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

[tiedinbluetights]

Story catalog description: Sweet Predicaments (F/M mostly, some F+/M) (MA)

Sweet Predicaments

A series of kinky bondage predicaments and fantasies, some based on real life experiences I've had, and some many clearly in the domain of fiction and fantasy.

#1: Smell my feet; feel the pinch
(F/M)

"Enjoying the view?" a sweet feminine voice asks me teasingly.

The voice is my girlfriend's. A voice I would recognize anywhere, in any context. While I'm certainly enjoying the full view of her left foot, clad in semi-sheer orange tights, all I can respond is "mmmyyshh", as she had effectively gagged me with several rounds of duct tape, after having first stuffed my mouth with her recently worn panties.

"You certainly don't seem to be enjoying the smell," she adds mockingly.

That was not true! Certainly she could feel my hard-on with her other foot, which was rubbing against my privates, as she lay comfortably off to my side. As for me, I was far from comfortable, tied-down and stretched-out as I was. She had tied my legs together at the ankles and both above and below my knees. Then, she had my ankles tied to the headboard of our queen-sized bed. Finally, she had tied my arms together at the wrists, and pulled them above by head and anchored tightly to the bed frame below the foot end of the mattress. Stretched out as I was, my head pinned between my arms, I could barely tilt my head from side to side, trying to avoid the smell of her foot.

Ah, but how that sweet, pungent smell filled my nostrils. A mix of cheesy, vinegary, and leathery scents, due to her having walked all day in her leather boots, enclosing her sweet little feet, clad in her orange tights she wore to work to match her outfit for the office Halloween party they had. Now, late in the evening, in the privacy of our own home, I finally got to enjoy the scent, but not enough according to my sweet angelic girlfriend.

"You're not inhaling deep enough. Let me encourage you," I hear her say with a slight giggly tone. With her foot filling my view, all I can see is her foot coming down to press tightly against my nose. I can only imagine the view from her vantage as my nose must poke between two of her toes, pressing against her tights. As she pinches my nostrils shut, my breath is cut-off, and I start to squirm vigorously against my bonds and try to turn my head away, both in vain.

However, the real pinch I feel is not on the nose, but on my nipples. As she pinched my nose shut, she also arched her foot up a bit, which caused the chain linking the nipple clamps she had deviously applied after she had me bound to pull tight. The pain, sweet pain, made me moan into my gag. After a few seconds only, but what seemed like an eternity also, she released both the arching of her foot, and the pinching of my nostrils, wiggling her toes through her stinky tights less than an inch from my nose.

Once able to breathe, I was forced to take deep long inhales and exhales, much to the amusement of my tormentor-girlfriend. "That's much better! I enjoy feeling your breath through my tights." I heard and felt her lean back further into the bed, one foot pressing more strongly into my privates, and the other alternating between hovering near my nostrils, or pressing against them and pinching ...

Ah the sweet predicament!

[LunaDog]

Well my friend, she is REALLY putting you through it! But, IF you enjoy it, and you appear to be doing precisely THAT, then who am i to judge?

[tiedinbluetights]

Thanks for the comment @LunaDog! What can I say? I do enjoy "a certain satisfaction, in a little bit of pain," especially when it is my darling wife who is giving it to me and putting me "in a trance."

[beeblebrox883]

Thanks for sharing. Love the panty gag and the foot smelling. Looking forward to reading the next parts

[tiedinbluetights]

Thanks @beeblebrox883! New parts will be sporadic. Can't promise anything, but in honour of your user-tag, I just may create a predicament involving sunglasses that go completely dark at the worst possible times.

[LunaDog]

Thanks for the comment @LunaDog! What can I say? I do enjoy "a certain satisfaction, in a little bit of pain," especially when it is my darling wife who is giving it to me and putting me "in a trance."

And just WHO am i, to argue with you here, my good friend?

[tiedinbluetights]

#2: Heard, not seen; seen, not heard
(FF/M)

"Having fun?" asked a familiar feminine voice.

The voice was not my girlfriend's--actually, now my wife's--but that of her girlfriend's, Melanie. The voice was sweet, but I've never been able to associate a face to it. Every single time my wife, Lucille, had Melanie over, I was bound up to a dinning room chair, heavily gagged, and severely blindfolded. Tonight was no different.

Before Melanie arrived, Lucille and I had prepared a supper for two. After cleaning up, Lucille had asked that I change into my "chair-tie" outfit. I suspected that would be the case, when earlier in the morning Lucille had locked me into my custom fitted chastity cage with a custom spiked ring attachment at the base of the shaft. That extra spiked attachment was only ever used when Melanie would be over for supper--I was not going to have any of the meal I just helped prepare.

