Fire and Ice for the Holidays

She whimpers… unsure of my intentions.

Completely naked, except for the satin blindfold and oversized ballgag held in her beautiful lips, she is on all fours on my oversized coffee table. I can tell she can see a little bit, despite the blindfold, her subtle head movements give it away. The room is completely dark, devoid of any light, except the tiny tea-light candle I hold in the palm of my left hand.

“Wicked Game” plays as I circle her, my bare feet moving silently on the floor as the flickering flame seems to cause shadows to leap and reach for her body.

[leaning close, I whisper into her left ear] “You want something, don’t you?”

I place my ice-filled highball glass against her left hip, condensation clings to her skin and begins to trickle down her thigh.

Her head turns to the left and she nods slowly… maybe even utters another muffled whimper. She knows those sounds she makes while gagged drive me insane, she does it on purpose… no doubt about it.

I move behind her, trailing the cold glass back over her left cheek, briefly nestling into the cleft of her bumm, the cold against her naughty bits causes her to spasm just a bit, then I continue to move the frigid glass over her right cheek, then to her right hip.

[leaning close, now I whisper into her right ear] “Where do you want me?”

Sweat from my highball glass tickles down the outside of her right thigh as her head now turns to the right and I think I see a smile with that huge ballgag filling her mouth. She wags her bumm subtly, naughtily… so vulnerable in this position… she excites me so much I can barely control myself. I take the glass from her skin and in a sweeping motion, pass the candle beneath her horizontal body. The light and shadow play across the walls and even the ceiling is indescribable, and as the heat licks up at her bellybutton, she sucks in both her tummy and a quick breath… and freezes.

I smile at the irony… the ice makes her hot… but the flame caused her to freeze… completely freeze. Her head is still cocked to the right, but now there’s no hiney shaking and teasing… now she’s not entirely sure what is about to happen.

I move the candle out from beneath her and bring it up close to my face, my lips close… so close to her right ear... “Lover…

[I place the cold highball glass right at her tailbone… balanced precariously atop those haunches… it causes her to arch and shudder suddenly and the glass shakes and sloshes… the ice chips clinking around]

… you’re going to have to beg.”

She seems to relax a bit, perhaps liking the thought of begging for what she knows I am dying to give her, feeling like she has a bit of control over her situation… but her reprieve is short-lived.

I pass the candle beneath her, lingering momentarily near her right breast… the flame’s heat instantly licking at her nipple and I feel her entire body tense... she inhales sharply, despite the gag in her mouth and I think was about to cry out.

My right hand, no longer holding the highball glass, but still terribly cold, is instantly on her right breast, kneading it roughly in my cold, wet hand… then tugging down mercilessly at her nipple… her arms momentarily wobble and I imagine beneath the black satin blindfold, her eyes flutter.

Maybe she’s pondering her decision to sneak away from her life and come to my home tonight.

[my hand comes away from her breast, then begins to work at the buckle holding her gag in place]

Maybe she’s wondering if I’m going to hurt her in ways she’s not entirely comfortable with.

[I release the gag and with a wet kissing sound, it falls from her inviting mouth]

[her lip quivers… her head still cocked to the right… then she speaks without permission] “The glass of ice… sooo cold… it burns”

Condensation running down the side of the glass has pooled nicely on her backside and with every breath, with every movement… the ever growing little puddle of chilled water threatens to surrender to gravity and trickle down between her ass cheeks, wetting her rosette and chilling her kitty nicely.

I lean in close to her right ear again… but this time… hissing “Yessssss.”

I reach and take the highball glass, replacing it with the tea light candle, setting it carefully at her tailbone… hot wax pooling around the base of the wick… it’s only a matter of time until it spills over the edge of the candle and drips.

I don’t think she knows what I’ve done… I’m quite certain that her body was bit numb from the highball glass… I doubt she’s aware the candle is even resting on her… or that she’s only a >twitch<>spasm< away from the surprise and sting of the hot wax

“Open up love, I have something for you.”

Your mouth opens obediently and I roughly push inside… your head moves against me, meeting my every thrust… the cold glass and burning candle continue to balance on your backside… but as my thrusting continues to be more forceful… it is only a matter of time.

“Steady love… steady… or you’ll make me cum”

Clearly… you take that as a challenge and begin to move and gyrate more fervently. You take me all the way inside, the sounds of your sucking me begin to drown out the music playing… you are soooo good at what you do.

I look down and see the hot wax rolling around at the wick’s base… about to slosh out any second. To seal my fate, I lean down and whisper into your ear “Mmmm, I’m going to cum in your mouth.”

