Through a Glass, Darkly

The note on the bed was clear. "Remove your clothing. Place the blindfold over your eyes and tie it tightly. Stand in the middle of the room." She let her fingers trail over the silk of the blindfold and felt a frisson of fear.

With a delicious anxiety, she follows the instructions. Clothes are removed. Blindfold is tied, tightly. She waits in the middle of the room, nervously shifting from foot to foot. It seems like hours, but likely only moments, before she hears the soft rub of the door over the carpet, and the click as he shuts and locks the door behind him.

Silence, deafening silence. She imagines him nearly touching her, his breath on her skin. Then he speaks, from farther away that she expected. She jumps, startled...she was concentrating so intently to hear that she missed his words. Her mouth opens to ask and her voice falters, scratchy in the blind space around her. She swallows and tries again, "What did you say?"

A quick footstep and SMACK that she hears before she feels. "What did you say Sir," he says. Breathlessly she hastens to say, "What did you say, Sir, I'm sorry Sir."

"I said, you look lovely."

She blushes at the compliment, and is shamed at having to ask for it to be repeated. Her head lowers slightly as she murmurs "I'm glad I please you."

"Stand with your arms slightly in front of you, with your palms forward and the backs of your hands resting against your thighs." he orders. She complies immediately, wondering at the specific placement of her hands.

"I'm going to wrap you now. Be very still."

He begins at her chest, tucking the end of what feels to be plastic wrap beneath her arm, then walks slowly around her, holding the wrap taut. The wrap feels smooth against her, and the tightness of the application seems like a cocoon. Around and around he wraps, carefully positioning her breasts with each wrap so that only the nipples are exposed between the layers. He continues down her body, leaving her hands exposed and then tapping her ankles to indicate that she should spread her legs. He wraps each leg individually, down to the ankle. Thinking he is done, and has left her pussy exposed, she hopes that he means to take her this way, but her hopes are dashed when he begins to wrap again.

"Close your legs." he says, and wraps her from waist to knee, very tightly. The plastic is so warm, she can feel her body heating up underneath it.

"Now, carefully, walk to the bed and turn your back to it."

Walking blindly, she positions herself so that the backs of her knees are pressed against the edge of the bed, and he slowly lowers her until she is reclined. She feels completely helpless. He reaches down and lifts her feet and turns her on the bed so that she is strategically placed in the center.

All is quiet again, her senses are on high alert, trying to feel or hear where he is. Unbeknownst to her, he is sitting on a nearby chair, just watching her, testing how long she can remain quiet. The moments stretch out, longer and longer, and she feels restless in her helplessness. She whispers, "Where are you?"

A sudden pressure on the bed from his rapid approach, and another smack."What did you just say to me?"

"Sir, I'm sorry, Sir, I'm just frightened." she explains, mentally cursing herself for her own forgetfulness.

Feeling the bed shift beneath her as he straddles her body, resting on her wrapped thighs. Her hands feel the fabric of his pants, and the hardness of his legs.

"I think it's time to begin." he says, and places a gentle fingertip on one of her exposed nipples. She moans in response, and feels a pulse in her pussy.

Ever so lightly, he strokes her nipples, teasing them to hardness. He alternates between using his open palm to rub the erect nipples, and using his forefinger and thumb to roll them. She is shameless in her reactions, trying to twist her body to have his hands come in more contact with her breasts. He chuckles and spanks her breast, telling her "No more of that, be still or I'll stop altogether."

He raises himself from the bed, and she hears the telltale noise of him disrobing. The bed is jostled again, as he lays beside her, on his side.

"Now, I think I'll have a bit of fun." He bends down and takes her nipple into her mouth, and sucks strongly. Her body arches, as much as it is able, and she groans in pleasure. Being wrapped, she is incapable of touching him in any way, and the frustration is immense. She feels him thrusting against her, rubbing his hardness against the plastic wrapping her body. She is lost in desire, his mouth on her is steady and relentless. Her body is on fire, the plastic encasing her is holding in her body heat and making an inferno of lust and sweat. Her pussy is dripping, she feels the wetness against her ass, held there by the plastic as well.

It goes on and on, this wonderful torture. She orgasms again and again, begging him to release her, to take her, to do anything but to leave her nipples alone, now, please please please. His response? Suckling more strongly.

After a particularly strong orgasm, when she has dissolved in tears and begged him again to stop, he reaches to the nightstand to collect the large pair of scissors that he placed there before she arrived. She is sobbing, so grateful that it's stopped, and barely notices the slight tug as he pulls up the bit of plastic wrap just at her crotch. She hears the snip of the scissors, and feels the cool air on her heated skin. Then she feels the cold steel of the scissors, rubbing so carefully against the swollen folds of her pussy. The tip catches slightly, and she feels the potential pain, sucking in her breath and hoping that he will take them away.

Knowing that he is smirking at her fear, she relaxes, believing in the trust she has placed in him.

Another test passed, he smiles down at her unseeing face, and places the scissors back on the stand. Then he slips a finger between her legs, and lightly runs it along her pussy. The contact makes her gasp and push toward him, and he lowers his head to attack her nipples once again.

Her legs are still bound by the plastic, only that small slit gives him access to her. She wants so badly to spread for him, to give him more, to feel more of him on her and in her, but she is constrained to just that little bit of barely-there rubbing that makes her desperate for more.

She begins to cry in earnest now, and feels an anger well up at being so incapacitated. Her body heaves as she tries to extract herself from the wrap, or twist away from his greedy mouth. He knew this was coming, and rides it out, his mouth never leaving her sore nipples, his finger continuing to brush against the wet exterior of her cunt. She fights and struggles for several long moments, and then stops, exhausted. He grins around her nipple as she finally submits fully, and reaches his free hand up to stroke her hair. "Very good, my dear, I'm proud of you." he says, and even in her defeat she is happy.

Once again taking up the scissors, he cuts away the makeshift plastic skirt, until her individually wrapped legs are not so tightly bound. She remains still, breathing heavily, waiting for the next torment. He pushes her legs apart and looks at her pussy. It is swollen, and so wet, and red from the heat. His desire has taken over now, and he mounts her quickly. Her upturned palms feel his thighs against her, and her aching cunt finally feels his cock pushing its way in.

He buries herself in her, holds himself there for a long moment, then lies full body against her. As he thrusts into her, steady and relentless just as his mouth was, he whispers in her ear, again and again..."Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.