Pleasure Bound

By Erin Cane

*ADULT CONTENT*

Brittany is an attractive and business-savvy young woman with a strong sex drive—bordering on addiction. Her job demands that she is always in control, so she longs for the times when she can give up all control. That’s why she seeks the bondage route to satisfy her needs. She has a healthy relationship with her boyfriend, Rodney, who is more than willing to tie her up and pleasure her at will.

However, Brittany always wants more. She decides that she would like to somehow end up in some strange place, bound, not knowing how she got there, and play the role of sex slave. Rodney agrees to introduce her to his psychiatrist friend, Dr. Jenkins, to see if he can make her fantasy come true by hypnotizing her.

Her sex life changes dramatically after the meeting—but to whose advantage? Will Brittany get to be the sex slave she desires to be, or will Dr. Jenkins use his influence over her to achieve his own questionable objectives?

• Language: English
• Publisher: thewordverve inc
• Release date: Mar 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781941251850

Book preview

1

Brittany felt the cold, metal handcuffs squeezing against her wrists as the police officer pushed her into the cell. She fell forward onto an old, iron cot covered with a hard mattress. She heard the door slam shut behind her. She immediately stood back up and ran toward the gray bars, shouting out to the retreating officer, Why are you locking me up? I haven’t done anything!

No response.

Exasperated, she cried out again, At least take off the handcuffs and give me some clothes! Please!

She listened intently, hoping to hear footsteps coming back in her direction, but all she heard were more slamming doors. She was left alone in her cell—cold, handcuffed, and completely naked. She slowly walked back to the cot and sat down. She felt an aching in her loins, and she wondered how she could be horny at a time like this. The covering on the cot had a rough texture, and it tickled her between her legs. She spread them slightly and rocked back and forth, putting more and more pressure on the itchy blanket with each thrust. She felt her body heating up, and her breathing becoming more labored . . .

Hi . . . Uh, I could come back later . . .

Brittany looked up and saw the woman on the other side of her desk staring at her.

Oh, I’m sorry. I was daydreaming. She sat up straight in her chair and unconsciously straightened her hair.

Yes, I can see that. Like I said, I could stop by later.

"No, now is fine, thank you . . . er, it’s Cristal, isn’t it?

Yes, I work just down the hall. I got some of your mail by mistake, and I wanted to make sure you got it right away.

Why, thank you. Brittany reached for the envelopes and noticed Cristal’s hand shaking slightly. Well, I don’t mean to be rude, Brittany said, but I have a few things to wrap up before I get out of here, so . . .

Ah, understood, Cristal said. I’m the same way at the end of a long work day—you know, anxious to get home. She hesitated for a moment before turning around and walking toward the door. You know—

Thanks again, Brittany replied and began looking at some loose paperwork on her desk.

Cristal walked out of the office, gently closing the door behind her. As soon as she was out of sight, Brittany packed up her belongings and did the same.

So, Brittany, you’re not going straight home, are you? A couple of us are going to the pub for happy hour. Would you like to come with us? Curt asked.

No, thanks, I’ve got too many things to do.

Better things than hanging out with your friends? He smiled at Brittany.

Well, nothing’s better than being with you guys. She rolled her eyes jokingly. I just have a project that I’ve been working on, and I have to finish it up. A rain check, maybe?

Absolutely. We’ll see you next time, I hope.

Thanks for the invite. See you on Monday.

Yeah, see ya.

Brittany liked, but did not love, her job at the advertising agency in Atlanta. She was the manager of the largest sales area, encompassing one of the busiest business districts in the city. That made her a bit of a control freak, and many of her employees sometimes viewed her as a bitch. When her employees or the managers from other departments asked her out, even in a group setting, it was not always because they liked her. It was often because they wanted her; she was a conquest in many people’s minds—men and women. Besides being loathed for any number of professional reasons, like micromanaging, she was seen much differently on a physical level. The women in the agency couldn’t help but notice how she maintained a perfect figure, a light tan coating a well-toned body, luxurious blond hair . . . and those eyes. There was something about her light-blue, piercing eyes. They seemed to glare out malevolently if anyone crossed her, or even if they stared at her for too long. But there was also a softness in them that almost made her seem vulnerable, exposed. Men noticed the eyes too. But mostly they noticed all the other things. They tried not to stare too obviously at her ample breasts and how her cleavage slid naturally, yet seductively, into her crisp, low-cut shirt. They smiled at each other as she bent over, her short skirt pressing firmly against her tight, well-rounded buttocks. For most of the men at the office, her eyes simply completed the package; they complemented her fine features and flawless skin. They were the cherry on top of the sundae.

