My Friends the Allens -- Julie Bound
by Mark Aster

= = =
Note: this story contains graphic accounts of bondage,
homosexual and incestuous sex, as well as oral and
extramarital sex, all among consenting adults; any or
all of this may be illegal in some places.  If you live in
such a place, the author advises you to cut loose and do it
anyway, but be careful not to get caught.  Also, consider
moving somewhere where the laws aren't abysmally stupid.
= = =

Pat met me at the door, wearing only a big brown terrycloth
robe, wide open in front.  As the door closed behind me, I
slid my hands in under the robe, cupping the warm skin of her
back, and drawing her towards me.  We kissed long and hot;
I stroked her back and the mounds of her ass as she sucked
my tongue and pressed her body against me.  It was a deep,
soul-stealing kiss, and it took me a long moment after we moved
apart to realize what was going on in the rest of the room.
Then my eyes opened very wide.  "What the hell is this?"

Pat's younger sister Julie, a curvy nineteen-year-old, was
spread naked on the big white couch.  She was propped up on
a pile of pillows, her elbows tied behind her with a leather
thong.  Her knees were bent and spread, and her ankles tied
to the legs of the couch, her pussy opened up wide.  A strip
of black felt was tied around her eyes.  Her mouth was open,
and her breathing rough.  The pink nipples of her small
round breasts, stiff and erect, pointed up at the ceiling;
the bow of her body gleamed in the light.  As I watched,
she licked her lips and moaned slightly; from the smell of
wet cunt in the room, I could imagine Pat warming her up after
calling to invite me over.  On a low table beside the
couch was an odd assortment of objects I didn't recognize
immediately.

"Well," said Pat, reaching for something on the table, "the
official story is that I caught her cheating at Destiny."
Destiny is a complex game invented by the sisters, involving
cards, chips, and what-all else, that they play constantly.
"But in fact Julie just likes a little discipline now and then.
Isn't that right, Little Sister?"  And as she said it she
lightly tapped Julie's bare thigh with the wand she had picked
up from the table.  As Julie let out a strangled scream and
writhed in her bonds, I noticed that the wand had a cord that
was plugged into the wall, and that it had left a narrow red
welt where it had touched Julie's thigh.

"Ah, no screaming!  Remember what happens if you scream."  And
Pat took her sister's head in both hands and kissed her hard
and bruising on the mouth; Julie's body arched, her skin was
shiny with sweat.  Without pausing, Pat sat up, and again
tapped her sister's thigh with the wand, adding a second red
burn beside the first.  This time, Julie did scream, a sudden
sharp shout of pain or ecstasy quickly cut off.

"Ah, naughty," Pat chuckled, taking something from the table
and stuffing it quickly into her sister's mouth; then she sealed
the soft red lips with a strip of grey duct tape that had been
stuck to the table's edge.  Julie tried to shout something;
her tormentor just grinned more broadly.

"Jesus Christ, Pat, what are you doing!?" I yelled, appalled.

"Don't worry," she replied, patting my cheek fondly, "she loves
it, really.  Here!"  She reached over and cupped Julie's soft
open twat in one palm, pressing and rubbing.  "Shall I stop and
untie you, Little Sister?"  Julie moaned deep in her throat, and
thrashed wildly, shaking her head violently from side to side.
Her skin was flushed, and the muscles of her stomach convulsed in
a long slow orgasm.  In fact, I realized that the girl had been
coming continuously almost since the first time Pat had burned
her thigh with the wand.   I swallowed hard, and adjusted my
swelling cock in my pants.  "Well," I said, "at least don't leave
any scars."

"Nah," purred Pat, continuing to press and stroke at Julie's
thrusting cunt, "we have it set to 'hurt' right now.  We
only set it to 'scar' if she's REALLY naughty."  Suddenly she
stopped her stroking, and leaned down and bit her sister hard
on the left nipple.  Julie's moaning changed to a muffled
high-pitched scream.

I stood there and watched, strongly aroused and deeply disturbed.
A few days ago, I'd stayed up until dawn with this girl, thinking
up obscene new lyrics for "Whenever I See Your Smiling Face", and
having gentle consensual sex.  Now she was stretched out on the
couch in front of me, bound, gagged and blindfolded, her dripping
pussy exposed, her pink nipples pointing taughtly at the ceiling,
her body convulsing in a long involuntary orgasm.  I wanted to
free her and comfort her.  I wanted to mount her and fuck her.

