CHAINED HEAT
By Argus

Copyright resides with author
Available from bdsmbooks.com

I knew it was her at the door, and I felt unaccountably nervous, my chest tight. Were my dreams of bondage and hot, nasty submissive sex worth bringing to life if I had to do it with another girl? My mouth curled a little in distaste at the thought of having sex with a girl. I had no desire for lesbian sex at all. Still, the thought of being dominated, of being bound, that was hot, no matter who was doing it.

“Hey,” I said as I opened the door.

            “Hey,” she said.

            I backed up and let her in, then closed the door behind her. I turned around and she was right there, in my face, shoving me back against the door, crushing her lips against mine. My eyes widened, and at first I pushed against her shoulders. But her hands were already behind me, squeezing my ass, and her tongue was pushing into my mouth. She resisted being pushed back, and I slowly eased up, letting her explore my mouth with hers, feeling the strangeness of another girl’s lips against mine, her tongue stroking across my own.

            She was pretty good, better than most of the guys I’d had, in fact, and I let her do what she wanted, feeling the quivering in my lower belly spreading out, feeling the sexual tension rising inside me as her fingers kneaded my butt and her tongue stroked and swirled and danced across my own. It wasn’t making out with a girl that was turning me on, though, it was her pushing herself on me, her doing what she wanted, me submitting.

            Her right hand slid off my ass and suddenly was on my breast, squeezing and kneading it through my shirt. I stiffened, feeling my heart give a sudden pulse, but then did nothing.

            She eased back, smirking and I licked my lips a bit nervously. I shook out my hair and led her into the house.

            “Nice place,” she said. “Your parents must have money.”

            “Yeah, they got enough,” I said.

            “Why don’t you get undressed?”
            I felt a flush spread across my face, an unexpected and unfamiliar sense of shyness creeping over me.

            “What no wine and candies? No seduction?” I said mockingly.

            “I’m not here to seduce you, I’m here to fuck you,” she said.

            She shoved me, hard, and I staggered back to the entrance to the living room. She followed, smirking coyly, moving cat-like as I fought to control my uneasiness, and my indignation at her high-handedness. What the fuck was she doing, pushing me around anyway?

            “Strip. Get those clothes off so I can fuck you,” she said, deliberately taunting me, being deliberately crude.

            Then she shoved me hard again. I was only partly on my guard and still staggered back into the living room. She grinned and followed.

            “Quit that!”

            Her eyes looked over the room. It was fairly large, oddly shaped so that it focused on the rounded wall with the big fireplace. There was a large picture window on one side, with a sofa before it. She let herself fall into the sofa and propped her feet up on the coffee table.

            “Strip,” she said. “I want to get all horny looking at your hot blonde body.”

            I snorted in feigned amusement, still clinging to a casualness I didn’t feel. I was smooth faced and nonchalant on the outside, but on the inside I was swirling and churning and twisting anxiously, doubt, anxiety and heated passion warring in my mind.

            “Uhm, you want a drink?”

            “I want you to take your clothes off so I can tie you up, bitch,” she said.

            I felt breathless at the words. I still didn’t have any real enthusiasm for having sex with a girl, and was feeling anxious about it, and more than a little yucky, you know. But somehow, weirdly, that was turning me on. Like doing something I didn’t want to do was exciting. I was getting that trembly feeling I sometimes got, like when I was really hot, really excited, where my chest got tight and my breath got ragged and my stomach churned.

            Why? I had no idea.

            I looked past her to the window. It was sunny outside, and I could see cars moving past on the road, people on the sidewalks. I moved to draw the curtains closed.

            “Leave the curtains open. I like the natural light.”

            “People can see in,” I said, as if pointing out the obvious.

            “So? You ashamed of your body?” she taunted. “Anyway, no one can see in unless they put their face right up against the window. Now strip naked.”

            I felt a hot surge of sexual electricity through my groin as I unbuttoned my shirt. I was trying to pretend to a casualness I sure didn’t feel, and every inch of revealed skin made me feel more slutty, more defenseless, more – I don’t know – more inferior. I peeled off my blouse, a little red faced standing there in my lacy bra the way she was looking at me. I watched her look me up and down, a smirk on her face.

