Sweet Predicaments (F/M mostly, some F+/M), #13

[LunaDog]

Thanks @LunaDog! Hope my pen and keystrokes will never disappoint!

Well, they most certainly have NOT in your latest post here! Well done.

[tiedinbluetights]

Thanks @milagros317, @beeblebrox883 and @LunaDog for your continued support!

#6-4 coming soon ...

And for fans of the shorter self-contained stories, #7 and onwards will appear after the conclusion of this mini-series within series.

[tiedinbluetights]

#6-4: A Special Tea Party; Damn these sunglasses ...
(F+/M)

ATTENTION! ATTENTION! Dear Kind Readers. In the spirit of an old radio broadcast ... (nope, not the one about an invasion from Mars; the one that inspired the sunglasses in this mini-series within a series) ... be reassured that, while our male captive and narrator will endure

1. some pretty intense tickle torture as well as extremely dangerous breathplay torture at the hands of four tormentresses in this instalment, and
2. more really cruel and unusual punishments to follow in further instalments,

everyone (narrator and tormentresses) comes out as continually consenting adults, safe, uninjured, and ultimately very grateful for a fun time spent (your mileage may vary on the definition of 'fun').

Hopefully, the author of this series need not continuously remind his readers that this is a work of fiction, even if based in part on some real-life elements--far less extreme than presented in this series--that he's enjoyed during his younger years with his wife/queen/goddess.


"If his breathing through his nose tickles your feet, Candice," my wife continued, "then just use your toes to pinch his nostrils shut!"

"Oh, I couldn't! That's just too mean!" Candice exclaimed, a sweet caring tone to her voice.

"Not at all," interjected Melanie, "I've personally had him hold his breath for over a minute on several occasions."

"And he really enjoys that too?" asked Candice.

"Most definitely," confirmed my wife. "For me, he's even managed to hold his breath for nearly two minutes; and the deep breaths he'll take once you release will feel wonderful between your toes."

"Okay, but before I try this, he's not going to cum while I force him to not breathe? Is he?" asked Candice.

Amelie, Melanie and my wife Lucille all chuckled, and then Lucille said "don't worry about that; whenever I've got friends over, his manhood is caged-up tight with painful spikes to punish any erection. He's probably desperately thinking all sorts of unexciting thoughts to keep himself flaccid."

I could hear a hint of taunting in my wife's voice. She new full well, given her medical expertise, that under the current circumstances it would be impossible for a man like myself to prevent excitement, however painful the consequences of it. And those damn sunglasses didn't help, having my imagination of the scene run wild!

"He won't wet himself either?" Candice asked with apparent genuine concern.

"Not impossible, but very difficult given his chastity cage is equipped with a short urethral catheter that does not reach his bladder and is capped off at the other end," answered my wife. I could just imagine the deliciously evil grin she must have had on her angelic face.

"Oh, that's wonderfully wicked!" exclaimed Candice. "Okay then, three, two, one ..." she counted down in a chipper tone, and suddenly I couldn't breathe anymore. I had just exhaled a bit before I couldn't anymore, and now I couldn't even inhale. Instead, I had to focus all my attention on the warm tea that kept dripping into my panty gagged mouth, methodically swallowing the liquid and concentrating on not accidentally having it go down the wrong passage and putting an end to this lovely, although very dangerous, torment--don't try this at home, dear readers! Seriously. Don't.

The tickling at my feet and armpits relentlessly carried on while Candice kept her toes firmly pressing my nostrils shut. Just as I though I would lose focus and miss-swallow, Candice lifted her toes away, allowing me to take in a big deep inhale of her stinky feet. However, before I could exhale again, she immediately pinched my nostrils shut with her toes!

"Oxygenation level back up to normal," commented my wife matter-a-factly. Between slow gulps of panty tea, focusing on not miss-swallowing, I couldn't help but squirm and shake my head as much as my strapped down form allowed, causing the lounge chair to creak. All the while, the merciless tickles at my feet and armpits continued as I now desperately tried to exhale. My attempts at turning my head were met by Candice's giggles as she redirected my head as she saw fit, pinned as it was between lounge chair and her soft, yet strong feet.

As I wondered if Candice was also smiling cruelly at my predicament, given her giggles, she finally released my nostrils, allowing me to quickly exhale, but only ever so briefly, as she sadistically re-pinched my nostrils before I could inhale anything! She surely seemed to be enjoying doing this to me despite her sweet innocent concerns and hesitations at first! Once more, just as I thought I'd lose focus again from all the tickling and inability to breathe, Candice briefly allowed me to inhale, but not exhale. Once more, my wife nonchalantly announced that my blood oxygenation levels were returning back to normal.

Maintaining focus and concentration to avoid miss-swallowing the panty tea eventually became easier, despite the relentless tickles of Amelie and Melanie. Amelie was running her lithe fingers around the exposed parts of my soles and the tops of my feet, the infernal straps of the ballet-splints forcing my feet to remain "en-pointe" and unable to escape the merciless tickles. At the same time, Melanie's long nimble fingers were no longer just digging into my armpits, but also occasionally tickling my ribs in apparently random patterns.

Despite the tickling, the forced pattern of exhale...pause...inhale stinky air...pause...repeat, while getting used to the scent of Candice's nylon clad feet, combined with mindful concentration on the flow of tea through my panty stuffed mouth, I started to drift off into my all too familiar subspace. I felt blissful despite the sadistic torments I was being subjected to, to the point that my sunglasses started to clear up, allowing me to just barely start making out blurred angelic faces around me in the brightly lit basement.

Unfortunately, the heart monitor was giving away what was happening, and Candice immediately swung up her nylon clad feet onto my sunglasses, blocking all view and snapping me back into reality. At least I was able to breathe normally again. Amelie and Melanie stopped their tickles too.

