Bed Spread

He opened a drawer by the bed, took out a key and unlocked one of the handcuff rings long enough to slip my arm out of the clinging nylon. I didn’t struggle or try to escape, I let myself be positioned like a shop window dummy as Chris secured me again, and then loosened my other wrist to finish the job. Very soon I was chained at both wrists again and with nothing on except the whore’s drawers and the pair of stockings I’d been made to wear.

Both men were staring at my exposed tits now, Phil through the viewfinder of his camera as he moved closer and Chris with his fingers held open above them. But that wasn’t for long at all, just a moment of anticipation before he took me in both hands and began kneading the soft flesh.

“That’s what I call a nice pair, he gloated. “What do you reckon, Phil, are we getting some good shots here?”

“Now that you mention it, no. She’s still too tensed up. You need to get her laughing.”

“What do you want me to do — pull a funny face?”

“You’ve already got one. No, just tickle the bottom of he feet — that always works.”

“No, don’t!” I squealed. I hate having that done to me. But it seemed like a useless protest. Chris got off the bed and lifted up one of my legs.

“What’s the matter, Tami, don’t you like being tickled?”

“No, it drives me mad!”

He ran his fingertips along the sole of my raised foot. “OK, Cinderella, let’s see a smile from you then, if you don’t want one forced out of you.”

So I smiled, and then I asked: “Why don’t you take my panties off instead?”

“Well, as opposed to trying to fuck you while you’re still wearing them, that seems like a good idea.”

He reached down to touch me between the legs and I gave a little gasp of pleasure.

“Quite sure you don’t want these on anymore?”

“No … I don’t want them,” I told him.

“Just the sort of girl I like to meet — one that’s not underwear retentive.”

He caught hold of the panties’ waistband, then pulled them down from where they had been to around my thighs. It wasn’t the first time a man had done that for me, but it was sure the first time it had happened while I was locked to the bed, and by God, it was exciting.

“Do you do this to all your girl friends?” I asked Chris. “Chain them up before you make love to them?”

“I don’t make love to friends of any kind. I don’t have friends. What I do is to fuck girls. Find them, feel them, fuck them and forget them — that’s my motto. Especially the ones who are so dumb they don’t even know when they’re supporting a bunch of losers.”

“No wonder you like wearing a mask, you bandit.”

“Well, it’s more than you’ll soon be wearing, cunt. Open wide again and show off your pussy.”

I didn’t know how I felt. Partly excited at the thought of being photographed in the raw for anybody who saw the pixs to ogle, partly ashamed at having Chris’s hand stroking my tits and snatch like I was some kind of a slave girl. But at least that wasn’t something I needed to worry about because there was nothing at all I could do about it. And when a set of fingertips ran up and down my clit as though it was a piano key I had no doubt at all about how much I enjoyed it.

“Looks like there’s a need here for some good vibrations,” Chris commented. “How about it, Phil?”

“Help yourself from the drawer,” Phil answered. “I think you’ll need the large economy size.”

My lover/rapist laughed and opened the drawer, then took out a vibrator which he fooled around with, holding it up and looking along it as if he was checking out a billiard cue.

“Yep, seems straight. Nothing worse than a bent shafter, it makes the ladies all twisted and bitter. Mind you, this one must be about due for its hundred cunt service. That right, Phil?”

“It’s certainly been in plenty of tight corners, that’s for sure.”

Both of them grinned at each other, and then Chris bent over me. But I was surprised to find him undoing the cuffs instead of using the vibrator.

“You’re letting me go?” I asked.

“You’re going nowhere. I just want everybody who sees these shots to know that you wanted this thing used on you.”

Then he did pick up the device and begin to explore between my opened thighs with it. He was right, I didn’t want him to stop, but it was still humiliating to see Phil coming closer and closer with the camera.

“Smile, please, Tami.”

I covered my face with my hand in embarrassment and squealed. Maybe the squeal was outrage in being photographed with a love machine being pushed up my snatch, or perhaps it was because of how far Chris had pushed it.

“No point in being shy now,” Phil said. “Chris, put her down on the other end of the bed where the light is better.”

Chris made me get up and move around as Phil wanted. My legs were trembling but not because I really wanted to walk away from this scene on them.

“That’s better,” Phil commented as Chris began stroking me with the vibrator again. “She’s starting to look as if she’s enjoying it.”

“She’s thinking about the fucking I’m going to give her, hey, Tami?”

Yes, I was, but not as much as I was thinking of what a good job he was doing in sliding that tingling tip around my eager cunt.

“Come on, Tami, let’s see a smile”, Phil urged me again. “Think about the first really good sex you ever had.”

“Yeah, and then tell us about it,” Chris said.

I couldn’t help grinning like a fool at the memory. “I was at high school and my boyfriend was desperate for me to bring my field hockey uniform on a date and change into it. He said that every time he’d seen me play in the school team it turned him on. There was nobody at his house that day so we went there and I got changed into the uniform like he wanted me to.”

Chris nodded and pressed the vibrator gently up against my swollen clit: “And was he turned on?”

“Oh, yes, he was nearly beside himself. I think it was all to do with the short skirt and the long socks.”

“You didn’t take your hockey stick with you to beat him off?”

“No, I didn’t”, I admitted wryly. “To tell the truth, I told him I hadn’t put my panties back on after I’d changed. That was when he started to get really interested.”

“You could probably remember some more details with the right encouragement,” Phil suggested. “Tami, maybe you could kneel down at the end of the bed and let Chris get into position.”

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant but I soon caught on when Chris lay down in front of me and put his head between my stocking tops.

“Move on up and do some lip dancing with me, sweetie. And while I’m wagging my tongue you can wag yours about what you did with your sports fan.”

I moved forward on my knees, my hands resting on his chest, and giggling like a schoolgirl at the back of a unruly class: “Me? I didn’t do anything with him. He did it all, chasing me around the house trying to get his hand up my skirt.”

Chris’s hands were creeping up inside my legs, and then I wriggled as his thumbs pulled my cunt lips wide apart.

“What happened then?” Phil asked.

“I was ahead for the first lap but he won by a short head on the second time around.”

Chris chortled and touched me with his tongue. Phil moved out of my sight as he took a position behind me to photograph what Chris was doing. Which seemed to be nothing, until Phil dropped a hint.

“Don’t leave us in suspense, Tami. Where did he catch up with you.”

“At the kitchen table — on top of the kitchen table. It was all very unhygienic, I suppose.”

“Did he eat you on your kitchen table?” Phil wanted to know.

“Yes — and he sprinkled some chicken salt on my cunt first because he said it would make it taste better.”