Tied Up By a Mistress and Her Maid

My phone buzzed, a message received.

"Are you interested in a special offer, this weekend only? Double bondassage?"

A couple of months previously I had enjoyed a bondassage session with Rebecca, and the idea of two goddesses brought an immediate throb to the base of my belly. It turned out that R had a colleague visiting for an expo over the weekend, and some teaching was proposed. The two women needed a willing participant, and I was thought about. I felt honoured, and arrangements were made.

I arrived ten minutes early and sat in a park just up the road from R's house, and contemplated the sun and the grass and oddly, the playground nearby. I was to be their playground, for I would be helpless and lightly captive, safely captive, at their beck and call. I would have a voice, but no eyes and no hands, and they would chain and unchain me.

For all I knew, they could tie me to a table and go to the nearest cafe for an hour or two. I would have no choice but to trust the kindness of strangers, the kindness of two women. One I had met a few times before, the other a complete stranger to me, and me to her.

There she was now. Down the road a small car pulled up, and a tall woman pushed the door shut quietly in the suburban street, then walked across the road and up the drive, a wheeled bag rattling behind her. Just a woman of indeterminate age, for she was at a distance, and in her casual clothes, so I could not tell.

In the bag, then, a costume? For that would be a part of the tableaux, a costume or a uniform, symbolic perhaps, or lingerie. We males are simple souls, usually, and respond easily to cues.

I walked to the front door, a suit but no tie, comfortable. Rebecca, I knew, was practised at quickly setting an ease, a mood; but today there would be an unknown dynamic in the room. For the new woman was the lioness of this pride, the alpha female, and R was to learn.

Where did that place me? I wondered. I suspected I would be taught a new place, but would I learn? I wondered.

"Come in A, come in, welcome." I was greeted by Rebecca, a voluptuous woman somewhere in her forties I would guess, smiling blue eyes, dark shoulder length hair. She wore a black corset, her breasts spilling from the cups, soft. Her corset was matched with a short skirt, stockings and suspenders. Her figure was soft and full, and she expressed a homely sexuality, comfortable and open.

There was something of a mystic witch about her, perhaps, or playing at that role anyway. But how sophisticated, really? I wasn't sure. But who was I to judge? How sophisticated was I?

We were alone in the front room of the house, simply furnished, three chairs at a small round table. I could hear movement down the hall, so the new woman was going to make an entrance, then. R sat, and crossed her legs in front of me, her spreading skirt rising on her thighs, softly rounded. She gestured to me to sit in the middle chair, and I took off my jacket and draped it over the back of the chair, and I was waiting. This was new.

"Mistress Electra will be with us in a moment." So there would be a performance and an entrance, Electra is a stage name, surely. I heard a slow click of heals on the tiled floor, and slowly turned my head to see the newcomer walk into the room, pausing at the door, an ever so slight pose for her audience to see - hand casually placed against the wall, one leg poised ahead of the other. A pose then, an actress. So the room had a veil of theatre now, and was I an actor or a prop?

"A, this is Mistress Electra," Rebecca did the introductions, but I could see that she was the hand maiden here. For the mistress was a woman who graced and placed her presence in a room, you knew she was there even without looking. But looking, ah, this for me was indeed a newness.

If I was to see her in the street I might glance and, depending how she was dressed, might look longer. This girl, woman, I could not yet judge her age as she was in shadow, was fuller than my usual taste (which is, I have found, for slighter, finer women). Electra, as she came on into the room, was commanding. I stood for her, and kissed the back of the offered hand. It was a pretence, and we were pretending, it was staged, but the room was now a stage. Here indeed, was a piece of theatre.

"Good afternoon, A, welcome to my den." Her voice was clear, articulated, a slight accent that I could not place. From this country, but another state. She had already taken over R's territory and claimed her place. Electra was tall, and in her black heels, looked me straight in the eye, and I am six foot.

Her flesh was full and firm, solid but not muscled and not fat, legs long and shapely, a pearl white band of flesh between black stockings and tight cream hot pants, tight on her ass. Her belly was softly rounded beneath a transparent blouse, showing a black bra pushing up big breasts, a long cleavage between. The only word for her breasts was "magnificent". Mistress Electra was a splendid figure.

