A short story about being handcuffed to a bench – [FemalePoV][FMM]

“You want me to *what*?”

“Take off your clothes. Go into the men’s changing room. Handcuff yourself to a bench. Don’t speak a word, and let them do anything they want. I’ll come in and set you free in half an hour.”

“But mistress, I-”

Sophia lay a hand on my cheek, gentle and affectionate and leaving no room for further argument. Her lips touched mine, a brief whisper of a kiss, then broke away.

“Yes, mistress,” I said.

“Good *girl*.”

My heart leapt at the words. I knew I didn’t have to do as she asked, it wasn’t like I was beholden to her in any way; she had no real power over me. I was an adult, confident, more than financially independent, and yet every part of me desired nothing more than to do whatever she wanted. Even, or perhaps especially, when what she wanted was something I would have never imagined myself doing otherwise.

I started to disrobe and twin fires burned within me, the one in my cheeks matched by another between my legs. I wasn’t sure if arousal or embarrassment led the race going on between my physiological responses; my hands shaking with nervous energy, my heart rate climbing precipitously as I started to pull my top over my head.

“Slower,” said Sophia.

I tried to calm my restless need to get on with it, let my top fall to the floor, and started to slowly peel down my shorts. I was sweaty from the workout, and Sophia was too, though she seemed in no hurry to undress, content to watch me with a hint of a smile. At least we were the only women in the changing room.

My sports bra followed, then my panties, and at a gesture from my mistress I let my hair down too. She handed me the pair of handcuffs, pushed open the door to the women’s changing room, and glanced outside. I waited for a terrifying half-minute until she judged the coast was clear, and then, at her nod, I sprinted out into the gym.

“Have fun!”

The words trailed after me as I shot across the distance to the male changing rooms. I threw my arms forward before entering, enough to cushion my impact against the door, pushed it open and careened inside. For a blissful moment I thought the changing room was empty, and then the sounds of laughter filled the air.

There were three of them, tall, muscular, and with a trio of near identical builds that marked them as members of the same sports team, swimming, at a guess. My cheeks burned and my body went rigid, facing away from them with my hands at my side. Tears began to well in the corners of my eyes. Why was I doing this? I wanted to be home with Sophia, in her arms, between her legs.

“You lost?”

I twitched in the direction of the voice, and the handcuffs clinked in my grip. Handcuffs. Sophia, and her orders. My mistress. Who I wanted to obey. That’s why I was here. Resolve strengthened, I wiped away my tears with the back of one hand and then strode into the middle of the room.

“Hey, this is the wrong-”

I knelt on the floor, its cold stone hard against my body, and bent over one of the benches in the middle of the room. It was wooden, small enough for me to wrap my arms around it, and with enough space underneath for my hands. I wedged my thighs against the side of it, my knees at the point where it met the floor, my breasts squashed against the wood; and then I slipped the handcuffs over both hands and closed them. When it was done, I could barely move.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the swim team looking at each other in confusion, imagined the questions on their faces. Did she just? Is this really happening? One of them stood and walked towards me, crouching by my bench so his head was level with mine.

“What are you doing?”

I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it, remembering my mistress’ instructions. I shrugged instead, rolling my eyes a little to add to the effect. The guy raised an eyebrow, and his friends walked over to join him.

“Felix, come on. She’s crazy, and this is weird, and we’re going to be late. Leave her. Lets go.”

“No,” said Felix. “I want to know what she’s doing.”

“I am not getting caught up in more of your shit. This is going to end badly.”

“Then go.”

“Fine,” huffed the friend. “You coming, Claude?”

“Er, no?” The one who had spoken had darker skin. I supposed he must be Claude.

“For fucks- Party, remember? Drinks, friends?”

“Yeeeeah no. I’m gonna stay here. With the naked chick.”

“Don’t blame me when this ends badly.”

His piece said, the friend huffed again and I heard footsteps, the door to the changing room opening, then a bang as it closed. Felix placed his arms on the bench then settled his face onto them, staring into my eyes. The first word I thought of was pretty, not handsome; an almost feminine face with long black hair tied back behind his head. He had an incredible smile.

“Lose a bet?” he asked. “I’ve seen some pretty crazy forfeits, but honestly this one takes the cake. Well done. I’m impressed.”

I stared at him blankly, trying to think of a gesture to respond with, but he continued before I had a chance.

