"Do you have anything special planned for this evening?"
"Oh yes," she said. His spirits sank, although he told himself repeatedly that the last thing he wanted was to spend another evening tied to her bed in the unbearable frustration of the previous night.
"Oh yes," she repeated. "I have something special planned. I'll see you in about half an hour, shall I?"
"I have a lot to finish here," he told her, wondering whether he was trying to convince her or to convince himself.
"Don't be too long," she said. "Or I'll start without you."
She turned and was gone before he could think of an appropriate reply.
He started to work through a pile of papers on his desk, although his mind was not on it. It was less than ten minutes after she had left that he was in his car and heading towards her house.
The front door was half open when he arrived.
"Hello?" he called.
"Shut the door, take your shoes off and come up," came her voice from the bedroom.
She had already changed into the same leather outfit she had worn on the previous evening.
"Hello," she said. "Come in. I found these."
She held up a pair of fluffy handcuffs.
"Brian won't wear them, of course. I thought he might have thrown them away. I just found them in the back of a drawer. You'll wear them, won't you?"
"I suppose so," he agreed. "If you really want me to."
She nodded. "Of course I do," she assured him. "It would make me very excited. Hurry up. Just take off your shirt and put your hands behind your back."
"You're not going to leave me all frustrated like last night?" he asked her. "I don't think I could stand that again."
"I wasn't planning on tying you to the bed," she told him. "I might change my mind, of course, but not for the moment anyway. This won't be anything like last night, I promise."
"All right," he agreed. "You just want me to take my shirt off?"
She held up the handcuffs, dangling them from one hand. "Hurry up," she said. "I can't wait to have you cuffed!"
"I'm surprised you aren't wearing a policewoman's outfit," he grinned as he removed his shirt.
"I'm not a strip-o-gram," she replied a little haughtily. "So get that idea right out of your head before we go any further."
"Sorry," he apologised. "I just thought you said you enjoyed dressing up."
"You didn't think. That's your problem," she told him as she went behind him with the handcuffs. "Wrists together. Perfect."
She snapped the cuffs around his wrists and tightened them.
"I hope you have the keys," he said suddenly, realising that under the fluffy covers the handcuffs were made of strong steel and quite unbreakable.
"Oh. I hadn't thought of that." She looked worried. "They were open. The keys weren't with them. I didn't think…"
"You are joking," he said hopefully. "You don't really mean that…"
She nodded, still looking worried. "I'm sure the keys are around here somewhere," she said. "I wonder what they look like? I never really took much notice when I bought them. I suppose we could cut them off if we have to?"
"Just find them!" he demanded in panic.
"I'm sure I will," she reassured him. "It won't take long when I start looking. We'll do it a little later. There's no rush. I'm really rather keen to get started."
"No! Find them now. You can't risk… Oh. Oh yes!"
She had slid one hand over the front of his trousers and she was massaging the growing bulge.
"You were saying?" she asked innocently.
"Nothing. Only… Oh. Oh! OH!"
She stopped. "Let's take these off," she said, and started to undo his belt and trousers. In no more than a few seconds she had removed both his trousers and his underpants.
"Please…" he begged. "Don't stop what you were doing."
"Why not?" she asked. "Were you enjoying it?"
"You know I was enjoying it," he moaned. "Please do it again."
He moved towards her without even meaning to do it, his hips forward.
"Don't be disgusting," she said, stepping back away from him. "I think we'll make you a little less mobile."
From the shelf in the wardrobe she took down one of the same cords she had used to tie him to the bed. She knelt at his feet and looped one end around one of his ankles, knotting it and pulling it tight. She did the same with the other end to his other ankle. With not much more than a few inches of cord between his two ankles, he was effectively hobbled. He could only walk by taking extremely small steps, not much more than shuffling forward or back.
"You're a very bad boy," she said as she stood up.
"You told me that last time," he said as he tested the cord to see how much he could move.
"That was different," she told him. "Last time you only looked at me in the mirror, and that was partly my fault. This time, quite apart from thrusting yourself at me just now in the most disgusting way, you've been leering at me all day at work."
"I haven't," he protested.
"I saw you," she accused him. "It was obvious. I'm sure everyone else in the office saw it too. Now you're arguing with me, and that on its own deserves a punishment."
He started to protest, but saw it was useless.
"All right," he said wearily. "I suppose I'm in for a frustrating evening again."
"What you really need is a good spanking," she told him.
He shuffled backwards. "You sound too much like Angela," he complained.
She laughed. "You said that Angela doesn't really spank her boyfriends."
"I said she's never spanked me," he told her.
She went on, "I'm not going to bend you over and spank your backside. Not at the moment anyway."
"What then?"
A moment later he found out, and yelped in pain as she slapped his hardness. He backed away as fast as he was able to move. She followed him, laughing at his hopeless efforts to stay away from her as she aimed slap after slap at him and he squealed continuously in protest.
