AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And if a hot couple were to come across the bay and try to seduce you?” sighed Jamie. “Would a horny bondage slut like you invite them home to your place?”
“In fact,” said Andre, taking his right hand out of my shirt so he could glance at his wristwatch, “I think we just missed the last BART train back to our hotel.” I could see the clock behind him; it was barely past midnight. There were lots of trains left, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
“So I have to invite you home,” I blurted. “But I don’t have a couch.” Again with the giggles. I sounded stupid. I hoped no one had a recorder going.
“We’ll figure out something,” said Andre.
I know it seems, in retrospect, like I should have known Andre and Jamie were planning to seduce me. Why else would they have crossed the bay at ten o’clock on a weeknight because they happened to be in town for Folsom Street?
But like I said. I guess I couldn’t believe a pair of mini-celebrities would be all over me like that. I mean...Jamie and Andre were Internet famous. Weren’t they out of my league?
I knew all about Jamie and Andre’s sex life and their bondage adventures; that was how I knew them. I’d been reading their bondage blog for years. The Secret Fire. It was up for a few months on some little blogging site, but somebody gave them shit for the content of the photos. They moved it to another host, then another; the URL never seemed to stay the same for very long. They got a lot of traffic, judging from the zillions of comments telling them how hot they were. An embarrassing number of them were mine.
They never charged for the blog or the photos; they never censored a thing. Except for their faces. They’d show Jamie’s pussy with Andre’s fist inside it; they’d show her flesh distended by ropes and striped by whips and canes and reddened by Andre’s hand, but they wouldn’t show their faces. The closest they’d come was to show Jamie’s gorgeous mouth up close as she screamed in orgasm. But it was never from an angle where you could have picked her out of a lineup; fans like me would probably have recognized Jamie’s uvula before we recognized her face.
I had thrilled to Jamie and Andre’s antics for more than a year. I’d gotten seriously turned on to their deeply poetic locker-room stories. I’d gotten up close and personal with my own secret flames and my even more secret parts while looking at pictures of Jamie tied to the couple’s bondage bed. Once or twice, they’d brought home another girl, but they never mentioned how they knew her—or how the seduction was accomplished.
I guessed that maybe I was in the process of finding that out.
When they tied up girls, things got nasty. Not because of Andre—because of Jamie. Andre was a sadist, but mostly he was a gentle, strong, powerful and loving bondage dominant. Jamie was a bitch. She was totally a bottom to Andre (in the bedroom, at least), but when she got her pretty little red-nailed hands on a female playmate, she was a sadist par excellence.
And not in a nice way.
In the photographs of tied-up bodies Jamie sometimes wore a hood or a mask, or was shot from the neck down. It didn’t matter to me; it wasn’t their faces that made me follow their filthy adventures with such fascination. The fact that they were both damned good-looking—which I’d just found out an hour before—was more of a surprise to me than anything else about them. They weren’t movie-star gorgeous, but they would have been hot even if ropes hadn’t been involved.
But it all ended maybe a year ago, when “Professional commitments require us to suspend the publication of The Secret Fire...” If you want to know what a geek I am, I actually screamed when I read it. I’d gotten a little obsessed with them, and thinking of living without those hot and sexy updates every few days...ugh! I sent them an email and told them so—the first email I’d ever sent a blogger. They answered and stayed in touch.
And luckily for me, I’d downloaded every last picture and cut-and-pasted the text of their two or three hundred posts into Textpad and saved them on my hard drive. I reread them; when I got an e-reader, I even figured out how to convert the text to an e-book file so I wouldn’t have to bring my laptop to bed anymore. I even resized their pics and offloaded them to my phone, so I could double-fist it if I wanted...pics in one hand, text in the other.
So yeah, I was a little obsessive about them.
That was probably made worse by the fact that for the last year I’d been willfully celibate—or, at least, I’d been abstaining from relationships. Since Jamie’s hot blog posts and photos had been my primary masturbation fodder since the death of The Secret Fire, and my primary sexual outlet was with myself...that means I’d spent the last year touching myself to a dead blog. Does that count as necrophilia?
Meanwhile, whatever bondage community I knew anything about seemed to forget that The Secret Fire had ever existed. Maybe their fifteen minutes of fame were over. Was it possible that in cosmopolitan San Francisco, I was their number-one fan?
Maybe so. When Andre emailed me that they were coming to San Francisco for Folsom Street Fair and did I want to get a drink, how could I say no?
These were Internet mini-celebrities. They were my idols. They’d stoked my own secret fire more times than I could count. I’d had orgasm after orgasm looking at pictures of Jamie’s bound body.
Looked like it was time to pay them back.
I warned them right off that my apartment is pathetic. I don’t have bondage equipment or a four-poster bed. It was pretty embarrassing. They would have been much happier playing at the house of the friend they were staying with in the Mission—hadn’t they said he had an actual dungeon?
Jamie silenced me with her hand across my mouth, while Andre grabbed my wrists and held them tight in the small of my back.
She said, “If you think we can’t tie a girl up without a formal dungeon, maybe you didn’t get the point of our blog. And besides...” She took her hand off my mouth and drew it softly down my throat. She smiled. “If you turn out to be fun to play with, maybe you’ll get an invitation to the dungeon. We’re here until Monday, after all....”
I was still thinking, Holy fuck, a real dungeon? when Jamie’s hand went tight against my throat, and she slapped my face. Heat coursed through me.
“You like that?” she asked.
I tried to nod, but she was holding me too tight. She got the picture. She slapped me again. My face got warm. She stuck her thumb in my mouth. I obediently sucked on it.
Jamie kissed me, and I practically fainted. There was something fucking hot about the way she kissed. I’d never been kissed by a girl before. Her tongue felt all supple. Her face was so smooth. This wasn’t anything like the little scratchy feeling of kissing a guy. It was hot.
While Jamie kissed me on the mouth, Andre stooped low and began kissing my neck, right where Jamie had been kissing it before.
As he did, he reached around my body and started undoing my belt.