"Sensory overload, to the point he got attuned to all the stimuli and was just able to relax into them," commented my wife. And then, she whispered into my ear, softly "thought you'd sneak a peak at my lovely Mel, didn't you, you sly boy? Well, that won't go ... unpunished." Immediately my heart rate climbed right back up, to the laughter of the women there.

Candice swung herself off me, but those damn sunglasses had gone fully opaque again. "That was fun!" she exclaimed.

"Indeed," Melanie piped in, "but he almost got a look at me, and he knows it's forbidden. We need to devise some more intense torments to keep him in-check."

"Oh don't you worry about that, my dear Mel," Lucille stated. "I still have quite a few surprises in store from him, for the many more years ahead of us. But for now, let us return upstairs before our three remaining guests drink all the tea and eat all the cake!"

I wondered who those other three guests might be? Madelaine was mentioned, but I had yet to audibly identify her. As I heard the four women leave back upstairs, I barely could make out Candice asking Lucille, "and just what are the limits and boundaries you and Seb ..."

(to be continued...)

[tiedinbluetights]

#6-5: A Special Tea Party; Damn these sunglasses ...
(F+/M)

Muted chattering sounds resumed from upstairs as I was left alone. I tried to lower my heart rate again, by wilfully doing the exhale-pause-inhale-pause cycle that was forced upon me earlier. The heart rate monitor would relay the information to my wife's smartphone, but at least these blasted sunglasses would clear-up again so I could see my surroundings.

I was also trying to slow my intake of panty tea. After what must be now nearly four cups full of Lady Grey tea ingested, combined with all the intense tickling and breathplay I was subjected to, the pressure in my bladder had mounted to a very uncomfortable level. My chastity cage was fitted with a urethral catheter that was only the length of my flaccid shaft, and its exit pee hole at the head was capped off, but that wouldn't prevent leakage and a mess if I relaxed my bladder muscles. Soiling myself in my own urine, with seven women as per my count, my tormentresses, nearby, would be utterly humiliating.

My sunglasses were starting to clear, when suddenly I hear the toy chest my wife and I kept in the basement being wheeled around just off to my left. I'm not alone! My heart starts to pound against my tightly constricted chest, annoyingly sending those sunglasses full dark again. Another loud guffaw of feminine voices from upstairs made me believe they were somehow all monitoring the information being relayed to my wife's smartphone.

"Now, as for your punishment for trying to sneak a peak at me..." trailed off teasingly the sweet sultry voice of Melanie--they had successfully fooled me into thinking all four had gone up!

I hear Melanie take seat onto the toy chest, and then the barely audible soft sound of a roll of microfoam tape being unwound. Shortly after, a real stinky flat shoe gets pressed against my nose. "Don't make this harder for you than needs be, so just lift your head up a bit for me."

I do so obediently, and feel the tape getting wrapped around Melanie's shoe and my head several times. "There you go."

That's it? I thought to myself. Melanie's flats stank more than my wife's, but were not entirely unpleasant or too different. A bit more milky in scent to my wife's, but also with a similar floral base ...

"Oomph!" I screamed through my panty gag, as I felt the heel of a soft foot press hard down on my jeans just above my crotch and below the ropes that held my waist pinned to the lounge chair.

NO! Please! Not this! I screamed in my mind, as I also tried to scream it allowed. But all that came out was muffled sounds of "OOMPH! Plimph! Nymph Nymph!"

"Nymphs? No nymphs here subby-seb! Just me." There was a gleeful cheeriness to Melanie's voice, and more laughter from upstairs.

"Has he pissed himself yet?" came my wife's voice, mechanically cold, through the house's custom intercom system.

"Not yet. Must be the combination of the spikes and the cap making it difficult for him," replied Melanie to the intercom.

"NYMPH! PLIMPH NYMPH!" I continued screaming through the gag.

"Now, now my subby-hubby," came the same voice through the intercom speaker, "we've discussed all this, and more, as a possible consequence of our games, and you've wholeheartedly consented to this possibility."

My sweet wife Lucille was right, of course.

"But for the peace of mind of a couple of our guests up here ..." my wife continued, "... they need to know that your consent is still ongoing, so listen carefully. If you want us to stop and put an end to this particular torment and punishment, scream as loud as you can through your gag for us; Melanie won't prevent you to do so. Otherwise, stay as quiet and still as you can, and we'll resume our games."

Melanie released the pressure on my bladder. Not able to see what she was up to, I jolted a bit in surprise as she twisted both my erect nipples through my t-shirt--she wasn't going to prevent me from screaming through my gag, she was going to encourage it!

However, Lucille knew me all too well. I desired this cruel mistreatment. While I desperately didn't want to wet myself--I hadn't in nearly three decades; it would be so embarrassing, so humiliating--I also deeply desired to be punished for my trying to have a peak at Melanie, and at any of my current tormentresses, even if it was beyond my actual control. Some may consider that being punished for failing at an inherently impossible task is just too unfair. For me, it was a necessary part of the bondage games I so enjoyed and craved--such are the inner-workings of my own submissive mind.

Hence, an occasional tiny creaking sound emitted by the lounge chair I was strapped to was all the sound that I allowed myself to make. Melanie kept twisting my nipples harder, but I refused to scream, as my heart ran faster and faster.

"There we have it, Miranda, Janice. His muffled screams were just for show and our amusement. You may resume your torture my sweet Mel. Make him pee!" was my wife's command through the intercom.

Miranda? Janice? It can't be! I thought to myself. Lucille never had them over for tea before!

"OOMPH!" I exclaimed again through my gag, as Melanie resumed her position, and this time pressed with both her soft heels onto my abdomen ...

(to be continued...)

[LunaDog]

Something i do agree with you here. Bondage of the mind can be as exciting as actual bondage of the body!

[tiedinbluetights]

Something i do agree with you here. Bondage of the mind can be as exciting as actual bondage of the body!

Indeed! Thanks for the comment!

