penthouse

Chained, Part Three

Very shortly, Popcorn arrived and Penthouse left me in his room to fetch her. Hearing them walk through his common area and chatting casually, I only blushed deeper. When I heard the door open, I could barely look up and instead watched two sets of feet enter Penthouse’s bedroom.

“What do you think?” Penthouse asked, moving past me to stand behind me.

Popcorn’s shoes were just a foot from my hands. “Very nice.”

Penthouse moved over to the bed-frame and unhooked the chain, holding onto it. “What do you say?” he asked me, tugging gently on the leash, “look at her and say it.”

It took all the will I had to make myself look up at Popcorn. Not because I was ashamed or that I wasn’t into it, but instead because I was unbelievably turned on. As I opened my mouth to speak, she smiled warmly. “Thank you,” I stammered out.

I could hear the smirk in Penthouse’s voice as he held the chain out to her. “Want to hold her?”

“I think I would,” she replied, before looking down at me. “You all right with that?” I nodded and she took it, weighing the chain in her hand and smiling. She gazed up over me, at Penthouse, and added, “oh, I like this a lot.”

corwinprescott:

Corwin Prescott – Cam Damage – Roarie Yum

Chained, Part Two

Penthouse attached the other end of the chain to my collar. It was heavy, but not impossibly, so I had the choice to either hold it in my hands or get down on my knees to avoid it pulling too much on the collar.

I held onto the chains and Penthouse walked over, stroking my hair. “How do you feel?” he asked. “You all right?”

I nodded, smiling nervously. “Yeah. I really like this.”

“Could I invite Popcorn over?” Penthouse asked, referencing the girl from the other night. (Yes, I’m going to call her Popcorn. DEAL. I’m terrible with names.)

My gaze fell down to my feet and I doubted she would want to. After all, it was awkward if she had met me before, wasn’t it? She wouldn’t want to do this with a girl she’d only met once at a party. But, I nodded. Secretly, I wanted it. But I doubted it would come together. And, if I wasn’t comfortable, he made it clear that I could end it anytime I wanted.

He took out his phone and texted her. Moments later, he smirked at me. “Oh, she’s on her way over. Maybe you should get on your knees.”

Shocked, I sank down to my knees and placed my hands on the floor, letting the chain go. I bit my lower lip, so excited I was shaking.

Chained, Part One

Penthouse likes to make collars. He braids leather and they look cute, pretty, unintimidating. I like that. The last collar I wore had the word “bitch” on it and I sort of hated it.

He made mine red and purple, two of my favorite colors. It fit comfy and had a little d-ring to attach a leash, which made me blush like no other. By having me help him put the final clasp on, Penthouse really made me feel like it was mine. Which I liked. A lot.

After buckling the collar on me, he had me put on this little nightgown that I brought which is actually a size large shirt from Forever 21 that was five bucks. Call me ridiculous, but I thought the pattern was cute and I tried it on and figured I could pass it off as a nightgown. It covers my ass and, while it’s too loose to be a dress, it’s cute and precious and so little as a nightgown.

In the nightgown and with the collar on, I was already blushing so hard my cheeks burned. But, when he took out a length of chain and clipped one end to his bed-frame, I just about lost it.

Every night during my visit to Penthouse’s, he set me a bedtime.

Somehow, I always managed to maneuver my way out of it.

Penthouse asked me, before I came, if I would want to be leashed in front of a friend of his. He knew I liked it, he knew she liked the idea of it, and he conspired to make it happen. Blushing, but not thinking anyone would actually want to, I agreed.

On Friday night, we went to hang out with a few of his friends and he mentioned that she would be there. The whole time, I nervously looked around trying to figure out who this girl was.

At one point, this very pretty, petite girl in a little denim skirt mentioned that she liked popcorn because it was something she actually wasn’t allergic to.

Earlier that day, he had discouraged me from eating Nutella, because he mentioned the girl had a pretty bad nut allergy. Putting two and two together, I blushed about six shades of pink.

Penthouse lives with eight other guys.

This is totally fine, Penthouse has his own room.

Except, uh, until one of them starts blasting opera music while we’re trying to mess around.

True story: La Traviata and flogging don’t mix.

Word to your mother.

One of the mornings I was there, Penthouse had to go somewhere a few hours before one of my meetings. We had messed around in bed a bit and he took some rope and tied one of my ankles loosely to the bed-frame.

“Now, edge yourself and text Daddy all about it and you can let yourself out,” he said, kissing my forehead before grabbing his backpack.

I pouted as I heard the door click shut and reached down between my legs.

“I’m nervous,” I said to Penthouse as I pulled on my clothes and went to head out to a meeting.

He turned to face me, “how come?”

“Uh, because I’m about to go into an important meeting with the word ‘whore’ carved into my stomach.” I stared down at the shirt that covered it, willing it to stay opaque.

“Oh,” he smirked, “yeah. I guess that’d do it.”

I feel ya, Piglet.

keepingitinthefamily:

Daddy and piglet love it like this. cuz piglet can pretend to be asleep if she wants. she kinda kinks on that a little bit.

shessofuckedinthehead:

mmm. im going to hell

Continued from here.

From the cabinet, Penthouse took out a string of plastic clothespins, spaced out on a thin piece of rope. “Do you know what this is?” He asked, shaking it a bit to try to untangle it. I groaned behind the ballgag, starting to feel drool well up on the sides of my mouth.

At the beginning of keeping me gagged, he had slid a buzzer from a Taboo game into my hand and told me to squeeze it if anything was starting to cross a boundary, as a sort of surrogate for a safeword. He told me to test out the buzzer once more before sitting down between my legs and clipping one of the clothespins to my labia.

I squealed into my gag, whining softly as he tried to untangle the line of clothespins, or zipper, with one attached to me. Once he had the next untangled, he clipped it onto my other labia and I winced. “You ready to tell me?” He asked.

I looked over the clothespins still on the line and smirked, shaking my head. I was enjoying how much it hurt. The rest went up to my chest, pinching the skin of my breasts and then my nipples. I whimpered softly as he gave the line a tentative tug and, when he saw I wasn’t going to push the buzzer, he gave a much harder one, pulling all of the clothespins off of me quickly.

I squealed loudly and he grabbed the nipple clamps, sliding them tightly onto my nipples before duct taping over them. I raised an eyebrow as picked up the riding crop and started cropping my taped nipples. “If you don’t tell me,” he said through my squeals, “I’ll move down to your cunt.” He taped it shut and moved between cropping it and cropping my clamped nipples.

Finally, I gave in, tugging hard on my bonds and telling him in a gagged slur that I would show him where the wallet was. He untied me and, with my nipples still clamped, had me fetch it for him and bring it to him.

“Good girl,” he said when I dropped it into his lap. “Now, was that so hard?”

Ivy

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