Introduction

 

Recently I edited a manuscript, written by a woman which was published under the title "Whipping up the Waves". Since then I have been flattered to receive a number of approaches from other women who have a story to tell and have asked for my assistance. In the case of the following story I was happy to assist because the protagonist was already known to me. The result comes from more than twenty hours of conversation and the reviewing of a number of audio and videotapes of events. Some of the names have been changed.

 

Chapter 1

 

"Please, Fiona, don't do this!"

For a second, seeing him like that, totally helpless, I almost relented but the moment passed.

"Show him, Marjorie."

There was a certain irony in involving his former secretary but, after a hesitant beginning, Marjorie was entering into the spirit of things with a vengeance. She turned her back to him and slowly began to unfasten her jeans. As she bent over to peel them down her legs, her pendulous breasts hung down to strain the blue cotton of her tee shirt and I could see why, notwithstanding her plain features, men would find her attractive. In truth, she should have avoided jeans. At twenty-five she was very much a part of the Levis generation but her Rubenesque figure did not lend itself to the demands of tight denim. She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her jeans and I noted her sensible panties. They had once been white but now showed signs of the rigours of repeated washing.

"Should I take them off?"

"Of course. He wouldn't have it any other way."

"Fiona, for God's sake!"

"One more word from you ..."

I left the terse threat hanging and watched as Marjorie removed her underwear to reveal a mousy patch of pubic hair in the hollow formed by the apex of her thighs and the overhang of her heavy belly. I could not see her buttocks from where I was standing but his whispered "Dear God!" was sufficient to tell me all I needed to know. I walked over to him and ran the back of my finger across his cheek.

"Is this sufficiently helpless for you?"

"Be reasonable, it was just a bloody fantasy!"

I ignored him and checked the tension of the thin leather strap binding his forehead to the two-inch wide steel bar that ran underneath his head and provided its sole support. It had taken me a little over an hour to complete the remainder of his bondage and my coffee table was never going to be the same again. It is onyx topped, five feet long, and his feet and head overhung at the ends but he was held totally immobile with white bookbinding tape which effectively mummified him from his shoulders down to his shins. When the time came to remove it he was going to lose a lot of body hair but that was his problem. He tried again to wrench himself free but it was a futile effort which only served to increase the discomfort caused by the steel bar which, as well as providing support for his head, ran the whole length of his body to emerge between his feet, bound to it with a second leather strap.

"Come here, Marjorie."

She was a large woman but she was in no way self-conscious about her body image. In fact she carried herself with a pride that almost verged on defiance.

"Are you sure about this? ... I mean ... he is your husband."

"Absolutely sure."

"Marjorie! Don't listen to her. It was never intended to be real!"

"Pay no attention to him, Marjorie, you know what to do."

She turned around, parted her legs and then eased backwards until she was straddling his head. Up to that point I had managed to remain totally dispassionate but, much to my own surprise, now that I could see her hovering just inches above his vulnerable face, I felt a familiar and ever increasing tingling between my thighs.

"Fiona! Stop this right now! It's insane!"

Marjorie looked down into his frightened eyes.

"You know what, when your wife first told me about this, I thought it was insane too but, now that I have you here, it all seems so natural."

He tried to move his head but the tight leather strap allowed him scant millimetres.

"Marjorie! Whatever you think I've done to you it's not worth this."

I had never seen him so afraid and it was turning me on to an extent that was scary in itself. Here was my husband, thirty four years old, with a rugby player's muscular physique. Until recently he had been running one of the City's busiest trading desks with responsibility for more than sixty members of staff, and now he was quailing at the prospect of what a young woman from the very bottom of the totem pole might do to him.

Marjorie was tuned in to the same vibration and, even as I watched, her nipples became visibly erect beneath her tee shirt. This evidence of her arousal increased my own urge to touch myself but I fought it down and waited to see how events would unfold. Marjorie did not show the same restraint. Her hand moved down between her legs and her fingers were soon busy.

"I'm feeling so horny."

Her language was coarse but that in itself only served to increase the erotic tension. There was nothing gentle about her ministrations, she mauled herself and her fingers were soon producing a soft sucking sound. I had not envisioned it this way but, then again, I had no clear idea how I expected things to pan out. Marjorie turned her wrist and pushed more firmly. She now had two fingers deep inside herself and his face was a picture of horror. I had never seen another woman play with herself so close to and I wondered if I should be finding it quite so arousing but she was not finished yet. She began to press her remaining fingers together and then, with an obvious effort, her hand disappeared up to the wrist. Her laboured breathing was the loudest sound in the room as both he and I remained stunned by her contortionist abilities.