            “Come on, strip, bitch,” she said.

            Why did her talking to me like that turn me on!?

            Breathlessly, I undid my belt, popped the catch, and drew down the zipper on my tight, low-riding jeans. I pushed them down and stepped out of them, one leg at a time, and stood there, licking my lips in bra and panties. The open curtains, the people on the street, made me even more aroused. I knew they couldn’t really see me, but still…

My heart was thumping as I reached behind me and undid the strap of my bra, and I kind of covered my breasts with my hands and arms as I shrugged the straps forward and off my shoulders.

            Feeling foolish, but very exposed, very shy and hot, I bared my breasts to her and watched her eyes flicker over them.

            “The panties too, slut,” she said.

            I inhaled sharply, unevenly, and then peeled my thong down and off.

            “Stand straight. Put your hands behind your neck,” she ordered.

            Uncertainly, I did so.

            “Legs apart on the floor, slut. Fucking whore.”

            Again I felt my breath rattling in as I obeyed, my face red, my mind swirling with strange emotions, some angry and indignant, most excited, aroused, burning with heat.

            I stood with my feet apart and my hands behind my neck, arching my back for her as she sat on the sofa and casually looked up at me. With every passing second I felt more and more pathetic, and grew more embarrassed, uncertain if she was just playing me for a fool or was actively playing a hot, nasty sexual game with me.

            “Turn around, slut. Show me your ass,” she said.

            I turned my back to her, still breathing heavily.

\           “Bend over and grab your ankles.”
            “I’m not – .”

            “Do it, slut!” she snapped.

            I gulped and bent over, further and further, until I was bent double, clasping my ankles, face red with embarrassment – and flushed with excitement.

            “Get on your hands and knees, bitch.”

            I dropped down onto my hands and knees, turning, then turning again at her order, still red-faced, anxious, uncertain.

            “Come here, slut,” she ordered, taking her feet off the coffee table and leaning forward at last.

            I crawled the few feet to her and she let her fingers comb through my hair.

            “Up on your knees, hands behind your head.”

            I knelt in front of her, hands behind my head, and she ran her hands over my body, over my chest, rolling and pinching my breasts. Then she pinched harder – and harder still. I gasped in pain, jerking my hands down towards – .

            “Put your hands back behind your neck!” she snapped.

            I hesitated, then obeyed.

            “Stick your tits out, you whore!”

            I moaned softly as I obeyed, and she pinched my nipples hard, pulling them out, stretching them, making me gasp and clench my teeth against the sharp pain.

            She let them go with a smirk, then reached into the bag she’d brought with her. I had thought it a purse, though a large one, not really thinking that Angie never carried a purse. Now she drew what I at first thought was a leather strap from it, only this strap was short and thick and studded, and she leaned forward and wrapped it around my neck, then buckled it in place.

            “Turn around, whore,” she ordered.

            I obeyed, trying to control my breathing, embarrassed at how obviously aroused I was. I mean, I’d always thought of myself as strong-willed and independent. People thought sluts were weak, but I wasn’t a slut because I was weak, because I was seeking attention or looking for love. I was a slut because I liked fucking, and didn’t care enough about what people thought of me to stop.

            Angie gripped my right hand and slowly forced it up and back, high between my shoulder blades, all the way up to the back of my neck. I felt her strapping something around that wrist, then, and then felt the pressure on the collar as she locked the strap – or restraint – against a ring in the back of it. She took my left hand and forced it up behind my back too, and as with the right, put a strap around my wrist and then forced it up higher behind my neck.

            She took another, longer, wider strap from the bag and slipped it around my arms just above the elbows, and I gasped and moaned as she slowly forced them back together behind me. She paused often, massaging my shoulders. I was limber, but not so limber I could get my arms back so tightly without pain. But she did it, and strapped them together there.

            I had never felt quite so helpless, and my pussy was sopping.

            She gave me a rough push and I fell forward onto the floor, gasping and rolling to the side to land on my shoulder.

            “What a slut you are,” she said. “Get on your fucking knees and turn around.”

