“I understand you were disappointed in my blowjob skills last week,” Cynthia said, slapping my cock around; I couldn’t stop her, as I was strapped tight to her X-cross. Neither could Beth, bound to a vibrating sex machine.
“Let’s try again, shall we?” my lusty mother-in-law asked.
The red-headed vixen was referring to our encounter the previous weekend when I found her in a botched self-bondage session on her bed.
At her request, along with the long-distance permission and encouragement of my wife, I had let her taste my cock and then fucked her, letting her live out her fantasy of being a bound sex captive.
“That’s not fair, Cynthia,” I said, watching her drop to her knees below where I stood, my arms and legs stretched out to the four corners of the St. Andrew’s Cross in her subterranean dungeon.
“I merely said that you were at a disadvantage since you were on your back and didn’t have use of your hands. Beth assures me that you are one of the best in … oh, fuck me, that is nice.”
The break in my train of thought was caused by Cynthia starting the blowjob by holding my penis up straight so she could rub her thumb across the sensitive underside of my glans, already lubricated by my pre-cum. At the same time, she was sucking one of my testicles into her mouth and doing something with her tongue that sent shivers down my spine.
My legs got a little shaky from the sudden, eminently enjoyable sensation. I was glad to be secured to something sturdy.
Beth, meanwhile, was watching us from the Sybian she was kneeling on and straddling, just a few feet away. The rubber nubs on the top that made contact with her pussy were vibrating and squirming, clearly arousing my new wife. She was secured to a padded framework that held her firmly in place on the electric sex machine.
Neither of us needed to be bound, as we were consensually (and sensually) enjoying the action, but the restraints made it more adventurous, more fun.
Just like my wife had promised.
Earlier, at dinner, Cynthia had explained her theory about such playful bondage; she opined that too many people have a deep-seated sense that having sex purely for pleasure is somehow immoral or dirty.
“When one is tied up,” she pointed out, “any silly sense of guilt goes away; at that particular moment in time, you really have no choice but to relax and enjoy it, do you? And since we have a fully-equipped sex dungeon in the basement under us, it would be a waste not to try it out.”
Right?
Of course, right.
My mother-in-law is always right about sexual matters.
---------
Cynthia, Beth, and I had started the evening upstairs a couple of hours earlier with some fun three-way flirting during that dinner. That was followed by a bit of giddy groping and horseplay in her pool, then some intense genital fondling under the bubbling waters of the hot tub in her backyard.
That last activity was performed with my wife and me in mild bondage, lubricated with adult beverages and … well, actual waterproof lube.
I was pretty much a novice to BDSM, but I was warming up to the concept.
The protracted sexual teasing then led to a bound hand job for Beth and me, courtesy of her mother, in the large shower in the studio apartment in her basement.
After we three dried off and rested a bit, Beth and I were shackled, and only after that did I finally get my first look at Cynthia’s dungeon; the one that Beth, her mother and her step-father Julius, had played in, prior to his death a year previously.
It was … impressive.
On the drive over to her mother’s luxurious house, Beth had playfully insisted on calling it an “erotic playroom.”
Now, I will admit it was clean and neat and sensuous and smelled good, but ...
Oh, yeah, was definitely a freakin’ dungeon.
Upon entrance, the first thing to catch my eye was a giant X-frame on the far wall—a Saint Andrew’s Cross, I think they call it—with multiple leather shackles. A person strapped into that bad boy was vulnerable to all kinds of indignities and was not getting loose until his captors took pity on him.
Well-organized racks of bondage accessories like chains, ropes and whips—plus a bunch of other items I could not immediately identify—lined the opposite wall.
On the floor between them were several benches and chairs in different shapes and configurations, many padded with black leather.
Other gadgets and pieces of furniture were covered in sheets, possibly to be revealed only when needed; I was realizing that the two ladies in my life liked to spring fun little surprises, especially when it came to putting me in sexual situations.
(The ladies would not admit it, but I think they might have conspired to maneuver me into the situation where I found her mother in a self-bondage session the previous Saturday. That led to me fucking her, which in turn led to this weekend’s extended bondage sex party for us three.)
Overhead, chains dangled from pulleys and powered hoists that were attached to beams in the ceiling.
Mounted on a side wall was a large TV screen, currently showing only images of lovers in blurred shadows, writhing sensually, to set the mood. It was the primary source of light for the room. Sensuous music was also playing from hidden speakers.
Beth was naked, with her hands secured behind her back with leather wrist cuffs. So was I. Cynthia was enticingly dressed in an open-mesh, black lace body suit.
The whole scene was fantastic.
Cynthia and her late second husband had put a lot of money into this set-up. A pity that Julius was no longer around to enjoy it. I was going to have to do my best to fill his shoes.
