So, this year I decided to participate in a secret santa gift exchange, organized by a message board where I frequently post. It's just like a regular secret santa, where names are dropped in a hat, and are randomly assigned to each participant. The secret santa then mails their person a christmas gift. Signing up requires you to PM your name and address to the person in charge, along with a list of hints, for if your santa has trouble deciding what to send you. Since this is the internet, and many forumers don't have an intimate knowledge of their person's likes and dislikes, a certain amount of googling is necessary to gather enough data. Some people refer to this as "stalking," but it's nothing like the bad kind. You don't have to worry about your santa hiding in the bushes, following you around, or peering into the windows of your home.
So, once the deadline for signups passed, we were all PMed with our "target's" information. There was plenty of time before christmas, but I wanted to go ahead and send something out, so I wouldn't have to worry about it, later. So I hastily selected a gift that my person would probably enjoy, and shipped it out, the next day. And then I went about my usual business, over the next couple weeks. The thought that I would be getting a gift, as well, drifted to the back of my mind.
I had almost completely forgotten about the secret santa game, when one morning I found that I had received two emails listed as being from "SANTA."
The first email started out normally enough, but...:
"Dear April,
I am your Secret Santa, this year. (Hope you don't mind, but I'll be communicating with you, using an alternate email address, so as to not reveal my forum identity prematurely.)
I must say that I've quite enjoyed stalking you, so far. I followed you to your other forums, read your blog, perused your flickr photo albums, and perhaps stumbled upon some websites that you thought I wouldn't find. So, I've read your OTHER blog, and studied your OTHER set of photos. And imagine Santa's surprise, when there were videos, as well! It would appear that you are a very naughty girl, April. Did you think using a different screen name for those perverted websites would be enough to escape Santa's jolly gaze? How does it feel to know that Old Saint Nick was watching intently, while you wore little more than Knee-Socks and touched yourself?
Well anyway, I feel that I've reached a roadblock in my e-stalking of you. So I think I'll be taking a more active approach, very soon.
Be Good,
SANTA"
Reading that, I got a little worried, thinking that my "Santa" might expose my dirty little secret to the forum. At the time, I didn't think much of that "active approach" remark.
The second email was just a screenshot of my xHamster page, an attached file of the song "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town," and the only text was some of its lyrics:
"...He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good..."
I always found those lyrics a little creepy. I decide not to reply to Santa's emails.
The next day, I get a call from an unlisted phone number. At first, after answering, all I can hear is breathing on the other end; but when I'm about to end the call, a deep voice starts to speak, slowly. "ho, ho, ho. Happy Holidays, April."
"Who is this?" I ask.
"It's Santa. Your Secret Santa, that is."
"How the hell did you get my number?"
Ignoring my question, he continues, "I was able to collect much more data, since I emailed you. And I've got a pretty good idea of what your christmas gift will be. I need time to prepare everything, but I bet you'll really like it."
After that, he abruptly hangs up, and I go about my day, as usual.
A week passes, without any messages or calls from Santa. That night, I watch some hentai, which quickly starts to get me excited; so I start rubbing my nipples, through my shirt. And just as I start to remove my pants, my phone beeps, indicating that I have a text message. It says, "No bondage, today?" It's from an unlisted number, so I just assume it was sent to me by mistake, and ignore it. Then, I grab a string of beads and place them against my crotch (because the bumps feel good against my pussy), and start to pull it slowly back and forth. Shortly after starting, another text comes, "I'd like to see you in chains." It seems strange to me, that I'd get "wrong number" messages like that, right now. But again, I ignore it, and return to my beads, pulling them harder against my clit; grinding against them until I reach orgasm. Then I lean back into my chair, while my excess juice drips onto the seat. No further texts come, that night, so I assume they realized it was the wrong number.
A few days later, I spend Christmas Eve alone, watching movies on TV, and eating leftover pizza. Then I have a nice long shower and crawl into bed to sleep.
A few hours later, I awake with a start as someone yanks the covers off of the bed. Someone has broken into my room! A gust of cold winter air implies that they came in through the window, but I don't have time to contemplate further than that before the light switches on. Squinting against the sudden brightness, I see that the intruder is a tall muscular young man, wearing a santa suit several sizes too large. He's even carrying a big red sack and wearing an ill-fitting fake beard. Before I can ask who he is or what he wants, he lunges forward and pins me to the bed. I try to fight him, but my small frame is no match for such a big powerful body. Securing both of my wrists in one large hand, he uses the other to rummage through his sack. While searching for something, he says, "Merry Christmas, April. You may have guessed by now, but I'm your Secret Santa. Be a good girl and co-operate, or links to your dirty blog might end up all over the forum. And your family and friends might just get some of your naked photos in the mail. If you behave and do exactly as Santa says, then you'll get a reward and this can be an enjoyable experience for both of us. Understand?"
Not knowing what to say, I reply, "Y-yes, Santa."
