A question of bondage… and drowning

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Note: A bonus story for you by a guest author who added a juicy little story to one of my pictures I’d posted to a website.

A warm breeze caressed Theresa’s breasts, and she shivered. She was standing on the concrete apron of Jeff’s pool, still warm under her feet from the day’s recently set sun. Across the dunes and out in the channel, red and green buoys blinked to mark the way home for the small commercial and pleasure boats that tied up at Mariners Shoal Marina. A lone shrimp trawler slowly made its way in, the rumble of its engine carrying across perhaps a half-mile to where Theresa stood. A rustling behind her brought a hint of smile to Theresa’s mouth, and she shivered.

“Are you ready?” Mark’s voice was quite, just a hint of excitement carrying through. He was perhaps fifteen years older than Theresa, about forty, and had done this many times. This was a first for Theresa.

“Yes.” She glanced back over her shoulder. Mark was, like her, nude. He was of average size, perhaps five-foot-ten, lean and hard. He was carefully uncoiling a small spool of nylon cord. It looked red in the light spilling through the sliding glass doors of Jeff’s house. His penis was mostly erect. Finished with his preparations, he stepped close to her, gently urging her hands behind her back. She felt the rope wrap around her wrists, once, twice, three times; when he was done, they were comfortably but securely fixed behind her back.

Theresa had met Mark on the first day if her stay here on Myshrall’s Island. He was the social director of the club, and apparently much in demand among the single, and perhaps even the married, women vacationing at the resort.

He had seemed particularly interested in her from the first time they met, when Theresa had sought his desk to arrange a horseback tour of the island. He had needed to honor other commitments her first two days here, though. Then on the third night, he had approached her at a club cookout. Five minutes into a conversation with him, and Theresa knew she would sleep with him. When he had asked her if she had ever tried shibari or other bondage an hour after that, Theresa had answered honestly, “No,” but knew that by the end of this trip she would have something different to say.

The next night had been more of a traditional date, and Mark hadn’t asked to sleep with her. He had kissed her as they parted for the night, though, and that night she had lain in bed awake with anticipation of their next meeting, imagining being tied up and helpless while his skilled lips sought out her sensitive areas for soft kisses. Very moist, she had eventually needed to finger her clit, stroking up and down, sometimes letting two fingers slide into her pussy, before finding enough relief in the orgasm to get to sleep.

Now, Mark kissed his way across the back of her shoulders even as he tightened doubled loops of rope above and below her breasts, trailing his fingernails softly over the curve of her ass, up the sides of her breasts, and across the newly-shaven area above her pussy. A little moan of pleasure escaped her, louder when he pulled part of his knotwork up between her legs between the lips of her pussy.

Mark knelt to finish his work by tying her ankles together, careful to keep a hand always positioned to steady her, but also to caress her bare skin. It crossed Theresa’s mind to wonder how he intended to fuck her like this. Mark seemed to anticipate the question.

“I don’t always finish these sessions by making love. That’s not always what excites me the most.”

Puzzled, Theresa forgot about how wet and needy her pussy was. “No? What is?”

“Watching women drown.” He gave Theresa a shove, and she toppled into the pool. Her surprised gasp was carried away by the gentle sea breeze.
Shocked, Theresa tried to catch a breath, but only got a mouthful of water. She choked, and struggled to get her feet under her. Each time she felt the pool’s bottom under her, Mark’s hands expertly caught her shoulders or hair, steering her off balance. Panicking, Theresa thrashed about, realizing that the harder she fought, the faster she would use her oxygen up.

A roaring built in her ears as fire caught at her chest. Desperately, Theresa tried to shake loose from Mark’s strong grip, while the pressure in her lungs demanded more and more of her attention.

At some point, she had to start letting the stale air in her lungs out as a stream of bubbles. It eased the burning, but she lost her buoyancy, sinking to lie on her back on the bottom of the pool.

At some point, she could no longer fight off the urge to take a breath. The pool water was like acid in her lungs, the agony of the breath drowning out all other thought until encroaching blackness choked out her awareness. She went still, no longer aware of Mark’s face looking down at her from his perch on the edge of the pool.

On the side of the pool, Mark unclenched his jaw, the thrill of the moment having made him clamp his teeth together. Glancing back between his legs, he thought he could see a puddle of his semen on the concrete in the half-light. Mark was crouched on his hands and knees. He hadn’t touched himself, but as had happened twice before, the realization that the beautiful woman below him had gone still was punctuated by a series of powerful squeezes from his cock, and the sensation of warm jets squirting out. He knew that in a few minutes, panic would strike as he began to worry about getting caught. Had someone noticed them together? Would three disappearances be enough to set the police after him specifically? Could he hide Theresa’s body in the deep part of the marsh creek where he had sunk the other two without drawing attention?

For the moment, those worries weren’t strong enough to totally drown out the thrill of the moment, and he turned his attention back to the beautiful, peaceful form drifting on the bottom of the pool below him. Beautiful, just beautiful…

Sighing, he stood and went in search of paper towels to clean his mess. He knew nobody could see into his compound unless they were in the channel below him with a night-vision telescope, but nevertheless, he turned out the lights, and walked back through the warm evening breeze to begin straightening up the aftermath of his evening’s adventure.

(2017 by CS Fisher)

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