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“Happy birthday to you – happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Na-o-mii…”
Andrea’s grin slips in and out of sight behind her long fringe, and my lips twitch in response. Her right hand is triumphantly brandishing a cupcake, a single candle flame wavering above; the light brings forth my unrestrained smile. A proper party will come later in the week, on Friday, but tonight we’ve stayed in, with junk food and phone calls from family.
“…Ha-a-py birthday to-o-o…”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath; I make a wish, and blow away another year of my life.
She dumps the cake down on the table and lunges at me with a kiss. Her grin hasn’t dimmed, although her hands have wandered down to the edges of my bra. Our next kiss is interrupted by a yawn which opens my mouth wide, and reminds me of how late the evening has become. It’s Monday, and we both have work in the morning, and now we’re halfway up the stairs and I hadn’t even noticed. I tug away from her and stand at the top of the landing.
“I’m tired.” I squeeze her forearms. “Shall we go to bed?”
She pouts, and holds on to my wrists in response to my touch. “Of course we shall go to bed. That’s where I’ve hidden your last present.” Andrea twists away and pushes open the door to our bedroom, containing half of my stuff still languishing in boxes, not yet unpacked. It occurs to me that another present could wait until the morning. “Close your eyes.”
I let her lead me in to the dark, mewling a little at each stubbed toe. She stands me at the foot of the bed before darting in for another kiss. It’s a cool night, and my lover is tall; her arms encircle me and I rest my head on her right shoulder. I wriggle away as she tries to lift up my top; she moves away and leaves me to strip.
“I’ve made you something.”
Andrea had spent an entire weekend in July making me stand for hours as she took every measurement of my body she could think of – if she hadn’t made me something I might have decided to be upset with her. She speaks again.
“Ask me what I’ve made you.”
“What have you made me, Andrea?”
She’s made her way back to me across the floor; her breathing is slow and rhythmic, tired after a long day. “Call me Mistress.”
I swallow without thinking. Andrea and I are lucky in that we’ve both found ourselves a lover who is not only willing to satisfy your sexual needs, but who will enjoy doing so. I’m a natural born submissive; she’s a natural born dominant. One of the rules of our particular game is that my tiredness is not an excuse for me to not play.
“What have you made me, Mistress?”
“Hold out your arms and lower your head.” I do so, and feel the bright tickle of silk touch my hands and run along my arms, a wide neck belying a tight chest and a snug waistline which her hands tug down to the top of my hips. My hands haven’t reached the ends of the sleeves yet, but as I flex my hands to look for a hem Andrea catches them and holds them still.
“Straighten up, and cross your arms over your chest. These are your new pyjamas.”
I straighten, and my breasts pull the cloth downwards, giving a little excess tightness across my shoulderblades to go with the tightness across the top of my chest and across my tummy. The tightness increases as I cross my arms, and I take a deep breath – in part to test my ability to move, and in part to try to stop my heartbeat from quickening, so. Andrea moves behind me and pulls the long sleeve-ends underneath my arms, securing them behind my back, before binding my elbows gently to the small of my back. She comes back around to my front, and gently pulls my shoulders towards her.
I take a step into a small pile of cloth – she pulls it upwards and it becomes a hobble skirt, again made of silk, and with an elasticated pair of control briefs at the top, which she worked up over the blouse, constricting me further and leaving nothing to the viewer’s imagination. Leading me over to the side of the bed, she crouches before me and pulls on some sewn-in ribbons, wrapping my legs tight together. By applying gentle pressure, she makes it clear that I was to lie down on my right-hand side. She joins me, and snakes her right arm under my neck to meet her left arm coming over antalya escort my waist at the top. With a heavy breath, she whispers into my left ear as she pulls the thick duvet over the top of us.
“These are your new pyjamas. Do you understand?”
The silk straitjacket makes it hard to draw in enough breath to speak evenly. Andrea has put two pillows below my head, and I sink my head down before speaking.
A little pause. I can just hear the sound of the whistle of air passing between her lips, still just apart in the grin with which she flourished my birthday cake. Her head wavers just a little, sleepy, before she asks her next question.
“Do you like them?”
I flex my hips; the control briefs stretch and the silk of the hobble skirt tickles my legs ever so slightly; I need to remember to shave before Friday. The blouse pulls downwards as well; my breasts are still well bound. I can’t move my arms at all; my hands themselves are beneath my underarms, and her hands are on me with their usual firmness. I let out a tiny sigh, and tell the honest truth.
“I do like them, Mistress, but this isn’t quite how I’d usually sleep and I’m not quite comfortable.”
I feel her nod behind me, and hear her hair whisper across the pillow. “Could you learn to sleep in this position?”
“…Yes, Mistress. After a while.”
I hear my lover lick her lips before speaking. “We’ve been talking about starting to train you to change your habits as part of our game. Would you be comfortable learning to sleep bound like this, at least three nights a week?”
