© Copyright 2011 - Jo - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/f; solo-f; wrap; tape; gag; insert; toys; mast; frottage; climax; video; cons; X
"What do you want for your birthday?"
"You - all wrapped up. Shit! I shouldn't have said that."
I raised my glass. "In vino veritas. But I thought we had an agreement"
"That's not what I meant."
Which was a lie. The deal is that she could stay out of the closet and do what lesbians do as long as she didn't hit on me.
"Oh hell. What I'd like to do is wrap you up like a mummy."
"Haven't you figured it out yet?"
"Figured what out."
Rachel gestured towards her desk. "Haven't you checked out my books?"
"There are books there? Where?"
"Ha ha. You know obsessive neatness is a disease."
"I'm not obsessive and, no, I didn't look at your books."
"Jeez. So much for being subtle. Look, I'm not only gay, I'm into kink."
"You mean like whips and chains."
"If I answer yes, you'll get the wrong idea. If I answer no, you'll get the wrong idea. Kink runs the gamut from the vanilla couple with a pair of fuzzy handcuffs in the nightstand to folks with real dungeons and, yes, whips and chains. I'm more of a fuzzy handcuffs type than a whips and chains type, but I've been there, too."
"So this wrapping me up is something kinky, like some kind of bondage?"
"Exactly. Listen, Tina, I just -"
"Sure. You can turn me into a mummy if that's what you want."
"If you don't you'll go crazy."
"And what does that mean?"
"Oh, please. This past week you've been like a cat in heat. You may as well wear a sign that says Please Fuck Me."
I held out my glass and Rachel splashed more wine into it.
"It was the wrapping thing at the spa, wasn't it?"
Our birthdays are a week apart and for mine Rachel took me to a spa. Although, given the fact we spent the entire day nude, it was probably as much a gift for her as me. One of the things they did was give us a massage, slather us head to toe in green goop, then wrap us in layers of sheets.
"Yeah. Yeah. Having you like that only a couple of feet away and I couldn't touch you and I couldn't touch myself, which made me crazy."
"Yeah, well, if it'll help you get it out of your system, okay. But no touching, kissing, and no sex."
"That's the agreement."
We clinked glasses.
"Is this stuff going to take my skin with it when it comes off?"
"Nope. It's not like duct tape. This tape is made specifically for this. I mean, it sticks well enough, but not that well. It sticks to itself better than it sticks to skin."
I ripped off a piece and pressed it to my hand, peeled it off.
"Okay, so what do I do."
"Well. I want this to be like a real scene, so I want you to get naked, kneel down and ask me to please wrap you - and call me Mistress."
In for a penny, in for a pound.
I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my jeans, pulled my panties down, and tugged my socks off. I unbuttoned my blouse and shrugged it off, reached behind me and added my bra to the pile. I knelt.
"Mistress, would you please wrap me up like a mummy?"
Rachel didn't say anything for a full minute and then, finally, "Stand up slave."
She picked up a roll of tape, took my right hand and wrapped it. She took several turns, pressing the tape to me with each wrap. Then she wound her way up my arm, all the way up to my arm pit. She repeated the process on my left arm.
"Cross your arms over your chest."
I crossed them.
"When I speak to you, you answer me, slave."
She grabbed more tape, pressed it to my hands, peeled off a length and worked her way across my chest, around my arms and back. She took her time, obviously savoring the experience, but soon I was wrapped from shoulders to hips.
Rachel peeled off strips of tape and pressed them cross-wise over my shoulders then gently around my neck. And then, too fast for it to register until too late, she peeled a strip of tape and pressed it to my mouth.
"Mummies should be seen and not heard."
I scowled at her, but she just arched an eyebrow and smiled. She gave my tape sealed lips a quick kiss.
Squatting, she nudged my legs open and I flushed with embarrassment. Her face was inches from my bush. She wrapped tape around my right thigh, her fingers brushed my hair. Again she was very thorough, working very slowly, smoothing the tape as she went until my leg was covered from my crotch to my ankle. She then wrapped my left leg.
Rachel stood, stepped over to her closet, and retrieved a gym bag. From it she pulled a black object. It was a shaft of some sort with a knob at the end. I looked like rubber. She grabbed a hose with a rubber bulb and screwed it into the base of the shaft. She dribbled a bit of goo on the tip of the shaft, squatted, and nudged my legs further apart.
It wasn't until she touched the shaft to my labia that I realized what was about to happen. I mmf'd and shook my head, tried to close my legs, but she'd wedged herself between my knees.
This was NOT part of the deal and certainly went against our agreement! There was going to be hell to pay when I got free, which filled me with a sense of helplessness. If I was to get free, she'd be the one to do it and, until then, she could do whatever she wanted. I gave her my best evil look. She didn't see it as she was busy between my legs.
The goo must have been some kind of lubricant because the shaft slid into me with ease. I kept trying to say no and shook my head, but she ignored me, pushing the shaft in until the knob was wedged under my hood, rubbing on my clit. She squeezed the bulb.
