Chapter One

 

I hadn't ever really thought about bondage when I was exploring sex. I guess I wasn't a very brave person. Not into experimentation, you might say. Sex, for me, what little of it I had experienced, was pretty vanilla. But that was okay, because it just didn't seem to be all that much to get excited about anyway.

We've had a gorgeous cottage by the river since before I was born. It was bought and fixed up by my grandparents who left it to my dad. I always loved it, but mostly because as a kid I didn't have to do any of the work to keep it up. It was Dad who had to do the maintenance and mom the cleaning of a place that was empty half the year and then much of the summer while they worked.

The first year they decided I was old enough to come up on my own in the summer was after my first year at university had ended. Unlike my parents (and thanks to my parents) I didn't have to work that summer. So, I persuaded them the cottage was perfectly safe even for me by myself, and that I wouldn't hold any wild parties there.

Not that I'm the kind for wild parties anyway. I'm kind of boring, to be honest. My idea of having fun at the cottage is mostly just reading comfortably on the deck overlooking the river, or maybe down on the dock in the shade of a nice beach umbrella.

Not very wicked of me, huh?

Anyway, my parents gave me a car for my high school graduation. It was a five-year-old Honda Civic. I'd have liked to have gotten something like a Jeep that would have made me feel like a cool, country-type girl, but let's be honest, I wasn't. Like, I hate bugs, for one thing. And fish? Ick! I don't want to touch them! I also don't like sweating, but the cottage has good A/C so I'm fine there. And when outside I'm usually in a bathing suit and able to jump in the river anyway.

The cottage itself is on a bit of a hill over the lake. That lets it have a lovely deck with a great view, and then also stairs leading down to the dock and boathouse, where we keep a fishing boat, a canoe, a kayak, and a pair of jet skis. Needless to say, I like those last the most, even if they are kind of noisy.

I was going to invite friends up later, but I wanted the experience of having the whole place to myself for the first time ever, so I packed the Civic up and headed up there one Monday morning after my parents (poor slobs!) left for work.

Once I left town, I continued on the highway for about an hour and a half before turning onto a narrow side road. I followed that for another half hour, then turned off onto a dirt road. This was always the tricky part. But the Honda handled it easily. There were about a dozen cottages along the river near there, and that's not many people to keep a road properly maintained. So, things were kind of bumpy and there were branches rubbing against the roof and sides of the car as I made my way slowly along.

I had to stop a couple of times and get the hatchet or hedge clipper out and then chop off some thin branches that had stuck out halfway across the road. That was the responsible thing to do and I'm a responsible person. If you got them when they're small it's a lot easier to remove them. Even for someone who weighs like a hundred and eighteen pounds.

Once, I even had to stop and drag a whole branch that had fallen back to the side. It wasn't terribly thick, but it was still kind of heavy for me. I had even debated just rolling over it with the car but like I said, I wasn't driving a Jeep.

I finally reached the section that ran parallel to the river. There were turnoffs here for individual cottages, and I continued along the dirt road, knowing ours by heart. I turned onto it, and the cottage appeared through the trees not more than fifty feet along. I stopped by the gate, unlocked the old padlock, swung the gate open, and drove inside, then closed and locked the gate behind me.

Just in case!

I was a bit wary as I approached the house. I'd never come up alone before, after all. And there were always problems with burglars trying to hit empty cottages, especially since they were all far enough apart and with enough trees and brush between them that you could easily break in without anyone noticing.

That was why there was a steel core door on the front, and it couldn't be opened except from the inside until you removed the bar from the inside. It was what my dad set up after one too many break-ins, and it worked great. You couldn't get on the deck unless you were an awfully good climber or brought a ladder. That too was deliberate. It projected out over the hill so even a ladder would be awkward, especially in winter.

That left only one way in, through what we variously called the 'basement' or the 'storage shed'. It wasn't really a basement or a shed. It was the underside of the cabin (that stuck out over the hill) that my dad had enclosed to use for storage. It too had a steel-core door with some awfully good locks. If you got inside you only got stuff like lawn furniture and umbrellas, tiki torches, lanterns, the lawn mower and garden tools, and stuff like that.

But there was a ladder in the corner that led up to the ceiling where there was a trap door. It too was really strong and had really good locks, and good luck kicking it open! Or even breaking it open with a sledgehammer or crowbar from a ladder! I, of course, had the keys, and once I was inside I climbed the ladder, unlocked the trap door, pushed it open, and climbed up into the cabin proper.

