Title : AngieAndJohn
Author: Richard Chandler
E-mail: mauser@intercom.com

			Angie and John
				by 
		Richard Chandler (mauser@intercon.com)
		(c) 1990-1 All rights reserved.

 Angie was beginning to get worried, while she had lost all sense
of time, she did know that it had been an awfully long time since the
last time John had done anything to her.
 It had all started innocently enough, at a party of course. John
had pulled out a pair of handcuffs and put them on her, as a way of
getting her attention.
 Well, it had worked, she splashed her drink in his face and
demanded that he take them off. He ran off shouting something about
his eyes, leaving her screaming at him at the top of her lungs.
Unfortunately she lost track of him in the crowd and sat down demurely
on the couch, not enjoying at all the attention she had attracted to
herself. As long as she was just sitting there, the handcuffs seemed
to not get in the way very much. It was when she tried to do anything
that they really bothered her. She ended up spilling the entire
contents of her purse trying to find something she could try to pick
them with. There was nothing but make-up, ATM receipts, gum wrappers,
and other useless junk. Eventually she gave up and piled everything
back into her purse. Three other people sat down on the couch and
started passing around a joint.
 Naturally she joined in. They all thought it was funny to watch
her take a drag using both hands and she started making a show of it.
She hardly noticed when the joint was gone, along with most of the
people in the party, she sat there with the bottle of beer that seemed
to appear out of nowhere and waited for that bastard to come back. It
was sitting there with her hands on her lap and the various chemicals
wafting through her brain that Angie realized that she was getting very
horny for some reason. Either that or she had to pee real bad and
couldn't tell. No... she was definitely horny. She held the beer
bottle tightly between her thighs and squeezed, pushing it against the
tight crotch of her jeans. With her arms she squeezed her breasts in
on the sides. Quickly she looked around to make sure nobody was
watching her. She looked right into the eyes of John, a little
bloodshot, since Vodka wasn't very kind to them. She froze. Did he
know?
 "I thought you would have left hours ago."
 "What, with these on my wrists?"
 "Everybody's got keys to these. These are those cheapies that
they made those belts out of a few years ago."
 "Well I don't, so I'd appreciate it if you'd get your key and get these
off of me."
 "I've got it in my room." Surprisingly, this wasn't followed by
some sort of sly wink, which caught her off guard because she was
expecting one.
 "On second thought, I'd better not let you out of my sight again."
 "Right this way."
 It was a huge house, built of large stones in the 19th century.
If there had been a college nearby the place would have been converted
into a fraternity house ages ago. Fate had been kinder in that the
place was merely shared by a group of grad students.
 "I didn't know you lived in this house," Angie said as she climbed
the stairs.
 "In the attic. I fixed it up myself."
 They got up to his room and Angie ooohed with pleasure. "This is
really incredible."
 "Like it? Here, have a seat and I'll get the key."
 She sat on the edge of the bed. While John shuffled through a
drawer, she stroked the light brown wool blanket that covered the bed.
Curiously, she found that the contrast between the blanket, her lightly
tanned wrists, and the nickle-plated handcuffs with the light from the
track lighting reflecting off of it was aesthetically pleasing. What
an odd thought.
 "Found it."
 He knelt down and picked up her hands to take off the cuffs. She
held his hands and looked into his eyes. "I'm really sorry I threw my
drink in your face."
 "I've suffered worse."
 Angie actually began to feel guilty for hating him. He had, after
all, only been playing around and she built it up into this whole big
deal in her mind.
 Looking at him, Angie realized he was quite handsome, and his
hands felt so strong and firm, yet gentle as they held hers. She
leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.
 He didn't move, and momentarily Angie feared that she had made a
horrible mistake. Actually she had, but not the one she was thinking
of, as she found out later.
 He pushed her back onto the bed and laid on top of her, kissing
her with a passion that only fanned the flames growing in her loins.
She wanted to hold him close, press her body harder against him, but
her hands were still chained. Indeed, he had hooked the chain of the
handcuffs with his left thumb and was holding her arms above her head.
 He leaned to one side and with his free hand, began unbuttoning
her blouse. She was panting too hard to voice the slightest protest,
she was too aroused.
 With her arms pinioned above her, and her body helpless under his
weight, she could feel his hardness against her mound. She felt
exposed, and helpless, and as he began to caress her breasts, she could
swear she was about to come. She struggled and squirmed, but only
ended up rubbing herself against him harder.
 Then he began to use his mouth, twirling her nipple with his
tongue. She couldn't resist any longer. Hooking her legs around
behind his, she ground herself against his cock. She wanted it inside
her so badly that she was determined to push it through the two
intervening layers of denim. She strained her arms against the cuffs,
her chest was heaving when he bit down on her nipple. Her scream
echoed throughout the attic room. It was one of combined ecstasy and
pain, frustration and release. Angie came hard, and it left her weak
and panting.
