Hello and a big high five from MOAN DAY. That’s right, Monday is here, but are we sad? No! (Well, a little… but we have coffee.)
If you do have a case of the Monday blues, hopefully there’s a little something below to cheer you up 😉
The Ties That Bind
She was dressed in a teal outfit of see-through, diamond-shaped netting that displayed all of her assets in their entirety, every time she made a move. She was not wearing a shred of underwear. Breasts, nipples and a pair of reddened ass checks were on prominent display to any and all that cared to watch. As to her hands, they were fastened behind her back in a box-tie held tight by a leather thong, and her lips found themselves clutching a bright-red ball gag. If that wasn’t bad enough, someone had attached a clear Perspex tray to her abdomen, anchored upright by two clamps on the outer edge that were attached to her nipples by long silver chains. This meant any weight placed on the tray was borne by her poor, tender teats alone. Add nine small ceramic jugs of sake to the tray, and the result was a walking disaster precariously perched upon five-inch stilettos.
In her dream the floor moved in beautiful shades of turquoise green, interspersed with shoals of goldfish and bubbles. Unfortunately, walking in high heels on a constantly moving floor made her horribly dizzy. The nine flasks of warm, Japanese wine she carried on her tray were also excruciatingly heavy, and whilst the pain brought sobs to her throat, it also sent lightning bolts of desire straight through her. Her predicament was the sweetest of torments one moment and the most all-consuming agony the next. It was no wonder her feet were almost jogging forward, in her eagerness to be rid of her heavy load.
Wednesday Evening 10pm – Atlantisse Bar, London
Approaching the table, she lowered her limbs gracefully, so that her tray was at a comfortable level for the seated patrons to grasp their beverages. She had been taught well and her years of schooling were beginning to come back to her. Fight through the pain, lock it away and let the endorphins take over. As long as she kept moving, everything would be OK. If she stood still for too long, she would end up screaming. The gentleman to her left must have guessed at her pain tolerance, for he gave her a sympathetic wink and quickly whisked his drink away. Marianna would have given him a smile of gratitude, but her gag made that impossible. She dipped her eyes by way of thanks and hoped he understood. Another jug was removed, a hand crept up the inside of her thigh and two fingers tickled her sex. They fluttered along her clitoris as lightly as a butterfly, and flew away just as quickly. A hand then slapped her ass and told her to hurry up along the line before the wine cooled. She shot up with a yelp, watched in horror as seven jugs wobbled around dangerously, and breathed a sigh of relief as they settled. She didn’t want to think what might happen if she dropped them. The men and women in this room would have punishments in store for errant behaviour the likes of which were unimaginable. Marianna did not want to be at their mercy if she could possibly avoid it.
Squaring her shoulders and lifting her head, she felt her chestnut hair sweep gently around her chin. Damn Dev and Stephen for pulling her neat chignon to pieces. She hated wearing her hair down when in a submissive role. It was part of her body armour, the harsh lines of an up-do gave off a regal, don’t-touch-me air and that had all been lost in an instant. Marianna was positive she now looked like a walking billboard for a brothel, and there would be no need for flashing red lights. Her eyes were drowning in desire.
Two more flasks left her tray in fairly short order, but they came at a high price. One hand grasped at her right ass cheek and squeezed tightly, whilst a single finger circled the tight little nub of her left nipple and that light touch was the cruellest of whispers across her skin. She almost screamed behind her gag. Then she lost count of the damn flasks. There were hands all over her, fisting themselves in her hair, tugging at her dress, squeezing her breasts and pulling at her teats. The sensory overload was almost crippling to one who had been denied any kind of stimulation for so long. Her body responded by arching itself into their hands, and begging for more of the same.
In short order, two men had bent her low over the long, glass banquet table and, after spreading her legs as wide as they could possibly go, had sat down on either side of her and let their fingers have free rein. Both men were tall, well-built, stocky fellows and there was no way she was going to mess with either of them. She kept her eyes forward and her head lowered.