Cottage by the Sea

Eva Monroe
18 mins read
Published 6 months ago
Chapter 3

All Tied Up

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Lying on the bed, I stretch a little to shift my barely-clothed body, my wrists and ankles twisting against their restraints. I’m spread open like a starfish, each limb tied to one of the four bedposts. 

As our guests arrive, I can sometimes hear you telling them I have a migraine and am lying down. Before you left me in my compromised state, you made it quite clear that it’s up to you if I will earn the right to join the party later in the evening.

You’d instructed me to take off my shoes and socks, but pull my leggings up again. Then you ordered me to lie on the bed, and when I complied you slowly and carefully tied me to it. Once secure, you took hold of my tiny, flimsy t-shirt and ripped it open.

“There,” you smirked. “Tits fully on display, just the way you like it.”

I bit my lip, nodding in agreement.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, pet. When I come in to check on you, I expect you to be on your very best behavior. No trying to wriggle free. And I want you to think long and hard about a proper apology for being such a naughty, rule-breaking little slut. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” I consent.

“That’s a good pet.”

Then you kissed me, long and deep, making my already soaking pussy throb for you. I moaned into your mouth, and you pulled away, grinning at me as you left the room.

I’m remembering that kiss the first time you come in to check on me.

“Mmm, look at your little flushed, red cheeks,” you tease. Someone must be getting worked up from her punishment.” 

Before I can answer, you put your hand between my legs, feeling the wetness that soaked through my leggings. I squirm and whimper under your touch. You tsk at me and shake your head.

“You have to be quiet while I check on you, pet. Otherwise our guests will hear you.”

I nod, trying to swallow the moans that threaten to escape.

“Y-yes, sir… I can be quiet.”

“See what happens when you don’t wear panties?” You admonish me, massaging my pussy through the damp fabric.

“Yes… I, um… make a mess, sir.”

“That’s right. A sloppy mess of your pants, and your tits out for everyone to see…” Your hand slides up to my naked breasts, pinching and twisting my nipples. The determined moans win out, breaking free as I arch my back. You promptly take your hands away.

With a sigh, you stand up and walk to the dresser drawer that houses all of our sex paraphernalia - blindfolds, feathers, paddles, a spreader bar, to name a few… and a small collection of my dirty panties. You’re known to make me hand them over when I’ve been particularly naughty or wanton. You pick up a black lace pair and return to the bed.

“Since you can’t be quiet, I’ll have to gag you. Open your mouth.”

With a small whimper I do as I’m told, and you stuff the dirty panties into my open orifice, muffling any future non-compliant noises.

My moaning and panting now appropriately muted, you work over my tits with abandon. Squeezing, grabbing, pinching, and slapping, I writhe under your torment. One hand slipping between my legs again, you laugh and raise your eyebrows at me.

“Didn’t think it was possible, but your naughty pussy is even wetter,” you marvel at the discovery. “You really do love showing off your tits, don’t you?”

I nod, my mouth full of panties.

“Tell me,” you command.

Doing my best to obey, I manage a smothered “eth thur,” prompting another chuckle from you.

“Good girl,” you praise, and before you go, you take hold of both my nipples and pinch, lifting my tits up to jiggle them around. To top it off, you take each of my tits in your mouth, first one then the other, sucking and biting hard, until two bruises start to flower on my skin.

I wriggle and writhe and muffle-moan, aching for you to fuck me. A treat that I of course am far, far from earning. 

Relinquishing your torment, you smile down at me, satisfied with your work.

“The next time I come back, I want to hear all about how sorry you are for misbehaving.”

I nod in agreement as you close the door with a wink, leaving me tied up, gagged, and panting for more.

Time seems to move at the pace of a turtle walking through molasses. Now and then I need to shift slightly to stay comfortable, and with every squirm, I feel the moisture between my legs… The very air against my enduringly pert nipples… With my mouth forced open by the wadded up panties in my mouth, a few slivers of drool have spilled down my chin and the sides of my face… 

This is the abject, salacious state you find me in when you return.

“Tsk… Looks like someone’s making a mess everywhere,” you chide, wiping the saliva from my skin. I instinctively nuzzle my face into your touch.