"Come here," she ordered, grabbing hold of his hardness and pulling him towards her. "If you try to resist me it will be far worse."
Holding on tightly to him, she reached down with her other hand and slapped upwards at his testicles.
"Stop that noise," she warned him, slapping him several times more in the same place and then changing hands and positions so that one hand now held his testicles. She carried on slapping his hardness, but now she squeezed with her other hand, gripping more firmly each time he tried to pull away. His squeals of pain rose both in pitch and volume.
"Stop! Stop! Stop! For goodness sake, please stop!"
"I thought you enjoyed at bit of attention?" she said calmly, pausing for a moment. "Would you prefer to be suffering from frustration like you were last night?"
"Yes! Yes! Anything. Just please stop doing that."
"Anything? Do you mean that?" As she spoke, she squeezed and slapped at the same time."
"Aaagh! Yes! Anything!"
She stopped, but did not let go. He was panting and shaking.
"I can see why Brian didn't want you to tie him up," he gasped.
"That's not a very nice thing to say," she told him warningly. "I know you don't really mean it. You're enjoying what I do to you. You're still very excited."
"I'm not enjoying it. It fucking well hurts."
"Watch your language," she said sharply. "Or I'll have to punish you for that as well."
She increased the pressure on his testicles a little, watching his face and without squeezing hard.
"Sorry. I'm really sorry. Please, I'm really sorry," he babbled in panic.
She relaxed her grip again. "Good," she said. "Now perhaps we can find out just how sorry you are. Didn't you just tell me you would do anything for me if I stopped what I was doing?"
"What do you want me to do?" he asked suspiciously. This was so different from her treatment of him on the previous night. Then, she had been so gentle with him, although her delight at his frustration was obvious. Now, it seemed, she was taking a great delight in causing him pain. He would never have imagined that this small, quiet woman could have such a sadistic streak in her.
"Don't sound so nervous," she told him. "You didn't have to come here tonight. Did you think I might go further than last night? Was that what made you come here?"
Her question was difficult to answer. Why had he come here? There was no doubt that he found being tied to her bed by her incredibly exciting, and the touch of her fingers on him for hour after hour had taken him far beyond anything he had ever experienced before. Of course he wanted to make love to her. She had hinted that was what she would do, or at least that she would do what she did on the previous evening and, most importantly to him, continue it instead of stopping each time he came close to orgasm.
He could not put any of that into words. It would sound silly, or just annoy her. 'I came here because I want to make love to you'.
She seemed to read his thoughts. "I'm not going to sleep with you," she said. "So you can get that idea right out of your head."
"No. No, of course you're not," he said as though he had never even considered it as a possibility.
"So why did you come here?" she asked again.
"You're very nice," he said lamely.
She raised her eyebrows and said nothing, obviously waiting for him to say more.
"That's a wonderful outfit," he said, "I hoped you would wear it again tonight."
"That's it?" she asked.
"Just about," he agreed.
"You didn't come here because you wanted to be tied to my bed again?"
"Not really." He knew he sounded less than certain.
"You came here because I'm 'nice' and because you have a thing about my leather gear?"
"Something like that," he admitted.
"Rubbish!"
She put one hand on one hip, the other still clasped around his testicles. He was afraid she would squeeze again. Without any conscious intention of doing it, his hardness twitched. She saw it.
"You came here because you have a thing about women dominating you!" she told him. "You're the complete opposite of Brian."
He was not going to argue about whether or not he was the complete opposite of Brian. He was not prepared to admit he liked women to dominate him, but there was no doubt that he found it highly arousing to have a woman dressed in leather controlling him with her hand holding his testicles. His hardness twitched again.
"I do like your leather outfit," he said weakly.
"It would be too small for you," she said.
"No, I didn't mean I want to wear it," he said hastily, before he saw she was not serious. His hardness twitched several times.
"Oh, so you do want to wear my clothes?" she asked, watching the movements of his manhood, fascinated. "I'm sure I can find something you could squeeze into."
"No I don't want to wear your clothes," he protested. "I really don't. I'm sure none of them would fit anyway."
"That says differently," she pointed out, indicating his twitching hardness. "I do know what that means. I never really noticed it with Brian. It's perfect with you: I can tell exactly what excites you just by talking about it and watching. I wonder whether it would go down altogether if I talked about something you really didn't like at all?"
He made no reply. She let go of him and stepped back.
"The problem is," she said thoughtfully, "That I'll have to find the keys to those handcuffs if I want to put some of my clothes on you, and I really can't be bothered just yet. Perhaps next time."
He felt a moment's relief, then realised she had once again mentioned 'next time'.
"I really don't think we ought to go on doing things like this," he said. "I won't be round tomorrow. We'll make this the last time. I think that would be best."
"Really?" she said, looking surprised. "But there's so much that excites you. Just look at you. You can't tell me you're not enjoying this, and I'm certainly finding it absolutely fascinating. I've never had the opportunity to experiment with a man who finds it all so arousing. Perhaps I should concentrate a little more on what you enjoy the most."
