A reader asked me for the text of this story some time ago. I have just scanned it in as a test of a new OCR package, so I take the liberty of using this encore presentation of the art to also give you the text of the story, below.
I stood up stiffly because of my tight-cinched corselet, and because my arms were strapped wrist-to-elbow behind me under my long leather cape.
"Goodness, I hadn't thought Monday-night traffic would be so bad," I commented casually. "I hope the Spurwoods won't mind our being late."
"We're not that late," Jason assured me. He locked the car, picked up the suitcases, and told me to follow him. My hobble slowed me a bit, and it gave me more trouble when we went up the steps to our host's country mansion, but it wasn't long before Jason was ringing the bell.
"You both look wonderful," he exclaimed as we went inside. "But take Marie's cape off, Jason - the wench is likely to suffocate in that outfit!"
I smiled and curtsied. "Thank you, kind Sir. My brute of a husband never thinks of my comfort the way you do." I turned so Jason could unzip me down the front and then stepped out of the garment. Naturally, I was nearly nude under it, with only a corselet and a pearl-studded bodystrap for my costume.
Brent's eyes widened in appreciation and I jiggled my breasts teasingly.
"Beautiful as ever," he said warmly.
"Jason keeps me in good shape," I answered, and we all laughed.
Then Jason looked around and asked, "Where's Yvonne? Don't tell me she's in durance vile tonight!"
"Oh, no," Brent chuckled, "--at least, not yet. She's back in the kitchen. Tell me what you want to drink and I'll have her fix it."
"A couple of vodka martinis should do it," Jason told him. "And don't let her forget a straw for Marie . . . I'm not about to free her arms just so she can hold a drink." Brent nodded in agreement and headed for the kitchen.
I wriggled my hips and said softly to Jason, "Darling, I wouldn't mind it at all if you were to unfasten my bodystrap so I can go powder my nose. I'd hate to think what might happen soon if you don't!" I turned around so he could unbuckle the rear end of my strap.
"Thanks, Boss," I said hurriedly, and headed for the bathroom. Jason called after me, "I'll be along in a minute to wipe you."
Wouldn't you know it? The top of the seat was down and I had to kneel and lift it up with my chin before I could relieve myself. Jason came in a little later and I parted my thighs so he could dry me properly. "Just a wipe," I warned him. "You'll be into my snatch soon enough as it is!"
But he gave me a few extra gooses anyway, and nibbled briefly at my breasts because they were so convenient. So I didn't really mind when he rebuckled my bodystrap a notch tighter than before. We went back to the living room with me gyrating my hips freely and found Yvonne Spurwood there with Brent. It was Jason's turn to go wide-eyed.
Yvonne is a spectacularly endowed brunette to begin with, and when her husband dolls her up for an evening of bondage with old friends, she is simply fantastic.
"Hi, Marie," she said brightly. She tripped toward me and we kissed politely. Then Jason took his turn. Her arms were fitted with elbow-locks that held them bent rigidly at right angles, and I could see her fingers splay out as Jason kissed her thoroughly.
"MmmMMMPH!" she responded with a coquettish smile. "My, you both look nice. Have a nice trip, Marie?"
"Yes, thanks. You don't look so bad yourself, dear." I looked more carefully at her legs and breathed, "My God, that's the damnedest footwear I've ever seen!"
Yvonne nodded ruefully. "You can say that again. Brent just brought them home today and I'm not really used to them yet. He says they're called toe-pointers."
And that's just what they were. Each one consisted of a snug, heavy ankle cuff with a stirrup attached to it that went beneath the heel. From the front of the cuff a broad metal bar extended downward over the instep, shaped to hold the foot in strenuous pirouette. It ended an inch or so beyond Yvonne's toes in a flat rubber tip so she was actually standing on the tips rather than even on her toes.
They kept her lovely legs strained in the most shapely tension and made her balance terribly precarious. A short hobble added to her problems, jingling softly and continuously as she had to keep shuffling her feet back and forth to maintain her balance.
The rest of Yvonne's bondage was equally impressive. The corselet that snugged her waist in to such waspish dimensions was not of leather but unyielding steel, and riveted at the back of it was a devilishly designed "bodybar." This passed tightly down between her ripely rounded asscheeks and extended forward between her soft thighs, forking so that one end could curve up closely along the line where each thigh joined her flat, smooth tummy.