You move suddenly… too suddenly… perhaps to gain some leverage, maybe to just slightly adjust your position to better accommodate me in your mouth, but I see the wax lap up over the edge of the candle and spill onto your skin. It’s hot… no doubt about it… I’m sure it burns… just a little. You stop sucking, and there is a gagged whimper… but it’s alright lover… I’ll finish your work for you. I close my eyes and place my hands behind your head as my body flies past the point of no return. My last few violent thrusts into your defenseless mouth cause more of the hot wax to slosh out and splatter on to your backside and I see your fingers have curled, as if trying to claw at the soft pine wood of the coffee table you are being violated upon.

I push deep into your mouth, then freeze… holding… stretching the instant… then to the sound of your muffled cries and whimpers, my cock erupts… my mind reels as I empty myself into you… and you consume me… totally… completely… absolutely.

Bent For The Holidays

Bent

Predator, prey and pet

I watched her from my window, I’d been home the better part of the workday, another “sickday.”

[the corners of my mouth turn up just a bit]

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“sick”

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[I shake my head slightly, not liking the term at all… “sick” implies weakness, vulnerability, I don’t fancy myself as either.

She approaches my house from the side, her car… no where to be seen out front… probably around the corner somewhere.

She goes around back… but before I lost sight of her, I believe I sensed a bit of apprehension, a slight… hesitation as she made one last glance behind her.

Maybe it wasn’t hesitation at all, maybe she was just making sure to cover her tracks, to make sure no one had seen.

I hear the door open…slowly

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then quietly close.

She’s inside now, my territory, my playing field, yet again, I have the home-field advantage.

It’s playing out almost too easily

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[shaking my head].

“Never pursue something into it’s own den no matter how timid, weak or submissive you think the potential prey seems.”

Maybe that was the hesitation I had sensed, maybe she knew she was crossing a line, breaking a rule.

She’s no rookie, no clumsy newbie… she’s tough, this one… no doubt about it.

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Why was this one pursing me so…

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eagerly,

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hungrily,

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recklessly?

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[head still shaking]

Based upon the series of emails we’d exchanged, she’d expected me to be home alone. Probably surprised when she drove by and she did not see my car, but rather than leave… curiosity got the best of her.

[stifled laugh] “I’ll say”

She’d made the block, then approached on foot, probably planning on having a “scene” ready to shock me or something when I would come home later.

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[head still shaking]

I move silently through the house towards her, knowing every creaky board in the hardwoods to avoid.

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My breathing is slow, deep, controlled.

Her perfume hits me… and without even thinking, I stop in my tracks, close my eyes and take it in… savoring her scent.

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My eyes open as I hear her rustling in the master bedroom, rooting through the dresser, armoire and nightstands… probably looking for evidence of the sorts of things I’ve “confessed” online to her that I’m interested… the sorts of things we’ve had pervy chats about and things that have come up in our little “cyber sessions.”

I come up behind her, almost wishing she’d spun around…

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I just wanted to see that look in her eyes…

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that look that registers everytime…

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when the mighty predator realizes they’ve become prey.

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Her scent is intoxicating, her dress, black, tasteful, professional, a fitted black button-up blouse, pencil skirt to the knees, black fishnet hosiery, clearly worn on purpose… to remind me of the naughty “French Maid” costume banter we’ve shared online… and probably thigh-highs rather than pantyhose… maybe the signature uniform of a Domme, according to some “alternative” dress code somewhere. Her heels, a little higher than practical for office wear, but then again, her best work clearly was not performed in an office setting, clearly those shoes have a different purpose altogether.

I raise the battery-powered gadget in my left hand. My eyes leave her shapely body and glanced down at the shiny little electrodes on the tazer… they seemed eager to nip at her supple flesh.

I roll my eyes as I hear you say,

"Ahhhh, you naughty fella, what is a good boy like you doing with such naughty toys?"

You bend over, retrieving what must be a few items that caught your eye, then you stand, clutching your prizes to your chest, eyes probably closed in anticipation of the pleasure you know they can bring you…

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or perhaps you’re pondering torturing me with them

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you breathe in deeply...

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completely oblivious as I place the zapper against your right buttock and squeeze the trigger.

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[ZZZZAAAPPPP]

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You're immediately unconscious and go limp, collapsing right into my waiting arms, like a woman in and old Bogart movie, swooning after a train station kiss.

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All too easy.

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I scoop you up, looking at your face, beautiful…

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still…

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smiling.

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and even after the bite of the tazer… still smiling.

Though unconscious, you still are clutching the “toys."

[*smirk*] “Girls and their toys.”