 "Oh god... John... Please... fuck me."
 "I guess you don't hate me anymore then?"
 "Oh please, don't punish me this way."
 "How shall I punish you then?"
 Angie had no idea what John had in mind, but she would do anything
now that she was worked up to this peak. "Anything, just do it."
 She didn't quite catch the comment he made about Pandora's Box,
she was too busy trying to catch her breath. While he was messing
around with something in the closet, she reached down with her chained
hands and unzipped her jeans.
 She slid them off and onto the floor, along with her soaked
panties. She wriggled her way onto the center of the bed with her head
on the pillow. Lying there in just an unbuttoned blouse and a pair of
handcuffs, she began to play with herself. "Come on, John."
 Then she heard the jingling sound. She propped herself up on one
elbow to see what it was. It took her a moment to figure out what it
was, and she wished she hadn't. The jingling was coming from the rings
and buckles hanging from this mass of black leather and straps. Then
she re-considered. Part of what had turned her on so much was the
feeling of helplessness, kind of like being the damsel in distress.
She recalled how much she enjoyed it when the boys in her neighborhood
played Cowboys and Indians and she got to play the Indian princess who
got captured and tied up by the Cowboys, or the Cowgirl who got
captured and tied up by the Indians. She had heard about people who
were into bondage, but had never even considered what she would do if
she actually met one. She even began to wonder if she was one
herself. She began to look towards this encounter with curiosity and
anticipation. If she didn't like it she could just ride it out, but if
she did, and she certainly was in a receptive mood, she would be in for
an incredible experience. Anyway, she couldn't run screaming from the
house in her current state of affairs.
 She put on a sultry look. "What are you gonna do with all the
hardware, big boy?" It wasn't Mae West, but she tried.
 "That is for me to know, and you to find out."
 "I'm not entirely sure I want to find out." Actually she did, but
she couldn't give in that easily. "What's that all for?"
 "I'll tell you as I go along. But first, I'll have to take those
off. "He was referring to both the handcuffs and the blouse.
 "Hey, that's no fair, you're still dressed."
 "You're in no position to complain my dear, Nya ha ha ha," he
said, twirling the end of an imaginary moustache. Angie couldn't help
but laugh. She kissed him. "Okay, I'll try."
 John removed the handcuffs and she slipped off her blouse.
 She noticed the deep lines on her wrists from the hard steel, and
she started to rub them.
 "Give me your hands, I have a cure for that." What he actually
had were leather wrist cuffs. They were fairly wide, about three
inches, and held closed by two big silver buckles. There was a large
ring hanging from a D- ring attached to them, and it was pretty obvious
to her what it was for. Compared to the cuffs, these were actually
comfortable. They fit tightly, exactly against her skin, but they
conformed to the shape of her wrists. Then he produced a pair of ankle
cuffs that were exactly the same, only heavier.
 "This is getting interesting. You're turning me into quite the
proper slave girl, aren't you?" She held up one hand and rocked it
back and forth. The rings jangled together. "And you don't even need
bells..." She put her hand on his thigh and then slid it higher. She
felt his hardness return. "Take me... Master." This role was easy to
slip into, and it made a very interesting game.
 "You take me," he said, leaning back on the bed. Angie took her
cue instantly, getting down on her knees and taking the shoes from his
feet that were hanging over the edge of the bed. She peeled off his
socks, which were still fresh (He must have taken a shower just before
the party, she thought) and massaged his feet. She looked up at him,
and me this eyes, and without breaking her gaze away from his, began
kissing his toes.
 He patted the space beside him on the bed and she was there,
nestled under his arm, running her hand across his chest. The ring
caught and jingled on each of his buttons, so she started unfastening
them. She pulled aside his shirt and gazed at his chest. If she had
seen him without a shirt this summer when he was getting this tan, she
would have been dating him already. His skin was so smooth and
perfect, hairless, except for a thin ring around his nipples (Why do
men have them anyway? She wondered as she ran her fingers across them
one by one.) and the curly wisps coming up to his navel from below his
belt.
 His belt was her next target. She unbuckled it, unbuttoned his
jeans, unzipped the fly, and slid her hands down so that she could pull
down his jeans and briefs together. Fortunately he gave her a hand by
putting his feet up on the bed and lifting his hips. She nearly gasped
at the sight of his perfectly defined stomach muscles. How could he
find time to study while he kept his body in such great shape?
 Throwing the pants to the floor, she looked upon what she had
unveiled. From her experience, she could tell that this was a better
than average cock. Men always claimed to have more, and he was
certainly below some of the exaggerations she heard, but when compared
to the reality, this was something special. She could wrap both of her
hands around it, and still have plenty of it left to suck, which was
exactly what she did. He let out a grunt, and she could feel the
muscles tensing in his crotch, so she stopped. That ought to fix him,
she thought, make him want me, now.
