She let out a long and soft moan, but it was only in her head. Her mouth, packed with an overinflated gag didn’t let any sound through.
She tried to release the tension on her arms, but nothing moved, her elbows locked into many coils of rope prevented it. The same with her wrists, all very much tightly secured to her upper body.
She tried to change her position, but again, she was just a tight package, her legs bent backward, her ankles linked to more coils of rope around her shoulders, and her wrists stretched toward her knees. The top ring of her harness gag was tightly drawn to her ankles, putting her into an extreme arched position.
She felt the wind blow and the pattern of sun and shadow on her black latex suit, created by the tree from which she was suspended into this strict hogtie position, changed slowly.
She felt some drool leave the panel of her blow-up gag and run down on the ground, a few feet below her.
She could wiggle her fingers and her feet, encased in bright red leather high heel pumps.
That was all.
She felt a presence. She heard a soft giggle through her latex hood. Phil was close to her, checking on her, hearing her breathing. If anything felt wrong, he would release her on the spot. But so far, everything was fine, even though she’s been hanging there or oven an hour now.
She could cope with it. He knew it. She knew it. But most of all, she liked it.
And he liked his part of the deal. The part of slowly wrapping her in coils of rope, getting her limbs, her body more immobile after each coil, each knot, each twist and pass of the unyielding rope.
He loved the feeling, the sight of removing her freedom, one rope at time, taking it away from one arm, then the other, then one leg, then the other, then her whole body, putting it into a nice tight package.
She would moan at each tug, at each pull. She loved the feeling of the restriction. She loved when the rope wrapped itself around her ankles, one turn, two turn, three, four, five turns, taking a firm grip like a large hand, squeezing them together, then the center rope, chincing them, putting the final no on her mobility. She could wiggle her toes. That was it.
She loved how she was losing, slowly, gradually, her freedom. She was not afraid. She knew Phil. She knew he was a very good rigger, that he would never hurt her… unless she asked for it, of course. A good hard slap on her latex encased butt, from time to time, would stop her squirming. She would startle, then giggle. No harm done. Only pleasure. For the both of them.
As she becomes more and more restrained, her breathing begins to shake. That’s the signal that pleases Phil: she’s getting into it. He knew he had done a good job. He would work harder to make it perfect.
And perfect this was. As always.
She felt his hand on her head. She tried to squirm, but the little she did only made some more sweat move from one part to another of her tightly encased body. She was cooking in her own juice, as she liked to say.
“The best sauna of the world” she would answer.
Phil was also in his own tight, black latex neck entry catsuit, and he was a fan of high heels too, sporting his favorite boots.
His hand slid along her body, over the tight coils of rope of her arms, then down to her waist, her thigh, and at her knee, when he took a firmer, yet gentle grip, keeping her still, stopping her gentle balancing.
She heard it, faintly, but she felt it, powerful.
The magic wand was pressed against her crotch, itself filled with two huge dildos. The vibrations were transmitted. Powerfully, to her inner body.
She tried to move away. She couldn’t. He pressed harder for a time, then removed the pressure, keeping it just barely touching.
How frustrating! She was suspended. She had no way to ‘push down’ to reach it.
That was one hell of a teasing. He was holding the wand in one hand and using the other to tease her breasts, hanging in their latex confinement. He would pinch them through their layer of latex.
She was in heaven and in hell at the same time.
He knew her. He knew how to trigger her, to hold her, to deny her, and he played with her for eons. She was getting high, then frustrated, then on the edge for so long, before being denied, and then, as if he was watching power-ups apps, he would crank her, higher and higher, not allowing her to launch, but only getting her more and more aroused, and then, only then, would he push her, triggering the orgasm, letting her explode. Her crotch would be on fire and her mind filled with fireworks in a fiery non-stop cascade of explosions of pleasure, reverberating through her whole body. The feeling of the ropes of the restraints was acting like mirroring zones, pushing the pleasure back toward another one. Each time she would fight against a bound, the pleasure would just grow back up.
He would take great mental pleasure, knowing that he succeeded, once again, at sending her through space. He knew his rewards would come. Karen also loves to bound him and tease him. They were the perfect match.
The wand had been removed. He knew she didn’t need it anymore. The fuse had been lit. She was still experiencing the orgasm, the high level hormones flowing through her body like non-stop lightning strikes.
Slowly, peacefully, harmlessly, they subsided, and she gradually came to a soft stop, only her heart was racing and her lungs in fire.
“I believe you need to cool down a little.” he said, giggling. “That looked like one hell of a powerful one!” he said.
Karen tried to answer: yes. She very rarely felt something that powerful for so long, and this one was… “NO! NOT THAT!!!” she tried to yell as she felt the cold spray of the garden hose.
That was a high contrast: her skin warmed and almost cooked by the sun, her body and her mind hot by the exercise she just did, and now the hard cold shower from the garden hose!
Yes, it sure cools her down.
But after the initial shock, it was welcomed. She was perhaps too hot. They knew they were taking risks, sealing themselves in rubber on such a hot day.
She felt her blow-up gag deflating, and the mouth flap was removed, letting out a mouthful of slimy drool.
Immediately, she felt the cool gentle flow of cool water in her mouth.
She drank. Slowly. Even though she was very thirsty, she knew to go slowly. She could hear him giggle.
“You’ll pay for that, you know that, don’t you?”
“I’m counting on it, my love. I’m counting on it.” he answered, putting the gag back in place and pumped it fully.
He then placed the oscillating sprinkler under her and turned the water on so that she would receive a constant sweep of soft jets of cool water.
“I’ll be back in half an hour. Just cool off.” he said, giggling.
She moaned, or tried to.
It wasn’t that bad, actually, and with a cool head, she would be able to think… of a cold revenge.
© Pete / monsterp63, July 9, 2020
Sequel? Dunno. Not very “hot” at the idea of writing from a man’s point of view. Silly, I know but I prefer to “see” and describe women squirm rather than men.
Replacing Phil with Valerie or Lynda, I would indeed write a sequel, but I wanted this story to be about the love of a straight couple.
If someone wants to have a go at it, I don’t mind. I’ll post it with all due credits.
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