I pause to consider. I love Andrea. I love our sex life and the game that we play. I trust her absolutely to allow me to change my mind later if I really need to. I open my eyes to the bedroom, unbidden, and answer.
“Yes, Mistress. I would like that.”
“Say it to Andrea.”
“Okay. Yes, Andrea. I would like it if you trained me to sleep how you would like me to sleep.”
She leans over to kiss me on the cheek. “Happy Birthday, Naomi. Sleep tight.”
The cold amber lights swing above the car as Andrea drives slightly too fast, slightly too curtly. My lips won’t open to ask her to slow down – I’m afraid that if I try then she might lose control and crash – or I might lose control and cry again. The dim sparks keep swinging above, always just out of focus.
Stupid Jake with his stupid smile and his stupid hands that are still nice to hold even after three years, and stupid Andrea for not stopping me from inviting him, and stupid whiskey for making me drunk and for making me not mind so much when he took my hand in his. Stupid whiskey, stupid Andrea for being angry. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The lights swing above the car. Flash, flash, flash.
We brake with a crunch, sending up a little spray of gravel in front of our house. Did I kiss him? I’m standing outside the car in the chill of the night, looking down at the wing mirror whilst she gets out and locks the car. I didn’t kiss him. We’re inside the hallway and my pumps won’t quite come off. I’ll whisper that I need to get some water.
The kitchen is quieter and brighter. There’s no Andrea here, and no Jake either. There’s a Naomi, and the cold water feels so good going down my throat and into my belly. I blink away some of the fuzziness, and look up into the dark glass of the window. I look like crap. My hand brushes back a wisp or two of hair, then reaches for some kitchen roll to attack my smudged mascara.
I make my way upstairs and use the bathroom before stepping into our bedroom. Andrea’s sitting in the corner, glowering at a technical manual, stone cold sober and still angry. My lower lip begins twitching, and I take a long breath in before trying to speak.
She flicks her head up to see that I’m present, and flicks back down to her book. My weight shifts from foot to foot as I pick the easiest path.
“Can we talk about what happened tonight?”
“I’d rather go to bed,” came the blunt response.
I hesitate. “Okay.”
We pace to face opposite corners of the room before stripping off. As I place my t-shirt down on the back of a chair, I can hear the sounds of jeans being flung into a pile. It’s a Friday, but I stop at my pants alanya escort and hang by the end of the bed, unsure as to how angry Andrea is, and about whether or not she’ll ever want to touch me again after tonight. She doesn’t acknowledge my hesitation, but holds out the blouse for me to work myself into.
In bed I feel the ribbons that encircle me, worked tight with anger at my betrayal. I work up my courage again.
“Please may we talk about what happened tonight?
Andrea’s heavy breathing flows down over my neck as my lover struggles for calm before spitting each quiet word. “I would rather sleep.”
I open my mouth again to plead with her, to apologise, to say that I’m sorry and that I love her and I don’t want this to end the way it always ends, but she’s made a decision and sat up. The tense notes in her voice are still present, but are now dull and tired.
“Since I would like to go to sleep,” she said. “There is a section of your gift that I haven’t used yet. May I attach it now?”
I’d do anything for her when I’ve screwed up this badly. I won’t ask what it is; I trust her.
She gets up properly, her right arm brushing under my neck as she detangles, and walks out of my line of sight. I hear her slide open her chest of drawers and walk back over to me. From looking up at her lain down I am lifted into a sitting position.
“This is a hood. Close your eyes and mouth.” As I comply she starts to unroll the fabric over me. My ears are free, as is my nose, but everything else becomes covered in thick, unyielding silk. As she reaches my neck she puts into place something hard and hinged – a stiff leather collar to protect my neck – before tying very tight the neck ribbons. I am left unable to see, unable to open my mouth, and unable to stop the silent hot tears that, now hidden, are coming out to wet my eyelids.
I feel her hands lay me down before securing the hood that my Mistress and lover would like me to wear tonight – a long ribbon now weaves over my arms and down to my waist, now going through my legs and anchoring to the same spot that binds my elbows. Her arms come around me again and I feel her strength and her tension. Without thinking, I snuggle closer to her – and in the warmth of my pjyamas the tight ribbon binding my hood to my back slides easily over my crotch and sparks a few unexpected signals from my clit. I’m synaesthetic – when things touch me I ‘see’ it as colours inside me. These signals were a pleasant amber.
Surprised, I snuggle a bit closer, and then a bit further away from Andrea, making the ribbon slide back and forth and making my skin glow – to be met again with her tense arms. I remember suddenly the evening with Jake’s wandering eyes, and stop my moving. I will fall asleep in my lover’s arms, and that’s more than I deserve.
Something smells very good. I try to stretch and sigh – I’m getting used to waking up in a straitjacket, but that in itself is a little weird and will take some getting used to. I could use some water, too. Slowly I flex, exploring the bed with my hobbled feet, and bump into what, after careful exploration, resolves into a foot attached to a leg and knee.
