Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
How could I put it?
“See, Mrs. Dungham, if you could be so kind to free me of this, I will definitely raise your wage for cleaning the house.”
“Is it possible that this whole thing remain between me and you? And could you please hand me those panties?”
“Ok, let’s make a deal, close your eyes and make everything I tell you. Just close your damned eyes.”
What? You do not follow me? Well, join the club, me too!
It all started yesterday evening, with me and Robb starting to cuddle on the sofa, there was nothing worth on tv. Then he shot the “look” at me and said: “I’ve got something for you, undress, quick.”
Sometimes he has this request, and usually this starts some sort of sex game, which I really like.
He has a fetish, he likes to strap me into something then he get to ravage me to orgasms without me having any chance to defend myself.
Ok, people, if that is the game, I’m game.
I left my skirt, my sweater, right over there, on the couch. He smiled then he got up and went to the bedroom. He got back with a brown bag that I did have not noted before.
Looking at me, he remarked:
“I told you to undress.”
At that point I was in the middle of the living room, wearing just my underwear, so I took off my bra then kicked away my panties, and then I was stark naked. Did not mind it, I like my body and I know for sure that he likes it too, but I was curious as hell as he got a white bundle from his bag.
He unfolded it in front of me. It was, better say it is, a white cotton straitjacket.
Was I to wear that?
“Yes, my dear. Put your arms in front of you.”
I decided to comply, and stretch my arms out and he proceeded to insert them in the jacket. That was the first time I could feel the fabric. Cotton, heavy duty but also soft and pliable.
In a whiff it was drawn to my chest and Robb started to close the straps behind my back. They where also white, quite large and I could listen to the sound of the buckles being moved. First he overlapped the two parts of the jacket then he proceeded to thread each strap into its buckle, and finally he cinched everything to make it snug.
I was already horny but he performed the cinching part slow, very slow, at least for my tastes.
There is a collar-like strap taround my neck, then there are four more to the small of my back that is where the jackets stops. And after these, it was the time for the crotch straps, two threaded to pass one left and one right of my lovely, lovely and wanting pussy.
I paraded in front of him weaving my arms still free but encased in the sleeves.
He took my head in his hands and he kissed me. I eagerly responded and we were locked together in a very deep kiss.
As he parted from me he took my left arm and threaded it thru a loop in the front of the jacket, then he picked the strap that was at the end of it and passed that in another loop stitched on the side of the jacket.
Looking at me straight in the eyes he did exactly the same with the right sleeve and he went behind me to fix the strap and cinch.
I could feel my arms pulled into my belly, in a tight embrace.
“Oh,wait. Hold on.”
He went in the bag and picked up another white strap with a buckle. He passed it thru a loop on the chest of the jacket then on two other loops stitched on the sleeves just over the elbow and when he draw this one tight i could feel my arms even more blocked.
Needless to say he then proceed to tighten also the other straps.
He made a step back as if admiring his handwork. I immediately started to feel the extent of my imprisonment.
My arms were hugging my torso and, doing this, they were pushing up my breasts that were squeezed from above from the strap that tied my elbows. And my nipples were at the point of attention, eager for attention. I could feel that under the fabric.
Every movement I tried to make with my arms was ultimately felt by the crotch straps.
“Was it necessary to fit me so tight?” I asked.
“Absolutely.” he answered with a smile then he hugged me and carried me to the couch. I sat there and he was down on the couch with me. I saw his hands exploring my predicament, then his right hand shot in the general direction of my pussy. As my hands tried to intercept his approaching I discovered the real extent of my predicament.
I could not stop him. He parted my labia with two fingers and I instantly spread my legs. If you cannot fight them, work with them, it may be easier.
As he descended with his tongue on my pussy I had to literally bit my lips not to owl like an eagle. He had draped my legs over his shoulders and pushed me against the couch. I was stuck with the man I love, eating my pussy into a extragalactic orgasm!
I cannot think of better places to be and, boy, it was awesome!
Then we took the action in the bedroom where I had to fulfil the rules of reciprocity, taking his throbbing cock in my mouth while he ravaged me once casino şirketleri more. I was exhausted from lust, when we drifted to sleep, hugging each other.
