BONDAGE BREAKUP

Synopsis: A couple break up after an intense BDSM relationship. She asks him for some of their toys and restraints- he agrees on the condition that she can only take those sex toys and outfits that she can manage to  wear, fit or strap onto herself in one go for her last bondage and orgasm filled trip home! A tale of 3 parts.

Author: Voyeur21.  

This is my first story, so any comments, ideas, criticism or feedback is welcome. If this gets you off or if it leaves you cold, let me know either way as its hard to work in a vacuum. You can reach me at CatGreenwood80@gmail.com

Part 1- Breakup Conversations

Well it was over. At last she'd broken it off with him. No more them, no more John and Anna.

No more boyfriend/girlfriend, Master/loveslave.

No more D/s.

It wasn't a easy decision. She'd wrestled with it, agonised over it, cried herself to sleep over it. It's not that she  didn't care about him. Christ, how she felt about him- sometimes it overwhelmed her. The stuff she'd done for him- even got  her tongue pierced as a birthday gift for him - just for his pleasure (she didn’t mind so much, she could always take the  bar out for work) And fuck, the sex had been good- awesome, Cosmo-quality orgasms even. How her back had arched, toes  curled and hands clawed against her ropes as he brought her to orgasm after crashing orgasm, till she was limp and boneless  from pleasure. But she had to make a change. They wanted different things. He wanted to go further, deeper into BDSM. She  wanted something more - maybe kids in a year or two, a wedding. But could he ever respect her as mother of his children  after he'd pissed in her mouth?

And then there was the cage. A degradation too far. She knew his fantasies and desires well enough by then, when he bought  that metre square cage over her protests. Put her in a tiny cage. Break her with confinement, boredom and cramping joints.  Then have her watch from her cage in the corner of his bedroom as he fucked some new prospective slave, letting her out to  tongue clean them both in relief. He wanted 2 slaves to wait on him hand and foot. Blow him and rim him simultaneously. Two  girls to play his kinky games with- forcing them to les it up and go bi. Well she wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t share him.  If she wasn’t slave enough for him alone, then she wouldn’t stay. She wanted to be a couple, not a trio.

They hadn't quite been living together then. She still had her own place- a shared flat with 6 people, but most nights and  every weekend she'd end up over at his grand, 3 storey manor. He had it all to himself, even turned a basement room into a  dungeon- a place she'd always associate with sharp pain and mind-blowing orgasms. He was rich, a banker - he made more in a  day than she did in a week. She was a librarian, literate but poor, especially with all the local services cuts coming.  He'd often offered to take care of her, let her move in, be his slave-girlfriend 24/7 but she'd always clung onto that last  piece of independence- her job and her room.

Then there was the BDSM itself. They'd started off as vanilla lovers, having met randomly in a cinema queue. He was a few  years older than her, but charming, distinguished. Funny, but controlling. She had felt safe with him. But he'd had a  massive kinky side, as she soon learned. Not that she didn’t have some kink in her- she'd always liked her boyfriend to pin  her hands above her head as they fucked. But John had started using cuffs, so he could better tease and torment her body  and use his hands to pluck, stoke and rub other parts of her body. She'd liked that - the security of restraint, the  comfort of his arms around her, telling her to do, absolved of all responsibility, of all guilt.

He had a method to get her to agree to anything, to each further step down the path to slavery. He'd tie her down, suckle  and caress her breasts, trail his fingertips down her sides and flanks, ravage her with kisses and hot breath and licks on  her ears, before working down to her thighs- teasing and stroking around her pussy, before going in to kiss, lick, suck and  probe her clit and hole with fingers, tongue and toys. She loved it- her body loved it. She'd moan and twist, straining to  close her legs around his head, to push herself against his lips. Then as the pleasure grew, she'd start to tense, her  breathing interrupted, as she fell closer and closer towards ecstasy, her whole body ready to explode!

And then he's pull away - lighten his touch to feather light, circle his tongue tip *around* her clit rather than touch it  directly, and slow the pace of his probing fingers inside her wet pussy. She'd still be turned on as hell, but denied her  climax. She'd shout and scream, curse him and beg for her orgasm. Then he might keep her motors running and slowly increase  the pace of his touches and teasing till she thought she might tip over the edge once more- only for him to stop at the  crucial moment. The ropes and cuffs would sing and groan as she tried to tear herself free in frustration. It was uncanny  at how good he was in judging how close she was to orgasm - he claimed it could tell just by listening to her breathing-  her lungs would just stop moving on the edge.

Then he'd repeat the tease-denial cycle for a third time and she'd agree to anything if only she could just CUM! That’s how  she wound up sucking him awake every morning for a month as his 'oral alarm-clock', or agreeing to crawl around in a French  maids uniform and clean his house every evening. Its how she would agree to his sadistic games and humiliations, and how  she agreed to try anal for the first time or be fucked naked against a floor to ceiling window in a 5th floor hotel room.  Its how she agreed to wear his collar at weekends and be his slave- patiently sucking him off, hands cuffed behind her as  he watched the news or football match. (God, how he loved blowjobs!) Its how she became intimately acquainted with nipple  clamps, vibrators, ass-plugs, chastity belts and arm binders. He'd dress her up in fantasy outfits, corsets, uniforms and  straps and ravage her, going around the world on her holes. He seemed fascinated by her reactions- intrigued when he mixed  the pain of a slap or cut of the cane with the pleasure of a kiss or a stroke to her clit.

