Tits and cock | Plaything 6 | spandex and tape bdsm stories

"You get it now, don't you? You know you danced the dance, so now it's time to pay the fiddler. Right?" The man took a step toward her. "You've always been a smart girl, haven't you, Ms. Rogers? Twenty-four years old, but already quite the little realist." He slowly made his way toward her, while she slowly made her way back.

"You've always used your body to get what you want," he said, "so why should this be any different, right?

You've always put a great deal of credence in your body, haven't you? Because everybody else did. Well,

good news, Ms. Rogers. I'm no different."

Megan felt the wall at her shoulders. The man stopped seven feet from her.

"What's your body for, Ms. Rogers? You know, don't you? Well, that's what I want. If you want to get out of this room, You have to get me off. Do you understand?"

Megan stayed motionless against the far wall, like a wild deer hoping the beast would not see her.

Suddenly the man surged forward. Oswald Rowland pinned Megan Rogers against the wall, one hand on her arm, the other at her jaw.

"Get me off, Ms. March," he hissed into her face. "Get me off three ways or you'll never get out of here."

Outside the aerobics class continued, the students breathing a mental sigh of relief that Megan Rogers wasn't there to show them up. That she didn't arrived in her ridiculously skimpy and skintight outfit, to leap around with her tits or ass sagging. That she didn't easily bend her shape into any position the teacher demanded and still look like a sex symbol.

Inside the weight room, Megan Rogers was on her tippy-toe. She had to be, to get her pinioned hands high enough to reach inside Oswald's sweat pants. Oswald smiled as he stood behind her, watching her little deep purple nails gingerly navigating behind her.

She was quite the accomplished slut, he thought. She had accepted her situation almost immediately and was concentrating on accomplishing her goals. The object was set up. She could leave if she got him off. She reached inside his pants.

Her fingers were cold and delicate, Oswald suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her around to face the mirror.

Megan shrieked and mewed, cringing, her hands on his lower stomach.

"Now we can both see what's what," he said. "Proceed."

She stared darkly at their reflection in the mirror. She was hunched over, her shoulders working, her teeth biting down on the ball beneath the tape, then releasing-biting, then releasing-air exhaled through her nose sharply every few seconds.

Oswald put both his hands on her stomach from behind-- feeling her breathe deeply-- the flesh rising and falling between the bottom of the cut-off Tshirt and the elastic top of the tights.

Her fingertips found the shaft of his cock without problem. One hand wrapped around its width while the other lightly held the crown. Megan sighed, leaning back against him, her shaky stance widening.

He circled her waist with one arm and cupped her chin with his other hand, bringing her head back to his shoulder. Her eyes were alternately smoldering and glittering. She murmured at him through the gag.

"Right," he said. "It’s the biggest, most perfect cock you've ever felt. Yeah, sure. Just do the job, bitch."

She tensed against him, then closed her eyes. Her hands began to move along his shank. Her arm muscles were tight, but her fingers were light and cool, manipulating him like an experienced masseuse. She held on with both hands, but started scratching at the sweatpants, making little complaining noises. She looked up at him with irritation.

"Oh, all right," he said, letting her go- "I didn't want to soil these things anyway." He pulled the pants down to his lower thighs, letting his prick pop free.

She gurgled in enthusiasm and leaned forward so her hands could get better purchase. He grabbed her around the waist again and put his other hand flat on her back. She started and cried out before stiffening. "I know the routine," he warned. "Lull me into a false sense of security and then tear the fucking thing off. Well, if it goes--" He reached around and grabbed her right tit through the shirt and the spandex halter, "--it goes-" Megan grumbled in mock insult, then squealed as his hand went under her shirt, dug beneath the spandex, and filled with her round, squishy, prominent left breast. He held her by that and her waist, as her hands began to move tentatively again.

They started to shake and caress as he gripped and squeezed. Megan thought about what she was doing as she always did-- it was a challenge. He wanted to get off?

Well, she was going to get him off as he'd never been gotten off before!

His dick was big and meaty, but so were other men's. She had felt it before. She had done it before. Don't let the old wives fool you. The way to a man's heart is not through his stomach.

But Megan also thought about what she wanted. She couldn't cast her spell properly with this thing in her mouth. She needed to make the right noises, to say the right words. Besides, she needed to be able to scream the right words when the time came. So, keeping her head down and away from him, she tried to force the ball from her mouth.

She opened her mouth as wide as it would go. She applied air pressure. She applied tongue pressure. She nodded her head. She shook her head. She strained.

