All the Bells and Whistles Pt. 05

Chapter 13 - Betrayed By Stockings

"Okay, so all I want to know is -- who's wearing the lingerie?"

Oh shit.

It had to be the stair-crusher. The man who I had barely avoided when I set out the towels.

I was still leaning against the door and wondering how long the timer had been going in the wrong direction when he said it.

"What the hell are you talking about?" it was a voice I hadn't heard before.

"I'm talking about the lingerie that was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. It was there earlier, and now it's gone. I know I'm not wearing it. One of you must be!

"It's okay, I'm not judging -- to each their own. I just think you should buy your own, instead of stealing his old lady's!" the staircrusher guffawed like he had just told the greatest joke in the world.

Who the FUCK is he calling an old lady?

There was laughter and accusations and arguing. I held up my hands, the stockings still crumpled in one hand, the garters in the other, and shook my head. How stupid can I be? My husband wouldn't have to rig the game to get me caught, I was probably going to do it to myself!

Get in the game honey, before you lose the game and your dignity!

"You're going to sit there while one of these guys is wearing your wife's underwear?" the jab was obviously aimed at my husband.

"If someone wanted them that badly, I'm sure she'd give them up," was his reply.

Not fucking likely.

"ANYWAYS, can we play some poker?" It was yet another voice. There was more arguing and teasing, but the topic seemed to have been changed, mercifully.

After another minute, I finally relaxed. My shoulders slumped and I realized I was practically panting. The corset didn't make breathing that difficult, but it required effort to breathe deeply.

I tossed the garters to the bed and watched as the black straps scattered across the smooth white duvet. The stockings didn't have the heft to make the distance and ended up barely hanging from the footboard.

I eased my feet away from the door while leaning my back against it, shifting more and more of my weight off my feet and against the door. I closed my eyes, and both of my hands slid down over the tiny, puffy little skirt and plunged between my legs.

The fingers of my right hand went to work, affectionately rubbing and massaging my clit from the outside of my panties, while the fingers of my left hand eased their way underneath the fabric and began to gently tease the entrance to my pussy. My body reacted almost instantly to the physical stimulation. My fingers were soaked in moments.

The events of the last hour had built up inside me to the point that it was now rapidly changing into instant, almost insatiable arousal. My fingers focused on my clit, and my entire body responded.

My breathing quickened. Heat crept up my neck to flush my cheeks, and my legs started to quiver. I was primed to come in only moments; a result that is never easy, even for me.

The bells were quiet, but it was impossible to stifle the low moans that accompanied each subsequent surge of pleasure. I rocked my hips back and forth almost against my hands almost unconsciously, grinding against my own fingers as much as anything.

I plunged a finger inside -- it wouldn't be enough, but it was better than nothing. The wetness covered my hand and would have certainly run down my leg without the panties still in the way. I curled my finger inside me and slid it in and out, desperate for release.

The pace of my movements only quickened. It seemed like my release was always just out of reach, my body always demanding just a little more.

Then my phone chimed from the pocket of my apron.

It shattered my concentration and chased my orgasm further out of reach. My face contorted in disappointment as a cry of "No" slipped out under my breath. I continued to search in vain for the pleasure I had been overwhelmed with before the interruption, but it became more and more fleeting.

The phone chimed again.

Fuck! It's not fair!

My eyes squeezed close and my fists closed around the fabric of my panties, stretching them against my sex and teasing my clit even as I was giving up. My hips relaxed and dropped down until my back was again firmly resting against the door. I wanted to scream in frustration.

Instead I fished the phone from my apron, thoroughly prepared to drop it to the floor and crush it with my heel.

The message was from my husband:

Apparently we have a kitten on the loose in our house, but she's hiding -- even from me. I hope she doesn't get caught. Seeing as you took the stockings, you can put them on. Follow the rest of the instructions, and text me when you're done.

P.S. You were late.

I dropped my hand with the phone against my thigh in exasperation.

Jesus, he never quits!

I was still recovering my breath, no easy feat in the corset, and looking at the tangle of garters strewn on the bed, the stockings dangling on the edge.

