She Who Sleeps

"Let me out of this thing," she whispered with a shrug of her shoulders. "I want to put my arms around you," she told me. "I want to hug you."

I loosened the buckle that secured her sheathed arms around her ribcage and she sighed in anticipation. "Soon, little worm," I told her, "but not just yet." Instead of letting her go, as she had hoped, I pulled the strap connecting her sleeves a notch tighter and she grunted with displeasure. "You still have a long, quiet bath ahead of you," I noted in a matter of fact way.

"But not like this!" she snapped. "Now I can hardly breathe."

"You should save your breath, then," I cautioned her. "You may yet need it before we're through."

"Before we're through?" she groaned. "I thought we were through."

I smiled down at her and shook my head from side to side. "Tsk, tsk," I clucked. "What didn't you understand about 'long, quiet bath'? You talk too much," I scolded her, holding up a bright red silicone ball gag. "Open wide," I instructed.

"But I--" she complained before being cut off by the two inch ball being pushed deep into her mouth. "Thathss nob farr," she mumbled. "Naa haa mmm-my gnnng t' kth ooh?"

I didn't answer at first. Instead I slipped my arms underneath her and hoisted her still bound body up off the bed and carried her towards the bathroom. Taking my first step inside the candle-lit latrine, I paused and, holding her tightly up against my chest, stared into her eyes for a moment and then kissed her again. My lips covered the outside of her gag completely.

"Like that," I told her, adding a quick lick of my tongue across the ball.

"Mmmmm," she moaned contentedly. "Nod baab."

I gently lowered her into the bath, which provoked a long moan of pleasure from behind the red ball. Cradling her head in my left hand, I reached for the faucet with my right and ran some more hot water into the tub to refresh the temperature and renew the bubbles. The suds covered most of her body, except for her knees and breasts, which rose above the waterline like islands. When I let go of her head her weight shifted slightly, pushing the islands upward while her face bobbed just above the surface of the bubbles.

After soaking for about a half an hour, she began to drift off again. Relaxed to the point of limpness, She Who Sleeps was about to live up to her name. Worried that She might slip below the surface, I sat her up and unfastened her jacketed sleeves and pulled her arms free of from their constriction. Her head fell backwards onto my arm, her eyes flickered for a moment and she grinned dreamily at me around her gag.

Moving behind her, I slipped my hands underneath her armpits and pulled her up and out of the water until she was finally standing on her own. She looked like an over-inflated rubber glove, rounded and bulbous from all the water that had leaked into her suit while she'd been laying in the tub. She sloshed when she moved, which made me laugh. She still didn't think it was particularly funny, of course, even though it really was.

"Umzib mee, pleeth," she mumbled through her gag.

"But you look so cute like that," I told her. She didn't seem to agree with me, but insisted instead that I open up the suit and let her drain. "Immebiapely." So I turned her towards the tiled wall and reached for the zipper. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten that I had locked it and had to ask her to hold on for one more minute while I found my keyring. She waited impatiently while I pretended to search my pockets. I knew right where the keys were the whole time, but I took the opportunity to tease her one last time before finally letting her go.

"Fimallee," she huffed, feeling the key turning in the lock.

When I yanked the zipper down to her butt, most of the water immediately rushed out the back of her suit, but the rest stayed in her sleeves and lower extremities. The weight of the trapped liquid instantly undressed her without any help from either of us, pulling the bulky suit off with a comical splash.

"Finally," she said again, this time without the gag, having unbuckled it as soon as she had the use of her hands.

What a vision she was; a pale blue vision. The large tattoo on her back--a beautiful rendering of angel's wings that stretched down past her ass cheeks--seemed to push against her catsuit. They looked as eager to be set free as she did, so I didn't give in to my primitive impulses to manhandle her right there and then, but reached over and turned on the shower, instead. She seemed startled by the spray from the showerhead and turned her hooded blue face towards me indignantly.

"You look so beautiful in blue," I told her. Her expression immediately softened and she smiled. "Take your shower and join me downstairs when you finish." She nodded. I smiled at her with true admiration. "You really do look stunning in blue," I said once again before walking out into the hallway. Her reply, however, surprised and confused me.

"Keys!" she shouted. "Keys!"

It took me a second to figure out what she was saying. Then I realized that she needed to unlock the zips on her catsuit and helmet before she could get out of them for her shower. I paused for another moment to fish the keys out of my pocket before stepping back into the bathroom. I balanced the ring on my index finger and then tossed the keys at her, intentionally missing her outstretched hand. They flew past her gloved fingers and landed in the murky bath water near her feet.

"Bastard!" she yelped.

"I left your robe on the hook," I replied and pulled the door shut with a thud.

"Thank you," she yelled after me. "But you're still a bastard." I smiled to myself and went down the stairway and into the kitchen.

I busied myself while she took care of her business upstairs. I made a fresh pot of coffee and prepared some food for her to eat, a special treat I'd concocted just for her earlier this morning. I knew she'd be famished after her time in "the bag" and didn't want her to have to wait any longer for some chow. I'd just finished setting a place for her when I heard the sound of her coming down the stairs.

"Good morning, baby," I said when she walked in the room. "How was your shower?"

"Wet," she chirped. She always says that when I asked about her bathroom time and it always makes me chuckle. She wore a fluffy white terrycloth robe and her favorite bunny slippers. Her hair, what there was of it, was wet--her topknot hung uncombed against the stubble sprouting from her temples--and her skin was still pink from the hot water. I filled her oversized mug with steaming coffee and then made a show of pulling out her chair.

"Madame," I said with a polite bow.

"Thank you, sir," she replied with equal politeness. "What's on the menu this morning?" she asked. "I'm starved."

"Its your favorite," I replied, setting a covered dish down the table in front of her.

"My favorite?" she repeated, unsure of what I meant. "Is it a surprise?" she asked curiously.

"Yes, I made it just for you," I teased. She was clearly intrigued and raised the lid from the dish just enough to peak underneath. It took her a second to figure it out.

"Cake?" she said, removing the lid and setting it to one side.

"Carrot cake," I announced. "With my own special frosting."

"I love cake," she laughed, taking a big bite. She licked her lips and smiled.

I smiled back and urged her to eat up because, even though she didn't know it, I had already made some very special plans for dessert.

*****