Isabel 3 | free table bondage story

So are you going to fuck me or what?"

Ron smiled and put down the fork he was using to feed Isabel her breakfast.

"Now, now. Mustn't whine, my dear. Speaking is a privilege only for very good little girls."

Isabel squirmed on her chair and gave Ron a precocious pout. What was his problem? He'd manacled her hands up high to a metal collar around her neck. There was nothing between her naked body and his carnal desires save a filmy white peignoir that would probably rip if he breathed hard on it.

He picked up the fork and scooped another bite of scrambled eggs.

"Open up, sweetheart. Got to keep your strength up."

Isabel leaned forward and did as she was told. If truth be told, being fed by Ron wasn't the worst thing that had happened since her "vacation" began two days ago.

Not by a long shot. She shuddered as she remembered the hours she had spent with her nose pasted to the wall the day before. And the bachelor party...

She decided maybe she would enjoy the tame domesticity. After all, it wasn't going to last forever.

Isabel shuddered again and felt a familiar dampness creeping between her thighs.

"Cold?"

"Urmph...no, the eggs are just perfect, thanks."

Ron shrugged and fed her another bite.

"I trust you're enjoying your stay with me. You certainly haven't led me to believe otherwise."

Isabel chewed and swallowed before answering.

"Oh, yes."

"Is there anything you want to tell me? Anything I should be doing differently?"

Isabel shook her head, and then reconsidered.

"There is one little thing."

"Name it."

"Can I have some more toast, master?"

Ron laughed out loud.

"You're really something, Isabel."

She batted her eyelashes and gave him her best come-hither gaze.

"I thought we might play a little game today. But first I must go run some errands."

Ron brushed away the crumbs from Isabel's lips and stood up.

"Can I come?" she asked innocently.

"You can certainly try," he replied as he held up the collection of leather straps and cuffs he'd hidden behind the door.

When Isabel saw Ron lubricate the butt plug with the remains of the butter, she decided more coffee was probably a bad idea.

"Let's go into the den, shall we?"

Isabel rose to her feet and followed Ron into the darkened room. Somehow, she wasn't surprised to see a new piece of furniture when he turned on the light.

It looked a little like a coffee table, but Isabel doubted most interior decorators would recommend one with a hinged stockade panel on one end and three strategically-placed holes where a woman's breasts and crotch might fall if she were to lie on top of it.

A small moan escaped her lips when the hard plastic slid upward into her.

Cuffs hung down her hips for her wrists and thighs. But first, he quieted her with a soft leather bit between her teeth.

She closed her eyes as he unlocked her wrists, then the collar.

"Take off your nightgown and lie down on the table," he instructed.

The plug plunged even deeper as she flattened herself against the hard wood and adjusted herself so her neck lay in the half-circle depression of the lower stock and her breasts hung down through the holes.

Thunk. Click. Isabel's head was now separated from the rest of her body by an inch of polished mahogany.

Ron cuffed her hands to her thighs, then bent her legs over double and secured her ankles to the same padlocks.

Isabel made a guttural noise as she arched her back to lessen the depth of the intruder jammed between her cheeks.

She felt her head being lifted up and a thin strapped being buckled across her forehead.

"Look straight ahead."

Isabel did, and was rewarded with the click of a hasp as he connected the back of her head to the top of the stockade. She found herself staring at the TV, unable to move her head more than a few inches.

Ron completed her bondage by looping a long belt under the table and across her back

"I didn't want you to be bored while I was gone, so I've arranged a little entertainment."

He walked to the TV and pushed "play" on the VCR next to it.

"Enjoy."

With that, he left the room.

Isabel thrashed uselessly on the table, her legs splayed in a wide "V" and separated by the band of leather between the cheeks of her creamy ass.

Ron suddenly came back into the room. Flashes of silver danced off something in his hand.

"Oh, I almost forgot."

He reached underneath the table, felt around for her nipples, and crushed them between the pincers of two heavy clamps on a chain.

"See you soon."