Words like 'cabin' and 'cottage' don't really do it justice. It's more of a chalet kind of thing, with huge glass windows overlooking the river on both the first and second floors. It's got an open floorplan, with a huge 'living room', if you want to call it that, which was built and expanded with the idea there'd be lots of visitors and entertaining.

There was a big stone fireplace on one side, floor-to-ceiling walls of glass on the second, and the kitchen on the third. The fourth side was the pool table and more seats, and then doors leading to things like closets, bathrooms, storage cupboards, and a couple of bedrooms that had steel shutters to block the windows and that we only used for guests.

I carried all my stuff upstairs, and despite the master bedroom being empty, set up in my usual room. It had the same glorious view, after all. There were other bedrooms facing the woods but those were for my little brothers, currently at summer camp.

I carried the rest of the stuff into the kitchen because we didn't keep much food there for obvious reasons. And nothing perishable, of course. I started up the fridge first, then unpacked, putting a few other things like bread and soup away in cupboards.

With that done I was finally ready to enjoy myself! The first thing I did was go out on the deck and take a big breath of fresh air! I walked over to the stairs but hesitated over whether to turn the crank that let the stairs down. I mean, I was still all alone there. But I decided I wasn't about to go around every time I wanted to go down to the river and swim so unlocked it and cranked the stairs down.

I was wearing cutoffs and a tank top as I made my way down to the dock and sighed happily at the sound of the water lapping at the side of the dock. The boathouse looked secure, but I didn't bother to go in there yet. Instead, I went back up to the cottage to change into a bathing suit.

My body has always been both my pride and my embarrassment. I was a slender, lithe, athletic girl, and kind of a tomboy until I hit puberty. Suddenly my body betrayed me and started to bulge in alarming and embarrassing ways that drew an awful lot of uncomfortable attention from not just boys but even men!

I had hung around with boys a lot prior to that. But after that, it got kind of difficult. Oh, they all wanted to be my friend, all right, but not for the same reasons they used to. Now I had to watch even my friendliest of male friends to keep them from trying to grope me! And it was weird being asked to go to movies and such when that had an entirely different meaning than it once had.

Well, I adapted - mostly. I got used to the looks. At first, I tried to hide my body under shapeless clothes, but that got old fairly quickly. I knew, not just from the reactions of guys but just looking at the internet, how much bodies like mine were desired, wanted, admired, and lusted after. I knew they could drive guys crazy just for the chance to see them! Never mind touching them!

Well, that kind of thing can give a girl a bit of an ego, you know. So, I really wanted to show myself off, except at the same time I was used to being kind of a tomboy. Also, girls who 'showed off' too much were frowned upon at school. Though not, obviously, by the guys. Anyway, I wanted to show off but at the same time, I didn't want to be stared at everywhere I went!

So, like most girls, I developed a kind of compromise style of dressing where I did my best to show that I had the equipment, that I had the body, but didn't show it much. All of which is just to explain that I had never worn a 'sexy' bikini before. That was in large part because the only place I really went swimming was here and who wants to wander around in a tiny thong bikini around your dad and brothers?

Wearing it, brand new, made me feel very sexy and even sophisticated. Though to be honest my face would have been bright red if anyone I knew showed up to see me in it. In the back, the thong was just a tiny, inverted triangle at the top of my buttocks and the front was a larger version that plunged low with just two tiny black fabric strings climbing diagonally up across my hips.

The top was large enough to cover no more than half my breasts, just covering my nipples, and squeezing my breasts up and out in a very attractive fashion that would draw the eyes of any guy who saw me. Not that anyone was going to, but that hardly mattered. In fact, I had ambitions of going topless, something I sure never did usually! Maybe I'd even skinny dip!

I have long brown hair that I've always liked, even when a tomboy. But I almost always did it in a ponytail that went halfway down my back. As I did now. I set up on the deck, at first, bringing out my iced tea, book, towel, and sunscreen, and then turning on the outdoor speakers for the radio.

I unfolded one of the chaise lounges and then sat down, enjoying the view across the river. The river is pretty wide, and we're lucky here because there's a big island in the middle. There are other cottages on the far side, but no one can see us because of the island.

Of course, there could be someone set up hiding on the island with a telescope just to watch me, but that was awfully unlikely given no one knew I was here. So, since the first thing I had to do was put on the sunscreen I felt bold enough to open my top and take it off. My nipples got hard immediately, of course.