After pulling out some rope, he begins by tying my arms behind my back, and shoving a bit gag into my mouth. Then he positions me so that I'm kneeling on the bed, with my legs spread apart, and uses a spreader bar to be sure I keep them that way. And lastly, he forces me to lean forward until my chest is pressed against the mattress, and somehow ties me so that I can't leave that position. The result is that I have my ass sticking up in the air, and no way to defend myself, when he rips off my nightgown.
He takes a moment to admire his handy work, and snap a few cell-phone photos of my fully exposed nether region. Then he picks up his sack and says, "At first, I only intended to send you a kindle book, or something; but then I got a better idea when I stumbled upon your blog and all those naughty photos and videos. Knowing that my target was secretly a perverted bondage slut- tying yourself up, spreading your legs for all the internet to see, and getting off on knowing that other perverts are stroking their cocks while watching you... I figured there's only one way Santa can please such a dirty girl: By punishing her."
Santa goes on to explain that he used his expert stalking skills to find my cell phone number, hide in the bushes outside my window, and observe me for a couple weeks. He even broke into my home on multiple occasions, while I was at work, to install hidden cameras and rifle through my underwear drawer. He points to one camera in particular, situated on the wall opposite the bed that he says is a webcam broadcasting santa's gift to the internet. Apparently, he also hacked my blog to provide my readers with an embedded link to the steaming broadcast.
Then he empties his sack of "toys" onto the bed. (All Christmas-themed sex toys. Where did Santa even find all of these?) First he selects a bottle of peppermint-scented lube, and squirts some onto my ass and makes a pointless mess of rubbing the pink ooze all over my lower body and down my thighs. Then he rubs a generous amount around my butthole, before pressing the nozzle of the bottle against the hole and squeezing hard, sending a large amount of the lube gushing inside me. The juice is cold at first, so I flinch and squirm, but then as my body heat warms it up, I start to enjoy the slimy feeling. Then he picks up a fat green buttplug designed to look like a christmas tree, and slowly pushes it into my well-lubricated hole. I moan lightly, as it gradually stretches my opening more and more before popping completely inside. After that, Santa reveals that it's a vibrating buttplug, and turns the vibe on, at the lowest setting.
He sits back and watches me for a while, my butt wiggling as I squirm against the ropes, occasionally making surprised moans whenever he randomly turns the vibration up to a much higher setting. Once he starts to get bored with that, he pulls me into an upright sitting position, but leaves the plug in, on a medium setting.
He then begins fondling my breasts, slapping them lightly and pinching my nipples. "Santa was right about you, April," he says, "you love having that big plug up your ass, don't you?" slap slap "I bet you're already getting wet, you slut. Clearly, this isn't adequate punishment, for you." Pushing me down onto my chest again, he picks up another item, from his pile of naughty toys. A very long, thick dildo, with red and white stripes, like a candy cane. Then he removes the buttplug and tosses it aside. "This isn't big enough for such a perverted girl. But Santa has something much better for you." After slathering the snake-like dildo with lube, he starts pushing it into my butthole. The first few inches feel good sliding in, but I gasp as it starts to slowly venture deeper than I thought it would. Deeper than I've ever had anything else. (I close my eyes and wonder if this is what it would feel like if a curious tentacle was invading my ass.) My panting grows heavier as it fills me up more and more, until I feel completely full; but then mmm I moan as it goes in a little deeper, still, and I can aaahh feel the other end slip inside. It tries to slide out, but Santa pushes it back inside me. "Try to hold it in, April, like a good girl. If, for thirty minutes, you can resist the urge to show the whole internet what it looks like to poop out a giant red and white dildo, you'll get a reward. But if you just let it all slide out onto your bed, like a dirty girl, you'll be punished."
He pulls out a festive egg timer and sets it for thirty minutes. As I struggle to hold the dildo in, Santa sets up a second webcam showing a close-up of my butt, then sits down to enjoy the show.
I try my best to hold it in, clenching whatever butt muscle is is good for that. But it's hard, in this position, with my legs spread and ass sticking up in the air... Hard to keep the hole closed. After a few minutes, I start to pant and sweat. Being so full makes it feel like I need to use the bathroom, as my body desperately tries to eject the thing. But it kind of feels good, every time I shift, I can feel it bumping around inside me, and again I imagine a writhing tentacle. I also ponder what the reward would be, if I could hold it in, or the punishment, if I can't. It's exciting to consider the possibilities, but also frightening, as I wonder if I should have tried to call the police, when I still had the chance. As my imagination continues to run perverted scenarios, I wonder if I'll be abducted- if "Santa" will kidnap me away to the north-pole to be continually used as his sexual plaything, long after Christmas is over. I wonder if he has a stable full of young women from his "naughty" list, in various forms of bondage. Then I envision eight busty, naked ladies wearing harnesses and fake antlers, pulling santa's sleigh down a crowded street, while shocked onlookers gawk and whisper snap photos of their sinful procession. Fluffy little reindeer tails, attached to buttplugs, bobbing as they trot along.
No idea how much time passed, and I guess I got wrapped up in my thoughts and relaxed too much; because suddenly I feel the long christmas dildo start to poke its way out of my anus and slowly escape. I consider trying to re-clench, and stop it from coming out any further, but it feels too good sliding out, that I just let it go. mmm Right after the last of it drops out onto the bed, I hear the ding if the timer. SO CLOSE! Just a little longer, and I would have...... won a really weird challenge.