On that particular Friday, Brittany wasn’t interested in who was looking at her, or why. She left work that day with hurried steps, eyes straight ahead, barely noticing the people on the streets or on MARTA, the public transport system in Atlanta. Brittany had made some modifications on her home project, and she was anxious to get home and try them out. On herself.

Like many people who end up in any kind of sales position, successful or not, Brittany originally had other career aspirations. She was an inventor, and had earned an engineering degree from MIT. The problem was, though Brittany’s secondary interest was inventions, her primary interest was sex. At the time, she couldn’t reconcile within herself a game plan whereby she could combine the two and earn a reasonable income. So she oversaw advertising sales during the day, and worked on her sex machine at home whenever she could.

When Brittany arrived at her house, she was so excited about the prospects of her project in the basement that she could barely steady her hands enough to put the key in her door lock. Her cool, crisp demeanor had faded away in the half hour since she had left the office. She was no longer in control, and that feeling of letting go of the reins, so to speak, was what she constantly ached for. She locked the front door, secured the deadbolt, dropped her purse on the floor, and quickly headed toward the basement, her favorite room in the house.

She kicked off her black heels, then loosened her shirt, taking some of the pressure off of her swelling breasts. She practically stumbled down the steps. Then she unlocked the door to her special place—her playroom—and excitedly strode inside.

With her back to the door, she silently faced her newest invention: a large, steel table, upon which was attached a thin cushion, tightly covered with black leather. There were shiny chrome clamps, motors, and switches, most of them at the head of the cushion. It was partly queen-sized bed and partly rocket science. Her eyes slowly traveled across the length of the device as she removed her clothes. She walked almost reverently to the machine. She was now completely naked, with her work clothes in a crumpled heap behind her on the carpeted floor. She gently traced her delicate fingers across the cold steel, the shiny black leather, and the wrist and ankle cuffs protruding from the machinery that was built into the top and bottom corners of the bed. She unconsciously massaged her breasts and then her shaved genital area, as she tinkered with some of the knobs and dials on her sex machine. It was clearly time to test the new vibration settings she had added to the leather-covered mattress. She excitedly turned around from the machine and walked into her basement shower.

Brittany knew how this would play out to some extent. She would slowly lather up every inch of her luscious body, and then rinse off in the hot, steamy shower. She would drink about half a glass of cabernet while drying off, making sure she looked her best, which took almost no effort. Then she would carefully strap herself into her machine. Slowly. Ever so slowly. Exacting complete control while simultaneously giving up all control. And then he would arrive, and he would add to her pleasure. In whatever way he chose, because then he would have all the control.

The clock in the basement had been purposely moved so she couldn’t see it from her supine position on the black leather cushion. This was by design; it heightened her suspense by not knowing how much time had passed, forcing her to live in the moment. It made her senses more acute, and the sensations more alive. However, it was important for her to have any necessary accessories nearby as she strapped herself in, so the ball gag and the remote control were positioned on a small table beyond her right shoulder, just within her reach.

She checked the clock one last time. He would be here in less than half an hour. She was ready.

Brittany lay back on the cool, black leather, positioning herself in the middle of the mattress. Then she slowly sat up, reached forward, and applied a thick, black leather cuff to her right ankle. She pulled on the strap until it was tight, carefully buckling herself in. She had to stretch a little farther to secure her left ankle, but it, too, was soon tightly attached. Her legs were widely spread, so she gave herself a couple of minutes for her muscles to stretch before she continued.

While she was waiting, she inserted the shiny, red ball gag between her parted lips and buckled the thin leather strap snugly behind her head. She was already getting wet down below, and she still had to attach her breasts and wrists to the machine.

