Best Bondage Erotica 2013 (21 page)

“Two,” Linda told her mother. “Two guys from the Reserve.”

A collective gasp from her family, like she'd admitted to hiring Freddy Krueger and Hannibal Lecter. It was her mother who'd said, “Indians?”

“Yeah, they're Cree,” Linda shot back. She wasn't taking any prisoners. “You got a problem with that?”

Her mother had looked around the room for support, but everyone took a sudden and extreme interest in his or her own cuticles, so her mother said a simple, “No, not at all.”

And that was that.

Linda remembered that conversation as she looked out across the land they'd be working today. Gorgeous weather. They were very lucky this year. Growing conditions were ideal, or so said Albert and Roy. What would she do without them?

Stripping off her robe, Linda walked out the back door, letting the morning sun kiss her naked flesh. Roy had on a dusty pair of jeans, but Albert wore nothing at all. They'd finished filling the wheelbarrow with the first round of dirt and were now washing their calloused hands in the basin. When they looked
up and saw her, their eyes grew dark with lust, like they hadn't made love to her last night before going to sleep and again this morning before any of them were quite awake.

This was different. Out here, it wasn't making love; it was some sort of makeshift organic farming ritual. They told themselves and each other it made a difference, but even if their crops didn't grow any better after they'd worked their collective magic, Linda loved the process too much to ever give it up.

“You've got the twine?” she asked Roy, since he was the only one wearing pants.

He pulled the twine from one back pocket, and his knife from the other. “Right here. You ready?”

“Sure am.” She smiled, catching sight of the thick outline of his cock beneath his jeans. Her pussy pulsed in anticipation, and she felt a little dizzy as she sent her hands behind her back, touching her wrists together. “Let's get going.”

The scratchy twine against her forearms always made Linda feel itchy all over. Even her clit tickled, aching for the men's rough touch. Albert and Roy both worked behind her back, wrapping her wrists with that prickly string, tying it just hard enough to make her wriggle. Her pussy was wet already—it had been since she woke up. Linda spent most of the day ready for Albert or Roy, or Albert and Roy. She craved their cocks like a treat, a little reward for a job well done.

Not that their cocks were little…

Linda gasped when she caught sight of Albert's erection. It whacked her thigh as both men lifted her off her feet, setting her down gently on the pile of cool dirt in the wheelbarrow. They were always most attentive to her head and her butt, careful not to smack her skull on the front lip of the metal tub, or let her ass sink down into the dirt. A while back, Albert had duct-taped an old towel to the back of the wheelbarrow so its rim wouldn't
bang against the base of her spine as they crossed bumpy terrain. It worked like a charm.

Quite apart from the men's knowledge and abilities on the growing patch, Linda valued them for the care they showed her at work and at play. Albert and Roy wouldn't hurt a fly—that's what had drawn them so strongly to organic farming.
Do no harm
, just like Socrates said.

“Are you comfortable?” Albert asked, smiling down at her.

Squinting against the sun, she looked between him and Roy. “Yep, I'm good.”

Gazing beyond the rise of her breasts and her dark cloud of pubic hair, Linda watched the pair wrangle her legs, splaying them and wrapping them with twine. She wanted to shield her eyes from the bright light, but of course her arms were tied behind her back, sinking into the black dirt. All she could do was close her eyes against the sun's brilliance, feeling their hard hands on her soft skin, securing her calves to the wheelbarrow's wooden handles with that taunting, prickly twine.

“Doin' okay?” Roy asked. “Not too tight?”

“No, it's fine,” Linda said, and laughed. “I'm just itching for a fuck.”

“Or two,” Albert joined in, his voice cheery as usual. “Shake your legs a bit. Feelin' loose anywhere?”

Linda tried to kick up and away from the wheelbarrow's handles, but she was well and truly stuck. “Perfect, guys. You get better at this every time we do it.”

Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the smile they shared.

“You want it in before we go?” Albert asked.

She nodded, then said, “Yes, please.”

