Margaret Goes Dutch Pt. 02

'Aren't you glad I go to yoga?' said Margaret.

I pulled the chest binding tight, cinching the hemp ropes, running above and below her breasts, together in the centre of her cleavage, trapping and lifting them. Reaching for her left leg, I bent the calf back against the thigh, grabbed her left hand and bound the wrist securely to the ankle. I quickly added a second binding just above the crook of the knee.

'Aren't you glad you go to yoga,' I replied, chuckling, bending the other leg, and similarly securing it.

Which left Margaret sitting on the edge of my desk in the classic open leg crab position. With her knees lifted high enough to knot ankles to wrists, she couldn't comfortably close her legs, but to widen the angle I tied one end of a rope to the binding of the left leg, passed it through the knot in the centre of her back, through a loop on the right leg binding, and back to the left leg.

'Spread your legs wide, Margaret,' I said, giving the rope a sharp tug to take in the slack, and then secured it. Another rope from a leg binding looped behind her neck, pulled tight and secured to the other leg completed the tie, so that she could neither close her legs nor lower them.

Admiring my rope work, I gently lowered her until she was lying on her back, a naked, living ornament on the bare, polished mahogany surface, with her legs spread wide, exposing her vulva and anus to whatever diabolical pleasures took my fancy.

We had been experimenting with Japanese style rope binding for several months, and, in addition to the open leg crab, I had managed to tie Margaret into several of the simpler bindings. Including the Agura, originally an interrogation position, in which she was bound cross legged with her head bent forwards and secured as close as possible to her knees, and the Japanese version of the hog tie with her legs frog tied ankle to thigh, and pulled towards her shoulders arching her back. Usually I incorporated a body harness that extended the breast binding down over the waist and hips, with crotch lines that passed between her inner lips, and knots positioned to press against her vulva, clitoris or anus as the fancy took me. Not this time though, as I wanted unimpeded access to her crotch and buttocks.

The visual aesthetics of seeing a mature, beautiful, full figured naked woman tied in an intricate rope tracery was highly arousing, more so, in my opinion, than the usual Japanese imagery of slim hipped, small-breasted young women, seemingly double jointed. Even more arousing to my developing inner sadist was seeing her exposed, vulnerable and helpless, bound and contorted into unusual and potentially painful positions, Japanese rope binding having its origins in medieval torture techniques. So Margaret was right, it was good for both of us that she'd had years of yoga practise. It meant I could contort her into unusual positions, and she had the flexibility to accommodate them.

But any position maintained for a sufficient length of time is painful, so we always agreed a time limit, and I closely monitored her limbs for signs of numbness and loss of circulation. Inevitably though, the stress on her joints eventually did cause Margaret discomfort, and she would wriggle and struggle against the bindings, unable to find a more comfortable position, emitting the occasional sigh or grunt.

Watching her struggle, though, was part of what turned me on, and always gave me a magnificent erection. Despite the discomfort and, or perhaps because of, the helplessness and the vulnerability while being totally exposed, she also enjoyed being bound. Especially when I teased her, working a vibrator over her clitoris and nipples, stroking her vulva, and penetrating her orifices with tongue, fingers and cock, bringing her to powerful and prolonged orgasms.

The open crab was known as a lover's position, due to the unimpeded access to the vulva. I was not yet skilled enough to attempt the raises and hoists that could elevate it to the pain levels favoured by sadism enthusiasts. Even so, it was enough to cause discomfort, and I was sitting in my chair admiring my handiwork, watching Margaret, legs invitingly spread, wriggling to get comfortable, the first beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead, when the doorbell rang.

'Who's that?' said Margaret, lifting her head to look at me.

'That'll be Sofietje,' I said, casually. 'I'll go and let her in.'

'She's not due until tomorrow.'

'Oh!' I said, trying to act surprised, 'I must have forgotten to tell you, she called to say she'd be a day early.' I headed for the door.

Followed by a very unladylike, 'You cunt!' Margaret's bedroom language having become much cruder since meeting Sofietje.

It was a fortnight after our afternoon threesome at Toowoon Bay. There had been no repetition; Sofietje had left the resort early the next morning heading for Cairns, where, she assured us, there were plenty of young backpackers of all sexes ready to satisfy her desires. But she had promised to stay zonguldak escort with us in Sydney for a night before catching her return flight to Amsterdam. To say that Margaret and I were looking forward to her visit would have been a vast understatement. Margaret seemed continually wet with anticipation, and we had made love with a frequency that might have exhausted a rabbit. When Sofietje had called me to extend the stay to a full weekend, it seemed a God sent opportunity to surprise her with a demonstration of my Japanese bondage technique, which was sure to set the mood for what I hoped would follow.