I hadn't noticed earlier, but the garter straps were from the outfit I was wearing. I merely had to reattach them. The stockings were expensive black sheer, with a seam down the back that would turn heads if worn for any respectable occasion, but this was hardly one of those.

I was still panting when I made the effort to shove off from the door. I gathered the items and made my way to the other side of the room, slowly of course, to the dressing bench. It was my only hope. The corset and collar would make it nearly impossible to bend over comfortably, which would make pulling on the stockings a challenge.

I noticed my friendly bedroom timer had eclipsed 10 minutes and continued to climb.

I lifted first one foot and then the other to the dressing bench and unbuckled the shoes. Then I realized I was still wearing ankle cuffs. They weren't that tight, but it was going to be miserable trying to feed each stocking under each cuff. I thought about texting my husband to say I couldn't do it, but I thought better of it. He would probably just find an excuse to turn the problem around on me anyways.

I reached under my skirt and gently rolled my panties down to my knees, careful to make as little sound as possible, especially now that at least one of the guys was suspicious. I lifted my skirt on my left side and then the right, using the mirror to great effect to find the tiny, flat loops sewn into the base of the corset that held the garter straps. With three attached on each side, I carefully rolled the panties back up into place, making sure the garters were threaded underneath.

Ever since my husband had first succeeded in dressing me in stockings, he had insisted it be done this way. It meant easier access, for both of us. The earlier incident with my panties had also impressed upon me the importance of details.

Sliding the stockings underneath the ankle cuffs proved to be easier than I had expected, but it was all in the technique. Once I figured it out with the first stocking, the second took hardly any more time than usual. I buckled the shoes back in place and looked at myself in the full-length mirror.

The skirt was so short it barely reached the top of my thighs when I was standing normally. The tops of the stockings were miles from there it seemed, the garters holding them up at mid-thigh. There was still plenty of skin visible between the stockings and the skirt.

The timer was almost at twenty minutes when I found myself evaluating my newest outfit additions in the mirror. I remembered the final instruction on the notecard, and with my hands cupping my bum I quietly tip-toed back to where the kneeling post sat, between the bed and the wall of the walk-in closet, and almost right in front of the bedroom door.

I was contemplating easing myself down onto the padded platform when I heard footsteps racing up the stairs, evidently taking them two at a time. They strode down the hallway so fast that I didn't even have time to worry about who it was.

The man outside the door paused for a moment, and then the timer on the TV froze at 20:46, just as the door opened to reveal my husband, his phone in hand.

He held his finger to his lips, motioning me to be quiet (as if I wasn't acutely aware of the need to be quiet by now). He closed the door and pocketed his phone, and then he came towards me as if to attack.

Just when I thought he was going to bowl me over, his right hand when to the side of my face and his left to my waist as he practically carried me straight backwards to the wall behind me, at the same spot he'd chained my collar to earlier in the evening. As my body hit the wall with a gentle "thud" the bells on my ass came to life, just as he pressed his mouth over mine and kissed me as if he had been starved of intimate contact for an age. I wouldn't have been able to stop him if I wanted to.

He continued to kiss me passionately as he pinned my body to the wall with his hips. He twisted slightly to my left and drove the hand he had on my waist down between my legs and slammed his fingers past my panties and deep inside me. I would have screamed with pleasure if I could breathe.

As he pressed his weight against me, I could feel his erection grinding against my hip so hard I had to wonder how it could possibly feel good.

One thing was clear though, he was as aroused as I'd ever felt him before. If he had offered to it to me right then, I would have hesitated. As good as it would feel, and as much as I was desperate to feel the fullness of him inside me, I knew that in his present state he would leave me very sore, or worse. It was a horrible paradox, but right now it wasn't going to be a problem; he wasn't going to fuck me.

His fingers continued to invade me, roughly and aggressively. His thumb clamped down on my clit while at least two fingers curled up inside me and delved as deep as they could go from standing position.