“Can’t speak either, huh? I’m thinking one of your friends is going to come and let you free in an hour or something. Want us to stop anyone else coming in? We can tell ’em it’s out of order and direct them to the other one.”

Either this guy was way smarter than any athletics team member I’d ever met, or my mistress was stealing her ideas from their club hazing activities. Either way, he’d figured me out, and fast. But that didn’t change the rules, no talking, let them do what they want. I shrugged.

“Not bothered, huh? Right. Well, I guess there’s one other question. Shake your head if I’m way off here, and we can leave and get security or whatever, but I gotta ask. Is this a free-use thing? Or a humiliation fetish? Did you come in here expecting someone to take advantage of you?”

I nodded. Felix smiled his wonderful smile again, and this time it took on a mischievous edge.

“Would you like us to?”

I had expected someone to take advantage of me. I hadn’t expected to be asked directly if I wanted it to happen. The appearance of Felix had changed the landscape of the competition waged between my physiological responses, and arousal had screamed into the lead; embarrassment still present, but flagging. My third attempt at a nonchalant shrug was anything but, and Felix saw right through it.

“Claude?”

“’Sup Captain?”

“Block the door.”

“Sure, Cap.”

Felix stood and placed a hand on my shoulder, then walked towards my feet while trailing it down my body. My spine shivered at the gentle touch, a wave of sensation that travelled behind his finger, then rebounded, tingling back upwards as his palm came to lie on my ass.

“Shake your head.”

I didn’t understand the order, but I did as he asked. Clothes shuffled to the floor behind me, and I realised he was undressing as he spoke.

“Okay, good. Now I don’t know exactly what rules you’re playing by, but I have some experience with this sort of thing. Consider this an order, or a thing I want from you, the way I want to use you; whatever it is. I am going to fuck you. But if you want me to stop at any point, or I hurt you in any way, shake your head again like that.”

I nodded. It was unlikely I would take him up on the offer, but mistress’ orders had been clear – let them do anything they want – and this was what he wanted. It was nice, in a way. If she’d told me to fuck anyone, I would have done, but I wasn’t going to complain that it turned out to be someone intelligent, polite, stunningly attractive, and with a far better than average knowledge of kink.

Felix’s hand squeezed once, then drifted to the side, his fingers trailing across my entrance. They flitted up and down, coaxing out both sensation and fluid, lingering on my nub just long enough for pleasure to build, teasing their way elsewhere when it did. Within minutes he had me ready, putty in his hands, panting, wanting, needing him. He was *good*.

My mistress had specifically told me not to speak a word; I decided that didn’t cover quiet gasps of pleasure. It would have been a struggle to hold them back anyway, but I didn’t even try, and they escaped between my lips in a two second beat, regular, accompanied by the light percussion of my thighs, twitching at Felix’s touch, clamouring for the next instrument to join the refrain.

When I felt the flesh of his cock, finally, it was a peak of its own, the climax of the first act; both thrilling and filled with the promise of things to come. His journey inside me was slow, a consistent opening of myself, a little at a time, each infinitesimal step a moment to be savoured at leisure, a singular experience set against a background of my drawn out sigh of release.

Felix gripped the sides of my waist and started to tease himself back out of me, stopping a moment before he left and reversing direction. I shook with tension and the desire for him to go faster, biting back a whimper that felt too pathetic to let out. My eyes closed, my body tensed, my perception shrunk to encompass the rod sliding into me. Slowly; agonisingly, blessedly slowly, he began to speed up.

My thighs thumped into the edge of the bench with each of his thrusts, a repetition that might have been painful if I could spare focus to think about it. His hands gripped tighter, strong fingers digging into my flesh, holding me down. The handcuffs made it difficult to move anyway, but his grasp accentuated the feeling, leaving me feeling as helpless as I was. I was close when he started to slow down.

He leaned forwards, pressing his back into mine, grabbing my head and pulling me backwards. I moved how he wanted, turning, my lips finding his and parting for a kiss. Our tongues danced as he continued to fuck me, and when he pulled back I saw the question in his eyes.

“I’m going to come inside you,” he said.

My heart skipped a beat. I should shake my head, I knew I should; I could see it in his face, he expected me to and was waiting for it. I had no doubt he would pull out if I did, finish on my back or make me swallow, like all responsible people who fucked strangers tied up in changing rooms.

But I was so, *so* close. I gave the smallest nod of my head, and his eyes went wide.