Santa rises from his seat, and says "bad girl, April. You didn't hold it in, like Santa asked you to. And your face looked so contented while you were shitting out that christmas monstrosity. Looks like you'll have to be punished, after all."
Gathering some items from his pile of toys, he first takes that long thick dildo and shoves it back into my ass, this time following up with the buttplug from before, to hold it into place. "Since you can't hold it in on your own, we'll try it this way." Then he turns the vibration up to the highest setting and picks up another item, a paddle with a cartoon santa drawn on it. Without bothering to comment, he goes straight to work, spanking my naughty ass with it. He'll paddle one cheek a few times, then switch to the other for a while, and continue to alternate back and forth. Not spanking hard enough to really hurt, but hard enough that the skin will probably be red when he's finished.
When he was satisfied that I had been thoroughly spanked, he set down the paddle, grabbed his empty sack, and walked over to the open window.
........ Then he climbed out the window, chuckling to himself.
Uh... Hey santa, where ya goin'?
aaaaand, he's gone.
And I'm still all tied up, and gagged, and and....... crap.
I wonder how my housemates will react, upon discovering me, when they return from visiting family, in a couple days.
But they might not be the first to find me, since that window is still wide open, and the webcams are still broadcasting my predicament to the internet.
"He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!""
THE END!
--------------------------------------------------
Part of this story was inspired by an animated .gif I saw somewhere, that was taken from a porn scene.
Here is the link to it. XD
Monday, December 19, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
OH GOD
Okay, so. This is a thing that just happened, like ten minutes ago.
I was in the mood for some full-body self-bondage, and I thought "I might as well get the camera out, too, and maybe it'll be some good footage for xhamster."
So, I go about gathering all of my innocent-looking ties, belts, scraps of yarn, etc. And I position the camera and aimed it at the bed. Then I stripped and got down to business. I didn't plan ahead of time, how I would tie what and where, so I was just wingin' it, on camera.
I get mostly tied up, body, legs, gag, etc. And I realize that I haven't set aside anything for hand-tying. All that's left is some yarn, so I figure that'll work. So I run it through some torso-bondage in the back, and make two loopy bits wide enough to stick my hands through. After that, I can twist my hands one way to make it tighter, and twist the other way to loosen the ties. That way (in theory) I should easily be able to get free when I'm ready. That's how I usually do it, except that I usually use a neck tie, which is much thicker and simpler. Take note that all of this was being done behind my back, so I couldn't really see what I was doing. And I ended up getting the yarn loops too far apart, which allowed for too much arm-freedom. so I just started randomly complicating the loops, to shorten the distance between them. (I can't explain what exactly I did, because I'm not even sure.) So, once I felt the loops were close enough, I put on my blindfold and stuck my hands in their respective loops. Then I twisted, them to tighten the loops, and proceeded to pretend to struggle for a while.
At some point, during my struggling around, I must have absentmindedly twisted and complicated my hands some more, because I noted that the yarn SURE WAS TIGHT, GEE. And attempted to untwist it, just a little. That just made it tighter, though. So I tried untwisting in the other direction. That also made it tighter.
It was around that point I realized that I couldn't free my hands. I couldn't remember how I tied them or how to untie them, so I started to panic.
I was seriously tied.
I did too thorough of a job, and could barely move my arms and legs.
OH GOD. I'M STUCK. AM I GOING TO HAVE TO CALL FOR HELP???? IS THIS THE DAY MY FAMILY DISCOVERS MY DEEP DARK SECRET. (the secret is that I'm an idiot, apparently.)
I managed to get to my feet and push the gag out of my mouth. Lot of good that did, since I'd probably die before asking for help. No no, I'm a competent lass, I can get out of this situation.
I CAN, RIGHT?????
I struggle around more seriously, now, and my hands find the knot to SOMETHING, so I untie it. That did nothing, because that knot was only related to some harmless boob bondage. So I struggle more and try to use my muscles to BURST OUT of the weak yarn that binds me. TO NO AVAIL. If you didn't know, I have absolutely no muscle mass. I'm all soft and squishy.
Then a better idea hits me: THE SCISSORS!
If I could manage to both get to, and locate, AND get my hands on the scissors, I could cut my hands free. Harder than it sounds when you are blindfolded with your legs/feet tied together and hands bound tightly behind your back. Of course, I never occurred to me to have the scissors near-by in the case of an emergency.
But, luckily, I've been living in the same room for pretty much my entire life, so I know the layout well enough to navigate blindly. And I always keep the scissors in a cup on my desk, amongst some pens and pencils. The only issue is getting there... and managing to reach he cup.
First I tried hopping over, which didn't work too well. Then I tried shuffling my feet, and slowly inching over to the desk. It took a lot longer than it would have to just walk over there. But eventually I got there, and with my back to the desk, I managed to lean back and grab the scissors. Then I waddled back to the camera, so it could see why I suddenly got up and hopped away. So, with my butt to the camera, I positioned the scissors and snipped my way to hand-related freedom.