As a woman of her word, she'd normally go along with this- occasionally she'd baulk at what her orgasm denied brain had  consented to- then he'd laugh, smile, kiss and cuddle her into trying it anyway, and if that didn’t work then he'd throw  her down spread-eagled, tie down her wrists and ankles and start tickling - the stick to his former carrot. She'd be  weeping and wracked with laughter- so tickled that her nerves overloaded and it became painful. She'd shriek and scream  amongst her tickle-elicited giggles till she couldn’t stand it anymore and did what he wanted. What else could she do? It  wasn’t like he was beating her into submission - she couldn't go to the police and say she was being tickled into unwanted  sex? But more than that, she didn’t really want to - she did love him, and he cared and provided for her. And he was always  attentive and loving - its just that she could never say "No" to him. He dominated her life, shaped it around his  convenience, wormed away at giving up her job and flat and taking the next step together, not husband and wife, but master  and slave, 24/7. And she'd come close to agreeing. But then came the cage, and her terrible, heartbreaking, impossible  decision.

But she'd made it and told him. At least she hadn't got the tattoo he'd been talking about- his mark on nape of her  shoulder for him to nuzzle as he took her from behind and a tramp-stamp to read "TAKE ME HARD AND FAST" with an arrow down  to her butt crack. She'd got out- relatively unmarked at least, and still with most of her twenties ahead of her. She was  leaving him, leaving the best sex of her life, leaving the toys and moments that had given her such forbidden pleasure and  the man who'd inflicted them on her. And he wasnt happy with her.

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"Well I think that's everything. Clothes from the dresser, shoes, toothbrush and makeup from the bathroom." He was matter  of fact. Brusque. Hiding his pain and rejection behind cold fury and icy politeness.

"And the photos?"

"Destroyed". She only had his word for that but she could keep an eye on some of the amateur porn or revenge sites he  favoured...

"Is there anything else" he almost spat.

"Well... I was wondering about...." she lingered, unable to formulate her meaning

"What?! Spit it out" he ordered

"Well I was thinking about the... the 'toys'? Whether I could have some? Take some with me, if you are not using them?...  Please!" she added quickly.

"Ah. Our toys. My toys you mean" He pondered for a moment. She could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

"They are quite expensive you know. Leather goods, latex, specialist orders. Made to measure. I could give you a good  price- about three grand?" he offered, knowing she didn’t have the money.

"I don’t have that much. But wont you have to get rid of them anyway? No... other girl is going to want something that’s  already been inside me."

"And how do you know they haven’t already been in someone else?" He shot back with the viciousness of a spurned lover.

She had nothing to say. The insult of it reeling in her. How could he say that, the bastard?! New pain radiated through  her. But then she collected herself. Mastered her anger and stayed on focus.

"Because I know you. And I know you wouldn't want to be reminded of me- not with someone new."

"Then why do you want them?"

"I thought maybe I could play with them myself. I loved how they made me feel. Give me something to remember the good times  with. And we did have some good times. Give me something to remember you by" - she appealed to his vanity, his ego. His  weak spot.

"Well maybe. But what do I get out of it? I'll be losing a fortune. But how about one last... game?"

"A game?" Fuck that could mean anything. But it was always sexual or dominant with him. His 'games' had her streaking down  the street at midnight, naked apart from a butt plug and nipple-clamped bells on her tits, hoping no one would be looking  out their window to spot the jingling. Or the time they'd gone on an organised art gallery tour with a remote controlled  vibe locked inside her, making her orgasmically gasp every time they came to an Old Master, praying the rest of the group  wouldn’t hear the buzzing or her muffled grunts.

"Sure. How about you come back this weekend? You are mine for the weekend. Call it a good bye session. You know what they  say- ex-sex is the best. And I'll re-acquaint you with every single toy we have and a few ideas I never got to try. Then  you can pick your favourite toys and wear them out of here. But only what you can fit on, around or inside your body. I'll  lock 'em onto you and drive ahead to drop the keys off through your letter box. You make your way home. But no taxis, eh?"

"Usual safe word and rules?"

"Naturally."

"OK, but I get to pick the toys, and the order and way you put them on?"

"Done. We have a deal. See you Friday"

She turned to go when he said:

"And Anna? Remember to wear your tongue stud".

End of Part 1. 