Despite the fierce sunshine, she had to open her eyes for this, and lift her head to watch. Albert's dick shot straight as an
arrow from his dark thatch of pubic hair, and he wrapped his fist around the shaft, aiming for Linda's slit. Her pussy was just begging for it, and Albert heard the call. He teased her at first, dabbing his cockhead into her juice, tracing it up to her clit and rubbing the two together.

Roy stood behind Albert, watching over his shoulder as that big dick sunk into her. Linda groaned, not just at the sensation, but the sight of Roy writhing slowly against Albert. She couldn't see what was going on back there at this angle, but she knew from experience Roy was rubbing his dick against Albert's naked ass, getting ready for his turn.

Setting both hands on her thighs, Albert fucked her languorously, like they had all the time in the world. That damn sun was killing her, but she couldn't close her eyes to his muscled abs. She loved the way they rippled as he thrust.

“Let's go,” Roy said from behind.

Linda gasped as he wrapped his hands around the wheelbarrow's wooden handles, digging his thumbs into her calves so hard she'd have bruises later. She knew this from experience. When he geared up to lift, Linda braced herself, hugging Albert's dick, milking it with her pussy, and he groaned.

With a laugh, she warned, “Don't come yet, Bertie-Boy.”

His strain showed on his face, clear as day, and he'd just recovered from near-orgasm when Roy said, “We ready to go?”

Linda tried to reach out at her sides, grip the wheelbarrow for support, until she remembered her arms were tied behind her back. Right now, they were sinking in the gorgeous dark earth, which smelled like life to Linda.

“Yes,” she said. “Let's go.”

With Albert's help, Roy heaved the wheelbarrow up until Linda was on a sharp incline. Blood and energy rushed to her head, making her giddy, making her pelvis and her toes tingle.
Albert's cock struck her at a different angle when the boys started down the worn path, slowly, always slowly. They were careful with her, and she loved that about them. Nobody had ever taken care of her in quite the way they did.

As the men pushed the wheelbarrow, and Linda along with it, down toward the garden patch, Albert's cock rode her pussy with a constant rocking motion. That steady rise and fall reminded Linda of riding a horse, even though she'd never actually ridden one. She tried to buck up at him for more, but the twine did its job. With her legs secured to the wheelbarrow's handles, she couldn't move. She was totally at the men's mercy.

The terrain was bumpy, but every hitch along the way sent Albert's cock plunging harder into Linda's pussy. Anyway, her head was cushioned by soil and her ass by the towel, so she had no real fear of being injured by bumps in the road.

When Albert and Roy slowed and then set the wheelbarrow down, Linda moaned, “Oh, are we there already?”

“You bet,” Roy said, pulling Albert out of the way. “Albert was just the warm-up act. It's my turn now.”

She laughed at his insistence, straining to watch Roy drop his jeans while Albert came at her from the side. With so much going on, it was hard to concentrate on one man or the other, but Roy certainly made himself known, thrusting into her wet pussy without Albert's dainty appeals. Roy's cock always impressed her, not only with its girth, but its upward curvature had a way of finding her G-spot and really going at it. In moments, she was writhing in the dirt, side to side, threatening to topple the wheelbarrow.

Albert approached, cock in hand, and steadied the basin as he rubbed his veiny shaft against Linda's lips. He couldn't fuck her mouth at this angle, so she stuck out her tongue enough that he could rub his cockhead against it while he jerked off. She
tasted her pussy on his hot flesh, and smelled their sex like a home-cooked meal, an aroma that left her wanting more.

While Roy tickled Linda's G-spot with his dick, he surprised her by pressing his thumb down on her clit. She gasped and jerked, but there was nowhere to go. His firm touch worked her into a fast frenzy, but she couldn't even toss her head about. Albert's fist raced up and down his thick shaft, and she was afraid she might accidentally get punched in the face if she moved.

So she lay there, mouth wide open, legs splayed, and let the men work her over. Roy grasped her thighs, bucking fervently in her pussy, which pulsed and milked him every time he rubbed her clit.

