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Chapter 2: Moira's Introduction to Chains
Moira MacPeak dropped off Isabel at her front door, gave her a hug goodbye until Monday and continued home a short distance away. Driving in, she put the car in park, turned off the engine, picked up her packages and walked into the house straight to the master bedroom.
She dropped the little bag of chain on the bed, unfolded her new nightgown and sat on the bed looking at herself in the dressing table mirror. "What the heck, I've come this far so I may as well put 'em on and see what I look like," Moira said, running her hands through her medium-brown hair, then pushing up her 36-C breasts to see how they looked in exaggerated fashion.
"Na-aw, that's not me," she said, dropping her breasts. "Is. doesn't wear a bra; maybe I'll try going like that, too. It's August, after all, and some women in town are going without so it shouldn't be a great surprise to anyone," she said, suddenly self-conscious.
Moira looked at her 33-year-old body critically as she undressed slowly to put on the nightgown to check for fit, appearance and sex appeal.
Naked in a late afternoon for the first time in many years, she looked at her 5-ft. 4-in., 118-lb. body, noting the flat stomach, slightly pendulous breasts, long, light-brown nipples with medium-sized aureoles and her long, muscular legs and athletic body she had acquired from years of grammar-school girl's rugby.
She turned toward the bed, stood and pulled the long, sandy-coloured nightgown over her head and smoothed it over her hips, picking at the skinny shoulder straps as she turned to examine her profile in the mirror.
"Hm-m, not too bad at all, especially after two children and 15 years of marriage," Moira said to no one in particular. She caressed her breasts through the smooth silky bodice and noticed her half-inch-long nipples grow suddenly erect, with a noticeable tingle in her bosom.
"Ah-h, that's the ticket," Moira said, as she sat on the bed, feeling her breasts bounce slightly as she reached for the little pile of grey-silver, galvanized-steel links. "Now, just how do these go on?"
She draped one end round her left ankle and held the end link and another, six-in. away, between her two fingers. She had the lock in her right hand and easily passed the shackle through the two links, closing the lock with a soft snap. She looped another short length of chain about her right ankle, closed two links with the remaining padlock and stood up for the first time ever in chains.
She hobbled, clumsily at first, over to the full-length bedroom mirror and gave herself another critical look, noticing first the 24-in. span of links between her ankles. But the short walk caused the coarse, granular surface of the galvanized links to rub and lightly abrade the skin above her ankle bones and she knew she would have to get another, smooth type of chain.
She sat on the bed, unlocked the galvanized chain from her ankles, took off the nightgown, folded it and put it on her side of the bed, got dressed in slacks and pullover sweater only -- no bra -- and headed back into town.
She was only slightly less nervous the second time in the hardware store but she knew Angus wanted to close early -- it was getting close to 5 p.m. Saturday and he had other things to do than to tend a fidgety woman who was nervous, of all things, about buying a piece of chain.
"Mr. MacEwan," Moira began nervously, "I need to substitute this, er, ah, chain, for another. Can you help, please?" She felt her long nipples grow hard again, this time with anxiety and excitement, against the prickly wool pullover.
"This way, Mrs. MacPeak," Angus said, stealing a quick glance at her lovely, braless breasts that swayed and bounced lightly with Moira's movements, the nipples poking through indiscreetly.
The two walked to the chain display and Angus, trying to be helpful, asked Moira again what the chain was going to be used for.
Moira stammered and said she was going to try and secure her picnic table to prevent vandals from taking it like they did to her two years ago.
"Aye, I see," Angus said, not believing her. "Then the galvanized chain you have should do the job." Oh, no, thought Moira, the jig's up. She thought for a few seconds, Angus thought it was some kind of weird women's delay tactic, and suddenly shouted: "The stainless steel one; that won't rust, will it?"
"No, Mrs. MacPeak, stainless steel will not rust. Will you take three feet of it? I'll make it the same price as the galvanized."
"Yes, yes; the stainless chain, please," Moira stammered, turning beet-red again as her Scottish intuition told her Mr. MacEwan must by now know what she was up to. Angus cut her the requisite length, said "No charge, Mrs. MacPeak; even trade," and escorted her to the door.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. MacPeak," Angus said. "Have a lovely weekend."
"You too, Mr. MacEwan; thank you for your assistance."
