Threesome

A BDSM Story by Harley Grant

Chapter 1: BDSM Club

She was a powerful woman, and powerfully beautiful.  Body, mind and spirit were in synch.  Sharp, classically beautiful features, long dark hair, firm, toned, tall body.  Shapely arms, so rare in even good-looking women, flat stomach and long legs that lightly rippled with muscles as she walked on her high heels.

She was assertive, but not rude, quick to the point, but not one to run over you, unless you were talking trash.  I'd met her at the local BDSM club.  I had studied her for a few minutes, my eyes drawn to her above all the other dominants.  She was no closet submissive playing the dominant role for the money.  Nor was she just another self-indulgent woman who found playing a dominant a convent way of being a bitch and getting complements for it.  Her bearing was both assured and calm.

I watched her for some time, watched the subs come up and either slob their subservience all over her, or try to tell her how important they were and how lucky she’d be to have such a good sub.  She turned them all down flat.  When I approached her, she looked at me frankly.  No surprise in her eyes.  I revised my approach.  Normally, its good to check things out by asking, "are you a dominant?"  That was a really stupid question in this case.  Instead I said, "Hello, Mistress, may I talk with you and see if we're compatible for some play."  She paused in her answer for just one beat as she continued to look intently at me.  Then she said, "Yes, I think we are." 

I knew what had happened.  I had paid her a compliment by not acting like I couldn't tell who she was.  She had paid me a compliment by noticing that I’d done that.  Her answer meant she had sized me up, my direct approach, and noticed that I was smart enough to go for quality.  Now it was up to me not to screw up.  "I'll check out a room from the dungeon master.  Is there one you’d prefer?"  The club had rooms for cross-dressing, a traditional dungeon, and a medical room. 

"I doubt it matters," she said, "you know that for what we'll do, it doesn't depend on equipment." 

"Agreed."  I said, slightly bowing my head.  I went to find the dungeon master.  The traditional dungeon was available, and I got permission to use it.  I turned to walk back to her, saw that she was eyeing me from across the room, she looked a question at me.  More indication she was for real.  How often had I done this before and by the time one minute had gone by, the alleged mistress was already flirting with someone else and had forgotten the commitment she’d made to time with me?

I nodded my head and pointed in the direction of the dungeon.  I did that just to give her the news, I didn’t expect a Mistress would come to me.  I continued to go over to her so I could make a formal, polite invitation, but before I got halfway there, I saw her slip smoothly off the bar stool, and walk, no stride, towards the dungeon, waving me to follow.

Once inside, she shut and latched the door behind us.  I turned and knelt on the floor, my head down.

"You seem so trusting, you don't even know my name," she said, a faint mocking tone in her voice.

"I trust what I see, Mistress." 

She walked around behind me and put her leather-gloved hand on my hair.  She clenched her hand, gripping me by the hair.  "I think your submission will mean something," she said.

I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes, could she be someone who would recognize that the submission of an accomplished person would mean more than the sniveling of an idiot.  I had had relationships, I dated, I could look confident and appealing, I had a job.  I wasn't going to submit to just anyone.

She had walked to the other side of the dungeon.  Over her shoulder she said, "Remove your clothes, glasses and all jewelry.  Everything.  Put it in the box by the door.  Don't look at me."

I stood but did not turn to her.  I walked to the door unbuttoning my shirt.  Deliberately, but not slowly, I removed my clothing and placed it in the box.  She had not asked me to, but when I was done, I closed the lid down.  There was a padlock there, but I didn't know where the key was, or if she had it, so I left the box unlocked.

"Put your hands behind your back and walk backwards slowly."  I complied, until I felt her hand against my back.  Quickly I felt some rope being wrapped around my wrists, securing them.  How would she handle this?  I was reassured by that fact that she made the rope snug but not painfully tight.  Then, she went on to tie my thumbs together, a touch many miss.  Again, the rope was snug, but not tight enough to cut off the circulation.  A third rope was worked around my elbows.  Slowly she tightened this, pulling my elbows together.  With the ends of the rope, she took a turn or two around my chest, pulling my arms tightly against my back.  She was good, she'd done a thorough tie.

