Copyright Oggbashan December 2012
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
My girlfriend Mary doesn't like reading instruction manuals. She likes finding out for herself. Sometimes her impatience is unfortunate.
She went with one of her friends, Sarah, to London, to buy Indian clothing because Sarah was going to an Indian friend's wedding. The women would be expected to wear saris.
They were pleasantly surprised at the low cost of many saris, especially if bought as a length to be stitched at home, with the blouse material included at the end of the sari.
Sarah bought three ready-made sari outfits with the blouses tailored on the spot to her measurements. Those saris were more expensive because they were for a formal occasion. She also bought a couple of cheaper ones for normal day wear. Mary bought six saris, four of them unstitched, and two with tailored blouses. They both bought several petticoats to wear underneath.
Sarah was very happy with her saris. She wore them in accordance with the photocopied leaflet of instructions that the retailer had given them. She made up the unstitched saris following the detailed diagrams they had also been given.
But Mary put away the instructions and lost them. She had hemmed the unstitched saris and added the lower wear strips. But she hadn't managed to put on a sari correctly. It just fell off. She was not pleased with tying a string to hold up the petticoat because the knot left a bump. She fitted elastic to the waist. She thought the petticoat was too flared. She took it in at the seams to make it a straighter outline.
Mary tried on a heavy silk sari with the modified petticoat. She didn't like the petticoat showing through the overlap. She used Velcro strips to hold the sari's edge together, and to link it to the petticoat. If she had read the instructions that she had mislaid, she would have known how to fold a sari around the waist.
One evening I went to meet her at her flat after work. She was already annoyed because she had spent several hours with her sewing machine. She had changed into the altered petticoat but the sari wouldn't sit correctly no matter how she draped it. She asked me to watch while she put it on again. I liked the idea because she had stripped down to her bra and panties, and she looks wonderful like that.
She pulled the petticoat up to her waist and asked me to fit the end of the sari to the Velcro on the petticoat. I did, wondering why she needed Velcro at all. I then passed the sari around her legs, kissing her bare navel as I went.
"Stop it, Paul!" she snapped. "This is serious. It isn't working."
As I started to wrap the sari around the petticoat she asked me to attach it to the Velcro on the petticoat.
"Are you sure?" I asked. It didn't look right to me.
"Of course I'm sure! Do it!"
I had to pull the sari to make the strips attach. The sari dragged her petticoat tight around her legs.
"Now wrap me!" Mary ordered. I started to take the free length of sari around her legs.
"Not there, Paul! Above the waist and over my body!"
Kneeling on the floor I looked up at her. This wasn't my idea of an enjoyable evening, being ordered around by a cross girlfriend.
I stood up. Gathering the massive length of sari material in my hands I walked slowly around her, wrapping her arms against her body. I tugged it tight. Her arms were trapped. She didn't seem to notice, looking down at the sari's skirt. I wrapped some more. She opened her mouth to complain again but I twisted the sari's end and gagged her mouth, winding twice around her head before knotting it. I stood up and took a couple of steps backward.
Mary glared at me. She made several unintelligible grunts before trying to move towards me. She couldn't walk. As I had thought, the Velcro strips had made the sari's skirt and petticoat into a tight hobble. I caught her as she fell, lifted her up and carried her to the settee.
Mary wriggled and struggled. She was completely helpless, bound and gagged inside her own sari. I lifted her head and shoulders, sat down and rested her against my chest.
"Are you sure this is the right way to wear a sari?" I asked sarcastically. "It does seem unnecessarily restricting. I could do anything to you -- or perhaps I couldn't. I'd have to unwrap my present first."
Mary slumped against me before trying to drum her feet on the settee. She couldn't do that effectively because the lower hems of the sari and petticoat had bound her ankles together. She relaxed and curled up as much as she could in my arms. I kissed her forehead.
"Would you like to start again?" I asked. "With some help from me, and perhaps Sarah?"
Mary eventually nodded. I sent a text to Sarah. She emailed copies of the instructions to Mary's computer.
I removed Mary's gag and slowly unwrapped her, kissing each part of her as they were gradually exposed. At first she flinched, they she started giggling. When she was back to just her bra and panties I left her to dress in her normal clothes while I made coffee. Over the coffee we looked at the printouts that Sarah had sent.