Carrying you in my arms like a new groom does his bride, I move through my house and enter the guest bedroom that so obviously is used for storage.

The room has a number of boxes stacked up, some winter clothes hanging in the closet, a single- sized pillow-topped mattress on the floor me with another leaning against the wall, then several other mattresses leaning lazily against the walls.

Gently and carefully, I place you on the mattress, position your hands down by your side, then place the toys on the floor nearby.

It’s a soft mattress, so it sags in the middle a bit, allowing your body to sink in, enveloping you a little.

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You look so peaceful…

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I want you to be comfortable.

Tugging roughly at the buttons of your blouse, releasing them from top to bottom, I cannot stifle a smile at seeing your black, satin bra doing its best to contain your breasts. The black material over your white skin is captivating, like a masterful charcoal sketch,

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black and white - but full of life and passion,

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the absence of other colors in no way diminishes the image.

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I snake one hand beneath you, behind your back and pull you towards me, to sit you up. Your face nestles against my chest, beneath my chin as I work to peel your shirt from you.

Your breathing is shallow and warm, rhythmic against my chest. Soothing

I lie you back down and again, my eyes take you in.

“Ooops, appears we lost a shoe!”

Undoubtedly, one of your “fuck-me-pumps” dropped from your foot as I carried you in here.

The asymmetry bothers me, so I kneel down, taking your left ankle into my hand while I ease your other shoe off.

In my firm grip, I can feel the tone of your leg,

“You must work out… clearly you take care of yourself.”

I lay your shoe down, but continue holding your ankle, then my hand works up towards your knee. The sheer, nylon barrier between my hand and your leg teases me…

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the texture entices me to…

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making me crave the smooth flesh beneath.

“Damn you are a tease, even when you’re not even trying!”

I lean over you, snake my right hand beneath your bumm, and find your skirt’s zipper. Your skirt unzips, but I remain there, over you, one hand beneath you, the other, supporting me. Our bodies like this, so close, it makes me smile and I close my eyes and breathe deeply again, now the perfume, is mixing nicely with the natural smell of your body.

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An intoxicating combination.

I return to the foot of the mattress and slide the skirt down over your shapely hips, down your sexy legs, then off over your feet.

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[smiling]

“I KNEW the fishnets were stockings!”

The garter and panties are black satin, just like your bra, a more beautiful image I cannot imagine.

I kneel beside you and place my right hand against the crotch of your panties. Wet, warm, just like I imagined. My fingers snake inside of the satin, touching your moist lips,

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[raising an eyebrow]

“My! How wet you are.”

Hooking my now soaked fingers around the satin material, in a backhand motion, I tear them from your privates.

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Smooth, glistening, wet… just like the satin that was covering your puss just a moment ago.

Your head lulls from one side to the other and I hear a *whimper*

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[a shudder moves through me]

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How could she have known exactly what I wanted to hear?

[examining the toys you found]

A vibrating dildo, a vibrating butt plug and a large leather plug gag.

“Excellent selection… I love a gal that knows what she likes.”

Taking the gag, I lean close to you, my fingers gently trace the outline of your lips. Though still quite unconscious, they seem to “purse” a bit, as if you were dreaming of some Prince Charming giving a kiss to wake his Sleeping Beauty.

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Instead, your lips are met with the large leather plug gag.

As I push it into your mouth, I swear you voluntarily opened wider for me. Maybe you were used to having large things fill that precious mouth

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that warm, inviting place.

Cradling your head in my hand, I pass the leather straps behind, mindful of your hair, and buckle the gag securely.

[now eyeing the “toys”]

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the butt plug is next.

I put my hand between your knees, then lift your right leg a bit, pulling and lifting it towards me, giving me access to your cooch. I touch the wet lips of your puss, using the tip of the plug to rub and smear your juices from front to back.

Just your position, lying on your back, has managed to cause the fluids flowing from you to work their way towards your backside.

Hardly any effort at all is needed to ease the plug up into your moist snatch, your body has lubricated it nicely for me.

[your head turns, and I hear *whimpers* through the gag]

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[shiver]

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“The gag even makes your whimpers sound more sexy. Fascinating.”

I withdraw the plug from you puss, looking at it, warm, wet, slick from your juices.

I close my eyes and inhale, bringing it to my lips.

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The smell is as delicious as the taste…

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Familiar,

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faintly familiar,

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sweet

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The moment… stretched for I don’t know how many seconds

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heaven… pure heaven.

I open my eyes slowly, then place the plug at its final destination, pressing it firmly between your cheeks.

I push a bit more, then crack a smile as I feel your muscles clench down.