She took her seat, and with her attitude, it was a throne. So there I was, between the comely Rebecca and the magnificent Electra, knowing that I was being measured and assessed. Electra told me something of herself (and later, I would investigate her on line persona, and discovered she was indeed a revered presence in several scenes in this country, so I was indeed privileged). But I did not know that, not yet.

As we talked, I found it hard not to take my eyes off her, and I wondered if Rebecca noticed that I was not paying her equal attention. Here indeed was a show woman and a diva, and serious in her art. It now became evident that she was mature and knowing, no longer a girl, a girl no longer.

Slowly the conversation worked around to the time ahead. We established a set of safe words, but I knew that this was just a formality - bondassage was low key and safe, and I was prepared to place myself in their hands. Whilst I would be captive, I would not be out of my comfort zone.

Electra then asked if I had done cock and ball play before, and other than a simple binding from Rebecca another time, my answer was no. The frisson in the room changed up a notch at that point, and I became conscious of my heart beat for the first time. I was placing myself into their hands, and word by word, and step by step, I was surrendering to their will.

Rebecca led me to the bathroom, where I took a relaxing and cleansing shower, hot and stinging, alerting my skin. I swirled a scented lotion over my body, legs, paying special attention to my cock, ass and balls. I made sure I had a nice heft on my cock, but no need for hardness just yet. My cock has a pleasing straight hang, uncut, and a nice length. I was comfortable in my nakedness.

"I am ready," I called out, as instructed.

"Do not come out until I say," replied Rebecca, her voice nearby.

A silence of ten heart beats. "Now you may come out. Take three steps forward and then stop. Do not speak."

I stepped into the corridor, and as Rebecca moved from behind me, she swung a slap of her hand onto my bare ass cheek, snap. She walked down the corridor, her curved ass swinging above her heels, then stepped to one side, and turned and faced me.

"Put your hands on top of your head," commanded Electra, "let us see you."

The mistress moved to the end of the corridor, just a silhouette, and stood, her hands on her hips, her hair piled up high in a tight chignon. The light was behind her, so I could not see her face. Now I was scrutinised.

"You're right, Rebecca, he has a promising length, as you have said. Turn around, let me see you from behind."

I turned, and there was a silence, and then a step.

"Go to the room, and stand, hands by your sides. Face the couch."

I did as instructed, and in the room was a table, centred there, and a couch against one wall. I stood, my hands by the sides of my thighs, my cock soft and hanging. Both women entered the room and sat, side by side, on the couch, my cock just below the line of their gaze. I felt it thicken some, and my balls shifted.

Electra ran one finger down my belly from my navel and down my thigh, the edge of her finger brushing my thickening weight.

"That's rather nice, that you respond like that to just a touch." Electra stood, and moved behind me.

"Close your eyes, spread your feet a foot apart, to keep your balance when your eyes are closed. But don't move."

I heard a rustle, and Rebecca was before me, her hands upon my chest and stroking my belly and my arms. Behind me, I felt the touch of Electra to my back, her thigh pressing to the back of mine, and her hands over my ass cheeks, my thighs, and over the top of my back.

Damn, they were slow and insistent, their hands a butterfly touch on my skin. Goose bumps sprung on my arms, and my breath caught. For a slow five minutes I relaxed into their caresses, and there was silence in the room, just breath. I felt and sensed that they were both breathing in together and out, slowly paced, and I slowed my breathing to match theirs.

Their fingers would slide over my skin and my breath would catch and become more ragged than theirs. At one stage, and already time was losing itself, they both pushed their bodies to mine, and I was sandwiched between their warm skin. Rebecca was softer, and because she was not so tall, her soft breasts were warm against the top of my belly.

Electra, taller behind me, her hard breasts were firm against my back, and she pushed her thigh against mine. I could feel the push of her flesh against my thigh and her breasts against my back. Her breath slow on my neck.

Electra's slow fingers reached between my legs and finger nails grazed the back of my balls, riding higher and tighter now. An ever so light graze over my ass hole and the slightest push there. A hand now lifted the weight of my cock which was thickening and hardening, tightening up to its erect length. The hand gripped my shaft and I was held by one of the women.

