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txt compul


F/F Bondage /Masturbation


We left the restaurant around ten and went back to my apartment..
I would have liked to undress her myself, but I didn't want to rush
things and allowed her to change in one of the dressing rooms by the
pool where she hung her suit and carefully folded her underwear.
She had no problem relaxing with me in the tub where we sat with our
shoulders companionably touching and our brandy balloons held just
above the gently steaming water. I felt my own well-exercised body
compared favourably enough with her soft, almost flabby tawny
quality. We were both women, both naked and a little more than
half drunk - just what I would call an ideal situation..

We chatted a little about the office, although I don't discuss
personalities with my staff. Sexual pleasure is never allowed to
influence my business decisions, but, all other things being equal,
the memory of lips fluttering under mine, or a successful skirmish in
my bed, might be to the advantage of an ambitious girl. And this one
was ambitious. She had had to wait for my invitation, of course,
but when it came she was ready for it. In fact, I had an
uncomfortable sensation of being charmed into making the approach
before the three months probationary period I normally insisted on
had been served.

Sitting beside her, I placed my right foot across her left ankle,
moved my leg slightly upward. She didn't appear to object... I
remembered that when we were in the restaurant she had held her hand
on my arm a little longer than was necessary as she told me some
trivial stories about her country upbringing, leaning close so that
her breath was gently vibrating my hair. That had excited me more
than I would have expected. I picked up a silver goblet, based on
a Roman original, that had been given to me for my forty-fifth
birthday. I filled the goblet with scented water and gently
poured it over her beautiful shoulders.
" The day to day running of the business could soon need some new
blood," I said, embarrassed at a totally inappropriate thickening of
my voice, as desire suddenly flooded me like moonlight. I recovered
myself and continued "You may now be looking at the next Mayor of
this town." .
Pam looked at me and smiled. I could see her mind working
"Timing is everything," I said. "I didn't regard the last approach
as opportune, as there was a popular incumbent. But now he's
retiring and I'll have a free run. And I think they're ready for a
Three key business people, two men and a woman had wanted to bankroll
me to run for Mayor two years ago. Now they knew I couldn't refuse.
Pam nodded at me, smiling, as she wound a towel round her hair, her
pale, plump breasts gleaming wet as they lifted clear of the bubbled,
oil-scented water. Why did I have to brag to impress this big
country girl? Even that makes me cringe now when I think of it.
"I think I'm getting sleepy, Ms Gregg," she said in that slack- tuned
rural accent which was the least attractive thing about her, yet
charmingly voluptuous in our present mood and setting.
"Do you need something to wear?" I asked.
"That's okay Ms Gregg," she said.
"Just call me Susan to-night," I said.
She smiled at me, big mouth, big teeth, dazzling me with her youth
and brilliance. I climbed nimbly enough from the tub to fetch towels
and robes. While she dried off I locked the door to the balcony.
It was an old habit, since a rather disturbed girl had tried to go off
it a few years back. It was the only such incident in nearly thirtyy
years, not a bad record, but it had scared me badly at the time.

We drifted towards the bedroom, laughing, carrying our brandy
balloons, my arm around her waist. I had never wished to share my
life with anyone and only brought a girl home for the night every few
months. I always got full value, however, as I securely locked away
the memories of my assignations and made them serve me without respite
as I masturbated furiously during my periods of "abstinence." Pam had
a towel, turban fashion around her head and the white robe loosely
belted around her waist. She looked radiant from the pool and I knew
I had chosen well. I had never been so sure. This was often the
difficult part, even with employees - when they found they were not
being allotted a separate bedroom. Most of them, however, were
only too well aware of what was happening. Pam was plainly
impressed by the room with its Charles Reid watercolours (a still-life
and a plump, pink and cerulean, blonde nude), the magnificent walnut
cheval glass and wardrobes, the canopied bed with the satin-polished
butternut pillars, each as wide and curved as a woman's waist, the red shaded lights that cast a flattering, rosy glow.