Bondage Breakup Part 2

Selection

Anna groaned as she stretched, pain still flaring across her tits and between her legs. It had been a hell of a weekend, John seeming equally determined to bind her back to him with orgasms, whilst taking out the pain of her rejection of him on her helpless soft flesh. He'd unpacked every kinky tool, restraint or item he had and laid them out across one bed, completely covering the surface. His In-tray he joked. He had them proceeded to try out everything on the bed on her, reminding her of its BDSM qualities, throwing them onto the floor once used - the Out-tray. Somehow he'd cleared everything from the bed by the time they were done.

Her jaw ached too - held open for much of the past 48 hours by ring gags, ball gags or just plain cock sucking. Even talking hurt now. The session had started like many others with a bit of fun for him- and humiliation for her. He'd stripped down, and then he'd had fun ring gagging her, collaring her, inserting a butt plug with tail, ben wa balls and then making her race around on hands and knees like a dog. He'd thrown dildos for her to catch in her mouth (impossible with the ring gag) and then tormented her with a whippy cane to her ass as she tried to suck them into her mouth and carry then back. Humiliatingly, she'd gone too fast and clenched internally and the butt plug had shot out across the floor - and once he removed the ring gag, she'd had to nudge and vacuum-suck its dirtied end into her mouth trying to present it to him and whimper-beg him to shove it back into her rectum. Once he'd gotten bored with adorning her with assorted clamps and bells to tits and clit as she fetched and carried dildoes like a retriever, he slumped back in his favorite chair and motioned her over. She crawled over, lightly sweating from her constant exertions, ass and pussy still full of toys, the tail tickling the back of her thighs as she forced her internal muscles to swish it back and forth for his viewing delight. She crawled between his legs and gently sucked his thick purple headed cock before tit-wanking him to explode over her chest in a peal necklace. Then he'd had her lick his cum off her boobs as it dribbled down her chest.

Having worked up her thirst with his salty cum, he watered her by setting out a dog bowl full of milk and seemed to take endless enjoyment out of watching her lap it up like a dog on her hands and knees, the bondage mitts still on her hands denying her the ability to hold or tip it. It had been difficult drinking that way- not just the embarrassment but also that she had to remember to vigorously shake her furry 'tail' or feel his cane. She hated drinking from the dogs bowl - made her feel less than human- a mere animal instead. A bitch. Plus her hair kept falling forward and into the liquid, then when she flicked it back, it stuck to her face, coating it in milk. She had looked up at John with her best big eyes /sad puppy face and he'd condescended to tie it back for her to finish lapping up her drink.

She remembered that humiliating start, and after that it got a bit blurred, different sexual torments running together. He'd made her swallow, fuck and sodomize each dildo, vibrator, probe and ass plug in the house, making her compare and contrast each one and given them points out of 10 for satisfaction. Then there had been a whirlwind clothes show- changing between the different outfits he'd bought her over the years- and having to perform some obscene sex act appropriate to each role- As French Maid she had to do a bit of French polishing. As a Naughty Nurse she begged for him to give her a rectal examination with his big thermometer and as a Hooker she had to please her john and then lick his cum off the wad of dirty notes that he paid her with. Already he was taking a Viagra every 3 hours just to keep up with her.

He'd put her into leather armbinders tight enough to make her elbows touch and strain, blindfolded her, fastened a posture collar to force her head upwards and then had her ride a floor mounted Symbian without relief, muttering something about "This'll change your mind". She orgasmed so much, over and over that the pleasure turned to pain with each gut-clenching explosion, her bound legs unable to lift her cunt up from that devilish vibration between her legs, the whole weight of her body pressing her sensitive clit down against it. Time seemed to cease as orgasm rolled into thundering explosion after explosion, a rolling, never ending barrage of pleasure that turned her womb and loins to jelly. Then when she begged for mercy, he pissed down her throat as he forced her through her 13th orgasm. If she missed a drop of urine, he threatened to leave her there all night.

So thinking back, that had probably been the first night. He'd untied her from the Symbian, let her clean up and toilet and then collared her, ball-gagged her, lashed her wrists together to a bedpost, bent her over the bed face down and alternated raping between her over-sensitive pussy and her tight ass, telling her that he wouldn’t ever let her go. She'd hollered and screamed and bit into her ball gag, tasting the sour rubber, struggling and squirming to escape her bondage, the pain of his invading cock getting worse with his every thrust. She would have called out her safe word if only he'd let her catch her breath and if she could have formed the words around the ball gag. At last he came, her pussy and ass red, raw agony. He'd slumped on her, all energy spent, his engorged cock gradually softening within her arse. She felt every twitch and move in her raw rectal channel, till finally he detumesced enough to slip out of her. As he did, the cum followed his retreating cock, running down her thighs in sticky trails. She too was exhausted, and with the pain abating started to doze off- the opiates of fatigue and exhaustion dimming the pain of her wrecked holes and the ache in her jaw. She knew she should protest, make him listen to her safe word and end it there, but she just couldn’t move- and what would she do if he still ignored her? Sleep overtook her.

She came to later, moved around like a doll. He'd swapped out her bondage, replacing her ball gag with a tri-strap ring gag and he'd hogtied her face down on the bed, with an ass-hook up her sore bum and tied to a bungee cord that ran the length of her spine and fastened to the back-straps of her ring-gag, forcing her to keep her neck and head stretched up.