“Oh, sweet girl, there is nothing you have that I cannot take… nothing you can resist me.”

In one fluid motion, the butt plug is pushed inside of you, filling your bumm. You emit a moan, muffled through the gag… probably the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard.

[throb]

Your puss now longs for more attention, relaxed from the brief attention from the butt plug, relaxed and wet

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ready for something else.

I lower your leg back to the mattress, knee bent, thigh at probably a 45 degree angle to the other. The dildo is somewhat flexible, a little large, but I know you’re up to the task.

Gently, I probe you with it.

It explores your lips and folds, becoming more slick each time it traces the path from your clit to where the butt plug is nestled.

My other hand rests just below your belly button, right where the front of the garter belt passes.

[smiling… enjoying the simultaneous feel of satin and your skin]

Without any conscious thought, my thumb begins to trace small circles around your clit, trying to avoid direct contact, but bumping against it “incidentally” as it continues to go round and round,

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continuing to bump against it as the dildo begins to slip inside of you… just a bit.

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Then back out

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More bumping of the clit… in fact, it’s pretty much escalated into rubbing,

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Definitely done… intentionally

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deliberately,

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purposefully.

The dildo sinks into your puss,

It’s hypnotizing to watch as it slides so deeply into you, then out, then back in.

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a “money shot” Definitely.

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“Where the heck is my cell phone camera?”

I push the dildo one last time, up inside of you, feeling it press against your cervix, filling you completely.

Holding it in place, I twist the bases of both “toys,” turning them on.

The humming is audible and I can feel the coursing through your body as I reposition your legs together.

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Thighs together…

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knees together…

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ankles together.

Tightly together to help keep these “toys” right where I put them.

I lean down to your ankles, pick up the black satin panties that had been torn from you earlier.

They are cool now… soaked… sweet.

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Using your torn satin panties, I wrap them around your ankles, then cinch them together tightly.

Your toes wiggle a bit, possibly from a dream, possibly from the sensations from the vibrators whirring away inside of you, maybe some of both.

Kneeling beside you, I’m in awe.

Somehow, the features and contours of your face have been made more beautiful by the large gag now held in your mouth,

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how your mouth is opened so wide.

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Beautiful.

The black rectangular leather panel of the large leather plug gag covers your mouth and pouty, red lips. I hear more moans and muffled *whimpers* coming from you now. Your eyes have begun to flutter occasionally.

Again, maybe it’s the sensations from the vibrators inside of you,

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maybe it’s just you stirring to consciousness.

The black leather gag compliments the black satin bra, garter belt and stockings quite nicely. I couldn’t have selected a more perfect outfit for you… not even if I had scripted this whole encounter.

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Its like we were made to collide, you and I.

Thinking of your breasts in the black satin causes my hand to involuntarily reach for them. I gently cup your left breast, sliding my hand gently around the satin barrier between us. I can feel your nipple beneath the layer of slick, black material. My finger tips pinch lightly, getting mostly satin,

then again… with more pressure

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then again… with still more pressure,

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*Success*

[another muffled *whimper*]

I tweak your nipple beneath the satin, holding it firmly between my thumb and the side of my index finger. Slightly twisting, then tugging a bit, pulling, adjusting my grip… tugging more, like I am trying to pull you closer…

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wondering if you were awake, would arch your back and move your breast closer to me to ease the tugs so as not to stretch your nipple so…

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or would you try to squirm away from me, resulting in a tougher “tug?”

I release your nip, then rub it a bit, then pat it gently like a child’s head, before tucking ‘em into bed.

I place both arms by your sides, then stand up, enjoying the view as I tower over your body. The sounds of the vibrators almost drown out the occasional whimpers and moans that make it past your gag. A smile snakes across my face as I lean over and touch the mattress that's leaning against the wall... then tip it over and lower it gently on top of you.

Sandwiched between the two soft pillow mattresses,

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Nestled in a warm and comfy place, I imagine you’re still smiling.

There is a subtle bulge in the middle of the mattress, but for the most part, nothing suspicious at all. Gravity pulls the outer edges of the top mattress down so that they are resting flat against the bottom mattress. Looking like a sandwich with nothing on it.

With just a bit of twine, I tie the handles on the sides of the top mattress to the handles on the sides of the bottom mattress, cinching them together even tighter. The vibrators are still audible, but just barely.

There is another sound now probably much louder than the prior moans and whimpers…

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but muffled… definitely muffled.

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Through the gag…

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through the mattress…

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those might be screams.

I have to hold my breath and close my eyes to hear them.