Not wanting to waste the effort I went to, in tying myself, I left everything else as-is... And proceeded to masturbate, of course. :D Not sure if I'll post the video to xhamster, or not. It's longer than they allow, so I'd have to cut it into two parts. Maybe I should just completely edit out the stupid part. hmmmmmmmm
If it was a poltergeist that got me all tangled up in that yarn, then I guess it was a guardian angel that pushed the pen cup into reach. Thanks for helping me, even though I'm a pervert!
tl;dr: I'm an idiot. The end.
I was in the mood for some full-body self-bondage, and I thought "I might as well get the camera out, too, and maybe it'll be some good footage for xhamster."
So, I go about gathering all of my innocent-looking ties, belts, scraps of yarn, etc. And I position the camera and aimed it at the bed. Then I stripped and got down to business. I didn't plan ahead of time, how I would tie what and where, so I was just wingin' it, on camera.
I get mostly tied up, body, legs, gag, etc. And I realize that I haven't set aside anything for hand-tying. All that's left is some yarn, so I figure that'll work. So I run it through some torso-bondage in the back, and make two loopy bits wide enough to stick my hands through. After that, I can twist my hands one way to make it tighter, and twist the other way to loosen the ties. That way (in theory) I should easily be able to get free when I'm ready. That's how I usually do it, except that I usually use a neck tie, which is much thicker and simpler. Take note that all of this was being done behind my back, so I couldn't really see what I was doing. And I ended up getting the yarn loops too far apart, which allowed for too much arm-freedom. so I just started randomly complicating the loops, to shorten the distance between them. (I can't explain what exactly I did, because I'm not even sure.) So, once I felt the loops were close enough, I put on my blindfold and stuck my hands in their respective loops. Then I twisted, them to tighten the loops, and proceeded to pretend to struggle for a while.
At some point, during my struggling around, I must have absentmindedly twisted and complicated my hands some more, because I noted that the yarn SURE WAS TIGHT, GEE. And attempted to untwist it, just a little. That just made it tighter, though. So I tried untwisting in the other direction. That also made it tighter.
It was around that point I realized that I couldn't free my hands. I couldn't remember how I tied them or how to untie them, so I started to panic.
I was seriously tied.
I did too thorough of a job, and could barely move my arms and legs.
OH GOD. I'M STUCK. AM I GOING TO HAVE TO CALL FOR HELP???? IS THIS THE DAY MY FAMILY DISCOVERS MY DEEP DARK SECRET. (the secret is that I'm an idiot, apparently.)
I managed to get to my feet and push the gag out of my mouth. Lot of good that did, since I'd probably die before asking for help. No no, I'm a competent lass, I can get out of this situation.
I CAN, RIGHT?????
I struggle around more seriously, now, and my hands find the knot to SOMETHING, so I untie it. That did nothing, because that knot was only related to some harmless boob bondage. So I struggle more and try to use my muscles to BURST OUT of the weak yarn that binds me. TO NO AVAIL. If you didn't know, I have absolutely no muscle mass. I'm all soft and squishy.
Then a better idea hits me: THE SCISSORS!
If I could manage to both get to, and locate, AND get my hands on the scissors, I could cut my hands free. Harder than it sounds when you are blindfolded with your legs/feet tied together and hands bound tightly behind your back. Of course, I never occurred to me to have the scissors near-by in the case of an emergency.
But, luckily, I've been living in the same room for pretty much my entire life, so I know the layout well enough to navigate blindly. And I always keep the scissors in a cup on my desk, amongst some pens and pencils. The only issue is getting there... and managing to reach he cup.
First I tried hopping over, which didn't work too well. Then I tried shuffling my feet, and slowly inching over to the desk. It took a lot longer than it would have to just walk over there. But eventually I got there, and with my back to the desk, I managed to lean back and grab the scissors. Then I waddled back to the camera, so it could see why I suddenly got up and hopped away. So, with my butt to the camera, I positioned the scissors and snipped my way to hand-related freedom.
Not wanting to waste the effort I went to, in tying myself, I left everything else as-is... And proceeded to masturbate, of course. :D Not sure if I'll post the video to xhamster, or not. It's longer than they allow, so I'd have to cut it into two parts. Maybe I should just completely edit out the stupid part. hmmmmmmmm
If it was a poltergeist that got me all tangled up in that yarn, then I guess it was a guardian angel that pushed the pen cup into reach. Thanks for helping me, even though I'm a pervert!
tl;dr: I'm an idiot. The end.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Coming to stores, this fall!
I was caught. Asleep at my desk.
Currently, I'm working in the marketing department of my company. Sometimes, we send people to do product demonstrations; but for the most-part, I just sit at a computer all day, doing boring desk work. The company itself is pretty unremarkable, dealing in a variety of consumer products; from small electronics to larger things like furniture.
The boss has a strange sense of humour; so if someone messes up, he likes to give out little punishments in the form of product demonstrations. It's usually something ridiculous and embarassing, like a person who can't sing demoing a karaoke machine. Or a conservative man modeling the new line of women's apparel. So, after I was caught dozing off at my desk, I wasn't suprised that I was later asked to do a product demonstration. I wasn't really informed on what product I was going to demo, though; just given an address for one of the company's stores, and told that I would be filled in upon arrival.