And so it was that just before the doorbell rang, announcing Melanie's arrival, I was already fully "mummified" to the chair, several pairs of my wife's ankle socks stuffed into my mouth, layers upon layers of microfoam tape holding them in place. A couple of more layers wrapped around my eyes, and then a locking padded leather blindfold atop all that, effectively cut out all light.

Any response I tried to make came out completely muffled, with the only sound being the slight creaking of the chair I was strapped to as I strained against the bindings. Yet again I would be denied sight of my wife's girlfriend. I wondered if Melanie cared that she never got to hear my voice? Apparently, my wife considers my voice very seductive; perhaps that's why I'm always heavily gagged in the presence of her girlfriend?

After a couple of more teasing remarks, reinforcing my utter helplessness, from both my wife and her girlfriend, I was quickly ignored. Melanie and Lucille went on the rest of the night, enjoying their meal, then watching some show on TV, before finally retiring both to the master bedroom for the night. But just before they retired, my own overnight amusement had to be ensured.

A shoe was taped to my nose with several more wraps of microfoam tape. The scent that assailed my nostrils was the familiar scent of my wife's feet.

"You're such a sweetie hubby for not minding having my girlfriend over," I hear my wife coo into my ears, as she, or perhaps Melanie, twists one of my nipples forcing me to inhale deeply. My private member swells and almost immediately meets the pain inflicted by the spikes.

"Sweet dreams!" I hear Melanie wish my way, as I hear their footsteps recede from me. My moans, from frustration and painful erections alike, will go unheard and unanswered all night, as I'm forced, yet again to just imagine, never to see, the delightful pleasures Lucille and Melanie will share ...

[BachelorInDistress]

An extra chastity cage attachment for the specific event of your wife's girlfriend visiting is quite the ingenious idea, haha

[tiedinbluetights]

An extra chastity cage attachment for the specific event of your wife's girlfriend visiting is quite the ingenious idea, haha

Thanks for the comment! Glad you liked the idea of that predicament.

[tiedinbluetights]

#3: Too cold? Too hot? Just right!
(F/M)

"Alright down there?" I heard my wife call out through the house's custom intercom, not that I could answer with anything other than a barely audible muffled "hmm hmm" which the microphone nevertheless picked up.

"Alright then! I'll check in on you in 20 minutes or so." I could then hear her footsteps move away on the hardwood floor above our unfinished basement where I lay mummified in a spandex mummy-bag between two support posts. My wife was kind enough to have had me lie down on a foam yoga mat so as to not press against the hard and cold concrete floor. Yet cold, very cold, I was.

With the intercom speaker now off, all I could hear was the soft hum of the two fans blowing cold air all over my mummified body. The spandex mummy-bag had internal sleeves and was thick, but not impervious to the ice cold water that was dripping onto the tops of my outstretched feet, deviously forced "en-pointe" with rope attached to a metal D at the toes of the bag and anchored off to one of the posts. A stiff leather head-harness with a padded blindfold was anchored off to the other post. A panel gag, holding my wife's stinky gym socks stuffed in my mouth, finished off my bound form. Rolling away, or pulling up my knees, was impossible. I was forced to endure the cold air blowing past me and the ice cold drip on my toes, the thin yoga mat and the occasional sound of my wife's voice over the intercom my only comforts.

And then, just as I was drifting into my meditative subspace, I heard the click. The fans stopped, and the the dripping subsided. The mechanism that controlled them was set on a 30-minute timer, and automatically switched on the next phase of my torment: two strategically placed space heaters. At first, the heat will be welcomed, but as my water drenched feet dry and soon begin to roast, but far enough away so as not to burn, I will feel hot, very hot, and sweaty in my spandex cocoon ...

Too cold, too hot, and round and round again, in a damp cool basement. Such sweet and inescapable 'torture' felt just right.

[tiedinbluetights]

#4: Tightly cinched; tightly hugged
(F/M)

"I don't want it to hurt you!" My wife's genuine, loving concern came through loud and clear, as usual when we talked out of character.

"I assure you, I can take it tighter. I love you! Please!"

"Alright then, you've asked for it!" With one foot firmly planted on the bedroom floor, the other pressing down on my upper back, as I lay face-down on our bed, wife gave a final firm tug on the laces of my corset, cinching it just a bit tighter, causing me to exhale a bit. A few seconds later, the laces were not only tied off in a knot, but also tucked away in a special sleeve, behind a folding back panel, part of this bespoke design that, once fully zipped up and locked, would render all the laces and front hooks completely inaccessible, and the corset itself inescapable.

"Get up and stand facing me! Slave!" my wife commanded, barely holding back a giggle.

With some difficulty, I managed to slide off the bed, the underbust corset almost completely preventing any bending at the waist. Facing my wife, she made sure the front basque hook and eyes were still well engaged before zipping up the front panel and locking it. Finally she took the two specially designed waist straps and cinched those tight as well, locking them together on the second to last grommet. I thought to myself eventually, I will be able to take all the way down to that final one!