She reached forward and clasped her fingers around his hardness, rubbing gently backward and forward. He groaned in frustration and pleasure.
"I know," she said, letting go suddenly. "It's my leather clothes that turn you on the most, isn't it?"
"I suppose..." he mumbled in confusion. "They're very nice when you're wearing them."
She laughed, clearly delighted. "So it's me and the leather," she said, clapping her hands. "Perfect. Come here."
She threw herself onto the bed and sat near the top of it with her legs apart.
"Come on," she encouraged him. "What are you waiting for?"
With some difficulty he managed to climb onto the bed and knelt in front of her.
"Not like that!" she said, and pulled his head down between her outstretched legs until his face pressed against the tight leather below her waist. "How's that?" she asked. "Does it feel nice?"
He would have answered, but the leather pressed over his mouth and her hands were around the back of his head holding him tightly against her. She took his silence to be agreement, and decided that it would be more comfortable if she put her legs over his shoulders.
With her leather-clad thighs gripping the sides of his head and her hands pulling him tightly against her, she seemed to have no idea that she was making it extremely difficult for him to breathe. She flexed her muscles as she squeezed him to her, quite surprised at how pleasant the sensation was even through the leather of her trousers. When she felt him move, struggling to find some air, it only occurred to her that perhaps he was trying to excite her, and the movements of his mouth seemed to confirm the suspicion.
She held him more tightly still, crossing her ankles behind his head to give herself more leverage to keep him exactly where she wanted him, and unable to resist the impulse to make small thrusting movements with her hips. Her hands clasped and pulled, her fingers entwined in the hair on the back of his head. Her hips began to move faster and with more force, and now there were the beginnings of that fluttering deep inside her she knew so well yet rarely experienced.
His body was straining and pulling convulsively when finally she let him go. She was flushed and breathing heavily, so close to shuddering ecstasy but now knowing she would never quite find it in that position in that way and through those trousers.
He too was flushed red and dizzy, unable to do more than gasp weakly and to lie, exhausted, in front of her.
"You nearly killed me." His voice was no more than a whisper.
"Did I? Sorry. What's the matter?"
"I couldn't breathe," he gasped.
"Oh." It was news to her. "Sorry. I didn't think."
As she said it, she felt a sudden thrill go through her. It was unexpected, and unlooked for, and it took her closer to a climax than all the pressing and pushing against her had done. She gazed at the gasping man with his head between her now outstretched legs, and wondered if he had noticed. She wished she had known what it was doing to him when she held and squeezed him. That knowledge might have been, she now knew, all she needed.
"Lie on your back," she told him.
"Why?" he asked.
"Just do it."
He turned over awkwardly, lying uncomfortably with his hands cuffed underneath him behind his back.
She considered what she wanted to do next. It was too late to try and recapture those moments of near ecstasy, not without approaching it from a completely different direction that would almost certainly involve removing the leather clothes that were undoubtedly making him aroused. She too found them exciting. They gave her an odd feeling of power, of strength, of control, and their tightness, the way they moulded to the shape of her body, added to that power. The feelings they created were, however, at the expense of a definite loss of physical sensation. They were a barrier between her and the outside world, and in particular a barrier between her body and his. She could not have it both ways.
It was all about power, she decided. It was the excitement of controlling a man that had started all of this, and that was, for the moment at least, her primary objective. Above all, she needed to make sure he would return for more. There was so much she wanted to do, and so many areas she wanted to explore to see whether she wanted to do them or not.
She pushed herself up and forward onto her knees, balancing herself with her hands on his chest, right over his upturned face and looking down his body to that rigid manhood pointing straight at her. It surprised her somewhat that even now, even after she had nearly suffocated him and left him gasping for breath, still he maintained that remarkable stiffness and was undoubtedly becoming more and more frustrated as the evening went on.
She glanced at the clock in the corner of the room. There was not too much time. All too soon she would have to send him away, and all too soon Brian would return tired and hungry. She wondered whether she could leap on him as she had done when he returned just after midnight on the previous night. He would never allow her to control him, but without any doubt the physical pleasures he gave her were very special, and not something she had ever received from any other man.
She sat back, feeling her excitement rise once again when Matt complained as her leather covered buttocks descended onto his face. She was careful not to smother him this time, although the knowledge that she could by shifting her position just a fraction sent a tingling thrill through her. She reached forward, and took his rigid manhood in her hands.
It took less than a minute, and she did not stop. Her fingers forced a climactic explosion from him without the slightest difficulty, and kept rubbing and pressing until she felt the hardness start to wilt. And then, with a delicious feeling of being totally wicked, she could not resist the temptation to move her position a little and block his breathing completely, and at the same time she grasped his testicles and squeezed hard.
She had no problem in finding the keys to the handcuffs just before she helped him dress rapidly, and she bundled him out of the front door only a few minutes before Brian was due to return.
