Tom and Gabby Ch. 11 - Insomnia

*Hi Guys! Sorry it's been a while! Inspiration has been lacking for a couple of months, but I've wrangled it back, and hopefully will be able to add a few new chapters while I've got it.

I hope everyone had a great festive period and new year!

Thanks for all the comments/rates/feedback for Ch. 10, I think it was always going to be a contentious subject but I get a bit compulsive when I've committed to an idea. Let me know what you think of this chapter.

Ch. 12- Big Celebrations is now being penned.*

Have you ever had one of those nights? The ones where you can't seem to fall asleep, no matter how hard you try? The ones spent rolling around for countless hours, trying to find an almost semi viable position that you might be able to settle in? The ones during which you realise, as sleep fails to take hold, that you're doomed to endure the restlessness until it's time to wake up?

I'm having one of those nights.

Linda insisted on my coming upstairs for the night at around nine o'clock. She followed the normal routine with me, no different to usual. Letting me use the toilet. 'Helping me' undress for bed. Clicking her fingers at me impatiently, while demanding I get into my camp bed, before strapping me onto it. Finally turning the light off and leaving me alone, while she went back downstairs and enjoyed the rest of her evening with my husband.

The only difference tonight, is that instead of drifting to sleep to the murmured sounds of them laughing and talking from the room directly below me, my attempts to induce sleep failed miserably.

I'd still been awake when they'd come up to bed themselves, conducting their own bedtime rituals and then climbing into the king-size bed that Tom and I used to share. It's far more flamboyantly dressed now than I'd ever made it; boasting two hundred thread count cotton sheets and quilt covers to match the curtains. Yet another example of Linda's snobbish housekeeping.

Neither of them had cast a glance over to me and didn't notice me staring across the darkened bedroom in their general direction. They'd whispered between themselves until Linda had slipped under the covers and proceeded to give Tom an indulgently slow blowjob as he'd lain, moaning out pleasured breathy expletives.

I'd seen the silhouette of her head bobbing up and down from underneath the duvet cover.

I'd watched Tom's toes curling as she'd brought him closer and closer to the brink of cumming, before he'd groaned out loudly and presumably treated her to a hot throatful of his spunk.

She'd emerged from the covers and snuggled into him, lovingly.

Tom had taken a moment, before returning the affection by reaching down between her legs, and making the duvet move in a different way as he'd fingered her.

It'd not taken long for her to purr out his name and grip hold of his bulging biceps while orgasming over his hand. He'd gotten hard again in the time it'd taken her to cum, and he'd climbed on top of her, initiating a passionate fucking session which'd left the room thick with the smell of them by the time they'd finished and fallen asleep in each other's arms.

That had been hours ago.

I should be lost in a black hole of my own mind by now, sleeping soundly. But I'm not. I'm awake, and I'm becoming increasingly frustrated about being so. My eyes are hurting with tiredness.

When Tom and I had been happily married and sharing a bed, before Linda's interference, I'd occasionally had nights like this. Whenever I'd complained to Tom about it, he'd sighed and told me to visit the doctors for sleeping tablets. I'd always declined to, feeling my insomnia to be too infrequent to justify medication.

I'd found my own solution instead, a more natural remedy.

If I'd ever struggled to sleep back then, I'd simply slipped my hands between my thighs, under the covers and circled my clit for a few minutes with my fingers until I brought myself to climax. I never had any trouble getting to sleep after an orgasm.

I always assumed my self-induced cure for sleeplessness had been a secret, until Tom dispelled my assumption by telling Linda all about it. I'd been surprised at his knowledge of my nocturnal activities, but worse than that, his disclosure had led to her insistence upon implementing the bed restraints.

She'd voiced tremendous disapproval at my having any control over my own pleasure.

An orgasm would work wonders for me now, I'm certain of it.

If I was able to bring myself to one, I have no doubt that I'd be asleep within a few minutes.

I look around the room again, for the thousandth time tonight. I can hear Tom and Linda breathing deeply, probably dreaming about new ways to degrade me.

They've no idea that I'm still awake and they never will.

I squint over and see Linda's long, blonde hair spread across her pillow. Her face is nuzzled into Tom's arm, and he looks to be holding her protectively in his slumber. His Linda. The apparent love of his life. There's no sense of personal space between them.