"I've got to get ready for work now. Off you go with your chores, sweetie," she said slipping out of character again.

"Thanks my love, for everything you do," I replied. We kissed passionately, and all too briefly, as she eventually pushed me away. "I really have to get ready now. To your chores slave!"

As I turned around, and with much difficulty slipped on my ballet flats over my opaque and footed compression tights--my usual outfit on such occasions when I got a day off--my wife gave me a playful little whack on my rump. As my sweet wife would slave away at work, I would dutifully, albeit with some difficulty, clean the house, do laundry and dishes, and other house work.

I would not be allowed to tie myself up or gag myself; that was never allowed if I was alone with no one else at home. As for the chores, they are genuine and would be accomplished to her highest standards. The bespoke corset was her gift to me, for my love on bondage, a way for me to feel tied-up even while she was away. There would be no release till she returned; one prolonged tight and inescapable hug that would last all day long. And my gift to her was to be her loyal and ever loving slave-hubby, keeping our home, Her home and safe haven, clean and in top shape.

As I finished up drying the morning dishes, my wife was ready to leave. As we parted, after one more passionate kiss, she reminded me of the locked cabinet in our bedroom closet, and the combination to the lock that only she and a close friend of hers knew. "Remember; in case of emergency, call. Bye my love!"

"Bye my love!" and I closed the door behind her as she left for work, sealing myself in for a ten hour long tight hug.

[tiedinbluetights]

#5: Checkmate!
(F/M)

WARNING: this instalment has what some would consider a pretty intense CBT scene, and ends with implied breathplay. If either of those are not your cup of tea, skip this part.

"Knight takes pawn; that's a double check! You know what that means!" a devious smile forming on my wife's and captor's lovely face.

We were playing a home brewed variant of chess, which we called Femdom-chess, to be played between a Female dominant and her bound and gagged partner/captive. The game plays out as a normal chess game with a few modifications. (Readers should feel feel to modify the rules to their personal tastes!)

Mod #1: Which ever colour the bound player plays, that colour starts without their queen. Only one queen is allowed on the board, and that Queen is part of the pieces controlled by the dominant captor. A pawn that reaches the eight rank can only be promoted to a non-queen piece.

So once we had the board setup, I as the bound and gagged partner had to be trussed up properly for our game. On this occasion, my wife had me trussed up fully naked in our unfinished basement, hands tied together and anchored to a large support beam overhead, forcing me onto my tiptoes, with legs kept apart by a sturdy and strict 4-foot spreader bar, cuffed at the ankles. No yoga mat to keep my toes nicely cushioned against the sealed, yet very cold, concrete floor. As for the gag, a simple red ball gag with buckles fastened and locked behind my head, without any mouth stuffing, was all that she wanted on me this time.

Mod #2: Upon the dominant captor capturing a piece, she is to administer to her bound captive as many hits with her riding crop as the captured piece's worth in points. In the case of a pawn being captured, instead of riding crop hits, a nipple or both would get twisted for a few seconds.

The clatter of her red patent leather high heeled shoes, as she turned away from the chessboard and approached my vulnerable frame, was divine music to me ears, and only made my exposed member stand even more at attention. My wife stopped in front of me, her head just over mine, looking straight down into my eyes with a devilish smile. She then leaned in closer to one of my ears and whispered softly "given that it's also a double check, queen and knight, I want you to endure it the whole time." Walking out of sight, I hear her start rummaging through our toy chest. A few seconds later, with heels clattering on the concrete floor, she whirls back in sight, coy smile on her face, and a pair of adjustable tweezer nipple clamps dangling from a silk-gloved hand. Clamping them tight onto my exposed and sensitive nipples--sensitive from previous captured pieces, riding crop whacks and twists alike--all I could utter was a muffled "uhm" through my gag.

Mod #3: Upon a check or discovered check by the dominant, her bound partner is to be subjected to five minutes of tickle torture, as timed on the chess clock, short pauses not counting (for which the clock is also paused). If the check is from a queen or is a double check, that time doubles to ten minutes, unless the double check is from both the queen and another piece, in which case the time is quadrupled to 20 minutes. If the check results in a checkmate, this rule is superseded and replaced by Mod #6.

She walked over to the chess clock next to the board and set the timer to the 20-minute gong. Turning back to face me, silk-clad fingers wriggling in anticipation, she didn't hesitate to dig them into my exposed and outstretched armpits. Trussed up as I was, I could barely jostle around, unable to escape those merciless, soft, silken fingers. As drool started to drip down my mouth around the ball gag, my wife went to kneel down before me and started tickling my ribs and stomach. And then, suddenly, with one hand still tickling me, I felt the other tug on the chain connecting the nipple clamps, pinching them further.