Well, he hugged me in the straitjacket, I hugged myself in the straitjacket so we were both hugging me, as a matter of fact.
That brings me directly into this situation.
I woke up twenty minutes ago to find myself in the jacket and he gone to work. Incredulous, I left the bed and scurried thru the house but he was gone, clearly.
When I decided to make some use of my nose and call him over the phone, the damn phone rang.
I left it ringing while I was deciding what do to.
Do I have to pick the call? Do I have to ignore it? Then the message machine picked up the call for me.
“Hi, honey, I suppose you are awake right now, I’m at the office and I have to work. I have called you to remember that Mrs Dungham is coming this morning to clean the house. She will be there at 9.30 and, do not worry, she has her own keys. She is the cleaning lady that services also our neighbours, remember? If you have the question I think, the right place is the cellar under the stairs in the basement. I’ve put a duvet in there just in case. Bye, Robb.”
Here is the deal, Mrs Dungham is gonna be here in 20 minutes. Fuck, options, give me options!
The more I think about it the more I’m sure the best thing is to bury myself in the basement and wait for her to finish her job before coming out.
Right now I’m thirsty and I go directly in the kitchen to get some water.
Uh, ok, but how? I go to the sink and start to move the knobs using my teeth. Then I shove my face under the faucet and drink directly from there. As i repeat the move to close the water I realize that all the windows’ drapes are not closed.
Oh man, someone from the street could see me in this state!
And I cannot even hand out tickets for the performance, dammit!
I immediately retreat to the bedroom that faces the rear part of the house.
No other choice than going down in the basement! Robb is gonna pay for this.
I open the door to the stairs below and I have to manouver with the nose to turn on the light down there.
Down there is colder than the house, and also there is the fact that the only thing that I’m wearing right now is this f… jacket.
I descend the stairs with trembling feet, one step at a time, as i hear the sound of a car stopping in our driveway.
Shit! Mrs Dungham!
I bolted down the stairs. Stricken with panic, I actually run to the door to the cellar which I try to open with my mouth.
I’m still trying with no result when I hear the front door opening. Frantically I search for another place to hide. As I spot the cardboard box that Robb discarded from the new television set. It is big enough to contain me. It’s open so I manage put my head in it and pick it up. Then I place myself in the corner of the basement and sit directly on the floor. The box covers me completely as i cross my legs against my chest and when I’m done I’m plunged in the darkness of the box.
I’m breathing heavily, in there, I feel my heart beating in my ears. This sounds is so deafening that I fear I’m not able to ear if Mrs Dungham is coming down here. I force myself to calm down and as my breath becomes more normal the kink of the situations arises.
Here I am, a prisoner in my own house, nicely packaged in a straitjacket struggling to keep my predicament hidden by the housekeeper, a nice middle aged lady with a penchant of telling everybody everything.
What if she finds me? Will I have to relocate, too shamed to make my face seen in public? Just the thought of being discovered, even dragged in public, makes me horny again, after all the activities we made last night, me and Robb.
Without thinking my hands try to reach my pussy to stimulate a full orgasm, but the embrace of the jacket does not allow me the pleasure.
I’m beyond frustration when I hear a noise, outside the box. Immediately I bit my lips to block any sound. Mrs Dungham is coming down to start the washing machine. She collects the dirty clothes around the house then she wash them and dries them.
I’m beyond terror as she comes closer to my hiding place. Then there is a thump on the cardboard box as if something was put over it, as a miracle I stop myself to cry and jump at the same time.
Mrs Dungham collects all clothes in a plastic basket and she must have put it on the box. I can hear movements but i cannot see anything outside my hiding place. Then the washer starts and the whole room is filled with noise.
I understand I’m alone again when she closes the light cutting off even the tiny slice of glow that I could see under the edge of the box, near the pavement.
I try to rub my legs together in an attempt to stimulate me but it is not enough, then I think again of my situation and the mind is a powerful drug as I sky rocket to an orgasm while hidden in the cardboard box of the new tv set.