I felt her walking away and sitting in one of the plush chairs at the edge of the dungeon. 

"Turn around and come here."

I did.  She had partially undressed, shedding her long, soft coat.  She'd taken off her silk blouse and short skirt as well.  What was left was leather.  A leather bikini, studded with silver.  That, and knee high, leather boots with a spike heel.  I looked frankly at her body as I walked to her. 

"Sit down here," she said, indicating another chair.  I complied.  "What's your safe word?"

"Red" I said. 

"And what's your view of things at the moment?"

"Green," I said with a smile.

She laughed. 

"Since I'm running things, I'll give you a choice. Based on what you say, I'll ask more questions for specifics.  Here's your choice: bondage, discipline, or service."

"Bondage, this time," I said.

She nodded.  "Intense, sensual, sexual, psychological?"

"Intense, leading to intense sensuality, resulting in intense sex."

"Good psychology," she said with a smile.  "Health issues, including your cock?"

"None related to bondage or to this space."

She paused a moment, looking into my eyes.  "Get up, walk over to that suspension hook and lie down on the floor on your stomach."

I complied.  Would she hoist me up?  I'd find out.

I heard her heels come across the floor to me.  Soon I could sense her kneeling behind me.  I felt another rope being draped over me, soon it was being tied around my ankles.  In a moment my ankles were as firmly tied together as my hands.  I heard her walk away.  When she came back, she started buckling a leather restraint around one leg, just above the knee.  But there was something attached to it.  Soon I realized it was a spreader bar, and she forced my legs apart to attach the other cuff to my other leg.  This was interesting.  My legs were in the form of a square, knees apart, ankles held together.

"Try to roll over."  I tried, but it actually is quite tough from that position when you can't use your hands.  Eventually, I squirmed on my side.  I was helpless on the floor, legs spread, looking up at my goddess.  She had a knowing smirk on her face.  She retrieved another two thin ropes from the store on the side of the room.  She sat down in front of my legs, put one of her legs through the opening, pushing against the spreader bar.  Her other booted foot was inches from my neck.  It was an erotic feeling to be in that spot.  She leather clad hand reached out and caressed my cock, which was already quite hard.

"So big," she cooed at me.  "We'll have to get it under control."  She took one rope and worked it under my waist, bringing it around to the front.  She pulled it firm and tied it.  I had a belt of rope around my waist.  I had an idea what was coming.  She began using the other rope to expertly tie my cock.  Beginning at the root, she took loops around the balls, and knotted it off.  Then she pulled a line between them separating the balls.  Next she started wrapping the shaft, tying it snugly.  With the remaining few inches she pulled my bound cock upward, and tied it to the rope around my waist.  Now my cock was pointing straight up towards my face, and it got harder, pushing against the bounds.  I began to writhe on the floor, gently moaning. 

She stood, hands on hips and looked at me, totally immobile on the floor.  "I'd make you roll over here, but you can't do it."  She knelt, and undid the spreader bar.  With her foot, she hooked my leg, and started rolling me over, a maneuver completed by another boot pushing my side.  I was on my stomach, laying on top of my cock.  In that position, the pressure isn’t erotic.  I was effectively prevented from masturbating, a very frustrating situation.  I was dependent on her permission to do so.

She had gotten yet another rope.  This went around my ankle rope and she started pulling my legs into a hog tie.  She left it a loose tie, securing the other end to my wrist rope.  Then she walked around to my head, and reached down with her hands, pulled me across the floor an inch or two.  What was that about?  Then I remembered the suspension hook above me.  She walked to the wall, and I knew that was it.  Slowly she let down the hook till it rested on my back.  Returning, she hooked it to the rope connecting my wrists and ankles, and went back to the wall.  I heard a wheel turning and the slack started coming out of my hog tie.  I began to arch my back as I was being pulled up by the hook.  I couldn't take much more of this, if she really put on the pressure, I'd be using my safe word in seconds.  But she stopped with just a bit of pressure.

