#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)