[tiedinbluetights]

#6-6: A Special Tea Party; Damn these sunglasses ...
(F+/M)

"Go! Girl! Go! Girl! Go Girl!" came a choir of female voices now over the intercom, encouraging Melanie to dig her heels deeper into the area between my groin and waist. The pressure on my bladder was becoming unbearable, but that was not all: one of her heels was also partially pressing down on the spiked part of my chastity cage at the base of my shaft. Sharp pain combined with relentlessly mounting pressure. Determined to no longer scream out in order to avoid any further misunderstandings, I instead took quick, short breaths, enduring the torturous stinky air inflicted upon my nostrils by one of Melanie's flats taped to my face.

"You're just prolonging the inevitable subby-sebby!" Melanie's sultry voice remarked. "I'm not going to relent until you completely wet yourself!"

"Go! Girl! Go! Girl! Go Girl!" continued the choir over the intercom. I knew resistance was futile. Once Lucille or Melanie decreed something, it would happen inevitably. Nevertheless, I so desperately wanted to hold it in. If the Miranda and Janice my wife mentioned were indeed who I thought they were, I just couldn't bear the thought of them knowing that I'd peed myself again after all these years.

I desperately contracted my pelvic muscles against the mounting pressure of Melanie's heels, as she tried to force the pee out of me through and around my capped-off urethral catheter of my spike lined chastity cage. Through this torture, I couldn't help but vividly recall the very last time I had wet myself, when I was 11 years old ...

It was my cousin Miranda's 8th birthday, on a hot summer day. We were playing cops and robbers, and Miranda, as a cop, had caught me. We played with real ropes, and she had expertly tied me to the backyard fence of her house, and then went off after the other robbers. No one came to free me, so I struggled to undo my own bonds, but my hands were tied too well. Unfortunately for me, I had a lot of water to drink earlier, given the heat. Whether it was pride or fear of drawing attention to myself, I dared not call out for help. My squirming and struggles to get loose by myself eventually ended up backfiring on me. By the time my eldest cousin Janice--who was already a young adult at the time and watching over us--noticed that something was off, it was too late. When Janice final got to me to help me out, I had completely wet my shorts and pee was dripping down my bare legs. I remembered the frowning look of disappointment on Janice's face, and the mischievous smirk on Miranda's ...

"Go! Girl! Go! Girl! Go Girl!" relentlessly chanted the women over the intercom, as I snapped back to my present predicament.

"Oh! I think it's happening!" exclaimed Melanie. Indeed, my pelvic muscles could not maintain their contracted state, and the first trickles around the sides of my capped catheter made it through. Melanie lifted away one of her feet, while maintaining pressure with the remaining one. The trickle turned into a steady, yet slow flow, spreading warmth around my crotch.

"He's finally wet himself like a baby boy!" exclaimed Melanie.

"Hurrah!" chanted the women on the intercom.

"Phase one of the punishment complete. Time to implement phase two," chimed in Melanie.

Phase two? I thought to myself. Was there to be no end to my humiliation?

"Tell me Seb, not that you can actually say anything through that gag, but do you know what a GoGirl is?" asked nonchalantly Melanie ...

(to be continued...)

[tiedinbluetights]

#6-7: A Special Tea Party; Damn these sunglasses ...
(F+/M)

"Lift your head!" Melanie ordered.

I knew full well what a GoGirl was, yet was stunned that this was going to happen. I've begged my wife Lucille on a couple of occasions to indulge this fantasy of mine, to drink in her divinely distilled essence. Both times she refused, setting it clearly as a hard limit for herself--she would never make me drink her pee. No means no, and I never brought it up afterwards.

As I obediently lifted my head for Melanie as much as my strapped down form allowed, I recalled more details about that discussion now. Lucille had also said she wouldn't want to piss on me either; she considered it too demeaning for both her and me. I had reassured her that my desire to drink her divinely distilled essence did not extend to also wanting to be showered in it, but I didn't explicitly state it as a hard limit at the time. Had Lucille discussed all this with Melanie? Was Melanie willing to do this to me instead? My heart was racing.

With my head lifted, I felt Melanie unwrap the tape holding her stinky flat to my nose. "No point in soiling my most comfortable flats," she mused allowed. My sunglasses remained ultra opaque, unable to see through them, as they even had covered- and shaded-edges to fully envelope regular glasses, sort of like a pair of snow-goggles. "Relax, now. I need to open some windows first to air out your pee stench," Melanie said with clear disdain.

This unfinished part of the basement had two small windows, the sort that are long and very narrow, inserted into the part of the concrete foundation that sticks just past above the ground, facing the backyard of the house in this case. Melanie opened both effortlessly.

My first visual clue! I thought to myself. If Melanie was indeed wearing just flats or was barefoot, she would have to be taller than my Lucille (well, given our relationship dynamics, i'm Lucille's and her Melanie was as tall if not taller than her subby-hubby).

The cool early-spring air that blew in made me shiver. I felt the area around my crotch--pee drenched pink ballet tights under now equally drenched denim jeans--cool and spread their dampness towards my thighs and unto my t-shirt at the strapped down waist level, enhancing my mounting discomfort. As I heard Melanie's heavy footfalls approach, I felt utterly helpless and humiliated, strapped to the patio lounge chair and unable to move a single inch in any direction to avoid whatever fate Melanie had in mind for me with her GoGirl.

"Fear not," Melanie cooed. "I shall not drench you with my pure ethereal essence. Get it!?" she chuckled. "No, no, if my sweet Luce won't, neither will I, but unlike your sweet and delicious wife whose denied you a taste of her pure ethereal essence, I've no inhibitions against you getting a taste of mine, to make your panty tea a bit more ... special, shall we say."