I'm not sure if he continued to kiss me because of his passion, or to keep me from screaming out loud. Unlike when my own hands had been between my legs just a few minutes earlier, his hand was making a racket with the bells. I was only vaguely aware of it though; I was enjoying myself too much.

The kissing was stifling any outbursts or moans that would otherwise have poured out of me, but I was only barely able to breathe while he occupied my mouth, until I felt him curl one very slippery finger all the way around, into my ass.

I couldn't help but push him away from the shock, back just enough to inhale and gasp at the same time.

The look on his face told he was clearly enjoying my reaction.

For my part, I had no words. At first his kisses and his fingers had served to rekindle the arousal that had been snuffed out so abruptly only minutes before. But the extra penetration, as rude and arrogant as it was, nearly caused an instant orgasm.

Now that I'd managed to find one deep breath despite his advances - and no thanks to the corset - the orgasm was threatening even more.

Something about the way his fingers worked at me, so roughly and brutish, it seemed to convey pure lust, and it was that emotion that was pushing me to the brink, almost despite the encouragement from his fingers.

Both of my hands were pressed into his shoulders, fighting his lips off as best I could while I continued to struggle with the sensations I was experiencing at both ends of my body. My mind told me to tell him to stop, to pull back at least the one deviant finger, but I couldn't.

The way he had come at me, so sudden and aggressively and literally from out of nowhere, and the way his fingers forced their way inside me within moments of touching me felt so depraved. After what had felt like hours of panic and torment and embarrassment, this stimulation felt almost cathartic. I desperately wanted to come right then and there, on his fingers while his teeth bit my lips. It was written all over my face for him to see.

"Can you come like this?" he whispered in my ear.

My reply was a tortured "Yes," followed by an insistent nod.

His fingers stopped pumping in and out of me. Instead he lowered his body against mine just a fraction, dragging his erection against my body as he did it. Then he curled his lower hand ever more upwards and used the leverage to plunge his back finger even deeper.

I didn't tell him to stop. My jaw simply dropped, and I held my breath with my mouth agape. The orgasm that was waiting in the wings seemed to be pounding at my insides, desperate to get out.

And then he pulled his hand from between my legs so swiftly I didn't have time to react. He brought his drenched fingers up to my face and stuffed them into my waiting mouth, clamping my chin with his thumb. I bit down, hard enough to hurt him but not hard enough to make him stop. His fingers were almost to the back of my tongue, and I could taste myself for the third time this evening.

He whispered into my ear once more, this time almost menacingly: "You're not allowed to come again unless you're on my dick. Is that clear?"

Yet again I was devastated by the lack of orgasm, but his actions made me lust even harder.

"Yehhh," I squeaked, while I nodded vigorously, causing his arm to bob up and down as was still clenching the base of his fingers in my teeth.

He leaned in and kissed my forehead, and this time it was sweet and kind. It had none of the condescension of before.

"Good. That's a good girl," he said.

My hands had stopped fighting him and each now held a separate, crumpled fold of his shirt. If he went back to the table, someone might notice the new creases that I had surely created.

A woman would notice.

"Are you ready to wait for the first player to be eliminated?" he asked as he pulled his bitten fingers from my mouth.

And that was it; the game that had been paused was on again.

The roller coaster I was on, the one he had been controlling this whole time, was just at the point where it was hurtling forward after freefalling from one of the peaks. The terror of staring down from the top before the cars lurched forward had been replaced by the thrilling feel of speed.

This was the part of the ride that made the long wait worthwhile. I had forgotten the panic, the unsportsmanlike outbursts, the devious predicaments, the bells. All I could think of was the rush that I'd experienced twice since I made it back from my journey out into the world beyond the bedroom.

At this moment I would do anything to feel that rush again. I would ride the rollercoaster back to any peak, just to feel this waning thrill once more.

I didn't just nod my agreement for him to proceed, I very clearly stated "Yes."

Chapter 14 - The Long Climb

"That's my girl," he said.

Then he gently took me by the hand and turned away from where he had pinned me against the wall. It was only a couple of steps to the kneeling post, and that is exactly where he led me.

