Betrayal is a nasty word, and being betrayed by a friend one of the nastiest feelings I know. That’s the major taboo of friendship. You may lie to your friends, keep things from them, let them down from time to time, but you don’t betray them. However, as we all know, taboos make for good sex stories. I could go on and explain that further, using my dry, professorial tone, but perhaps an example might clear things up a mite.
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I looked up to see a wicked smile on her face, and I knew I was in trouble. Cynthia had been my best friend from grade school, through high school and college. We had been practically inseparable. I had asked her to be maid-of-honour at my wedding, and our friendship had continued up to the present. I had trusted her, confided my innermost feelings and thoughts to her – and she to me. But that look on her face told me that I had never really known her.
“Cat got your tongue, Linda?”
No, the penis gag had it. With my mouth wrapped around it, with it pressing down against my tongue, I could make no intelligible sounds – and grunts and moans didn’t cut it as far as she was concerned. She just didn’t feel like trying to interpret them. Or maybe she could, but pretended a lack of ability.
Her smile widened just a little, and she bent down and tweaked my already engorged nipples, causing me to strain against the bonds. But, with my hands tied together, and anchored above my head on the large bed, with my feet slightly apart and anchored to the bottom, I couldn’t escape. I squirmed.
“You look so pretty there,” she said. “So petite, just like a centrepiece on a table.” She glanced at the clock on the night table. “Well, we’d better finish up here, it’s almost time.”
She reached inside the bag she had brought, and pulled out two boxes. She showed them to me, and I swallowed. Two plugs. The models on the boxes were smiling. I couldn’t smile. Cynthia opened the first and my eyes widened at the size of it. It started off small, widened considerably, then had a sharp taper, ending with a patch such that it would be held inside me, but not slip all the way in. And I’d have great difficulty pushing it out. With my hands unavailable, I’d have to wait for help to remove it.
“Some lube, I think, though from the smell of things, you’re lubing up quite nicely as it is.”
I flushed. She told the truth. I felt all wet and gushy. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see her knowing smirk. Then I felt the plug at my lips, and Cynthia began pushing it. I gasped into the gag.
“Too big, too big,” I tried to say, but it didn’t come out that way at all, and Cynthia never stopped working it in and out until the widest part of the taper suddenly slipped in me. My muscles closed around it, and there I lay, plugged.
“Very good,” she chuckled. “Open your eyes.”
I didn’t want to open my eyes; I knew what I would see. A slap against my thigh changed my mind. I opened them to see the anal plug in her hand. It had the same sort of taper as the other, but smaller. I shook my head, no. It would never fit.
“Oh, it will fit, all right,” Cynthia said, grinning. “We’ll make it fit.” I closed my eyes again, and she laughed. She removed the anchors at my feet, and brought them up to my shoulders, such that my legs were spread and my feet were above me, giving her all the access she might ever want.
Nothing had been where she intended to put that nasty device, and I shuddered, fearing the pain it would cause.
“Good thing we cleaned you out, down there, hey?” She said with a little laugh as she pressed it against my anus.
I flushed again, remembering the enema that I had not wanted. But she had insisted, the witch. I tensed.
“Relax, and push out. It will hurt less.”
It didn’t hurt at all, to my vast surprise. She worked on me for almost ten minutes, pushing in just a little, then pulling out again. Each time, she stretched me just a little more, sometimes giving me a little breather before moving on again. It, too, suddenly slipped in, and my sphincter closed about it, ensuring it would go nowhere without aid. I felt very full indeed.
“There, almost done,” Cynthia crooned. She replaced the anchors – and my feet – at the bottom of the bed. “Just one more thing.”
“One more thing?” I tried to say, aghast. I didn’t have any more holes to plug.
“Well, two more things, but one can wait.”
Two more things? I shook my head. She laughed and piled the two pillows together. She lifted me, and placed them under my butt. Then she pulled something from the bag. A vibrator. That and a cloth wrap. I found myself sucking on the penis gag like a soother. I knew what she intended, and I shook my head, no. She ignored that.
Too soon, the vibrator rested where it would do the most good – or ill – and the bondage wrap around my thighs ensured it would stay there. She pulled the pillows from me and I settled back on the bed, truly trapped.
“Let’s see if it works.”
“Let’s not,” I tried to cry out. She showed no mercy, and turned it on. She sat cross-legged on the bed, looking down at me, holding my gaze as the vibrator worked its magic on me. My breath started to come in huffs, and my body lifted to her. She idly fingered my nipples, sending bolts of electricity through me. I couldn’t, I just couldn’t come in front of her.
“You don’t have a choice,” she said, as if reading my mind. Then that wicked smile came back. “When something is inevitable, you might as well just lie back and enjoy it. This is inevitable.”
She reached out and touched my chin, turning my face to her. I held back as long as I could, but my body tightened, my hips raised and I groaned around the gag. I began jerking as I came. Then the vibrator became too much and I thrashed about, trying to escape.
The vibrations died.
“Very nice, and just in time.” She indicated the clock. “He should be here soon.” She waited while I calmed down.
A knock came at the door. “Last thing,” she said, and put a blindfold over my eyes. Then she turned me over, the pillows now beneath my hips, raising my ass lewdly into the air. I felt her weight leave the bed, a pat on my ass, and then heard the door open.
“You have the money?” she asked.
“One hundred and fifty,” the man answered, quietly. I heard bills being counted out.
