“First off,” said Cynthia, who was in charge of this bondage/sex party, “let’s get cleaned up.”  

How Beth and I were going to do that with our hands tied behind our backs, I didn’t know. We were already naked, so that was a step in the right direction.  

As I entered my mother-in-law's secret sex den in her basement for the first time, I saw that I had underestimated the time and money she and her deceased second husband, Julius, had put into this thing.  

The first room behind the locked door was essentially a comfy studio apartment. The bathroom area included a multi-person shower, a sink, a toilet, and a dressing/makeup table.  

There was a bed, along with easy chairs, a TV screen, and a wet bar/kitchenette. I assumed the BDSM stuff was in the next room, currently out of sight behind another locked door.   

Ostensibly, the living quarters down here were for the use of friends or relatives during long-term stays.  Considering that there was a dungeon in the next room, I figured this was, in reality, a cozy nook for rest and relaxation in between rounds of debauchery. I pictured orgy participants nesting down here while naked, or bound, or both, for hours or days at a time. 

There was also a large closet with various pieces of clothing and footwear. I couldn’t make it all out, but I remembered Beth saying that her mother and stepfather sometimes added costumed role-play to their carnal sessions down here. 

They also sometimes added Beth to that mix. 

A little explanation is in order: 

When Beth had described those sessions on the drive over, she gave few details but insisted that, while she and her mother would both have sex with Julius, often at the same time, actual intimate relations between the women themselves had always been limited. 

Limited to binding each other, sometimes while naked. 

Limited to applying sexual devices—vibrators, clamps, and such—to each other, also while naked.

Limited to hugs and kisses. Again, while naked. 

She claimed it never went farther, but gave no details, so I assumed she meant they avoided cunnilingus, fingering, or pegging with strap-ons dildos, and such. I wasn’t convinced I was getting the whole truth; perhaps she was trying to avoid scandalizing me too much.  

On this Friday evening, during a bondage-tinged dip in the hot tub, Cynthia had taken command of our threesome for the night.  

That was agreeable, seeing as how she was the experienced one at all this and we were on her turf. By agreement, Beth would assume control on Saturday, and I would call the shots on Sunday. 

That was assuming that forty-some hours from now I'd have any energy or semen left; these women were proving to have voracious appetites for sex and bondage games. 

As we entered the bath area, Beth was in front of me and used the hands that were bound behind her back to grab my genitals—gently—and lead me into the luxurious shower while Cynthia turned on some light, sexy instrumental music and disrobed. The mature redhead plucked the knots of her string bikini and flung it off, displaying her shaved pussy and luscious nipples. They were as nice as I remembered.

We had been outside using the pool and hot tub while sensually teasing each other—well, mostly the women teased me, as the newcomer to this group—and we wanted to clean off the chlorine and sweat.  

Once in the shower, Cynthia unclipped the leather cuffs from behind my back and re-clipped them to a chain hanging from the ceiling. She did the same with Beth.

Yes, the shower, like the jacuzzi outside, had anchor points for bondage.

All this time, our cuffs, which were leather straps buckled onto our wrists, were secured with simple carabiner clips that could be snapped on and off easily, even by the “captive” currently wearing them. So, we weren’t truly and helplessly bound. 

Not yet; I assumed that more stringent restraints would come later, as this novice to BDSM  got accustomed to them. I also assumed there would be some torment and light torture involved.  

I was putting a lot of trust in these ladies to not go too far. 

The shower—roomy enough for four or more people—had multiple nozzles on three sides and at two levels; standard overhead and waist level.  When Cynthia turned on the water, it was a light, warm mist that surrounded us.  

Wow, I thought, this was very sensuous; unlike showering with a lover in a standard unit, no one was standing out of the water at any time, getting cold and awaiting their turn in the water stream. 

As the only one with free hands, Cynthia set herself to the task of washing the three of us in the light mist. She poured liquid soap on a terry cloth mitt, stepped back, and sensuously rubbed it over her lightly-tanned skin.

Obviously, she was going to start by washing herself.

We watched the suds pile up and then trickle over and down her DD breasts and the other delicious curves of her toned body.

The lady put on a teasingly erotic show for us; while the hand with the mitt was soaping, her free hand was pinching her nipples and wandering down to her private parts. She wiggled along to the sensuous music playing in the background, like a nude belly dancer.

Then she took it up a notch.

Cynthia sat down on a bench built into one of the sides, spread her legs, and directed a hand-held, pulsing spray directly onto her twat with one hand, and pressed a waterproof vibrator onto her clit with the other.

The gadgets seemed to arouse the mature redhead very much. So did the attention that her bound daughter and son-in-law were giving her.  

Cynthia smiled when she saw my rising cock and Beth's hardening nipples. My wife was also rubbing her upper thighs together in an attempt to stimulate her clit.

I was a little surprised at her reaction. 

Obviously, Beth had seen her mother naked many times during the intimate sessions down here. Maybe she had even seen her do this sexy little soap dance. But, maybe my wife's motor was cranking up at the thought of sharing Cynthia with me and sharing me with Cynthia, all for the first time. 

After a couple of minutes of this, Cynthia rose to attend to Beth and me.

With our wrists connected to the overhead chains, we two could rotate in place so that Cynthia could scrub every inch of our naked bodies with a pair of soap mitts. We squirmed around in the light spray, our three sets of skin sliding deliciously against each other.  

It was wet and slippery fun, but the constant delay in my gratification was becoming progressively frustrating.  