Finally, she pulled up two thin, leather collars that were connected to each side of the steel table. She gently placed one collar over each breast, sliding the straps all the way down and adjusting them to fit tightly around her glistening orbs. Then she attached the two sides to each other with a set of metal snaps in the middle. Her breasts already ached for sexual release. A fine sheen of sweat covered her whole body now, and her rock-hard nipples protruded straight toward the mirrored ceiling above. Now there was just one final, important matter of business to attend to before she strapped in her wrists, making her completely helpless: the controls. They were the heart, if not the soul, of Brittany’s sex machine.

She took the small remote control off of the table and carefully held it in her right hand. Aiming it at her bound feet, she pressed an arrow-shaped button until, one foot at a time, the metal wires attached to her ankle cuffs were drawn into the machine at the bottom of the mattress. This tightened the machine’s hold on her body, from her ankles to her breasts, and spread her legs out even more. Brittany was getting short of breath from her increased level of excitement, and she knew she would have to act quickly. She didn’t want to stop her self-bondage now, even though she wanted to cum so badly. With another quick gesture of the remote, Brittany activated a telescoping rod that inched forward from a large motor at the center of the foot of the bed. At the end of the rod was a large, clear, rubber dildo with over a hundred raised circles around it, each about half a centimeter wide—small bumps to stimulate her vaginal walls when it was inserted within her. The phallus vibrated slightly as it inched its way toward her wet vagina. Brittany continued pressing on the remote until the rod had reached its entire length and the dildo was all the way inside her. She gasped into the ball gag as the stiff, rubber penis traveled the final few inches, sending out low frequency pulses that covered her entire body in goose bumps and made her even wetter inside. Once she hit the main control button, there would be a five-minute lag before the vibrating dildo would start to slowly work its way in and out of her vagina. And if her new adjustments worked as well as she had planned, the huge network of wires just beneath the black leather mattress would start vibrating at the same time, massaging her entire bound body from beneath. Once she placed both of her wrists into the leather-lined, steel cuffs at the top corners of the table, they would self-adjust. She had attached a small hook into the metal base at the top of the machine, just above the right wrist cuff, upon which she would eventually hang the remote control. All was ready.

Brittany stretched her arms above her head and placed her wrists into the mechanical cuffs, one by one. Each made a whirring sound as it clamped down securely on the end of each of her arms. She was now a prisoner of her own device, clamped down by her wrists, ankles, and even her breasts. Shaking with excitement, she looked up into the mirrored ceiling, barely recognizing herself; she was completely lost in the feeling of helplessness and anticipation. The dildo was hidden deep inside her. The bright-red ball gag shone brightly in the darkened room.

Brittany pressed the main control button on the remote, setting up the time sequence, and reached up with her right hand to hang it onto its hook. She was still shaking so much that she had a hard time getting it secured properly. She fumbled with it and missed the hook over and over again. All of a sudden the mattress beneath her started vibrating prematurely, surprising her, causing her to drop the remote. It fell down onto the metal workings at the top of the table, bounced off her right wrist cuff, and tumbled onto the carpet below.

Brittany realized in an instant that she had not calibrated the vibrating mechanism with the timer. It had started up shortly after she activated the remote control. Now she couldn’t turn off the machine or free herself right away. Normally, without the remote, she would have to wait two hours before the machine opened the wrist cuffs and disabled the rod currently positioned between her legs. It was a fail-safe system she had programmed into the sex machine, just in case—a system she had never had to use so far. And this wouldn’t be an issue for her tonight either, because he would be here soon. Another twenty minutes? Maybe ten? This was how it worked. He had a key, and he would come and find her there. He would carry a box of toys, and he would gently torment her in whatever way he wanted, for as long as he wanted. This was how the game was played. He was the master, and she was the slave.

