Bosom Bondage Buddies

by Brandy Dewinter

  

Chapter 3 - Highlights In The Dark

 

That evening I got home just before she did and was changing clothes when she came in. I had worn suntan-colored pantyhose under my suit that day and was still wearing them as I hung up my clothes.

"So, kinda getting into this, huh?" she chuckled.

"You know I sometimes wear pantyhose under my suit, when I expect to be on my feet a lot," I replied.

"Any excuse is a good one, if it turns you on," she teased.

"Leave them on, get some shorts, and we'll go for a walk."

Once again, she had pushed a hot button with me. The thought of going public in women's clothes was at once tremendously exciting, and frightening. My answering blush and bulge were clear signs her barb had struck home.

"Not in public!" I exclaimed.

"Leave them on anyway," she said, "and get some shorts."

"Your legs look good in them, though those dark hairs need to go," she continued relentlessly. "Maybe we'll go walking after dark."

By this time she had removed her skirt and started to rub her shimmering pantyhose against mine. The feel of the smooth materials sliding together brought my erection to the painful state, a fact she was quick to notice. She ground her mound up against my bulge, and laughed, stroking me lightly with her long fingers.

"I think I am going to enjoy this challenge!" she laughed.

Once again I grabbed at her, growling about a real challenge.

And once again she danced away.

"Not while you have your pantyhose on," she called from the closet where she started hanging up her clothes. "And don't you dare remove them. I want to see your smooth, shiny legs all evening."

I dug out the shortest exercise shorts I had and drew them on over my slick legs. Thinking she was still in the closet, I posed in front of the mirror, turning to see how my legs looked from behind. She walked in on this and started laughing again, though at least she said nothing. Maybe she was laughing too hard.

I grinned sheepishly, and reached for a sport shirt. "Okay, I already admitted the idea turns me on. You could at least be a little sympathetic."

Still laughing, she came to me and gave me a deep, hot kiss. "Actually," she said, "the idea turns me on, too. You know I married you so I could tease you, though."

"Really?" I replied. "I thought you married me for my money," I laughed at our old joke. My mother had been concerned that this had been the case, though Kelly had a professional job and her salary wasn't much different than my own income. Mothers-in-law are like that, I suppose.

"Well, that too," she responded, giggling.

"What do you want for supper?" she asked.

"Whatever you want, not too much though. Cutting back on supper is probably the most effective thing we could do."

"Right," she agreed, "how about just a salad?" She went off to fix it while I set the table.

As we were cleaning up after supper, she again brought up the idea of a walk. "Go get your shoes on, we need a little exercise. It's dark out, or nearly so."

I looked out at the setting sun, and thought about whether I could get away with it.

"Come on," she continued, "suntan pantyhose match your arms better than your bare legs do. No one will know."

I looked down at the highlights shimmering on my shiny legs, and decided that maybe, if I didn't get too close to anyone else, it might just look like a sheen of sweat.

"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath, "let's do it."

Our neighborhood is strictly residential, without much through traffic. As we walked along, no one seemed to pay any particular attention. After a while it became dark and the streetlights came on. Then I noticed that a single, strong light source like a streetlight really brought out the highlights on my legs. It was fascinating to see the shine flow over my legs as we walked. Realizing what I was staring at, Kelly brushed her pantyhose up against mine.

"Like that, do you?" she grinned.

My blush was the only answer.

"Let's set an intermediate milestone," she said. "When you lose 5 pounds for a week, you shave your legs."

"No," she contradicted herself with a twinkle in her laughing eyes, "even better, when you lose 5 pounds, I'll shave your legs."

I tried to cover my embarrassment with gruffness. "You're getting entirely too good at pushing my buttons," I said. "If you keep me hard for too long, I may have to give you what you're asking for."

"Promises, promises," she teased.

This time when I grabbed for her, I snagged her wrist, and pulled her to me. Capturing her other wrist, I wrapped my arms around her which pinned her arms behind her back as though they were bound. I leaned over her, bowing her back over our interlinked arms. My hot mouth smothered her full lips, and my tongue rammed into her, forcing her to submit to my passion. She gasped with her own flooding passion as her body responded to my touch.

Then I released her, and stood there smiling as she tried to catch her breath.

"Two can play the game of excitement," I grinned. "You may be able to get me so hard I have to walk bent over, but your nipples show that your body wants me just as much as I want you."

Smiling with bubbling heat behind her long lashes, she asked, "How much longer do you want to walk?"

I smiled, myself, with the fresh confirmation of her basic nature. She did indeed like to be captured and helplessly slave to her own passion. I would have to build on that. On the other hand, her current invitation was clear, and I was nobody's fool.

"Only about as long as it takes to get back to the house.

Unless you think you can run that far."

"I can outlast you any day," she challenged, and set off running toward the house.