"Uh, what do I do?" I asked stupidly.

"What an imagination!" Pat snorted, "Do whatever you want.  She's
our little sex doll for the evening.  Doesn't anything come to
mind?"  She looked at me in derision.  "Here, you can help me with
this.  We call it the Death of a Thousand Scratches."  Julie began
to whimper pitifully.

Pat reached down and put the tips of all ten fingers on her
sister's neck, just above the collarbone.  Slowly, she ran
her fingernails down over the soft skin of Julie's upper chest,
up the slopes of her breasts, and around each nipple.  Julie's
body slowly began to convulse again.  I licked my lips and
joined in, gently scratching Julie's stomach and hips with
my fingernails.  She moaned in the gag and pressed herself
against my fingers.  It was all I could do to keep from grabbing
her hips in my hands, taking her hungry flesh into my mouth.
"When vision is cut off, the other senses become especially
sharp," Pat remarked casually as she gently scratched Julie's
bare thighs.

"This doesn't exactly seem like punishment." I suggested, talking
to distract myself from my desire to rescue or ravage the writhing
girl.

"Oh, this is just the warmup," said Pat, motioning with her head
that I should continue, while she reached for yet another tool
from the table.  I swallowed hard again when I saw what it was;
a shiny steel awl, clean and quite sharp.

As I ran my fingernails over Julie's bound quivering flesh, Pat
began to scratch her with the awl.  The sharp steel drew a
fine line of white and red over the girl's stomach, around her
breasts, over each shoulder.  Although Pat wielded her weapon
with a sure and gentle touch, once or twice Julie writhed at
just the wrong moment, and the awl broke the skin, raising a
few tiny red droplets of blood.  I felt like crying from the
pure beauty of those innocent red drops on the flushed taut
female skin.  I lowered my head and ran my tongue along the
scratch, licking up one small drop.  "Now you're getting into
the spirit of the thing," whispered Pat, running the awl lazily
between her sister's breasts.

When Julie's orgasmic writhing became too violent, despite the
bonds, for us to continue our scratching, Pat sat back and
announced the next stage.  From a tube on the side of the bed,
she squeezed a line of scented antisceptic cream onto the girl's
stomach and chest.  "Here," she said, "rub this in.  Prevents
infection, and lets you indulge youself in the feel of her body.
That's what she's here for!"  I began to rub the cool white cream
into the abused skin, running my palms hungrily over her stomach,
cupping her breasts, and then squeezing them and pressing them,
shiny and slippery and soft.  My cock was painfully stiff, and I
was beginning to gasp with desire as I stroked the young body.

Pat leaned back on the couch, slipped the robe back off her
shoulders, and ran her hands over her own big firm boobs.
She closed her eyes and started to lecture.  "Another
aspect of discipline, when the subject is immobilized and
cannot even follow orders, is the female orgasm itself."
As I squeezed and caressed her hot flesh, Julie's muscles
tensed and relaxed rhythmically in another long moaning round
of coming.  "While at one level the subject is in ecstasy,
at another level desire becomes pain.  More and more, the
body wants penetration, wants COCK, wants something big
and hot plunging deeply within.  The more that is denied, the
more unbearable the outer orgasm becomes."  Julie began to
scream again behind the gag as she came and came.  "By
denying penetration, we impose discipline, and remind the
subject of her responsibilities."  Pat grinned and reached
over to her sister, running one finger between her legs and
slipping it just barely into the opening of her cunt.  The
bound girl screamed and begged behind the gag.  I had the
definite feeling that behind the blindfold she was crying.

This went on for a long hazy time, as I squeezed and stroked
Julie's body with my hands, indulging myself in the incredible
textures of her body, and trying not to feel guilty as she
sobbed and thrashed and pleaded.

"Uh, teacher, I think I'd like to fuck the subject now, if
that fits into the lesson plan."  My cock was achingly hard,
and I very much wanted to come in Julie's open cunt.  When
she heard this, Julie stretch herself toward me and nodded
her head wildly up and down.

