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For years he felt psychoemotionally handcuffed while she administered kickpuppy punishments. He liked the way she responded in kind to his flirtatious advances. It was a stroking game they played with each other. Later she verbally kicked him in the belly or balls when she rebuffed the remark by relating a story about having great sex with her husband. The pain was great.

Today she would use the silver manacles to further capture and punish him. One cuff was tucked inside the waistband of her pleated black tennis skirt and the other hung over her abdomen. It was a stark contrast and was the finishing touch to her improbable outfit. The black bustier was made of chiffon. He could easily make out the darkness of her nipples under it. Her legs were encased in black stockings held in place with garter straps attached to the bustier under her very short skirt. Black spike-heel pumps with ankle straps completed the outfit. The sight of her dressed like that was enough to make his groin ache. He stifled a non-word sound that would have portrayed his feelings.

The other side of their relationship was a psychic connection that unnerved her and was a mystery to him though both knew it was very real. When she was thousands of miles away on the last few days of a two-week vacation in Italy and Spain with her husband he felt a powerful tingling in his soul that meant she was experiencing something intense. It wasn't until several weeks later that he questioned her and she said, "I went like this (turning to her left and down) while we were in the shower and the muscle spasm grabbed me. I was miserable for the whole twelve hours while we flew home." He hadn't missed the plural pronoun 'we' she had used. And he didn't ask her why she had made the movement that had caused the muscle spasm.

Once she was dressed in a powder blue sleeveless sheath with white buttons from bodice to hem when they met at the coffeehouse. It was summer and she was bare legged but he couldn't remember the kind of shoes she wore. It was their third meeting over coffee and he was being cautious. They chatted about this and that and she mentioned her daughter and how the youngster was conflicted between the tenants she was being taught at the Catholic girls school she attended and what she saw at home.

The priests and nuns insisted in a mandatory class that sex was for procreation and not pleasure. The woman/mother sitting across from him related how she and her husband had locked themselves in their bedroom for sex play after dinner. She had a slightly embarrassed little smile on her lips describing how when she opened the door and came out the daughter asked her, "Have fun?' The slim, beautiful woman on the patio of the coffeehouse had said 'yes' to her daughter as the story concluded. Then she looked into the eyes of the tall, intriguing man she was having coffee with. It was the first time she stung him...the first kick to the tail-wagging, 'love-me, love-me' puppy that he was in spite of his many years of life experience. A part of him was silently screaming, "I don't want to hear this shit about how you and your husband have great sex! I want you for myself and you damn well know it!"

The next time wasn't a lot different. They were having coffee at a Starbucks when she slipped into the conversation that the daughter had unexpectedly come back to the house to find her parents clothing strewn about the family room, down the hall and the trail stopped at the parents locked bedroom door. The daughter half kiddingly deplored what she saw but secretly wished she could have the same in her life.

The woman sitting across from him had taken her daughter to a counselor because of her stress and anxiety. The counselor had suggested yoga and regular masturbation as methods of stress relief. Daughter complained to her mother about the suggestion that she masturbate, referencing the church school's teachings on the matter. Mother told daughter to ignore that dictum and admitted to her daughter that she masturbated on a regular basis both alone and with her husband. The daughter sat in numb silence.

They met at the Coffee Plantation on 16th Street at her suggestion. Previously they had met at the Plantation at the Biltmore. He arrived first and ordered. Soon after she entered and with his hands full of coffee cup and a croissant he did his best to hug her when they met in the middle of the floor. She seemed to relish it as much as he did. He found a table outdoors and settled in waiting for this beautiful, mysterious, ethereal, teasing creature to sit across from him. She did. He told her he had wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her from the first moment he saw her. She smiled and said nothing.

Then he walked into it saying he remembered her saying 'we' were in the shower when she hurt her back. She confirmed that she had been involved in soapy sex play with her husband. Out of his mind with desire for her, trying to push away the picture she had painted in his mind, she had managed to kick his puppynuts again. He retreated in pain.

Another time she has sucked him in with a comment about a French film she liked and that it contained one of her favorite fantasies. When he asked what she replied 'being handcuffed and having my panties cut off.' When he asked if she had handcuffs she nodded saying she had found them in her son's room when he moved out.

"Well, you have your husband to do that or maybe you already have," he said. She had slowly nodded her head with a smug little pout on her mouth. His guts boiled and there was a stabbing pain in his groin. He was helplessly and hopelessly at her mercy unable to object to her infernal malevolence. Almost unable to breathe from the pain of her kick his eyes narrowed. He saw her eyes go wide with satisfaction seeing his pain.