She was placed on the bottom half of the bed, looking up to the headboard, and she quickly realized his plan as he came toward her, naked but for a cock ring that encircled his penis and ball-sack. He sat/reclined down on the bed, spreading his legs either side of her head and she got a face full of his now intimately familiar genitals. Pulling her head forward (her tender sphincter protesting!) she saw he'd done something with rubber bands on his cock ring, two separate heavy duty rubber bands were tied on either side of the ring, loose ends flapping away. His cock passed through the ring and her tongue tasted the soft, salty, musky, slightly acrid taste of his familiar cock. In another humiliation, he hadn’t washed since he'd raped her pussy and arse so she also tasted her pussy juices on it, and the foulness of her own traces of rectal filth. While thoroughly unpleasant to taste, this wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar situation so she didn’t panic or protest but rather just started working up saliva and rubbing her studded tongue around and around the warm shaft and then swallowing it down, to remove the taste of her own gritty filth. In the meantime, he'd fasted the rubber bands from his cock ring to the side straps of her ring gag and she realized he'd connected her face to the genitals. Movement for comfort, (and his arousal) was still possible, but not enough for her to pull her trapped mouth off his cock.

Lying down on the bed, he adjusted his position for comfort and pulled a thin blanket over them both. Then he flipped out the lights and said "Goodnight my dear. I don’t know if you'll sleep well, but I certainty will". He sounded happy, a little vindictive, but happy. His semi erect cock secured into her warm, unwilling mouth. She was hogtied and bound, face down in his crotch, unable to even bite down in protest. At least he wasn’t long enough to force her to deep throat him but even so, she could feel the purple head of his dick bumping against her tonsils. The worst she could do was to hard-flick the ball of her tongue-stud against his shaft, and he seemed to quite enjoy that.

It reminded her of the time they'd gone on a long car journey- up to see her parents, 4 hours away. No sooner had they'd pulled out of his driveway than he'd insistently pulled her head over his crotch, had her unzip him with his teeth, and then used his free hand to guide her in a bobbing blow job. But unlike the previous times, he didn’t let her up once he'd shot his sticky load down her throat. His fingers twined in her hair were unrelenting and he kept her sucking in a truly epic marathon of road head for the entire trip, unmerciful even when she struggled with lockjaw and the agony of being bent over for so long. He didn’t even stop for a break at the service station, instead peeing straight into her tightly sealed mouth, his firm grip in her hair promising pain if she failed to swallow every drop. When they finally arrived, her parents came out to greet them and she had to kiss them on the cheek with her breath stinking of his cum and piss. Her jaw was so sore she could barely talk the whole visit, so he took the lead, his easy flattery and obvious wealth and success charming them so much that her mother took her aside and told Anna "He's a real keeper". It had taken all of Anna's willpower then not to spit out to her mother what her precious John had just done to her.

It was a long night for her, unable to sleep well in her bondage, resting her forehead on his navel (the cord to the ass hook just allowing that) and feeling his shaft grow and shrink rhythmically in her mouth, sometimes filling her mouth to the point of overflow, other times retreating back, foreskin rolling down. With her lips unable to seal around his cock due to the ring, a flood of drool eventually collected over his crotch. The wetness would half awake him, and he'd irritably wipe it off, shaking his hips as he did. This would reawaken his trouser-snake which would swell till her tongue and its stud was hard pressed against it. Desperately to clear her mouth, she'd lave, lick and suck it till he came, swallow-gagging what she could and then he'd detumesce, both of them falling back into dozing sleep till the drool half-woke him again.

In the morning he seemed to wake up pissed and angry, partly from sleeping badly, partly from the realization this was their last full day together. He'd demanded a morning handcuffed blow job which turned into a gasping face-fuck as he tried to ram his cock down her throat and straight into her stomach. Then he tore his cock from her throat and mouth as he came, spraying her face with pearly white cum. He then poured some cereal and milk into her dog bowl and let her lap it up from the floor, the spunk on her face dripping down into her breakfast and giving it that oh so familiar flavor. He strode off for his own breakfast, not even bothering to glance back at her humiliation or to fix her now ratty hair.

After giving her an hour free to toilet and bathe, he returned to the dungeon cellar and still wordlessly he fitted on a black posture collar and filled her mouth with a huge, jaw-cracking ball gag. Then he tied her hands together, raising them above her head and linked them to a pulley line, causing her tits to jut out invitingly. Finally a spreader bar between her ankles and anchored to the floor forced apart her legs and lewdly canted forward her pussy. Anna was utterly helpless, not even able to turn her head or protect herself.

His face and demeanor had changed. It no longer appeared animated or caring or lusty, and anger flashed in the corner of his eyes. Suddenly she felt very scared has all control slipped from the scene.

"HOW!" he spoke. Then his strong right hand lashed out cobra-quick, slapping leftwards across her bare, vulnerable tits. *SLAP* - It stung.

"DARE!"