As soon as I arrive, I'm rushed to change into a one-piece swimsuit. So, since it's summer and all, I figure I'm modeling swimwear, and that's it. It's blue, and pretty standard-looking, but it fits really tight, especially around the chest area. I consider asking for a larger size, but as soon as I come out of the changing room, I'm rushed off again, without a chance to say anything. This time, I'm sent into a small display room, with full-size windows taking up three walls. I'm told that the room faces the street, and that the sidewalk passing in front of it is pretty busy with pedestrians, this time of day. Currently, the windows have curtains drawn, so passers-by can't see in, yet. I note that the curtains appear to operate mechanically, and probably all open at once, at the press of a button.
The only other thing in the room with me is a large chair, with a strange futuristic design, like it could transform into a robot at any moment. I chuckle at the thought. It's also possible that this silly sci-fi inspired chair is what I'm supposed to demo. What do I do? Just sit in it all day, pretending like it's the most comfortable and stylish chair ever (and totally not ridiculous)? Even if that's not what they intended, I decide I'm sitting in it, anyway. I am the best at sitting on things.
As soon as I plant my ass on the thing and lean back, the chair seriously comes to life! A flat mechanical arm thing quickly flies out, wraps around my waist and locks into place on the other side, like a belt, strapping me to the chair. Then, similar straps shoot out of the arms and front legs of the chair, grabbing my wrists and legs and locking them into place. Around that time I start calling for help, as I have clearly angered the crazy haunted robot chair. Then, one of the store clerks comes in and tells me not to panic, as this chair is the product I'm meant to demonstrate. Apparently, it's a mechanical bondage chair thing, and a person is controlling it from another room. Then the clerk straps a ball-gag over my mouth and leaves the room. After she locks the door, the curtains open to reveal that a small crowd has already gathered in front of the display window. I blush a bit... Since I'm gagged, I can't explain the situation to them at all; that this is a product demonstration and so on. In spite of that, the members of the "audience" seems to have oddly eager looks on their faces. Like they already know what to expect.
Suddenly, two long mechanical arms come out of the sides of the chair, with robotic hands attached. And, of course, they go straight for my chest. Roughly examining each breast, through the thin fabric of my swimsuit, until my nipples become hard enough for the mechanical "fingers" to clamp down on them, tugging and squeezing for several minutes. Afterwards, as a bit of drool starts to drip out around the gag, they release my breasts and start to tug on the fabric of my swim suit; wasting no time in tearing it enough to allow my chest to spill out, for all to see. My blush deepens. I didn't know that this "punishment" would include being stripped in front of a group of strangers. My mind tells me that I should feel ashamed, but the pleased reactions of the onlookers is sort of boosting my self-esteem, a bit.
But I don't have much time to think about it, before the chair comes to life again and starts to change shape. The seat splits, forcing my legs to be spread apart, and sprouts some sort of padded stirrup things to hold up my legs; while the arms of the chair raise up and merge with the back, which then reclines a bit. So now I'm laying back a bit, with my arms bound above my head, and my knees raised up. And that's when those damn robotic hands start exploring again, this time fondling my thighs and ass, before starting to poke around my crotch area. Rubbing up and down, lightly pinching my pussy lips through the swimsuit. Then it quickly switched to tugging on the fabric, again, and pulling downwards so that it wedges beween my labia, before ripping away the entire seat of the suit.
With the way everything is positioned, my ass is facing the display window, so the ever-growing crowd of onlookers get a very good view of my crotch. The robotic hands go back to fondling my ass, spreading the cheeks apart, to expose my asshole, for good measure. Then a third hand appears to stroke my pussy a bit more, and uses two of its "fingers" to spread the lips open. And the hands stay that way, keeping everything spread wide open. Meanwhile, a few robotic tentacles had come out of some part of the chair, and started squirting some mystery fluid onto my body. Covering my breasts in it, leaving trails of it down my torso, dripping it all over my thighs, and eventually taking special effort to spray a lot onto my asshole.
Then the tentacles retract back to wherever they came from... except one, which continues to slither up and down the length of my pussy, between the lips, and rubbing its oozing tip around the rim of my asshole. mmm it feels pretty good, too, despite how humiliating this situation is. Then, the whole thing starts to vibrate; like a massage chair, but strong enough to make my breasts jiggle a little bit. And then out comes two tentacle arms with weird clear cup things on the ends, and they attach to my breasts, fitting so well that they are air-tight; and then the suction starts. Sucking rhythmically on my nipples, like some sort of milking machine. But they'll never get any milk out of me. So they just keep sucking and sucking, for several minutes. And all of this is making me pretty aroused, so little moans start to slip out, as I fidget in my seat.