You see, to keep ourselves fresh, Beth and I had refrained from sex the previous few days at home. Then, on the drive over here, Beth had given me a teasingly incomplete hand job in the car. In the jacuzzi outside, my cock had been lubed up and caressed by this marvelous cougar.

And now, we were being seduced here in the shower by this licentious lady with skin, suds, and water.  

At this point, I was standing back-to-back with Beth, and my hard dick was sticking out, all alone and unattended. I couldn’t see what Cynthia was doing to her daughter, but from the sounds and movement behind me, I knew they were doing something.  

I was reaching the peak of arousal; if someone didn’t touch me, or if I couldn’t touch someone in the next couple of minutes, I was going to freak out. I think Beth was feeling the same. 

As if she read our minds (and when it came to sex, I think she actually could ), Beth’s mother placed a long belt around our combined waists, pinning the three of us together tightly, putting herself into a form of bondage with us. 

Cynthia was now flush against our sides. Beth and I were facing outward, our hands still secured over our heads.  

Cynthia's hands were free, however. Reaching back for a bottle of the waterproof lubricant she had demonstrated in the hot tub, she poured some into her hands and proceeded to fulfill our wishes.   

We were touched.  

The sudden, oily contact of her hand on my dick was electric, making my legs shake for a moment. I felt Beth let out a similar jerk. Fortunately, the chains that held us up were sturdy and Cynthia had braced for the sudden movement. 

The woman caressed my genitals with an amazing, instinctively sensual touch. I could not see Beth, but from the sounds and the squirming coming from behind me, I deduced that Cynthia was pressing the vibrator she had used earlier on herself directly onto my wife’s clitoris.  

“Sorry for the long build-up,” Cynthia whispered over the light warm spray that surrounded us in a cocoon of sensuality. “You two both deserve this. Relax and enjoy. Cum anytime you want.”  

With that, she started pumping my cock in earnest. 

Helpless to assist or interfere, I closed my eyes and settled into a hedonistic haze, surrendering to the heavenly sensations in my cock.

The pressure in my groin built. I started moaning, my breaths coming in gasps. I heard Beth doing the same behind me as her ass wriggled against my upper thighs.  

Then I couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood pumping through my eardrums. I felt Beth jerk and writhe behind me and knew she had orgasmed, explosively.  

My similarly massive climax overtook me just a couple of heartbeats later, as waves and waves of ejaculate shot from my loins. My body jerked and grunts emanated from deep in my throat. The feeling was intense, almost painful.  

As our mutual earthquakes subsided, Beth and I were both trying to get our legs steady underneath us. Cynthia was helping in the effort, holding on tight to the two of us, her arms around our torsos.  

As I caught my breath, I managed a simple, “That was … that was ... wow.” 

Beth said, “Yeah, jeez, mom...” 

Cynthia lightly wiped my chest with the portion of my semen that had stuck to her hand—the rest was on the shower wall in front of me. 

I assumed Cynthia was doing the same with the fluids from her daughter’s vagina, as Beth does have a tendency to squirt a bit when she gets a solid orgasm. 

“Look what you kids did,” Cynthia said with a chuckle. “Now we have to clean up all over again.” 

That sounded like a typical mother and it got a laugh. 

---------------------------- 

Released from bondage, the three of us washed ourselves again, this time in a more conventional fashion.  

(Although can you really call it “conventional” when you’re kissing and caressing in a post-orgasm afterglow with your wife and her mother in a shower built for sex and sensuality?)  

We had everything we needed at hand here in the basement, so we stayed down below. After toweling off, the ladies put on very short satin robes from the closet. No robe for me; I was still under Cynthia’s orders on this first night, and she wanted me naked. 

So, I made us some drinks while the ladies dried their hair and reapplied their makeup. That took a while, so I settled onto one of the easy chairs and dozed off. In my defense, I had had a full day at work and a hell of an erotic adventure already this evening. 

When I woke up, Cynthia was dressed in a black lace bodysuit with an open-mesh pattern that accentuated her womanly charms. It had an open crotch, as well; I’m sure she didn’t want a little fabric to slow her down when she was ready to make her move. Black, high-heeled boots, long black gloves, and dark dramatic makeup completed the Dominatrix look.

Beth was naked except for a choker around her neck and high-platform shoes that were firmly strapped onto her feet. She rarely wore high heels; those tall pumps made my wife about my height, which was going to be fun. 

We two were then fitted with fresh, dry leather bands on our wrists and ankles. This time, Cynthia connected our wrist cuffs behind us with padlocks, not the simple, easy-to-remove clips as before.  

Our bondage getting more serious.

And so was Cynthia.  

She took one of the keys to our locks and, looking directly into my eyes, scraped its sharp ridges back and forth over her own erect nipples. She let out a guttural sigh as the discomfort elicited a masochistic thrill. 

This was a private message to me; when I had found her in self-bondage the previous weekend, I had boldly teased her with the same key over the same nipples in the same manner, causing a similar sensation in this horny MILF. 

But then she turned the key around and did the same to one of my nipples. The scraping was not hard, but not soft; I remained stoic under the light torment.  

Cynthia then steadied my cock in one hand and lightly scraped that key along the underside of my shaft. She increased the pressure until I reacted.

Finally, I let out a little groan and shiver. The redhead smiled. 

It was a signal that the tables had turned, that it was my turn to “suffer” in bondage. She put the keys on a silver chain that went around her lovely neck.

It was time to kick things up a notch.  

Time to finally enter my mother-in-law's infamous dungeon.