She's Full of Surprises (M/F) Part 8 added 5.15.23

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She's Full of Surprises (M/F) Part 8 added 5.15.23

Post by OldTUGger »

Getting reacquainted with Diana has been the wildest experience of my life.

I bumped into my old flame – literally – at a local Walmart. https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.ph ... ing#p76783 It didn’t take long to discover that she’d changed a bit in the 41 years we’d been apart.

Oh, she still looked young. In fact, apart from her snow-white hair, she might well have been the lithe, willowy coed I fell for during our time in college. Her bright blue eyes still sparkled when she spoke, and the lovely contours of her face remained miraculously free of wrinkles.

What had changed was her attitude toward being tied up. On our first official “date” after becoming reacquainted, she floored me by confessing that she had developed a fondness for being bound, gagged and otherwise rendered helpless.

You could have knocked me over with a feather. During our youthful courtship, I had tried several times to tie her, but succeeded only once. We broke up for other reasons, but in the back of my mind I always suspected she grew leery of my repeated attempts. Idiot! If you hadn’t come on like some kind of pervert, she might have stayed with you! I thought.

All that angst melted away in a heartbeat when Diana revealed that she and her late husband had gotten big-time into bondage. We spent the rest of that magical evening exploring the depths of our shared kink, and not long after that we decided to sell our big, half-empty houses and buy one more befitting a pair of spry senior citizens.

That’s when the fun really started.

Diana wouldn’t let me touch several of the boxes that contained her belongings. “Trust me,” she said. “You’ll enjoy these things best when you first see them on me – and see me in them.”

I didn’t have to wait long to learn what she meant. The first day after our move, I arrived home to a surprisingly silent house. Diana wasn’t on the first floor, and she wasn’t upstairs either. At that point I figured she was in the basement, either unpacking or doing laundry.

I opened the door to the basement and started down the stairs. The washer and dryer weren’t running.

“Diana? You down here?”

I reached the bottom of the stairs and peered back into the dark corner of the basement where we’d stacked our “to be unpacked” boxes. There she hung, upside-down, on one of those inversion-therapy contraptions.

She clearly wasn’t just stretching out her spine. A leather blindfold covered her eyes, and a ball gag filled her mouth. She had cuffed her wrists overhead to the top – now the bottom – of the inversion frame. She hung from her ankles, both latched securely into the inversion boots almost shoulder-width apart. I probably should add that she was stark naked.

“Well, well, what have we here?” I asked as I strolled toward her. She giggled and flared her hands as if to say, “You tell me.”

When I got within a couple of steps, she signaled for me to stop and pointed, first to a little table she’d set up beside the inversion frame and then to a note card taped to the bottom -- now the top -- of the inversion frame.

“Apply here,” the note card said, with an arrow that pointed directly downward, toward the blonde curls that adorned her mons veneris.

I picked up the Hitachi from the table and switched it on.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” I asked, as I pressed the wand to the location she requested. I took her soft moan as a “yes.”

To be continued…
Last edited by OldTUGger 10 months ago, edited 10 times in total.
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Post by slackywacky »

I always imagined to be tied to one of those inversion pieces. Now you have me waiting (and wanting) for the next chapter. Please continue (even if nobody reacted in three weeks).
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Part 2


“You’re thinking about something,” Diana said. “May I ask what it is?”

Her voice broke my reverie. She was right; I had been deep in thought -- deep in curiosity, in fact.

“I can’t help but wonder what else you have in those boxes downstairs,” I replied. “Our little scene with the inversion frame took me completely off-guard. What’s next? A rack?”

“Not until next week,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t want to show you how kinky I am too soon. We haven’t been together long, and I don’t want to scare you away.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” I replied, gesturing for her to sit on my lap. “Never in my wildest dreams would I have believed you’d want to hang upside-down, ball-gagged, while someone forced four orgasms out of you with a vibrator.”

“Five,” she corrected, kissing me softly on one cheek.

“A thousand pardons, Madame, my powers of observation must be slipping.”

Diana smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Then maybe I need to come up with something that’ll focus your attention a little better,” she said.

“You’ve piqued my curiosity,” I replied. “Now show me.”

She stood up. “Let me go fetch some things. I’ll be right back.”