"Hm," said Pat, "penetration is generally allowed only at the
end of discipline.  Come with me."  And we walked toward the
bedroom, leaving Julie moaning and sweating alone on the couch.
Pat whispered instructions to me, and I was depraved enough by
then to grin and obey.  In the bedroom, out of Julie's earshot,
I slipped out of my clothes.  As Pat made noise to cover me,
I tiptoed back to the couch, to stand silently in front of the
bound girl, my cock upright and throbbing.  Then Pat slammed the
door loudly, and we both went silent.

Naked and covered with cream and sweat, her body scratched and
stretched, aching with desire and exertion, Julie was alone for
all she knew.  She moved her head from side to side, trying to
hear anyone who might be nearby.  Her moaning had become raw
sobs, and her hips still rocked in the last waves of her latest
orgasm.  As she began to relax in despair, I suddenly mounted
her, and thrust my cock deeply into her molten pussy.

Instantly, she began to come, in a deep, screaming vaginal orgasm.
My cock was swallowed up by strong contractions of the smooth
moist walls of her cunt.  I lowered myself over her, kissing and
biting the flesh of her neck and breasts.  I had told myself I
would be gentle, but it was impossible; the strength of her
animal desire, and her role as sex toy, brought out the animal
in me, and I fucked her selfishly and roughly.  My throbbing
cock rammed into her and tore out, long and hard and thick, and
waves of pure primitive pleasure ran through my body.  I
squeezed her slick breasts in my hands, rolled the nipples
between my fingers, slid my cock slowly in and out of her,
then fast, then slowly again, indulging my own pleasure as
she screamed and begged and came.  Her vaginal orgasm ended,
and she began to shake her head wildly in denial as I continued
to plunge in and out of her.  It was selfish, it was evil, but
it was very, very good.  I finally came in a great rush of
cum and ecstasy, shooting hot blasts of semen into her aching
helpless depths.

Pat, who had come to stand and watch as I fucked her sister,
smiled her teacherly smile, and gently urged me off of Julie
and onto the couch.  After giving both of us a few moments to
rest, she began to untie the girl's ankles from the couch legs.
Then she reached behind to where her arms were bound.  "You might
want to stand back; the subject sometimes becomes violent at this
point."

The moment Julie's arms were free, she kicked wildly with both
legs, and began to swing her arms around and flex her hands.
She tore the blindfold from her eyes and the duct tape from
her mouth, and spat out the gag, which I saw had been an odd
ball of plastic strips, in garish purple and orange.  She
stared around the room wildly, like an animal seeing daylight
after a long captivity.  Her eyes found Pat first, and she
sprang at her.  At first I thought she was going to tear her
sister limb from limb, but then I realized that she was kissing
her, squeezing her big boobs with her small hands, sucking
hungrily at her nipples, all the while cursing hoarsely in a
way that would have made a longshoreman proud.  Pat lay
back almost passive as Julie ran her hands over her naked
flesh and pressed her body against her, pelvis to pelvis,
mouth to mouth.  Then she began again to kiss and suck Pat's
breasts, and as she moved lower, she seemed to relax a little.
By the time Pat came to orgasm, moaning and bucking as her
sister eagerly ate her pussy, Julie seemed almost calm.

Rising from her sister's sated body, she then turned to me.
She took two steps toward me, said "And as for you," and
then slapped me across the face.  It was a solid open-handed
slap that turned my head painfully to the side.  I had not
nearly recoverd from the shock when she grabbed me by the
ears, drew my head to her, and kissed me long and hard on
the mouth.  It was an impudent kiss, a possessive kiss, a
threatening kiss.  "You'll get yours!" she finished.  She
then turned her round little ass to me, took her sister by
the hand, and the two girls retired to their private room,
where I always fantasize that they do unhallowed sexual things
to each other, but where in fact I think they drink beer and
herbal tea, and gossip about sex and men.  I relaxed on the
couch, thinking.  This was the first time I'd done anything
kinky with these girls (unless you're some kind of Puritan who
counts hot threesomes with lots of oral sex and lesbian incest
as kinky), and I needed to sit and deal with my feelings.

I did get mine, of course, not very long afterwards.  But
I don't think I'm quite ready to tell THAT story yet.

My Friends the Allens -- Julie Bound
by Mark Aster
The End