The thing inside me grew. With every squeeze, the pressure built inside of me until I felt like I'd been stuffed with a grapefruit. It couldn't have been that big, of course, but it sure felt that way.
Rachel tugged on the shaft, wiggled it around a bit, gave the bulb a couple of more squeezes, and unscrewed the hose.
With one last tug she said, "There. That's not going anywhere. I'm going to enjoy you when you're all wrapped up and I wanted you to have some fun, too."
I tried the evil look again, but she ignored it.
She took another roll of tape and began to wrap my ankles together. Again working slowly, she made her way up my legs, over my hips and around my waist. She wrapped the tape up to my shoulders and back down to my ankles.
By now I had at least three, maybe four layers of tape on me and the feeling of helplessness grew. Rachel ran her hands over my tape-encased body. She purred.
"I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I've broken our agreement."
I scowled and nodded.
"But I'm not touching you, now am I?"
She pressed her mouth to my tape-sealed lips.
"And I'm not kissing you, hmm?"
She opened her legs and rubbed her pussy against my hip. She stroked the tape covering my crotch.
"And this isn't sex, is it?"
She got me. All the anger evaporated in a flash. Yeah, she got me. She was following our agreement to the letter. I had to smile.
She kissed me again.
"Almost there, slave."
Almost? I was wrapped from neck to ankles. What now?
What now turned out to be ear plugs, a piece of gauze over my nose, and a complete head wrapping - around and over and around some more until just the gauze over my nostrils was uncovered. The only thing not wrapped was my feet. And no sooner had the thought entered my mind than she eased me down onto the bed and taped them. She applied several wraps, working her way up to my knees each time. She eased my legs up onto the bed.
Then ... nothing.
I lay there wondering what would happen now. I tested my bonds. There was no give anywhere except the slightest bit on my neck. I could move my head just a fraction of an inch. Otherwise, I wasn't no longer a girl in bondage, I was an object, one thing all of a piece. It was the oddest sensation. The feelings of helplessness had faded, or more accurately been replaced by a feeling or sensation that I find impossible to describe other than to say I was an object and there was a feeling of objectness.
After what had to be several minutes, the bed shifted and I could feel Rachel press herself to me. She fondled me for a long while, although I had no sense of touch left. All I could feel was the pressure of her hands as she squeezed me. She crawled on top of me, rubbed herself against me. She began a rhythm, grinding her hips to mine. This went on for several minutes, then there was a shuddering jerk, and another. She was using me like a huge sex toy. And the feelings of objectness intensified.
My world exploded! The thing in my pussy burst to life. A shriek echoed in my skull - followed by another. The little knob buzzing against my clit sent me out of my mind. My world, my universe was in my clit. It wasn't pain and it sure wasn't pleasure. I was like nails on a chalkboard, the kind of thing that goes right to your core, except this wasn't a sound, it was sensation, like an electric shock arcing through my clit. The shrieking voice in my head screamed, "No! Make it stop!" But it didn't stop. Not when I came so hard I fainted. Not when I woke up and came again, and again, and again.
"You taped it!?"
I was sitting at Rachel's desk. She had her PC open and on the screen was a naked me asking to be wrapped. The feelings came flooding back and, speaking of flood, my pussy became instantly and uncomfortably wet. I ooched around on the chair.
"How did you tape it?" My voice shaky.
"My messy desk. The camcorder was tucked under some papers. Just because I'm a slob doesn't mean I don't have a method to my madness."
I watched her wrap me, watched her push the shaft up into me and wrap me some more. When she'd finished she put the things away and left the scene. When she came back she was naked. She climbed onto the bed and snuggled up against me, fondled me, climbed on top of me, rubbed herself against me and came. She came a few times. Then my body spasmed. Even gagged, the scream echoed in the room. There were minutes of noise and squirming, spasms, then silence. Rachel continued to rub herself against me. I resisted the urge to touch myself, but just barely.
She clicked the scroll bar and slid it to the right. The clock advanced a half hour. God!
After one last shrieking spasm, Rachel picked up what looked like a car remote, pressed it. She rolled off of me, turned on her side, and draped an arm and a leg over me. I didn't remember that. Didn't remember anything until I felt her tugging on the tape, cutting it open, peeling it off. When she'd finished, she wiped me down with a wet cloth and dried me. She pulled the covers up and over me, stepped over to the camera - the screen went blank.
Rachel hugged me, kissed the top of my head. "That was fantastic! Thank you, thank you, thank you."
I stated to say, "my pleasure," but I caught myself. It was the truth and I wasn't quite ready to go there just yet.
"Your welcome, Sweetie, happy birthday."
"Are you coming?"
It was 3:30. The match was at 4:00. Rachel isn't a soccer fan, but she is a fan of buff women getting all sweaty.
"Nah, I've got to study for Econ."
"Your loss," she said heading out the door.