*SLAP*

"YOU!"

*SLAP*

"LEAVE"

*SLAP*

"ME!"

*SLAP*

Now he alternated hands, slapping left and right, watching her globes traverse back and forth across her chest, just flattening and pancaking as they collided with each other. Pain racked her tender chest, nipples stinging.

*SLAP*

"You are a fucking sub! You don’t get to leave me! A fucking bitch!"

*SLAP*

"I'm the fucking Master! I leave you!"

*SLAP*

"Why Anna?"

*SLAP*

"WHY?!?"

Red pain flooded her chest, as he kept pummeling and slapping her tender globes. She longed to cover her chest with her arms and hands, but his bondage was too cunning. Squealing into her ball gag for mercy was also ignored, John seeming too preoccupied with his obsessive questions to hear her answers

*SLAP*

"Why? What did I do to you?" he asked her, seemingly oblivious to her plight while raining down a flurry of bruising blows, near punches on her mauled and throbbing chest. It went on an on, endless punishment, seemingly stretching out to hours

*SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP*

She screamed and cried into her gag, shaking in her bondage, tearing at her wrist ropes to double over, to escape, to just lower her arms and shield her aching breasts. Tears of heat filled agony in her eyes! She wanted anything to protect her bruised and battered breasts.

Then those blue eyes widened as she saw him pick up the thin whippy cane. A mindless, high pitched whine of fear filled the room, hurting her ankles as she tried to jump back. She really panicked now, twisting and turning as much as she could to escape the anticipated agony.

He stood back to arms length, then brought the cane around in a great, anger fueled arc *WHIP-CRACK!" - a line of white fire bisected and agonized her boobs

"WHY ANNA?!" He almost shouted now

*WHIP-CRACK!"

*WHIP-CRACK!"

"WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME?! WHAT DID I DO?"

*WHIP-CRACK!"

Another welting fire across her ever-sensitive nipples, and Anna almost swooned from pain

*WHIP-CRACK!"

"WHY DONT YOU LOVE ME ANYMORE?"

*WHIP-CRACK!"

It all went black again, the agony of her chest too much, her mind instinctively fleeing to the sanctuary of unconsciousness. Anything to escape the pain. Hours must have passed.

As night fell, he bound her in rope, endless coils of it tying ankles and legs together, arms trapped by her sides, rope encircling and supporting her chest and ending at her neck, near mummified. Once more he denied her speech, but with a soft gag and then he blind folded her. Never had she felt so restrained and unable to move a centimeter as he lay her down on the bed.

She should be angry with him she thought- he'd completely broken the rules of the game and lost her trust. But now at least she could leave him with a clear conscience and she could genuinely blame him and point to his abuse of her body- he deserved to be left for what he had done, not what he might have done with the cage.... if she got out of this.

She sensed his weight as he got in and then cradled her immobilized form in his arms, his legs twining round hers. He'd never held her so close before. Her boobs still felt raw and burnt by his caning, but an antiseptic smell told of an ointment he must have rubbed in to perhaps take the edge off the pain and speed her healing.

Time held no meaning now- the bondage and blindness cocooning her from the world. She could feel Johns weight on the bed, on her, as he curled around her, holding her close. Gradually she noticed a shaking, a movement of his whole body, but definitely centered in his chest. A powerful, shuddering vibration and he seemed to cling on even tighter. She heard the gasp of released air and a heartbreaking quick intake. Was he sobbing? Crying? She'd never seen him shed a tear before now.

He was, his movements turning into great wracking sobs, his whole body caught up in the emotional pain that welled from his gut. And with every sob and cry he held her tighter.

In time she could make out mumbled words amongst his wracked sounds of anguish.

"Why Anna? Why did you change? What did you do? Why....leave?" he managed between anguished sobs.

She tried mumbling back.

"You... you always take it .... too far"

She didn’t know if he heard her or not, but it was true. The only answer she could give.

They showered together that morning- Anna naked but for the handcuffs still pinning her hands behind her back. He washed her- strangely gentle in the hot shower, a soft terrycloth dabbing away the drool and sperm and tears from her cheeks, then soaping her up in long sweeping arcs and gently massaging shampoo into her scalp. Again he kept looking at her nakedness, cupping her sex in his hand and stepping in, pressing her arms and back against the wet tiled wall. He lifted her, his hands under her buttocks as she desperately wrapped her legs round his waist for stability, his stiffening member pressing into her sex. He muffled her cries with kisses, his tongue dueling with the tongue stud in hers. One last glorious moment of cleansing, invigorating shower-sex that left them trembling and spent and satisfied. Later they breakfasted at the table together- like adults, like real people. She took quite a few painkillers with her morning orange juice.

