All the Bells and Whistles Pt. 05

If you're submissive like me -- and trust me, it took a long time for me to acknowledge that I was -- then you probably get a serious kick out of giving up control. You trade your power for pleasure.

However, it isn't easy to do, and the truth is you can simulate much of the experience, or at least, I can.

I guess maybe that's the difference between being a "suburban submissive" -- as I like to think of it - and a hardcore dungeon-playing submissive. You'll never see tears on my face while my husband continues to spank me. We simulate the extremes, but we never make it authentic.

Yet the idea of my husband ignoring my wavering confidence, of pushing me a little farther than I think I'd like, of making me uncomfortable and taking pleasure from my discomfort, was a delicious thought.

The idea on its own is enough to make me wet. It was authentic. There was nothing simulated about the apprehension I felt, or the extent of my bondage. And, it turned out, he wasn't even done yet.

"So now that we both know you're going to be fine kneeling here, we can address the fact that you were very late in completing your task. Wouldn't you agree?"

The lock on the cuffs on my wrists "clacked" again as I attempted to shrug demurely. I wasn't about to actually agree with him on that point.

"Good." He said, while he ignored my shrug.

"Because you and I both know that you were late, and yet you still almost got caught."

He was lecturing now.

He's lecturing me for almost getting caught? Whose ridiculous game was this anyways?

I couldn't recall any of this being my idea.

"I think you almost got caught because you were distracted. You certainly seemed distracted when I came in the room.

"Based on my lover's intuition, I'd guess that you were distracted by your wanton lust. Your sexual needs were overwhelming your ability to focus. I'm going to help you learn to focus despite your lust.

"Trust me, you'll thank me for it later."

What the hell was he talking about? Distracted by my "wanton lust"? Where did he get this shit? It was like he was giving a sermon in a Sunday School class. He should have dressed me differently if he wanted to preach!

He paced around me as he spoke, but when he was behind me, I heard him retrieve something from the nightstand on his side of the bed. He came around in front of me and crouched once again to my level. His hands moved to my waist before I could make out what he had, and there was no way I could get a look at what he was doing with his hands without being able to look down.

I would figure it out very soon though.

He was looping more of that delicate chain around my waist -- I swear he bought that shit by the pound. The chain was doubled up, so that when it was wrapped around my waist, he had a loop end and the bitter ends in each hand. He threaded the bitter ends through the loop together and it naturally began to cinch down on my waist. He made it snug but not too tight. The chain was cinched around my waist with the ends leading down between my legs.

Then it started to get weird...

He pulled down on the two loose ends of the chain and leaned in towards me, his head straining lower and lower, until it was almost in my crotch. I could feel the chain rubbing against the front of my panties, and his hands moving around. More than once he brushed my clit through the fabric with his hands or the chains. His hands worked their way deeper and deeper between my legs until I could feel that he was doing something to the post itself -- I could feel the knocks and vibrations in my arms.

The delicate little chains were pulled down between my legs and the tension began to grow steadily. At one point his hands came back to the front of my panties and I swear he adjusted the chains so that they were on either side of my clit, which was probably still swollen from all of the love and attention bestowed on it recently.

As the tension increased, so too did the pressure the chains applied between my legs. Finally, he seemed satisfied with his efforts and he leaned back onto his haunches.

"There you go baby, all set. How does it feel?"

"How does what feel?" I asked in return.

I had no idea what the hell he had done or what he had planned, but I could feel the pressure from the chain on either side of my clit, and it was weird. The chain itself was smooth and delicate -- the type you might use for decorations. However, it was still metal, and metal doesn't usually feel so... forgiving?

"This is something I came up with all by myself, I think it's pretty slick, and I'm hoping you like it too." He explained.

"Fine. But what have you done?" I wasn't anxious, I was just very confused.

"It's pretty simple, don't worry about it. I simply hooked that chain up so that it holds your bum down and runs over the front of your panties for added entertainment. It is connected to the post down by your toes with a short piece of bungee rope. If you pull on it, it won't dig in too hard. However, it will apply more and more pressure to your 'happy place' -- if you know what I mean."

Of course, I knew what he meant. It still didn't make any sense.

So he tied me up a little more. It's not like it was time well spent. I wasn't going anywhere, and that was obvious.

"So how is this supposed to help me learn to focus despite my overwhelming sexual needs?" I asked him, my voice dripping with sarcasm and my words chosen specifically to mock him.

He didn't say anything in reply, he just grinned at me evilly. It sent a chill up my spine.