Truth is I would have loved to go, but I had a date with the devil.
I fished my thumb drive out of my backpack, plugged it into Rachel's PC, found the video, and clicked Copy. A wave of shame swept over me. I was the one who insisted on boundaries. I'd shared a room with my sister and it made me crazy when she messed with my stuff. I rationalized it that I wasn't stealing, just copying. Desire trumped rationale and shame - I just plain WANTED that video!
I checked the books on her desk. There were three. Two were volumes 1 & 2 of short stories, the third was titled My Lesbian Mistress. I didn't touch them, didn't dare. In spite of the mess, she'd know. She'd know that not only that I'd read them, but she'd gotten to me. And I wasn't ready to admit that - not even to myself.
I transferred the video to my own computer, renamed it, password protected it, and tucked it in my secret folder.
I found My Lesbian Mistress as an e-book, bought it, downloaded it. The others were part of a bundle, three volumes. they came packaged with a remote control, egg vibrator. I keyed in my credit card info, checked Next Day shipping, and clicked Confirm.
I read the e-book. It was a diary of sorts. Each entry started with My Lesbian Mistress ,,, It was written from the slave's perspective and chronicled how she'd seduced her lover into a life of BDSM. About three quarters of the way through her lover/Mistress had come into her own and it became a case of be careful what you ask for.
I glanced across the room. Rachel's closet was open. There was a sign: Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here. I entered. No, there was no sign, but there just as well could have been. I was late for my date.
I unzipped the gym bag. The vibrator lay on top along with the squeeze bulb. I found the remote in a side pocket. I grabbed it, the bottle of lubricant, and a roll of tape.
The clicker had only one button. Press once to turn the vibrator on at a low setting. Click again to increase the power. There were five levels. A sixth click turned it off.
I swapped the batteries for a fresh set and pressed the clicker. Level four. That's what Rachel had used on me. It wasn't as powerful as level five, but it had resonated not only through my clit, but through my whole pelvis.
I settled myself in a nest of pillows on my bed and spread my legs. A bit of lube, a firm push, and the thing was inside me again. I squeezed the bulb until I felt full to bursting. Each squeeze seemed to draw the thing further into me, pressed the knob more firmly against my clit. I pushed the clicker once. Low would be just fine, thank you. I peeled off a strip of tape and pressed it to my lips. The wrapping thing hadn't gotten to me so much as the gag. It's what sparked the feeling of helplessness. It was what could be called a defining moment. I peeled off two more and made an X over my mouth. I propped the computer on my knees and clicked Play.
It was good. It was really, really good. I didn't come as hard or as often as I had when wrapped, but I came more in that hour than in the past month, yesterday not withstanding. I clicked Play again.
Lost in my own little world, the noise didn't register until it got louder and then there were several noises.
They were car horns. The match was over and we'd won.
I closed the player, shut the computer, and tossed it aside. I pulled at the vibrator. It was stuck inside me, wouldn't budge.
Panicked, I kept tugging at it until I noticed a metal cap on the bulb. I turned it. The thing inside me shrank.
Thank you, God.
I yanked it out, wiped it off, swapped the batteries back, and dropped everything in the gym bag. I'd just stepped away from her closet when Rachel opened the door.
"Uh, yeah, why?"
"You're kind of pink."
Hearing that only made me pinker.
"Uh, no, I'm okay. I was, uh, exercising."
"Don't say it like that. I've gained five pounds and I decided they had to go."
It was Saturday night, wine night, a couple of weeks later. We were sitting on Rachel's bed, backs against the wall, sitting so close I could feel her warmth. We had been yacking about nothing, but now there was a lull. I glanced over at her. She had her head back, eyes closed. We had killed one bottle. I dug out the emergency stash, poured myself a glass, tossed half of it back in two gulps.
Rachel glanced at her glass. "No. I'm good."
I tried to rationalize it. I wasn't a lesbian. The idea of sex with Rachel left me feeling, well, not feeling much of anything, actually. I'm terminally cock happy. But the idea of submitting to a guy was a turn off. I wanted a partner, an equal. Okay, so maybe there'd be a set of fuzzy handcuffs and blindfold in the nightstand, but he'd find himself on the receiving end as often as not.
I read the books a couple of times, watched the video a couple of more, became very good friends with my new toy. I decided I wanted, no, needed Rachel. Not as a lover. As something else.
I took Rachel's hand, squeezed it. She glanced over at me. I leaned toward her. She met me half way. The kiss was like nothing I ever felt before. Her lips were softer than soft. She slipped her tongue into my mouth. Just a bit. Just enough to say. 'This is serious.' but not so much as to lead to anything more ... not yet anyway.
"Rachel listen, uh, I, uh, we need-"
She kissed me again. After a long, delicious moment I broke the kiss and slid off the bed. I stripped and knelt at her feet. I was lost for words. I didn't know what to say, how to ask, what to ask. In the end only one word came out.