© Copyright 2013 - Upper Hand - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/m; drug; captive; strip; chairtie; wrap; tape; gag; glue; pantyhose; cbt; tease; torment; breathplay; mast; sex; climax; denial; reluct/nc; XX
WARNINGDo NOT try this at home, the story is presented here as a fantasy only, to attempt this in real life may result in injury or death. Renee's Torment Upper Hand F/m; drug; captive; strip; chairtie; wrap; tape; gag; glue; pantyhose; cbt; tease; torment; breathplay; mast; sex; climax; denial; reluct/nc; XX
“You really don’t need to do this.”
I looked up into her eyes, restrained as I was in the chair. Their hazel hue had always made me feel taken aback. And as desperate as this situation was, this moment was no different.
“But Jonathan, oh … I really, really do.”
She moved forward, adhesive brandished. I tested my bonds once more to no avail.
“Where are you gonna put that, Renee? You clearly haven’t thought this through. You’re just not … thinking!”
“Oh, somewhere where you’ll shut up.” She took one step forward … she walked so lightly. I could feel her toe brush against mine. She paused - I could see calculations running around in her head. “We’re past the point of thinking anyway.”
With that, she took one final powerful stride, grabbing the back of my head with one hand, the glue almost at a drip in the other, the aroma of cyanoacrylate already burning my nose. “Now, close your lips for me like a good boy, or I put this in your eye.”
“Renee, what the fuck is wr-augh!” I had to yell when she pulled my head violently back, yanking my hair it seemed to the end of their follicles.
“You think I’m fucking kidding?”
I closed my mouth. Her eyes were intent upon mine, sizzling with acrid desires. She let out a half smile that (as much as I hate to admit it) brought a swell to that part I really didn’t need to swell. The body’s autonomous reactions still surprise me. “Good boy.”
With that, she leaned forward, grazing the super glue along my lips. I could feel them warming, bonding … sealing. When I first met Renee, I had no idea that three months later she would be telling me she got off to gore scenes from horror flicks. It was heartwarming at the time, that she would be willing to share her inner most sexuality with me. But right now she was re-enacting the moment from House of Wax when Elisha Cuthbert had her lips glued shut, and I knew how that ended.
I tried my lips. They couldn’t, for all my might, part in the slightest - I had to stop when I thought my skin might start to tear. I had never hated my sexuality as much as I did in this moment, for even despite the clear danger I was in, I could still feel my erection growing. I rued the day I let her know that I dreamt of being restrained as much as she dreamt of taking advantage of some poor, bound soul. I tried my bonds once more. My legs and arms were fully wrapped to her desk chair - it was strong, oak, and well crafted. We had used this chair many a time before; I knew firsthand it was as sturdy as a tree.
“And just to add another layer of … well, suspense is how I’ll put it.” She walked over, ripping the tape in my ear - that sound in and of itself made my erection grow that much harder. Before I knew it, there was one piece across my mouth. Two. Three. Now she was taping my chin. She paused to stroke my face, feel the curves of my lips through the grey fibers. I met her gaze with as much resolve as I could - I didn’t blink, but I was shaking inwardly. I could see she knew as well. The pause transpired; five layers of tape then went all the way around my head. My gag was going nowhere.
How did I even get to this position? It was starting to come back to me now. I had gone to her house to … to … break up? Goddamnit. I can’t believe … everything was so fuzzy. She couldn’t have drugged me, could she? I remember sitting down at her table, having a conversation, having it go surprisingly well, then as I turned to leave … that was it. “Couldn’t you stay for one last drink?” The memory hung in my vision, searing my mental eye. I can’t believe she drugged me. The memory kept coming, like a video … then came her taking my hand, saying “One last time?” Me stupidly complying. That must have been the drug, right? That would do something so stupid as be willing to fuck the girl I just broke up with?
And then I woke up, every limb saran wrapped to the chair. No, stronger than saran wrap. This was pallet wrap. She had declothed me, but she was dressed like she always like to when she was completely alone - a black, sleek bra and nude sheer tights, nothing else.