Despite the soft hum of the basement bathroom fan that was still running behind me, and the high pitched hiss of the house intercom still engaged--the women upstairs probably listening--I swore I heard the sound of soft fabric falling to the ground, as if Melanie had loosened a skirt and let it fall. Then, the sound of a jar lid being unscrewed. A few seconds later, the unmistakable sound of liquid trickling into a jar, but somewhat muffled a bit. The trickling sound continued for a while, for longer than I expected it would, before slowly coming to an end.

A few seconds passed by without any other apparent noise. Then, I heard a jar lid close up, followed by some shaking and sloshing of liquid.

"Lucille's panties must be thoroughly infused with Lady Grey tea, so here's some personal refreshing. You'll get a taste of me, even if you won't get to see me." The jar lid was unscrewed again and I heard the contents being emptied into the bag on the roll stand. Melanie's footfalls then receded from me towards the bathroom where I heard her wash her hands. By the time I heard her return back to stand off to my left, a warm, tangy, yet also sweet and salty liquid started filling my mouth, not entirely unpleasant and somewhat familiar, which left me puzzled; it's not how I expected a woman's pee, or any pee for that matter, to taste.

The cool air made me shiver and my near-immobile legs cramp for a moment, which caused the lounge chair to creak a bit as I tried to squirm a bit.

"Enjoying the taste, slave?" Melanie asked with a chuckle. "Be grateful that at least one goddess you serve has granted your wish." I heard her step away, as another chill ran through my body, shaking the lounge chair, just barely, but audibly. The cool air from the open windows was not welcomed. I heard some scraping sounds off the concrete, and then more cool air started to flow up my bound feet and legs. She had turned on a floor fan that she had positioned to blow the air up my legs towards my face!

"Hope you enjoy the smell too!" The combined smell of wet denim, cotton, nylon and spandex, with a very subtle hint of ammonia, assailed my nostrils, adding to my humiliation and causing my cramped legs to shake the lounge chair more.

"Fret not Subby-Seb! We're not so cruel as to allow you to freeze down here." I hear Melanie switch something on, and hot air started the blow instead. She had turned a space heater on right behind the fan, and the heat was most welcomed, but the hint of ammonia in the scent that assailed my nostrils grew stronger as well.

"There we go. Between the fresh air, heat, and ceiling fan in the bathroom behind, you should be dry in no time. But before I go and let you stew in the consequences of your actions, think on this." She walked up closer, and with a finger started to tap on my fully opaque sunglasses, a tap per syllable: "You're. Not. Ah. Loud. To. See. Me."

She giggled as she walked away and back upstairs ...

(to be continued ... with 6-8 being the last of this mini-series within series)

[tiedinbluetights]

#6-8: A Special Tea Party; Damn these sunglasses ...
(F+/M)

"Hey? Do you hear me? Wake up sleepy boy," I hear a feminine voice say as I also feel a firm hand gently shaking my right shoulder.

Was I dreaming all that has happened? No it can't be. I thought to myself. As I tried to move, I felt the zip-ties and ropes pinning me to the lounge chair still in place. An acrid, dry taste lingering in my mouth, and the feeling of a lacy fabric filling it, confirmed to me that this was not a dream. I blink, open my eyes, and to my surprise see two stunningly beautiful faces staring down at me, gentle smiles on their faces. I recognized both: sweet Lucille, my wife, and Madelaine. So Madelaine was over as I suspected.

Sensing the thousand questions racing through my mind, my wife smiled brightly at me at said, "I'll answer all your questions and more, but first let me take these off you." She removed my sunglasses, even though I could see through them now, and placed them onto a tray attached to the roll stand. "Now just relax as we undo your bonds. Don't move suddenly, you must be cramped and tensed-up, so just let us do the work, as we answer what we think are your questions. However, the gag stays on for now."

My wife to my right, Madelaine to my left, both proceeded to snap with garden shears the zip-ties pinning my arms. As they were doing that, my wife asks "enjoyed the twist near the end? That wasn't anyone's pee by the way."

"It was warmed apple juice, my idea," piped up Madelaine for the first time since I opened my eyes.

"But it was my own soaked panties in the jar, not Melanie's, that got mixed in," added Lucille. "You made me all wet with excitement, watching you and hearing you squirm and moan," she added as both finished snapping the last zip-ties around my arms.

That would explain the familiar taste I thought to myself. Bonus, I got to taste two of my wife's panties today! I go to lift my arms away from the arm rests, but both Madelaine and Lucille stop me from doing so, and start massaging my forearms. "Relax, I said, you're still stiff and need to take it easy," reminded my wife.

"You should perhaps command him instead," chuckled Madelaine.

"Alright then," giggled my wife. "Stay still subby-hubby!" There was more amusement than authority to her voice, but I obeyed.

Next, the leather belts holding my biceps pinned were released, followed by more massages. "Lift up your head a bit, please," asked Madelaine. She then proceeded to massage my aching shoulders and upper back.

Meanwhile, my wife had gone to my feet and snapped the last remaining zip-tie keeping my toes attached. That's when I noticed that the windows were still opened and the space heater going, but the floor fan was off. Lucille undid the ropes pinning my ankles, knees and thighs to the chair. "You will have to wash those, later." She grabbed them and tossed them towards the back of the basement; next to the bathroom was an open laundry room, functional, but not walled off in this unfinished part.

"Your next burning question is probably about Janice and Miranda, isn't it?" asked Madelaine.

"Uhhum" was all I mumbled through my gag.

"They were indeed invited over, your cousins, but stayed upstairs all the time," stated my wife as she undid the buttons of my jeans and lifted my legs, still trapped in their ballet-splints. She pulled off the now dry, but in need of a thorough wash, denim. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"My, do your legs look absolutely delicious in those pink tights!" exclaimed Madelaine. "Pity you wet yourself."

Now my cheeks were feeling burning red with humiliation, eliciting chuckles from both women. My wife proceeded to unlock the straps of my ballet-splints, while Madelaine worked on undoing the knots on the underside of the lounge chair for the two ropes that bound my chest and waist.