I feel my ass turning cold, casino firmaları I’m sitting on the basement pavement, but I will be stuck here until the lady finishes her chores. Great, just great!
Being in a box in the darkness makes wonders for your sense of time. Really. Try it.
In my little part of the world, the aforementioned cardboard box, ages were passing by but outside noise from the washer stops abruptly. With an huge amount of sheer force of will, I do not allow myself to erupt in a scream. I remain still in silence, waiting.
Light on, steps, noises of hands opening the hatch of a machine, rummaging, then another sound starts. I sense a whiff of perfume from the detergent, then the dryer begin its job, of drying things, of course.
I really do not know what makes me more excited, the chance that Mrs Dungham discovers me in the box and then proceeds to tell it to the neighbours, to the televisions of the world and starts to go around in a plane dispensing leaflets containing the account of my situation with details, graphics, schemes and diagrams… or the proximity with another human being completely oblivious of the strictness of my bondage and the helplessness of my predicament.
But as the dryers stop I am still horny as a rabbit in mating season, and if the old lady does not leave the house I’m gonna jump out of this damn box and ask her to put fresh batteries in my vibrator.
Then the dryer stops.
Steps, she is humming to herself, I cannot recognize the tune. She takes the clothes off the machine and piles them up in an orderly fashion in a plastic basket, the one, the only and the same that rests, thanks to Earth gravitational pull, on the damn cardboard box.
I just hope she will pick it up.
I wait, wait some more, then I hear her closing the dryer and steps going away, light out. Ok, people, if I exit now the basket falls, still thanks to the aforementioned gravitational pull, and I will be discovered. On the other hand, if I stay here, I have to wait until, and if, i hear the sound of her car going away, immediately after she has left the house. And, also, I got to pee…
Robb, i will kill you!!
I stay put waiting for the sound of the car. Did I tell you that a dark cardboard box makes wonders with passing time? I’m really cramping when I decide that the time has come. My legs are woozy from immobility but after a while I move them under me and regain my feet. I stand up with caution but as I hear no sound of a basket crushing to the pavement, I realize that Mrs Dungham must have taken the damn thing with her.
I shake the box off my head and I’m finally free, in a dark basement, full of things, tied in a white cotton straitjacket. Walking to the stairs is painstakingly slow, first I put a foot in front and move it to probe the darkness then, when i’m sure that it is safe, I move the other.
I do not want to imagine what could happen if I would fall and hurt myself. Robb i’m gonna haunt you in your fucking dreams!!
I reach the top steps after quite a while. Did you understand the thing with the time and the cardboard box? Okay, with a dark basement is just the same, albeit a bit larger, but the same!
When I get to the top of the stair, I fell exhausted, I’m bolting thru the door as I immediately stop on my tracks.
What if Mrs Dungham has set a trap for me and is still in the house pondering on the design of those leaflets?
This cracks me up, I just did not realize that the fact of being tied in a straitjacket makes you horny and paranoid in this exact order!
I put my ear close to the door listening for any noise coming from the house. Nothing.
I wait some more. Still nothing.
Ok, if she finds me I can at least convince her to not use pink in those leaflet, I hate pink! Finally I open the door using my mouth.
The house is silent, she has closed the drapes and if the lights are off no one from the outside can guess what is going on around here. That is a bless. I’m free to move around without worrying to make a show!
I go to the living room, all tidied and clean, then I go to the kitchen.
On the counter there are some sandwich on a plate, with a post-it stitched on it.
“Your husband called. Told me to prepare this for your return. You have left your mobile home. Mrs. Dungham.”
Very thoughtful, will not make up for anything, but still very thoughtful.
The sight of food makes me aware of how hungry I am, still the need for the bathroom is overwhelming, right now.
I go there, open the lid of the wc with my left foot then sit on it.
Freedom! I do my business and when I try to grab some toilet paper, I make once again a reality check. Remember? Stuck in a straitjacket, cannot use hands, cleaning help wanted, no waste of time.
The inability to do something usually strains the mind to achieve the result in a creative way. So I go into our shower. It’s one of the walk-in models with water jets at different heights so to massage güvenilir casino the various part of the body. With some pull I close the cabin around and then I start the program pushing the dial with my nose.