From where I was bound, I could not see the time on the clock, but the clamps must have been on for at least a few minutes. Wondering how much more time I'd have to endure the clamps and tickling, I felt something she never had done before during our Femdom chess games! She started to take my member into her mouth! My body shook from intense pleasure, but then immediately followed by intense pain as the hand, still holding onto the chain, yanked hard, pulling the nipple clamps right off my very sore and sensitive nipples. Muffled cries of pain and delight, along with a gurgle of drool, flowed from my gagged mouth.

She pulled away, my member feeling the cool air of the basement yet remaining erect as ever. "Hush, my dear, sweet, tasty subby-hubby. No distracting noises during a chess match." She resumed tickling my armpits, and then back down again, taking me in while tickling my ribs. Every time I felt on the edge of cumming, she would pull away and resume tickling my armpits. As she would go back down again, she would sometimes pinch my sore nipples before resuming tickling my ribs. Unable to keep count of the times, all I could do is ride the waves of ecstasy and pain washing over me.

And then, the gong sounded. Tickling and nipple pinching stopped, as I stood on my tiptoes trussed up, sweaty and exhausted, and edged senseless. "Your turn to move, sweetie!"

Mod #4: On the bound player's turn, the dominant captor shall select a subset of candidate legal moves and announce them to her bound and gagged captive. The dominant captor need not announce all possible legal moves, only those she deems worthy of consideration. After five minutes of allowed reflection, the subset of candidate moves shall be re-announced, one at a time. The bound captive is to nod their head yes if they want to play that announced move, or shake their head no if they don't. If the bound captive's head is immobilized, preventing nodding or shaking, a single grunt will signify 'yes' and a double or triple grunt 'no'. If the bound captive refuses to play any of the moves announced, the dominant captor shall knee her bound captive nine times in the groin, and then play a move on his behalf. In the rare case that only one legal move is possible, that move shall simply be announced and played. In the case that no legal move is possible, the bound captive is considered checkmated, even if under normal rules the game would be considered a stalemate. Games can only end in checkmate, with the normally stalemated player considered checkmated. See Mod #6 for consequences of being checkmated.

"Oh oh my love! Seems like you only have one legal move available! You have to return your king back to king-one, but that will discover an attack by your rook on my queen. That's bad news for you I'm afraid!" I could hear and sense, if not see, her gleeful smile as she faced the board.

Mod #5: The bound player must always show the utmost respect towards his dominant captor and Queen! Any played legal move that results in the capture of a piece belonging to the dominant player shall result in an equal number of crop hits as if the captured piece had belonged to the bound player under Mod#2. Any played legal move that results in a check on the dominant captor's king shall result in a number of knees to the groin of the bound player as the point worth of the attacking piece. Any played legal move that results in an attack on the dominant captor's queen shall result in a number of kicks to the groin of the bound player as twice the point worth of the attacking piece. All this is carried out regardless of whether or not the dominant captor is checkmated as a result of the legal move.

I squirmed as much as I could, and meekly whimpered through my ball gag as she walked out of sight, heels clattering against the concrete floor, and then wheeled our large toy chest around, before comfortably sitting down on it facing me, positioning herself so as to be easily able to aim the pointed toe of either of her red patent leather high heeled shoes into my groin.

"I want you to cry out the number of each kick as I land it." Her sweet smile had faded into a mischievous and coy smirk, as the first kick landed.

"Oomph!" I grunted through my gag as pain shook my body. Yet, my cock remained erect, as I panted through my gag, unable to bend over and clutch myself, let alone brace myself against further strikes.

"Twomph!" came my gargled gagged grunt as the second kick landed. I couldn't even pay attention as to which of her clad feet was landing each kick, so intense the pain was already.

"Tromph! Fromph! Frimph!" came in three rapid volleys the next kicks, each as strong as the first two. My wife never let go of her gaze straight into my eyes. Even her mischievous smirk had gone, replaced by an angry frown, as if she had to force herself to see before her, not her loving submissive hubby who had wilfully consented to this game, but some evil monster deserving of this treatment.

Only half way through this torture, I was now heaving heavily through my gag, pain shaking my body uncontrollably. Intense burning and throbbing in my stomach and groin had finally caused my erection to fully subside, and like a frightened turtle, my flaccid little guy had shrunk down to near invisibility. My balls, however, were probably swollen judging by the throbbing pain.

"Swimph!" came the sixth kick, more powerful and painful than the last five as she kicked with both feet simultaneously.

Her frown now faded, as she stood up and slowly walked over to me. Grabbing my head on either side with her silk gloved hands, she asked me in a sweet gentle and concerned voice, "do you want me to stop? We don't have to go through with this rule, my love."

