“I can do it. Let’s get started.”
They gathered a length of clothesline, some spring-loaded clothes pins, a ball of thin string, some duct tape, and a yardstick.
“At least this isn’t going to be an hour-long session,” DJ said, chuckling.
“Too bad for you. You’d love to torture me that way for an hour.”
“Torment is a better word than torture.”
“I think that depends on whether you’re the tormenter or the torturee, if that’s a word.”
“Give me ten minutes,” DJ said, “to find a picture on the internet that I can use as a guide.”
“Where should we do this?” she questioned.
I’m just the helper. You decide.”
“About anywhere, I guess.”
“In the dungeon would be perfect.”
“There’s a little storage room in the basement that’s empty.”
They decided the room would be perfect with its concrete block walls and floor joists showing. DJ found a picture that he showed to Bonnie. She groaned but agreed it would be okay. She realized that what she was seeing was only half of the story. How she would feel was the unknown.
They moved a small table into the room along with a blanket and a triangular backrest that Bonnie used when she lay on the floor to read.
“Before we start recording, let’s experiment first.”
“Is that you trying to take advantage of things.”
“Just trying to protect you.”
“Just teasing,” she said and was quickly naked.
“I need to touch you to do this.”
“DJ, just do what you need to do.”
He took hold of her nipple, stretched it toward him, spread one of the clothespins, and pressed it over the nipple as far as it would go.
“Ready?”
A lip-biting nod.
“Oh, that’s comfortably painful. What happens if you put it on just the nipple?”
He squeezed the clothespin and moved it, then released it.
“Holy crap, that hurts,” she said through gritted teeth but left it in place.
“Are you sure, Bon?”
“It’s geting better with every second that passes. Are you going to use the string like in the picture?” She removed the clothespin. “Let’s just start, and my reactions will be genuine.”
“Do you have any baby oil or massage oil? We might as well make you look spectacular.”
“I have some massage oil. I’ll get it.”
Bon was back in a minute and smiled at DJ. “I guess you’re going to take this chance to rub your hands all over my body.”
“You can do it yourself if you’d like.”
“It’s easier if you do it, so go ahead.”
DJ went to work, and soon Bonnie was glistening and chuckling at his erection.
I bet I do look spectacular,” she said with a laugh.
The blanket spread and the backrest in place, Bonnie climbed onto the table, and DJ propped the phone, put on the mask, and started recording.
He began tying her with the rope, the soles of her feet together, which held her knees far apart. Her wrists were tied to her ankles, and her womanhood was totally exposed. The clothespins were applied to her nipples to audible gasps.
“What’s next?” she asked, and DJ was amazed at the almost expectant look on her face.
He took the string and looped it around just off the end of the clothespin and tied it, then removed the clothespin. He did the same to the other nipple, then looped the strings over a little hook he’d found in one of the floor joists directly above the table.
“Is this a lunchbox from elementary school?”
“Yes.”
He tied the lunchbox to the two strings and let it hang, stretching her nipples and breasts.
“What’s next?”
“One more thing,” he said as he picked up the aluminum yardstick.
“Are you going to spank me, Daddy?”
Surprised, DJ responded, “Yes, just five whacks, and you count.” Cautiously, he whacked her butt.
“One.”
He wondered, and the second whack was a little harder.
“Two,” she said with a smile.
DJ was tempted to make each stroke a little harder, but something stopped him. It was Bon’s breathing, along with his own and the way she was looking at him. It was still only their second day together, and he was not anxious to return to Montana alone and with no prospects. He appeared to swing harder on the next three strokes but buffered them at the last second.
Three, four, and five were called, and DJ walked to the phone.
“That’s all, ladies,” he said and ended the video.
“Only five?” she asked, smiling at him.
“Well, I wasn’t trying to create a video that we could sell to the internet. And let me get your hands untied.
He did that fairly quickly and began working on her feet. “You can do the strings. They’re slip-knots, so they should come off fairly easily.”
“I think I’ll go take a shower. Do you think the oil made it look better?”
He looked her straight in the eye, not trusting himself to look any lower.
“Yeah, I think so. I know so. Now go take that shower.”
By the time Bonnie came out of the bedroom after the shower and dressing, DJ was in the living room waiting for her, where he’d just finished reviewing the video
“I put stuff away and put the towel and the backrest by the washing machine.”
“Thanks.” She held up the yellow envelope. “Number seven is in here waiting.”
“Are you game for doing more today?”
“Sure. I’d like to get two more done if I could. That would leave only two for tomorrow.”
“And you can get back to selling houses.”
“That would be good, wouldn’t it?” But there were other possibilities regarding what she might be getting back to once the challenge was completed, and they were rattling around in her head and would finally need to be dealt with.
“Let’s hear about number seven, then.”
“Before I do that, DJ, I don’t want to impose on you and steal too much of your time.”
DJ laughed. “I appreciate your concern, Bon, but I came here from Idaho for one thing and one thing only.”
His look told her everything she needed to know. He had come to be with her, and she knew that to think otherwise was silly. She found the coin envelope with the number seven, opened it, and unfolded the paper.
This is a simple task that is also good for you. Use streets or roads of your choosing and ride a bicycle topless for eight miles or thirty minutes.
“Do we need to rent a bicycle?” DJ asked with a laugh.
“There’s one hanging in the garage, and there’s a pump there too. I’m sure the tires are low. You take care of that while I get on my riding gear.”
Riding gear? DJ thought as he went to the garage. He found the bike and the pump. The pressure gauge was helpful, too.
“That beautiful butt of yours is sort of ruined by those bulky pads.”
“But after you paddled it, I need the padding.” She winked at DJ.
Just her mention of the paddling created pictures of a glistening and very naked and exposed Bonnie in his mind.
“We’ll take my car this time. I can lay the seat down, and the bike will fit perfectly. Plus, I know of a nearly deserted road where I can ride, and you can follow in the car, and it won’t bother anyone.”
Won’t bother anyone but me, big time, he thought as they loaded the bike into her car. She grabbed her helmet and jumped in the driver’s seat.
“This should be an easy ride,” she assured him, and probably herself, as well, and she headed out of the suburb and into the country, making several turns as she went.
DJ was listening to her talk and observing her profile, which had always fascinated him. Something about the shape of her nose and her mouth, maybe her lips. When he finally looked at the car window, he realized he had no idea where they were and how they’d gotten there.