"Now, now, don't fret over it my boy," continued Madelaine. "Your cousin Miranda works for me, you know. It was bound to come up in casual conversation, and I can assure you, she has profound admiration for you, and does not think less of you for what happened when you were 11, or here today, for that matter."

"And as for Janice, you had told me the story before, remember?" piped in my wife as she undid the last of the locked straps of the ballet-splints, tossed the contraptions aside, and started massaging my pink ballet tights clad feet and calves, but not past the knees.

"So, when during a casual conversation with her, it came up and she told me her side of the story, I just knew we had to eventually have both your cousins over for tea one day! And just like Miranda, Janice also thinks no less of you. In fact, she blamed herself for not being more watchful, back then. As for today, she wanted to see for herself that you were fine with all this and that we were not sadistically abusing you, ..." Lucille trailed off and switched from massaging me feet to giving them a quick playful tickle, before returning to massage my sore legs "... well at least not without your ongoing consent."

Madelaine piped in: "However, there was no point in revealing Janice's remorse to you at the time, nor afterwards. That serendipitous incident nearly 30 years ago served another purpose: cured you of your boyish bed wetting problems." Madelaine finished undoing the knots behind the chair but left the ropes in place. "You'll have to do the rest yourself." Then, turning to Lucille, added "I'll head back home now, I can drop Janice and Miranda on the way; don't worry, we can show ourselves out."

"Alright my dear," and they gave each other a hug. "Bye Seb," waved Madelaine and then walked into the finished part of the basement, pulled the curtain that Amelie had opened earlier shut, and walked on upstairs.

My wife continued to massage my legs for a bit, when the intercom piped up and I heard both the familiar voices of Janice and Miranda say "bye Lucille, bye Sebastian."

"Bye from both of us," responded my wife.

"And if you ever need a responsible babysitter, I'm game," added Janice.

"Me too!" added Miranda.

I looked quizzically at my wife who just ignored my confused expression as we both heard the door close upstairs.

"I'm afraid it's just the two of us. Candice and Amelie have already left, and so has my Mel who had to return the her own slave-hubby. He can't ever see me, only hear, smell, feel and taste me, and vice-versa for you and my Mel, but nothing says you two slave-hubbies can't ever meet. Perhaps we should plan that? What do you think?"

Being still gagged with my wife's lace panties, now actually quite dry in my mouth, I simply shrugged and mumbled "vhat epher uh vhat veer."

Lucille chuckled, and pulled out a chain necklace from under her blouse from which the key to my chastity cage hung. "Let's get you all thoroughly cleaned up and refreshed, and then you can clean up this mess afterwards, before making us supper. Wouldn't want you to get a UTI, after all; as your urologist wife, that would be an embarrassment to me!"

This time it was I who chuckled through my gag, as my wife disconnected the feeder tube and began unlocking the gag.

"Hey, don't get too cocky!" Lucille retorted with a smirk and a playful nipple twist. "You still have to pass my quiz as to who came down to see you and in what order, or there will be more torments for you later tonight."

Having lost track, I took one last audible dry gulp of panty tea, as the unworn sunglasses in the tray went full opaque ...

The End
(of the 6-... mini-series)

[tiedinbluetights]

#7: Sleeping-in Tight
(F/M)

"Huh ... did you say something ..." the slow sleepy voice of my wife trailed off.

A soft "mmm," is all I replied.

She snuggled up closer to my bound and gagged form, her right arm lazily draped over my torso, right leg over my bound ones.

Seven hours ago, my sweet wife had tied me down to our King-sized four-poster bed--correction, I meant to write Lucille's Empress-sized bed as Lucille was Queen and Empress to me, and I her loyal knight. It was a rare privilege after over 20 years of marriage.

...

The first 5 years, we would sleep together in our then Queen-sized bed, that just had a simple headboard and no footboard. We also only had a small apartment back then. Lucille's only condition for us to sleep in the same bed back then was that I had to wear my tights and leotard outfit: I would toss and turn too much when I slept in ordinary men's pyjamas, or even naked. The snug feeling of tight clothing made me sleep more peacefully. However, while we had plenty of kinky sex in that old apartment on that old bed, overnight bondage was not one of kinks, yet.

By the end of those first 5 years of blissful marriage, we finally had our dream house built, with a huge master bedroom--correction, I meant Queen bedroom--and our four-poster Empress-sized bed to which I was currently bound. Overnight bondage, with me always being the one bound in the various positions allowed for by the four-poster solid metal frame, became a favourite game. It didn't take long for us to get used to it, and for Lucille to actually prefer it over me sleeping unbound.

For the next 2 years, I'd sleep bound one way or another almost every night in our bed. When I didn't, Lucille would complain the next morning that I had tossed and turned to much. As our schedules got busier, there would be nights when Lucille would come home very late and overnight bondage for me would not be a safe option. Our dream house came with three additional bedrooms. We kept one as a guest room, but converted the other two into personal office spaces as neither of us planned to have kids. I reconverted mine back to a bedroom for myself, with a twin-sized bed and a much smaller study desk, at my wife's request, so that she may get peaceful rest without my tossing and turning.

We would still have plenty of fun and games on Lucille's bed over the years. However, I could only sleep on it, or by it, if her girlfriend and lover, Melanie, was not over, and if we also actually had the time before getting too sleepy to put me into the bondage, and gag, that would allow Lucille a peaceful and restful sleep. For by now, if I wasn't gagged in a safe way for overnight bondage, I would also make too much noise with my mouth according to Lucille.

...