Not only did the forked bodybar keep her puss completely open and vulnerable, it was fashioned to keep her hips reared back in a provocative pose. "That's a fabulous pair of panties," I remarked enviously. "It must be quite a sensation to wear them."
Yvonne was quick to agree. "Is it ever!" She minced forward so I could get a closer look. "You can't imagine how many fittings it took before Brent was satisfied with it. The most interesting thing is that since it won't let me move my hips at all, I can't do anything to help myself when I'm excited."
She paused and smiled in reminiscence. "Brent will tickle me for a while - and then I can't do *anything* about it afterwards! If you think pure frustration is exciting in itself, this outfit is about as sexy as anything you can imagine!"
I'd been so interested in Yvonne's footwear and her "iron panties" that I didn't really take a good look at her full, high breasts until then. My mouth fell open in amazement. "Great Christ!" I exclaimed, "you've had your beautiful boobs *infibulated*!"
She laughed happily. "I was wondering when you'd notice, darling. We had it done a month ago and each one is healed perfectly by now. Stylish, no?"
Jason joined me in examining her thrusting bosoms. Each had been pierced horizontally right behind the nipple and a stainless steel ring permanently inserted. The rings were not too big to be ostentatious, but looked more like exotic jewelry. 'Their purpose, of course, was quite clear.
"Now," Yvonne told us with quiet pride, "Brent can fasten anything to my breasts that he wants to, and we don't ever have- to bother with nipple-cones. It's kind of nice to know that I can be totally dominated almost instantly - just in the time it takes for Brent to fasten a forked leash to my rings."
"Well," I said doubtfully, "I'm not sure I want Jason to have *quite* such an easy time of it! The brute might begin to take me too much for granted...."
Then I sucked in my breath as Jason came up behind me and reached around to cup my bare breasts in his strong hands. I always hate having to show how much that turns me on, but he had me squirming and moaning within seconds as he rolled and kneaded my sensitive bosoms with that special skill he has. By the time he started to stroke and squeeze my nipples, I was completely *his*.
"Oh, Jesus, darling," I whispered huskily,"you're driving me crazy! If you want to put rings through my .. . oohhh, aaahhh! ... my titties, you can do it! I only meant ... ooohh! . . ."
Then he stopped and I was left trembling and panting. Yvonne said with a sympathetic smile, "You know, I think that was how Brent got me to agree, too. Men are such *brutes*, aren't they?"
"Only when they *stop* being brutal!" I answered, still shivering from Jason's wonderful assault.
Jason laughed. "Maybe we'll look into infibulation later, darling. I can't imagine how Brent stood it for a whole month while Yvonne's breasts were healing!"
"He concentrated on my fanny," Yvonne said tartly. "He's a *clever* brute, you see!"
Brent interrupted. "I think it's about time for The Game, Jason," he said. "Shall we fix the gals up for it?"
"Good ol' Monday night game," Yvonne sighed, rolling her eyes. "Well, Marie, I guess we're in for it again." I nodded, wondering anxiously what would be in store for us this time.
"Hey, what about those drinks?" Jason asked suddenly.
"Damn, forgot all about 'em," Brent answered. He looked meaningfully at Yvonne and she quickly turned to mince toward the kitchen. "Straws for you and Marie," he reminded her.
She returned soon with a tray bearing four glasses. Brent and Jason took theirs and then Brent put the other two down on the rug and inserted straws. Nobody had to tell Yvonne and me that we would do our drinking on our knees!
Her ingenious bodybar and my tightened bodystrap made it a little tough to lean down to the glasses, but we managed it. "Hurry up," Jason told me, "we haven't got all night." I dutifully sucked away at my straw, knowing full well that one fast martini was quite enough to dissolve whatever inhibitions a slave-bride like me might have left. Well, it *was* Monday night....
"How do you want to set 'em up?" Jason asked. "This is your week to plan the position, isn't it?" Brent nodded. "Sure is. Here, I've sketched it out on this paper."
Jason examined the crude drawing and grinned. "That's one the girls will remember for a long time! You've got the equipment handy?"