He reached in between my legs once again and fiddled with something attached to the chain -- I know this because through the chain pressed against my sex, I could feel every single bump and vibration caused by his hands.

The sensation felt something like a giant guitar string being plucked and then held against my skin.

I take that back. It felt like a tiny guitar string being plucked. A moment later it felt like a massive guitar string between my legs being strummed by Jimi Hendrix. He had turned on a vibrator that was somehow connected to the chain.

I squealed. Loud. My eyes became like saucers as the surprise nearly overwhelmed me.

He covered my open mouth with his free hand instantly, to keep me from giving us both away. His grin widened until his entire face sparkled with evil satisfaction.

Oddly there was almost no sound from the vibrator, but the chain itself seemed to be electrified. It was as if the chain was connected directly to my nerve endings, and any lady will tell you that there are a lot of nerve endings down there.

The feeling was unlike anything I could ever imagine, and it was totally out of my control.

My breathing was instantly ragged as I panted rapidly, trying to keep the sensation from overwhelming me. His hand was silencing me though, forcing most of the air to pass through my nostrils; inhale and exhale.

I could feel my nostrils flaring.

And then it died down, almost instantly. My eyes focused on my husband's face and I realized that he must have turned down the power level on the toy significantly. I could breathe again, but the sensation was still there, and it was undeniable.

My husband was not paying attention to me anymore though, he was looking over his shoulder at the timer on the TV, which was still running, and he was muttering to himself.

When he did turn to look at me, he was very serious.

"Listen to me. Are you listening?" he jiggled the hand covering my mouth to get my attention, because it admittedly was not on him at the moment.

My eyes focused on his. He had this look like the world was going to end if he didn't get his message through to me.

"I am going to leave this on, do you understand?"

I shook my head as best I could with the collar attached to the post and his hand firmly covering my mouth.

I was trying to tell him there is no way you can leave this on me. I'll die. I'll scream to high heaven, and then I'll die.

He was nodding at me.

"Yes, I am going to leave this on. Like it or not!

"I only have one question. I'm going to take my hand away, but you're not going to scream. You're going to be quiet, you're going to stay focused, and you're going to answer my question.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

My eyes pleaded with him, but I nodded "yes," at least as best I could.

He pulled his hand away and I sucked in as much air as the corset would allow.

The intense, life-or-death expression on his face melted away into another broad grin as if he had been screwing with me the whole time.

Then he said, "I'm not turning this off until I return. Do you want me to gag you?"

"Yes!" I squealed.

I nodded as fast as I could, rattling the lock on the collar, and I repeated myself in a squeaky voice: "yes, yes, yes yes yes yesyesyesyesyessyessssss!"

I hate being gagged. He knows it. But I knew there was no hope for me if I wasn't.

The post was positioned almost directly in front of the door -- I'd be only feet from the bathroom door for the entire time, and I would be helpless to stop myself. I needed something, or I was doomed.

He actually laughed as he stood up and walked out of my view. When he came back both hands were behind his back.

"Pick a hand!" was all he said. I prayed my choice would bring salvation...

Chapter 15 - A Mouthful of Embarrassment

The panel gag filled my mouth, but just as importantly it also completely covered my mouth. As far as the few gags he owns (because let's be honest, they're not mine even if I'm the one who wears them!), it has to be the quietest. You might say I got lucky.

When he had showed me the results of my selection, I had rolled my eyes. At least I think I did. To be honest I was still panting and struggling to adjust to the constant but completely unsatisfying stimulation on my clit, and I don't really recall my reaction.

All I remember is him showing me that I had "chosen" the panel gag over the ball gag, and then he stepped quickly behind me and held it in front of my face with a hand extending each strap. He seemed to be in a rush ever since he had noticed the timer on the TV. It was now over 30 minutes and still climbing.

I would normally protest any gag, but in this case, I actually opened my mouth eagerly and did my best to be accommodating as he strapped it in.

Here's how it works: the inside of the panel holds a short, stubby, rubber cock. The cock goes into my mouth, I feel a wave of embarrassment, he straps it on as tight as he can, and I'm left to enjoy the fact that I have a toy cock pretty much filling my mouth.

It is oh-so-romantic. My sweet prince certainly knows how to make a girl feel special.

The one consolation of being forced to suck on a rubber cock, on this occasion, is that it does a great job of keeping me quiet.

You can pretty much talk right around a ball gag. The same goes for panties wadded up and stuffed in your mouth (although I'm sure the effect would improve with the size and/or amount of panties). Tape gags can be removed from the inside out with a persistent tongue, despite what you see in the movies. I can't really comment on any other gags, as I haven't given any others a chance to this point in time.

