Bucket list -2

Stepping back, I put my hands behind me, and cuffed myself to the pole, in the centre of the room. I'd picked a good spot. One of the unhung mirrors was against the wall, directly opposite me. The second was against the wall at my left side.

The video in my iPad was good stuff. Set in the near future, a woman was undergoing VR sex therapy. She was a little cagey at first, as the VR had projected her step-son (it was porn, after all) as her virtual partner.

She soon got into it. On all fours, sucking virtual cocks which in reality were fucking machines. And being fucked by the same.

Then her stepson turned up and replaced the VR character.

She was lost in the game. Even when she removed her VR headset, she never noticed the transition and he began fucking her up the butt. It wasn't a long video, so I had it on auto replay. Once I'd got myself good and horny, I figured I'd remove the cuffs and cage and bring myself to orgasm. Probably on Fiona's bed and maybe with one her butt plugs inserted, for good measure. This was turning into a great night.

The woman's stepson was just about to plough into her for the third time, when the message notification popped on the screen.

"Hi Adam. Date was a no-show. Be home soon. Pour me a glass of wine. Fiona."

Oh shit. Soon? How soon?

I'd better get tidied up. Must get these handcuffs off, return all Fiona's stuff and get dressed. I should make it.

I pressed the first safety release lever with my thumb. Nothing.

I tried again. Still nothing.

I tried the other cuff. It was the same. I pulled at them with clenched fists. They didn't give.

All my efforts had loosened the belt on the dressing gown. It slowly untied and fell at my sides. The dressing gown opened out.

There I was trapped, caged, gagged. Drooling over the ballgag. Dripping from my cage. Wearing Fiona's fishnets. I could see, in the mirror facing me, exactly how this was going to look. The stepson was going in for round five.

I heard the key in the door. Fiona entered the house and closed the door behind her, locking it.

"Adam, I'm back," she called.

"Adam?"

Still no response from me, obviously.

"Where could he be?" she mumbled.

I heard her go into the kitchen.

"Do you want a wine?" I heard her call, as I guessed she poured herself one.

After checking downstairs, Fiona made her way up the stairs.

"Adam, are you here?" she called again.

With no response, she checked the bathroom first, then her bedroom.

"How odd," she exclaimed.

Then the door to the room I was in opened. I was busted. How do I explain this one. I couldn't even talk. Will an 'interrupted burglar' story carry any weight? A prank by a friend who popped by? Yes. Yes. I'll try that.

"What the fuck?"

I'd never heard Fiona swear before.

I tried to mumble an explanation through my gag.

"What on earth is going on? And what are you wearing," Fiona practically demanded.

I mumbled again, releasing more drool.

Fiona put her wine glass down, on top of the drawers, and rested against them, using her hands firmly support.

I mumbled again, hoping I could get an explanation out.

"What are you wearing? Fiona demanded.

I mumbled again. She came over to me, then went behind me. She pulled the dressing gown down from my shoulders, so it hung behind me, held in place by my handcuffs. Fiona took the belt from the dressing gown and wrapped it around my ankles and the pole, securing me there.

"I just want to be sure there's no funny business, when I remove your gag," she explained.

After Fiona checked it was tied tight, she turned the sound down on my iPad, and then removed my gag.

"Oh, thank you. Thank you, Fiona," I gasped.

Fiona let me get my breath, but not for long.

"I'm waiting," she told me.

"It's like this. A friend of mine dropped round for a drink, and I rather stupidly showed him around. He found your handcuffs and one thing led to another, and he left me like this. I mean, you can't trust anyone." I concocted.

Fiona sat on the chair.

"I see. So what is this?" she asked.

Picking up the remote, she turned the TV screen on.

The screen showed Fiona's bedroom. After a few moments, I appeared in shot, ransacking her drawers. Inspecting all her 'hardware'. Thank God I resisted to impulse to sniff any of her underwear.

"Ah, I see," I said in resignation.

Fiona turned the screen back off. She walked behind me.

"Do my zip, please," Fiona asked.

She kneeled down behind me and offered the zip to my cuffed hands. As I held it, she slowly rose up, the zipper moving down her dress.

"Thank you," she said.

Fiona walked back to her chair. She turned it around, so the back faced me. Finishing off opening her zipper, she let her dress fall to the floor. Stepping out of it, she picked up her wine and sat astride the seat. Her forearms resting on the top of the chair back.

What a sight she was. It was definitely a full Bunny Herdette set. They are not cheap.

From the ground up, she was wearing black leather shoes, with a three inch heel. Black stockings, a suspender belt, balcony bra, a cutaway thong and a plain necklace.

Her full breasts straining the tight fitting bra to its limits.

Fiona rose from the chair, walked over to me, and stared right into my face.

"You've been a naughty boy," she stated.

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