So there I was now, tied down to our bed on my back and gagged, after 7 hours of sleep, giving a muffled answer to my wife's sleepy comment. I was wearing my blue, high-waisted, semi-opaque, tights, with my gloved, mock-turtlenecked leotard over it. Several lengths of red rope bound my legs together at the soles, ankles and both above and below the knees, each cinched loosely to allow for circulation, but also linked together and to another rope, white, that ran from a metal slat in the footboard, between the two bed posts there, to a corresponding metal slat in the headboard, and passing under me between mattress and my back. Two other red ropes, one wrapped several times around my waist, and another looping around my chest and biceps in a double figure-eight pattern, were also linked to the same white rope. As for my wrists, they were locked into padded, blue-dyed, leather cuffs with D-rings. One ring on each cuff was zip-tied to the rope around my waist; to prevent me from joining my wrists above my waist, a final length of red rope ran tightly from one D-ring of one wrist, under my back and the white anchor rope, to a D-ring on the other wrist.

My gag, for it to be relatively safe, consisted in part of a specialized self-adhesive lip seal that had a tiny slit in the middle to allow some air through. Once applied to the lips, it would keep the lips stuck together for several hours, or until peeled-away carefully. A nasal strip, using a similar adhesive, was also applied to keep my nostrils flared open. To complete the gag, a couple of turns of blue microfoam tape was wrapped around my mouth and around the back of my neck--no mouth stuffings for the overnight part of my bondage.

This configuration allowed some movement overnight to prevent cramping, but prevented me from turning onto my sides or my stomach; it was also my preferred bound position by far, as it would provide my sweet Lucille both a restful night's sleep and the opportunity to snuggle up to me, guaranteeing me plenty of kinky dreams all night long.

If I woke my sweet sleepy angel now, by making louder gagged muffles, there would be plenty of kinky fun to have. The sun was just rising, faint beams making it through the curtains. Having no blindfold on allowed me to admire the lovely contours of her face, resting on my bound chest. Her spellbinding scent filled my nostrils as she peacefully lay their embracing me. It would be weeks before we could do this again. If she woke now, there would be some kink, and then several boring work-filled weeks.

So I set aside my urge to wake her and have some kinky fun now, in order to savour this sweet moment for as long as possible, staying as still as I can, basking in her lovely presence, feeling extremely fortunate for having been blissfully married all these years ...

[Nainur]

have to say:
this is a most cozy, may I say: sweet?, chapter! Congrats!

[tiedinbluetights]

have to say:
this is a most cozy, may I say: sweet?, chapter! Congrats!

Thanks @Nainur ! Sweet and cozy was what I was aiming for, for this chapter.

[LunaDog]

Been working away, so have only just caught up with your story. And, have NOT been disappointed at all. Superb!

[tiedinbluetights]

Been working away, so have only just caught up with your story. And, have NOT been disappointed at all. Superb!

Thanks!

[tiedinbluetights]

#8: Bound to Dine Out
(F/M)

"Enjoying your meal?" our waitress asked.

"Very much so!" my wife exclaimed. I just laid down my utensils, covered my mouth with one hand, thumbed up with the other, and nodded my head, while chewing on a piece of steak.

"Anything else I may get you?" asked our waitress as she refilled our wine and water glasses.

"No thanks, everything is fine," added my wife.

"Enjoy your meal!" Our waitress walked away as I finally swallowed my food.

My wife and I were dining out, just as a couple, at a local posh restaurant. She had ordered for us a large surf-and-turf platter for two, and a bottle of her favourite red-wine. We were sitting at our favourite table, isolated in a small corner, allowing for intimate conversations.

"They always come to ask if we're enjoying our meal when my mouth is full," I remarked.

"Hmm. I wonder if they know if you are into being gagged," my wife chided.

I felt turning beet-red, so I wiped my hands with my serviette and went to adjust my black necktie and the collar of my white starched and pressed shirt.

"Don't loosen it, wouldn't want our hosts to discover more do we?" My wife continued to tease me. I stopped and slowly took a small sip of wine instead, while gazing into my wife's lovely sparkling emerald eyes and noticing her full red lips, almost as dark red with her favourite lipstick colour as the wine. My pristine white shirt will have some of that lipstick on its collar before the night was over.

"You're face is turning red to pale now. Don't be so flustered, I was just toying with you. How could they know?" Lucille smiled at me, her special smile that she only showed me, and perhaps her other lovers, and which communicated a deep sense of love and caring.

I relaxed, and then remarked, "you're right, but maybe they do notice little details, like you're clearly in charge of our relationship, always ordering for the two of us, and always paying at the end."

"Does it bother you that I do?"

"No, of course not! That came out wrong. I actually love it, I just thought that it is obvious to observers that you're the one that leads and I follow, and they may have extrapolated..."

"There are plenty of female-led relationships that imply nothing else than the mundane vanilla lifestyle, my dear Sebastian. You worry too much. Besides, if they notice anything beyond the ordinary ... well, you're the one who insisted on finding a way to keep you feeling bound while we are out in public."

"You're right my sweet Queen Lucille," I whispered. We both chuckled and continued on with our lovely private meal and conversations as waiters and waitresses occasionally passed by to refill wine and water.

As for Lucille's insistence that I do not loosen my collar, it was understandable. Under my three-piece suit and white shirt, I was wearing a black, mock-turtlenecked tank-top leotard, which itself covered equally black, opaque, high-waisted compression tights under my trousers. To complete my need to feel bound, those hidden undergarments were covered by my equally hidden bespoke and locked-on corset, under shirt, necktie, waistcoat and jacket. It forced me to sit up proper, and to only take small bites and sips.

My wife would end up eating most of the platter. While she would take a couple of bathroom breaks, I would not be able to take any; not until we got back home, as always on such evenings out.

It was during her last bathroom break, after having paid our bill that a busboy, who has cleared our table many times before, leaned in while I was waiting for Lucille's return and whispered to me "don't you worry sir, your secret is safe with our team. Discretion is our motto."

Our team? I turned him, a puzzled look obviously apparent on my face.

"Wish I was the boy-toy of some lovely lady too, you lucky sly devil." He winked at me and walked off juggling an impossible amount of dishes.