“Seriou-,” he tried to ask, but I cut off the word by kissing him again. He slammed himself into me in response.

Only a few thrusts later his rhythm started to falter, replaced by the skittering convulsions of men on the edge. I tensed everything, trying to squeeze him, increase his pleasure as he emptied himself inside me. Our kiss continued, became something else, tongues forgotten as he grunted into my mouth and I coasted the heavenly feeling of being filled. When he was done, he kissed me again, on the lips, then the forehead, then ruffled a hand through my hair, the same way I liked my mistress to.

“Good *girl*,” he said. Embarrassment found a second wind.

He slid out of me and I collapsed down onto the bench, hanging from the edge of a climax, waiting for Felix to finish me off with his hands. After everything else about the way he had acted, I didn’t think he was one to leave a girl hanging. Instead he sat down next to the bench again, and took my face in his hands. His touch was light. Light enough I could still shake my head.

“Claude is going to fuck you now, okay?”

Another tiny nod. Another “good *girl*.” The door banging as Claude moved away. Footsteps. Felix’s eyes flickering towards where they had come from. A hand on my thigh. A cock pushing against me.

Claude was larger than Felix, but lacked his delicate touch. Or maybe he was thinking, quite accurately, that I was no longer in the mood for such tenderness and needed exactly one thing from him. He delivered.

Felix kept hold of my face as Claude started ploughing into me, slamming himself into my hips and sending a shudder through the whole of my body. Our eyes met, and my heart raced, and I started to reach that ecstatic plateau, and that mischievous smile touched the corners of Felix’s mouth once again.

“Not until he does,” he said.

I let out another whimper, and Felix stroked my hair. My muscles tensed, relaxed, I took deep breaths and tried to let my mind wander somewhere else, detached from the pleasure it so desperately sought. Claude reached a hand under me and I lifted a little, letting him squeeze it between my and the bench and grab one of my breasts. His movements became more vigorous, then faster, then it happened.

“Don’t turn around,” said Felix.

At the same time he spoke a hand touched my back, soft, small, tracing lines through the sweat that pooled in my spine. There was someone else in the room with us, and they were touching me; I raised my eyebrows at Felix, pleading with him to let me look. He held my face, kissed me once on the forehead, looked up at the man fucking me, clamped one hand over my mouth, gripped tight, and told me to come for him.

Claude started to shake and I let go, my mind snapping back into focus as I was filled for a second time. I started to come too, waves of pleasure lancing upwards from the cock buried inside me, flowing upward and spiralling around the hand on my back. My body shook with exalted release, and I tried to scream, the exhalation muffled by the hand covering the lower part of my face and becoming a stifled groan of pure, unadulterated passion. I collapsed onto the bench, exhausted, tried not to lose focus on my surroundings, and felt a sudden stab of shock as I heard a voice I recognised well.

“Thank you, Felix.”

“Always a pleasure. Ashe still outside?”

“Indeed,” said Sophia, still stroking my back. “Have fun, pet?”

“Mmmm,” I said. It was a struggle.

“Uncuff her.”

“Will do,” said Claude. There was a clink and then strong arms reached around me, sliding key into lock and releasing me from my bindings. My arms were cramped, and I knew I should stretch them, and I let them flop limply to the floor. My mistress ruffled a hand in my hair, just as Felix had done earlier, and I wondered whether she had told him to do that.

“You did well,” she said. I made another murmur of agreement. “Here, put your clothes on.”

I tried to pull myself upright, and after a short struggle I managed it. I had needed a shower before, not I really needed one, but an order was an order, and I began dressing, pulling up my underwear despite the consequence still leaking out from me.

“So…” I began, still not quite ready to form words. “It was all…”

“A setup, yes, of course. You are *far* too precious to me to leave chained up with god knows who. But you did so very well, even let them finish inside you! I told them not to expect that. Well done!”

“Th-thank you, mistress,” I said, the final piece of my clothing, and the puzzle, slipping into place as I spoke.

“All dressed? Excellent. Then it’s time to leave. Felix, grab your boy outside and bring him to my place, he deserves a reward for all his hard work.”

My heart leapt at the word reward, then my brain caught up, and realised what was happening was quite the opposite of that my reflex response expected. I wasn’t going to be getting a reward. I was going to be one.

“Lets go,” said my Mistress, and though I knew I didn’t have to, I obeyed.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gwgavi/a_short_story_about_being_handcuffed_to_a_bench