Maybe they’re cries of pleasure… maybe

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[a smile sneaks across my face as I feel her approach me]

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“Master, Why were you so gentle with her?”

She comes into my peripheral vision, covered head to toe in a black latex catsuit, the only openings were for her eyes, nose and mouth… definitely for her mouth.

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Without even looking over my shoulder, I reply…

“Because she wanted it rough, my pet… because she wanted it rough.”

“Come here, let me have a look at you.”

My rubber-clad “doll” teeters towards me on new heels, the very shoes our latest guest had so generously… contributed. I notice them and raise an eyebrow.

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“You know… she’ll be wanting those back… eventually.”

My pet slinks onto the stacked mattresses, her smile noticeably bigger as she positions herself right in the center of the mattresses, right above my latest… “catch” giggling because the vibrations of the mattress beneath tickle her.

“I’m horny” she says, parting her latex coated thighs to reveal that the crotch of her outfit had no openings, only 2 rubber “sleeves”… each seven or so inches in length that she had already tucked up into her undoubtedly sopping wet “lovelies.”

She giggles as she fingers and probes her rubberized openings… rubber on rubber. The “squeaking” sounds she utters are almost indistinguishable from the “squeaking” of the rubber contacting rubber, making playing with herself blend wonderfully with the humming of the vibrators and muffled cries… probably of passion [*smiles*]
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"You have my permission to continue pleasuring yourself… because you were going to ask, right?”

[raising an eyebrow at her]

My pet hungrily deep-throats her rubber-coated fingers, wetting them thoroughly in her mouth, then inserting them greedily into both of her other two latex-lined openings.

Occasionally, the mattress beneath my pet “bucks” a bit… that seems to make her masturbate more feverishly. I can’t help but smile as I hear my pet giggle and squeak.

I head to the study and take a seat in front of my computer, knowing she’ll busy herself for hours in there until she nods off. I’m sure the latest “catch” won’t mind the company.

I login to check my yahoo mail.

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[>>: "FateTrain, you have another message from WildKitty%*+\?@yahoo.com"<<] I reply to her email, sending the familiar story about me being new to the whole Domme/subbie “lifestyle,” being timid and whatnot

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[it’s like fresh blood… they are drawn to it… and cannot help themselves.]

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[cannot deny their predatory nature, their predatory… “need”]

I make comments about my family being out of town for a while, being home alone and wanting so desperately to experience something mind-blowing, you know, something “kinky”… before I lose my nerve and/or my family returns from their trip and it’s back to “Vanillaville.”

This latest one has wanted to make contact, but clearly doesn’t want to move too quickly, not wanting to scare me away or freak me out.

Yes… I’ve been so shy, saying I’m afraid to take the next step, not wanting to meet in person… not waning to share much in the way of “personal information.”

I then click "send," on the message, knowing full well that the signature block on THIS email contains my full name and street address, even though the body of the message says I am too afraid to disclose it… but how I “wish” that I could.

How would she interpret this “slip-up?” Most likely, in the same way as those that came before her…. as a sloppy mistake from someone she imagines is a soon-to-be-web-subbie that needed to be “taught a lesson” about this or that.

Dommes… they have that ability to zone in on what you want from them, what you want for yourself.

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They pay attention to detail, look for patterns, look for weaknesses.

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Predators they are… God Damn wolves… or Fucking Wildcats… lovely, beautiful… but predatory animals nonetheless. So much more delicious to trap than the typical game… especially this latest one, yes… delicious alright. Abso-fuckin-lutely.

I then call the moving company, telling Juan that there are a couple of mattresses he can haul away and sell to the highest bidder… but if he doesn't come to collect them until Saturday morning, then there will probably be a couple more to collect.

Sin.

DC

contribution from candy

Reflections from Subspace

[A daydream contribution by candy]

I don’t know how much, if any of this will make sense to you, as it has taken me years to make sense of the confusion that was my life for so, so long. Thinking back to what was 12yrs ago last August, I married DC after knowing him while growing up. We didn’t really date, you know... like most couples do... it was just, well... like we met as youngsters and were always in each others lives… in some shape, form or fashion, but we were always “connected”... always. I just knew we were meant to be together forever. He asked me to marry him out of the blue and I eagerly accepted his proposal.

Now, I was a bit of wild-child growing up and He had been what my parents had warned me was a “fast mover.” I was no virgin, but I had never lived with a boyfriend nor had any wild and crazy years where my libido was in overdrive, making me want to hump every fella that came along. In college, I had some other girl friends that were big into partying and sleeping around, but, for whatever reason, I had not been blessed with the uncanny ability to have multiple orgasms at the drop of a hat, not back then. In fact, quite the opposite was true.