Albert stroked his shaft all the while, grinding his cockhead against her tongue as she moaned open mouthed. She struggled to stay put, to keep still, to swallow, to breathe. The combined pleasures of their threesome rode up and down her spine like lightning until she couldn't resist closing her mouth around Albert's cock and sucking hard.

Both men groaned simultaneously, and Roy pressed his palm down on her clit, mashing it relentlessly, driving her wild. The explosions deep down in her belly came out through her men's bodies as they spewed inside of her simultaneously.

They pulled out quickly, Albert from her mouth and Roy from her pussy, to spill their seed across her thigh, her neck, and into the soil. That was the point of this, after all. Linda didn't even swallow the come that had erupted into her mouth—she turned her head and spit it into the black dirt, like a sacrifice.

The sun beat down on Linda's skin while she closed her eyes, resting as the men got to work. In a few minutes they would untie her legs and lift her out of the wheelbarrow, then set her wrists free. She'd go to the house and throw on some work clothes, and another day of tending to nature would begin.

But for now, she rested in the cool soil and listened as her men laughed together. Why leave the city? Why move out to the middle of nowhere?

Why indeed…

 

 

 

 

 

The heat was the worst. The heat, and the fact that she had to go to the toilet, as soon as possible.

It hadn't been like this the last time he'd tied her up. She'd been on their bed then, a nice and comfy place. Moreover, he had used her so quickly that she'd been astonished at how soon it had been over. She guessed “furious” was the right word to describe it. Furious and brutal and, well,
memorable
.

Nor had it been like this the last time he had tied her to a chair. They'd been in Paris at the time, in a hotel where everything seemed to be at least a hundred years old. He'd bound her to a leather armchair, soft enough to be comfortable and old enough to be stylish, and some of its antique beauty had seemed to rub off on her. She'd felt elegant sitting in that chair, whose color perfectly matched the black of her corset and stockings. Yes, she'd felt elegant, despite the fact that her legs were spread wide and she was wearing a ball gag that made her drool. And although Steve had lashed her with both words and whips, she'd
enjoyed the experience, because it was so very iconic and because she had always wanted to be part of such an opulent tableau.

She did
not
want to be part of
this
tableau. She did not want to be sitting here in their messy living room on this cheap and nasty IKEA chair, bound with a type of rope that she normally didn't mind, but which now chafed horribly against her sweaty skin. Nor did she want to be sitting here in front of the window, bathed in sunlight on what was probably the hottest day of the year.

Sweat was running in rivulets down her naked back and between her breasts. It was pooling on the seat of the plastic IKEA chair that was her prison, and was making her skin both itchy and sticky. A few times already she'd felt a stab of discomfort as she'd wriggled in her chair, only to feel her skin tear off the smooth, white plastic with a ripping sound. It hurt and not in the way she liked.

And then there was the fact that she had to go to the loo. This was a problem she hadn't encountered before, as Steve generally had his way with her long before her bladder filled up. This time, though, he seemed hell-bent on keeping her waiting. And since the luxurious Sunday morning breakfast to which he'd treated her had involved a large pot of tea as well as two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice, and since it was now well into the afternoon, the pressure on her bladder was getting intense.

In the end, she couldn't take it anymore.

“Sir?” she asked plaintively.

He looked up from the newspaper he'd been reading for the last hour and a half. Lord knows how a man could read newspapers for an hour and a half, but he seemed to enjoy his Sunday papers. They were as much part of their Sunday ritual as their scheduled play sessions.

“Yes, kitten?” His voice was innocent, but even from the
short distance she could tell that his eyes were full of mischief. She should have expected that. She knew as well as he did that he enjoyed watching her squirm. No doubt he knew exactly what she was about to ask him. No doubt he had fed her all that tea and orange juice on purpose, knowing that it would come back to haunt her and that he'd get to see her feeling very, very uncomfortable.

“May I go to the bathroom, please, Sir?” She hoped that her voice conveyed the urgency of the situation without making her sound undignified. She hated being undignified, which made it all the more bizarre that she had chosen to submit to a man who liked to strip her of her dignity as a matter of routine.