Now I cannot tell who is standing where, and which hand belongs to which woman. But it no longer mattered, for they were both becoming concentrated essence of woman. One of my nipples was pinched, tight and pointed, and a throb connected to the base of my prick.

"Do you have the rope?" Electra asked R.

"You may open your eyes and look down," she could just be bothered to address me, so I was becoming her play thing, a toy.

My cock was held gently in her hand, short red nails curved along the shaft of me, the centre of my hardness in her palm. She squeezed, and I pulsed back. Her face was close to mine, and her eyes smiled as she felt the movement. She gripped again, but this time she held my erect cock away from my belly, and with a slow curl of her other hand, she grasped my balls in their tight sac, and pulled them down away from my body.

"There, placed the rope over the base of his cock, against his belly. Run one cord down under his balls, and loop one side around the opposite ball. That's right, loop it about, and do the same on the other side. See how the rope keeps his balls away from his body now."

Rebecca was handling the rope, but was uncertain with the movements, and cautious with the tightness.

"Try again, you can run the loops tighter. That's it, see how his balls are separated and pulled away from his body? Good."

Electra pulled one sac lower. "Is that OK, not too tight?"

"No, that's a nice pressure, that's fine," I replied, fascinated with the vision of my cock strained and hardened, the white coil of rope tugged around, one end in Electra's hand.

"Good. Your erection is mine now, and you will do as I will." And with a tug on my tied prick, she turned my cock tied, ball tied body around, until I faced the table.

"Bend over, so your cheek is on the table."

As I leaned forward I felt the pressure of one foot against mine, forcing my feet a little further apart.

My body was horizontal now, my hands across the table, and my tied cock heavy between my legs. Rebecca pulled my cheeks apart, and I felt cool air on my ass hole. Both her hands grasped my ass firm, and then there was a slap, hard on one cheek. And again. Slap, again, harder this time, both cheeks. My cock bounced, and Electra tugged on the cord. Behave.

On the other side of the table now, Rebecca placed leather straps about my wrists and adjusted them. At my feet, Electra did the same with my ankles, and placed a mask about my eyes, black now and darkness, one less sense. My skin had been awakened by the slaps.

"Lie on the table, face down." My hard cock was pulled back between my legs, which were spread apart; my feet stretched at the sides of the table, and strapped there. My hands were strapped close to my head, my wrists chained tight against the top corners of the table. I could rotate my hands, but could not extend them more than an inch. The women would be able to place their flesh just out of my reach, and now controlled my touch. Another sense in their control, now.

A collar was strapped around my throat and adjusted so that I could move my neck but always feel the pressure there.

A set of headphones was placed upon my ears, and made comfortable. The music was repetitive and soothing, electronic sounds, chanting or soaring voices. It would rise and drop, setting a pace and a cycle. I did not know it, but the women would follow its rhythms and it would be a part of the isolation. Not silence, but another sense no longer mine.

I could hear their movements in the room, but had lost all sense of direction. I could also hear their voices, but not completely, not when they spoke softly to each other. So parts of me were gone or dulled, and other parts heightened, sensitive.

Ah goodness, four hands massaging me, lotions smooth and scented, one pair of hands moving up one half of my back; while the other pair moved down the other side, pulling my spine and twisting my flesh.

Methodically they covered and caressed my arms and legs, stretching my fingers and my toes, firm hands over the cheeks of my ass and down my thighs. They gave me a deep deep massage and my captive limbs made no difference at this point. I relaxed into their work, and my breath steadied.

Then there was a hot weight of heat on my back, all down my spine, and now the tingling of a small spiked wheel ran over me. There was a small trail of spiking into my flesh, which felt glorious on my muscles and, ah God, a thread of light pain as the sensation ran down the shaft of my cock.

"Don't stop, more," I spoke, daring my voice.

And was rewarded by another run of tingling pain as the wheel was rolled the other way up the shaft of my cock and oh yes, over the bud of my asshole. And then the tight focussed pricking was replaced by a fine feathered tickling, and I guessed that a feather or a frond was being lightly teased over my skin, lightly, and touching up a set of goose bumps, it was so light. My breath caught.