She could only maintain the posture for a few seconds and then she pulled her hand free and held it up for her own inspection. It was coated with moisture and she parted her fingers to reveal glistening gossamer strands. She smiled to herself and then reached down to take hold of his chin before rubbing her thumb over his mouth. This was never part of the plan but his obvious distaste cranked up my own immediate need by another notch.

"Are you going to clean my fingers for me?"

He was apoplectic. His face flushed and he screamed at her.

"Fuck off!"

She looked completely unfazed.

"You've got a filthy mouth. What do you think I should do about it?"

"Marjorie, if you so much as mmmmffff ....!"

She bent her knees and settled heavily on his face and I almost climaxed on the spot. The steel bar creaked under the added burden and all that could be seen of his features were his bulging eyes. Marjorie remained still for a few seconds and then looked up at me.

"Is he good at holding his breath?"

"I guess we'll soon find out."

The answer came almost immediately. Notwithstanding Marjorie's added weight the table began to shake as he panicked for air. She looked back down at him and touched a finger to his forehead.

"Half a minute? A big boy like you must be able to do better than that."

He renewed his struggles but Marjorie remained unmoved. Another thirty seconds passed and I thought that I was going to have to intervene but, as I opened my mouth to speak, she lifted herself up and he heaved in a desperate breath.

"That's ... enough ... stop this now!"

He rasped out the words as his tortured lungs laboured to bring his breathing back to normal.

"Are you ready to clean my fingers?"

"You're insane! Fionmmmmfff ..."

Marjorie dropped back down again and I noticed that this time she clamped her ample thighs tightly about his head. My own nipples were now feeling decidedly uncomfortable within the confines of my bra and, whatever else, I was going to need a change of panties. Marjorie touched his forehead again which was now decidedly redder than it had been just a few seconds before.

"Feeling a little warm?"

The reply was a muffled scream from beneath the smothering hillocks of flesh but Marjorie showed no inclination to move. A minute passed and every following second could be ticked off by the excited pounding of my heart. It was nearly ninety seconds before she relented and, for a moment, I thought he had passed out but then he gasped in air like a pearl diver breaking the surface.

"Fiona! Please ... stop ... this!"

"I think you might want to address yourself to Marjorie."

Marjorie's smile broadened as she heard this and her fingers went idly to work at her sex. When she next spoke her tone was both playful and taunting.

"Do you want to change your mind?"

She rubbed her fingertips over his lips and his reaction was to clench his mouth tightly closed.

"Oh well, it's your choice."

She lowered herself again, this time more slowly, cutting off his fresh scream as she did so. Now she sat slightly further forward so that his whole face was buried beneath her and I found myself involuntarily holding my own breath. Marjorie was in a world of her own. She closed her eyes and her practiced fingers worked quickly and rhythmically in a tight circle and it was clear that she was getting close to a climax. I watched in fascination, unsure whether or not it was my husband's anguish or Marjorie's obvious pleasure that I was finding so arousing; in the throes of passion this Plain Jane had suddenly acquired an inner beauty.

She rose for barely a moment to allow him a single, life giving draught of air and then settled back down again, her fingers not missing a single beat and so the pattern was set. She drove herself ever closer to the edge now and again lifting herself fleetingly. The intervals were irregular so that he could never anticipate when he would be granted his momentary relief but the one, anguished, word I did hear again and again as she raised herself was "... please!"

The temperature in the room seemed to have risen several degrees and Marjorie's tee shirt was spotted with tiny damp patches. Unhappy with the restriction she impatiently pulled it up over her head and threw it to the floor before resuming with hardly a pause. Seeing her naked breasts, the image that came to mind was earth mother. They were made for suckling, full, heavy, with purposeful, inviting, nipples and no sooner had she freed them than she used her other hand to tease them to an even more prominent erection.

I was guessing that she was a woman who masturbated frequently and with relish and I felt a pang of jealousy. I had been married for a little over four years and, in that time, I had forsaken my favorite bedtime toys of old, perceiving it as a slight to my husband's abilities as a lover. For the most part I had been very satisfied but, more recently, our lovemaking had been less fulfilling and then of course there had been the revelations.

Marjorie raised herself once again but this time she remained poised just over his face. She used one hand to open herself and pushed two fingers of the other hand deep inside. She kept her fingers rigid and became to pump them in and out whilst at the same time she used her thumb to stimulate her clitoris.