Moira literally ran to her car with her soon-to-be ankle restraints -- a three-ft. length of 3/16ths, oblong, stainless-steel chain -- and drove carefully home. In the master bedroom 15 minutes later, she undressed, put on the long nightgown, sat on the bed and, for the second time in less than an hour locked her ankles, this time in smooth-finished stainless steel. She again looked at herself in the mirror -- unaware her husband had been seated in the living room with her padlocks' keys in his pocket -- and tried to imagine what Graham would say and do when he saw her.
"Moira, you look superb," Graham said quietly, standing in the bedroom doorway.
"Ohmigod, Graham; you scared the daylights out of me," Moira gasped, hand to her breast, as she turned to face him, nearly tripping over the 24-in. chain. "How long have you been standing there? I didn't hear you come in."
"Moira, I've been home 15 minutes; you came rushing in and didn't even notice me sitting there. Now, to change the topic, when did you get the notion that I wanted to see you in chains? I've wanted to see you like this since before we were married but..."
"Oh, Graham," Moira sighed, as she shuffled toward him to throw her suntanned arms around his neck. The young couple walked together, hand in hand, to the bed and Graham, a powerfully-built Scots-born bricklayer, lowered his lovely lass to the bed and quickly undressed to lie beside her. His member was rock-hard as began his customary session of foreplay that brought Moira MacPeak to sexual frenzy in minutes.
He always seemed to target her long nipples with his lips and teeth, she knew, and this afternoon it would be no different. Nipples, clit, lips, neck; then back again, she said to herself. Same old...
But, to her great surprise and pleasure, in just five minutes she was in sexual splendour, moaning deeply, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, as she spread her legs to the full 24-in. span her links allowed her.
"Crawl underneath 'em, Graham," Moira instructed, taking her cue from Isabel's explanation of how turned on she got when she and Peter enjoyed sex in chains.
Graham finished his attentions to Moira's erect, sensitive nipples and slithered down between her legs, got her ankle chains easily over his neck and partway down his back and wriggled his way up further as Moira spread her knees wide at his hips to accommodate him. His manhood slipped inside Moira with customary ease but the new sensation of Moira's chained ankles at the base of his spine did wonders for both of them. Moira's legs were widespread, immobile, her knees immobile at his hips, and Graham could feel her chained ankles tugging expectantly at his back as he began slow, deep thrusts into her.
Ten minutes later, both were near mutual orgasm and Graham was the first to climax after a series of pounding "vinegar strokes" as Moira called them. ("Look at your face after you take a drink of vinegar, Graham," she said once).
"A-aaag-ggg-hhh, Moira; here, take it," he said softly, as he pounded his woman with his hard bricklayer's body, shooting his cum deep inside her. Moira lifted her hips and widespread thighs legs to meet her man's powerful thrusts and she reached her first of three climaxes that wracked her body as though voltage current was being passed through her.
"Mmmm-mmm-yyyyyyy God, I'm coming; hang onto me," Moira gasped as she thrust her hips against Graham's loins passionately. She clutched at his broad, powerful back with her hands and ankles as tight as she could as the next two orgasms spasmed her over and over for 30 seconds.
Both fell back against the soft mattress, exhausted, but quietly enthused that such a piece of utilitarian stainless steel could provide them sexual stimulation and reward.
Moira and Graham lay quietly in each other's arms, looking into each others eyes, then away. Graham spoke first. "Moira, who told you about wearing chains? Isabel? You know, I've wanted to see you like this, and do you like this, for so long. Let's keep the chains on you overnight and see what happens. Tomorrow's Sunday, too, don't forget, and we don't have to be anywhere, so let's experiment a bit." Moira was only too happy to agree and the chains were not bothering her as much as she thought they would.
Half an hour later, Graham's vigour restored, the MacPeak bedroom was alive with groans, creaks and the soft clink of Moira's ankle chains as sexual ecstasy gripped the couple once again.
At 2 a.m., Sunday, the couple collapsed, sexually exhausted, into each other's arms, concluding a marathon, eight-hour session of intense lovemaking neither had experienced heretofore -- thanks to the fitting of a piece of chain on Moira MacPeak's ankles and some information and advice from a woman who had already been there. Graham's and Moira's experiments and adventures in bondage were about to begin.
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