Ken James Fiction

 

Tied-Up Neighbors Sample 2 - Basement

I went down the back stairs to the basement door. It was unlocked. I stood at the threshold, looking inside. I was horny as hell, but also scared. If I stepped through that door, I'd be a burglar and Mr. Gill could legally shoot me dead.

My hard-on won and I stepped into the laundry room. I slipped past the steps leading upstairs and turned a corner into the short hall leading to the rec room. When I'd been in the basement before, the door beside the bathroom had been locked. This time, it was open.

"Mrs. Gill! What's going on?" She was strapped face-down to a padded black steel bench, naked with her beautifully-sculpted butt sticking out, held in place by pairs of straps around her wrists, ankles, and torso. She was slender, with a pretty face, long straight brown hair, medium-sized tits, and a tight little ass.

She lifted her head from the black leather cushion and looked at me with wide eyes. "Paul. What are you doing here?"

"You sent me a text."

"No I didn't. It must have been Jim. He said I was a bad girl. Fastened me to this bench and spanked my ass . . ." Her buttocks had a rosy tint. ". . . then left me here. Said he'd be back in a while to really punish me."

"You think he knows about us?"

"Why else would he do this?"

I reached for one of the straps around her torso. "I'll get you out of this."

"No!" she said. "You can't. Jim may be guessing. If you let me go, he'll know for sure. Just leave. Before he comes back."

I looked at the bench. It was heavy black steel and leather with thick nylon straps holding her in place. Not something you'd find in an ordinary basement. "This is another game, isn't it?"

"No!" Mrs. Gill shook her head violently. "Well, yeah. Sort of. Tying me to this bench is a game. The text isn't. I don't know what he's planning." She froze. "Did you hear something?"

"No. What was it?"

"Maybe nothing. My imagination." She looked frightened. "But you have to go. Now."

This had to be another game. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Mrs. Gill." I unfastened my baggy shorts and let them fall around my ankles, then kicked them away. My stiff cock sprang up. "I've got this big hard-on and I need to do something about it."

"Don't do this, Paul," she begged. "Go now. Before Jim comes back."

"You're getting fucked." I moved behind her. "Just relax and enjoy it."

"Jim isn't going to be gone long. He could come home any time."

"I'll hurry." I fondled her warm firm buttocks, then slid a finger up and down her slit. It was hot and wet. She moaned as I pushed my finger in deeper and twisted it around.

"Paul, please don't!" she begged. "Jim will be going out of town next week. I'll give you all afternoon. In a bed. All night even."

"Gotta fuck you, Mrs. Gill." I pushed my cock-head into her folds. "Now. I can't wait."

"No!" she moaned.

I was ready to drive my rigid pole up her hot wet pussy when I saw a little plastic squeeze bottle on the floor beside one of the bench's back legs. "What's this?" I picked it up. "Lube? What do you need this for?"

"Paul, please!" Mrs. Gill was a good actor. She really sounded desperate. "When Jim's gone . . . I'll do anything you want! You can fuck my cunt . . . ass . . ."

"Or I could fuck your sexy little asshole right now." I started to open the little bottle.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mr. Gill grabbed me from behind and spun me around. He was 220 pounds and 6' 2" of solid muscle, with black buzz-cut hair and a face like a friendly bulldog. Only, he didn't look friendly now. "What the fuck, you little turd?" he snarled.

I didn't try to answer. He went over to the bench and started unfastening the straps. "You all right, Yvette? He finished unfastening the straps. She cautiously climbed off the bench, then stood up and kissed him.

Mr. Gill turned back to me. "I should call the police . . . but I'm going to give you a choice."

"Choice?"

"I'll punish you. Here and now. Leave the cops and courts out of it."

Not a hard choice. "Yes sir."

"Yes sir, what?"

"Yes sir, I want you to punish me. Do whatever you want."

"Oh, I will." He unfastened his khaki pants. "On your knees.

"Sir?"

"You heard me." He pushed his pants and shorts down around his ankles. "Get on your knees. Now!"

I sank to my knees. That put me at eye level with Mr. Gill's cock. It was still soft, but growing longer and thicker. "What now, sir?

He grabbed his stiffening rod and aimed it at my face. "You suck this."

This is an excerpt from Tied-Up Neighbors, for sale on Amazon and eXcessica.

Copyright © 2017 by Ken James