Sofietje was paying off the taxi as I opened the door and welcomed her. I carried her bags into the hall, pushed open the study door and held it, ushering her in, my grin a mile wide, waiting for the surprise as she saw what lay on my desk.

Sofietje gasped as she caught sight of Margaret bound and displayed. Her hands flew to her face, and she started to laugh.

'Bravo! Bravo!' she said, clapping in appreciation. 'That is wonderful, an open leg crab. It looks so deliciously uncomfortable.' She laughed again. 'You really are in a predicament, Margreet. The last time I was in that position I was suspended from a ceiling hook in a Tokyo nightclub, while a man pumped my arse full of warm milk. The dirty old fucker got four litres into me before I couldn't hold any more. Then he span me in a circle while I sprayed a white jet out of my kont gat, like a Catherine Wheel. Someone filmed it, so I guess I'm a fetish porn star in Japan, hah, hah, hah.'

She must have seen the bemused look on my face. 'What? Did you think I was a good girl? I told you in Toowoon Bay what I do on my holidays. Boring public servant most of the year, but on holidays I let my hair, and everything else, down.' Her animated face was lit by a devilish grin. 'Would it excite you to know how many things have been inside me since you?' She used her fingers to list them. 'At least a dozen cocks up my kut, including a vigorous gang bang with some horny back packers. Six or seven blow jobs and as many cocks up my arse, including one elderly Greek gentleman called Angelo who took me doggie style while his wife watched, smoking with one hand and frigging herself with the other. And that's just the men. I've taken strapons, dildos, vibrating eggs, balls, coke and beer bottles - women can be so nasty - and two Japanese students took turns fisting me, after which they let me put clamps on their nipples and labia, and fuck them with a dildo until they squirted.'

She paused for breath, her eyes challenging me to react, then laughed again. 'Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a little. I haven't been a virgin, but if it was worrying you, I made every one of them wear a condom.'

She hadn't asked me to wear one and I wondered at the difference, until she chuckled, and I realised again how easily women read men's minds. 'Married couples are different. Remember I asked if you were putting it about? Well I'd already asked Margaret the same question. I can tell when men are lying, so I knew you were safe, and I'm too old for you to put an appeltaart in my oven.'

'I've had a vasectomy,' I said wondering why the subject hadn't come up a fortnight ago.

'I know, Margreet told me. Anyway, enough about me,' she reached out to embrace me and we kissed. 'It's lovely to see you both again, I did have lots of fun in Cairns, but my old kut has been on fire, looking forward to this weekend. She leaned over the desk to kiss Margaret, brushing a hand between her spread legs as she did so. 'And to find you like this, what a treat.'

She reached into her handbag and pulled out a small digital camera. 'I sometimes publish photos on a fetish web forum, do you object? I can hide your face if necessary.'

'Fuck me,' said Margaret. 'I'm trussed up like some kinky tart, expecting my husband to give me the stiffing of my life, and now I'm going to be plastered all over the internet.' There was a broad grin on her face. 'Be my guest Sofietje, just don't make it too easy to identify me.'

'Ja, naturally,' said Sofietje, 'but not this one.' She was framing a shot from Margaret's left side that contained her face. Nodding in appreciation of the preview, she took the shot and showed me the result. 'You can see her wedding ring,' she said. 'I love taking a photograph of a woman wearing nothing but a symbol of patriarchal possession, especially when her husband's watching. So decadent, ja, here she is, your slet of a wife, for my viewing pleasure.' She laughed and patted Margaret's bottom, taking advantage of her position to run a teasing finger along one side of her cleft. 'Don't worry, that one's just for me.'

When satisfied she had captured Margaret from every possible angle, she rested the camera on the desk and unbuttoned her blouse to reveal her small, firm breasts, deeply tanned by the tropical sun. Then she kicked her sandals off and slid her jeans and panties down.

'Look, look,' she chuckled, bursa escort pirouetting like a model, 'nearly as brown as Margreet.'

Naked, she hoisted a knee onto the desktop and levered herself up, treating me to the wonderful sight of her meaty inner lips and large clitoris. I reached for the buttons of my shirt.