The most severe putdown was after they had coffee and were in the parking lot He asked her to cross her wrists so the backs of both hands formed a V. After she did he moved them to his face so that both were in contact with his beard. "I just wanted you to have a hint of what I would feel like on the insides of your thighs." Whatever reaction she had she hid.

The first spoken words at their next meeting was when she slid up to him and said, "My husband didn't shave for two weeks while we were on vacation in Europe so I know the feeling of a beard on the inside of my thighs." He was totally deflated and one-upped.

She called late one afternoon to say that her husband was going to be out of town for several days and she wanted to conduct an 'experience' with him, advancing the idea of locking him in a chastity device for a week and then cooking dinner for him on the Sunday evening her husband would be gone. His heart leapt into his throat and left him gasping for air. He let a few seconds go by trying to gain his composure but knew he could not refuse.

She had come by his place each day to unlock the white plastic chastity tube that contained his cock so he could wash himself and the tube. Then she had him reinstall it and click the small padlock shut. After five days of practice he had become quite proficient. That Friday morning he closed the stainless steel band around his cock and balls, fitted his cock into the plastic tube and slid the ears on the band up through a slot at the top of the tube and closed the small padlock through the holes in the ears.

Thus she knew he had not masturbated or ejaculated for one week when he arrived at her door late on that Sunday afternoon. She was dressed for sex, not for cooking when she answered the door and smiled at him. He followed her to the kitchen watching the flash of bare flesh above the tops of her black stockings and the swinging hem of her tennis skirt. She motioned him to a chair and told him to take off his clothes.

She had resumed work on the Caesar salad at the counter near the sink. She glanced at him several times while he was undressing. When he was completely naked except for the steel and plastic device that held his cock captive she approached him and pulled the handcuffs from her waistband. Pointing her finger at the floor she drew two small circles in the air. He turned away from her and put his hands behind his back knowing she was going to handcuff him. One cuff was warm from being against her belly and the other was cold steel as she clicked them snug around his wrists.

"Tell me what you are feeling inside," she said as she got a short length of chain from a kitchen drawer.

"Anxious I guess would cover it," he responded.

She had am impish smile on her face as she opened the padlock of the chastity device, added the end link of the chain to the shank and relocked it. He could feel the weight of the chain when she let go. "You're becoming more of a captive all the time aren't you," she grinned at him. He caught just a hint of something perilous in her tone. It didn't fit their situation but it was there.

Facing away from him she bent at the waist to get two items from a bottom drawer. It was exquisitely clear she was shaved and pantyless. Her pouty pink lips almost smiled at him from under the black tennis skirt. Still bent over she glanced past her right calf to make sure he was looking at her. He knew what the sleep mask was but wasn't sure about the other item. She liked to use hand signals. Poking her finger at one of the kitchen chairs he knew he was to sit. She moved behind him and fitted the sleep mask into place taking away his sight. He felt something against his lips and heard her say, "Open your mouth." The handball went in his mouth attached to the leather strap by a one-inch lag bolt. She had silenced him. "No more flirtatious remarks from you Buddyboy,' she growled at him. There was an edge in her voice that unnerved him.

"Stand up and I will lead you," she directed. He felt the tug on his genitals even before he stood. He followed her as best he could responding to her none-to-gentle pulls and yanks. He knew he was in a different room...there had been that many steps. When the pulling pressure eased he stopped. "Forward a bit," she directed. After he did he heard the tinkling rattle of the chain and the sharp click of another padlock being closed.

After several seconds of silence she spoke "It's been a busy week taking care of two locked cocks along with my regular work." Awash in bewilderment he became more and more afraid. He felt her presence fade knowing she had left the room.

Sometime later, he wasn't sure how long, her presence rose in the room. Her gait was a prancing stroll as she entered the bedroom, a stem glass of white wine in her hand.

Both men were blindfolded but sensed her presence...both were very much tuned to her aura. She sipped some wine and sat the glass on her vanity. With casual grace she moved the vanity stool to a position that formed the third point of a triangle with the two men chained to the footboard of her bed by their genitals. One was her husband and the other wanted to be her lover.

Finding the tip cutter in her jewelry box she sliced the twisted end off her cigar. In one smooth motion she dropped the cutter in the box and found the lighter that would fire her cigar. Clicking it she took two long drags twirling the light brown panatela putting the smoke into the air in the middle of the three of them. Blue-gray smoke curled upward from the tip as she sensuously dipped her index finger into the wineglass and then painted the length of the panatela with it. She rolled it a quarter of a turn, took a drag and repeated the action three more times

A third of the cigar and half of the wine were gone while she sat silently savoring the sight of her two captives. For those minutes there was just the non-word sounds of pleasure as she sipped and savored the taste and smell of the wine and smoke. A smile broadened across her face as she rose, placed the wineglass on the stool, clamped the cigar lightly in her teeth and moved to one man and then the other removing their blindfolds.