 It did, John grabbed her and pulled her to the bed, kissing her
and stroking her tongue with his. He pinned her arms above her head,
and then she realized that he was actually hooking ropes from the posts
of the bed through the rings.
 She started to pull, but it was too late, he was already
tightening the ropes to her legs. She was spread completely out. He
re-mounted the bed, poised himself above her, and paused. "umm..."
 "Pill," she blurted out, trying hard not to lose the mood of the
scene.
 "Right," he said, and guiding himself with one hand, slid his cock
with excruciating slowness into her flooded vagina. She pulled against
the ropes and moaned. Arching her back and shaking her head from side
to side.
 He penetrated her to the fullest, and she gasped with her eyes
wide open, and flopped back down on the bed. John began stroking in
and out, varying both the tempo and length. It was too much for
Angie. She strained and pulled, she was breathing so heavily that she
could hardly manage a low scream that was more like a VERY loud moan.
 "Aaaarrrrrh!" John was coming, and stroking very quickly. Angie
was just on the brink, and when she felt those contractions as his
sperm came spurting into her, she went over the edge. Angie came even
harder than before. John collapsed on top of her, without
withdrawing. They were both panting and sweaty. The two just laid
there for a while to catch their breath.
 A few minutes later, John climbed off the bed, and surveyed the
spread form of Angie on the bed. Sweat glistened on her heaving
breasts. Her closed eyelids were still darkened with arousal. Her
clenched fists strained against the leather and relaxed.
 Angie opened her eyes and looked up at him. "That was absolutely
incredible," she said dreamily, "but, could I get up now?"
 "Maybe," John smiled. Quickly, he went to the closet and returned
with a few padlocks and a length of chain. First he connected the
chain to her ankle cuffs with two locks, and then, with the third, he
connected her wrists.
 Angie watched the whole proceeding with a bemused expression on
her face. "I assume, then, that you mean to keep me around...."
 "Let's just say I've had my eyes on you for a long time, and I've
always fantasized about making you mine."
 "Mmmm, keep doing this to me and you'll get your wish. But right
now, I really have to go to the bathroom."
 "Well, there's one downstairs...." She looked at him
incredulously. "...but there's another right around there behind the
wardrobe."
 "Thanks," she said as she hopped off the bed. The chain rattled
loudly on the hardwood floor.
 While she was gone, John made preparations for what he hoped she
would agree to next.
 Angie rattled back in to the bedroom just as John finished
untangling the pride of his collection. "What is that?" she asked,
pointing with both hands (As if she had a choice). Handcuffs, ropes,
and even leather shackles she could understand, but what was before her
eyes now, she couldn't even guess what part of the body it was for, let
alone how it went. If that long cylindrical thing was supposed to be
some sort of dildo, where did her legs go?
 "I think I'm in over my head."
 "No, but you will be...."
 "Wait, this is going a bit too fast for me."
 "I'm sorry, I guess I was getting carried away. I've always had a
passion for this sort of thing, and with you it seemed like a fantasy
come true. I'm sorry if I've scared you. If you want to go, I'll let
you."
 Angie looked at him. He looked much better to her when he was in
control. "Look, it's not that I'm scared.... Well, I am, sort of, but
I've really enjoyed this so far, but I just need to know were it's
going to end up."
 John visibly brightened. "You have? I've never met anyone before
who shared my interests."
 "Well, I don't know exactly if I do, but I think I might. I just
want to understand what I'm getting into."
 "Well this... " John said, holding up the head harness. They
laughed. "But seriously, ordinary sex just never really did it for
me. The bondage, when I did it to myself, just concentrated
everything, and made it so much more intense. When I could do it to a
woman, I knew the pleasure she could experience, and it thinking of it
just charged the experience for me. The trouble was, usually that
wasn't the case."
 "Well, I can tell you, that experience was certainly overwhelming
for me. I felt helpless, but I wasn't frightened... too much. And
you're not too bad at the ordinary sex part."
 "Comes from reading Mom's Cosmopolitan when I was a kid."
 There was a pause.
 "Do you think you'd like to try it again."
 "I guess, I'm not sure when I've got a free night."
 "It's Saturday, do you have anyplace you have to be tomorrow?"
 "You mean now? I need to think a bit." Once she had firmly
banished the thought that anything could go wrong, she agreed. "Now
what exactly is this thing."
 "Come here and I'll show you. This part goes in your mouth...."
 When that last buckle had been buckled, Angie was kneeling on the
floor. The gag harness filled her mouth, and the attached blindfold
blocked out all light. The harness had a strap that went under her
chin, and that, combined with the stiff posture collar held her head
completely immobile. John had also placed a belt with rings on it
tightly around her waist and locked both her wrists and ankles to it.