'Nee, nee,' she said holding up a hand. 'Keep your clothes on, sit down in your chair and watch the show. That's what you want, ja?'

I eased my erection and sat. It would be fun to watch, and I could join in whenever I wanted.

Kneeling on the desk, Sofietje was about to straddle Margaret's face when her nose crinkled. She bent her head and sniffed between her legs, then raised an arm and buried her nose in her armpit.

'Mijn God ik stink,' her deep booming laugh filled the study. 'Hey, Margreet, you want to have sex with a smelly old hoer?' She laughed again. 'Why am I asking, you have no choice.' She bent down and kissed Margaret on the lips. Then shuffled to the side of desk and slid onto her feet. 'Show me the bathroom, mijnheer,' she chuckled, 'and I'll come back smelling like a lady.'

Surprisingly, I had discovered I rather enjoyed the natural scent of a woman. Call me perverted, and some readers have, but I like to stand close to an attractive woman in public, or as close as propriety allows, and quietly sniff the air to catch any trace of their body odour, hoping for the seashore twang of an unwashed vulva. It embarrassed Margaret, but not enough to prevent her occasionally humouring me, by neglecting to apply deodorant and wash between her legs. Sofietje certainly smelled after her flight from Cairns, her odours still lingered. But I honestly couldn't say I found them offensive.

While she was gone, I amused myself tickling Margaret's feet. 'You're not sore at me,' I said, while she giggled and squirmed helplessly.

'You'll keep. Anyway what's to be sore about. I'm going to have two people take advantage of me. And that means twice the fun.' She sighed and wriggled against the bindings. 'You know, being tied up like this, the powerlessness, the vulnerability, the anticipation, it makes very wet.'

Sofietje returned to find me playing the amateur gynaecologist. She interrupted my probings, to Margaret's obvious disappointment, sat on the desk in front of me, and raised her armpits, smiling her elfin grin. 'Do I smell better now?' she asked, giggling. I leaned forward and sniffed both sides, noting a familiar fragrance. 'I found it in the bathroom cabinet,' she chuckled. 'Stings a bit down there, but it'll make me attractive to Rachel Peckham.'

I laughed; Rachel Peckham was a girl in New Zealand deodorant commercial. Sofietje had just sprayed herself with my Lynx Australia.

Sofietje laughed too, then lent back and spread her legs.

'You can have first taste, mijnheer,' she said. 'Get me wet for Margreet.'

She was already wet, and with her big, meaty inner lips gaping open, framing the vaginal entrance, her vulva reminded me of a large, split, red fig. I like figs, and bending down, I buried my tongue in her vagina, tasting her wetness, before slowly licking my way up her cleft, sucking on each of her lovely big lips. There was deep sigh as I finally approached her large clitoris, poking out of its hood like a miniature erect penis. I licked up and down its tiny length, flicked it from side to side, then grasped it firmly between my lips and sucked gently.

'Oooooohhhh, jaaaaaaaa,' moaned Sofietje. 'You're a lucky girl, Margreet.'

From whom there was a soft snort. 'That's right, take advantage of me being tied up, to enjoy my husband's tongue.'

Sofietje gently took hold of my hair and lifted my head. 'I think her needs are greater than mine she said,' crawling across the desk to Margaret. She knelt astride her face and lowered her crotch. 'Ever licked a woman, Margreet?' The answer was a muffled no. 'Don't worry, it comes naturally.' She turned her head to me. 'Use my camera, take as many pictures as you want.'

She lowered her head between Margaret's thighs and buried her tongue deep into the already gaping sex. Margaret squealed with delight, before plying her own tongue along Sofietje's cleft. The study filled with the sound of their eager lapping and sucking, quickly accompanied by gentle moans and squeals of pleasure. I clicked away with the camera, entranced by the sight of the two naked women, one with her bound legs tied wide open in a classical Japanese bondage position, pleasuring each other on the polished surface of my desk.

It was soon apparent that Sofietje was the more skilful, and Margaret's moans became louder and more frequent, and she strained to lift her hips against the tongue that was driving her towards a climax. Which Sofietje intended to deny her, as she raised her head, lifted her bottom out of Margaret's face, and knelt beside her.

'Fuck,' moaned Margaret. 'I wanted to cum.'

'That's why I stopped, malatya escort mijn lieve,' said Sofietje, smiling her devilish smile. 'How are you coping with the binding Margreet? Do your joints ache?'

'Yes,' said Margaret, 'and my calves and thighs are burning.'