"Im mokay. Mplees flont flee blaad," I managed to mumble and gurgle. She went off to the side and grabbed a towel nearby with which she wiped my forehead and then wiped away the mixture of sweat, tears and drool from my cheeks and chin. Before heading back to sit down on the toy chest, she kissed me gently on my cleanly wiped brow.

"I love you," she said gently, as her left foot took aim and swung away.

"Swefemph!" I grunted. Her sweet smile had returned, and this kick was barely felt through my now intensely throbbing groin. She was now going easy on me, not that I would, or could, complain. To complain about how she decided to dish out on me our agreed upon tortures and torments would never cross my mind. My dominant wife was more than just that; she was everything to me.

"Weimph!" came the eight kick with her right foot; even gentler than the previous one. I was now able to focus on which foot did the kicking. "Mymph, twemph!" came the last two in quick succession. These were gentle enough, that to both my wife's and my surprise, my little soldier, although still quite flaccid, started to peak its head out again.

My wife got up, leaving the toy chest in front of me, as I heard her walk off to the side towards our secondary fridge we kept in the basement. The cool air of the basement became momentarily cooler as she opened up the freezer compartment and tossed over an ice-pack onto the toy chest.

Mod #6: Checkmate! Should the bound player deliver checkmate, within the bounds of the above rules, such a non-menial feat should be graciously honoured. In that case, the bound player shall immediately be freed and allowed to spend the rest of the evening as they see fit, including being shagged as they wish and even allowed to climax and cum ...

Alas, the ice pack on the toy chest, and my view of the chessboard confirmed an alternate outcome. Not an unpleasant outcome, as I would enjoy what would follow, but there would be no release for me tonight.

... However, in the case of the bound player being checkmated by his dominant captor, instead of receiving the prescribed tickle torture, the bound player shall have his chastity cage re-applied. Thereafter, the bound player shall be denied breathing rights for a number of seconds chosen by the dominant captor. Once breathing rights resume, bound player shall be re-positioned on his queen's bed, bound, ungagged, and queened, forced to perform cunnilingus to his queen's satisfaction, and thereupon remain bound till the morning after his queen awakes.

"Rook to king-rook-eight. Checkmate my love!"

[tiedinbluetights]

#6-1: A Special Tea Party; Damn these sunglasses ...
(F+/M)

A special nod to @beeblebrox883, whose UID inspired one element of this series (#6-1 to #6-8). I'm not sure @LunaDog if I can make something of your UID: werewolves came to mind, but ahem, that's not so much my cup of tea.


"Thump, thump, thump. Click-clack, click-clack." I could also hear the occasional muted laughter of the women upstairs as my wife had me stashed away in the basement, out of sight and out of mind. She was having a tea party for her friends--some from work and some she had made over the years at school and university. I had spent the entire morning and early afternoon helping her get everything ready for the mid-afternoon tea party, that would probably last well past supper time. Once everything was set, all that was left before her guests arrived was to have me out of the way. Usually, I'd be out with my own friends, but on this occasion, since most of her friends new of our kinky lifestyle, I was to be stashed away, yet still able to enjoy some of the tea that would be served.

And so there I was in the unfinished part of the basement again, bound and gagged. As for my tea, it was being served, one drop at a time through a feeder tube inserted through my panel gag and taped up mouth, which in turn was stuffed with my wife's panties she had worn earlier during the day. The tea was genuine tea, Lady Grey tea to be precise, but otherwise we had got the idea of this "panty tea" from a book we had read together when were younger and dating. The tea was getting cold.

"Click-clack, CLICK-CLACK..." someone was coming down the stairs! My heart started to race, and the special sunglasses my wife had bought me as a joke gift kicked in and went completely dark, effectively blindfolding me.

"Swoosh" I hear the curtain separating the finished form unfinished part of the basement part. "Oh my!" I hear exclaimed, followed by suppressed jovial feminine giggles. "So this is where Luce has you stashed away for the day. Still up to your kinky games I see? Don't mind me. I'm just passing through to use the spare bathroom as both the ones upstairs are currently taken. Perhaps we can chat a bit after!" her voice adds laughingly as I hear her heels clatter by past behind me and into the spare bathroom in the unfinished part of the basement, that still had a door that closes and locks, which the proprietor of that voice did close and lock, even though I was in no position to move, talk or even see. I even heard her turn on the working bathroom fan.

That voice must have been Amelie's, a friend my wife made during her studies at university. I will be quizzed later that evening by my wife Lucille, after all the guests have departed, as to in what order the women would come down to the basement and find me. With those damn specialized sunglasses going full opaque every time my pulse went above a certain level, I would not be able to identify them visually. Just as the sunglasses started to clear up a bit, I heard the basement bathroom door open behind me, heels clattering slowly and methodologically towards me, making my sunglasses go fully opaque again.