“Mmm, that’s a good pet. Do you feel ready to apologize?” you ask, and I respond with a vigorous nod.

As you pull the panties from my mouth, a fresh batch of spit slides past my lips. With a chuckle, you leave it there while you put the panties back in the drawer. When you return and sit next to me on the bed, you use my own torn t-shirt to clean me up.

“Well?” You prompt.

“I’m very sorry, Sir. For parading around in public with my body barely covered, without your permission… and I’m sorry for not wearing a bra or panties, without your permission… and I’m sorry for trying to hide that I wasn’t wearing panties…”

I trail off, hearing out loud how long my list of infractions is. Clearly I’ve earned every bit of this punishment.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You remind me.

Oh god, there’s more… 

“I-I’m sorry for um, delighting Cassie with details of how I get spanked when I’m naughty.”

“That’s quite a few transgressions, naughty pet.”

“Yes, sir… I know,” I look away, bashful about all of my bad behavior.

“The slip with Cassie I understand. You were out having fun, sharing sexy things with your friend… But shopping today. Breaking rules about flaunting your body without my permission, when you were only just reprimanded for it yesterday… Tell me how that happened.”

Chewing my lip, I did my best to remember the events of the afternoon, and how I’d ended up dressed in such an indecent outfit.

“The no panties, that really was a mistake, sir. Honestly. I was in such a dreamy orgasm haze that I put on my leggings and forgot…”

“And the tiny, white t-shirt with no bra?” you prod.

The moment I remember, I know I have to confess. And I know I’ll be in even more trouble when I do.

“Th-that was a mistake, too… a-at first…” I stammer. Your eyebrows raise in unison.

“At first?”

“...I um, put my shoes on… and then I walked past the full-length mirror on my way out. And I um… I thought I looked hot. So I… I, um… I left.”

After a smirk and a short “Hm,” you study me for an agonizing stretch of time.

“So, just to be clear… You saw your slutty outfit in the mirror, realized you’d forgotten a bra and everyone would be able to see your tits, and you went out anyway.”

“Y-yes, sir…”

“Without my permission.”

“I… You were already gone, si-”

“Are you making excuses?” you ask, your voice stern. “Could you have asked for permission via text?” 

“I… Yes. Yes, sir.”

“Sent me a photo for approval?”

You’re right, of course. Such an easy solution. And I’d let my drunk-on-orgasms brain take over, when I knew better.

“I’m really sorry, sir. I knew better, and I flagrantly disregarded the rules.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you did.” Your heaviest sigh yet propels you off the bed. “I think punishment for such a serious offense ought to be immediate and severe, don’t you?”

With a nervous swallow, I can’t help but agree.

“Yes… of course, sir.”

You take inventory of my splayed body with your eyes, in that way that always makes me feel like you have me under a microscope.

“We’ll have to get those leggings off you…” you murmur, almost to yourself. “I’ll be back, my disobedient pet.”

I can barely stutter out a ‘yes, sir’ before you’re gone, the door clicking gently shut behind you. My mind races with what reckoning is in store for me. None of my speculation prepares me for your return.

“Can’t find any scissors in the house, pet, so I had to bring backup.”

A thrill of… so many things - lust, embarrassment, tingles, throbs… it all surges through me at once, when I see Taylor walk in behind you. And moreover, when Taylor sees me in my vulnerable, worked-up state.

“Holy shit…” Taylor’s voice is low and awed as she stares, drinking in every inch of me.

A self-professed ‘butch dyke,’ Taylor has been our vacation neighbor for the past four years. Last summer, at Taylor’s end-of-season poolside cookout, I’d had two glasses of rose and not enough to eat. I have a hazy memory of plopping into Taylor’s lap… and one of my tits flopping out of my bikini top. I didn’t cover myself, only laughed, and said “oopsie” before I kept flirting. You’d scooped me up and led me across the street to our place, where you fed me food and coffee until I sobered up. Then you’d stripped me naked, bent me over your knee, and administered 30 spankings while I counted them aloud.

The next day we were all leaving. But first, you’d had me apologize to Taylor for behaving so lewdly without her consent. She’d been very gracious, and said she rather enjoyed it. This led to you asking if Taylor wanted to see the results of my punishment… After lifting my skirt to show her my red ass cheeks, Taylor offered broad consent to help punish me in the future, should I behave badly again.