And then everything stops. The vibration, the rubbing, the sucking, it all ceases, as more straps fly out of the chair and wrap around me, binding my body, arms, and legs to the contraption much tighter than before; as if whoever is controling the chair doesn't feel like I'm being "punished" enough, yet. And the suction things and oozing tentacle remove themselves and retract back into the chair. Then, the machine transforms again. No longer resembling a chair, it forces me into an upright position, very close to the display window, and then bends forward, so that my breasts and part of my face are pressed against the glass.
For a while, nothing else happens. I just have to stay that way, getting a clear look at the people staring intently at my nipples squished flat on the window. I'm really embarassed, by this turn of events. I can see some of them smirking and saying things, but I can't hear what they say. Some people have been using their camera phones to take photos, or perhaps videos. Noooo, don't photograph my naughty bits. Don't record me being molested by a chair! What if they share it with their friends, or put it all over the internet?? No no, don't humiliate me any more than this. My face is completely red, as I am forced to watch a large crowd of people watching me, seeing the perverted state that I'm in. What must they think of me, I wonder. Do they think I'm some slut who gets off on being teased by weird robots and having my private spots exposed in public? Or do they think I'm someone's sex slave, being punished for playing by myself without permission? Do they think I'm an exhibitionist who is silently begging for them to look closer at my dirty body? There's so much drool coming out of the holes of the ball gag, by now, that it's getting on the window; and my pussy is still throbbing from the earlier teasing. I think I can feel some of my juice dripping down my thigh. Can they see that? Can they hear me panting through the glass? Can they tell that being squeezed so tightly by all of these straps is making me more excited? Do they know that I'm starting to fantasize about what they would do to me, if there wasn't this glass blocking the way? Touching me all over with filthy, curious hands, sniffing the naughty scent coming from my crotch, tasting my exposed flesh... Would they put more bondage gear on me? Collars, ropes, chains, and more straps tying me tightly into whatever dirty poses they want. Would they take turns forcing me to take their swollen manhood into my mouth? Will they thrust roughly into my pussy? By now, I'm panting heavily, completely aroused by the situation I'm in.
After a while of that, I can hear something new coming out of the machine behind me, but I can't see it. And then, I realise why it was putting so much of that mystery fluid on my asshole, earlier. Something forces its way into my anus. I gasp and wince a bit. It's somthing thick and long. It eases in slowly as I pant and try to relax. Once it's in all the way, it pauses for a moment, to let me adjust to the size. And then it quickly slides- mmm... nearly all the way out, before- aahh... pounding its way back into me. Then it keeps going, in and out- mmm... making me moan every time it hits deep within me. Meanwhile, one of those robotic hands resumes teasing my crotch. Rubbing, pinching, and lightly spanking it, before finally settling on rubbing the clit. oohhh...
While it continues like this, I can't do anything else but enjoy it and watch the crowd, who have started getting excited themselves. Some of whom are bold enough to open their pants and start stroking their cocks. Do they know that I'm watching their crotches intently? Can they tell that I'm imagining everyone spraying their sperm all over my body? After several minutes of being pounded in the ass by the machine's giant "cock," and getting teased relentlessly up front, it starts to feel really good and I think I'm probably close to climax. Since this is a bondage and punishment type scenario, I wonder if I should be asking some "master" for permission to orgasm. But since I'm gagged and there's no one on this side of the glass to ask, I figure it doesn't matter; and continue panting and moaning, and trying to squirm within all the straps.
Then, suddenly, the machine stops again. It pulls its robotic cock out of my ass and removes its hand from my crotch, and transforms back into its original chair-like form, away from the window. And then I'm released from all of the straps. Apparently free to go. Looking back at the door, I notice that at some point, my clothes were left over there, folded and stacked on the floor. huh.
I'm kind of dissipointed that I didn't get to "finish," and the crowd on the other side of the window looks a little dissipointed, too. So I do the only thing that seems logical at the moment... I sit down on the floor, right in front of the window, with my legs spread; giving everyone a better look at my naughty pussy, and at how wet it became from being watched, while being violated by a crazy chair robot. Then, switching to a kneeling position, I use my hand to masturbate, right there, while lightly rubbing my hard nipples against the cold glass. mmmm... ahhhh... I sandwich my middle finger between my pussy lips and rub my hand up and down, against my clit. oohhh... Thrusting my hips along with it... mmmmMMMM... aaaahhhh... Once I'm finally able to have my orgasm, the audience rewards me with a shower of cum... spalttered against the outside of the display window.
Afterwards, the curtains close. So, I go over to where my clothes are, and notice there is also an envelope stuffed with money, addressed to a name that is definitely not mine. Come to think of it, no one asked for my name, or what company I worked for, before rushing me off to change into that swimsuit.
I think someone made a mistake somewhere.
So, I dress as quickly as possible, pocket the money, and rush out of there without speaking to anyone. And when I go into work, the next day, the boss asks me why I never showed up for the kitchen appliance demonstration that I was supposed to do. At a store on a completely different street, with a woefully similar-looking name.
OOPS!
Currently, I'm working in the marketing department of my company. Sometimes, we send people to do product demonstrations; but for the most-part, I just sit at a computer all day, doing boring desk work. The company itself is pretty unremarkable, dealing in a variety of consumer products; from small electronics to larger things like furniture.