I easily caught up to her, which was clearly her intention. We both knew it was too far to the house to sprint. However, it was far enough that setting the correct pace was an important decision. I resolved to keep up with her whatever it took. The challenge of the physical exertion quickly resolved the bulge in my pants and I was able to get into an easier stride. Soon we were approaching the house, and she began to sprint. At this point, my faster pace in the morning exercises paid off, or maybe I just had a greater incentive, and I was able to pass her and reach the house first.

Breathing heavily, and laughing like children, we entered the house. Immediately, I caught her hands again and repeated my fierce, controlling kiss.

"Now, where were we?" I asked with a smirk.

"You seem to have remembered well enough," she panted.

I captured both of her wrists in one hand, and used the other to lightly stroke one of her full breasts. Under my caress, her nipple pushed forward through the thin material of her shirt. I pulled her tee-shirt up over her head and then down her arms, where it added to the confinement she was experiencing. With each further step of control, her breathing would catch for a second, then resume, hotter and more intense. Now I lowered my lips to her hard nipple, sucking on it, then washing it with my tongue.

All the while my hold on her arms forced her back to arch into my hand, my lips, my tongue. Her breathing became rougher, gasping, panting.

"Let me catch my breath," she moaned. "I'm going to pass out if you keep this up."

"Promises, promises," I teased, lightly blowing on her nipple, which glistened from the moisture of the tongue bath I had just given it.

Without releasing my hold on her wrists, I began to work her shorts and pantyhose down off her legs. Soon they were in a puddle at her ankles, and she was effectively naked before me, with only her tee-shirt around her arms. Again I leaned over her and kissed her, forcing my pantyhose-clad leg between her legs, and rubbing the slick material against her. Her breathing was still out of control, rasping in her throat, catching for long seconds as shudders passed through her quivering body.

I lifted her legs in my free hand and carried her into the bedroom with her captured arms still held in my other hand. Laying her on the bed, I lifted her legs over my head and buried my face between her thighs. Her lower lips were glistening with her own moisture, and I blew lightly on them, which rewarded me with her shivers. Her moisture showed that she was ready for me and I could have taken her right then with her enthusiastic participation and consent. But tonight was as much for training as for pleasure and I intended to build within her body a memory of the benefits of surrender. Instead of undressing myself, I began to lick softly at her jewel, washing it with slow, gentle strokes of my tongue. With each touch, she moaned again, her chest heaving with the need to breathe, and at the same time the need to respond to my tongue.

I probed my tongue deeply within her, lapping at her nectar. Then I replaced my tongue with my lips, and began to suck on her pleasure nub. This step was too much, and she exploded in uncontrollable spasms of pleasure, arching over her held arms, lifting her hips to my lips, to the ceiling, to the sky above with her muscle-straining pulsations. I gently resumed my washing of her jewel until her shudders subsided. Then I released her arms and straddled her waist. I took her left arm and began to massage it, working out any residual muscle tension. Then I moved up to her shoulder, her neck, and repeated the massage on the other side. Throughout this slow and loving task, Kelly lay as though unconscious, limp with the aftereffects of her exertion.

I worked down her body, clinically, without attempt to revive her passion. Passing by her waist, I firmly massaged her legs to ensure that they did not cramp up after our run and the subsequent exercise. Finally I completed with her feet, and still she had said nothing, nor hardly moved. Her panting was subsiding as I finished, but she still had a small, soft smile on her lips, and was nearly asleep. I covered her with a comforter, and moved off the bed.

"Where are you going?" she asked languidly.

"Don't worry about it, just relax," I said.

I went to the kitchen to get some wine we had chilling and prepared a couple of glasses. Returning to the bedroom, I slid one pantyhose-clad leg smoothly under her head as a pillow and offered the wine to her lips. She drank greedily, dried out from her heavy breathing, then leaned back into my leg.

"That was incredible," she whispered. "I don't know whether to tease you again or not. I might not survive another experience like that."

"Oh, I expect you would," I said with a smile.

"What about you?" she asked. "This started with your excitement at wearing pantyhose in public. How are you doing?"

"Don't worry about me, m'love, I'm sure you'll figure out some way to make it up to me, someday."

"You'll spoil me rotten," she sighed.

My reward for this "sacrifice" was a warm smile, and a snuggle against my leg. I was satisfied. I had taken total control and given her pleasure without requiring action on her part, except to accept my love and to allow her body to respond. This is the essence of the master/slave relationship. One surrenders control, one exercises it. Her languid acceptance, even belief that I was spoiling her by making her a slave would form the basis for ever more control. Her nature was as I had thought, now my problem was to lead her to understand it as well. Finally she began to stir.

"I can't lay like this all night. We need to get ready for bed. Are you going to sleep in your pantyhose as well?" she asked.

"No, I'm in no hurry. But if you want, we can get ready to go to sleep."

As she went into the bathroom to prepare for bed, I slowly stripped off my clothes. Removing the smooth tension of the pantyhose from my legs was sharply disappointing and I affirmed in my own mind that we each had found effective incentives to lose weight, though Kelly had not begun to realize the extent of the changes coming in her life. Perhaps I had not either.

  

  

  

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