Pam seemed unsure for a moment, and put down her glass on a bedside
table. I quickly put down my own glass and embraced her. I was so
sure of her now. Seldom had I had real trouble, once or twice girls who had sobbed almost all night. With one, I remember pressing my
thumbs on her greasy eyelids, kissing the agitated lips, and how her
resistance had so increased my pleasure and captivated my dreams.

I pushed my hand inside Pam's robe, ran it tenderly around her
prominent buttocks. Pam was gripping my shoulders, a flushed, angry
look on her face. So unattractive, I thought, feeling a strange
weakness in my belly, then she caught my wrists and threw me on the
bed, landing heavily between my legs and on top of me so that my
breath was crushed out of me.
"Get off me," I shouted, fighting her angrily and astonished at this
assault. None of my girls had ever behaved like this before.
"I'll get you, you bitch," she shouted in my ear.
She had my wrists again and, in a quick move, she straddled me,
grunting as she came down on my belly, then pinning my upper arms
with her powerful knees. Because the bed was so soft, I was able to
generate some movement and she was not as firmly seated as she thought.
She swayed as I fought back, trying to thrust to the side, pushing
against her wrists. At this point I was still furiously angry. I
had no doubt I could threaten or fight her off and was planning
already how I would punish her when I got her beneath me in my bed.
But, with her superior weight, she did not have to exert very much
effort to hold me down. With my arms trapped under her knees, she
was able to use her hands to steady herself against the head of the
bed and I was no longer sure it would be easy to throw her off.
We struggled for nearly five minutes and I cursed her in the foulest
language but did not realise until I was completely exhausted that
she had simply been letting me tire myself to no avail. Before much
longer I was hopelessly defeated and she was still sitting firmly
astride me. I rested, gasping for breath, glaring up into her placid,
square-jawed face.
"Give in?" she demanded
I shook my head.
She sighed, then leaned down and, wetting the palm of her right hand
with her tongue, she placed it over my mouth, sealing it tight shut.
Then she pinched my nostrils between the finger and thumb of her left
hand. My lips, on my despairing attempt to draw in air, became
vacuum-sealed. I couldn't move my head or breathe and in less than a
minute I started to black out. I tried to surrender, to beseech her
with my eyes, but she just grinned and held on. I was sure I was
going to die, that she really meant to kill me there and then and I
felt as if my soul had left my body and floated to hover and stare
from the ceiling. I blacked out and when I came to again I had a
dull headache and she was still on top of me but I was lying on my
face and she was seated astride my back. My wrists were bound behind
me with the sash of one of the gowns. I was naked and she was still
wearing her robe. She ordered me lie on my back again, lifting off
me just enough to let me turn, then straddling my belly, disregarding
the discomfort of my bound wrists underneath.
"Give in?" she asked again in just the same calm tone.
I had to make two attempts before my voice came out huskily.
There was a voluptuous flush in my belly and womb, a vibrant
tingling in my breasts, a feeling of almost passing out of my body,
as if I crossed some invisible frontier between resistance and
complete and utter capitulation. And, staring down at me, she
knew it. No one, much less a woman had ever beaten me, yet I wanted
Pam to grind me beneath her into the bed, to ride me with derisive
contempt while I pleaded unavailingly for mercy. If she understood
the game we were playing now, as I thought she did, I knew that she
would deny my pleading, thus gratifying her triumph and deliciously
pandering to my perverse delight at being utterly helpless underneath
her. This was a whole new game to me. I could hardly speak, my
throat was so congested with desire, but I poured out my agony of
longing and surrender, said things that still make me cringe when I
recall them, yet delighted in her cool and mocking response.
"You know, this is turning me on a bit," she said. "
She wriggled her butt slightly.
"Don't fight it," I said. "Let me show you."
" Victory turns me on," she said. "I like to win. Believe me, I'm not
into making love with old women."
The cruelty of this remark was unexpected and shook me for a moment.
I believed there were few women I couldn't seduce. If only she
would untie me? No, I was enjoying this too much. I could seduce
her, even bound as I was beneath her like this.
" Then why did you come back with me to-night,?" I asked.

