Claire Sinclair in bondage

By: GlobeTwo

Chapter 3,

Finally the game was at an end and each player wordlessly revealed his hand.

House was last and he said in a loud voice as he gazed at his prize dangling from the chain, “Three queens. I believe that it’s winner take all.” His Southern accent had the oozing charm of the conquering general. He rose and looked magnificent in his victory and his progress to the girl was the triumph of the warrior and Claire was the prisoner for sacrifice.

Claire watched his approach and she was entranced the way a virgin on an altar is entranced by the high priest and his dagger. House paused long enough to accept a short length of chain from Olivia.

Claire’s muffled grunts and growls flowed out of the speakers; House just grinned confidently. He dropped to her feet and she tried kicking him but lost her balance and spun in the air helplessly. He easily took hold of the ankle wearing the red strap and he buckled one end of the short chain to the loop. As he rose he lifted her leg by hooking the ankle over his shoulder so that  she was soon doing a split parallel to the dangling chain. He reached above her head and clipped the free end of the short chain to the longer one supporting the rod behind her back so she was now suspended with one foot high above her head. She stomped her other foot in rage as House stepped away to admire his work; his size eighteen and a half shoes made a thundering noise on the amplified floor.

 

When Claire realized that he was unbuckling his trousers she suddenly froze. A moment later she discovered that the relationship between shoe size and cock size was real and she screamed into the gag, struggling with newfound ferocity, her muffled screams and the stomping foot shook the walls as she spun around like a raging Bacchante.

 

Olivia zoomed the camera in for lots of close ups in this struggle.  Fresh, sweet, innocent Claire was struggling in a very shiny latex dress that was hugging her every curve. That ball gag sat so beautifully in her mouth, her lips wrapped so perfectly around the ball. That crotch rope - that crotch rope was digging in deeply, almost cutting her in two! The more she struggled and pulled on her hands, the deeper the crotch rope dug in. How dastardly!

 

Playboy playmate of the Year Claire Sinclair slowly discovered the joy of bondage as her heart raced with anxious cravings. The dread and the ropes would feed her and fill her with pain and, in turn, pleasure. Elbows pulled tightly behind her with her wrist crossed, one leg chained above her head and a crotchrope pulled tightly between her legs. Miss October was such a great struggler, all she could think to do was to writhe and buck and struggle to keep herself upright on the chain. She spun around and around but went nowhere. She could barely move at all tied to the contraption.

 

As if to emphasize her helplessness House reached out and removed the shoe above her head by flicking it with his finger. Claire kicked out with her free foot but without any part of her touching the floor she began to spin even more wildly. She screamed curses into the gag as her hair flew over her face. House was careful to avoid her kicking leg but he managed to grab the ankle over her head. Held now in place the beautiful captive sputtered and snarled with even more vehemence; her bucking and writhing rattled the chain above her.

House chuckled and with his free hand tickled poor Claire's silk soles. She yelped and howled and pleaded into the gag and every tremor of struggle made the rope over her pussy tease her into a more frenzied erotic tail spin. By time he stopped she was out of breath and House was able to get close enough to loosen the rope on her crotch enough so that he could push it to one side. She gave little resistance as he mauled her breasts with his mouth and hands and ground his cock over the hyper-sensitive lips of her sex.

 

When the head of his cock kissed her bare pussy lips she started to scream but he held her bound body tight. With one leg up in the air she was completely vulnerable to his assault. He took his time, letting her wriggle and struggle and protest into the gag. With an arm tight around her waist her own bucking was pushing the cock into her; the massive knob thrust in, the cockhead alone seemed to fill her with impossibility. Her body froze and tensed and this tension increased the sweet pressure around his shaft. The tight heat of her honeyed slit poured glory over every nerve and vein of his monster cock as it entered her with an excruciatingly unhurried display of his power. Once he was all the way inside her he let loose though; he fucked hard and mercilessly, the chain hanging from the ceiling snapping and jangling like a metallic whip. She screamed for mercy in wordless shrieks. And she screamed out her own orgasm when he finally blasted his load deep into her in a fury of masculine energy.

 

House staggered back after completely emptying into her and he collapsed on to the couch and stared at the beautiful captive as if he were in a trance.

 

The other four applauded and hooted his performance and Claire too collapsed onto the bar under her shoulders. She was a helpless doe watching the men as they talked about the next phase of their playtime.

