Home Entertainment by mongostoy copyright 2006

Our guests are late, and my husband and I sit on the couch watching tv. I feel unusually relaxed. Generally I am never ready for anything, busy until past the last minute with preparations, but tonight everything is in place and we’re just hanging. The tv is not holding my attention and I seem to be in a playful and somewhat slaphappy mood.

I lean over my husband, teasing and rubbing him with my body, but he pushes me away. I go to the kitchen and come back with a banana, peeling it most provocatively and eating it with exaggerated motions and conspicuous tongue movements. He seems to barely notice. Frustrated, I throw the remainder of the fruit away, but I am still determined to get to him.

Not sure what got into me. It isn’t wise.

I sit back next to him and put my hand on his jeans, where his thighs meet. Even as a I feel a rising hardness underneath, he warns me. “Stop it.”

I nibble his ear.

And now I’ve torn it.

Finally he caresses me back, rubbing his arm across my shirt front and then cupping a breast with his hand. I snuggle in, but the cupped hand slips away, becomes just fingers, and they pinch down, hard and without warning, on my sensitive nipple. I squeal.

“Okay,” he says. “You wanted to play. And play you’ll get.”

He disappears into the bedroom, but is back almost instantly with leather cuffs and double sided metal clips. With the confident moves of the practiced dominant, he has them around my wrists within seconds and pulls me to the doorframe between the kitchen and living room, restraining my hands over my head locked onto a handy hook that he just happened to have placed there some time ago. I’ve been here before.

Just then the doorbell rings.

I pull violently at my arms and cast my husband an anguished look. He laughs, but gently. “You asked for it, sweetie, you asked for it.” The tone is mild, the voice caressing, but the intent iron.

He runs his hand down my raised arm, into my armpit, and down my side. He gives me a peck on the lips and then goes to open the door.

Our guests, whom we do not know all that well but we met them in a bdsm context, start to walk in and freeze in the doorway. They take in the sight and then relax and come all the way into the room.

“Hey,” he says. “You started without us, I see.”
His wife laughs then looks at me and at my husband. She comes in and puts her hand on my hip. “Is this dinner? She looks great.”

I stiffen but remain silent. “Sure,” says my husband. “Help yourself.” I yank on the chain. He reaches out to my hands, stifling the movement. “After all, that’s what she wanted. Isn’t it, honey?”

I remain silent. “No,” I say in my head. “No! No!” but a shiver of anticipation runs through my body and I’m sure they can see it.

“Where are my manners? Come on in, I’ll give you a drink.” Dan, my husband, enters the kitchen, pushing past my body to do so. As he goes through, his hands graze my crotch.

Laurie comes over to me and plants herself in front of me, so we are nose to nose. She puts her hands on either side of me. “Well,” she says. “Well, well, well. We will have fun tonight.” Then she pushes past me as well. “Let me help you, Dan.”

They bring out glasses and sit down on the couch. Uncomfortable and humiliated, I yank at the chain.

“I guess she’s had enough,” said Dan. “We have to take care of the poor thing. She can’t keep her arms raised that long. Mark, why don’t you unsnap that clip?”

I blush in utter embarrassment and confusion as Mark makes no attempt to hide the bulge in his jeans. At least he knows enough to steady me as I am released. But maybe I would rather fall than have him touch me.

I’m ready to escape into my own bedroom but the voice of command reaches me before I can do so. “Come here, t.”

I approach my husband and stand before him. He signals to me with his face and chin, and I, despite my public state, drop to my knees before him. “That’s right,” he says. “Oh, t, we are going to have fun tonight.”


Part ii:
I have a brief respite from the onslaught of sensation that has been assaulting me all evening. As I lay back in my spread-eagled position, too tightly tied to move very much, I try to make sense of it and figure out how I arrived here.

After I had been released from the doorframe, earlier, we had all visited for a while. My contribution to the conversation had been fairly minimal; my embarrassment too acute. But I stuck it out. Later, we had all sat down to watch a movie. But it was arranged that the other three were sitting on the couch and I was placed on a low ottoman in front of them. Somehow, in the dim light of the movie, I found many hands on me. All over me. Usually a firm caress, but sometimes the fingers brushed so lightly as to be a tickle and sometimes they were rough and pinched in sensitive places. Sometimes over my clothes and sometimes under them. And as time went on, my clothing became more than a little disheveled. Somebody’s hands, female hands, slipped under my shirt and unhooked my brassiere. Male hands tugged at the button on my jeans and a finger slipped inside the garment. My arm got pulled out of my sleeve, so that my shirt was hanging half off.