My discomfort was only brief as I became quickly spellbound, the sight of my lovely Lucille walking back towards me with a deliciously wicked smile spreading across her face, ready to depart our favourite restaurant. Favourite for more than one reason ...

[Nainur]

Loved the read. Your Queen is truly a cunning one, who reigns gently, but firmly! And knows where to dine...
kudos!

[tiedinbluetights]

Thanks for the high praise @Nainur ! The next episode will be harsh again, but the sweeter ones will return. A mix of bitter and sweet, this seriies can be ...

[tiedinbluetights]

#9: Bitter-Sweet Inversion Therapy
(FFF/M)

Acknowledgements: this instalment is inspired by the work of two influential people in my formative years. I've never met them, but came across their respective works on the Internet over 30 years ago now. The first, is the dominant woman who went by the pen name Akasha; her works can still be found on her Akasha Web-site. The second is none other than one of the greatest, if not the greatest, illustrators of Femdom art, Sardax, who also illustrated some of Akasha's stories in a brief collaboration they shared all those years ago. By the end of this particular instalment, there should be no doubt as to which particular story and illustration combination is the source of my inspiration.


"Oh! After a 10-hour shift, and the walk here, this feels so, so good!" Candice's sweet young melodious voice did not match her sadistic pleasure in forcing me to inhale the warm, sweaty, cheesy, vinegary, and rotten mushy pea aromas of her sheer white nylon clad feet. Nurses no longer wore sheer nylons, but for this particular occasion Candice made a point of doing so.

Luckily for me, I was not blindfolded nor blinded by opaque sunglasses, so from my point of view, I could clearly see Candice's cute and dainty, high-arched, size 6.5 feet, toes wiggling just a couple of inches from my nose-stripped nostrils. Her feet were resting on a small foot rest, while I was strapped naked to an inversion table, locked at a 60-degree angle from the horizontal.

I heard the familiar click-clack sound of a pair of high-heels approach. Turning my head a bit, I saw the familiar shape of Amelie's size 8, 2-inch patent black leather pumps, covering sheer black nylon clad legs.

I saw my vision blur as a sheer white nylon clad foot quickly moved passed my eyes, and an instant later I winced in pain as said foot pulled on the chain linking my nipple clamps. I couldn't cry out due the nasty gag filling my mouth.

"Hey, eyes on my feet, slave!" exclaimed Candice, the incongruity of sweetness and cruelty resonating in my ears.

"I don't blame him," piped in Amelie. "I never wear pumps except for when Lucille has us over. It's a tease for our slave; adds to his torments to see or hear me walk about in them."

The heels continued their click-clack away from my field of vision, which was now focused back on Candice's feet. Suddenly, intense and inescapable tickles at the exposed soles of my feet caused the entire inversion table to shake. Amelie was mercilessly tickling my soles, feet held firm by the ankle pads locked in place, toes pulled back and tied to the locking mechanism at the ankles. A foul, bitter tasting liquid slowly trickled into my cruelly gagged mouth, through a feeder tube.

"My my, I haven't even started my torment, subby-hubby," my wife's voice chimed in. All three of my tormentresses have finally spoken.

"Is that cum?" Candice innocently asked.

"Just pre-ejaculate," my wife Lucille answered matter-a-factly.

"What does it taste like?" quizzed Candice.

"I wouldn't know," answered my wife. "I've never given him the pleasure, and he's actually never asked me to. You'll have to ask him, I guess."

Candice giggled, while Amelie re-doubled her merciless tickles at my feet, and added, "if you ever get to meet him ungagged!"

The three women continued to exchange small talk, but I couldn't focus on what they were saying anymore, as more intense ticking was added. My wife was now gently stroking my erect shaft with a feather, occasionally lingering at the head of my cock. Two cock-rings, one at the base also encircling my balls, and one near the head, kept my penis constantly erect. A special cup with a feeder tube was attached to the head of my penis, collecting my pre-cum and soon more; the same feeder tube ended in my mouth, at the tip of my tongue, held there by the infernal gag.

Intense, merciless tickles, combined with the constant sweaty and stinky nylon scent assailing my nostrils, eventually led to the inevitable cruel rush of very bitter and slimy liquid filling my mouth. A bleach-like scent also mixed itself in with Candice's foot aromas.

But my tormentresses were far from done with me. The tickles didn't relent. Amelie's lithe fingers would occasionally circle down to my exposed knees. My wife's feather would occasionally travel to my strapped down waist, while her free hand would also occasionally poke at my ribs or thighs. Meanwhile, one of Candice's feet would occasionally travel to the chain that linked my nipple clamps and pull. To ensure that I would swallow all my cum, Candice would also repeat her cyclical torture, from the first time she met me at a tea party hosted by my wife: pinching my nostrils shut to allow only brief inhales without exhales and vice-versa, forcing me to carefully time my swallows while allowing the bitter taste of my own cum to linger.

Ejaculate would periodically fill my mouth between post-ruined-orgasm tortures, until I would be completely spent. Deliciously cruel, relentless, merciless, and bitter-sweet ...

[tiedinbluetights]

#10: Anniversary Vows
(F/M)

"You vow to love, honour, and cherish me, your Wife and Queen, above all else." The sweet melodious voice of Lucille, as it sounded through my earpieces, was rendered almost ethereal by the recording app she had used, as if a Goddess was whispering Her words into the very core of my soul. "Hmm," was all I was able to mumble through my gag.

"You vow to be my loyal, faithful and obedient husband, servant and slave, for all eternity." An electrical jolt through my groin made me moan through my gag, as the tight bonds strapping my mummified spandex form to Lucille's Empress-sized bed prevented all but the slightest movement.

"You vow to obey me, your Wife and Queen, in all matters." Another jolt, but this one I felt leaping from my prostate to the tip of my caged cock.

