My Own Device (Part 1)

We are all prisoners
of our own device
but my device
has room for you.

***

“Lazslo, what have you been up to?”

“Nothing much. A new hobby.”

“You’ve decided to take up woodshop? At your age?”

“Call it mid-life crisis, Anna.”

She laughed.

“You’ve been in mid-life crisis since age twenty-five, my dear.”

I bowed to the truth of her words. I’ve danced with fear of death and delusions of immortality since long before I met Anna, and she’d seen quite a few of those cycles.

“Ah, but this time, I’ve decided to concentrate on the now. Not looking forward or back, I asked myself, what do I want right now.”

“And you came up with a giant violin scroll?”

I looked at my construction, sitting in the middle of my cleaned (finally!) shop, frowning in concentration.

“Mmm, It was really the curled arm of an antique chair that inspired me, but yes, the violin works as well.”

“And this is what you want?”

“It’s part of it.”

“And are there other parts, then?”

“One other part.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, dear. Cryptic never became you.”

I laughed in agreement. I don’t do mysterious very well.

“You, of course,” I said.

Anna’s eyebrow arched. “You want me? Lazslo, that’s why I’m here. That’s why we do this. I want you too. You know that.”

Though I’d been planning this since soon after my last visit with Anna three months ago, I had to physically push through a wave of sheepishness and self consciousness I hadn’t felt – especially with her – in years. It took me a moment, but I succeeded.

“Oh, but Anna, not quite like this.”

I surprised myself with how steady my voice was, how gentle. I might have even succeeded in being ominous, because Anna’ face darkened around her smile, her expression narrowing from amusement to intrigue. I loved that subtle metamorphosis. We each had our harbingers.

“Show me,” she said, the faintest trace of huskiness in her voice.

My cock shifted in my jeans. I led her to my device.

“It’s really pretty simple in concept. You face it like this,” I stood her towards the arced ‘back’ of it, “see how your legs fit in these curves? Yes, you have to part them a little.”

I pushed her gently forward, so that her upper thighs fit in the wooden channels. Anna had to move her feet just about shoulder width apart on the floor to fit right, her loose skirt easily letting her. That skirt came down to just above her knees, showing me stockinged calves. As she put her weight against the wood, it gave a low creaking sound and rocked a bit.

“That sounds… sturdy,” she said, sarcastically.

I grinned, “I wanted it to make sounds.” I reached to a side of the device and pulled a lever, resulting in a deep, wooden thunking sound. Anna’s expression told me she felt it against her legs. The slight rocking of the shape stopped as it locked.

“Let me guess,” she said, turning her head to give me a crooked smile as she leaned forward over the contoured top of the thing. My eyes followed her body as she settled, the curves I’d sculpted into the wood from memory of body and hands had been as good as I could have hoped for. Anna’s belly, chest, shoulders fit like a cradle, and her hands reached forward for the two polished grips.

She knew what she was doing, moving slowly, languidly, seductively for me. And the curve of the thing raised her ass just so….

“What was that, darling?” She asked, a wicked smile in her voice.

I had groaned without realizing it.

“Oh, that is so beautiful,” I replied, gloating and glowing at the near realization of my concept. I’d have to show her the sketches later, but she put my drawings to shame. “Hold it right there. Just a couple more things.”

I pushed on a polished panel beside the handholds and pulled out the short coil of leather I’d stored there, unfurling a cuff that I attached to her wrist as she watched. I could see the slight shudder that went though her body as I closed the cuff because I was looking for it. Her other hand loosened on the grip, as if she was going to pull it away, before I gently caught it and placed it in another cuff from the other side. Anna’s breathing had quickened, as had mine. We’d played games like this before, though, I knew, not quite like this.

“What are you up to, Laz?” I heard that tiny quaver in her voice. That first hint of the Anna only I know, coming to visit. My lack of answer was another hint of the Lazslo only she knows.

I moved behind her and pulled two more broad leather straps from their hiding places, fitting them simultaneously around the hollows at the back of each of her knees. I watched her legs flex and test the bonds the second after it was too late, and knew she was pulling at the cuffs as well. I’d made them so that there was just a little bit of play, enough to give, I’d hoped, the smallest illusion, or temptation of freedom of motion. My eyes followed up her legs to her skirted hips and upraised rear, fingers starting to itch. Not yet. Anna let out a sound – a cross between a sigh and a whimper – that made me salivate.

One more strap, a thin leather belt that went around her waist above her hips. Just strong and snug enough to hold her against the wood.

“Oh, Lazslo,” How I loved the way her voice changed. “It’s holding me like a big hand. It feels… made for me.”

“It is.” I released the lever I’d first pulled, making another satisfying thunk. The released curl of wood groaned and rocked forward, pulling Anna off her feet. She gasped as her footing vanished, her hands jerking for support on the handgrips, before settling into the odd rolling sensation as the device found a new balance point.

I spent a moment letting the reality of the moment sink in. Anna – my own Anna now – perfectly situated on my own device. A deep breath, as Anna watched me watching her. Her sometimes haughty expression was now much more guarded as she waited for what I was going to do next.

“You have too many clothes on, Anna,” I said. We had both used that line on each other more than once over the years. Usually it resulted in a laugh, followed by hands – one or two pairs – moving to remedy the situation. This time Anna’s response was a quiet moan and a tug on the leather restraints. My device creaked under her.

{Continued in Part 2}

Categories: Bondage, Consensual, Erotica, Monocle, Multi-part StoryTags: , , , ,

Monocle

I am the little devil on your shoulder, stroking your neck with my tail, whispering obscenities into your ear, and looking down your blouse. One third of The Erotic Writer blog.

3 Comments

  1. That is absolutely wonderful Raz… creative, incredibly erotic, exciting – I want to know what else this ‘device’ will DO to her! and beautifully written… but I’ve come to expect nothing less from you. Thanks for freely sharing :-D

  2. vanillamom

    gawd…your word imagery is phenominal in this piece, Mon..i can see it, see it soo clearly…the gleam of the polished wood, her hands curled around the carved grips…

    please, Sir, write fast.

    nilla needs more….

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