“You know,” said Laurie, “I think I’ve had enough of the movie.”

“How about you, t?” asked my husband.

“I’d like to watch.”

They laughed and turned it off. The light came on. “My goodness, t,” said Dan. “If you can’t keep your clothes on properly, perhaps you shouldn’t wear them. Take them off.”

I didn’t move.

“Take them off.”

I turned around and started to comply. Since they were already half off, it wasn’t going to take very long.

He spun me around. “Stand up straight. Look straight at us.”

Moving slowly, but with my head held high, I removed every article, folded each one, and put them in a pile. I resolutely returned the gaze of my loving tormentors.


I’ve been enjoying the brief break but I am blindfolded so the gentle, warm sensation catches me by surprise. Someone is licking me, flicking my clitoris with a practiced tongue. And I don’t know who it is. Whoever it is is kneeling between my spread legs and not touching me at all other than that single point of contact between tongue and vulva. I can’t tell yet.

Maybe it’s Laurie. She has a sadistic streak that has stunned me tonight. From her welcoming of the situation, to pulling off my clothes during the movie, to wielding a multi-tailed flogger with a heavy hand. She has worked me up and down. But maybe she knows a gentle touch as well.

While the person continues to stimulate me, the other two work together to unbind my ankles and raise my legs, retying them to the top of the bed rather than the bottom and effectively bending me in half. I think those hands are male, confirming that is Laurie licking, throughout all the movements going on. My body is responding to her.

After checking on the new bonds, a person straddles himself over my face and slides his cock into my mouth. It is my husband. I know his feel. He pulls himself in and out, probing deep. And then, in my new and even more exposed position, I feel the tip of a penis pushing into my tight anal ring. What is it? Plastic or flesh? Dildo or real? I try to ask, to object, but Dan pushes deeper into my mouth, my lips encircle his shaft to receive him, and any sounds I make are unintelligible.

I decide it is a dildo and positioning confirms this. Laurie is still licking me. There cannot be two people in the same place.

This is a lot for me. When Dan pushes into the same place, he is gentle with me. “No,” I say. “Oh yes,” he replies, “Relax, don’t push.” And he works through the ring and gets the dildo in. But now there is so much going on. I can’t speak, because my mouth is full. Laurie hasn’t let up on me. And while Mark’s hands have been firm and steady, I don’t trust him the way I do my husband. The reassurance isn’t the same.

But he keeps pushing. The sounds I am making are quite strange. A mixture of pleasure, fear and concentration. And he gets the item into me. Pushes it all the way in. Then draws it part way out and pushes again. Repeating that, careful not to pull it all the way out and have to work past the sphincter again.

I go wild. And I don’t know how to express it.

If my mouth were free I would be screaming in a lust filled ecstasy. But I must not forget my husband, as he keeps reminding me, despite the rising sounds coming past his shaft out of my mouth. If my body were free I would thrash around uncontrollably. But the bindings are secure, the position awkward, and Laurie has abandoned her no contact position to hold down my bucking hips, her tongue still working me.

The anal sensation makes me desperate for orgasm. The clitoral stimulation on top of that starts to push me over. But the concentration and necessity to continue working with my mouth keeps me from full orgasm as does the full onslaught. Too much sensation can make it hard for me to come. And so my body continues to rise into a superaroused state. I have attained ten and passed it on the arousal scale but somehow missed the orgasm.

As my husband groans, and releases himself into me, I know it is almost over. I increase my already intense concentration, accepting his come, sucking his softening penis and trying to swallow around it. Over the years his release has become a kind of release for me, and my body calms, accepting the other sensations less wildly.

After a few more thrusts, Mark pushes it in and leaves the dildo in me. Laurie, whose endurance I admire, gets up and lays down next to me, while the men turn loose my bindings.

I lie there, spent without release, panting. I massage my wrists, tired from being held so long. I mentally take inventory of myself, still tingling from the thorough spanking and flogging the three had administered earlier.

But it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair, I say in my mind. It isn’t fair.

My husband holds on to me and hugs me in his arms.

“Well, t,” he says. “Maybe next time.”