"Those sunglasses match the rest of your 'lounging on a patio look', even though it is quite silly in this damp basement."

Amelie--as far as I could ascertain by voice alone--was referring to how I was trussed up. I was indeed "lounging" on a patio lounge chair with armrests, wearing a white compression short-sleeved t-shirt, tucked into blue denim jeans. Bright lights hanging from the unfinished ceiling were keeping the dampness and coolness of the basement to a tolerable level. It was the rest of the scene that kept Amelie suppressing giggles, as her clattering heels against the concrete floor circled around me ...

(to be continued...)

[TiedupNick]

These shorts are great!!!!

[jone123]

Indeed these short posts are enjoyable to read, thank you.

and the fact that some of these are based on real life events makes it extra exciting

[guardian741]

Really enjoying these short stories! Fun, quick reads - and i love that your wife gives so much variety to your gags and punishments!
Which gag is the most unpleasant tasting?

[tiedinbluetights]

Wow! Thanks for the comments @TiedupNick, @jone123, and @guardian741! I will try to keep all the instalments short and sweet. Some basis in RL experiences I've had, but definitely embroidered and extrapolated well into the realm of fantasy! Pity that despite all our current technology (Bluetooth and multilayered polarizing filters, ...), no one, as far as I know, has actually built in RL the "Joo Janta 200 Super-Chromatic Peril Sensitive Sunglasses" (well ...'Excitement Sensitive'... in my case).

As for the question,

Really enjoying these short stories! Fun, quick reads - and i love that your wife gives so much variety to your gags and punishments!
Which gag is the most unpleasant tasting?

It would have to be her straight sweat-soaked panty gags (no mixing with teas or socks) after an hour jog. Unpleasant, but also delicious at the same time. Being very mindful of her hygiene, her gym socks rarely stink that much or taste significantly different from her clean ones. Summer time is the exception. And while I've fantasized just how her feet and socks might smell and taste like after days of wearing the same socks or tights in the same shoes without washing, she would never do that in RL, nor would I pester her about it. But I may just work it into one of these stories ...

[tiedinbluetights]

#6-2: A Special Tea Party; Damn these sunglasses ...
(F+/M)

The clattering of Amelie's heels finally stopped just off to my left side. From where she stood, she could probably see my full bondage predicament.

My bare arms were strapped to the armrests using several black zip-ties, palms facing down. Zip-ties diagonally across the top of of my hands prevented me from lifting my palms off the armrests. Another pair of zip-ties above my wrists and just below my elbows effectively pinned my forearms down. Next, two thick black leather belts, one around each of my biceps, were buckled tight. A long length of black nylon rope linked my bicep belts behind the back of the lounge chair, with each end of the rope looping around a metal D ring in either belt and then being pulled back again behind the lounge chair to the nearby basement support post and tied off there, preventing anything but the slightest twitches of my arms.

My torso fared no better, with thick black rope pinning my chest to the seat of the lounge chair, both just above my chest, near my underarms, and around my waist. The tightness, combined with the coolness of the basement, made my nipples stand erect, which Amelie would have probably noticed were trying to poke through my fitted white compression t-shirt.

"Those look deliciously mean on your feet," I heard her musing aloud as she resumed her pacing towards said feet. If she decided to tickle them, there would be no way for me to even squirm away in the slightest. My legs were held fast together and then strapped to the lounge chair with four thick lengths of red rope this time, to contrast with the blue denim; one around the thighs, one each around just above and just below my knees, and one around near my ankles. However, the "deliciously mean" part was how my feet, clearly covered in bright-pink ballet tights, were forced "en-pointe," ballerina style, by a pair of clearly visible ballet-splints my wife and I had ordered from a local kink shop. These were strapped on my tights-clad legs, with several locking buckled black leather straps from the tips of the toes to just below the knees, and hidden mostly by my blue jeans, but not for my exposed feet. A final zip-tie cinching the topmost part of the ballet splints together at the toes kept my feet effectively pinned as one.

"How painfully uncomfortable those must be for your poor man's feet. Allow me to check something." I braced myself for some inescapable tickles, but instead felt the rope near my ankles loosen and then fall away. I then felt each leg of my jeans pulled-up towards knees as much as she could. Cold fingers ran under several of the straps, and then pressed against various parts of my legs, methodically feeling for something.

"That's good circulation and muscle tone you have there. However, your legs and feet must have been on the verge of cramping. I can help out a bit with that." Amelie--it must be Amelie, I was certain now--as an orthopaedic surgeon from the local hospital, could not help herself but to make sure I was alright. She started to massage my legs and feet, without tickling them despite her cold fingers and my soft tights, around the locked straps of the ballet-splints.