But the tape held just fast enough to confound her. Her lipstick seemed to have mingled with the glue to seal the stuff directly on her mouth. It had become a clear plastic cast of the lower part of her face.

And all the while her hands kept moving, her fingers kept stroking, and her arm muscles kept contracting. All the while he held her left tit like it was a huge hunk of salt water taffy, and kept one arm locked around her heaving waist. All the while she moved her body as if she were posing for her Miss March pictorial.

All the while she remained pliant and suppliant. The better to get him off with.

She felt the shaft getting harder and longer. She felt it grow warm and begin to quiver. She heard his breathing get ragged. Her hands kept moving along its length, getting faster and faster.

She went up on tippy-toes again and stumbled back. She "accidentally" wedged his cock between her tied hands and her ass, but kept stroking faster. She wedged her head between his neck and his shoulder, then stroked even faster.

His other hand left her waist. It rose under her shirt and slid beneath the spandex. He held both her tits now crushing them, and her, to him. He felt her nipples begin to engorge. He felt them popping and lengthening between his fingers.

He found they were both holding their breath. Megan would suck in air through her nose, hold it, then scream as loud as she could. He had to remind himself to breathe, then watched her-her face turned up to the ceiling, her eyes tightly shut.

He squeezed her tits, twisting. She squeezed his cock, twisting. She rubbed it furiously, her shoulder beginning to quake, sweat appearing on her brow and trickling down her stomach.

Oswald ground her breasts as if preparing loaves of bread. Megan groaned, fondling his cock. She spasmed, yanking on it. He suddenly released her tits, grabbed her by the shoulders, and came all over her back.

She felt the semen splatter her like whipped cream. He whirled her around just in time for his cock to shoot cum across her bare midriff and into her belly button. Megan screeched as he grabbed her and wrestled her to the ground.

Her hands were covered in moisture. Her outfit was dotted with perspiration.

Ejaculation was smeared on her torso. But the ropes on her wrists had not given; nor had the tape sealing her lips around the dark blue handball. Megan Rogers lay in her captor's embrace, all the wetter but none the better for wear.

"That's number one," he said, massaging the cum into her skin. "What do you do for an encore?,,

They both knew what was next. They had become aware of it during the initial masturbation. As she had fondled his penis, so he had fondled her breasts. As she had stroked the shaft, he had stroked her tits. He had kneaded and massaged them the same way she had worked on his cock-only he had grabbed and pulled while she had stimulated.

By the time she was rubbing his prick between her hands and tight ass, he was mauling her chest with the same vigor and speed. Just before he came, their movements had matched-as if her tits would harden and spurt as his dick had.

Lying on the floor, his hands returned to her chest, yanking up her T-shirt and spandex top.

"Tit fuck." "Tit fuck," he whispered in her ear. He yanked her onto her back, Putting his fist into her face. "Don't move," he threatened. Before Megan could completely comprehend his plan, Oswald stood, grabbed a huge barbell weight off the nearest bench, and slammed it down over her.

Megan shrieked and started, certain she would be crushed, but the large round weights on either side of the bar smashed into the mat on either side of her.

The bar itself went across her body, Pressing into her flesh at the very bottom of her rib cage. Her breasts jiggled, still remarkably erect, as she lay pinned.

Her bound wrists were at the small of her back and she shook her head repeatedly-trying to dislodge the ball and tape-as he went to work on her legs.

Her dark green eyes sought the door imploringly, as she heard the showers going on beyond. The aerobics class was over. The others were washing and dressing for the street as she lay there with her tops bunched under her neck, her mouth filled and sealed, and her wrists lashed together.

Her legs soon joined her arms. The man had produced more soft but strong hemp from a bag just inside the weight-room doorway. He used it to strap her shins to her thighs, keeping her legs in a bent position. Only then did he pull the barbell off and forced her to her knees. He went to work behind her.

"You know the score," he muttered, tying a cord with a twelve-inch length between her elbows. "Those are great tits you have. They hardly sink at all.

I've never seen 'em so round at the tip. It would be a shame not to use them. So

. . . !" He snapped open the cord at her wrists. "Tit fuck, baby."

The other women washed, dressed, chatted, waved goodbye, and went home-- all carefully watched by Audrey Rowland. Although there were some nice tight bods in the group, there was no one to match Cyndi, Justine, or Megan. Audrey let them go, concentrating instead on slowly, carefully closing this section of the spa off. She looked at the weight-room door with its "Out Of Service" sign, and wondered what her dear brother was up to.