He and I never slept like that together. Not once, in eleven years of marriage. We'd both liked our own sides of the bed, and I'd never viewed that as an omen of discontent. I find myself thinking that Linda orchestrates their sleeping position as some sort of pointed dig at me, bragging that she's more compatible with Tom, even in their sleep.

I pre-empt the morning, in a few hours' time. The way Linda will shake me awake, her brown eyes sparkling as she smiles down at me, full of optimism for the coming day.

I think about how awful I'm going to feel as she wakes me and how she's going to berate me for my inevitable irritability. My unpleasant demeanour will undoubtedly set the tone for the rest of the day. They'll anticipate trouble and take initiative by preventing me from doing anything at all. I expect I'll be secured to the dining table from dawn until dusk, vibrated into blubbering submission.

I haven't even got the means to disguise my tired complexion behind my hair anymore. Linda robbed me of that luxury about a month ago too.

If I could somehow give myself an orgasm, I'd at least be capable of supressing my contempt for them for the day and not incur further punishments for a 'bad attitude'.

Surely this could be seen as a noble incentive to try.

I pull my right arm down from above my head, seeing how far the bed restraint will stretch.

I make sure to move slowly to avoid the metal connections chinking and giving me away. I reach the bottom of my ribcage before my movement becomes restricted. I splay my fingers out, stretching down desperately towards my pussy.

"For fucks sake," I curse to myself.

I relax my arm again and bring the fabric cuff into view above my face. If there's no compromise in the stretch of the strap, maybe there's some in the cuff.

I wiggle my wrist and find that there's a bit of room inside it.

I slowly bend my hand back, past the point of comfort and gradually start working it out of the cuff. The metal sounds quietly and I freeze in place.

Linda emits a small vocalisation from across the room and I flick my eyes shut, pretending earnestly to be asleep, holding my breath. I wait to hear her coming over to check me, but after a tentative few moments, it doesn't happen.

I open my eyes again and look over. She's still in the bed, undisturbed and dreaming contentedly.

I steady my breathing and resume trying to wrangle free from the cuff.

I'm amazed when I'm able to pull my hand through and I hold it up, delightedly. This small, almost insignificant feat feels incredible.

I'm conscious that I'll need to get my hand back inside the cuff before morning to avoid being discovered.

If I'm found in any condition less than fully tethered, an alternative method of securing me will be implemented, something considerably less comfortable and a lot more restrictive.

Added to that, this triumph is my secret, and I want it to remain as such. Through my own perseverance, I've secured access to my own cunt and am now able to give myself the relief I need to get to sleep.

I roll myself completely flat, the way I used to and lift the covers to slip my free hand underneath. I slowly glide down my body, making no stops as I head directly between my legs.

I position my finger between my lips, quickly locating my clit and begin making clockwise circles around it. The conditions are optimal; I'm dry enough to keep my fingers from slipping off the spot, and as I build up pace, I fantasise about the pleasures I'll experience once I liberate myself from Tom and Linda.

I close my eyes and bite the edge of my duvet to keep from breathing too loudly and continue to masturbate. It takes barely any time to progress into build up, and I keep rubbing furiously, confident that a few more seconds will bring completion followed by much needed rest.

I'm brought out of my fantasies abruptly when I hear the wrist restraint falling to the floor, taking the metal links clinking with it.

It sounds clearly through the otherwise silent bedroom.

My body stiffens in fear, unmoving on the bed. I'm breathing hard, half from my illicit self-pleasuring, half from panic. I quickly withdraw my hand from between my pussy lips and bring it up to my stomach, not daring to venture further and draw undue attention, before closing my eyes and trying my hardest to appear asleep.

"What the fuck?" I hear Linda mutter from across the room.

As much as I wish for her to turn a blind eye to the noise, I hear her throwing back the covers and getting out of bed. I can smell her floral perfume getting stronger as she pads over to me to investigate. When she reaches me, I feel her studying me suspiciously. The wrist restraint is on the floor right in front of her, she can't have not seen it.

I very much doubt she'll believe that it just 'slipped off'.

My duvet is suddenly lifted off me, fully exposing my naked body.