"There you go. I need to head back upstairs soon, save Luce gets jealous that I'm spending too much time down here with here slave hubby. And we didn't even get to chat at all. Maybe next time."

I didn't know what we could chat about, given my gagged status. I felt my jeans being pulled back in place, and the rope being re-tied around my ankles, tighter actually than it was before. "I think it got a bit loose while you were having fun down here by yourself. And, not to disappoint ..." I tensed up as she started to tickle the parts of my very sensitive soles that were exposed through the splints, which incidentally also increased my intake of the now cold tea.

"Hmm, I should mention to Luce that your tea is nearly empty. A warm refill is in order me thinks. Perhaps we will get Melanie to serve it to you, hmm?" Amelie mused as she continued her tickles at my feet. My poor cock, caged in its chastity belt with the special Kali's teeth attachment at the base whenever my wife had female friends over, throbbed with pain as it started to swell at my wife's, never-seen-by-me, girlfriend's name. Plus, these damn sunglasses stayed fully darkened--I could only imagine how Amelie herself looked and enjoyed my predicament. Yet I felt in heaven.

"Enjoying this aren't you? I can tell by your heart rate monitor and blood oxygenation level." Amelie was referring to the monitor that was placed off to my right. A special watch-like device on my right wrist, between the zip-ties that held my right hand firmly pinned to its armrest, wirelessly relayed my heart rate to the monitor, which itself ran in silent mode and in turn relayed its information to an app on my wife's smartphone. A smaller device clipped onto my right hand's middle finger nail relayed blood oxygenation levels.

The tickling finally stopped, and I felt a couple of light taps on the top of my toes. "Ta-ta! Perhaps we will have more fun later?"

"CLICK-CLACK, Click-clack,” went her heels as Amelie walked back upstairs. All went very quiet for awhile then, and I couldn't make out any sound at all from upstairs. Only the hum of the fan from the basement bathroom behind me was audible. Suddenly, through the basement ceiling, I heard it. A guffaw of feminine voices, at my situation below them...

(to be continued...)

[milagros317]

#6-2 is my favorite so far! I love that he is totally helpless, tickled on his trapped feet, and unable to conceal that he enjoys it due to the medical monitors.

[tiedinbluetights]

#6-2 is my favorite so far! I love that he is totally helpless, tickled on his trapped feet, and unable to conceal that he enjoys it due to the medical monitors.

Wow! Thanks @milagros317 for your comment! I'm glad you really enjoyed these stories, especially the latest one. Means a lot!

[LunaDog]

I'm not sure @LunaDog if I can make something of your UID: werewolves came to mind, but ahem, that's not so much my cup of tea.

Let's just say, i've very much enjoyed reading the product of your pen ( or mouse ) very much here.

[tiedinbluetights]

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

[tiedinbluetights]

#6-3: A Special Tea Party; Damn these sunglasses ...
(F+/M)

"Click-Clack, thump-thump, thud-thud." It didn't take long until at least three pairs of feet, one in heels and the other two in flats or barefoot, came back down the stairs. Barely had my sunglasses started to clear up that here they were now fully opaque again! I was impressed by how fast they went fully dark, yet felt let down by how slowly they cleared up. Some joke of a gift!

"Oh wow! I just had to see it for myself!" said a female voice I never heard before. Someone new? I thought.

"Yeah, Luce's hubby is like that. He likes these games," said the familiar voice of Melanie, teasingly drawing out the word 'games.' She added, "I brought you some fresh tea! it's still Lady Grey!"

"Thud-thud" I heard her heavy footfalls against the concrete floor as she approached my left side where a bag hung, now empty of tea, from a roll stand. I heard Melanie clamp the feeder tube shut that fed through my panel gagged and taped-up mouth into the panty stuffing inside. Next, the roll stand rolled a bit as she repositioned it to refill the bag with tea. A few flicks of her finger against hard plastic and the sound of the clamp being released, resumed the flow of tea, piping hot, as it should be at first, but it wouldn't be long before the cool basement cooled it down too much for my taste.

A third voice, Amelie's, piped in--she must have been the one in heels as before. "Luce either sends him out or stashes him away, all bound-up and gagged, whenever we're over. This is Candice by the way, she works as a nurse in the urology department with your wife, Seb."

"A pleasure to make your ... acquaintance Mr. R______," said Candice. I could just imagine her blushing with a hand covering her lips, not that I could see anything with these damn self darkening sunglasses.

"It's 'Seb', or 'Subby-Seb', or just 'slave', when he's tied-up, for Luce's and our amusement," corrected Melanie.

"Oh, I couldn't. Not any more than I could call Dr. S______ ..."

"Please, call me Luce. Or Lucille if you prefer. You are now part of our little club of wardens, captors, and tormentresses of my slave-hubby here," interrupted my wife. So at least four of them were down here now. I couldn't tell if more were still upstairs, as I couldn't make out sounds with the four of them nearby and the sound of the bathroom fan behind me still going.

