© Copyright 2009 - Mumman - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/m; femdom; neoprene; suit; wrap; tape; bond; chair; hood; bfold; collar; tease; torment; cons; X
Part 3: Careful What you Wish for
He had given the word, given her permission and control. She had cautioned him, and he had thrown caution to the wind. He had been in completely immobilizing, sweaty mummification bondage in the armchair nearly 13 hours now, almost twice as long as he ever had been. He had reached new stages of endurance, exhaustion, relaxation, calmness, resignation, and now, insanity, he thought, having consented to let his surprising wife-mistress decide on when she’d allow his release.
Nice wife had offered the release, then challenged him to let his new “Mistress” take over if he declined to let her cut him out. This had never happened before, only in his fantasies. This was here-to-fore unexplored territory in their bondage relationship. Did she think he’d had enough and opt for release, or had she cleverly devised a scheme she knew he’d likely accede to, knowing his masochistic bondage predilections? Now it was a whole new bondage game, a whole new wife, taking on this role.
“OK Mumman! You've asked for it, but you really don't know what you're in for!” said Mistress-wife. “This could be fun!” Oh, yes she’s into it, he thought, this is her game now! She went downstairs. ‘What a crazy bondage freak I am! Now I’m excited again!’ His cock swelled. Time passed. What was she doing? He tried to squirm, squirming inside.
She came up. “OK Mumman! I’ve warmed up your roast chicken for you! It’s so good!” Was she going to remove his posture collar and hood and feed him? “I’ll set it on your lap so you can smell it real good! OK, enjoy!”
“Mmmmm” he said.
Downstairs she went. He was shocked. She was getting creative! The delicious aroma filled his nose and brain. He’d not eaten for over 24 hours! Only water for hydration before tightly sealing his head in the full leather hood and posture collar that morning. The intoxicating smell made him feel really hungry now. He salivated what little saliva he had left under the foam-rubber pad filling his leather-clamped, duct-taped mouth. Food torture! Right on his lap, and so far away! His gloved, stockinged and multiple sock-covered hands and arms, taped so tightly down on the armrests, strained in futility. No movement at all allowed. He breathed more heavily and moaned. His senses were over-whelmed. She’d served him dinner alright!
There he motionlessly sat with the delicious lemon-pepper roasted chicken right under his nose. His empty stomach grumbled and growled.. Maybe a half-hour later she came up. “Wasn’t that good?? I’ve brought some dessert! A warmed-up apple pie! Your favorite!” She removed the plate of chicken from his tightly-wrapped and belted lap and replaced it with the steamy pie. “Don’t say that I don’t take care of you! Enjoy, Mumman!” He groaned, and she was gone. Now the wonderful pie scent intoxicated him. reinforcing his hunger. He was getting high on apple pie! How about this woman ! he thought. He’d never seen this sadistic, teasing side of her.
He imagined he could taste the pie, imagined it going down his throat. More salivation, more stomach noises. What could she have in-store next?? What devious things were going through her mind? He flexed here and there as the time passed, a lot of time. Now he wasn’t his own prisoner, he was hers. He half-dozed and languished, feeling some discomfort. Not surprising, after how many hours? His feet ached in the tight, plastic-wrapped, tied-down 3 ½” heel leather boots. At least he didn’t have the 6” ones on, he thought. Be thankful for small things.
Finally Mistress-wife came up. “Mmmm!” he greeted her.
“Mmmm yourself, Mr. Mumman! Sorry, I was reading a book and fell asleep! Wasn’t that pie good?”
She took it from his lap.” I knew you’d be thirsty, so here’s a big bottle of Gatorade!” She put it on his lap, repeatedly thrusting it into his constricted crotch!
“Doesn’t that feel good??” She kept it up awhile, stimulating his cock. “A little bonus with your drink!” He moaned, ineffectually trying to buck his hips. She finally stopped, laying the bottle on his lap. He moaned and tried to ask what time it was. “What, no thanks? Well, Mummy-man, I don’t think you need to know the time!” Her tone was haughty, snotty. But he had unleashed this Mistress-within. She was a real role-player now. “The time is irrelevant to you now”, she said sternly. “You seem to be doing well, keeping your posture up.” Of course he had no choice. The posture collar was so high, tight and rigid, his shiny leather head was tilted back a bit. No nodding or shaking allowed. “Well, I’ll get back to my book! Enjoy your Gatorade!”