Mary had calmed down. By the time we had drunk a second cup of coffee she was even able to laugh at herself. She got a tailored blouse, an unaltered petticoat, and a cotton stitched sari. I read the instructions as we dressed her. This time she could walk, the sari didn't show the petticoat and she looked wonderful.
"Turn your back, Paul," Mary asked.
I heard the rustle of material.
"OK." She said. "You can look now."
Everything looked the same, until I noticed that her panties were on the settee. She saw where I was looking.
"You know what that means, don't you?"
I did. She sat down on the settee. I knelt down in front of her. She lifted the hem of the sari and petticoat and I burrowed underneath, kissing the inside of her thighs as I moved towards her naked pussy. She spread her legs to give my tongue access, tightening the material around me. As I licked and sucked, her hands pressed down through the layers of sari folds to press me further in.
Soon we were both excited. I was enjoying the sensation of being so close to her in the warm scented darkness inside the sari. She was wriggling sensuously as she reached an orgasm again and again, thrusting my head deeper between her thighs. When she finally slumped backwards I wriggled out before resting my head against her bare midriff. Her hands stroked my hair.
"That was good," she breathed. "I liked your undivided attention and being in control."
She does. Like being in control, that is. She had been annoyed before because she couldn't make her adapted sari do what she wanted. She might have been even more annoyed that I had made her a helpless sari-wound bundle, but she had recovered as I had unwrapped her. But she wasn't convinced that her ideas were impractical.
Soon I was in her bedroom, stripped down to my boxers and wearing her modified petticoat. It was even more constricting on my legs. Mary knelt at my feet and began to attach the sari to the Velcro.
"Arms by your sides!" she ordered. "That's how you did it to me."
Reluctantly I agreed. I could see where this was going. As I expected, Mary wrapped me into a helpless sari-bound parcel. She pushed me onto her bed, rolled me to be face down in the middle, and hand stitched the end of the sari to another fold. I was covered in heavy silk from beyond my feet to my neck. I thought it odd that Mary had left my head free. I had gagged her. Surely she would take her revenge?
She did. Unknown to me she had also bought some long Indian scarves. She tied one around my lower legs and feet, another around my upper body and draped the third over my head. She crossed it under my chin, pulled it tight but not enough to strangle me, and wound it over and over my mouth. She knotted it behind my head. I couldn't speak, could barely move except in an ineffective wriggle and there was no way that I could free myself. She had mummified me in a heavy silk cocoon.
Mary sat on the bed and heaved my head and shoulders on to her lap. She looked down at me.
"I like being in control, Paul. You don't make me helpless. I do that to you, and I have, haven't I?"
All I could do was nod.
"You're staying wrapped in my sari until you agree to stay the night, with me, in this bed. Will you?"
A night in bed with Mary? I'd been hoping for that for months. I nodded.
"That was too easy, Paul. I had hoped for some reluctance that I'd have to overcome."
Mary unwound her sari from her upper body and removed her cropped blouse to reveal her bra. Her breasts came down across my face as she unfastened the bra. She pulled it away. Her naked breasts stroked my head.
"Perhaps you thought a night with me in this bed would be erotic? Sorry, Paul."
Mary lowered my head to the bed, climbed off, pulled the duvet out from under me and then covered me with it.
"I'm going to change. Stay there. You haven't got a choice, have you?"
"I'll be back soon."
I watched her leave. She was back sooner than I expected, completely naked. She was concealing something in her hand.
"Aroused?" she asked.
"What a shame. I think you are wearing enough for both of us."
Mary climbed into bed beside me, turned out the light and hugged my swathed body. My insistent erection wasn't helped by her wandering hands caressing me.
But they weren't idly caressing me. She was unwrapping her present. She ripped the stitches holding the sari, unwound the scarves and rolled me over and over to release me from the layers of silk. A few minutes later I was as naked as she was. Mary was riding me energetically as we coupled on layers of heavy silk sari.
Mary was demonstrating that she didn't need to tie me up to exercise her control.
But she still mummifies me into a silk sari cocoon whenever she wants to.