He might have protested had he had the breath but, instead, his eyes remained fixed on her fingers with a look of horrid fascination. Marjorie worked her hand ever more quickly and started to moan. It was a low sound that was both animal and angelic and it was accompanied by the squelching sound of moisture. The reason for this quickly became apparent when she screamed to greet her climax. Her limbs began to shake and her head went back and then, to my amazement, she began to ejaculate. It fountained from her in spurts which quickly covered his disgusted face. I had heard of such things but this was the first time I had ever witnessed it and it left me eager to learn more.

The powerful orgasm left her drained and she slumped back down onto his face whilst she tried to recover herself. He attempted to scream in protest but she wriggled herself, forcing him deeper into her folds of flesh and he was quickly quietened. She turned to me as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to be using my husband's face as a seat and I began to realize that she had hidden depths.

"Are you going to take a turn?"

I was definitely going to avail myself in the future but a degree of fastidiousness prevented me from using his soiled face straight away; however, it did not preclude another option. I went over to my desk and picked up the scalpel that I use for cutting and mounting prints then, very carefully I began to cut a small hole in the tape immediately above his groin. Once the opening was created I put my finger inside and carefully fished out his flaccid manhood. Marjorie watched curiously.

"I don't think he's going to be much use to you."

I smiled at her.

"Just wait and see, stand up for a moment."

She did as she was asked, revealing his violently red face. I have to admit that even with his face abused as it was and with his hair slicked to his head with sweat he was still a handsome devil.

"Fiona ... cut me free."

He could tell by the look on my face that it was the last thing I intended to do.

"Fiona ... please ... don't do that!"

I knelt down and cupped my hand to his ear and whispered a few words that Marjorie tried, but failed, to hear. Almost immediately his manhood twitched and then began to unfurl as though attached to an airline.

"Fiona! ... Don't do this to me!"

"Marjorie, he's getting a little tiresome. Keep him quiet."

"Marjorie! Don'mmmmffffff ..."

She needed no second bidding but this time she sat facing his feet, her buttocks spread over his face, so that she could see what was going on. His erection slowly came to full mast, the foreskin retracting to reveal the livid head which looked marble hard. He measures a little over eight inches from root to tip but he has a pleasing girth and I could see that Marjorie was suitably impressed. I put my hands up under my skirt and, with relief, eased myself out of my sodden panties. I glanced up in time to catch a lustful look on Marjorie's face as my legs were revealed and, whilst I harboured no desires in that direction, it piqued the natural exhibitionist in me.

People tell me that I am a dead ringer for Michelle Pfeiffer and, whilst I strenuously deny it, I find myself checking every now and again to see how she is wearing her hair and make-up. In fact, with my fuller bust, I think I have a better figure that the Hollywood actress and I am always at pains to keep myself in good shape. I use a gym at least twice a week and, more recently, I have picked up on the latest fad for kickboxing.

I hitched my skirt and stepped over the table so that I was straddling his thighs. The tape around his legs felt odd between mine but the sensation was quickly forgotten as I took hold of his straining erection with fingers that failed to encircle him. The truncheon of flesh was so firm that I could feel his pulse and it was only with difficulty that I managed to pull it towards me. The feeling of him tensing beneath me as he tried to resist was delicious and I pulled it back just a little more than was absolutely necessary to remind him just how helpless he was.

I flipped my skirt forward over his erection and then lifted myself up. I was so wet that I could have sunk straight down onto him but I had another game to play. He is very ticklish and particularly so around his glans. I held him tightly in my hand and then began to ease myself very gently backwards and forwards so that my soft bush of blonde pubic hair brushed against the sensitive head of his erection with the lightness of a butterfly. His reaction was immediate. Notwithstanding the combined weight of all three of us the table jerked as he tried to escape.

Marjorie was clearly surprised, but not displeased, as his frenzied response pushed his head more firmly against her and she started to use her hips as she began to ride his face. I carried on teasing him for long minutes, his muffled screams telling me all I needed to know about his ever increasing torment, but eventually I had to sate my own needs. Still holding him tight I bore down more firmly and began to stimulate my clitoris. I closed my eyes as shivers of pleasure raised goosebumps on my skin and I knew that it would not take much more to bring me to a climax but the game was still afoot. I moved forward fractionally and held him poised at the entrance for a second or two whilst I gathered myself. It was then simply a matter of relaxing my muscles and allowing myself to slide down the pole. The feeling as he slowly filled me was almost indescribable. My muscles stretched millimetre by millimetre to accommodate him and the pleasurable sensations increased in a perfect correlation. When he was fully home I let him take my weight whilst I waited for my heartbeat to settle and then I began a slow, metronomic, rise and fall. His manhood acted as a pump drawing more moisture from me with every stroke and the room reeked of sex.