"I had to be sure," she said. " I'd been asking questions - around
the office. There was a funny atmosphere at work, but nobody would
really talk. Are they all that much afraid of you?"
For a moment I almost smiled, forgetting my present situation.
"Please," I begged.
"No," she said, unrelenting.
"Get off me, then," I said huskily, but I wanted her to refuse me,
to taunt me in my humiliation, felt the perverse desire almost
floating me.
"You've been doing this for years, haven't you? Making love to
girls from the office?" she demanded.
"Among others," I said. My throat was still swollen with desire.
"What of it? I haven't had all that many complaints."
"Well, you've got one now," she said. "And you're going to remember

Then she got off me and stood beside the bed. I missed my warm
prison between her legs, her weight on me. The desire I felt was
"Please," I begged, "just lie on me. Put your thigh between my
"Sorry," she said.
"Your hand, anything."
" Fuck off you shameless old bitch," she said, looking at me with a
mixture of amusement and contempt.
"I want you to fuck me. Please, please, fuck me," I screamed
hoarsely. I started to cry.
I struggled violently, but the belt of the robe, though soft, was too
tightly knotted.
"I'm sorry," she said. "But I can't untie you either. I don't
trust you."
"Then get out, damn you," I screamed. "Get out of my room."
"Is there another bedroom?" she asked.
"None of the beds is made up. You were supposed to sleep here with
"Sorry," she said again. "Would you like some tea or anything."
"Get out" I screamed.
"I'll go down to the lounge and sleep in a chair, okay?" she asked.
"No, it's not all okay. I beg you, I implore you to get in bed with
"I can't untie you, Ms Gregg," she said. "You know that."
"I don't care," I shouted hoarsely. "Just get in the bed and hold
I had lost all shame. She looked at me in disgust and went out of
the room, leaving the door ajar with just the light from the landing
and a heavily shaded bedside lamp dimly illuminating the room, as
though for a child frightened of the dark. I screamed in
humiliation and frustration.

I lay on my face, burning alive with desire. My headache had almost
cleared . I opened my legs, trying to get my fingers between them.
After a few minutes I fell back exhausted. I struggled to my
knees and crawled to the end of the bed where I locked the satin-
polished wood of one of the bedposts between my thighs and started
compulsively masturbating. I was suddenly aware I wasn't alone
in the room. Then the flash of a Polaroid camera exploded in my
face, blinding me. Pam didn't pay any heed to my cries of despair
as she pulled me up towards the pillows. She dragged open my
underwear drawer and threw half the contents on the bed. I struggled
to escape, but she sat on me again, this time facing my feet, and
bound my ankles with pantyhose to one of the bedposts. She forced me
to take a sleeping pill and some water. Then she stuffed a pair of
my own panties in my mouth, making a gag with the help of a black
nylon stocking, which she knotted at the back of my head. She
threw the coverlet over me and left the room, closing and locking the
door this time. I didn't want to sleep. I started trying to
hump the mattress, but somewhere I lost consciousness. In my
dreams Pam was leading me on a rope naked through a hostile and
jeering crowd.

