled forwards. "Shake your head". I did, vigorously, the hair settled down
around my face, hiding most of it (a big improvement I thought). She leaned
forwards and kissed me, long and deep. Her tongue probing into my open mouth, I
leaned forward into the kiss. She pulled away, and slapped me, gently. "None of
that, you slut, I control what happens here". She reached over and pulled the
parachute cord, it fell, followed by a thick white braided nylon rope that ended
in a noose! The noose thumped the side of my head. I shook my head, "No, I don't
want to do that". She smiled and said, "We'll do it, but only if you put your
head in the noose yourself". The noose hung just below my chin, the top was
above my head, all I had to do was to lean forward and a little sideways and it
would slip over my head. She kissed me again, caressed my breasts (you can feel
through high quality breast forms, for those who have never tried it). Lifted my
skirt and played with me, kissed me some more, driving her tongue deep into my
mouth. Geeze I was horny. This went on for some time, with me getting hornier
and hornier. Every time I'd be ready to come she'd stop, step down and allow me
cool down. Finally she said, "If you put your head through, I'll let you come".
Without even thinking I leaned my head forward and put it through the noose.
Quick as a wink, she grabbed the knot and the rope and pushed the knot, pulled
the rope. GLIK! The rope was tight enough around my neck that it wouldn't come
off over my head. I shook my head, tossed it, no way. That noose was there to
stay. She stepped down again. The rope felt soft and silky, comfortable almost.
"Hey, wait a minute, you promised!". "Don't worry, you'll get yours". I didn't
like the sound of that. She disconnected the chain, and went back up the steps
to the loft. The chain was hauled up, and another piece of rope came down, the
noose slackened, hanging down from my neck. Quickly she was back down, and up on
the stool. She pulled on the end of the rope, there was a squeaky noise from
above and the heavy rope was slowly pulled up, the noose began to bite into my
neck and then stopped. She leaned into me and began to kiss me again, soon I was
lost in the pleasures of her mouth (she was one hell of a kisser). She leaned
against me harder and harder, I pressed back. Suddenly she jumped back, off of
the stool, I lost my balance and tried to step forwards. Remember the rope
around my ankles? I did, too late, I tripped and started to fall, the noose
caught me, tightening around my neck. I stumbled forwards, partially supported
by my neck, got my feet under me, stood up, squeak, squeak, the slack that had
appeared in the rope was taken out. Now the noose was snug around my neck. That
soft silky rope felt harder, not uncomfortable yet, but harder. Gently she
pushed me back under the edge of the loft, right where the noose came down. She
pushed the stool in front of me again, and stepped up again. She reached for the
knot, and slid it every so gently around from behind my neck, to the side, just
behind the ear. She took my hair and gently pulled it from under the noose,
relieving the some of the tension around my throat. Again she leaned on me
kissing, fondling, probing, as I leaned into her she slowly increased the
pressure, then quickly jerked back. Ah, but I was ready for her this time, I
jerked back violently, as I did she reached up with her left hand and pushed
firmly on my right shoulder. Gakkk! over I went again, this time I really lost
it, and ended up hanging by the noose for several seconds as my feet scrabbled
for footing, as I got my feet under me, squeak, squeak, squeak up went the rope.
The rope now felt quite hard, like metal around my neck, I didn't have any
problems with breathing, but my face felt sort of full and puffy. Again she
gently turned me around and pushed me under the edge of the loft, taking the
slack out of the rope as I shuffled along (you know, it really is hard to move
around in high heels and bondage). She stepped up on the stool, and adjusted the
noose again. This time she had to work at sliding the knot into place behind my
ear. She kissed me again several times. Then stepped down and turned the lights
on each side of the mirror on. Then she walked off to the right. In the mirror
was a very plain, tall, large breasted (well anything worth doing is worth
overdoing) woman, dressed in black. Her elbows sticking out to the sides, a
noose snugly around her neck, tipping her head to the side, her ankles tied with
a single strand of rope. A cloud of messy black hair surrounded her face, which
was rather red. She returned to me with a piece of thin rope which she tied to
my elbow, the other end was tied to the hinge of the hall door. She tied another
piece of rope the my other elbow and walked over to the stairs and tied it
there, this left me held in position by two lines, not very tight but not slack
either. She bent down and untied my ankles, then pulled the stool away from in
front of me. Experimentally I tried to take a step, a shuffle to the left a few
inches pulled on my right arm, a shuffle to the right brought the same results
on the left arm. She took a firm grip on the thin rope, as high as she could
reach, and said, "Bye, bye dearie", then pulled down as far as she could. "Ngggggggg",
That's hangee for NO!. I was up on my tip toes, trying to talk. Her hands go up,
up then pull, my toes leave the ground. The rope feels like a band of steel
around my neck, my head is tipped far to the side. But I can still breath! By
tightening my neck muscles I can gurgle out and snore in. I look in the mirror,
my feet are waving in circles, out, around, reaching down just above the floor.
Her hand reaches up, the other up, then pull. Now my feet are at least 3 inches
above the floor. Again her hand reaches up, the other up, then pull. Now it's 6
inches. The ropes to my elbows stop me from swinging or twisting, I face myself
in the mirror. My feet are still waving. She stops pulling, and looks in the
mirror at me, "Now, you silly slut, you're going to pay for choking me
yesterday". She dropped the rope. . "Glugggggg, rasp". I look in the mirror, feet swinging
around, limited by the tight skirt, face turning dark red, eyes starting to
bulge a little. Suddenly my feet give a flutter kick. . I try to stop my feet ,but they seem to have
a life of their own. Every kick draws the noose tighter, it slides slowly
around, now my head is tipped as much forward as sideways. . I feel the pressure in my groin, rising
towards orgasm. Dazzled, my mind races my feet
kick out and down
struggling for support . I come, trying to
scream, "Glggggggggg!".
Bewertung
(0 Bewertungen)Zum Bewerten bitte einloggen oder registrieren.
Du musst eingeloggt sein um Kommentare schreiben zu können. Klicke hier um dich jetzt zu registrieren.
Impressum