"You vow to always defer to my judgment and never question it in public." This time, it was a pull of the nipple clamps, which somehow still managed to stay on despite the double spandex layering of leotard and mummy bag, that caused me to moan through my gag.

"You vow to be my knight in shining armour whenever I need you to so be, always to be of aid and assistance to me." I now felt gentle tickles at the soles of my mummified feet, enhanced rather than muted through the double layer of my tights and the spandex mummy bag. Unable to squirm away, my breath quickened, forcing me to inhale more of my wife's sweet foot aromas from the shoe she had strapped to my head. Swallowing, I got another sweet taste of Lucille's wet panties, with which she had stuffed my mouth before gagging me an zipping me up in the mummy bag.

"You vow to give me free-reign in all matters," I felt Lucille's fingers slip under the shoe she had strapped to my face, and then pinch my nostrils shut.

"You vow to never be jealous, envious, covetous, or resentful of the lovers I take on." I couldn't breathe! The temptation to shake my head from side to side in order to try and break free from the nose pinch was tremendous, but I resisted the urge, for fear of it coming across as a rejection of this particular vow after all these years of blissful marriage.

"You vow to treat all women with deference and to never impose your desires and will on them." Still no breathing allowed, as a double jolt of electricity spread around my caged balls and cock to my prostate, forcing my muscles to clench tight against the electrified anal plug inserted deep inside me.

"You vow under all circumstances to be mine and mine alone, to always worship me and side with me." Lucille finally released her pinch of my nose, allowing me to take deep inhales and exhales, her shoe still strapped to my face, still infused with her sweet foot aromas.

The ethereal recording repeated again, with me having long lost count of how many times. At some point, I felt warm, soaked panties, filled with my wife's divine scent, get squished into the shoe strapped to my face and onto my nose, mixing Lucille's freshly wet pussy scents with those of her feet. I could only imagine how she had pleasured herself, wetting yet another pair of her panties, watching her mummified subby-hubby totally under her spell and control squirm in torment and delight ...

[Nainur]

well, and what a most devoted *subbie-hubbie* Queen Lucille does own, indeed! Excellently told.

[tiedinbluetights]

Thanks for the comments. Last instalment before a little end-of-year break coming up...

[tiedinbluetights]

#11: Planning
(F/M)

"It's Saturday tomorrow; neither of us has to step out. Want kinky game shall we play tomorrow?" my sweet wife asked.

"What do you have in mind? Ouch!" As I replied to my Queen's question with one of my own, she plucked a long leg hair that was poking out through my blue opaque tights. "You know, I can shave my legs if you'd prefer." I added.

"Ah, but as hairy as you are, you'd have to shave them pretty much as often as your face. Otherwise I'd find it too prickly as the hair grows back."

"I'd gladly do that for you, my Queen."

I felt my wife grab hold of a couple of more leg hairs poking through, pulling on them slightly, and then turn to face me, looking straight at me with a pouty look on her face, "but then I don't get to see you squirm as I do ... this!" She yanked on the hairs, plucking them right out, as I indeed squirmed, the little my already bound and strapped down body, for overnight bondage, allowed. "Would you take my fun away?" she added, continuing to pout.

"Of course not, my dear love, have your fun with me," I said, wanting to hug her tight in my arms as I answered her, but unable to, as my wrists wee already bound in my ready for bed position.

She smiled her beautiful special smile at me as she said "thanks sweet subby-hubby," and returned to plucking yet another hair that poked through, on my left thigh this time, causing the mattress to shake as I tried to squirm. Her sweet gleeful giggles resonated in my ears.

"So, what shall we play tomorrow, after your chores?" she re-asked.

"What about some inversion therapy?" I suggested. Another "ouch," came out of my mouth as she plucked yet another hair, this time with a pair of tweezers she had grabbed from the nightstand to my right on her side of the bed.

"So soon? Amelie and Candice were just over a couple of days ago." She plucked two more hairs that poked through near my groin with the tweezers, causing me to squirm, but not say anything until she was done saying what she wanted. "Besides, it will be just the two of us. Anything else before I seal up you mouth for the night?"

I had to guess correctly, now. If I suggested something she didn't fancy, there would be no kinky games tomorrow, just boring chores and mundane vanilla couple stuff.

"Femdom chess?" I ventured.

Lucille rolled back to her side of the bed, stored away the tweezers on her nightstand, and then gracefully stood up onto the soft mattress, naked legs apart, her firm, gym toned body allowing her to maintain balance with ease.

"What a wonderful suggestion my love! You'll most probably lose, but I admire your efforts."

She had not asked me a direct question, so I dared not answer. She lifted her right foot, still gracefully maintaining her balance and gently pressed it down onto my groin--onto my caged cock below spandex leotard and tights.

"You know, I might just have prepared a special move for you," she mused as she gave my caged cock a couple of pumps with the ball of her foot, while looking down at him, not at my face. She then turned to face me, placing one foot on either side of my bound body, towering above me, her naked pussy glistening in the bedroom light.

"Make me cum before sleep. Slowly," she commanded in a soft tone, as she lowered herself, straddling my face ...

[LunaDog]

'Femdom' cheese?

Um, have to give THAT a try some day, normally stick to a good mature cheddar t.b.h.

[tiedinbluetights]

'Femdom' cheese?

Um, have to give THAT a try some day, normally stick to a good mature cheddar t.b.h.

Not sure about the cheese, I prefer Stilton myself, but the chess game (episode #5 actually follows this one in actual chronological order, if not posting order) is much more painful, and delightful ...

[LunaDog]

To quote a certain Brittany Spears, a few years ago now i admit, "Oops i did it again!"

Because, it's CLEAR you said Femdom CHESS, not Femdom cheese! SORRY!


I suppose that's explained by the fact, that whilst i do know the rules of chess itself, and how the various components move, i'm NOT very experienced or skilled at playing the game itself.