'That's good,' said Sofietje, gently kneading and massaging Margaret's hips and knees. She checked the ankle and leg bindings. 'No numbness or swelling. He tied you well. You can endure some more?'

Margaret nodded. Since Sofietje's cunnilingus, she had stopped moaning, but was still squirming against the bonds, and there were beads of sweat trailing down between her breasts. I wondered what Sofietje had in mind.

'So, Margreet, here you are, totally at his mercy,' said Sofietje. 'The Japanese love watching a naked woman suffering in bondage. I'm sure they'd pay well to watch you suffer like this.'

'It's not just the Japanese,' replied Margaret, between grimaces. 'Seems my husband is developing sadistic tastes.'

'But you enjoy it too, ja?'

'It gets me hot and wet,' grinned Margaret. 'And the orgasms are worth it.'

'Even so,' said Sofietje with a knowing look. 'It's very generous of you to let him explore your submissive side?'

'She's not submissive,' I replied smiling, she gives as good as she gets.

She looks pretty submissive to me, tied up in that Japanese humiliation position. And I saw the cane marks on her bottom, from before.'

'I don't force her, she does this because she wants to.'

'Of course she does, but who gets the greater pleasure, you or her?'

That was a difficult question. Margaret admitted to enjoying being spanked, and she willingly allowed me to bind her. But was it really more about my pleasure than hers? I didn't know the answer, and I shook my head.

'I'm not giving you the third degree,' said Sofietje, smiling, 'but's in an interesting question, ja? Why some women enjoy things that others would run a kilometre from,' she shrugged. 'I've done things that would make my mother turn in her grave,' she chuckled, 'or maybe not. But I like a woman who's prepared to explore her sexuality.' She bent down and tugged at Margaret's bindings, watching her grimace at the added strain. 'I'd love to explore yours.' She turned back to me, 'Can I play with her, please?' she sounded like a girl asking to play with a friend's doll.

I glanced at Margaret, but if I was expecting any guidance, her neutral expression offered none.

'Ya, that's settled then,' said Sofietje. Good job I had my toy bag with me.

Sofietje picked up her large shoulder bag and dumped the contents onto the desk. There was a clatter, and I almost gasped in surprise at the assortment of bondage toys that spilled across the surface. A riding crop, leather wrist and ankle restraints, lengths of rope and chain, a ball gag, a narrow rectangular spanking paddle, a number of wicked looking bull nose clamps, large vibrators and dildos, one double ended, a pinwheel with sharp looking spikes and several packets of what look suspiciously like hypodermic needles. There must have been some raised eyebrows at airport security.

I had never considered letting someone else 'play' with Margaret, as Sofeitje had put it, when she was bound, but from the look of the implements it was clear that she had more experience of the world of pleasure and pain than I did. If I had any doubts, her next question dispelled them.

'What's your safe word?'

'We don't really use one,' I said. 'If she wants me to stop she says so. And if she needs a temporary break she just tells me to slow down.'

'Good,' said Sofietje. She picked up a large dildo and held it for Margaret to see. 'Stop or go?'

'Go,' said Margaret, grinning.

Sofietje held up the riding crop, 'Stop or go?'

Margaret thought for a moment before firmly replying, 'Go.'

'Okay then,' said Sofietje in a note of triumph. 'Let's see how much pleasure and pain she can take. Please fetch me something soft to kneel on.'

This was certainly not what I had expected. I had imagined Sofietje and me teasing Margaret with tongues and fingers, and a vibrator, but I had never thought of including pain in the play. Spanking, when she was free to walk away, was one thing, but while she was restrained and helpless, that was something else entirely. Still, Margaret had not said no to the riding crop, and part of me, the part that was currently flooded with blood and controlling my brain, was excited at the prospect.

I returned with some cushions and towels. 'Do you want to put something under Margaret?'

Sofietje frowned at me. 'You hear that Margreet, he wants to make you comfortable.' Her voice took on a domineering edge. 'But you've submitted, you're not meant to be comfortable.' She playfully slapped Margaret's face, harder than I thought necessary. 'And you're not comfortable are you Margreet? I can see you sweating and struggling against the bindings. It hurts.' She extended two fingers and pushed them roughly into Margaret's vagina. They disappeared easily. 'But I know you like it.' She pulled out the fingers, glistening with Margaret's juices, and waved them triumphantly. 'You're soaking, you horny slet. I bet you were wet before I even got here. Even when he was tying you up you were wet. Am I right?'