I became aware of a presence up by my head, and one of the women, I could not tell who, was leaning over me and running her hands down my back and through my hair. I stretched up my neck, to raise my head into the weight of her hands, and was rewarded by a firmer touch.

I reached out my fingers and, bliss, there was the touch of a warm thigh, which pushed up to my fingers, and she let me run my fingers over the part of her that I could reach. I stretched out the tips of my longest three fingers and she teased away her skin, and then moved it back. I knew it was Electra there, for her skin was tight and firm, whereas Rebecca's flesh was softer, and I knew it already.

She allowed me to keep touching her thigh with one hand, and her fingers laced through the fingers of my other hand, and there was a gentleness in her touch as we connected through our fingers, me clenching hers, and she responding with a firmness. But then she was gone, her treasure of skin taken from my stretching fingers.

Then nothing, for two seconds, for five seconds. Silence in the room, and my senses heightened, what would be next? And nothing for another five heart beats.

Smack, a firm palm on one ass cheek and then the other, smack smack smack, each one harder harder harder. Involuntarily, I raised up my ass to get closer to the heat of their hands, for there was a rising beating of their hands and then, crack, a tight whip of a paddle or a strap, right across the cheeks of my ass.

Fuck, I had never felt this before, and the slap of pain brought heat to my flesh, and I could feel a redness bloom. Behind the black of the eye mask, I imagined the pattern of red hands on the paleness of my ass.

"Is that OK, is that good?" Electra asked, checking.

"Fuck yes," I replied, a gutteral depth to my voice, "that stings but it's good."

And was rewarded by a laugh and another firm slap to my cheek. Then there was a cool soothing, and a cloth was placed over my ass, the heat of my flesh fighting the cooling of the cold cloth. Between my legs my cock was hard and hot, and one of the women ran her finger along the shaft and the rope was pulled tight. My balls were gripped, and the pressure was delicious.

Now my thighs were gripped and raised up, and a pillow placed under my belly so that my ass was spread higher and wider, exposed to their eyes and touch. One of them pushed my legs wider and lightly teased the insides of my thighs, lightly dancing her fingers along my shaft.

There was a light buzzing, and a small vibrating thing was worked up and down the hot shaft strapped back between my legs, and around my rope tightened balls and oh fuck, I pushed up my ass so that the vibrating pulse could centre on my asshole, and a steady pulsing pressure was applied, and it felt as if my hottest hole was opening up wide like some kind of flower, and the pressure was insistent. It felt as if a heat was being pressed into my tight hole. Damn that felt good, and I groaned, deep in my throat.

"Ah, you like your ass played with, would you like some more?"

"Please, yes, push into me more, please."

I was starting to plead now, the pleasure was so delicious and I didn't want them to stop, not just yet. But at the same time, I did want them to stop because that would be their tease, and their control over me, and I wanted to give myself up to them, for my ego to melt in their hands.

I didn't often play with my own ass, and I forgot how good it could be. And here were two women seeing my open dark hole, pulsing for them, my prick twitching. They could do whatever they wanted to do. It was so liberating, being strapped, my asshole puckering for them.

"I think he might be ready then, do you think?"

I could hear them talking, louder, so I was meant to hear this.

"Get the hook." Ah yes, the hook, I remembered it from before. A curve of steel, maybe one centimetre in diameter, a straight bit perhaps seven or eight centimetres long, and a curved loop circling round to the other end, a long piece with a loop at the end. The shorter end would be slid into my ass hole, deep into my heat, and the other end linked by a chain and connected to a loop on the strap around my neck.

Cool lubricant was smoothed over my anus, and the push of the hook a steady pressure into me and past the rim of my tight muscle. The point of resistance was past, and my ass tunnel grabbed the thin steel prick and sucked it into me, deep, and I felt the curved loop of the hook cold against the crack between my cheeks.

There was a gentle movement on the hook as a chain was connected to the loop on the long end, and then a pull up my ass passage as the chain was connected to the collar about my neck. So I could control the pull of the steel rod into my depth by stretching out my neck. If I strained my neck forward, the steel finger pulled into me, and if I relaxed my spine and shrank back, the tension of the hook would ease.