“MMM-mm!” he said. Alone in the darkness again. In spite of his tiredness and exhaustion, this session had excited his libido. He tried to rub his semi-stiff, smushed cock by moving his hips. No go, just tiny wiggles, he was anchored so firmly. The big bottle stayed on his lap. She was really enjoying tormenting him! What a trip! He eventually wound down and felt sleepy. He drifted inexorably toward bondage-sleep, incredulous he was still stuck there. This was a bondage fanatic’s dream, he thought, unbelievable. Is she falling asleep down there again? He nodded off without nodding in the slightest.
After some time she came up, yawning. He was semi-awake. She removed the Gatorade. “You should be all set now! I’ve given you chicken, pie, drink and a rub-job! What do you say?”
“OK. And never mind what time it is. I’m getting ready for bed.” She went over to the bathroom. He breathed tired, shallow breaths. How long can she keep me here? he wondered. How cruel can my new Mistress be? What’s on her mind? He focused on his breathing and relaxation.
She slapped a hand on his tape-covered shoulder, startling him. “It’s been a long day, I had a lot of massages, I’ve dealt with you, it’s late, I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed now, dea-, I mean, Mumman , and I don’t want you waking me up! You seem OK, and you gave me, your Mistress , the decision-making power! Again, you have no say about this! You stay here, I go to bed! No complaints! As I said earlier, think carefully, you may be sorry! Don’t even think about waking me up! You are a prisoner of your own device!” She kissed the black leather second-skin on his head. “You have a good sleep, or try to! And let me have a good sleep! Goodnight!”
“MMMM! MMMMMH!” he said.
“MMM-HMMMM!”, she said, and turned away. Oh my god! he thought. She was not letting up! What the hell time was it?? Now she even denied him that little courtesy. She seemed to be really pissed at him. Could she really be sentencing him to overnight?? The whole upstairs was their master-suite. He was at the back, the bed toward the front around the corner. He heard the volume increase on the surf-sounds machine through his ear-plugged, leather-padded ears. What the hell have I let myself in for?! he thinks. She has pronounced his sentence in no uncertain terms! How the hell can I stay like this overnight?? My circulation’s OK, but this all so fucking tight!!
He breathes hard and fast. He flexes and tries to wiggle to release tension, making small moaning sounds before beginning to calm down, slowing his breathing through the hood’s small nose grommets. He was experiencing soreness here and there, nothing too serious. Was she going to keep him trapped for 24 hours?? Was she trying to teach him a lesson?? What a test this would be—already was!! This was just unbelievable! He’d read and fantasized about super long-term bondage, and here was the reality! He hadn’t bargained for this, but had invited this possibility by giving her control! Again, he thought what a crazy bondage freak he was. She was giving the bondage junkie an overdose!
‘It’s really not up to me anymore! I’m just a prisoner here, indeed, of my own device! This is so extreme! Wife-Mistress is really tough!! She warned me!! This will be the longest, toughest night!! Talk about an ultimate test!!’ He worked at reconciling himself to this surprising new realm. ‘I’m in good health, great shape! I’ll be OK! What’s a few more hours? The longest part is behind me! Settle down, settle in! A long day’s journey into night, a long night’s journey into day!!’
He knows he will get some sleep out of sheer exhaustion and tiredness. He simply had to endure, come to grips, buckle down (ha!)! ‘I’ll pretend I’m all alone in the house again! That way I can deal with this!’ He began using his familiar calming and relaxing techniques to regulate his mind and body. He sought to breathe with the patterns of the sound machine. He fell back into exhausted relaxation and resignation. He drifted along the borders of consciousness for a long time, finally falling over to the other side. Blessed escape.