So it wasn't long before Yvonne and I were being readied for The Game. At first, Jason had to make a couple of changes in my bondage - elbow-locks like Yvonne's, holding my arms bent stiffly at 90 degrees, and twin bodystraps so my pussy would be as wide-open as hers. This arm-bondage was much more limiting than it looked: it was almost more than I could manage to twist my body so that I could even touch my own crotch, not to mention my breasts!
"Okay," Jason said when he'd finished tightening my bodystraps. "Now we stand them face to face, eh? Got the gag ready?"
Yvonne grunted her dismay and I bit my lip nervously when Brent held up a strange new device, dripping with straps. He announced cheerfully, "Here it is, girls ... your new double-dildo gag!" Our protests came to an end right then.
Five inches of the thick, hard-rubber phallus slid into my mouth, jacking my jaws wide apart and stopping only when a wide flange pressed at my lips to halt its massive invasion. Straps attached to the flange were quickly buckled around my head to hold the thing deeply in place, leaving another five inches of the thing sticking out on the other side of the flange.
Then Yvonne was maneuvered in front of me and forced to take the other end of the gag into her mouth. We ended up with noses pressing gently together and having to stare deeply into each other's eyes. As soon as the straps were buckled about her head, we were inextricably bound together in this bizarre fashion.
A short chain was fastened between our belts so we couldn't back our hips away from each other, and our forearms were lashed beside each other so my right hand grasped her left elbow and vice versa. There we stood, wondering what would come next. I winked at her and turned my body to one side - and was rewarded with the luscious sensation of having my nipples rub sweetly across her turreted breasts.
Yvonne echoed my moan of excited surprise, and soon we were twisting and pressing against each other to see how much more pleasure we could find in our intimate bondage. I was delighted to find that we could move a fair amount in spite of our restraints, and she was obviously enjoying it just as much as I was.
"They seem to like it," Brent commented with satisfaction. "Isn't it wonderful how they can get so much out of so little?"
"Yes," Jason said thoughtfully. "But I wonder if they don't have a little too much freedom of movement now. Suppose we run a strap between them from one pair of forearms to the other and tighten it . . . *that* should eliminate a lot of this girlish wiggling and make them concentrate on more - er - spiritual things."
Brent was quick to agree. Ignoring our grunts of protest, they soon had a strap looped about our forearms that pulled them firmly against our sides and really did minimize our ability to move against each other. Now we would have to concentrate on the sensations produced by tinier changes in our position.
I could feel Yvonne's nipples stiffening and poking hotly against mine, and could even feel the way her breast-rings were helping mine grow thick with passion.
"All right," Brent said. "Now we want you two to kneel here beside the TV."
He and Jason helped us shuffle clumsily to the spot he had indicated. "Turn your bodies so each of you can put your left knee in between the other's legs, and then lower yourselves to a kneeling position." Yvonne's eyebrows arched in doubt. I shared her concern: how the hell could we do *that*, particularly with our ankles hobbled?
We couldn't avoid trying, though, and it turned out to be barely possible. It required precise coordination and balance, which we couldn't always achieve, so more than once our husbands' hands had to save us from falling over sidewise. But finally we were down on our knees. And it didn't take long to discover how pleasant it was to be kneeling astride a firm, warm thigh, or that we could pleasure each other by moving our thighs.
Turning away from us, Jason said, "I'll get the beer while you get the picture tuned." As he headed for the kitchen, Brent squatted down beside us, in front of the TV set. Yvonne and I paid no attention.
Before long, we were swaying and grinding our bodies happily against each other as eagerly as our stern bondage would allow, our eyes reflecting the growing pleasures of our mutual stimulation. However, this would not be a frantic, careless rush to the goal-line of orgasm, but rather the gentle, steady maintenance of delicious physical arousal.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard the television click on.
My eyes told Yvonne the contentment I was experiencing. Her tiny moans of pleasure told me of hers. Moving slowly and savoring each subtle pressure of flesh against warm womanflesh, we happily resigned ourselves to being ignored by our husbands for the next three hours.
Jason came back with the beer. He and Brent settled into soft chairs and leaned forward to watch the screen. Yvonne and I didn't care. This would be *our* Monday night game. If our menfolk thought they could have more fun with Howard, Frank, and Dandy Dan, they were welcome!
Later, we knew, they would come back to us . . . just when we were ready for the *real* game to begin....
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