I didn’t have a lot of time to examine the room in detail, as the action immediately started with Cynthia hugging her daughter as they shared an intimate, lingering kiss.
When they stepped apart, Beth’s hands were free from the confinement behind her; Cynthia had undone them during the smooch. My wife was still wearing her wrist cuffs and was under her mother’s control; this action was apparently only to allow Beth to help in my subsequent bondage.
The two got me strung up, eagle-spread, on the X-cross. My ankle cuffs were linked to simple rings set on the bottom two posts. My wrist cuffs, however, were attached to cords looped through pulleys on the top of the beams.
The women pulled on the cords, then locked them down so that I was stretched out tightly. Apparently, the cross could accommodate many wingspans and many levels of stress on the occupant’s limbs.
“I thought you said this place didn’t have a torture rack,” I playfully complained to Beth.
“This is just a vertical immobilization device,” she replied with a grin. “Wait ‘til you see my plans for a real old-style stretching torture rack. It’ll come complete with thumb screws and red-hot pokers.”
(My engineer wife had designed, built, or modified some of the sex and bondage toys in this house. And she had utilized them in BDSM games with her mother and Julius in the past, before she met me, and of course, before he died in a car accident.)
“A torture rack?” Cynthia wondered, looking around the room. “I don’t know where we’d put it, honey. I might have to open a new wing or use one of the spare bedrooms.”
Now that I was spread out and bound, the two women kissed me, rubbed their bodies against mine, and gave my cock and balls some teasing caresses. It was a promise of pleasures to come, I assumed.
Well, I was hoping for pleasure instead of the opposite; this was a dungeon, after all.
“Be right back, stud,” cooed my red-headed mother-in-law with a final stroke on the head of my cock.
Yeah, I was going to be alright.
Cynthia then led her daughter over to a gadget on the floor nearby. They called it a sybian, a machine shaped like a miniature Quonset hut with a small rubber pad and a short protrusion on the top. Beth knelt down and straddled it, sitting on the pad and easing the dildo into her already wet pussy.
The machine sat on a metal framework designed for binding the occupant onto it. Beth’s arms were pulled out straight behind her shoulders and her cuffs were attached to a pole behind her.
This position forced her to bend forward a bit, ensuring her pelvis was pushed downward and in firm contact with the Sybian.
Her calves and ankles were also strapped down to the base, keeping her from rising off it even a bit. The position looked stressful, but Beth is a slim, flexible young woman who was obviously enjoying the restraints.
The restraints weren’t necessary to the Sybian’s operation—obviously, one could use the machine without them—but the bondage seemed to rev my wife’s sexual engine. Her hips were undulating and her pussy was practically creaming before the thing was even turned on.
Cynthia held up a remote control for the Sybian and with a bit of a flourish, switched it on and set it on low. A soft growl from deep in my wife’s throat told me the gadget was performing as designed.
With her daughter secured and occupied, her mother then turned her attention to me.
That’s when, as I recounted before, she kidded me, with a sly smile on her face, about my semi-disparaging comment on her previous blowjob. The mature redhead set out to prove me wrong.
And she certainly did.
Cynthia was indeed an accomplished fellatrix, using her mouth, hands and tits as precision tools to tease and stimulate my entire groin. She played my body like a virtuoso would perform on their favorite instrument, with devilish skill.
I say devilish, because she made it clear I was not going to be ejaculating in this position, in this way. Cynthia was in charge down here tonight and had other plans for my cock this evening.
(By agreement, Beth would be in command the following night, Saturday, and I would call the shots on Sunday. That's assuming I’d have any juice or energy by that time; these ladies hadn’t used this dungeon in over a year, and seemed determined to make up for lost time.)
As Cynthia expertly sucked, licked and stroked me, Beth was moaning and writhing on the Sybian.
Well, writhing as much as her strict bondage would allow; she was firmly settled on the vibrating, squirming nubs that were relentlessly building her arousal.
For the next few minutes, our hostess/tormentress divided her time between the two of us, pausing in her blowjob of me to wander over to Beth. She would kiss her and tweak her nipples, then return and do the exact same things for me.
A couple of times during this teasing period, Cynthia used her remote control to crank the Sybian to full power, causing her daughter to gasp and squirm. Those intervals were brief; far too fleeting to allow her daughter to reach a much-desired climax.
(Apparently, the ladies had used this thing before, and her mother knew just how much to vary the power to keep the girl’s sexuality on a high simmer. Beth’s breathing was getting deep, and a thin layer of sweat was building up on her skin.)
After a while, Cynthia put her hands on her hips and said, “You know, I haven’t had an orgasm yet this evening, and that’s just so fucking unfair. I think it’s time for you two to get to work and help me remedy that.”
Releasing Beth from the machine—and giving her daughter a minute to get her legs underneath her—the pair of women removed me from my cross to set up the next round of debauchery.
