‘Fuck You! Fuck! You!’
It was an interesting choice of words, given that no one was fucking anyone, and I had my suspicions this wasn’t about to change anytime soon. Despite the fact, my cunt was dripping wet, and his cock was hard.
I could feel my wetness again my thighs, the barrier of underwear proving futile against my arousal. I knew he’d be able to see this. He’d manhandled, roughly me into a chair and tied me down. Spreading my legs as he did so, in a way that made my skirt ride up, leaving my drenched panties in full view.
As he’d tied my arms down and restrained my torso against the hard back of the chair, he’d pulled my vest top and bra away from my body, revealing hard, eager nipples. Another betrayal of my obvious arousal.
I felt exposed and slightly ashamed at the predicament I’d found myself in. I hadn’t expected to be caught as I peered through the crack of his door. Here I was though, my voyeurism having backed fired. What I wanted to see and watch in secret, I was now being forced to watch, with no choice to turn away. I felt sick with dread, yet I couldn’t deny that I was also enthralled and exhilarated.
The video on the computer screen had been paused. Even captured between two motions she was stunning. Her lingerie skimming gracefully across the perfect curves of her body. Whenever I looked at her I ached from both envy and arousal. When she had told me of her intentions to make him this video I was torn. I knew if I asked to see it she would say yes. We didn’t keep things from each other that might make us anxious. At the same time though I knew for it to be most effective it needed to be private between the two of them. I wanted to respect this, I really did, but the part of me that enjoyed self-torture decided voyeurism would win out.
There I was, heart pounding, cunt aching, getting wet from the anticipation of what I would witness. When he pressed play on the video I couldn’t help but gasp at how unlike her usual self she was. Usually coy and playful in her submission, this new version of her was brazen, with an air of Dominance I never could have imagined her to have. That gasp, that one, small, barely audible gasp gave me away.
I was frozen to the spot as I saw him pause the video and get up from his chair. In a split second he was in front of me, hand gripping my hair as he dragged me to the chair he was to tie me too. As I was the one who had been caught, my rage was unwarranted, but I felt defiant. He could tie me down, and force me to watch, but I would not give away how I felt inside. This tangled web of shame and arousal was mine, I didn’t want to share it.
‘You want to watch do you? Well, let’s make it easy for you. Such a dirty girl, being a secret voyeur. To think, I thought I knew all your perversions.’
That was when the words those word of defiance left my mouth. ‘Fuck You. Fuck. You.’ I paid for my defiance with his hand across my face. With the initial contact and the sting it left, my cunt throbbed. He rarely got this rough with me, but when he did it aroused every inch of me.
Once I was firmly tied to the chair, in a position that meant I would be able to see him, but not the computer screen. His hand gripped my neck, as his mouth fell to my ear with a whisper. With the low, menacing voice that made me melt, he made it very clear that I would question my decision to sneak around.
‘You will sit. You will watch. Your cunt will ache, all the while knowing you will be punished for your behaviour. You’re a disgrace. I can see how fucking wet you are all ready. You had better enjoy the show because you will pay for it.’
His words were humiliating, they made the shame of my desires rise inside me, and that humiliation and shame only fuelled my arousal. I also knew that whatever punishments followed would do the same.
He fell back into his chair, his cock still hard, it hadn’t softened at all while he was reprimanding and tying me. The video began to play and her words filled the air. Her soft voice, unusually hard, as she spoke to him. She spoke of how badly he wanted her, how much he loved to fuck her, of how wet he made her and of how hard she made him. That last statement, evidently a fact from what I saw in front of me.
He was solid. His hand gripping and stroking his length. I struggled against my restraints. Caught between wanting to get to him and wanting to escape the situation I had found myself in. He didn’t even notice, he was lost in pleasure, he was lost in her and I wanted to feel bad about this, but I just felt more turned on.
It made me think of all the times she’d visited, and despite the expectation that I would join them, I would on occasion excuse myself. I’d lie there in my room listening to them as they played and fucked. A feeling of emotional masochism would rise inside me, and part of me would long to run to them and join in, but the part of me that won was the part of me that revelled in the feelings that arose in me as I listened.
It always felt a little bit taboo, the only kink that felt dirty and grubby, and far from being a bad thing, those feelings seem to flutter against my skin, causing every inch of me to feel charged with erotic energy I just can’t find in other explorations in masturbation.
Bringing myself back to the present, I watched, eyes unblinking as he followed her instructions to touch himself, to think of her. I listened as she started to touch herself, as she moaned and gasped, as she breathlessly told him how she did this to thoughts of him all the time. I knew this to be true. I’d even helped her do just that on more than one occasion. Our phone calls would often descend into masturbation sessions, each helping the other along by describing various scenarios that we knew would get the other off. She always came hardest when my words were about him.
