Love Bound (39 page)

“A man?” Daniela asked. He had raised
his voice, and Steve had an idea that this was for his benefit. It had to be;
Daniela had to know that he hadn’t left the house yet.

“Yes, a man. Little slut. You love
that, don’t you? You love that a man is in here watching you flash your wet pussy.
I should have brought girls in, you know. Nasty slutty girls like you. They
could have played with these big firm, swelling titties of yours.” She fingered
his chest again—there was nothing either firm or swelling about it, but Steve
noticed that Daniela had very large, almost gumdrop-sized nipples. He hadn’t
noticed them before—possibly, he thought, because before they hadn’t been
erect, as they were now.

“Oh God, no,” Daniela whimpered,
arching his back. It didn’t sound as though he were just being theatrical; he
sounded on the verge of tears. “Not that, please not that…” Steve had no idea
why the idea of being seen by girls should have such an effect on the guy, but
it very clearly did. His cock was at least as hard as his tits, and like them
it was considerably larger than Steve remembered from his initial glimpse.

It occurred to Steve that he had never
actually seen another guy’s cock before, let alone one in such a state of
obvious excitement. He looked away, but his eyes kept coming back to it. It looked
strange to him.

“Don’t worry, I’m in a good mood
today. Next time, maybe, I won’t be so nice. But today you’ve got a very nice
gentleman here.” She lifted her head, flashing Steve an unreadable look.

“Does he…like me?” Daniela was
smiling—or at least the corners of his mouth were stretched upward. He looked
as though he were facing something he feared at least as much as the girls
Julie had threatened him with.

“Yes, he does. He thinks you’re a very
pretty girl. Very hot. He told me so.” Julie looked at Steve, and he wondered
if he were supposed to chime in with a comment. He hoped not; he had no idea
what he’d say. Fortunately, Julie went on with the show.

“Does he like my hair?” Daniela’s
voice became coy. Steve almost laughed. He wanted to walk over and tear the
blindfold off Daniela’s face.
Come on, man, this is crazy! Let’s go out for
a beer or something!

“Yes he does. And your pretty toes and
fingernails. He loves how prettily you’ve made yourself up. And you know what
else he likes?”

“What?” Daniela quavered.

Julie’s voice turned cold. “Your ass. He
told me he wants to see it flogged until it’s a lovely cherry red. Stand up.”

She led Daniela to a tall X-shaped
stand in one corner and bound his hands to the upper bars of the X. He stood
with his back to Steven, displaying a second, intricate tattoo just above his
ass.

Jesus Christ, he’s got a tramp stamp
…

Julie selected a flogger from the
assortment hanging on the wall. As she passed Steven, she gave him a quick,
blank look. He returned it as best he was able. When Julie’s eyes flashed down
to his crotch, he blushed.

“I’m not fucking turned on by this…”
he hissed, but Julie was already back at the X-frame, aiming a series of sharp
blows with the flogger on Daniela’s ass. It didn’t quite turn “cherry
red”—Daniela was too dark complexioned. Steve suspected he barely felt the
flogger striking him. But Daniela twisted and writhed on the frame like a soul
in Hell, whining and gasping.

“Oh, Daniela,” Julie said, booming the
words out between lashes. “Oh, your man just loves your ass. What’s that? You
want me to hit her harder?”

“God,” Steve muttered.

It went on for some time. When Julie
finally let him off the frame, Daniela did seem slightly the worse for wear. He
limped as he was led to the bondage table, and whined as he climbed up and
stretched out on his back.

Within moments Julie had him strapped
down hand and foot. Steve caught her eye and tapped his watch.
How much
longer
? She nodded, then shook her head, glancing once at Daniela’s cock,
which stood up like an accusing finger.
Not long now
.

There was some more words to the
effect that Steve liked seeing “his girl” tied up and helpless, that he found
the sight of her “big clit” in particular sexy as hell. Daniela was subjected
to a few more lashes around the groin. Then Julie untied his right hand.

Steve sighed.
Almost over. Thank
God
.

“There, sweetie. There’s your man. There
he is, watching you.”

With that, Julie took the blindfold
off. Daniela blinked, then craned his head upward and looked at Steve. Steve
kept his face deadpan, much as he would have liked to laugh at the whole thing.

Then, using his freed right hand, not
once looking away from Steve, Daniela took hold of his cock and began jerking
off.

Steve was horrified.

“You said there wasn’t…you said…”

“Did I? What did I say, exactly?”

You said no body fluids
, Steve thought. But if he called her
on that she could just laugh at him. He had an idea the fact that said fluids
were spilled by Daniela’s own hand meant they somehow didn’t count.

Daniela continued jerking off, his
eyes locked on Steve’s. Steve found he couldn’t look away; something about the
whole scene compelled him to keep looking.

Is this guy into me or something? Like
he wants me to take him out and give him flowers…or fuck him? Or does he want
to fuck me?

Julie stood behind Daniela, stroking
his hair and making shushing noises. Suddenly Daniela’s face softened and white
jetted from his cock, splattering his leg and the black leather of the table.

“God,” Daniela whispered, finally shut
his eyes. “That was good. That was freaking awesome.”

“Good,” Julie said, tenderly stroking
his forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” She began undoing the shackle on
his other hand. She looked up at Steve and jerked her head towards the door.

The look said, clear as day,
You
can go now. Your services are no longer required.

Something in Steve half-expected
Daniela to beg him to stay…or was it that he
wanted
that to happen.

No. No, fuck it. Fuck it, I’m out of
here.

Numbly, he stumbled out of the room,
and out of the house.

***

Julie didn’t answer her phone when
Steve called later, and he didn’t leave a message. He wasn’t sure why he wanted
to talk to her anyway. He had nothing to say to her.