Again, she walked away from me, was there even more to come?  What was left.  I couldn't move at all.  She returned with a posture collar and a blindfold.  Both went in their expected place.  The collar restricted me, but also gave my neck some support. 

She tapped the taut, vertical rope.  I trembled, not just with the physical strain either.  She did it again, and I jumped.  She let the hook down just an inch, and I twisted, stretching my muscles.  She began going from rope to rope, pulling here, twitching there.  There is a lot to be said for gentle and careful torture like this.  I yielded into the feelings, bucking, writhing, moaning.  It’s not about hitting hard, its about intense feelings.  This allowed me to yield to the sensations and it was becoming very intense.  She was good, very good.

Suddenly I realized she’d stopped, a feeling both frustrating and welcome.  "Oh, dear," she said,  "I need to go to the bathroom."  For a moment I considered saying, "go ahead" or something, but we hadn't prepared the space for water sports.  I heard her go to the far wall, and the sound of the door latch being undone.  She was leaving me here, hog-tied, cock tied, partially suspended, and blindfolded.  She walked out and I heard the door slam, leaving me alone in the darkness.

I enjoy the abandonment.  I have time to savor every inch of my body, to contemplate what would happen if she doesn't come back.  I know she will, it's part of the trust, but when will she come back?  Will it be soon, or just a minute after I give up?  Indeed I want it to be just one minute after I give up, that feeling of truly being lost, of being in over your head, there is nothing like it.  At work, I sometimes have problems that are tough to solve, but I’m never going to be in real trouble, I’m too good at my job and we have a team that works together.  As a result my feelings have become deadened somewhat.  That moment when I feel helpless is a wonderfully intense reminder that I am real.

She actually was gone just a few minutes, but it feels like hours when you’re so tied up.  When she returned, she whacked the rope going up to the suspension hook and I jumped.

"Golly," she said with mock irritation, "you’re having all the fun down there, fantasizing away, and I have nothing to do at all.  This isn't right.  What do you think I should do?"

"Masturbate," I grunted.

"I was hoping you'd say that.”  She paused.  “But this floor isn’t clean enough for what we need to do, and someone else is going to come pounding on the door all too soon.”  Again a pause, weighing the invitation she was thinking of giving.  We didn’t know each other’s situation, who had the dungeon space, or the equipment, or who would take the risk.

I said, “I could follow you home.  I have some play toys in the car, but no real space at home.”

She tapped my foot, again causing me to rock slightly.  The change of pressure on my cock was wonderful, unexpected, and impossible to defend against.  I moaned again.  She knelt down in front of me, I could smell the leather of her boots.  She placed a gloved hand lightly on my head.

“I’m not married, nor do I want to be.  I play with several people.  I prefer people I can play with more than once.  My name is Judith.”

“I’m Mike, slave name Cunt, Mistress.  I’m single, looking for a small group of people to play with, perhaps a threesome or so.”  I paused for breath, aware that her hand had gripped a little tighter on my head when I had said “threesome.”  I decided to risk a question, but that’s the slave’s job.  “You have someone else at your place?  A woman?”

She laughed.  Got up, went to the control for the hook and began to release me from bondage.  “We’ll go to my place.”

When I was free, rubbing my arms, standing, I wasn’t sure how she’d want to play this next step, was it going to be part of the scene, could she talk to me as an equal out of play time, or would she prove insecure, like all the rest.  I looked at her.

“Get dressed, we’ll leave together.  I don’t demand submission out of play time, I only hope for the man to be a gentleman.”  I nodded, inclining my head, and smiled.  She smiled back at me, and I saw again how much character her face revealed.  I didn’t want to blow this.   I dressed with quick, competent motions.  I helped her on with her coat, and went to open the door for her.  Not because I had to, or because it had been demanded, just because I wanted to.

[ On to Chapter 2 ]