Resuming her position on the stool, she sat with the wineglass in one hand and her cigar in the other. Each time she took a short drag of smoke she would sensuously give the tobacco phallus a third of a turn and flick it with her tongue. Each time she followed that with a sip of wine and then another lick with her wine-wet tongue.

Both men were in a near state of frenzy when she drained the stem glass. Still helpless and bound by their manhood to the foot of her bed they watched her rake the black tennis skirt up out of the way with her left hand and install the still-burning tobacco dildo into her sex. Her right index and middle finger splayed on each side of her slowly swelling clit, she began to squirm and said, "Aaaah." There were more moans and grunts of pleasure. Her eyes oscillated slowly between the faces of the men chained to her bed as the thunderhead of orgasm built. Unconsciously she was flexing her thighs and pushing her heels into the carpet as the tension rose in her.

Both men swelled inside his tube wanting to fill her. Then her gasps turned into one long, mournful shriek as she flicked her burgeoning clit until it became unbearable. She screamed at the space between the two men as gooseflesh bloomed on her thighs and waves of pure pleasure washed through her body.

"Ahwaah,gawd," she proclaimed.

Swooning on the stool she slowly acquired the cigar from her juicy lips and almost staggered to the dressing table where she relit it, again turning it several times to get an even coal burning. The men couldn't move and she had no desire to move from her dreamy state of contentment. Steadying after a couple of minutes she left the room with her wineglass, the cigar clamped lightly between her teeth and her lips closed around it.

Perhaps two minutes later she reappeared, the stemglass refilled. Just a third of the cigar in her hiplips and an empty stem glass remained on the nightstand to her right as she attained her second and more intense climax. Her back pressed against the headboard in the long slanting rays of the late afternoon sun that streamed through the window to bathe her smoldering body in golden light. She gasp, screamed and convulsed as her fingers drove her to unmitigated ecstasy.

After a considerable period of recovery legs uncaringly spread and a body too fatigued to care what she looked like, she slowly regained strength for the final act.

When she felt her strength was sufficient she moved toward the captive man who wanted to be her lover. The footboard pillars were a match to those of the headboard but stood only perhaps three feet high with a flat final that was ten inches square. She settled easily upon it with her legs spread outside his thighs. Her sex slit was mere inches from his captive cock. Her torso vibrated with intensity as she began for the third time to stroke the sides of her clit with spread fingers. She built it slowly knowing there was nothing he could do. Finally she said, 'Ahhhg, Unhh, Ooooooh! to him. Her thighs were warm against his legs. Otherwise she did not touch the man who fascinated her; whom she had fantasized about many times while she was masturbating alone before her morning shower.

After that she slid off the platform and went to her jewelry box and found the key she needed to unlock her husband from the bedpost. Gently she led him by the chain locked to his cock to her vanity stool and whispered that he should sit. Half the time her eyes were fixed on the other man still chained to the bedpost. "For years, "she wailed, "you have teased, flirted and suggested you wanted me." The gag would not allow him to respond verbally. "Again and again I described how fine love and sex were with my husband," she moaned at him. "Have you nothing to say," she hissed at him.

"But you didn't mind ragging me with your fantasies about fucking me while you masturbated at home alone. What a cunt!" he screamed silently but was unable to say.

"Watch this Mister HotRocks," she taunted.

She unlocked the chastity device that held her husband captive and removed it. Her hand was fully around his cock and she was squeezing it slowly. She smiled. A crooked grin crossed her face. "See, he's getting hard 'cause he knows he's gonna get sucked and fucked."

"And you're not!" she taunted.

That was the last thing she said before she took her husband's hardening cock in her mouth and worked her taught lips over it until it was a stiff throbbing rod of hot marble ready to slam into her. She stood, smiled and then shuffle walked up his yearning thighs until she was just above his phallus. She gasped as she settled on it and began the undulating pumping that would cause him to roar at her through his gag. "How do you like watching me fuck my husband," she chided. Squalling with joy she slammed her hips down onto him literally pounding him to orgasm. When she was sure he had spent every drop of his seed in her she kissed him deeply, open-mouthed and with a twisting motion that bound them tightly together.

Later she unlocked her wannabe lover from her bedpost and led him to the kitchen directing him to get dressed. She waited impatiently as her husband's cum trickled down the insides of her thighs. She was anxious to return to him so he could tongue-fuck her until she was limp.

Carrying a disposable plastic snap-top container she returned from the freezer. "It will thaw in a few hours," she breathed as she placed the cold container in his hands. The key to your locked cock is frozen in the center of this." She put it in his hands. "Now get out of my house. I never want to see or hear from you again."
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