The boss has a strange sense of humour; so if someone messes up, he likes to give out little punishments in the form of product demonstrations. It's usually something ridiculous and embarassing, like a person who can't sing demoing a karaoke machine. Or a conservative man modeling the new line of women's apparel. So, after I was caught dozing off at my desk, I wasn't suprised that I was later asked to do a product demonstration. I wasn't really informed on what product I was going to demo, though; just given an address for one of the company's stores, and told that I would be filled in upon arrival.
As soon as I arrive, I'm rushed to change into a one-piece swimsuit. So, since it's summer and all, I figure I'm modeling swimwear, and that's it. It's blue, and pretty standard-looking, but it fits really tight, especially around the chest area. I consider asking for a larger size, but as soon as I come out of the changing room, I'm rushed off again, without a chance to say anything. This time, I'm sent into a small display room, with full-size windows taking up three walls. I'm told that the room faces the street, and that the sidewalk passing in front of it is pretty busy with pedestrians, this time of day. Currently, the windows have curtains drawn, so passers-by can't see in, yet. I note that the curtains appear to operate mechanically, and probably all open at once, at the press of a button.
The only other thing in the room with me is a large chair, with a strange futuristic design, like it could transform into a robot at any moment. I chuckle at the thought. It's also possible that this silly sci-fi inspired chair is what I'm supposed to demo. What do I do? Just sit in it all day, pretending like it's the most comfortable and stylish chair ever (and totally not ridiculous)? Even if that's not what they intended, I decide I'm sitting in it, anyway. I am the best at sitting on things.
As soon as I plant my ass on the thing and lean back, the chair seriously comes to life! A flat mechanical arm thing quickly flies out, wraps around my waist and locks into place on the other side, like a belt, strapping me to the chair. Then, similar straps shoot out of the arms and front legs of the chair, grabbing my wrists and legs and locking them into place. Around that time I start calling for help, as I have clearly angered the crazy haunted robot chair. Then, one of the store clerks comes in and tells me not to panic, as this chair is the product I'm meant to demonstrate. Apparently, it's a mechanical bondage chair thing, and a person is controlling it from another room. Then the clerk straps a ball-gag over my mouth and leaves the room. After she locks the door, the curtains open to reveal that a small crowd has already gathered in front of the display window. I blush a bit... Since I'm gagged, I can't explain the situation to them at all; that this is a product demonstration and so on. In spite of that, the members of the "audience" seems to have oddly eager looks on their faces. Like they already know what to expect.
Suddenly, two long mechanical arms come out of the sides of the chair, with robotic hands attached. And, of course, they go straight for my chest. Roughly examining each breast, through the thin fabric of my swimsuit, until my nipples become hard enough for the mechanical "fingers" to clamp down on them, tugging and squeezing for several minutes. Afterwards, as a bit of drool starts to drip out around the gag, they release my breasts and start to tug on the fabric of my swim suit; wasting no time in tearing it enough to allow my chest to spill out, for all to see. My blush deepens. I didn't know that this "punishment" would include being stripped in front of a group of strangers. My mind tells me that I should feel ashamed, but the pleased reactions of the onlookers is sort of boosting my self-esteem, a bit.
But I don't have much time to think about it, before the chair comes to life again and starts to change shape. The seat splits, forcing my legs to be spread apart, and sprouts some sort of padded stirrup things to hold up my legs; while the arms of the chair raise up and merge with the back, which then reclines a bit. So now I'm laying back a bit, with my arms bound above my head, and my knees raised up. And that's when those damn robotic hands start exploring again, this time fondling my thighs and ass, before starting to poke around my crotch area. Rubbing up and down, lightly pinching my pussy lips through the swimsuit. Then it quickly switched to tugging on the fabric, again, and pulling downwards so that it wedges beween my labia, before ripping away the entire seat of the suit.
With the way everything is positioned, my ass is facing the display window, so the ever-growing crowd of onlookers get a very good view of my crotch. The robotic hands go back to fondling my ass, spreading the cheeks apart, to expose my asshole, for good measure. Then a third hand appears to stroke my pussy a bit more, and uses two of its "fingers" to spread the lips open. And the hands stay that way, keeping everything spread wide open. Meanwhile, a few robotic tentacles had come out of some part of the chair, and started squirting some mystery fluid onto my body. Covering my breasts in it, leaving trails of it down my torso, dripping it all over my thighs, and eventually taking special effort to spray a lot onto my asshole.
Then the tentacles retract back to wherever they came from... except one, which continues to slither up and down the length of my pussy, between the lips, and rubbing its oozing tip around the rim of my asshole. mmm it feels pretty good, too, despite how humiliating this situation is. Then, the whole thing starts to vibrate; like a massage chair, but strong enough to make my breasts jiggle a little bit. And then out comes two tentacle arms with weird clear cup things on the ends, and they attach to my breasts, fitting so well that they are air-tight; and then the suction starts. Sucking rhythmically on my nipples, like some sort of milking machine. But they'll never get any milk out of me. So they just keep sucking and sucking, for several minutes. And all of this is making me pretty aroused, so little moans start to slip out, as I fidget in my seat.