And now, here we all were.

You don’t trust ‘broad’ consent (“preferences change,” you observe), so I was sure you’d prepped Taylor for what awaited her. Especially because you love talking about sex and salacious acts in prurient detail.

“Taylor has a leatherman,” you explain to me. “To cut off your slutty leggings.”

“What’s she gone and done now?” Taylor asks you. “It looks serious.”

“I think you should tell Taylor yourself, don’t you, pet?”

“Y-yes, sir…” I agree, and notice Taylor’s hint of a smirk when I call you sir.  I dutifully recount all of my sins (starting with yesterday), and then detail all of the reprimands I’ve received so far.

“What about these?” Taylor asks, motioning to the bruises on my tits.

“When she gets really riled she’s basically rabid, and she marks me up,” you respond, “so I need to bite her until I bruise her back. It’s hard because her tits are indestructible.”

This prompts a look of disbelief from Taylor.

“Indestructible tits?”

“See for yourself,” you offer. “Do whatever you want to them while I cut off her leggings. I bet you won’t even leave a shadow of a mark.”

I whimper with bashful longing as Taylor reaches for my naked tits. You stop her before she makes contact.

“Wait, we’ll have to gag her. Tell Taylor why, my slutty little pet.”

“Because I, um… because I can’t be q-quiet when my tits are… tormented,” I manage, my cheeks flushing with heat at my confession.

You both look down at me with matching smirks, Taylor clearly enjoying the sight of you filling my mouth with fabric.

“What kind of gag is that?” she inquires.

“A pair of her dirty panties,” you grin, and the two of you share a laugh. I am both mortified and desperate, aching to come.

“Before I cut off her leggings, you should feel this,” you tell Taylor, and invite her to explore the sopping wetness between my legs. 

“Fuuuuuck…” Taylor lets out a low whistle. “You really enjoy your punishments, don’t you-” Taylor turns and addresses you. “What kind of pet is she?”

“A kitten.”

Back to me, Taylor smirks, stroking my pussy through my damp leggings.

“Do you like your punishments, naughty kitten?” she asks, and I nod, my mouth full of dirty, balled up panties.

“Time for these to come off, my wicked, vulgar pet,” you chide. “I need you to hold still, no matter how much Taylor plays with your tits. Is that understood?”

I nod, and you prompt me to answer you with a stifled ‘ef fir,’ before you both set to work. The cool metal of the leatherman brushes my skin when you start to cut. It isn’t hard to be still until Taylor starts manhandling me… She squeezes and pinches my tits mercilessly, trying to bruise them, taking you up on your dare. When she tweaks my nipples it becomes almost impossible to not squirm, but you aren’t done cutting.

“Can I slap them?” Taylor inquires of you.

“Ask our little slut,” you answer. “She’ll tell you.”

“Can I slap your tits, slut?”

Taylor calling me a slut makes me moan, and I nod with wide, eager eyes.

Her hand smacking against my naked flesh is so loud, I wonder if the rest of our party guests can hear. The music and conversation is pretty boisterous, but anyone close to the door… 

The collective sensation of having my tits slapped while freshly cut fabric falls away from my skin drives me wild. At long last you reach the end of your cuts, and when the last of my destroyed leggings fall away, my wet, throbbing pussy is fully spread and on display, and I can hardly stand it any longer. 

Taking a few seconds to savor my torment, you finally release me.

“Go ahead and squirm, pet.”

And I do. I writhe and buck under Taylor’s assault on my tits, moaning through the lace of my panties, the entirety of my naked, exposed body throbbing, aching to come… Desperate to be fucked. So desperate, I’d probably agree to the two of you fucking me out in the middle of the living room while everyone watched… 

But I know that isn’t in the cards, as you don’t acquire consent for new play when I’m in such a frenzied state. You don’t want me agreeing to things I wouldn’t do otherwise.

Instead, Taylor steps back and marvels at the truth of your words.

“Damn, she says. They’re barely even red.”

“I told you. Indestructible tits.”

Removing the gag from my mouth, you and Taylor watch as I drool all over myself.