I sat there, listening to her footsteps as she made a quick trip to the basement and then to our bedroom. Several minutes later, I heard the bedroom door open, followed closely by the distinctive click-click of heels on the hardwood floor.

She appeared in the doorway, a vision in black from the toes of her skin-tight skyscraper-heeled knee boots to the tips of her wet-look black opera gloves. A shiny Spandex catsuit accentuated every gentle curve in between, save her midriff, where a black leather corset covered the ebony fabric. Diana stepped forward, one hand clearly hiding something behind her back, looking every bit like a haughty dominatrix as she approached the sofa.

I half expected that hidden hand to hold a riding crop, a single-tail whip or some similar instrument of dominance. Instead, she produced a wide leather collar and knelt, head bowed, arms extended, offering the collar -- and herself -- to me.

I took the collar from her gloved hands and gently buckled it around her slender neck. She looked up at me, eyes shining, and smiled.

“You have my full attention, Milady,” I said.

“Now that I have your attention, what are you going to do with me? Tie me up and put me in my place?”

“Most certainly. What color?”

Early on in our renewed relationship, I had showed Diana my somewhat extensive collection of Chromaknotz nylon rope. She marveled at the sheer amount -- more than 3,000 feet -- and at the veritable kaleidoscope of brilliant, saturated colors.

“Burgundy,” she replied.

"Good choice."

Twenty minutes later, I stared down at my willing captive, reveling in the sheer beauty of her bound form.

She lay, belly-down, in a strict reverse-prayer hogtie. Her fingers fluttered uselessly at the nape of her neck. A web of ropes pinned her upper arms to her sides, molding her entire upper body into a single unit.

I had frog-tied her legs, then pulled her knees wide apart by tying the tag ends of the frog-tie ropes to D-rings on each side of the bed.

Another rope, threaded through the top D-ring of a harness gag, pulled her head back sharply. The gag’s O-ring held her mouth wide open. Saliva trickled over her lower lip and dripped onto the bedsheets.

Never one to pass up an opportunity, I had started the scene by unzipping the crotch of Diana’s catsuit, exposing the tumescent treasure nestled within. With a full 30-foot length of the burgundy rope, I then fashioned a Hitachi harness that pressed the vibrator’s bulbous head squarely onto her pleasure center.

And now, with my love fully rigged and awaiting my touch, I switched the Hitachi on “low” and knelt at the head of the bead, legs spread. Diana’s pale blue eyes glittered as I pulled down my shorts.

“I see I have your attention,” I said teasingly as she took in the sight of my erection. “I would say, ‘Open wide,’ but given your circumstances, that might be a bit redundant.”

To be continued…
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Post by Beaumains »

Good story. Diana knows what she will and the main character will surely give her that. I can only hope she has many more unopened boxes
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Post by slackywacky »

Okay, 2 things...

1. Glad you're back writing!
2. Where the hell is my dictionary... "exposing the tumescent treasure nestled within" :lol: Nice way with words.

Very nice addition to the story. Would love to try that hogtie (but I am not that flexible). Oh well, a man can dream...
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Post by silvertejp590 »

OldTUGger wrote: 2 years ago She appeared in the doorway, a vision in black from the toes of her skin-tight skyscraper-heeled knee boots to the tips of her wet-look black opera gloves. A shiny Spandex catsuit accentuated every gentle curve in between, save her midriff, where a black leather corset covered the ebony fabric. Diana stepped forward, one hand clearly hiding something behind her back, looking every bit like a haughty dominatrix as she approached the sofa.
I love the descriptions in this paragraph so much. Great work! Hope to see some more.
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Part 3

For the last twenty minutes, Diana’s breaths had come in a series of shuddering gasps.

The reason lay between her trembling thighs -- a tight crotch rope fashioned from hard round-braided leather. For almost the past half-hour, my hand had been tracing the taut line it formed between her waist and her nether regions.

To begin this particular pass, I took my hand off her naked backside and, with intentionally agonizing slowness, dragged my middle fingernail along the slightly raised braids so that the passage of every single nubbin transmitted a tiny shock wave through the tightly stretched leather, between her cheeks and onward toward her seriously aroused pleasure center.

Early on, such deliberate sensual torment had triggered a pleasant series of breathy sighs and throaty moans. With each passing minute, however, Diana’s muffled utterings had grown increasingly plaintive and desperate.