“Morning, sleepyhead. Want some water?”
I nod as vigorously as a hangover and bondage hood will allow. The foot I’m touching vanishes as Andrea slips away from me and pads around the bed. There are sounds I don’t recognise until she lays a plastic straw flat beneath my nose. It squashes beneath the fabric and pokes down into my mouth, where I start sucking. After the straw goes dry I hear more motion, and then feel a tap on my side. I start sucking again and am rewarded with more water.
“Well, now. If only you weren’t tied up, you could have some of this delicious fried breakfast.” The straw is withdrawn. “Do you need to pee, hun?” I shake my head; I’m just about rehydrated now. Her hand reappears on my left flank and strokes me gently. “You do look sweet in that hood. Straighten yourself out; lie flat on your back.”
I obey, and the crotch ribbon slips easily over my pants and makes me twitch a little. Her hand is gentle against my side, as she strokes, strokes… and then flicks her fingers against me.
My body spasms and I let a furious squeal into belek escort my hood as the sick blue lights tickle me inside. Andrea has jumped onto the bed proper, straddling me, and has a hand at each of my sides, scratching the silk against my skin. The sick blue lights from the tickling start to mix with amber, and I realise that I’m kicking my bound legs back and forth, rubbing myself with the long ribbon. Andrea is still on top of me, stopping me from moving too far and falling off the bed. How long has it been since she stopped tickling?
“No, don’t stop.” I can hear her smile through her words. “Keep going. I’ll be back in a sec.”
The weight on my hips disappears and I feel the mattress tilt as she gets off. If I lift my knees all the way up to my chest and straighten them back out slowly, my body tries to moan as the amber warmth spreads upwards and backwards into my core.
“Hey.” A clattering door announces Andrea’s return from downstairs. “You sound like you’re having fun. I’m going to need you to sit up for this next bit.” Hands appear on my shoulders, supporting me as I try to rise. The hobble skirt is tight, but I can just about sit in the foetal position with Andrea behind me taking my weight. She speaks into my ear.
“If you’d like me to release you, then nod your head now.”
I shake my head.
“Okay. You might have noticed that your top is quite tight?” I nod. “Well, these,” my right breast suddenly pinched, the pain shining bright red in my mind, “are clothespins,” my left breast pinched just as tight – I would gasp but can’t open my mouth, “and this” as her hand snakes down behind me “is your lower back…”
I moan into a closed mouth as she begins to tickle me again. My back is sensitive but ticklish, and as the amber sparks start up once more I can’t stop myself wiggling my hips from left to right to try to stop her. The wriggling pulls tight my blouse, and pulls the clothespegs from side to side, giving another splash of pain that brings me back to myself. I try to stop moving, but her hand starts again, and again I wriggle. More pain and more pleasure. I bow forward and the tips of the clothespins touch my knees. This time there is no doubt about it – a long, drawn out moan goes out into the hood that is keeping me blinded.
Andrea stops her ticklilng, and whispers in my ear.
“Move to the edge of the bed. Good. Are your feet on the floor? Okay, stand.” The change in posture snakes the ribbon over my clit, releasing an amber glow that competes with the twin sharp red pains coming from my breasts. Andrea leads me forward, slowly, then turns me around and backs me up against the wall, occasionally quietly giggling at my high pitched squeaking.
She pulls the crotch ribbon tight, and I hear her hand slide down it and stop just short of my clit. I understand now why the control briefs weren’t made of silk; they’re soaking wet now. Her other hand – her right, I can feel the pressure of her arm against my side – has slid up my back to the top of the crotch ribbon. She releases it, but holds it tight. Her left hand starts to pull it slowly through my legs, her right maintaining the tension. I shudder as the warm glow building between my legs becomes a little brighter – a little more alive.
The ribbon comes free, and a hand appears at my neck, slowly working off my hood. I take a deep breath in as my mouth is freed, and let it slowly through my nose. I am still tight bound against a wall, with Andrea’s breath close to my face, and my legs starting to feel weak from the excitement within me. Another deep breath, and my eyes can see. I blink, but she has already begun to another kiss, slow, and I close my eyes against the morning light. A hand on my right shoulder is keeping me steady, while another is gently twisting at the pegs on my nipples, making my breaths short and sharp.
Andrea breaks off from the last kiss, and steps back slightly, still holding me steady. I must have slept very late; her hair is already brushed back and she looks wide awake. There’s a small, quirked smile on her face.
“Did Jake ever do anything like this for you?”
I blink, and shake my head quickly. She chuckles and leans back in for another long kiss. With my Mistress’ warmth against my submissive form, she murmurs in my ear.
“I didn’t think so.”
Below, I hear a click, and the sound of a vibrator starting. As her left hand holds my shoulders close, I feel a pressure against my crotch, and suddenly the world is nothing but amber light, amber light that blazes like the sun.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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