I don't know why but any sort of outside nudity always excited me because I associated nudity outside of my bedroom or bathroom with sex. And yes, I had lost my virginity up here one summer, and I had also daringly gone skinny dipping, though doing such things always required I take one of the boats some distance off and even then, I would be filled with wary anxiety.

I felt that anxiety now, too, despite being alone. It was unreasonable, but I'd spent my time since puberty making sure almost no one got to see me naked. Now I enjoyed a kind of darkly sensual moment squirting some clear sunscreen onto my chest and then letting my instantly slippery hands spread it over my breasts.

Both breasts were throbbing and felt swollen and heavy with almost no real effort on my part, and the small pink nipples tingled as my soft, warm, slippery hands spread the oil. I couldn't help squeezing them a little either. They're not huge but they overflowed my hands as my fingers dug into the soft, malleable flesh.

I told myself I was acting like a slut and spread the oil over the rest of my torso, then took off my glasses and spread it delicately over my face and neck before heading down along my thighs and legs. My heart was beating rapidly, and sex was on my mind, though. There was no reason to squirt any oil down into the tiny crotch of my bikini. But I did. Then I slid my slippery fingers down inside and gasped as they stroked across my clitoris.

This is sick, I thought as my chest tightened.

I was nervous, my head swiveling around, anxiously eyeing the trees as if someone might have snuck through them, climbed over the fence, and then climbed up to watch me.

I slipped my thong off completely, my skin feeling electric at being completely naked outside. The house was behind my head, and that made me feel paranoid, despite being sure I was alone. Suppose some burglar had gotten in somehow and hidden and now had climbed out of their hiding place and was watching me!?

I put on my glasses and tried to just settle back on the lounge chair naked and enjoy the sun, but the feel of my body under slippery fingers was just so deliciously sensuous! Even squeezing my breasts in with the undersides of my wrists felt hot, never mind my fingers as I tried to read.

Fuck it!

I let my legs spread wider and wider, slumping down in the chaise lounge, calling myself a pervert even as I drew my knees apart and squeezed my breasts. I slid my fingers down to my naked pussy, rubbing at it, then easing a single slippery finger in between the lips of my sex.

The lotion was naturally based so it wasn't going to cause any issues, and I took advantage of that as my finger slid into my warm, snug tunnel to the knuckle! My breathing grew harsher as I added a second, gasping softly as I pushed in a third.

This was so slutty! Not to mention dangerous! Suppose someone was... was somewhere with a camera and this turned up on the internet! Okay, they'd have to climb up a tree to get it but still...

I moaned as I twisted and turned my fingers, pumping them slowly in and out, imagining guys peeping at me from every direction, all getting stiff erections from watching the beautiful, sexy girl masturbating like this!

I thought about taking my glasses off again because they didn't exactly make me feel sexy. They're these large, brown, plastic things with rectangular frames around the lenses that make me look too much like a librarian. But they're for reading, by which I mean seeing things up close. And I wanted to see myself up close.

Now I had a number of fantasies at times like this, most of them born from my reading material. The problem with the books I read is that the men are all perfect. They're big, rugged, sexy, handsome, tough men, but they were also polite, sensitive, caring, sharing, respectful of women, and didn't at all mind cooking and cleaning.

Yeah, I know. Good luck with that!

My current fantasy hottie was an alpha werewolf named Robert. And I imagined him now looking down at me, growling excitedly as he watched! Robert was a big man and sex aroused his animal instincts and when he made love it wasn't gentle!

I took off my glasses, closed my eyes, and imagined Robert grabbing me, manhandling me, tossing me onto all fours and then mounting me from behind. His big hands would grab my hair and yank it back and then he would utterly pound me in a very alpha-male dominating fashion until I screamed with pleasure!

It took very little time before a tremendous orgasm blossomed within me. My hips began to buck frantically up against my fingers, which plunged in and out faster and harder as the fingers of my other hand rubbed furiously at my swollen clitoris!

I began to gasp and moan and then cry out gently, then louder. There was little need to repress my voice with no one here. There was only one cottage next to us, and that was the Dearborns, and I knew they only came up on weekends. Even so, I was outdoors, and maybe someone would be exploring. It inhibited me somewhat, but I still let my voice give vent to my pleasure as I twisted and writhed and cried out in heat and passion while plunging my fingers deep into my pussy!

"Slut," I groaned as the orgasm slowly faded.