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Sitting in the Corner
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Sitting in the Corner
Darlene removed the blindfold from my eyes. I
found myself in the studio. She had removed all of
the furnishings from the room. The walls were blue,
with shades that indicated where the paintings had been
hanging. Paint was still spashed across the floor, but
the usual mess of papers and dust was gone, swept away
into a dust pail now sitting in some other room.
In the center of the room stood a... well, what could
one call it? A rack, I suppose, or perhaps a crucifix.
A simple, oddly shaped maple frame, with many leather
straps. I guessed that this was the project that she had
been working on for the past week.
She bid me to approach it, and I did so, albeit somewhat
confused. Standing before it, I crooked an eyebrow at
her. She had, with some foresight, used an outdoor
stain on the wood; beads of water had formed on the machine,
water which had fallen from my still wet hair.
She had turned on the music, a soft, quiet tune which I did
not recognize. 'I built this for a friend. But I can't
sell it to him until I am certain that it will function
properly. This will be the test run. For both of us...'
The final comment surprised me. I wasn't really sure what
she meant by that one.
She began by placing my feet in the shoes built in. They
rather reminded me of the little machines clerks use to
measure foot size. The straps bucked into place easily,
and were lined with some type of fur. Rather comfortable,
all things considered.
I now stood with my feet spread wide, toes pointing about
ninety degrees from each other. She started to fasten my
knees into similar straps, and I began to get a better
understanding of the projects design. With anchor points
behind the knees, my mobility was restricted to a strictly
vertical line. I could no longer stand at full height, but
was forced into a mild crouch. The most comfortable
position rather resembled sitting without a chair. A deep
crouch was possible, but not comfortable.
She locked my hands into another set of straps, just above
my shoulder level. Then reaching into a bag she had dropped
by the floor, she pulled out a harness on a long chain.
The harness fit comfortably about my chest. She looked at
me with a critical eye, and adjusted the length of the chain.
When anchored to the frame beneath me, I could no longer rise
nearly so high. The chain hooked in somewhere behind my
neck, and ran the length of the harness to the ground.
''What do you think?'' she asked. Everything seemed
comfortable and quite well engineered. I told her so. But
something was certainly up. She knew well enough that the
rack would fit any normally shaped person, why did she need
me? Most of her friends into flogging and such already had
what they needed for those games. And this was far too
intricate for such things.
She stood where I could see her, hands carefully concealing
something behind her back. The mischief in her eyes made me
wary. She slowly drew her hands out from behind her back.
My eyes spread apart very wide; in her hands was a giant dildo
on some sort of long rod. Lubricant glistened in the light.
I was certain that I was not going to be happy about the next bit.
''This is the final piece.'' She walked around behind me
and fastened it into place. It anchored somewhere near the chain
of the harness and rose upward, pressing against my anus. I
definitely wasnt going to be happy.
I tried to rise away from it, and discovered that she had not
the chain length at random. Although I could move a little bit,
I was halted without being able to escape the pillar beneith
me.
Then she started to tickle me. It was excruciating. Normally
I do enjoy being ticked, but here I had no place to squirm.
Each time I tried to jump away, the harness held me in check,
when I tried to duck, the dildo prodded at me from underneith.
Tears began to well up in my eyes.
Seeing this, she ceased, and began to kiss at me, trying to
calm me down. My breathing was heavy and irregular. In a
moment, she had reached into her bag, and got still more lube,
which she proceded to rub all over me. I noticed for the first
time that she still had tarps under the machine. I guess
she realized that the trial was going to get messy.
Her hands finished with my abs, and began to caress the insides
of my legs. I was startled by the contrast, for the muscles were
afire in effort to keep me up. Her hands crept up toward my
penis, which had long since reached a pinacle of excitement.
After a few moments, she slipped into the small space between
my body and the machine. She began to mount me, and amid the
excitement that I felt my body began to warn me that my legs
were almost through.
She was fucking me, supporting almost all of her own weight,
pressing down against me as I fought to keep the dildo from
skewering me. My eyes closed as I felt myself beginning to lose
control. She leaned into me, and whispered harshly into my
ear, ''I love you.'' I opened my eyes to her mischievous smile...
And felt her take both her feet off of the floor.
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