Inside, Megan had lost all thought of contacting her aerobic class associates.

Instead, she concentrated on the challenge at hand ... both her hands, in fact.

Her fingers were no longer filled with his member. They were filled with her own tits instead. With the elbow hobble keeping her from too much freedom, she could just barely reach her chest. And with the cord stilling her legs, she had to make all the movement with her arms, torso, and chest.

He was standing. She was kneeling before him, her back straight. His cock was between her tits. She was lathering his shaft with them.

She was massaging his erect staff as if her breasts were twin loofahs.

"Come on, come on," he said, one hand in her hair, his fingers across the side of her face. "You can do better than that."

She pushed and squeezed, Covering his shaft completely with her pressed-together tits. Then she rubbed back and forth, back and forth . . . slowly, carefully, agonizingly. She glanced longingly over at her T-shirt and spandex top which lay in a small pile on the mats.

Oswald raised the tiny plastic container of baby oil he found in Megan's locker.

With a squeeze, he let fall a small stream. Megan felt it on the top of her left breast like liquid warmth. She let it course through her fingers, grateful for the help, and spread it across her expanse and his.

She closed her eyes, her head lolling back, and began to moan.

She pushed her breasts together, then pulled them up and back, up and back. She knew he had already come once. She would have to tend to the stimulation with extravagance to make him hard the second time. She rubbed his cock with her entire front, feeling the ropes at her legs and elbows stretch each time. She placed her face against his stomach. She moaned and rubbed her cheek on him.

"That is better," he agreed. "Maybe you will get out of here."

Megan's arm and shoulder muscles began to spasm and cramp from the strain. She forced control on them. What were all the exercise classes for if not to control her muscles? More perspiration mingled with the baby oil spread throughout her chest and all over her tits. It made her skin darker and slicker. It made the stimulation more luxurious.

Megan concentrated, altering the speed of her manipulations. Five fast and then four slow. Five fast and then four slow. Then two more very slow, and a pause before going back to jerking her own tits quickly across his long, fat penis.

She looked up at him with smokey, half-closed eyes. He looked down at her, smiling. "Come on, hon," he said. "I'm not going to help you." She looked down, staring at the closed eye of his cock crown instead.

It went on that way for minutes. Soon she was heaving in the effort to keep her tits massaging him. Her shoulders ached and the ropes were digging into her thighs. She was drooling and sweating so much that her lipstick dissolved and she could finally work her lips beneath the tape. She started to push the ball from behind her teeth. It Popped in and out of her mouth cavity like a respirator.

He was holding her by the hair at the back of her head. "Come on, slut case," he grunted. "Just a little bit more."

She began to mash herself against him, rubbing up and down, just to give her hands a few seconds rest.

"That won't do it, bitch," he warned, jerking her back with his hips.

"Here," they heard. "Let me help."

Then Audrey was there, having slipped into the room using the key she had stolen from the absent lifeguard's cage. She kneeled behind the wide-eyed Megan with Oswald's knife. The cord between the girl's elbows snapped in two. Then the blade was at the blond's throat, held lightly under her chin.

"Go to work," Audrey advised.

Megan started tit-fucking Oswald in earnest.

Her arms and hands were free, but she was still gagged, and her legs were still tied. She used the better leverage to practically batter the man's cock with her tits. She completely submerged it, her head back, the blade at her neck ' the woman whispering advice.

"That's it ... nice and hard ' Really roll that thing. He's a big boy ... he can take it. That's it ... use those fucking things. What else are they good for?

You're not going to have children, are you? A nice little slut like you wouldn't waste yourself on children, would you? So what else are they good for, huh? Come on, squirt your milk on him, honey. Really get those things going. Rip them right off, darling child. . . .

Oswald nodded, and suddenly Audrey dropped the knife, grabbed Megan's right wrist, and twisted it all the way up her back. Oswald grabbed the blond's hair and came straight into her face.

Megan reared back, but froze as the pain of her twisted arm lanced into her brain. By the time she got her free hand up, it was too late. Cum dripped from her hair, her brow, her nose, and her chin. She couldn't believe he had this much the second time up' She blinked in amazement as Oswald kneeled. Audrey was holding her right wrist up her back and filled her other hand with Megan's left tit. Oswald plucked Megan's left wrist from the air, pulled it wide, and filled his other hand with her right tit. Audrey squeezed. Oswald pressed and twisted.

Megan cringed and groaned.

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