“What do you say to Taylor for helping with your punishment, slut?”

“Th-thank you, Taylor.”

“For?” You prompt.

“For helping sir with my punishment.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Taylor answers. “Sounds like you deserved it.”

“Y-yes…” I stammer, but of course that isn’t sufficient.

“Yes…?” You ask, and I know what’s expected of me.

“Yes, I deserved it… I was a very n-naughty, disobedient slut, and I deserve all of my punishments.”

“Are you sorry for being a bad pet?” you ask, and there’s Taylor’s smirk again.

“Y-yes, sir. I’m very sorry for being bad…” I trail off, but you’re still looking at me, waiting for more. “I’m… sorry, sir, for behaving like such a naughty little slut. I know b-better.”

“You do, it’s true,” you agree, and you signal to Taylor to squeeze my left tit, while you set to work on my right. The two of you fondle me, watching me squirm and moan while you make me apologize.

“Tell me again why you’re sorry,” you command, and I whimper as I obey.

“I’m s-sorry for being such a naughty, di-disobedient slut, sir…”

“You can’t really help it, can you?” you ask, and I concur with a shake of my head.

“N-no, sir, I can’t help it… I’m sorry, sir…”

“And why is that?”

“B-because I like it too much, sir… I like being a dirty little slut…”

“Jiggle them,” you advise Taylor, “she loves to feel her tits bouncing up and down.”

You each jiggle one of my tits, shaking and jouncing them while I arch my back. A louder moan escapes my lips, and you silence me with a look.

“Be quiet, slut, or you’ll get panties shoved in your mouth again.”

“Yes, sir… I’m s-sorry, sir…”

After making me apologize several times for my slutty behavior while you and Taylor work over my tits, you cue Taylor to step back and release me.

“Time to say goodbye to Taylor,” you instruct, and I know you don’t mean a traditional farewell.

“Thank you for tormenting my tits, Tayor. I really loved it.”

“Anytime,” Taylor grins. “Will I see you out in the other room?”

I look to you and you raise an eyebrow at me.

“Only if I’m very, very good, and show sir how sorry I am,” I answer.

“That sounds fair,” Taylor answers.

I nod and agree.

“Sir is very generous and fair.”

“You’re a lucky little pet,” Taylor says with a wink. Taking her leatherman back, she shares a sweet bro interaction with you, most of which I can’t hear. Something about ‘thank you’ and ‘are you kidding me…’

With the click of the door, you and I are alone again. Gently, you start to undo my restraints, tenderly rubbing my freed wrists and ankles.

“Would you like to join the party, pet?”

“Oh, yes, sir. Very much.”

Taking me by the hand, you guide me to sit up on the bed and tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

“I’m very proud of you, pet. You’ve been doing a very good job of taking your punishments.”

I smile a little, feeling a flush of happiness.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Do you think you’ve earned the right to join the party?”

“I, um…” It isn’t a trick question, but I know you want me to really think about it, and give you an honest answer. Not just the answer I might want to give. “I should… probably be spanked before I’m allowed to, sir.”

“Mmm. And why is that?”

“B-because I have been so very naughty and slutty… m-my ass should sting… while I’m out there… to… remind me that I have a lesson to learn?”

 “Mmhm, that sounds right,” you concur. “I’d like you to beg. For your spankings.”

Looking up at you, I lick my lips and do as I’m told.

“Please, sir… Will you please spank me?”

“More,” you command.

“Please spank me, sir… I’ve been a very bad, slutty pet… I need to be spanked, please.”

“You need it, yes. I like that. Stand up, slut.”

I comply, and you take my place sitting on the bed, directing me to bend over your lap. The remnants of my torn t-shirt drape over my shoulders, doing nothing to cover any significant part of my naked body.

“How many infractions are you being punished for, pet?”

“Um… six, sir.”

“So you’ll be counting out 60 spankings. Can you keep your moaning quiet, or do I have to gag you again?”

Squirming on your lap, I vow to do my best to stay quiet. The instant the promise escapes my lips, your hand strikes my ass, hard. I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

“O-one…” I manage, and I hear you chuckle above me.

“You have 59 more to go, pet. Do you think you can make it?”