One time he had arrived with just one item, a vibrator. He had used it to travel the length and width of her bound body, slowly rubbing it in small circles along her toes, the bottoms of her feet, her ankles, along her calves, and between her inner thighs. As she arched her back with pleasure, he had watched her intently, making sure she didn’t cum. He had bypassed her vagina and worked the vibrator along her taut belly, around her swollen breasts, spending extra time on each erect nipple. Then her neck, and back down between her legs. He touched her clitoris, ever so gently, and then pulled the vibrator away right before she came. He did this over and over again, exciting her to the point of climax and then forcing her to cool back down. Then he had started the maddening caresses all over again, tease-torturing her for hours. He would always let her come, but she always had to earn it.

Her thoughts faded away, and she was drawn back into the present. The dildo was starting to slide back out of her, slowly, ever so slowly. It began vibrating more strongly, but not enough to bring her to an immediate orgasm; she would have to wait for that. The mattress below her was pulsating at the same frequency it had started on, and would continue to do so throughout the night. Brittany twisted and turned her naked body powerlessly against the continuous onslaught of sensations beneath her. She felt a thousand fingers caressing her shoulders, her lower back, her ass cheeks, the underside of her knees. Everywhere. And as each minute crept by, ever so slowly, the fingers seemed to wrap around her arms, legs, and torso, and were now teasing the front of her body as well. She moaned helplessly against the moist ball gag as her body tensed and relaxed with each passing sensation. Brittany looked for the clock and then remembered she could see no clock. She looked up at her reflection in the ceiling mirror again. She was delirious with pleasure, anticipation, and pure lust. The large dildo pumped slowly yet determinedly between her legs. This would be how he would find her. But where was he?

Torturous minutes went by . . . or was it hours? The vibrating fingers were all around her, inside her. In her sopping wet pussy. In her swollen, aching breasts, her tight, hardened nipples. In her head.

The phone rang. She waited for the answering machine to pick up, and tried to listen over the whirring noises of the vibrators and the kchik-kchik-kchik of the thrusting dildo.

Hey, Brittany, it’s Rodney. Sorry I didn’t call earlier, but I was stuck in an important meeting. Listen, we have a bit of a crisis here at the office, so I won’t be able to come by after work tonight. You know I was really looking forward to it. Anyway, I’ll be burning the midnight oil trying to get things settled down here. But I promise I’ll at least stop by  when I’m done, no matter how late it is. I owe you one. Bye.

Brittany could scarcely process the information as her sex machine continued to pleasure her. She was alone, the remote control was out of reach, and the fail-safe device was set on a two-hour timer.

Well, that’s it then, she thought as she tugged futilely at her wrist and ankle bonds. The contoured phallus was at its slowest penetration speed, though it was now vibrating at full stimulation level. She had not wanted to come before he got there, so the setting had made sense at the time; now it was a curse. She desperately sought release from the sexual tension as it slowly worked its way in and out . . . in and out . . .

Kchik-kchik-kchik . . .

Brittany checked herself again in the mirror above her. Her cheeks were flushed bright red, and her saliva was moistening the edges of the ball gag as her deep, throaty moans tried to escape its tight embrace. Her body was reflective from sweat, and it shone even more brightly than the cold, metal machine that had become her captor. Goose bumps textured every inch of her naked skin as she contorted her bound body back and forth against the smooth black leather. The thin, leather straps still held Brittany’s swollen breasts firmly to both sides of the metal table, and her useless struggles pulled the straps tightly around them, making them swollen and red.

Her newest addition to the sex machine, the vibrating table beneath her, was working out even better than she had planned. The electronic signals had at first wrapped around her and were now also inside her—a continuous throbbing pulse that completely controlled her as she whimpered and squirmed under its powerful embrace.

Brittany had not yet released her first orgasm. It would be quite a while before that would happen. Her slick body danced helplessly to the music of her own invention. Her toes curled inward as the large, vibrating dildo slowly, slowly, slowly defined her world, and her delicate fingers reached out from solid steel cuffs for help that would never come.

Brittany still had almost two more hours to go.

Kchik-kchik-kchik . . .

2

Once the sex machine had finally turned itself off, Brittany, already exhausted from the culmination of many strong orgasms, simply fell asleep. When she opened her eyes, she was still spread-eagled on her machine, but the wrist cuffs had opened up. She was free. Stiff from being in the same position for so long—she had no idea how many hours had passed—she brought both