Seeing the kneeling post didn't weaken my resolve, but it instantly reminded me that the roller coaster ride was far from over, and I ha a feeling I was facing a long pull to the top of the next crest.

He held my hand as I stepped onto the platform and faced him. The top of the post was just below my bum, and the platform didn't have enough room for me to stand without brushing my bells over it, causing the first soft jingling I had registered since he entered the room. I was about to kneel when I saw him raise his eyebrows at me.

"What is it?" I asked softly.

"Put your feet wider apart."

"Like this?" I moved them almost shoulder width apart.

"Just a little more. There you go." His tone was sweet. You might have thought he was helping me with something, like a gentleman would.

When my feet were where he wanted them, he held both of my hands to steady me as he nodded for me to ease my way down.

I ended up kneeling at the very edge of the platform, the post well behind me. Then I started to wiggle my way backwards on my knees, while he continued to hold my hands.

I worked my way backwards until the post pressed against my bum. My husband smiled down at me approvingly, and let my hands go. I lowered them, one to rest on each thigh.

He moved around behind me and opened the drawer in the nightstand that was his. I felt him close behind me, and then his hands were on each of my ankles, his large hands encircling them easily even with the cuffs, and he pulled.

He pulled my ankles inwards, towards the post. Surprised, I reached backwards with my hands and grabbed the post just in time to keep from falling forward. The bells chimed their surprise, too.

My knees were now splayed, my heels tucked under my bum and touching the post. I heard the familiar clinking of a delicate chain and felt him fumble with my ankle cuffs until, evidently, they were locked to the post.

My feet would have to stay together.

Then he pulled my arms behind me, and behind the post. I felt one hand grip my ponytail and pull me upright and backwards, straightening my back and pulling my body against the post as well. This allowed me to reach well behind the post with my hands now, which was the effect he was working on.

The lock clicked into place, connecting my wrist cuffs, but I could tell they weren't attached to the post -- they were just locked around it.

He wasn't done though.

He slid his hand up my left arm and took a firm grip above my elbow, and pulled it back. I felt him work a padded bar between my elbow and the post, and he held it there as he pulled my right arm back in a similar fashion. I felt the pad slide in front of my right elbow, and then his hands fell away. My arms were now pulled back behind the post, the bar positioned in the crook of both elbows making it impossible to draw them forward. Extra restriction at this point was totally unnecessary, but I could tell that he had also attached my wrist cuffs to the post just for good measure.

The overall effect was a strict kneeling position, with my arms pulled back rather severely and my bum resting on my heels with my knees spread wide enough to provide access for almost any purpose.

If I thought it was a strict as it could be, I had another surprise coming. He pulled my head back using my hair once more and fumbled with the back of my collar. The click of the lock so near to my ear sounded like a gunshot.

My collar was now attached to the post as well.

He placed his hands on either side of my head from behind and kissed the top of my head. It was odd to experience such a loving gesture from him after all of this.

His hand slid down to my cheek as he stepped around from behind the post and crouched so that we were eye level.

"Think you can handle this for a while?" he asked.

I swallowed, and then meekly attempted to nod. I heard the rattle of the lock and felt the jolt of my collar coming up tight against it, preventing me from making much more than wiggle.

"You don't look very confident," he stated.

Is he trying to unnerve me? What kind of question is that? This was his idea; of course I wasn't confident about spending an indeterminate length of time bound like this.

"I'll be fine." I lied to him by smiling. I was faking a confidence I didn't feel.

He caressed my face once more and kissed me on the forehead.

"I know you'll be fine. I just need you to know you'll be fine. Besides, I'll be watching; if you absolutely need to be freed just start blinking your eyes slowly once every couple of seconds."

It dawned on me that the fact that he was giving me an out, or a safe word of sorts meant he cared, but he wasn't about to relent. It was unusual for him.

Typically, if my confidence wavered, so did his. Tonight, he seemed willing to press on, willing to push my limits as necessary. It was different. And -- somewhat to my surprise -- I found it really sexy.