I looked at Melanie. She kicked her legs from beneath her buttocks. Her toes touched the floor as would a ballerina’s. The lady restrained a mischievous smile at my observation.
With an annoyed tone I asked, “Brent, what restraints do you have?”
“I, uhh, we… I have hand cuffs and duct tape,” he answered.
I informed him, “Duct tape is useless. I don’t want to leave any evidence behind. It will rip her flesh when this is over.”
Brent said, “I have what is required. We have hand cuffs and duct tape,” he repeated himself.
“Get it,” I commanded.
Brent unlocked a metallic brief case and removed several rolls of pleasure tape and two pairs of hand cuffs.
Melanie was livid, “Why did you tell him that we have that? What the fuck is your problem!?”
Her husband responded, “Honey, he has my gun. Do you want us both to die?”
I was confused. Is this real or are they really into this?
Brent put up an index finger as though he were signaling a “time out”. He made eye contact with me and said, “Sorry.” He turned to his wife and said, “Honey, sweetheart, my ties are what I wear to work. I will not be going to my meetings wrinkled. “
Melanie answered with a wild look, “No, you will not. You will buy new ones. I want neck ties!”
I dropped the arm which held the gun. I dropped my head and looked at my feet. I refused to speak. My fee was already in my pocket. The gun was in my hand.
He looked at me dejectedly and made a motion with his hand signaling me to point the gun in their direction. “Where are your neckties?” I asked him.
He said, “In the closet.”
Within the closet of their massive suite, there was a special hanger which housed a dozen neckties. I threw the entire hanger on the bed. Melanie seemed enraptured by the tousled ties on the bed beside her. I told her stand up as Brent set up his camcorder. His action reminded me to put on the goalie mask which I had asked for on the previous day. After shielding my face from the recording device, I turned my attention toward Melanie.
“Take the handcuffs and go over to the ‘gunsmith’ over there.” She complied. I instructed, “Stand behind him.”
I spoke to Brent, “Do you have keys?” He nodded a reply.
I said, “Honey, sweetheart, cuff his wrists.” They both seemed turned on when the metallic clicks alerted that his arms had been bound.
“Gunsmith, get on your knees. Good. Melanie bind his ankles.” Again they were both sexually aroused by the sounds of metal clicking as she cuffed his ankles.
I asked the man, “How are your knees? Okay? Do you need a pillow?”
“Forget about it,” he said off handedly. “My turn.”
I turned to his lady and said, “Go to the bed and take off your clothes.”
Brent asked with shame in his voice, “Please don’t open the folding chair that’s below the bed.”
Instead of his girl, I went to the bed. I reached beneath it and pulled out a metal folding chair.
Again he spoke, “It would break my heart to see you undress my wife with one hand and with my gun in your other hand.”
I motioned for her to come to the bed. She watched my eyes impassively. The costume goalie mask gave me the appearance of similar dispassion. She wore a thick fleece bathrobe which was tied around her waist. It had a hood which rested on the top of her scalp. Her jet black hair was parted down the middle. Gently I pulled the hood back. It fell onto her shoulders.
I tugged at the fleece tie which was around her waist. The robe opened. She maintained eye contact with me as I tugged at the back of the robe. Her arms bobbed at the side of her torso and hips. The robe dropped in a crumpled heap at her heels.
At this point she was wearing only a long tee shirt with a Betty Boop Logo on the front. She wore no bra and her nipples teased every eye in the room.
Brent said, “It would tear her apart if you were to remove the scissors from the brief case and cut the shirt off of her body.”
As I reached through the brief case she said, “This is my favorite shirt, Brent.”
With a hint of vengeful spite he echoed her, “I’ll buy you a new one.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/6p2p2h/deerplain_donna_3