The Sunday morning passed as so many had done so before in his house- he sat on a sofa in his summer house, looking out over the green lawn and well tended garden, enjoying the breeze through an open window and listening to the sounds of the garden. Anna was collared and leashed, naked and kneeling between his splayed out legs, her mouth gently nuzzling and sucking and worshiping his cock and balls. She was very still, resting her head on his thigh and gently holding his fat shaft in the warm, wet embrace of her velvet soft mouth. Occasionally she'd slide her tongue and its ever-thrilling hard steel ball up and down his shaft, or swirl it 360 degrees around the circumference of the sensitive head of his dick and was rewarded with a twitch or pulse of his pleasure, but generally they were happiest in this comfortable silence and quiet peace as warm summer sunlight bathed the room. She'd done this for him for many weekends, applying her tongue to his warm, silky glans as he read the Sunday newspapers in peace or they listened to the radio together. But today he gazed down at her face, his hands gently stroking her hair. Seemingly trying to fix the sight of her face into his memory, to make this moment stretch on forever.

"God, you are so beautiful" he said, looking down as her stretched red lips engulfed his shaft. She rewarded him for that compliment with a quick wiggle of the tip of her tongue into his piss-slit and his hips involuntarily jerked forward, just as she knew they would, his eyes rolling upwards in delight. 'Men... so easy to control with their dicks in your mouth' she thought as she sucked.

They spent a long time like that- gentle and quiet and peaceful, an acceptance of the end flowing between them. Anger and resentment subsided away. Together, until the old grandfather clock chimed the hour away, and their last session ended.

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DRESSING

So now it was time to choose. She stood naked as the day she was born, save for a pair of low heels. With what she planned, she didn’t need the unsteadiness of high heels too- she'd wouldn’t be able to stand unaided if she fell. He'd promised to return her clothes with the keys through her letterbox.

John looked at her with still hungry eyes, curious to see how far she would voluntarily go in bond-aging and tormenting herself. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze- he'd seen her naked before, hell he'd been inside her, seen within her, known, Biblically, every inch of her. But now their relationship had changed and he didn’t possess that right any more. This was the last time he'd see her nude body and his eyes drank it in, trying desperately to impress it on his memory.

"Ready to make your decision?" John asked. "What will you take of my bondage trove?"

Now where to start? Nipples? No, painful, leave that till near last. Dildos - not if I need to bend over. Lets start simple- collars.

Anna gazed over the now re-assembled 'In-tray' on the bed. A high necked posture collar? No, too restricting, not fun at all. The pink leather collar with "SLUT" embossed in rhinestones? Too tacky. The black dog collar with choke chain that they'd bought at the pet superstore together? And then had gone to the name tag stamping machine and had a disk reading "SLAVE. Property of John. Return to Owner" produced? No, too personal, too painful. She liked the moments of asphyxiation that it induced when he pulled the leash around her neck when he took her doggy style- the orgasms were always *harder* when he did, but it left some hard to explain chain marks on the soft flesh of her throat and she had to wear scarves for the rest of the week. No, the one she wanted, the one she'd had her eye on from the start was the inch-wide silvery steel collar backed with black neoprene. It was smooth and comfortable, didn’t leave marks, secured with an integral lock at the back and a D-ring front for leashes. Wearing it cradled her neck, a re-assuring presence and solidity. Also it was just her size- John had measured her neck with a tape measure before commissioning it. If she wore it, she'd soon know if she ever put on any weight.

She picked it up. Then paused. It didn’t seem quite right to just put it on. They'd always had a ritual- ever since the day he'd convinced her to beg for his collar. She'd kneel before him, and raise her chin- submissively baring her throat to the alpha dominant like a dog. Then he'd lock the chosen collar around her neck and name her Pet or Slave or Slut, his voice turning harsher and more commanding as their relationship changed from lovers to Dominant/submissive.

Reading her mind, he stepped close and took the silver collar from her hand. She looked up, into his eyes, baring her neck, but not kneeling, as he fastened it around her throat, tugging it down to her rest low above her collarbone. But he didn’t say anything. She sensed the words catching in his throat. The last time he would ever collar her. Her emotions turned hot inside her. It clicked as it locked.

There were other restraints - unlinked wrist and ankle cuffs of the same beautifully sleek silver design, the seams so fine and lock so well hidden as to appear seamless. Even the D-rings on them were elegant. She raised her wrists to him, one at a time and he gently locked them. Click. Click. He knelt, intimately close to her thighs and legs and then bent down to affix the ankle cuffs. Click. Click. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought his body moved in a muffled sob- it was a strangely submissive moment with him kneeled before her, perhaps as he too realized this was the last time he'd ever perform this familiar routine.

He stood up, his eyes moist. "What next?"

"The corset please" she commanded, pointing to an exquisitely brocaded gold and black swirled Chinese silk corset. She'd always liked it, even as she grunted as he pulled the strings at the back tight and compressed her waist and ribcage. It did wonders for her figure, especially in a little black dress or something near skin-tight. It'd certainly help her when she started dating again. The thought of a corset binding her tightly and the effect it had lifting her boobs seemed to obsess men whenever they realized she was wearing one. In fact the pressure and resulting pain on her tits reminded her of how recently they'd been tormented.