Had she been able to reach the cord, I’m sure she would have wiggled it and triggered her long-delayed climax. That wasn’t possible.
I had bound her in a hogtie, one of her favorite positions. But this hogtie had taken quite a while to rig, and Diana had been in it for what seemed, to her, twice that long.

Her legs were welded together with four tightly cinched bands of rope around her thighs and four more between her knees and her ankles. A hogtie rope connected her ankle bonds to the shoulder yoke of her chest harness, so tightly that her knees and shoulders were raised off the bed. Her hands fluttered uselessly behind her; I had crossed her wrists well up on her back and bound them to the chest harness. Strategically placed knots on the harness' ropes pressed on her sensitized nipples.

The coup de grâce, though — the single component of her bondage that rendered her practically immobile — was the length of paracord I had tied around her short blonde ponytail and, after stretching the cord piano string-tight, bound her big toes together with it.

Diana might have complained, but she knew full well her words would come out as unintelligible grunts. I had layered a ball gag, her favorite, under an entire roll of vet wrap and several turns of duct tape. Soft mews and grunts were all she could produce.

She also might have been able to plead for release with puppy-dog eyes, but that was impossible, too. A tight black satin blindfold covered those beautiful blue orbs, and another taut length of paracord -- strung between the blindfold’s knot and her big toes -- held her head rigidly erect.

My fingernail retraced its deliberate path back up the crotch rope. Diana’s breathing, already rapid, quickened again. She shuddered once more.

I chuckled, imagining what her mind might be screaming: Turn me over, cut these bonds and take me!!!

My fingernail, unheeding, continued on its slow and purposeful path.
Last edited by OldTUGger 1 year ago, edited 2 times in total.
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Post by slackywacky »

(setting air conditioning to high, turning on all fans in the room)

WOW, that was HOT. Glad you added to this story. Even if your previous post was a little while, just a teeny bit, ago, glad you wrote some more. Diana sure loves what she is getting ;)

Try not to wait 11 month before posting again to this tale (i.e. try to stay out of prison/hospital/... or whatever else delayed you) :lol:
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Post by OldTUGger »

slackywacky wrote: 1 year ago Try not to wait 11 month before posting again to this tale (i.e. try to stay out of prison/hospital/... or whatever else delayed you) :lol:
Thanks for the kind words, Slacky! You don't know how prescient your words were. I've spent much of the last 10 months recuperating from a really bad case of COVID. I'll try to post more often; I'm having fun with this series.
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Post by slackywacky »

OldTUGger wrote: 1 year ago really bad case of COVID
Not everybody gets away with 2 days of a cough and sore throat. But good to hear you are feeling better. And glad to see you post again.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
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Post by Mask6190 »

Good to see you're back again, and feeling better :D
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Post by wolfman »

Good to see you back.

Congratulatuons on your recovery and thank you for this wonderful chapter
View my latest story, Revelation, here;

https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=17&t=8719


To view it's prequel Devastation, please click below;
https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=17&t=7458
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Post by OldTUGger »

Part 4


A rather sizable box on the coffee table, topped by an absurdly large bow, caught my attention the moment I walked into the living room.

“Open me, please,” read a card attached to the box.

I chuckled and shook my head. Ever since Diana and I rekindled our long-dormant romance, she had conjured up increasingly clever ways to get herself bound, gagged, blindfolded, teased, tormented and driven to dizzying heights of sexual satisfaction. The contents of this box, no doubt, would take us down that delightful path yet again.

I lifted the cover off the box. Sure enough, a note lay inside: “Slave kit. Apply to the next senior citizen you encounter.”

Under the note lay a jumbled assortment of gear, presumably designed for restraint and pleasure.

The sound of Diana’s voice, low and sultry, drew my gaze toward the door: “Well, what do you think?”

“I think you’re a randy little minx who needs to be taught a lesson,” I replied. “Perhaps an evening as someone’s sex slave will put you back on the straight and narrow.”

“I’m not really dressed for such an occasion,” she countered, sticking out her tongue.

“Then get undressed.”

She grinned, then stepped ouy of view into the hallway. I was just about to go after her when I saw one of her sneakers fly into the living room. I stopped, anticipating what might come next. Sure enough, a sock soon appeared, dangling from her fingers. She waved it back of forth a couple of times, slowly, then let it drop to the floor.