"Does he really enjoy being so cruelly treated?" Candice asked.

"He actually does not consider all this cruel. What was it he called it when we started dating? Ah yes, 'compassionate cruelty' he called it. He knows that I care deeply about him and wouldn't truly hurt him or cause permanent harm. No, he'd consider me not indulging in any of these bondage games we share as truly cruel. So I indulge."

"We indulge," added Melanie.

"Do you enjoy indulging him in these games? Do you get anything out of it?" asked Candice.

"I get a loving pliable husband in return, who gives me total control over all our finances, works hard when he has to, maintains our home both as a handyman and maid, and yet is my knight in shining armour or my typical run-of-the-mill husband/boyfriend/or partner, whenever I wish, in non-lifestyle circumstances. He will eventually even finish this part of the basement into a proper gym and playroom for our kinky games. I also get to explore freely, without fear of judgment or rejection, my own fantasies and desires, knowing that he'll always be supportive and there for me when I need him. He would move the stars for me, if he could. I've even discovered that I enjoy quite a bit most of the torments and tortures he's begged me to inflict upon him during our games. So yeah, I enjoy these games immensely, get plenty out of it, and, should I ever tire of my Seb, I'd only ever consider female led relationships moving forward."

My heart skipped a beat at hearing the possibility that my sweet wife would ever tire of me. But I promised her, years ago now, that I would always respect her choices and never hold her back from anything, even if she ever wanted to leave me. I wanted her to be as free as she desired, and never feel exclusively bound to me. In all our years together, Lucille has only ever taken on one additional lover above me--Melanie--and she has always made it clear to both of us that she would never leave either of us for the other. Judging by the tone of my wife's answer, she was surely just jesting, part of a mind game as I lay there bound and gagged, and vulnerable, as at least four women were having their discussion, with no possible interruptions from me.

"Your relationship would make an interesting case study for Madelaine's psychiatric department, eh Luce?" piped in Amelie.

"With whom? Me? Seb? Both of us?" countered Melanie.

"Now, now friends. We are all professionals and know it would be against the rules of our respective professional orders to treat our lovers and friends as our patients," remarked my wife. "Shall we go back upstairs and have more tea?"

"Uh, you said I was now part of the 'club' earlier. Does that mean I can try something with him?" Candice asked, a bit timidly from the sound of her voice.

"Within certain limits and boundaries, sure. What would you like to try?" quizzed my wife.

"I've been on my feet in these flats all day. Do you think it would be okay for me to rub my feet over his face and have him smell them?"

I heard the other three women laugh and my wife finally say "oh, he would love that, dear Candice. Here, why don't you take a seat here, take off your flats and stick your toes right up to his nose. Just make sure that whatever you do, his sunglasses stay put." Damn, was I ever going to get to see how my tormentresses looked?! More importantly, and selfishly to some extent, was I ever going to be able to visually confirm if any of my wife's friends also actually enjoyed tormenting me? Alas, for now, I'd have to be content with just audible cues.

By 'here,' my wife must have pointed to my legs, on my thighs, as I now felt a lithe body sit upon them. "Thump-thump" I heard Candice's flats hit the concrete floor on either side of me. She grabbed hold of my pinned arms on either armrest as she swung her feet into position and made contact with my face. Her feet reeked of a cheesy, vinegary, rotten pea smell combined with the typical smell of wet, sweaty nylons. The warmth and silky softness of her feet as she started to rub them around my face, and especially against my nose, confirmed that she was wearing some type of nylon based hosiery.

"Oh, that does feel good, and tickles a bit too!" exclaimed Candice.

"Tickles you say. Now our slave knows better than to tickle one of his tormentresses. Amelie, would you care to rectify that?" ordered my wife.

"Of course, Luce. My pleasure." Almost immediately, I felt Amelie's fingers tickle the exposed parts of my soles once more through the ballet-splints. My body tensed and the lounge chair started shaking a bit as I tried in vain to squirm away.

"Hee hee! His breath tickles even more now," Candice remarked.

"Let me try to remedy that," interjected Melanie. I heard her take position behind the support post that pinned my biceps and the back of the lounge chair. Suddenly, long slender fingers dug into my armpits, making the lounge chair squeak and shake even more. My poor cock, hidden away out of sight under denim jeans and ballerina tights, was now painfully straining against its spiked metal teeth lined chastity cage.

"Ooh! It still tickles!" Candice's young voice piped.

"Okay, he's asked for it now!" My wife's commanding voice came through loud and clear with a menacing tone to it ...

(to be continued...)

[milagros317]

A wonderful ending, and I hope it means serious tickle-torture to come from all the women.

[beeblebrox883]

Great continuation of the story.