After having left me alone for a minute after applying the gag, she came back. She walked to my side. She put one foot on my knee. I couldn’t help myself (I still heard the squeal she let out when she told me she knew I had a nylon fetish) but my eyes travelled down to her foot, watching the folds of fabric sit across the toes and shift ever so slightly. The absolute smoothness it lent to her already shapely legs. Her hand travelled to my chin, pushing my vision upwards.
“My eyes are up here, Jon.”
She straddled me on the chair, so her weight was resting entirely on me. She smiled, but this was the first time I had seen her smile without it reaching her eyes. She started shifting her weight so all of her mass dug into my thigh bones … I couldn’t help myself, a small moan was let out.
“See this? This is my hole, Jon. Through the pantyhose. This is how you always used to ask me to fuck you. Remember than Jon. I do give you what you want.”
Her hands meandered down towards my cock. I tried to shrink away, but there was nowhere to go …
“You’re mine Jon.”
And with that she produced a cock ring, the likes of which I hadn’t seen before - there was a small thread hanging out of it. She put it around the entire base of my cock and balls, then sharply tugged the thread, tying it in a neat knot. I was gasping for air by the end. I looked down. My balls were already turning purple. I tried to tell her to fuck off.
“What’s that Jon? I couldn’t really hear you… Oh, you don’t like that? Hm. Well, you do know the safe word.”
My three, sharp, punctuated hums left my voice box as fast as I could get them out.
“There it is! There’s the safe word.” Her hand grabbed my throbbing junk. “We’re too late for that now.”
What followed was the most intense penile stimulation I have ever experienced. It turned out the cock ring had a powerful vibrator in it - that alone would have gotten me off (if I could have). But she kept thrusting and thrusting, each stroke of her hips bringing me closer to an orgasm I knew I could never achieve. This wasn’t the first time she had tied my cock this tight. I knew just how much pleasure she was getting out of this moment…
I wasn’t sure how long this lasted for. I tried to cry out, to move my hands or legs and get away from this overload of stimulation, but she knew what she was doing far too well. There was no escape from this plastic prison. I had to acquiesce to her. I had to be her fuck toy. Every time she started humping faster, she brought herself to orgasm - I could feel her muscles tightening around, a sensation that felt so good - It felt too good actually. It felt like I was ejaculating, but it couldn't go anywhere. The feeling of cumming didn’t stop for a minute - she could feel it. I saw her eyes go bright. She slowed down for a minute.
“Oh Jon. Trying to come so badly, but … that’s not going to happen. But don’t worry, you still get punished for trying.”
She got off of me. I couldn’t help but look at her ass. Why did I need to give that up…
She returned with a piece of tape. She put it on the side of the chair for now.
“Are you … still sensitive Jon?”
She grabbed my cock, rubbing the head. It was still in the state of sensitivity that always happens after a man comes - it brought electric jolts to me, making me try to kick away. Her laugh cut through the sound of me struggling.
“Well then here it is Jon. The best hand job of your life.”
She tilted the chair backwards, making me lie on my back. She kept on stroking my cock with one hand, then grabbed the tape with the other hand. Before I knew it, she had put it on my nose. I couldn’t breathe.
I struggled for my life now. Something in her eyes told me she wasn’t joking. She sat between my legs on the chair, putting her nyloned feet on my face, and jerking me off with her hand.
“I’m not letting you go Jon.”
I tried to hump into her hands. My lungs were starting to feel an aching.
“That’s right, try to get yourself off … this is your last chance.”
Her feet rubbed everywhere on my face - the sensation of silkiness, inescapable, unavoidable. I could see through the toes of her feet that she was smiling with the cruelest look I’d ever seen.
“You’re enjoying this. God, that’s sick Jon. About to die, and you’re still too much of a sub to care.”
Her pace quickened. My still sensitive head couldn’t handle it, and in that moment, where I knew I wouldn’t be able to take another second - a second orgasm racked my body, nothing coming out my cock - just dry shot after dry shot. My vision was going blurry.
“There we go baby… come for me …”
Now my sensitivity was even worse. She kept going. I struggled harder than I had before, the chair was rocking slightly back and forth. Her feet began to press hard on my face, making sure the tape stayed down.
“Just a little longer. Shhhhh.”
My lungs were aching. I was going to pass out soon. She was going to let me go right? She couldn’t actually kill me?
A third, final orgasm shuddered through me before everything faded to black.
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