I stood there, spellbound, as my lovely mate performed a strip-tease just out of my view, dropping each item of clothing atop the one that came before. A long, long second after her panties joined the pile of apparel, she once again stepped into the doorway. Slowly, gracefully, she pirouetted, the tanned skin of her slender body glowing in the warm light of the living-room lamps.

“And what do you wish of your slave?” she asked.

“I wish she were kneeling here in front of me.”

“And what shall happen to her then?”

“I think you know,” I replied in my smuggest master-knows-all voice. “She shall be placed in restraints befitting a slave.”

“As you wish, sir,” she said as she knelt, head bowed, wrists held before her as though to receive cuffs.

Only then did I look back into the box to take inventory on what lay within. My jaw dropped. Was that a -- a chastity belt?

Indeed it was, and an expensive one at that! Stainless steel, of the Tollyboy design. Two impressively large attachments protruded from the belt’s crotch-band -- one designed to go in Diana’s front entrance and one in her rear. Each attachment sported a soft wire antenna.

“Impressive,” I said, doing my darnedest to appear bemused and nonchalant as I lifted the belt from the box. “Given your somewhat insatiable nature, I’m sure this becomes necessary at times.”

“You have no idea how necessary, sir,” she replied meekly. “Not only does your slave wish to have her humble desires fulfilled, she also wishes to have her humble orifices filled full.”

I had never placed a woman in a chastity belt before, but as it turned out, both of Diana’s “humble orifices” were thoroughly pre-lubricated. The belt slid on and the plugs slid in as though they were made for her, which they clearly had been.

Her slave cuffs came next. Fashioned of thick stainless steel, the hinged semicircles closed snugly around her wrists and ankles. They didn’t lock; instead, they secured by driving home small hex-head set screws. The stainless collar, which sat heavily on her collarbones, fastened similarly. Small loops on the cuffs and collar served as attachment points for lengths of steel chain, which I happily padlocked in place.

Fully secured, head bowed in submission, Diana stood before me, her wrists cuffed close together in front. The chain between her ankles allowed her to take only small, shuffling steps. Another chain, just long enough to stretch between her shackled wrists and the ankle-chain, prevented her from lifting her hands above her waist.

“I seem to be well and truly secured, sir,” she said.

“Almost.”

She looked at me quizzically as I pulled two more small padlocks and a slightly longer length of chain from the box.

“Stand up straight.” Stepping behind her, I locked one end of the chain to the loop on the rear of her collar, and, after carefully pulling the chain taut, locked its other end to a loop on the back of the chastity belt.

“Thou art truly a bastard -- sir,” she said with a grin. “I can’t bend forward or backward.”

“Silence, wench,” I replied, and enforced my order by stuffing a rather substantial penis-gag into her sassy mouth. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

It took only seconds to retrieve the objects I sought -- a pair of weighted clamps that I hung from her pert, erect nipples.

With her bondage thus complete, I reached into the box and switched on the remote controls for the chastity-belt plugs. She squeaked as the vibrators hummed to life.

“And surprise, surprise,” I said smugly, as I pulled another remote from my pocket and pushed its button. “The nipple clamps vibrate, too. I think I’ll play a bit with these controls and see how long you last before your knees go weak.”

Her slave-chains jingled as the vibrations pulsed through her body. Her bright blue eyes, widening with excitement, gave me the smile her thoroughly plugged mouth could not.

To be continued...
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Post by OldTUGger »

Part 5


Turnabout is fair play, right?

In the first few weeks of our rekindled romance, it seemed Diana had a new bondage-related surprise for me at least a couple of times a week and sometimes more often than that.

Don’t get me wrong. I hadn’t become tired of her surprises; far from it, in fact. Basically, I just wanted to show her that I had some surprises up my sleeve, too.

So, one afternoon when she was preoccupied with some sort of household chore, I slipped into our bedroom and made preparations for the evening’s “festivities.” I had no idea that it would take an hour to position and properly tension twenty ratchet straps, but it did. Fortunately, my bondage-minded bride remained busy just long enough for me to put everything in place.