            Gasping, I forced myself upright and turned on my knees. She had a simply enormous dildo in her hands. It looked as thick around as a coke can, and was easily a foot long. She waggled her tongue at me as she showed it to me, and then smirked.

            “Look what I have for my little slut,” she said with a purr.

            “I-It’s too big,” I said, panting. “I can’t take that!”

            “Shut the fuck up. I’ll decide what goes into your whore body.”

            She brought out a square plastic base, about a foot on a side, and screwed the dildo into it, then placed it flat on the floor underneath me.

            “Spread your legs and lower yourself onto it, whore.”

            I felt my heart thumping faster, felt my face heating at the thought, felt my stomach churning with excitement and uncertainty, some fear, some alarm – .

            I sank slowly down, knees spreading farther and farther until I felt the head of the thing pressing firmly against the mouth of my sex.

            “It’s too big,” I protested.

            She slapped my face. Not hard, but it startled me and I gasped.

            “Did I ask for your opinion, whore?”

            She opened the bag and took out a little plastic squeeze bottle, then gripped my collar and jerked me up a bit. She squeezed the bottle over the big dildo, and then rubbed it with her hand, spreading some kind of clear, creamy liquid over it.

            “Down again, cock lover.”

            I sank down, feeling how slick and slippery the dildo was. I grunted at the pressure against my sex, but it still wasn’t going in.

            She stood up, smirking, and pressed her crotch against me. She was still fully dressed, but she ground her crotch against my face, and made me lick her there. I did, my tongue licking across the creased lining of her jeans, lapping at her pussy through the thick material.

            She drew back and reached into her bag of party favours again, this time taking out what looked like two little rings. But they had little screws and wheels on them, and as I watched she held one against one of my throbbing, erect nipples. I saw that it had a pair of little jaws, and when she had my nipple between them she began to turn a little screw which tightened them against my soft, sensitive flesh.

            “Oww,” I moaned. “Ow! Oww! Owwowowowow!”

            I started to move as the pressure became more intense, but she put a hand on my collar to hold me in place. And then she stopped screwing it and reached for the other.

            “It hurts!” I cried.

            “Good. I like to hurt nasty little cock loving het bitches.”

            “Oww! Angie!”

            “Shut up or I’ll gag you.”

            “But I don’t like – .”

            She slapped my face again, a little harder this time.

            I clenched my teeth against the pain as she tightened the other clamp against my other nipple. Then she attached a thin chain between the two, smirking at me as she tugged on it a little.

            “Down, slut. Why aren’t you sitting on my little toy?”

            “It’s too big!” I protested.

            But, in fact, it had been pressed against my pussy for a couple of minutes now, and the pressure had succeeded in slowly spreading my pussy apart. The rounded nose was grinding wetly, slickly against the mouth of my sex, and I could feel myself slowly stretching wider, slowly being forced open.

            Of course, penetration, by a large cock, had always been part of my fantasies, but not this large! Angie tugged lightly on the chain, making me gasp as it plucked at my crushed nipples, and then she let her hand slowly trace downward across my belly and between my legs. She hadn’t yet touched me there, and so I tensed, feeling a sudden wave of – well, not revulsion, but distaste. I didn’t want her touching me there.

            But then she did, and I felt a shudder of excitement as her fingers stroked across my swollen clit.

            “Come slut,” she taunted as she stroked her finger across my slippery clit. “Come bucket. You like to drink their come, don’t you, whore. Say it. Say you like to drink come.”

“I-I like to drink come!” I panted.

            And then I felt something at the mouth of my sex give way, my muscles loosening just that little bit more, and the nose of the dildo slid into me, grinding tautly through my sex lips and into my body. I shuddered in excitement and pain, the pressure making me hot, sore, bruised, but the thought of the penetration of something that thick wildly arousing.

            Angie drew out a piece of paper, with many folds on it, and unfolded it, then held it out in front of me.

            “Read it aloud,” she said.

            I read the first line or two and felt a tightening in my chest.

            “Read it aloud, you whore.”

