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It wasn’t long before the weekend rolled around again, and Friday night’s No Entry Club meeting would be the last at my house until Monday evening. For all the club members it would be a whole two evenings of solitude, alone-time and watching the telly by ourselves all evening while my bedrooms stayed silent and dark, and the cheerful noise of female friendship did not visit the kitchen twice each night. Rover, the cat, and I would sit in the dimly-lit living room looking despondently at each other and taking it in turns to sigh melodramatically while the single candle burned down towards the rudimentary candle holder and the time draws on and the clock ticks slowly towards an early bedti…What nonsense! For several weekends now, Saturday and Sunday nights were club nights just like the rest of the week – except that people met in pairs and triplets in whoever’s homes were suited for it, if they could. Charity, Jennifer and Himari’s homes were popular. The other club members had discovered what it’s like compulsorily being wheelchair users or blind (for an hour or two, anyway), and had enthusiastically embraced those conditions, much to Charity’s and Jennifer’s pleasure and satisfaction. And, of course, their own pleasure and satisfaction too.Usually, I had other things to attend to on Saturdays and Sundays, such as cleaning the house and going to another Sunday roast lunch at my brother’s place for a good feed and a day of family entertainment.However, this weekend there was a big ‘do’ on at the hotel my two brothers ran, so I was left to my own devices. Suzanna had offered to give me ‘some more’ any time I wanted, and I had reminded her of that promise.“Ah, yes, great!” she had replied. “Saturday at my place, Stella? Come for lunch and stay all night if you wish!”Saturday rolled around, and I left Rover, the cat, with strict instructions not to break into her time-controlled cat food dispenser and eat all the food in one go, which she faithfully promised she wouldn’t, though I noticed her paws were crossed.Suzanna lived by herself in quite a nice house, not big but not small either, in one of the posher areas of Tiverton where the houses weren’t built within earshot of the next house. It was a two-bedroom house with rooms bigger than average and a reasonably secluded garden. We greeted each other passionately, dragging ourselves away from each other after a good solid hug. I found that Suzanna was an excellent pastry cook with no one to bake for except some friendly neighbours with expanding waistlines. Lunch was therefore wonderful, with the added bonus that my pussy was aching to touch hers again. And I could tell from the way she looked at me that hers was doing the same. She then showed me around the house.The last room she showed me was her own bedroom. She opened the door and ushered me in. I literally gasped as I looked around the room. Black straps and metal chains hung from the walls, and pink fluffy cushions and ribbons were placed at strategic points around the room. And there were a few other things lying around which I didn’t notice at first.She let me savour the moment. I stood there, istanbul travesti flabbergasted while she stood there smiling naughtily.“I’m into bondage. You’re the first other person to see this room. I guessed you might like it based on our sex session last week. I can use some of this stuff by myself, but the other things I have yet to try because it needs two people. I hoped you and I might try them together,” she explained. “Don’t worry, I don’t do full-on dominance or sadomasochism – those are completely different, although bondage does involve a tiny bit of dominance.”She squinted at me through her glasses, doubtless hoping I wasn’t going to run screaming out of the house into the street shouting for help.“And, no, he hasn’t seen this or been to this house and doesn’t know where I live.”We both knew who she meant. She meant the unspoken Dave, the lying and abusive pile of steaming crud, one-time partner of mine and concurrent lover of hers until we had each found out about the other lover in his life. Which we had done at the exact same moment.Suddenly, á propos of nothing, I started to worry about whether I was wearing the right underwear. Of course, it was clean on two hours ago, and very new thanks to a recent delivery from La Redoute. And it all fitted well, which was a novelty for me. I looked around the room. Black leather and metal things lay everywhere, which would make me in my bra and knickers look like an elderly Puritan spinster on Dress-In-Black Sunday. But then, how was I to have known?The door swung shut behind me.“OK, Suzanna,” I began. “This looks fun.”Her face broke into a smile.“Why don’t you take me through what you’ve got here? Pretend I am a complete beginner in …”I paused to choose the right words carefully.“… this,” I finished, lamely.I looked around again, more carefully this time. There were several shiny black straps connected to other shiny black straps by shiny black straps and metal clips and belt buckles. I picked one up and studied it while Suzanna pointed out its features.“This goes around your waist. These two go around the top of your thighs and are fixed to the waist belt by these two straps, which adjust to suit the length you need. These two smaller straps go around your wrists and are fixed to your thigh straps with these shorter fixings. They all have special names, but we can skip all that stuff. I want to use them not take a test on them.”She held it all up and looked at me meaningfully.“OK,” I said. “It looks fun. Is there a safe word?”We both giggled.“How about ‘red pickle’?” she suggested.“Red pickle? Why red pickle, for goodness sake! What about ‘stop’?” I countered.“Well, sometimes people use the word ‘stop’ when they don’t actually mean it, like one person is tickling another and they are shouting ‘stop, stop, stop!’ but actually they are fine. It’s what you shout when you are being tickled, apparently. And red pickle is the default safe word for this sort of occasion.”“OK, red pickle it is,” I decided.