Based upon my conversations with my college sorority roomies, and their vivid descriptions of their numerous and sometimes bizarre sexcapades, it became blatantly obvious to me that I had never had an orgasm. Intercourse felt good, but it honestly was not something I needed, it just didn’t make me react and respond like it seemed to do for my friends or college boyfriend(s). Maybe I had some sort of chemical imbalance back then, maybe I was lost and struggling to find my path, but when I inherited my fortune from my late grandfather, I found myself pushed me over the edge into a downward spiral of “directionlessness” if there is such a word. My inheritance meant I didn’t need to complete my education and certainly never needed to work a day in my life, but this financial freedom did little to liberate my spirits or give me focus. In fact, without my parents pushing me to obtain an education and become some career-minded drone, I was even more lost and without direction. But all of that changed when DC made me his wife and I found my true purpose... my true calling in life... to be the perfect “pleasure pet” of a wife.

Well, now that I was newly married, having a husband to fondle and enjoy me every night was new and (ahem) “different” to say the least, but hell... I didn’t have any sort of real frame of reference to compare DC to, right? All my other short-term relationships had been doomed to failure and there was no real commitment, certainly nothing as grandiose as marriage. Anyways, being bound and determined not to fail at my wifely duties, I accepted his affection in whatever way, shape or form He delivered it to me. “Anything He wants” was to be my mantra.

On our honeymoon, I was tipsy with champagne as we left the reception and headed to our hotel suite. I was so in love, I wanted to seduce him right there in the car. As He drove, I pulled my dress up a bit and began fidgeting beneath it, tying to unfasten my garter from my pearly white bridal stockings. DC… without ever looking from the road, asked me in a voice I hadn’t heard from him before, deep and guttural

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“What are you doing, my pet.”

I wanted to blow his mind, so I told him I was going to take off my stockings because I didn’t want anything… not even some thin, sheer nylon, to be between us when we made love together tonight, for the first time.

He took his eyes from the road for a moment and locked them onto me… kept them locked to mine for a long moment, but somehow the car never crept from our lane. He asked me in that same deep and deadly serious voice “That’s something you want, yes?”

I nodded my head emphatically and continued reaching beneath my dress to slip out of my hosiery, then He simply stated

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“Then that is why you’ll keep them on.”

I froze, completely puzzled, searching his eyes for some inkling that He was kidding… but there was none. I looked away, then saw that his gaze returned to the road.

He wanted me to wear pearly white stockings that I’d worn during the ceremony, to bed? I hadn’t figured him for a leg or hosiery kind of fetish fella… I mean, I’d heard of such things, but it didn’t fit. It wasn’t clear to me for quite sometime that it was the “denying me things I wanted” that motivated him, not me simply wearing what He told me to. I was a little embarrassed, not so much for him wanting me to wear the hosiery to bed, but for being so aroused that He spoke to me in that way, ordering me to do something. I had never had anyone talk to me like that and I was afraid that I liked it… too much.

I our hotel’s honeymoon suite master bathroom, I undressed in front of the mirror, eyeing my body’s curves and lines… knowing His eyes and hands would be upon me soon. I knew He would be pleased… not because of my mere physical appearance, but because I was His.

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Totally, utterly, completely, absolutely His to enjoy.

Wearing the thigh-highs, looking at myself in the mirror, the white nylon sort of gave me a “slutty angel” look. I giggled, enjoying the prospect of being slutty for Him. I rationalized to myself that maybe this kind of little kink was common amongst lovers in the “real world” and I didn’t want to seem weirdly naïve and sheltered, nor a prude, so I threw caution to the wind and, feeling a little tingly inside, and pretty giddy too, I decided, “Anything He wants.”

Our lovemaking was intense… that’s the best way to describe it. I don’t know that we spoke at all for hours. Why speak when there are soooo many other ways to express your feelings, your commitment, your devotion?

We fucked like animals and He felt me from the inside. I orgasmed my first time, then a second time we came together… his eyes looked into mine and his hands held my face so I couldn’t look away as be both spasmed together. I had never seen or felt anything like it before… like it was a promise that we made in that stretched instant, like we saw each others souls and shared something, gave the most important part of ourselves to the other to carry and nurture.

Yes… I kept the stockings on. DC introduced me to anal sex, I kept the stockings on. DC put his cock in my mouth, I kept the stockings on, DC came on my face and in my hair (dammit), I kept the stockings on. In the morning, after waking up in the sticky, wet spot, I went to potty, then to shower, but DC walked in on me and insisted I not undress... so I kept the stockings on. I was surprised and puzzled by his apparent fascination with me in my hosiery, but it was attention and affection, pure and sincere, his love for me… unconditional… so I convinced myself it wasn’t anything too deviant and reminded myself, “Anything He wants.”