He had a dream of being completely mummified in plaster casting, a living statue on exhibit at an art gallery. The thick white casting is smoothed to a beautiful finish, encasing him from head to feet. Inside, he can’t move a muscle, speak, see or hear. Very tight , but comfortable. He’d been on display for many hours, duration unknown. Comfortably warm and rigid, he swoons contentedly, excitedly, inescapably, breathing through 2 small nose holes. The patrons marvel at the statue-man, some in envy. Finally, it is closing time, but he doesn’t know it. Totally sensory-deprived, he knows nothing but the darkness, complete immobility, and his thoughts. People leave. Everybody is leaving, everybody , as the lights go out and the doors are locked, leaving him, and him alone! Hours go by and he wonders how long it’s been, how long can this go on?? Am I forgotten?? He starts making nasal vocalizations, his mouth sealed. He gets louder and louder. What is going on?? He is eventually screaming through his nose, echoing through the large, dark, empty gallery. He realizes he’s been forgotten, abandoned!! Panicked, he tries to move, standing positioned in a comfortable pose, and of course he can’t, not one iota! He tries to rock the pedestal-base he’s anchored to, but he and the sturdy base are one. No wiggles whatsoever. All-enveloping tightness, darkness, and rock-solid rigidity. He is fucked for the night!! He has to accept his statue-mummification as the night goes on, and on, and on…
Dreams merged with reality as he drifted back into consciousness. Waking up in total bondage immobilization was a strange experience. It would sometimes take a moment to realize that he still could not move, see, speak. Momentary confusion and disorientation. Still stuck! He felt relaxed enough and comfortable enough, remarkably. He again felt the sense of calmness, acceptance and resignation to his fate. He was still utterly amazed that he could endure this, that he was still in this position, that his wife-mistress was keeping him here! Now he once again reveled in the head-to-toe constricting bondage, flexing here and there. The art of doing nothing, of just being, he thought. No other options. Only his mind and the unrelenting bondage to stimulate end occupy him. How many people could go this long?? Just being, no doing. His mind went sort of blank, into a tired bondage meditational haze. He lingered this way for a long time before finally falling back into a light sleep.
Her hand on his shoulder gave him a start. “Mumman, it’s your mistress.”
“Mmmmmmh!” Was it over at last?
“I just got up to pee, and to check on you. Never mind what time it is. You look very relaxed and OK.” Her tone was quiet, tired.
She patted his head. “You’ve been a good boy to let me sleep all this time! You deserve a little reward!”
“Mmmh?” She took the scissors and began cutting the black tape off the back of his posture collar and suit collar around to the front. Yes!! She undid the Velcro closure of the suit and unzipped it a little. Then she unbuckled the big leather collar that had been anchored tightly inside the suit’s collar and removed it. He moaned as he slowly moved his stiff neck around for the first time in hours and hours. She unzipped the thick leather hood at the back to get at the tight lacing. Little by little it lost its super-tight grip on his face, head and neck, and she worked it off. What a relief!! Air! He had to shut his eyes to the light and squint to adjust. Light at last! He looked out the window. Still dark. She gently peeled the duct-tape strips off his mouth and pulled out the tongue-depressing foam-rubber pad, trailing some saliva. He slowly worked his mouth and jaw, head and neck.
“Well, Mumman, you’re quite a sight! Isn’t it nice to see me, and be able to talk?”
“Yes” he croaked.
“Now please don’t say anything unless you’re responding to my questions, OK?”
He looked at her tiredly. “OK, Mistress.”
“Very good. Now here’s your Gatorade.” She put it to his dry mouth and he drank greedily, dribbling on himself. She put a towel on his chest and let him drink for along time until he signaled done. She wiped his mouth and chin. “See, I’m a nice Mistress!”
He wryly smiled. “Yes, Mistress.” His body finally had some nourishment!
“Now here’s your next reward. You probably would like to piss, so I’ll cut you out!” Al- right! She began cutting the solidly-wrapped tape off his torso and arms, then the plastic stretch-wrap off his feet, legs and lap. She untied his ankles and heels from the chair. She pulled the sweaty tube socks, stockings and rubber gloves off of his arms, then he could undo the 3 belts from his waist area, fastened so tightly around the back of the chair, and the 8 belts constraining his legs. He slowly moved his stiff, achy joints. Mobility at last! He unzipped and removed the boots and gingerly got up to slowly make his way to the bathroom. He looked at the clock. It was a little past 5 AM! 21 hours in total chair mummification bondage!! He had tripled his previous endurance record!! Boy was he sore, but felt pretty good! The Gatorade coursed through his belly.
He unzipped and peeled off the heavy, wet wetsuit, then the sweaty undergarments as he felt a chill, sitting on the toilet to tinkle. Pee at last! As he sat there, so happy to be finally free, she came in. He started to say something but she held up her hand. “I’m still your Mistress for as long as I wish, Mr. Mumman!” She was keeping it up! “We’re not done, not by a long shot!”
“But nothing! I’ve taught you a little lesson, but we’re still operating by my rules! Now hurry up there, then take a shower! You stink! I have a nice surprise for you!”
With an evil smirk she pulled her hand from behind her back, holding up a disposable diaper. He was in shock and disbelief.
“After you’re clean, put this on, then your other wetsuit I’ve laid out! I’m gonna get you fixed up real good for bed!”
The game played on! “What do you say, Mr. Mumman?”
He was starting to tingle with excitement. “Whatever you say, Mistress.”