“Would you like to go first? Can I undress you and help you into these straps?”I nodded and made myself available to her. She reached istanbul travestileri towards me and began undoing the top few buttons on the white shirt I was wearing over a skirt that I thought was daringly mini. She helped me pull the shirt over my head and she laid it neatly on a chair. She found the zip on my skirt and tugged it down, kneeling down herself to slide it down my legs. I stepped out of it and she picked it up and put it on the shirt. Still kneeling, she pulled my knickers down which joined the skirt on the chair. Clad only in my bra, and with another woman with her face only inches from my freshly-shaved pubic area, I began to feel good. Especially as Suzanna stared at my lady parts for a tick, took her glasses off and stared at them again.She found the waistband and placed it around my waist and did it up. She found the thigh straps and did them up just at the top of my legs where they couldn’t slide up any higher. Then she joined each thigh strap to the belt. So far, so good. She stood up, reached behind me and undid my bra strap. My breasts flopped out of their cups and she slid my bra off my arms and onto the chair. Next, she fixed the small straps to each of my wrists and strapped those to the thigh straps.I was still standing up. I could walk around if I wanted to, my legs weren’t restricted in any way. However, my arms were strapped to my thighs with a length of a bit less than a foot or so. I couldn’t pull them further away than this distance, nor could I touch the thigh straps because the wrist straps consisted of metalwork which didn’t compress. All of a sudden I wanted to scratch my nose.Without asking me if she could and without even telling me she was going to, Suzanna put one of her hands on my pussy and squeezed it. Involuntarily I tried to move my hands to touch her hair as a response. I couldn’t move my hands more than a few inches, and then only in a semi-circle around my thighs. She squeezed my breasts in her hands and played with them, gently rotating them, pushing them around on my chest, pulling them apart almost under my arms then squashing them together to make a rather pleasing cleavage.I guessed this was the tiny bit of dominance that she’d talked about earlier, where she didn’t ask me if I wanted to be touched, poked, prodded or mauled, she just went ahead and did it. I could always shout ‘yellow ketchup’ or whatever the strange safe words she’d decided on were.She played with my parts quite firmly to begin with and got a little more firm later on.She knelt down again, turned me around so I was facing away from her and began playing with my bottom. She separated my buttocks and ran her finger over my anus and vagina. Again I automatically tried to do something with my hands but found I couldn’t do anything except make small half-circles in the air either side of my thighs. My body began to tingle with excitement and my ‘other hole’ began to spasm, partly because of what she was doing to me but mostly because I was unable to touch her or even scratch my nose. Her finger pushed quite strongly up into my vagina. The increasing firmness was actually travesti istanbul quite a turn-on. She tweaked my other hole, pushing the tip of a finger up into up. It made me squirm so she did it again causing me to squirm again, then she tactfully wiped her finger on a wet wipe.She directed me towards her bed so I laid down on my back, trying and failing to wriggle myself into a better position than the one I’d landed in. Still kneeling, she made movements on the breast nearest her that I knew she was making but which I could barely feel. Now delicate as a feather instead of firm, her fingertips skeetered on my skin, nipple and areola, then burrowed their way underneath my boob which had slid to the side of my chest nearer her, then back to my nipple again in a circle of gradually but relentlessly increasing sensitivity.My other breast began to look for attention but failed to get it. It got itchier and itchier as its sister got all the fun.“Can you do my other breast?” I asked.“In a minute, in a minute,” she replied, smiling at me.She concentrated on the nearer breast which lapped up all the attention it was getting. My nipple popped into hardness, while Suzanna’s finger teased it still further.“Please, Suzanna!” I begged, sensing now how things were going to go – and rather looking forward to it.She shook her head, her ginger hair flopping to one side just long enough for me to see the remains of the bruise around her right eye. In response, my other breast began to turn blue then black before it shrivelled up completely like an oak leaf in autumn. Then it detached itself from my chest, plopped onto the floor and rolled under the bed. Not really, of course, but that’s just what it felt like until Suzanna’s fingers started work on it and all of a sudden it was freed from its terrible torment and joined its sister by popping its nipple out too.She turned to the table where there were more straps and things. She picked two more straps then undid my wrists. I scratched my nose furiously before she fixed both of my wrists to the bedhead. Now my hands and arms were above my head and I was suddenly asking myself when I last shaved my armpits which were visible for all to see, or at least Suzanna.“Don’t worry, I like a bit of hair!” she laughed.OK, too long ago, then. My breasts changed shape on my chest because of my arms being held up above my head. Suzanna’s fingers wandered towards my armpits while my boobs wobbled gratifyingly. I tried to bring my arms down to close up my armpits, but of course, that wasn’t going to happen. And she was right, people do shout ‘stop, stop, stop!’ when they are being tickled. She tickled me for a few seconds while I was laughing hysterically, writhing on her bed and trying to put my elbows to my sides. She relented eventually.By now my pussy had woken up to what was going on and I could feel some wetness beginning to seep out from between my lips. But this wasn’t the end. Two more straps came off the Straps Of Pain Table (as I was beginning to call it) and within a few seconds, I had ankle straps on which held my legs apart on Suzanna’s bed. My pubic area began to feel exposed to the public. Of course, there was no public to expose it to. If I really tried, I could reduce the amount of exposure I was feeling by bringing my knees together as far as I was able (not much) and twisting my body slightly (again, not much).
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