She was nuts. She had turned into a
man-hating psycho who wanted all men to be women. It wasn’t his fault. He’d
tried to do the right thing, and she’d made him complicit with her madness.

Rain began later that evening. Steve
had thought about going for a drink, but the rain shitcanned that idea. Instead
he lay on the hotel bed, stroking himself through his underwear. He thought of
a girl with long hair being fucked. The girl had a tramp stamp and a jagged
tattoo around her neck. He was the one doing the fucking, but gradually he
changed that to Julie.

The girl cried out when she came. So
did Steve.

About Colin

Colin is a Virginia-based
erotica writer with a special interest in fetish-based material. For many years
he has produced tickling fiction for
MTJ
Publishing
, including the ebooks Captured by Amazons, Bad Girls, Torture of
the Caress and the three-volume Laughing Boys series. He has also scripted a
number of comics for MTJ, including the highly successful Lexi and Tammi the
Tickle Witch series. He blogs at
gigglegasm.com
.

Professional Help

By Penelope Street

Claudia hesitated as she read the
white painted letters on the door:
Dr. Henry Stuart, M.D., Ph.D.
, and
then the single word beneath that ricocheted throughout her brain:
Psychiatrist. She wanted to reach for the handle, but her hand declined to
move.

For years she had suspected she might
need professional help; her closest friends had echoed that opinion on more
than one occasion. Now only one hand and one door stood between her and a
chance for a normal life. She dropped her brow and her gaze.

I do want a normal life, don't I?

With a firm lip, Claudia forced her
treasonous fingers to the handle, threw the door wide, and strode into the
office beyond. Marching to the receptionist's desk, she glanced at the
nameplate before looking to the woman behind. "Hello Jenny," she
began, "I'm Claudia Burns. I believe I have an appointment for two o'clock
but I'm meant to fill out some paperwork before then."

The receptionist flashed a civil smile
and reaching for a clipboard and a pen. "Yes, ma'am. If you'll please have
a seat on the couch and fill these out. Dr. Stuart's one o'clock rescheduled,
so he can see you as soon as you are finished."

Claudia nodded and accepted the
clipboard. Muttering a token, "Thank you," she examined the paperwork
on her way to the sofa where began the monotonous task of filling out the short
stack of forms.

A quarter-hour later, she returned to
the receptionist.

"Finished?" Jenny inquired.

"Yep," Claudia acknowledged
with a shallow nod, extending the hand bearing the clipboard.

"Ok, then." Jenny accepted
the paperwork. "I'll give these to Dr. Stuart. Please have a seat."

Claudia returned to the sofa.

Another fifteen minutes passed before
the receptionist summoned her, "Miss Burns?"

Claudia rose. "Yes?"

Jenny flashed an innocent smile.
"Dr. Stuart will see you now. Right through that door."

Claudia's confidence wavered again as
she turned to face the mahogany panel that stood between her and the doctor.
Am
I really going to see a shrink? Am I really crazy? Only one way to find out
.
With the same firm lip, she barged through the portal.

Henry Stuart stood and greeted his
incoming patient with a raised brow and a civil smile. "Good afternoon,
Miss Burns."

Claudia eyed the doctor. He certainly
didn't look like a psychiatrist to her. The man was younger than she had
expected, tall and lanky too, with a curly mop of dirty blonde hair. His coat
didn't match his trousers and neither fit better than the other. He looked much
more like Bob Dylan than Bob Newhart.

"Good afternoon, Doctor,"
she replied with a polite bob of her head.

"You prefer the chair, or the
couch," Dr. Stuart asked, motioning to both seats.

Claudia's eyes darted to the black
leather sofa and the matching chair. "Isn't the couch the traditional
place for the patient?"

"Yes, Miss Burns, but I believe
in doing things because they work, not because everyone else does them. Perhaps
that's one of the reasons I have been successful in curing every one of my
patients."

"Every one?"

Henry flashed a closed-mouth grin.
"One hundred percent."

The woman smiled and nodded.
"I'll take the chair then. And do call me Claudia."

Henry picked up his clipboard and
strolled to the sofa before lying down as if he was the patient.
"Now," Henry began, "As I understand it, you've a history of
being abused by your spouses. Correct?"

"Yes and no." Claudia
replied. "You see, I am attracted to men who treat me in ways most women
do not wish to be treated, that much is true, but I enjoy it." She shook
her head in a slow, wobbly motion. "I mean, can you really call it abuse
if you enjoy it?"

"But you do want this pattern of
behavior to stop?"

"Yes," Claudia replied.
"I want to quit enjoying it."

"Why do you want to quit enjoying
it?"

"Well," Claudia's brow fell
as she paused. "I'm not supposed to like it, right? I mean there is
something wrong with me; isn't there?"

"Ordinarily, one would think
so," said Henry, "but wrong is really such a vague term, isn't it?
Perhaps we should look into why you enjoy this treatment and then perhaps we
can discover how you might change your outlook."

Claudia issued another shallow nod.
"Ok."

"Tell me about your
parents," Dr. Stuart instructed. "Were they overly strict?"

Claudia shook her head at once.
"No. Quite the opposite. I can't remember either of them ever even yelling
at me, much less laying a hand upon me. They spoiled me and doted on me in
every way."

"You were well-off then?"

"Very much so," Claudia
replied. "And they still help me out. Without them, I couldn't afford to
be here."

"So your parents were
overprotective?"

"Very."

"And how did you respond to that?
Especially during the teenage years."

"Oh, I was a rather bad
teenager." Claudia paused to release a large sigh. "I tried smoking
and drinking, and even took a drag on a marijuana cig once. And I had sex with
three different men before I was twenty."