A moment passes, perhaps an opportunity designed to trick me into reacting and giving myself up, before one of Linda's hands snakes its way between my thighs. She's ruthless as she begins probing around, seeming to instinctually know what my being unbound could mean. Apparently I'm predictable now.

She gently stretches my lips open wide and peers down to see between them, before using a finger to take a more tactile approach, by sliding up and down, inspecting for wetness. She brushes my clit as she does and I inhale sharply. She hears my breath, and intensifies her search, moving to the base of my cunt and pushing a finger inside me. Before the interruption, I'd been right on the cusp of orgasming, and as a result, my hole is sodden with juices. Her finger slides right in, frictionlessly.

"Got you!" she hisses and pulls her hand out and away from my cunt. I open my eyes a fraction and see her slight frame towering over me, totally naked, glowering down. I immediately know I can't give a reasonable excuse. Even if there was one, I'm too fatigued to think of it.

Linda sets to roughly unfastening my remaining binds, unstrapping me completely.

I'd have much preferred if she'd refitted the loose restraint and promised repercussions in the morning.

"Get downstairs, right now," she seethes quietly, looking over at Tom to ensure he's not been disturbed by the scene.

I'm unequipped to argue with her and so climb up and out of the bed. I scuttle across the bedroom towards the hall, and make my way down it, before descending the stairs.

She storms down behind me, apoplectically faced. I correctly assume she wants me in the dining room, and I move towards it, with her pursuing me closely.

Once we're both inside, she eases the door closed and turns the lamp on. I busy myself with climbing onto the table, without delay. I'm struggling to recall a previous occasion where I've seen her so enraged. I don't want to do anything else to antagonise her.

She strides over to the table, and moves around it, making quick work of fastening me onto it, pulling the straps tighter than normal. When she's finished restraining me, she stands, hands on hips, shaking her head at me. She doesn't seem to care that she's completely unclothed.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing under those covers," she challenges, venomously.

"I couldn't sleep," I stammer.

"You couldn't sleep?" she repeats, in disbelief. "So, you just decided to pull your hand free and rub your pussy? While we were sleeping across the room from you? In our own bedroom?! What the hell is wrong with you!"

Her reaction to my actions feels highly disproportionate.

She drags the microphone stand over to the table and starts setting it up between my splayed legs.

I watch as she moves, noticing and resenting the way her body seems to be completely flawless. She doesn't have an unwanted blemish on her skin and when she bends, there isn't a crease of fat on her anywhere.

She leans the arm of the stand in, burrowing the wand head into my slit, and swiftly switches it on, before moving around the table, to be closer to my head.

I immediately buck, and vocalise and Linda claps her hand down over my mouth and presses firmly. I can almost taste her perfume now and I turn my nose up. It's one she wears especially because Tom favours it.

"Don't you dare wake Tom," she rages. "Do I need to put your gag in? Is that what you want?"

I shake my head frantically and she slowly removes her hand.

"What you did is unacceptable Gabrielle. A gross violation of the little trust we put in you," she laments. "When are you going to learn? It's been nearly six months now. I know, it doesn't seem long in the great scheme of things, given that you're going to be spending the rest of your life like this. But you should know how things work by now. I can't understand why you find it so difficult."

"I'm sorry...?" I try, hoping that the words might incentivise her to make whatever punishment she settles on quick.

"Sorry isn't good enough Gabrielle," Linda sighs. "Tom and I can't just let you touch yourself whenever you want to. There has to be rules. That's why you're restrained overnight. Not to mention the disrespect it shows."

She steps away from the table and collects the TV remote from the sideboard. She powers the screen on, and opens the TV browser, before loading one of the porn sites they sometimes make me watch.

"What are we going to put on for you?" she asks and then checks the gold Gucci watch that Tom recently gifted her with. "We need something to last you a good few hours," she corrects herself.

I'm too busy battling vibrations to contribute an opinion.

She scrolls through the videos, and yawns widely.

"Tom and I won't be getting up for another four and a half hours," she informs me, scanning through moving thumbnails of people fucking.

"What about a good compilation?" she suggests, clicking on one of them. "That'll do. Six and a half hours of 'violent cum-shots'."

She looks down at me before clicking on it and letting it load. "I know you're partial to the noises...you go crazy when Tom and me are moaning...so let me just check this one has sound..."