In the months following our wedding and honeymoon, there was a constant and ever-growing presence of... what I will call “kinky” elements to DC’s nightly sexual routine with me. The stocking episode on our honeymoon slowly, but steadily progressed to me wearing thigh highs beneath my clothes during the day, it was like hours and hours of foreplay… even while we were apart, then… when He returned home in the evening, He would undress me, removing everything except for the hosiery I was now required to wear for Him, and eagerly touch and caress my legs and feet... rubbing everything from his tongue to his cock on them. The material between us… the thin barrier, made me crave to feel his body upon my bare skin. Made me burn for his flesh to melt against mine. The hosiery between us was a wicked little sort of sensory deprivation that addicted me to His touch, even if it was through hosiery.

I’d heard the term “hand job” before, and knew what playing “footsie” was, but within 6 months of our marriage, I was eagerly getting pantyhosed “foot-fucks”, sliding his erect cock against the soles of my nylon-coated feet, My feet worked Him tirelessly… all the while I was masturbating for Him, then when we came together. We had unlocked the keys to my orgasms, I was a lucky woman. He would cum on my tootsies while I wiggled and curled them in the hosiery during my orgasms, of course. At the time, I certainly did not know what a fetish was, and, while it didn’t feel quite “normal,” to me at first, there was nothing inherently wrong or bad about what He had me doing. He purchased the finest hosiery for me, silk stockings, Wolford pantyhose, I had a Victoria’s Secret platinum card and was not afraid to use it. “Anything He wants.”

I didn’t even raise an eyebrow when He requested me slide on a pair of silk stockings over my Wolford pantyhose... guys think more is better, right? I’m a good girl and follow orders well. Night after night, the layers of hosiery got thicker and thicker... and then it wasn’t just pantyhose, but we progressed to body stockings. “Anything He wants.”

He kept me covered in hosiery for Him… arms and legs, hands and feet, beneath it all… I was on fire for Him. It became more and more difficult for me to feel him against me. I was obsessed with him, enthusiastically stroking him, begging him to remove my gag so I could feel him in my mouth, begging him to allow me to feel Him inside of me, skin in skin. I learned to focus intently, when He touched me, but it was now taking considerable effort to achieve orgasms, due to the decreased sensation from the layers of nylon, but we did it… He was patient with me and, though I was often sore, the little bit of sensation He allowed me beneath those layers was always more than enough to send me over the edge… eventually, sometimes hours of manipulation, but the rewards were sweet… and DC loves sweet candy… of that there is no doubt. He was turning me into His pantyhose-encased plaything and I was wildly aroused by being so used, so pleasured, so loved. “Anything He wants.”

After being married for 1 year, He had me wearing body stockings in our home during the day, so I pretty much no longer left our estate while dressed like that all day. Soon, He began requesting that I pull several pairs of stockings over my head and run up to the bedroom when I heard His convertible returning to the garage at night. Sure I figured I looked like a cat burglar... but “anything He wants,” right?

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Within a short time, DC discovered various internet sites that made custom-fitted full-body stockings. These had attached hoods, some with eye holes, most without out, some with a mouth hole, some with crotch zippers. I suppose He spent a small fortune on me... maybe He had invested in spandex... I don’t know, but trapped beneath those layers and layers of thick, slick lycra, my body was insatiable and, the more lost I became in my total encasement, the more and more time I spent touching and rubbing myself… desperate for Him to return home and help finish me off. I was the perfect wife. I spent hours caressing, petting and massaging myself, waiting for him. I was His perfect lover and we were the perfect couple.

I’ll be honest with you, I had difficulty dressing appropriately for DC, as trying to slip into more than a dozen skin tight body stockings is no easy task. As the layers build, I can barely hear, I am blind as a bat and unable to feel much with my clumsy nylon-coated fingers to even operate the zippers to get in or out of my 2^nd through 12^th skin. Not wanting to disappoint my soul mate by him coming home some evening and me not being dressed appropriately for Him, I voiced as much to DC and, His remedy was simple, He dressed me.

The following morning, he bathed me in a milk and honey bath, washed my hair, brushed and dried it, giving attention to every bit of me from head to toe… I felt shy being naked in front of him, it was like too much of a good thing… sensory overload. I needed him to dress me, encase me in those bodystockings, embrace me with the lycra from head to toe… completely… absolutely. It was nice to be so pampered, to have my loving husband dote over me those mornings, ensuring I was exactly as He wanted me to be. “Anything He wants.”