Damn him, she thought, as she fidgeted against her bonds. The ache in her bottom was nothing compared to the red alert in her chest. And nothing she did was going to get her out of the stocks until Ron decided otherwise.

And what the hell was he making her watch?

The static soon dissolved into a shot of someone's feet. "How does this thing work? Oh, there we go," a voice said.

The camera jerked upward, and Isabel felt herself go clammy and cold.

She saw a crowd of men drinking and laughing. It was the bachelor party. Someone had videotaped the bachelor party.

Jesus.

She watched herself give blowjob after blowjob to the groom and his friends, then closed her eyes when they imprisoned her in the doorway and started in with the dildo.

But she couldn't help looking at herself as the clothespins were attached all over her body, then whipped off.

Isabel was suddenly aware that she was grinding the butt plug deep into her hole as she tried to rub her shaved pussy against the leather strap.

At first, she was ashamed that she was getting turned on by her own debasement. But that didn't matter for long.

She grunted loudly as her stomach rose and fell rhythmically against the table. Harder, harder, harder...must come, must come, must come...oh...oooooohhh...

The video played on and on. Isabel soon lost track of who was doing what to her on the screen as she continued her futile workout on top of the table.

When Ron finally returned, he found his willing slave drenched in sweat as she lay exhausted, panting and quite unsatisfied.

She looked at him pleadingly, but he soon disappeared out of her view.

Isabel couldn't see him sit down on the couch, but she definitely felt the table shift 45 degrees as he pulled it closer. And there was no mistaking the snap of his riding crop across her behind.

Isabel let out a yelp as her hips bucked involuntarily. She felt herself tense up in anticipation of the second blow, but she wasn't ready for the stab of pain from below when the crop connected with one of her dangling breasts.

His blows came slowly, and always where she least expected them. The back of her legs, the sweet spot between the thigh cuffs and the chastity belt, even the soles of her feet eventually met the sting of the lash.

But what really hurt was the fire blazing out of control inside her.

Fuckme, fuckme, ohpleasefuckme...

"What's that?"

Ron was standing in front of her.

Isabel practically screamed "fuck me!" into her gag.

"That sounded something like 'fuck me.' Well, trust me, my pretty wench, you will soon find yourself thoroughly fucked."

Once freed of her bonds, Isabel offered no resistance as Ron helped her off the table and led her through a door and down a flight of steep steps.

Once at the bottom, she playfully nipped his ear and grabbed at his crotch.

"Take...me...right...now," she whispered hotly.

She looked into his eyes and nodded quickly.

"Good. You'll like this game."

He flicked on the basement lights to expose a large wooden frame that resembled the framing for a house. Ropes and pulleys hung from its beams and posts.

"Go stand in the middle," he instructed.

Isabel had a bad feeling about the pulleys, not to mention the spreader bars by her feet.

Her fears were confirmed minutes later as she swung naked several inches off the floor, her legs and arms held far apart by the unforgiving shafts and then stretched even further by the ropes attached to the thick restraints around her wrists and ankles. As usual, her mouth was filled with a wad of horrible-tasting rubber. Upon closer inspection with her tongue, she determined it was a replica of a very large penis.

At least the gag had a breathing hole, she thought.

"We've neglected your pussy long enough," Ron announced as she hung motionless from the frame. "This should solve that problem."

He held up what looked like a pair of silver tweezers tipped in black with a small ring around the arms. A beige tube dangled from the joint.

Reaching between her velvety folds, he found her clitoris and clamped it tight.

Isabel sucked in a huge gulp of cool air through her nose. Looking down at Ron's hands between her legs, her eyes grew wide.

Then she closed them when the little vibrator started humming.

"Exquisite, isn't it?" Ron said as he stood back to watch his captive twist and turn.

"You'll be glad to know I put it a brand-new battery," he added as he started walking up the stairs.

But his words barely registered in Isabel's brain as she found her full attention dedicated to the imminent explosion in her lower abdomen.

By the sixth or seventh, she remembered.