            “I-I’m a filthy stinking, cock loving slut,” I said. “I love to suck cock and drink come. I love to have men come in my face and spray their semen into my hair and wipe their wet cocks off against my cheeks. I love to bend over and take it up the ass. I love to have great big, slimy dripping cocks up inside my cunt. I love to be gang banged and have every hole filled at the same time. I’m a dirty little come slut and I spread my legs for any man or boy who wants me.”

            As I read aloud I felt a quivering thrum of excitement between the legs, and simultaneously, a deep, bruising, stretching ache as I sank slowly downward on the thick dildo. I had several inches inside me now, and I was sinking slowly down with every passing second.

            “Is that true, slut?” she demanded, slapping my face. “Is it true, whore?” she asked, slapping it again on the other cheek.

            “No – yes!” I gasped. “Yes, I’m a cock hungry whore!”

            “Bitch,” she said, slapping my face again as I shuddered to the feel of the dildo slowly pushing up into my pussy.

            She gripped the chain and I yelped as she pulled it upwards. I was forced to scramble up – and the dildo came with me, base and all, for it was jammed into my pussy that tightly.

            Snickering, she maneuvered me to the side so I was straddling the corner of the coffee table, and had me squat over it until the base of the dildo was flat on the table right in the corner. That was a really awkward position to maintain, and so I felt more pressure against my pussy, felt the thing sinking deeper and deeper as I squatted over the table.

            Angie tugged on the chain and forced me up again, then removed the base from the dildo, saying “We don’t need this any more.”

            Then she forced me down again and I shuddered as the thick dildo ground over my sex lips and pushed up higher into my already aching, stretched out pussy sleeve.

            She reached between my legs and started stroking her thumb upward across my clit as she jerked repeatedly on the chain, and I started to kind of ride up and down on the dildo – after a fashion. You see, it wasn’t moving at all. I rose up a bit, taking the pressure off the dildo, then let my weight down once more, jamming my weight down against it once more.

            I was kind of pressing against it, then, in short, hard little jabbing motions as she stroked my clit and tugged at my burning nipples.

            “Cock slut,” she said with a sneer. “We’ll give you something to suck!”

            She drew out another toy from the bag. This was – I’m not sure how to describe it exactly. It was like a flat strap with a small, but thick dildo attached to one side. Actually, the dildo was more like a fat cockhead with an inch or two of shaft behind it.

            “Open your slut mouth and suck cock,” she sneered, pushing it against my mouth. She caught me by surprise, and the pressure of the latex cockhead against my teeth caused me to open my mouth – wide. The cockhead slipped through and over my tongue, filling my mouth and pressing down on my tongue. She pushed it deeper and I gurgled and gagged weakly as it hit the back of my throat.

            Then, with the flat strap pressed firmly against my mouth, she drew it around behind me and buckled it in place. The strap covered me from chin to just below the nose, and you could not tell from looking at it that I had my mouth wide around a fat cockhead.

            “Down, slut. Take that cock deep,” she ordered.

            I moaned, for the big dildo was already six inches or so deep inside me, my elastic pussy sleeve bulging out as though you’d put a softball into a nylon stocking.

            But Angie taunted and slapped and pinched me and pushed me downwards, so that, inch by slow inch, that massive dildo pushed up into my body: seven inches – eight – nine – ten. God, I was so full! I ached! My pussy lips strained wide and the nose of that big cock thing felt like it was going to rip through into my stomach!

            The sexual tension inside me was unbelievable, unbearable. I was at that state where I lost all free will, where I became a creature of sex, and cared about nothing but satisfying my burning lust and hunger. I began to kind of bounce up and down on the thick dildo, grunting and moaning as I jammed myself down onto it again and again in rapid little movements that slowly forced the dildo even deeper.

            Angie pulled on the chain and I yelped in pain, my nipples stretched and burning as she forced me forward, forced me off the coffee table, sent me stumbling forward onto my knees on the floor. A hard push and I fell forward onto my chest and belly, gasping for breath.

            “Get on your knees, you slut! Push that little round ass into the air for me!” she ordered with a sneer.