Fortunately the corset had a clip at the front which allowed the inbuilt silk brassiere to open up and fold down below her boobs, even as rest of her torso was kept tightly compressed. She undid it and looked over the In-tray bed.

In his time John had bought quite a variety of nipple clamps, stretchers, chains and weights, all to torment, pinch, squeeze, stretch and hurt her sensitive nipples. And honestly? She wasn’t a fan - her nipples were sensitive and pain in them didn’t turn her on- in fact it made it harder for her to get aroused. She much preferred they be stroked, caressed, licked or gently suckled- that would get her motor running, the wetness trickling between her legs. And she'd even come to admit that a squeeze or light bite on them at the height of passion could tip her over the edge into orgasm. But men! Why did they so like to maul and twist and squeeze them? And think it foreplay? How would they like it if she did the same to their precious and equally sensitive balls?

But that said, a chain between her nipples was sexy- a very light weight on them and she'd be aware of them all the time (the same as when she didn’t wear a bra). And something hot and wet seemed to erupt within her at the thought of being lead around by a line on her nipples. So she chose a nipple leash, with twin tiny lassoo ends that she could loop around her generous pink nipples and pull snug but not painfully so. John rarely used it, preferring the types that clamped, clipped or screwed on, but this was her favorite- painless, but sexy. After that she did up the brassiere again, wincing as her welted, pain filled globes got squeezed tight again.

John stood away, watching her. Realizing that he no longer had the privilege of touching her breasts any more. Drinking in the sight of them as they were hidden away from him for all time.

Now what?

Perhaps time to deal with her most intimate areas. Anna surveyed the bed, covered in nearly a dozen vibrators, dildos and anal plugs. There were little vibe bullets - she liked those - quiet, discrete intense. But they were pretty cheap and she had a Rabbit back home already. Then there were two massive, heavy, black rubber foot-long dongs that John had tried to stretch her out back and front with one time. He'd stopped once she'd pointed out that ruining her tightness would only spoil his pleasure, but she'd had to admit she had several intense, stretched out orgasms from then. But they took too long to adjust to and would be impossible to walk discretely with, even if they didn't dislocate her hips. She did briefly consider taking the remote bullet and its control, since she knew any future boyfriend would get a kick out of controlling her, humiliating her, shaming her with orgasms from afar. But that wasn't on the cards right now.

No, what she wanted was the knobbly, medium sized rotating and vibrating vibe with the clitoral stimulator sticking out the base and curving back in towards the shaft. With that she could have orgasm after orgasm in the warmth and comfort of her bed- a toy for her to enjoy and to pleasure her thoroughly. Not as good as a nice hard and eager cock, but second best and with a lot less baggage. Her earlier deliberations had soaked her pussy, so it required only minimal lube to first tease her lower lips and soft folds to then send it gently sliding all the way up her, stretching her pleasurably as it did. She let out a languorous sigh and was tempted to turn the vibe on for a moment, but she could see a sudden attention in Johns eyes and tenting in his pants.

"A fine choice, Madam" he joked, salesman-style. "And for the derriere?" he leered.

This was difficult. On one hand, she didn't really go for anal. It wasn't her favorite thing, and it didn't make her cum unless accompanied with lots of urgent strumming of her clit. Receiving a rim job was quite fun and exciting, her sensitive tissues over-stimulated by the merest touch of a hot wet tongue transgressing against every propriety and decency But filling her ass with cock or plug was a bit different. She'd do it for the right guy, to please him, but on her own she wouldn't be touching it.

Still, it was effectively a free gift. After all, it wasn't her money, it was John's. She might as well get as much as she could. Maybe another dildo instead? No, too slippy. Unlike her well trained pussy which could clench and control with the practice of daily Kegel exercises (another of Johns demands), her ass tended to expel anything without a flared base fairly quickly.

But if she was getting something to please a hypothetical future boyfriend.... then she'd always found a little pet play seemed to get John's motors running strongly. It should work as well on a future boyfriend. She looked at the tailed butt plugs. Not the dogs tail with the big, long fluffy hair tail that she'd used 2 nights ago. That had an uncomfortably large 6 inch base and the tail nearly reached her calves when she stood. No, the smaller, slimmer 4 inch plug with the curled up, spring mounted cats tail waggling between her cheeks would do instead- that and a cheap cats ear hair band, some make up and a sexy smile combined with her slinkily crawling across the floor would give a legendary boner to any man with a pulse. It too slid in with a bit more lube and practiced ease, the tail waggling between her buttocks with ever move, sticking up rather than hanging down.

OK now for what she really wanted. The thing she'd had in mind every since she'd proposed the idea to John of letting her walk out with some of their toys and restraints. The thing she'd most enjoyed in their time together was the bed restraints. It was a simple system - 4 velcro'd wrist/ankle restraints attached to 2 horizontal straps with a 3rd strap connecting the two together. The straps all went under the mattress, with the ends of the horizontal straps coming out at the 4 corners of the bed. When spread eagled and restrained to the 4 corner cuffs, the mattress itself served as the spreader bar, keeping her outstretched and vulnerable, and so easily and portably bondaged. If she took away anything from this relationship, other than her vastly broadened sexual horizons and lingering sense of regret, then it would have to be these bed restraints. She could easily pack it in a suitcase, or since it was adjustable use it on her own small bed.