I nod, steeling myself for the next 15 spankings, which land in rapid succession, each smack followed by the delicious and humbling sensation of my ass cheeks quivering under your blows. Without thinking, I spread my feet wider and tilt my bottom up toward you, making you laugh again.

“Having fun, slut?”

“I… um…” I’m not sure how to answer at first, but there’s no use pretending. We both know I love being spanked. “Yes, sir,” I confess.

“Mm, of course you are. My dirty kitten just loves her spankings… Sounds like you’ll need something more severe to make this an actual punishment. How about the last 20 will be pussy spankings?”

I whimper outright, my already throbbing clit pulsing at the thought.

“Y…yes, sir… that does sound like… torture, sir.”

“You will not be allowed to come, slut. Is that understood?”

After more whimpers and a contrite agreement from me, you get back to work. I count out another 24 ruthless smacks to my ass cheeks, then you direct me onto all fours.

“Put your face on the ground,” you instruct. “I want that naughty little pussy spread wide for me… That’s right. Knees apart, ass in the air…”

I wriggle and twitch, my tits hanging low so my nipples graze the ground. For my last 20 spankings, you strike me high on my inner thighs, on my anus, and right on my sopping wet pussy, carefully avoiding my clit. Until the last three smacks, which land directly on the swollen, trembling organ. I have to shove my fist in my mouth so I don’t make too much noise, eeking out the last few numbers.

“...oh! Fuck… fifty-eight… *whimper* fifty-nine… oh, god… sixty.”

Standing in front of me now, you stroke my hair and guide me up onto my knees. Looking down at me, you gently caress my face.

“That was very good, pet. I’m very impressed that you didn’t come.”

“Thank you, sir.” I do my best to look as demure and repentant as I feel.

“So. You’d like to join the party?”

“Oh! Yes, sir, please, may I?”

“Say please some more. You know how I love to hear you beg.”

“Please, oh please… May I please join the party? Please, daddy?”

You smile when I call you daddy, a moniker I only use when I really, really want something, or when I want to demonstrate to you that I’m being very good and obedient.

Helping me up to stand in front of you, you assess my naked body and torn shirt.

“Well you certainly can’t go out there like this,” you tease.

After some discussion, it’s decided that I will only be allowed to join the party if I am willing to be dressed like a naughty slut in front of our guests.

“It’s only fair. I haven’t come either,” you remind me, “and administering all of these punishments is making me really want to fuck you. If I have to wait, I want you to show off the body I get to play with later.”

Biting my lip, I lower my gaze and accept the tiny items of clothing you lay out for me.

“Yes, sir. That sounds more than fair, sir,” I agree.

“I’m very fair,” you smile. 

Full of tenderness, you help me into a pair of black, lace, crotchless panties, a stretchy black cotton miniskirt… and a sheer white tank top. It has a loose-ish fit and a low scoop neckline. It’s very obvious that I’m not wearing a bra.

“D-do you want my tits to be this…” Words fail me as I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I look very much like someone who’s trying to get good and fucked.

“Visible?” you offer. “On display?”

I nod, wide-eyed.

“Isn’t that what you want?” you challenge, your tone laced with teasing and reproach. “To walk around in see-through shirts with no bra, showing off your tits for everyone?”

My hands and feet do their bashful dance, and my skin tingles underneath my crotchless panties. I might as well be walking around our party topless.

“Yes, sir…” I admit. “That sounds really… fun and… hot, sir.”

“Good. Now remind me - what’s your role, my naughty little pet?”

“To be a treat for you,” I recite. “To be your handy little object.”

“Very good,” you praise, and I flush with pride. “After the party, I intend to take full advantage of my handy little object.”

Standing behind me, you reach around and take hold of my tits.

“But I’m not going to make you come,” you whisper low, and I can’t help but whimper. “I’m going to watch while you make yourself come for me,” you smirk, massaging my tits. 

Squeezing and shaking them, you graze your fingertips over my nipples. They perk up like little soldiers, clearly visible through my barely-there tank top.

“Perfect,” you announce, studying your handiwork. “Let’s go say hello to our guests.”

Taking me by the hand, you lead me out to the living room. I can feel the fabric of my shirt rubbing against my hard nipples, and a jolt of anticipation shoots through me.