 

She mewed meekly when House rose and unchained the leg in the air; like a grim prince in a fairy tale he slipped her shoe back onto her bare foot and she didn’t struggle at all as he tied a rope above her knees and another around her ankles. She murmured into the gag when the bar was released from the ceiling chain and she sobbed when he slid the bar from under her arms. When he laid her bound body onto the fur she started to struggle a bit and this slowed the card game as the men paused to admire her jiggling breasts and frantic writhing.

 

Claire, still in a transcendently erotic state, lost herself in the coils of rope binding her. Her body rocked gently over the fur as the tension of her bonds lifted her into higher arousal; she passed from the outermost portal of pain to the shrine where a sin is a prayer. She looked deliciously sinful. The tiny and tight latex outfit covered very little of her skin. Except for the four straps hanging down and clamped to the sheer black silk stockings she was naked from just below her navel. The glossy and glassy jet black latex made her smooth pale flesh glow alluringly. The close-fitting costume tightened over her waist and stopped just above her cute little navel; the halter straps bit into the soft flesh around bare breasts and shoulders; with every palpitation of her body the white ropes binding her breasts and arms and legs seemed to tighten in the desire of furious embraces. Her chest heaved with her excitement and the creamy flesh quivered in a dream of lusciousness. Her shapely legs, even tightly bound together, shifted and caressed enough to send warmth over the bare skin of her thighs; where the silk stockings met the writhing caused soft glissades of shimmering sounds. Her shoulders rolled in a seductive dance and her hair flickered against the fur on the floor.

 

She rolled and writhed for a long time, lost in her reverie as she made delicate little moans and grunts into the gag. She was on her side now, her body undulating like a wave; then she was face down and as she wriggled against the bonds, the fur caressed over her naked breasts and bare pussy.  The flawless orbs of her ass glowed a pale rose against the black latex straps and silk stockings.

 

Even through this gloriously erotic display the men, while gazing on her beauty, managed to come to an agreement about her fate. While she gyrated and whimpered face down on the fur one of them approached her, the short one who reminded her of Napoleon;  he gently lifted her in his arms. Claire mewed sweetly as he sat on the antique red velvet couch and arranged his lovely prisoner on his lap. She snuggled against his shoulder as best she could with her arms bound behind her back; he was so short that sitting in his lap Claire had to bend her head to meet his eyes. His hand caressed over her breasts and shoulders and eventually lifted her hair and undid the gag.

 

Claire gulped for air like a fish on the deck of a boat and she gulped gratefully when he lifted a cup of water to her lips. Little rivulets dripped down her chin and over her naked breasts. When the cup was removed she sighed and pressed a cheek against his chest. “Thank you, kind sir,” she looked at him with large worshipful eyes. “Are you going to have your way with me?” she asked with hope vibrating in her husky voice.

 

He stroked her hair and squeezed his arm around her waist. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? You’re a naughty girl.”

 

“I want to please you,” she said. Her gaze held his.

 

“I’m going to hurt you Claire,” he said flatly. “You’re going on a wild trip.”

 

Claire closed her eyes for a moment and contemplated the agony in store. For a girl trapped like she was it was always the same. First comes the chill of fear– then a stupor as the mind calculates the fate of the body– then the letting go – a brilliance takes over.

 

She nodded. “I know.” Her soft ruby red lips parted. Without conscious thought she leaned down to meet him as he bent his head up. He brushed his lips across hers, his hands skimming up her sides, brushing the sides of her breasts as he moved them up to cup her face. His lips brushed hers again and then he caught her bottom lip with his teeth. A soft nip soothed by the rub of his tongue. His thumb pressed gently at her chin, urging her to open for him. Gladly, willingly, she did. His tongue eased in and stroked along hers, coaxing her to follow him back into his mouth. He closed his lips around her tongue and sucked gently on it. She pulled it out slowly, tugging against the suction he plied, breaking the kiss. Their eyes were open, each watching the other.

 

The kiss went on, warm and generous. Claire whimpered meekly into his mouth as he greedily caressed her naked breasts; his fingers paid special attention to where the latex pressed into her tender skin. His nails followed the bite of the ropes around her shoulders and under her breasts. She wriggled and writhed against the ropes binding her wrists and legs, feeling his arousal grow against her bare bottom.