Immediately water assault me from every side, it changes its temperature and intensity. I move my body to take advantage from the well placed jets to clean my most private part. But, there is always a but, I must have misjudged the effect of the jets. I’m leaning on one side of the cabin spreading my legs to let the water hit and clean my vagina. In this position I feel another jet hitting directly my anus and this triggers sort of weird sensation.
This connected with the massage from the water hitting my cavity sort of starts a strange fantasy. I close my eyes and the dream begin.
I imagine myself kept prisoner in this jacket at all times, not being able to satisfy myself and this limitation forces me to satisfy my urges when my captors clean me with high pressure water.
I think there is a similar scene in an old film with Paul Newman in which the bad guys tied him and a blondie in a pair of jackets and torture them with an hose.
I figure myself as the blonde and my excitement kicks in almost instantly, my crotch starts to move up and down, pumping and with the movement the water hits different areas sending wave after wave of signals up my spine.
The water jet pointed to my ass moves and hits around my anus, and sometimes inside it. My legs are trembling and I start to slide down as the orgasm begins. In a minute or so i’m sitting on the floor of the shower trying to grind my labia with the crotch straps.
Faraway, so close.
As I finally come down from my arousal, I feel spent, drenched with water and still horny. The program of the shower stops and I realize that the jacket is drenched as well. This makes it heavier and it fights back my movements.
I open the door to the shower and with a foot I grab one of the big towels in the rack. I succeed in pulling that over my head. Then with slow amd careful movements, I succeed in wrapping it around me.
My hairs are wet, but the house is warm, so I rest there, sitting on the bathroom floor with the towel and the jacket helping my body to dry the water.
I must have dozed off, then as I get my senses back I realize that I’m still hungry, bordering on famished, and that there is something waiting for me on the counter.
As I regain my feet and stand up, I notice that the cotton, drying, has become tighter around me, my arms are pushed even more fiercely by my sides. All the slack that there was in the jacket is gone and now it fits like a second skin, and this blocks me even that little movement that was left on the arms.
I feel my nipples touched by the fabric. They are aroused and at attention, rock hard.
I go to the kitchen, the sandwiches are still there. I lean on the counter to pick the plate with my mouth and grab it near the edge. Then I attack the first sandwich. I’m eating like a dog, without my hands, it’s humiliating but also exciting. I try to imagine what would be the sight of me curved with my ass in the air while I reach for the food on the plate. Exactly like a dog.
Still that same thought of being stuck like that brings me that sensation of horniness building in me.
The phone rings.
I stand up at the sound, thinking where can I hide quickly, then thinking why should I hide if the phone rings. The answering machine takes very seriously its job so when I do not pick up it starts with its recorded message. I near the phone listening, especially for the part “after the beep”.
It’s Robb. With the nose I push the button for the speaker.
He laughs. “I thought you were not home, I was leaving a message!”
“Where should I go trussed like this?”
“You are gonna pay!”
“Are you ok?” his voice sounds concerned.
“Yes, I’d like to scratch my nose but some prick left me in a fucking straitjacket, but that’s pretty all about it. Thanks for Mrs. Dungham nouvelle cuisine!”
“Did she found you?”
“Nope. I was hidden.”
“Did it excite you?”
“Like a rabbit.”
“Ok, i’m gonna get home in three hours. Bye.”
He hung up on me! Three more hours! Holy…
I’m standing near the phone looking at it in a state of delusion. Three hour with the ability to do nothing except hugging oneself is a bit too much. Then I get the idea.
I go to the studio and with my toe I start the computer. Then I proceed carefully to put the keyboard and the mouse on the floor. As the operating system starts I immediately go on line. At first it’s difficult to operate the mouse with my right feet, but after a while I get the hang of it.
On the bookmarks there are a lot of bondage sites, I search the one with the forum. Log on as guest then lead to the author’s corner.
You know typing using your big toes is easier than you think, but when you write what is happening to you is like living again all the sensation you have felt. There are moments in this story where I had to stop myself and nearly come here on the spot from the rousing I got just for telling the situation in which I’m stuck right now.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32