She'd also thought how she'd walk out of her with it on her.

"Wrap the middle strap around my waist and then run the others around my arms and leg and velcro the cuffs just above the metal restraints" she requested to John. The request seemed to surprise him and he really hadn't expected her to choose the Under bed Restraints, but he gamely wrapped them around her limbs and corset before fixing the velcro cuffs just up from the rubber backed metal cuffs that were already locked around her wrists and ankles. She really was a greedy and ambitious slut, he thought. Her next demand shocked him even further.

"The fur coat"

"You cant be serious? That's worth nearly 4 grand!" he gasped.

"You gave it to me, didn’t you?"

"But its hardly a sex toy!"

"You don’t remember the time I visited your office with just it and a pair of heels, then? It seemed to help your erection then" she wheedled.

He acquiesced with ill grace, but Anna couldn’t help but feel pleased with herself. While she did love how it felt on her skin (especially the one time they made love on it), if she did ever need to make rent for 6 months or so, she could always pawn it. And for all that he'd put her through yesterday, she certainly thought she'd earned it!

The long brown fur coat draped over her- buttoned at the front it even managed to cover her impressive corset-enhanced cleavage. It feel almost to her ankles nearly obscuring the view of the 2 sets of ankle cuffs she had on. The sleeves were long and voluminous and easily hid sight of her wrist restraints

She ran over her mental checklist- did she have everything?

Collar and cuffs. Locked on. Butt plug and vibrator in and clenched. Nipple clips gently tugging. Bed restraints encircling her limbs. Heels, corset and fur coat- on.

So perhaps a few more accessories?

"Lets try to fit some more onto my wrists, shall we John? How about the police handcuffs?"

She held up her left hand "Is there space to lock both cuffs onto the same wrist?"

"Oh No" refused John, still smarting from the loss of the expensive fur coat. "All bondage must be properly worn. That's implicit". He reached for her right hand and brought it up to join her left wrist in front of her.

"But you said I could choose how I put them on?"

"And you said you'd go home in bondage. You can't expect not to be a little tied up?" he retorted as he slapped the cuffs on her. Click. Click. With 3 sets of cuffs on each wrist, her forearms were starting to look like a teenagers bangle collection.

"Fine then" she recovered- "Lets talk silk scarves. I want one around my neck over the collar. And the second you can wrap like a stole around my wrists to hide the handcuff links. Then handbag strap over my shoulder and across my body, so it cant slip off. And if you could get my bus travel card out and put it in my right hand, please."

This he did- his ill grace fading a little as he worked around her increasingly helpless body. She could walk, but the handcuffs and thick fur coat sleeves were making it hard for her to use her hands for anything but the simplest movements in an arc in front of her navel.

"All done?" he asked

"Nearly done. So you'll help me to the street and then you'll get in to your car and deliver my things and all the keys to my house? You wont.... mess around?" she entreated, eyes worried at his potential for mischief and her vulnerability.

"Scouts honor" he held her gaze and seemed sincere.

"Then fetch my favorite blue ball gag- the one with the air holes in it. I need you to put it on me, then wrap another silk scarf around my neck and chin- up to my nose to hide the gag"

"And John?" she continued. "Goodbye. I wish you well".

He turned then to the bed, silent at her farewell. Returning with gag and scarf, and for the last time Anna submissively opened her mouth. The blue ball gag only had two straps going around the side of the head, but it was an old, old friend. How many times had her teeth clenched on it, as she spent her pain on it rather than cry out? It was comfortable, and while it made her drool a little, it wasn’t as bad as the cruel ring gag which launched a tidal wave of saliva down her chest whenever she looked down. And unlike the solid balls or expendables, she never felt like she couldn’t breath with it on. No, if she planned to have some nice sexy solo time with the vibrator between her legs in her little room, then she'd need this ball gag to help muffle her cries of ecstasy from her room mates. Another silk scarf - blue this time to match the one acting as a stole around her chained wrists was wrapped around her face. She could still see and breath, but never had she simultaneously been so naked and so hidden.

It was quite an inventory she bore upon her graceful body - Collar and 4 metal cuffs. Hand cuffs. Under bed restraints. Nipple noose. Knobbly vibrator and cat's tail butt plug. Ball Gag. Corset, fur coat and 3 silk scarves. Every hole she had was filled. Every limb restrained twice or more. She was a walking bondage display. A fetish model about to board a No. 97 bus.

She left John's house for the last time- tottering a little down the steps, her bound arms no longer swinging naturally. The bus travel card in her bound hands, handbag tight across the expanse of the fur coat, and John watched her silently from the door. She looked like a million dollars. The best thing in his life walking out of it. How on earth would she make it home in that state? She was absolutely defenseless.

He started out to follow.....

To Be Concluded in Part 3