Duncan Fox: Slave wife

After taking one final shot of her ranged body, Max untied her ankles. Conscious of her whimpers of pain, he helped her straighten her legs. Her skin was chafed and sore where the ropes had cunt into her.

He unfastened her wrists from the table, but left them bound together. He carried her to the sofa.

He lay there limp and exhausted. Her hands were shielding her pussy.

She looked dead. Only the rise and fall of her magnificent tits proved she wasn't. Something about the way she was bound made Max reach for the camera and snap one last picture.

He was tenderly rubbing hand lotion into the welts around her ankles when she finally sighed and opened her eyes. When she lifted her head, he slid a pillow under it. Tenderly, he eased a strand of her golden hair away from her eyes. She nuzzled her cheek against his fingers.

"Oh, Max, I'm so awful," she whispered.

"No, you aren't, baby. But you are my slave. Remember?"

She shivered. Her tits stiffened and her shoulders hunched. "I remember."

"You'll remember what you promised?" he asked seriously.

"I'll remember what I promised," she said, realizing how serious he was. She was just as serious herself. Then she looked a bit scared. "You will be a good master, won't you?"

He smiled. "You're much too valuable a possession to risk damaging," he answered.

Tears glistened in her blue eyes. "I do belong to you, Max. Body and soul I belong to you."

He began to untie her wrists.

"You know what I'd like, Max? Or can a slave ask for things sometimes?"

"Sure, you can ask for things sometimes," he answered. "But you can't argue when I say no."

"I'd like something so the whole world knows I'm your slave," she said. "Something I have to wear, all the time, like my wedding band. Only it should be something I can't ever take off."

Max threw the rope aside. "I was thinking the same thing, baby. I read in a book once that the woman had a ring put through one of her cunt-lips, like the ring in the nose of a bull."

"I… don't think I could take that," she stammered, shivering.

Max smiled at her. "You will if I decide you will!"

"Yes, Max," she agreed in a soft whisper. "But I think a bracelet or a collar will do for a start," he assured her. "Nothing too obtrusive."

"Yes, Max," she agreed.

Max contemplated what her frigidity had brought out in both of them. The possibilities for the future were endless.

Max enjoyed the feel of the sun beating down on his shoulders as he worked. He was stripped to the waist. The clippers clattered and chattered as he trimmed the shaggy hedge. With smooth sweeps, he evened off the inside of the head-high baffler that surrounded their back yard. The air was cool, with just enough of a breeze to dry the trickles of sweat running down his body.

Max enjoyed, too, the occasional glimpses of Kim working in the shade of the awning. She was on an old chair. Her body filling the hot-pink bikini made his cock swell and pulse. By carefully timing his glances in her direction, he kept his dick hard and eager, but not so hard and eager that it hurt.

Reaching a corner, he turned off the electric clippers and walked toward the house to untangle the cord from the trees. He still had one stretch of hedge to go.

Kim was bending over. The sight of her heavy tits straining the suit top made his chest clench. Wrenching his gaze away from her creamy globes, he sorted out the long cord and went back to the hedge. "Hey, baby, next chance you get, would you get me a beer?" he called over his shoulder.

"Sure, Max," she agreed happily. "Right now?"

"Naw, wait until you're finished pouting," he answered, pleased by her ready willingness to drop everything and wait on him.

Ever since they had gotten into the bondage bit and gotten their sex life straightened out, their whole marriage had changed, for the better. He wasn't snapping at her the way he had been, and she had fewer attacks of the blues.

He knew it was time he got the ropes out again. The thought made his cock jut up eagerly as he worked his way along the hedge. The thought of the ropes digging gently into Kim's soft, lush curves and her wrists and ankles, maybe her thighs even, made it hard to keep his clipping slow and even.

Standing back, he switched off the clippers and eyed his work. Then he unplugged the trimmers and took them to the garage. He kept his mind off Kim as he coiled the extension cord and hung it up.

"I'll get your beer," Kim told him, scrambling up gracefully from her cross-legged sitting position on the patio. The way her pose had drawn the bikini bottom tight against her pussy had made Max's pulse hammer. He watched the twitch and roll of her ass as she disappeared into the house.

"You about done with pouting?" he asked casually after thanking her for the beer and taking the first refreshing chug. He reclined in a chaise lounge.

"Just about," she answered. "Two legs to go is all."

"When you get through there, I'll get some rope out," he told her. He saw her stiffen, and he could almost see the itch forming in her gut.

He saw her grip on the brush tighten. The cunt-laden bristles quivered, betrayed the tremor in her hand as she stroked the cunt down the leg of the old chair.

"You haven't made my slave bracelet or whatever it's going to be," she pointed out in a soft voice.

"I know it, baby. I'll do that this afternoon, too."

"What's it going to be like?" she asked with false casualness.

"You'll see, baby, you'll see."

"I'll be back as soon as I get the cunt off my hands," she said, getting up.

Max killed his beer, and clung to the memory of her sexy walk as she went into the house. He knew she expected him to take her indoors, in the living room maybe, or even the bedroom. He got up and went into the workroom and returned a moment later with a coil of rope.

"Where – do you want me?" Kim asked, standing nervously in the doorway. Her chest was heaving with her eager breaths and her tummy was flat with tension.

Max shifted the rope from one hand to the other, one coil at a time. "I'll come out here, baby," he ordered.

"Out there?" she squeaked.

"Get in the lounge chair," he ordered.

"Someone'll see, Max," she protested. "Someone will see us."

"No, they won't, baby. No one can see over the hedge," he told her, knowing it was a lie. "No arguments, remember?"

"Yes, Max," she whispered, starting hesitantly toward the chaise. There were sweat beads on her upper lip. He knew they weren't from the heat.

"Sit back, baby," he told her as she eased gingerly down on the lounge.

Pulling out his pocket knife, he cunt a four-foot length off the well-worn rope. Carefully, he bound her arm to the lounge.

After repeating the procedure on her other arm, he stepped back to study his handiwork. He saw her make her hands become fists as she tested the ropes. Her arm muscles flexed against the coils.

"Is that all?" she asked.

"Not by a long shot, baby," he assured her.

He went around behind her and he saw her shiver in anticipation. Pushing her head forward, he lifted her thick blonde hair. Then he formed a slip knot on a loop large enough to drop over her shoulders and the back of the lounge chair. He eased the rope down until it was just above the well-loaded top of her bikini. Then he drew it tight. It dug into the soft upper slopes of her tits as he cinched her tight against the back of the lounge.

"Oh, Max," Kim whispered. "God, I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," he assured her.

Through the webbing of the chair he unbuttoned her bikini top. The pressure of her back kept the bra in place, though the weight and thrust of her tits strained the strap open a fraction of an inch.

Moving around in front of her, he lovingly drew the top away from her boobs, bared them to the bright sunlight. Her rosy pink tits jutted up stiffly.