A long strap encircled her elbows and then wound around her chest below
her breasts. Another strap was cinched just above them. Two more
secured her ankles to her thighs. And finally, her nipples protruding
between the straps got a pair of clamps. Those worrisome thoughts
began clawing at the back of her mind again.
 John stepped back and surveyed his work again. Angie was more
suited to bondage than any of the women in his collection of
magazines. He had taken care to make sure her black hair cascaded over
the straps of the harness instead of being trapped under them, so it
looked like something she might have put on herself, like it was meant
to be there for a long time.
 "It's done," he announced. He watched her shift a little bit in
her bonds, testing them. God, he was harder than ever. John reached
down and began gently stroking himself as he walked around her. Angie
knew he was moving and tried to face him, but between the blindfold and
the rest of the bondage, the effort was pointless. John started the
VCR, pulled on some clothes and left the room.
 Eventually Angie became aware that John had left. She began to
struggle. She breathed deeply and strained against the straps across
her chest, but that only tightened the loop about her elbows. She
tried to reach the buckles of the shackles, but they were just beyond
her fingertips. She squirmed and twisted, but John had bound her too
well.
 The sensory deprivation was getting to her too. She couldn't see,
there was nothing to hear except the creaking of the leather as she
struggled and her own desperate breathing. The prod of the gag was
soaked with her saliva. She bit down, but the leather-covered foam was
too resilient.
 It seemed like hours. Finally she settled down, resigned that
there was nothing that she could do.
 After what seemed like another eternity, she began to worry
again. What if something had happened to John? She could die bound up
like this! She had to escape! Her furious struggles left her lying on
her back, after thumping her head on the floor.
 She heard someone coming up the stairs and she froze. Who was
it? When the hand began caressing her breast, she decided it had to be
John.
 "I hope you haven't been waiting too long," he said, "I just took
about half an hour to clean up party debris."
 That was only half an hour! But her nipples were burning in the
clamps, and all those thoughts that had been racing through her
mind.... Still, the sensation of being touched again, after what had
seemed such along time was so intense.
 Then, he lifted her onto the bed. A surge of sensation hit her as
he unclamped one of her breasts and began massaging her nipple with his
tongue. It was as if her entire being were concentrated in that one
point. The rest of her bound body slipped away from her attention,
with the exception of the prod in her mouth.
 The Harness/Gag/Blindfold had held most of her attention when she
had first been bound. The sensation of having her head tightly encased
in stiff leather was new and startling to her. The way the prod was
irremovably held in her mouth emphasized that her head was IN the
harness. It was very difficult to put in to words the sensation of
confinement that device gave her. Of course, now it was annoying
because she was starting to pant, and the strap under her chin kept her
teeth tightly clamped around the prod.
 Where had John learned his technique? Most men tend to spread
their attention around, playing a little bit with one breast, then
perhaps nibbling an ear, then moving on to another area, without
leaving any one of them completely satisfied. John was still kissing
and caressing her one free breast. Angie was getting so aroused she
wanted to scream, but all she could manage was a raspy hum. She
squirmed on the bed, but John kept nibbling on her breast. Then he
surprised her.
 Unnoticed until he struck, John had taken the clamp he had removed
from her nipple and suddenly snapped it on Angie's enflamed clitoris.
She tried to kick, but the straps around her thighs prevented that.
She couldn't reach either, because of the leather shackles on her
wrists. All she wanted to do was remove that clamp, and she couldn't.
She groaned in pain and frustration.
 "Oh, you don't like that. Let me kiss it and make it feel better."
 John knelt on the floor, removed the clamp, and buried his face
between Angie's shackled feet. He sucked hard on her lips and clit.
He penetrated her deeply with his tongue. He even blew lightly on her
vagina, the cooling air shocking her nether regions.
 Finally, John decided he was ready, and stripped off his jeans.
This time he penetrated her rapidly, and Angie's entire body shook.
John pumped as fiercely as he could and within moments, Angie came, her
scream finally making it through the leather that had silenced her.
John, however, wasn't finished and kept stroking madly. Angie began to
feel the tide rising within her again. As their rhythm reached its
fevered peak, they both came explosively.
 After he had cleaned himself up, John began gently removing the
bonds from Angie's body. Her knees were cramped from being held so
tightly for so long, and she was sweaty and sore all over. But it was
a good kind of sore. John accompanied her to the shower, and they took
turns scrubbing each other's backs, and fronts....
 In the morning, Angie awoke in John's bed, but John was nowhere to
be found. She got up, but the chain she discovered around her ankle
kept her from getting out of the bed. A folded note on the nightstand
said "Stay put". She laughed. She began to speculate on whether or
not she'd be at any of her classes on Monday, and then she remembered
that Monday was a school holiday....