 

She needed to breathe but she wouldn’t give up his mouth. When he finally pulled her hair, cruelly bending her head back, she gasped for air. He gave her an intense look and Claire, in his eyes, could read the violent erotic pleasures coming to her. “You’re going to hurt me,” she said. It was a compliant statement of the inevitable. He smiled knowingly and she shuddered. “I want you to do things to me,” she said softly. She turned her head to one of the video cameras Olivia had set up. The other men were standing behind it watching her surrender. “All of you.” Her voice was intense with desire, lips full of lust and of laughter, her eyes full of unquenchable fire.

 

Keeping her in his lap Claire’s captor bent her body so her face was in her knees. She wriggled slightly as he untied her wrists and arms. She giggled as he pulled her upright but he immediately tied her wrists in front of her. House came close and pulled the rope until she was stretched over the antique red velvet couch with her arms, still encased in the black latex gloves, drawn above her head and with her legs across her captor’s hips. House tied the rope to the base of the couch and went back to the camera.

 

For a brief moment nobody moved. Claire was spread out for them, a delicious feast. The scanty latex costume emphasized her glorious nakedness. The juicy flesh from her navel to the edge of the thigh high silk stockings glowed with warmth. The halter straps seemed to embrace their captive as they tightened over the tender flesh of her unprotected breasts and shoulders. Her chest heaved with her excitement and the creamy flesh quivered in a dream of lusciousness. She was perfection with her naked breasts heaving with each of her rapid breaths and her nipples glowing bright with eagerness. She squirmed slowly looking from face to face as if pleading for mercy and finally looked up at the man on the couch with her. “Oh dear,” she moaned, confronting her fate.

 

Working with an efficient expertise he undid the ropes around her legs and ankles but quickly re-set them so she could spread her thighs slightly apart. Claire watched him work, her eyes bright with fascination.  She murmured slightly when he re-arranged the ropes around her waist and thigh; the line caressing over her pussy was gone and that sweet spot was now exposed.

 

With both hands he parted her legs until the lines were taut and the ropes bit into her ankles. Claire’s body stiffened as his fingers caressed her legs, running from her calves to her thighs.

 

Claire was ready for anything and everything. Her vivid imagination recalled image after image of her beloved Bettie Page in various poses of torture. Claire could have handled a lash across her thighs and belly as she writhed or the cruel bite of clamps on her nipples. She wriggled with arousal and anticipation, ready for anything except what came next. He suddenly jammed his right hand between her thighs so that his wrist pressed over the lips of her baby soft sex; he held his arm there so that Claire could not close her legs. With his left hand he casually flipped the shoes off her now kicking feet.

 

Because of her bindings she could not escape his hand and he proceeded to tickle her ruthlessly. Claire had no chance; he tortured her feet and her giggles and writhing and kicking sent spasms of ecstasy up her spine. She shrieked and laughed and pleaded for mercy but he had no mercy to give. As her back arced and snapped up and down her soft sex caressed over his arm and she was driving herself wild. Her bucking and thrashing intensified with each brush of his fingers over the bottom of her pretty feet and in a flood of ecstasy she knew she was having an orgasm even as she howled and giggled; she trembled and rattled now in bliss’s wrath and still he persisted with his tickling.

 

He stopped when she began to moan in a deep wildcat growl, her eyes blazing. He let his left hand caress over the silk stockings and against her thighs. Holding her legs in place he began to finger her sweetness with his right hand. Her giggling stopped, replaced by desperate panting and pleading as she twisted her head in agony.

 

“No, please, no, I can’t…stop, oh god, stop, please oh please…” Her sobs and prayers filled the room.

 

Her begging only made him go at it with more vigor; his fingers greedily probed and teased and his left hand was tightly gripping her thigh. Her free leg kicked as much as the ropes allowed and she started to helplessly thrust herself onto the finger fucking her. Her ecstasy spiraled like a hurricane and for a moment she was in the eye of the storm; completely consumed by bliss she looked at him with a misty gaze. “I’m coming,” she said dreamily. “What’s your name?”

 

“Charlie,” he answered and worked his finger deep inside her.

 

She bit her lip for a moment, letting the pain float over the delight. “You make me come, Charlie; I love the way you make me come.”

 

“I’m still going to hurt you,” he said flatly.

 

“I know, Charlie, I know.”

 

To make sure she understood he pinched a nipple brutally and fingered her soft sex as if he was an invading monster.

 

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