The room fills with sexualised moans. Linda issues a small nod and turns the volume enough that I can still hear the impassioned noises.

She replaces the remote onto the sideboard and stands watching the wall mounted screen.

"You never sucked Tom's cock like that, did you?" she comments, snidely.

When I don't look at the screen, she bends over me and forcibly turns my head to face it.

Her pert pink nipples almost make contact with my face as she leans over me.

A vivid, closeup blowjob is playing. A busty brunette woman is choking on a huge cock. She's gagging noisily on it and her face is stained with mascara and tears. After a couple more brutally harsh strokes into her throat, the man in the video pulls his saliva-soaked cock from her slobbering mouth before spraying jets of thick white cum onto her tongue. She grins wickedly as she receives the load.

"Tom gave me a couple of those yesterday, Gabrielle. He's absolutely rampant. I don't suppose he was like that when he was with you," Linda boasts. I try to turn away, offended by her vulgar gloating, but she holds my head firm.

A black screen precedes another couple appearing, this time fucking on a kitchen island counter. The video has been shot in crystal clear high definition.

The woman is making loud, obnoxious, and very obviously fake moaning noises as her partner slides his monstrously sized cock in and out of her bald, hairless cunt. I watch and wait for a few seconds, until he pulls out, wanking himself for the final few strokes before ejecting a high-pressured load over her mound and stomach, while she continues to moan dementedly.

"Mm," Linda sounds, suggestively. "Y'know, of all the rooms in this house, the kitchen is the place Tom and I have fucked the least y'know? How would you feel about watching him fuck me on one of the counters while you're having your breakfast tomorrow?"

The vibrations continue to buzz against my pussy, and I feel currents of ecstasy starting to build up uncontrollably. My hips and pelvis start to arch upwards, wedging the weaponised wand head harder against me and enhancing the sensation. My legs struggle to straighten, rigidly. My neck tilts backwards and Linda releases her grasp of my head, allowing the pleasure to take its course and ruin me.

Waves of undiluted bliss begin to spread outwards from the base of my cunt, moving in every direction and rendering my limbs and torso completely taut for a few seconds.

I howl out manically as my breathtaking buildup develops into a ferociously hard orgasm. It hits me at such strength that it's almost excruciating, I suspect it's made more intense by my earlier edging.

"You really need to be quiet Gabrielle! It's two o'clock in the morning," Linda scolds from her superior position.

I ignore what she's saying, feeling as though I've been transported into a different dimension by the magnitude of my climax. The vibrations continue, a small inconvenience, but one that I'm able to temporarily overlook in my ecstasy, panting wildly, my whole body rising and falling with each inhale.

An indeterminable amount of time passes until I taste the rubber ball of the gag as it's pushed into my open mouth. I feel it being secured tightly at the back of my head, but still don't make a conscious effort to return to reality.

Linda moves round the room. At one point, I feel her between my legs, her dextrous fingers brushing delicately against my clit, seeming to be massaging something cold and wet into the area surrounding it. The sensation makes me twitch and shudder and I'm torn from my semiconscious state, to see what she's doing.

When she sees my eyes open, she smiles up, all traces of vexation gone from her face.

"Right Gabrielle," she states and notices my expression. "I've had to put it in, given how worked up you're getting. We can't have you shrieking and squealing all night. Tom and me need our sleep," she justifies.

"We're going to have a bit of a lie in tomorrow, but we'll come and check on you when we're up. I'll be telling Tom what you were doing, and he'll probably think of an appropriate way to punish you," she adds.

I look up at her pitifully and try to protest through the ballgag.

"You can't leave me here like this!"

Linda looks at me belligerently. "Of course, I'm going to tell Tom," she misunderstands. "We're going to have to think about how to deal with you. Now I'm going back upstairs to bed. We'll see you in the morning."

She pauses before she leaves and approaches the wand. She flicks the switch on the handle and the vibrations increase. I grimace and pull at the restraints, fiercely.

Linda pretends not to notice as she turns and walks towards the door. She turns the lamp off before she goes through it. The only light left in the room comes from the television. I don't even hear her going back up the stairs, concentrating instead on the predicament that I now find myself in.