The first layer of body stockings was a custom suit that had a puffy stuffed plug that goes into my mouth like a spandex cock gag. Then, DC put me in so many layers I literally lost count! Our daily ritual was for him let me enjoy myself all day long, then He would come home and enjoy me. It was that simple… that pure. “Anything He wants.”

Well, DC began to encase me so heavily that I was barely able to move from the bed all day long, to get a drink, remove some layers for fresh air or even eat. The sensation when I touched myself was so slight, that though I tried all day… I was unable to orgasm at all. I was officially flustered and frustrated. When I felt DC return to bed that night, I tried to speak through my soaked gag and tell him, in muffled sobs, that I no longer wanted to be His lycra love doll, that I wanted to feel His skin against mine and for Him to free me immediately!

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THAT’S what I told him I wanted, what I wanted more than anything, to be free and unrestrained.

Silence was all I recall hearing, and for the first time with DC, I was afraid I was failing as a wife and that my selfish hang-ups with performing my wifely responsibilities was going to displease Him so much, that He may no longer want me.

I did not hear or see him move closer to me, but the silence was broken by him hissing into my ear

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“That’s something you want, yes?”

Beneath the lycra hood, my eyes blinked in their darkness, being taken all the way back to our honeymoon.

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I nodded my head instinctively, thinking I knew exactly what He would say next.

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Rather then hearing him speak, I felt Him push me back onto the bed… Hard. Rolling my helpless body over onto my tummy and pulling my wrists together roughly behind my back. I felt pressure on my wrist, pressure pulling or pushing them together tightly, then I felt my legs being grabbed violently. I slipped around on my tummy trying to wriggle away as I felt the same pressure around both of my ankles... felt them being cinched tightly together, then the same pressure around my knees.

Then silence… stillness.

I felt alone now, but wasn’t certain he had left me, wasn’t certain he had gone.

Face down on the bed, with great difficulty, I rolled over onto my back, listened intently, trying to hear any sign that He was still there… maybe watching me squirm and struggle. I tried to scoot over to edge of the bed and sit up.

Suddenly, DC was on me again and this time, after He flipped me back onto my tummy, He pulled my bound ankles up until I felt them contact my hands and He tightly secured my ankles to my wrists. I was hogtied and helpless and utterly disoriented, as DC had never touched me in any manner other than his customary soft, kind, gentle and caring caress.

Now, on the brink of hysteria and being so helpless and man-handled, deep in my tummy there began a tingling sensation, like a faint ember that barely glows, but flickers brighter when I exhale onto it. This ember seemed to kindle a heat in my crotch that I’d never felt before. Though my juices had been flowing earlier from my daily self-pleasure routine,” my pussy began to quiver and moisten and my juices began to soak through the layers of lycra, flowing again. With each squirm and wriggle, that ember began to pulse brighter and hotter, my puss continued to sizzle in it’s own juices! I was afraid I was about to loose control of myself, as I was distinctly aware of thick hot juices leaking from my nylon-covered cunt, but I couldn’t stop gyrating against my bonds. My eyes, having been beneath layers of lycra all day, were beginning to hallucinate, like I was dreaming while I was awake. I could see myself writhing on the bed while my husband looked on lovingly. “Anything He wants!”

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Oh... I was possessed! I could now just barely feel my husbands hands caressing my body through the thick layers of slick material, but I could fell the love and desire in His touch and, in my frenzied state, I committed myself then and there to be His bondage lycra love doll for ever and ever! Mmmm, the instant I came to the realization that I would most likely be bound in various bodystockings for the rest of my life, my pussy began to quiver and my body began to convulse! My breathing came is gasps through the soaked lycra dildo gag that had been stuffed in my mouth for more than 12hours, and my first bondage-induced orgasm poured into and through me like hot honey, filling every inch and spilling out of every orifice of my body, leaving me feeling thick and sticky from head to toe.

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My mind was reeling as my body went limp. I had visions of my body melting into a warm puddle of molasses, gallons of it, pooling on the center of the bed, atop the satin sheets, in a syrupy pile of nylon body stockings, just waiting to be wrung out and used again by Him… over and over… for ever and ever.

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[shudder]

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Mmmm, that was soooo many years ago, but I still remember it so clearly. As you may imagine, things escalated and evolved, as they should in a relationship. Oh, I still wear hosiery sometimes, but it is only a small part of our current repertoire. It’s amazing what you can get used to, what you can do for love... what you will do with a lover.

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Absolutely amazing!

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Grins and giggles, candy