As soon as the strap was secure and he had tested it for slack, he had patted me on the head and very unceremoniously fled the room, nearly slamming the door on his way out.

For the brief moment the door was open I noticed the volume of the noise being generated by the men downstairs had increased substantially, and they seemed to be arguing.

For a group of friends, they seemed to argue a lot.

But when the door slammed, I was alone again. Except now I had a new torment to deal with. Ever since he had locked me in place the bells on my panties that had caused me such anxiety and issues previously, had been forgotten.

Depending on how long he left me here, I wondered if I might find myself longing for the way things had been.

The chain between my legs continued to buzz, but it wasn't consistent. When the shock and surprise had worn off (aided by my husband turning the power down from jackhammer to electric toothbrush), I realized the sensation the chain was creating was exquisite. The vibrations were both delicate yet somehow powerful, and above all they were persistent. I could feel the buzzing everywhere from just below my waist where it crossed over the folds of my skirt, all the way down between my legs and part of the way back up between my cheeks. The sensation was completely new, and incredibly arousing. I could feel the dampness growing between my legs yet again.

There was a very significant problem though. As wonderful as the feeling was, it was also shear torture. It was lacking something. Even when the vibrator had been on full power and almost had me screaming for mercy, it was missing something. I knew I could never hope to achieve an orgasm from this feeling alone.

The chain made me yearn for a more solid touch, for more direct contact directly on my clit.

Unfortunately, the chain was laid rather cruelly on either side of my clit. There was no direct pressure, no matter what I did.

I could rock my hips upwards to put more tension on the chain, but that only served to squeeze my clit between the two lengths, which might have been a change of pace but was still nowhere near enough.

If I did the opposite and relaxed my hips, pushing my bum down into my heels hoping to relieve the tension or possibly even slacken the chain, I was also disappointed. The bungee portion that he must have secured to the post never let the tension drop below what felt like a very firm pull.

I found myself trying to grind my clit back and forth over the chains, but it just wouldn't work.

I was rapidly finding myself in a scenario of unending arousal, with no hope of satisfaction. I bit down on the gag in frustration.

I glanced up at the timer to see that it was at thirty-three minutes.

Time crept by as I knelt, bound to that post, a living statue of submission and depravity, sculpted by my husband.

Sweat eventually began to glisten on my forehead, and the steady stream of moisture between my legs eventually overwhelmed my panties and dampened my thighs too. The chill created by the moisture evaporating from my bare skin served to remind me of my situation.

I figure the only saving grace that prevented me from going numb from the overstimulation was the programming of the vibrator. It had been set on random from the beginning, and so the changing patterns of intensity and timing kept my body on a knife edge between arousal and satisfaction. At first it felt amazing, but after a few long minutes of ecstasy the realization that I could never come this way set in, and the ecstasy gave way to torment. Eventually, it became agony.

If not for the torturous pleasure between my legs distracting me, I'm sure I would have grown tired of my bondage.

My arms were pulled back, my posture rigidly unforgiving. My legs should have ached. Instead I could focus only on the fact that I was restrained, and I wanted nothing more than to be free. Even just one hand -- the relief I could get with just one hand would be worth almost anything!

I shuddered to think what I would give to be free if my husband were to make the offer.

I fought the locks that held my wrists down. Those and the lock on my collar were about the only connections I could fight and fight them I did. The incessant jingling of the bells had been replaced by the rattling of the locks as I squirmed. Thankfully, not a soul ventured upstairs as far as I could tell; the poker game must have been in full swing.

That gag that I had readily accepted had muffled my squeals and moans at first, but as I settled in to my situation I was able to control my outbursts.

Now it served to regulate my breathing by forcing almost all of the air through my nose. Though the molded rubber cock filled the front half of my mouth, it didn't push so deep as to be dangerous or uncomfortable, but my tongue could not avoid it.

Having a phallus strapped in your mouth is an excellent way of being reminded that you're not the least bit in control. The worst part was what I found myself doing with it. I couldn't help but to actually suck on it from time to time, and then swallow. It was just a natural reaction, and the only way to keep my mouth from filling with saliva.

I know exactly how long it took for that first player to be eliminated. Well, at least from the time my husband left me there to squirm and buck and vibrate. It was 23 minutes and 38 seconds.

I don't know how long I could have endured that predicament, but I'm guessing that 24 minutes was pretty much my absolute limit.