Pam was fully dressed in her cherry-colored business suit and black
heels when she slapped me briskly awake at four in the morning and
showed me the Polaroid photograph. At first I didn't recognise
myself in the old hag, with the distorted face smudged with mascara,
those incredibly skinny, veiny legs attempting to grapple and ride
the bedpost, the red demonic pinpoints in an old woman's eyes which
expressed both terror and an obscene lust.
"I forgot the redeye reduction button," Pam said sardonically as she
un-knotted the stocking at the back of my head and pulled the sodden
panties from my mouth. She allowed me a glass of water. I was
terrified now.
"Please, I beg you," I said. "Is there nothing I can say, nothing I
can do."
"This is for Cathy," she said."She worked for you once."
for the life of me I couldn't remember a Cathy. The little one
with the wet eyelashes? No, that wasn't her name. Or the one
who'd tried to go off the balcony? There were too many of them.
I really only remembered the very few who had stimulated me by the
strength of their resistance or, on the other hand, matched me equally
in their ardour. .
"You're an old woman," Pam said. "I've nothing against... I mean, I
had sex with a girl one time, at school, but, hell, I believe in...
in consent."
"There is, please believe me," I begged.
She didn't bother to reply.
"Cathy?" I croaked.
"I don't know for sure if that was her name twenty years ago," Pam
said. "I met her last year... at a commune in the mountains.
She was in a bad state because her guru told her there was something
coming between her and complete spiritual fulfilment. If you ask me,
I think the guru was trying to hint that it was her money."
Pam snickered.
"Oh, she was loaded. She'd been married to a rich guy and she
ripped him off for plenty. Cathy saw it different to the guru.
She knew there was something in her former life that held her back.
He had to agree."
"I don't know her," I pleaded.
"She blames it for her depressions, for fucking up her life," Cathy
went on . "Remember, she was very young at the time. This was
twenty years ago. She was too ashamed to tell anyone."
"Why are you doing this?" I croaked .
"She's my friend," Pam said. "But, as well, she's helping me out
with a money problem I have,. Cathy isn't going to let fifty
thousand bucks stand between her and complete spiritual fulfilment -
you bet!"
"I'll give you more," I said hoarsely.
I didn't even convince myself and Pam's laugh mocked me.
I struggled furiously against my bonds and pleaded with her in vain.
I felt an overwhelming compulsion to masturbate.
"That's a well-equipped little office you have down the hall,! Pam
said. "I made twenty photocopies of this picture. I sent faxes to
the machines at the main office."
I burst into a storm of ugly weeping, yet I didn't care how degraded
Pam saw me and the desire in my belly and crotch was insistent.
"Yeah, I found your address book. I also sent copies to the three
people you were bragging about last night. I'll be leaving the rest
with you. I won't be going back to the office."
She started putting lipstick on her plump mouth.
"Neither will you, if you have any sense," she said and then she
gagged me again.

At four-thirty, around dawn, she came back, carrying her shoulderbag.
She untied my ankles and put my robe loosely over me. Leaving my
gag in place and with my wrists still bound behind me, she made me
stand in front of my cheval glass and look at my reflection. I
almost fainted at the sight. My hair was lank and unkempt looking
and my normally immaculate makeup had fouled my face and neck with
crusted muddy patches. My own body odour disgusted me, but I knew
now it was useless to beg her to let me wash. Pam wasn't
finished. She scribbled the bright scarlet lipstick on my cheeks,
then smeared them all over, so that I looked even more of a raddled
whore than I did in the photograph. She made me wait while she
washed her hands, then led me to the elevator, holding me by the
collar of my robe, like a common criminal.

When we reached the underground car park she laid the robe on the
ground and ordered me to kneel on it with my back to one of the
concrete pillars while she took a length of electric flex from her
shoulderbag. She passed it through the bonds on my wrists and then
wrapped and tied it round the pillar. Pam went clicking about
briskly on her high heels, putting copies of the Polaroid photograph
under the wipers of about ten of the cars. I burst into a storm of
weeping. It was so UNFAIR!. I begged and begged her again, but
she wasn't listening. She was nearly finished now. She took a
folded white card from her shoulderbag, opened it out and hung it
from a cord around my neck. Then she took a couple more Polaroids.
The card bore the word RAPIST in large red letters.

Because of the pillar just behind me, it was impossible to kneel
upright and, by the time she finally clacked confidently away
towards the elevators my head had fallen to rest on the filthy
surface of the floor. I cried with utter despair when she left.
It was cold in the garage and I was petrified by the thought of the
humiliation I had yet to endure. Yet I was still in her bonds and
I was astonished at the unsatisfied compulsion that raged in my womb
and breasts. Had she any idea of how much she was punishing me? I
fought and wrestled with all my strength and managed to get my body
a little nearer the ground, then tried to get my head between my legs,
but I felt my body sag in defeat. Then the cold took over. I
started shivering, crying. I still hoped Pam might have mercy on me
and come back and release me. At around six thirty I heard the
determined click of high heels and my heart nearly turned over.
But it was a woman coming to get her car out. She called the
janitor and he called the police.

The End


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