            I had never felt like this before, never felt such an intense sexual arousal without relief, never been held on the edge between that and climax for so long. I was gasping, sweating and trembling with the sexual energy and pressure within me. Moaning into the cock gag, I slowly forced my bottom into the air, while my chest stayed on the rug. I groaned and then cried out as she pressed her foot against the base of the big dildo and I felt the pressure as she forced it even deeper into my pussy.

            She chuckled throatily, then knelt down behind me, slapping my bottom sharply. “Spread `em, slut. Spread `em so I can rape you.”

            I felt her fingers kneading my buttocks, and pressing against the dildo. I groaned anew, then gasped as I felt her finger at my wrinkled little anal opening. I’d done a little anal by then, but nobody had, like, tried to push their fingers into me! But now she was doing just that, and the slippery coating from the dildo had gotten her fingers slippery too.

            “Nooo!” I cried into the gag, but of course, it came out muffled through the gag.

            Her finger pushed into my ass and I felt a shockwave of embarrassment, confusion, and a sense of being violated. I writhed and twisted weakly against her but she simply held me in place, and then I felt something else pushing against me, something thicker and harder.

            “Gonna rape you in the ass, slut,” she growled as it pushed into me.

            My eyes went wide, and I writhed with renewed energy, but she only laughed, slowly forcing my sphincter open and thrusting what turned out to be another, though thankfully thinner dildo into my ass. For several seconds, as I realized her intent, I began to panic, trying frantically to get away. She reached forward and gripped my hair, yanking me back, thrusting with her hips to drive the strap-on dildo deeper into my now aching ass.

            “Yeah! Bitch! Getting raped in the ass!” she said with a sneer. “You like my cock, slut!? You like it up the ass!?”

            She yanked on my hair and pushed down on my arms to keep my face and chest pressed against the floor while she rolled and twisted her hips and worked the dildo in and out and around, forcing my ass to submit, driving it slowly deeper until she could get a real stroke going.

            As I realized I could not resist I eased my frantic movements, panting for breath, gasping, wide eyed, moaning in misery as I felt her working the thing deeper. For a long moment I felt horrified, then something seemed to shimmer behind my eyes, and everything kind of – changed. I realized that this was exactly my fantasy – being helpless and used against my will. She was literally raping me in the ass with her – cock.

            And I was her helpless bitch, who could do nothing but kneel there tied up and take it.

            And as I fell into that fantasy I felt my pussy beginning to throb and burn anew, and my body thrum with a ferocious kind of sexual energy. I grunted and moaned and gasped as she worked the dildo in and out, forcing it deeper and deeper. And then it was all the way up my ass and her groin, her hips, still wearing the jeans, were pressed firmly against my upraised bottom.

            “Whore,” she sneered as she worked her hips in and out.

            She was pumping the dildo now, stroking it, thrusting freely in and out of my aching, but no longer tightly clutching ass. I grunted and moaned and gasped as she rode me, as she thrust into me, as my body churned with violent lust and need and hunger and arousal.

            She was raping me, raping me in the ass, and it hurt, but it hurt so good! I felt my eyes glaze over as my body rocked to the hard thrusting, as I felt that deep thrusting cock pumping in and out of me again and again. It felt – incredible! It was such a rush! Such a wild, hot, burning thrill-ride! God! I could hardly believe it! That dildo was pumping hard inside me now, her hips smacking against my upraised bottom as she pulled at my hair and slapped at my head and called me her whore. My mind was – I would say floating but that sounds too peaceful. Maybe I was floating on a wild, churning, frothing sea!

            I felt the superheated sexual energy overflowing, felt a sudden bubbling up of pleasure and heat. And then I came. The orgasm was so powerful that I could hardly bear it. It was an all-consuming roar of sexual energy that had me screaming into the gag, had me rutting back frantically against the dildo she was thrusting into me. My nipples flamed and my breasts burned and my insides twisted and roiled wildly as the orgasm tore through me like a hurricane.

            It went on and on – glorious, wild, intense, and I writhed and bucked and twisted and gurgled like an animal as it tore through me. And then it slowly faded away and left me dazed, limp, jaw slack and eyes slitted.