------------------
The women laid me down on a sturdy, padded table about nine feet long and three feet wide, equipped with multiple tie-down points along the lower edges. They reattached my wrist cuffs to two such rings on each side of me, across from my hips.
A collar was placed around my neck and a rope led from it to a point on the top end of this bondage platform. They then connected a rope to each of my ankle cuffs and tied those cords down to two rings on the bottom end. They put a pillow underneath my head to raise it a bit, to give me a better view of what was happening.
I was well-secured, but more comfortable than I had been on the X-cross. The ladies were about to make me even more ... comfortable.
Beth stood beside my crotch, put some lube on my cock and masturbated me with her hands. Cynthia stepped up near my head and, pulling the fabric of her bodysuit down from her chest, stuck her marvelous double-D breasts in my face.
Without prompting, I licked and sucked at her nipples, feeling them get rigid in my mouth.
Blinded by boobs, I could not see it, but I could now feel Beth swirling her tongue around my cock, licking and sucking it like a Popsicle.
Once it reached full hardness, I felt something else going on down there. I recognized the sensation; Beth was placing a silicone cock ring at the base of my penis.
We two had used a similar gadget in the past; the constricting band would keep me firm, and the vibrating nubs around the perimeter would stimulate the clit of a woman riding my shaft.
I guessed that Cynthia would be the first to mount me, since she hadn’t gotten her rocks off yet this evening. That was assuming the red-headed cougar hadn’t secretly rubbed one out somewhere along the way.
(I wouldn’t have put it past her; the sexy vixen seemed to be making up for lost time after going into celibate mode, and being anti-social, after Julius’s death.)
Sure enough, it was Cynthia that climbed on top of me. The crotchless nature of her lingerie meant the dame didn’t even have to slow down to uncover her beautiful, bare pussy.
Her cunt and my cock were both wet and ready for action. The lady settled onto my rod with a sigh and a big smile.
I had “forcefully” fucked her on her back once before, but this was her turn to be on top; I think she greatly enjoyed controlling the speed and depth of the action. The vibrating cock-ring buzzing her clit didn’t hurt, either.
As for me, I found it both exhilarating and somehow relaxing to give a woman pleasure by simply lying underneath her with a firm dick, helpless to control events.
Meanwhile, Beth was standing beside me, using one hand to play with my nipples and the other to play with her own clit. Cynthia noticed and warned her not to climax; our hostess had other plans in mind for that.
I admired Cynthia’s firm, luscious DD breasts bouncing enticingly as she settled into the instinctual love-making rhythm of the human species. In short order, my horny mother-in-law achieved a nice, shuddering orgasm.
I sensed it wasn’t the biggest one possible, that this was just a warm-up for something else. I was quickly proven correct.
“That was lovely, Christopher,” Cynthia said to me, with a motherly pat on the cheek. “Now I hope you don’t mind if I ... turn my back on you.”
Beth had obviously helped her mother do this before, because, from the ceiling, she lowered a sling over us that Cynthia used to raise herself and turned around, facing my feet. She slipped it around her back, using the webbing to lean back over my chest and supporting herself comfortably while she rode me, reverse-cowgirl style.
My cock was buried deeply inside Cynthia’s pussy as she slid up and down and fingered herself. I could tell she was enjoying my shaft and the cock-ring's vibrations, but then I felt something else going on below my waist.
With Cynthia blocking my view, I couldn’t see everything going on, but I felt my legs moving apart; it seemed the lower portion of the table could be split apart into an upside-down V shape.
I then sensed Beth stepping into the gap between my thighs and I could feel her lapping my balls, right under her mother’s crotch, with her tongue.
Damn, ladies, I thought, you two are a well-oiled team!
Speaking of oil, I then felt a lubed-up finger playing with my anus.
I’m not the biggest fan of anal penetration—when it comes to mine, at least—but Beth knew my likes and my limits. It wasn’t a deep insertion, but, at this moment, being helplessly bound and totally turned on as I was, I could have taken more penetration than usual.
I heard a buzzing and felt Cynthia jerk above me. Her luscious body was still in the way, but I think she was applying an additional vibrator to her clit.
Plus, as Beth was swirling her tongue all around our genitals, I think she might have been occasionally using her tongue to lick that same clitoris.
(Beth had claimed that she and her mother, despite binding and groping and vibrating one another during parties with Julius, had never performed actual oral sex on each other. I was becoming increasingly skeptical as I witnessed these two hot babes in action.)
At any rate, the climax that Cynthia achieved with all this activity was substantial, far greater than the earlier one. Guttural screams emanated from her throat and she damn near bounced herself off my lap with her convulsions.
Cynthia held on to the sling while she calmed down and got her breath back. Beth stepped back, put the table back...