And then everything stops. The vibration, the rubbing, the sucking, it all ceases, as more straps fly out of the chair and wrap around me, binding my body, arms, and legs to the contraption much tighter than before; as if whoever is controling the chair doesn't feel like I'm being "punished" enough, yet. And the suction things and oozing tentacle remove themselves and retract back into the chair. Then, the machine transforms again. No longer resembling a chair, it forces me into an upright position, very close to the display window, and then bends forward, so that my breasts and part of my face are pressed against the glass.
For a while, nothing else happens. I just have to stay that way, getting a clear look at the people staring intently at my nipples squished flat on the window. I'm really embarassed, by this turn of events. I can see some of them smirking and saying things, but I can't hear what they say. Some people have been using their camera phones to take photos, or perhaps videos. Noooo, don't photograph my naughty bits. Don't record me being molested by a chair! What if they share it with their friends, or put it all over the internet?? No no, don't humiliate me any more than this. My face is completely red, as I am forced to watch a large crowd of people watching me, seeing the perverted state that I'm in. What must they think of me, I wonder. Do they think I'm some slut who gets off on being teased by weird robots and having my private spots exposed in public? Or do they think I'm someone's sex slave, being punished for playing by myself without permission? Do they think I'm an exhibitionist who is silently begging for them to look closer at my dirty body? There's so much drool coming out of the holes of the ball gag, by now, that it's getting on the window; and my pussy is still throbbing from the earlier teasing. I think I can feel some of my juice dripping down my thigh. Can they see that? Can they hear me panting through the glass? Can they tell that being squeezed so tightly by all of these straps is making me more excited? Do they know that I'm starting to fantasize about what they would do to me, if there wasn't this glass blocking the way? Touching me all over with filthy, curious hands, sniffing the naughty scent coming from my crotch, tasting my exposed flesh... Would they put more bondage gear on me? Collars, ropes, chains, and more straps tying me tightly into whatever dirty poses they want. Would they take turns forcing me to take their swollen manhood into my mouth? Will they thrust roughly into my pussy? By now, I'm panting heavily, completely aroused by the situation I'm in.
After a while of that, I can hear something new coming out of the machine behind me, but I can't see it. And then, I realise why it was putting so much of that mystery fluid on my asshole, earlier. Something forces its way into my anus. I gasp and wince a bit. It's somthing thick and long. It eases in slowly as I pant and try to relax. Once it's in all the way, it pauses for a moment, to let me adjust to the size. And then it quickly slides- mmm... nearly all the way out, before- aahh... pounding its way back into me. Then it keeps going, in and out- mmm... making me moan every time it hits deep within me. Meanwhile, one of those robotic hands resumes teasing my crotch. Rubbing, pinching, and lightly spanking it, before finally settling on rubbing the clit. oohhh...
While it continues like this, I can't do anything else but enjoy it and watch the crowd, who have started getting excited themselves. Some of whom are bold enough to open their pants and start stroking their cocks. Do they know that I'm watching their crotches intently? Can they tell that I'm imagining everyone spraying their sperm all over my body? After several minutes of being pounded in the ass by the machine's giant "cock," and getting teased relentlessly up front, it starts to feel really good and I think I'm probably close to climax. Since this is a bondage and punishment type scenario, I wonder if I should be asking some "master" for permission to orgasm. But since I'm gagged and there's no one on this side of the glass to ask, I figure it doesn't matter; and continue panting and moaning, and trying to squirm within all the straps.
Then, suddenly, the machine stops again. It pulls its robotic cock out of my ass and removes its hand from my crotch, and transforms back into its original chair-like form, away from the window. And then I'm released from all of the straps. Apparently free to go. Looking back at the door, I notice that at some point, my clothes were left over there, folded and stacked on the floor. huh.
I'm kind of dissipointed that I didn't get to "finish," and the crowd on the other side of the window looks a little dissipointed, too. So I do the only thing that seems logical at the moment... I sit down on the floor, right in front of the window, with my legs spread; giving everyone a better look at my naughty pussy, and at how wet it became from being watched, while being violated by a crazy chair robot. Then, switching to a kneeling position, I use my hand to masturbate, right there, while lightly rubbing my hard nipples against the cold glass. mmmm... ahhhh... I sandwich my middle finger between my pussy lips and rub my hand up and down, against my clit. oohhh... Thrusting my hips along with it... mmmmMMMM... aaaahhhh... Once I'm finally able to have my orgasm, the audience rewards me with a shower of cum... spalttered against the outside of the display window.
Afterwards, the curtains close. So, I go over to where my clothes are, and notice there is also an envelope stuffed with money, addressed to a name that is definitely not mine. Come to think of it, no one asked for my name, or what company I worked for, before rushing me off to change into that swimsuit.
I think someone made a mistake somewhere.
So, I dress as quickly as possible, pocket the money, and rush out of there without speaking to anyone. And when I go into work, the next day, the boss asks me why I never showed up for the kitchen appliance demonstration that I was supposed to do. At a store on a completely different street, with a woefully similar-looking name.
OOPS!
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