“You have an hour. Make the most of it. I think she wants a trip around the world.” She whispered something I couldn’t hear, and I swallowed again as I heard the door close. Cynthia, the woman I had called my best friend in the world, had left, and I lay helpless to prevent what would now happen.
A large hand came down on my ass and began rubbing in circles. The other hand wandered up and down my back, tickling, stroking. Then they departed, and I heard the sounds of a man stripping.
I felt him loosen the anchor that held my hands above my head, giving me some slack. With the slack, when he pulled at my hips, I came back, raising my head for him. He knelt in front of me, and I could smell his musky aroma. He pulled the phallus from the ring-gag that held my mouth open. Then his cock entered my mouth. I had no choice in the matter, I began to do the best I could, given the gag.
He gasped, but said not a word. I wanted to hear him speak, to say something, anything. I wanted to see his face, but the blindfold meant I saw nothing. He hardened nicely. I found myself glorying in my power to arouse this man – and then he withdrew. To my shock and dismay, he reinserted the penis gag before I could say anything, then pushed me back down over the pillows.
“Umph!” The vibrator had started. I heard a chuckle. Then I felt his fingers pulling at the large plug. He gently pulled until it slid out, and he slid in, in its place. His weight came down on me, his hands hooked under my shoulders and he pulled me back to meet his thrusts. Soon I chuffed into the gag again. The vibrator drove me ever higher, and his cock worked in and out of me, while my rear felt pleasantly full. I began to enjoy the feeling, knowing that my body would cause his to lose control.
When he started the hard, fast strokes I knew he was almost there. I wiggled for him, again feeling power. He groaned and slammed into me, then held himself there, spilling his seed inside of me. He collapsed on me, his weight making it difficult to breathe.
A slap on my ass told me he had risen. He moved to my head again, and pulled out the gag. He pushed himself in, and I could taste his juices mingled with mine. To my surprise, he hardened almost immediately. I dreaded what was coming, but could say nothing, for he replaced the penis gag immediately his cock left my mouth.
The butt-plug came out after a bit of working, and then he entered me. Slightly bigger, and much longer, I felt an entirely new sensation.
“I want to hear you,” he whispered, and unbuckled the gag. I spit it out just as he began to thrust once more.
No one had ever taken my ass. It felt … different. Not unpleasant. Especially with the vibrator still driving me. I bucked and twisted under him, but he rode me like a bronco, never letting me get away.
“Oh, God!” I gasped, the vibrator, and his cock, having pushed me to the limit. “Oh, God!”
He began thrusting like a maniac, and I came, shuddering. I tightened rhythmically, and that sent him over once more. The vibrator continued to buzz.
“Off, off, turn it off,” I begged. He complied, reaching down and stilling the devil’s apparatus.
He lay there, on me, still inside me. He unclipped my wrists from the anchor and I brought them down. He turned us both on our sides, with his cock still in me, though softening. His arm around me, held me close.
“Happy Birthday, darling,” I said. He began rocking his hips. Surely not again?
“The children?” he asked.
“Cynthia’s going to pick them up at school, then baby-sit them until we come home tomorrow.”
“One hundred and fifty dollars?”
I laughed. “I was too embarrassed to buy the toys. I sent Cynthia in. She picked them up on her card. Oh, and the room is on her – her birthday gift to you.”
“Nice to have a friend like her,” he said, nibbling at an earlobe. He continued rocking his hips, and I felt him beginning to harden once again. “If she’s got the kids, why only an hour?”
“Room service. We ordered a birthday meal for you.”
“Vixen. Well, in that case, I’d better take full advantage of your position.” He began moving in and out of me again. “Oh, and if the room is in her name, I think I’ll just leave you uncovered when room service arrives – a tip for the waiter.”
I goggled. “You wouldn’t dare.”
But he did. And we laughed about it for hours.
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Things are not always as they seem. Part of an author’s job is to deliberately point the readers in one direction while actually moving in another. The author gives enough information to ensure the readers have an idea about what is going on, but withholds enough to make a true analysis problematic. Oh, they may guess, but the better the writing, the greater the surprise and joy when that final piece clicks in place, allowing the readers a look at the whole.
If I had placed the above paragraph at the start of this post, where I had originally intended to place it, then all who read would have read with the goal of ferreting out my ‘trick’, thus spoiling the surprise. I’m not saying that some – or most – did not at some point intuit where the story was going, but if a reader allows him- or herself to be carried along by the flow of words, rather than playing detective, they’ll probably have a fairly good time of it.
A twist ending has to be set up so that everything that went before can be interpreted in two different ways. Is Cynthia a true friend, or a back-stabbing she-devil? Well, she’s part both, but mostly friend. Once she has Linda tied down to the bed, she takes a little advantage – who wouldn’t? And, we can assume, Linda secretly enjoys it. It adds a little spice to the whole thing. We know Linda wanted something like this, otherwise she could have put the toys in herself, and just had Cynthia tie her down at the proper time.
And my heading for the post: Betrayal? Well, that probably had my readers looking in the wrong direction. But the only betrayal that occurred is mine. I betrayed you by putting that title up. You trusted me. Your mistake.
The above didn’t come from any book. I wrote it just for this post — a two-hour quicky, you might say. So, your anger at my trick can’t be assuaged by leaving me a 1-star review on Amazon. You can, however, give this post a 1-star review. Heck, any review is a good review. At least it means someone read it.
Your local neighbourhood Deltonian,
Delta, (who also writes as Echo Chambers)
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Echo Chambers’ books