I knew his touch so well that is wasn’t hard to describe it in great detail. I’d watched them interact so often that I knew how his hands moved across her, and how she responded when he did so. I loved reminding her of how he’d tease her, how he’d gently, softly trace the lines of her body, watching as she became more and more frustrated, trying to move her body towards his to no avail, before she would finally give in and beg for his touch to be firmer and more fruitful.
Now I ached for them both, I longed to lie beside them as their bodies moved together. Her hands always finding me, her nature to be kind and inclusive never getting lost even when she was being fucked into spacey incoherence. It was mesmerising to watch them, as they moved just as they would against me, as their hands and mouths engaged in actions I knew so well for myself. There were many times I’d become so lost in watching, that I would forget to join in. My hands would move to touch and explore, but instead of reaching for their bodies I’d reach for my own. Sometimes I was permitted to amuse myself, more often than not their lips and hands would pull me back to them, and I’d become lost in the pleasure we created together.
My restraints were biting into my flesh, the ropes digging in more than he probably anticipated due to my relentless wriggling. The pain was sweeter than I could even begin to explain, in vast contrast to the unyielding burning in my cunt, that sought release. A release I felt I would not be granted. His release, however, was ebbing ever closer, and I could barely allow myself to blink for fear of missing it. I hated the ropes that bound me for holding me back from him, I wanted to move closer, I wanted to be nearer to him as I watched his orgasm take hold.
His head had fallen back against the headrest of his chair, the moans of self-pleasure were falling from his lips, as his mouth fell open ever so slightly. I longed to kiss those lips, to hold his face in my hands, as he brought himself to climax. He was getting close, I could see it in the way his body was shifting, the muscles that were tensing, the changes in his breathing. She was still there, encouraging him, beautifully seductive, simultaneously debauched and sensual.
The way his hands were moving as he pleasured himself was at the moment the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen. He was so hard, his tip glistening, pre-cum oozing from him, in a manner so enticing that it felt like it was present only to tease me. I longed to take him in my mouth, to lick him, to fuck him. This current predicament seeming ludicrous as a different being awoke within me, a being that wanted action and touch, not visual stimulation that did nothing but tease and torture.
All at once though, before I was truly ready for it to be over, it was. With a change of tone that caught me off guard, she had ordered him to come, and he had obeyed. He was gripped in throes of a climax so strong I thought he might pass out, he looked glorious. He was usually the embodiment of power and control, he was so very careful as to how and when he let himself go. He seemed so free in that moment though as if all the stresses and strains of life had been sucked from him and expelled with the force of his orgasm.
His eyes opened, and his gaze met mine, a smile spread across his face as he looked at me, and my heart filled with joy, and now I wanted to be free to hold him close and love him as hard as he came.
‘Well that was new … and fun. You’re still in trouble for being a sneaky pervert, but your punishment can wait … for now.’
With that, he moved from his chair, and came towards me and began removing the rope that bound me. As he unveiled the rope marks that had been caused by my constant tugging and twisting, he rubbed them tenderly and planted kisses upon them too.
Once I was free to move, he took my hand and led me to his bed, where we both fell into the kind of cuddle that made for perfect aftercare, and then we called the other person who had been involved in our impromptu scene, and she squealed with delight at how naughty the whole thing was.
We hung up the phone and in seconds he was upon me. Pinned beneath him, his eyes were steely, with that hint of danger that made my stomach flip with anticipation. His hands moved to find I was still wet, wetter than I’d been in a long time. His fingers started to move against me and inside me, while his mouth started to whisper vulgar profanities against my ear.
He made me relive every moment, he forced me to face why I’d been there. He dug around inside my head, while his fingers fucked me, and I betrayed my own desire to keep my secrets as I realised he knew them all already. With every orgasm he tore from my body, whether I was ready to give in to them or not, he showed me that I could not hide from him. When he choked me, and slapped me, tied me and teased me, he peeled away the layers of who I showed the world I was, until he was left with the me I truly I am.
I lay in a heap, half naked and very bedraggled. I felt elated both at having shared this previously secret kink with two people so close to me, but also at having kept my bedroom ‘voyeurism’ of listening in on them a secret. I felt like divulging quite how far this went would possibly spoil its allure for me. As I lay there immobilised by all the sensations that had taken hold of me since I’d be caught peering through the crack in the door, my phone pinged with a tone reserved on for her.
‘I knew you weren’t tired all those nights you excused yourself. Pervert! I know your secret. I’ll keep it though. This will be fun.’
It seemed I was to have a partner in voyeuristic crime, and despite previous reservations, I could not wait. Her next visit would definitely be a very fun adventure.