After I finished, I wrote a note: “Do Not Enter! Pleasant surprise inside,” closed the door and taped the note to it.

A short while later, as I sat in the den watching a college football game, Diana came in and plopped down next to me. “I see you have a surprise in store for me,” she said as she snuggled up to my side.

“You didn’t peek, did you?” I asked.

“Nope. But I’m up for whatever you have in mind.”

“You might regret you said that.”

“Try me.”

“I would, but you’re wearing too many clothes.”

After a quick glance around to make sure the draperies were drawn, Diana took to that challenge with aplomb. She untied her sneakers, slipped the shoes off her feet, and made quite a show out of twisting the shoelaces around her slender wrists and holding her hands behind her back. She shimmied out of her T-shirt, twirled it around her head a couple of times, and sent it sailing toward the kitchen. She plopped down onto my lap, threw her legs up over my shoulders and, grinding her firm little hindquarters against the bulge in my pants, reached up and flicked off her socks. She then reached down and slowly unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. Only then did she dismount me and shimmy slowly, sexily out of the snug denim.

Now clad only in her bra and panties, she straddled me again, this time on her knees so that her mons veneris hovered pretty much in front of my nose. Never one to pass up an invitation, I grabbed the waistband of her panties with my teeth and pulled downward, nuzzling her nether regions and drinking in her scent.
Reaching behind her back, she unclasped her bra and shrugged it off. I’m not quite sure what happened next, whether she shed her panties or if I pulled them off her. Suffice to say she posed there in unclad glory for a few delicious moments before she dropped to her knees, bowed her head submissively and placed her hands behind her back.

“What do you have in store for me, sir?” she asked meekly.

“After that exhibition, I think I need to show you the meaning of ‘restraint,’” I said teasingly. “Don’t move.”

From the end-table drawer beside my easy chair, I retrieved the two lengths of paracord and the leather blindfold I’d placed there earlier. A few minutes later, I tossed my bound and blindfolded bride over my right shoulder and carried her off to the bedroom.

“So what’s this big surprise all about?” she asked after I sat her on one of the bed’s corners.

“That’s for you to feel and not see,” I replied as I untied her wrists and ankles. “Here, let me put you into position.”

I lifted Diana to the center of the bed, then had her lie back with her head on a pillow. “Give me your left hand,” I ordered.

I laid her wrist into a padded leather cuff and buckled it closed.

“These are new,” she remarked. “nice and comfy.”

“That’s the deerskin lining,” I said. “Super-soft, and it beats the heck out of faux fur.” I continued around the bed, fastening straps around her other wrist, her upper arms, her thighs and her ankles. A posture collar, molded to the shape of her slender neck, came next. Finally, I buckled a soft leather belt around her waist, tightly enough to oh-so-slightly restrict her breathing.

“Try to move,” I suggested, gazing lecherously at her tautly spreadeagled form.

“Uh…I can’t.”

“That’s because each of those cuffs is secured to at least two ratchet straps, each of which prevents you from moving in any given direction. It’s a setup I copied from a guy who specializes in tickling his victims.”

Diana’s body stiffened. “That’s what this is about? You’re going to tickle me?”

“Maybe a little. But mostly I’m going to tease and torment you until you’re a quivering puddle of girl-goo. Open wide.”

A Jennings-style dental gag completed her bondage. Lobes on its steel frame hooked behind her upper and lower teeth, and a ratchet mechanism held her mouth wide open.

“And now, my dear, your body is mine,” I said in my best movie-villain voice. “Now, where shall I begin?”

The next two hours seemed to fly by. Well, at least for me. You’d have to ask Diana how time passes when spent in rigid bondage, with your lover kissing, nibbling, sucking and licking every erogenous zone your body offers. If I were to guess, though, I’d say her contented moans and sighs signaled that time passed by rather quickly for her, too.

Her breathing became more rapid, and her vocalizations took on a desperate, pleading tone. When it seemed that she could take no more, I unbuckled her ankle and thigh cuffs and claimed the space between her long, slender legs.

You can imagine what came next; those long, slender legs grabbed my hips in a viselike grip and pulled me in. Our bodies settled into a rhythm, one as old as humankind itself, a rhythm that increased in tempo until at last our loins pulsed in blissful, mutual satisfaction.

“Nice surprise,” Diana said after I removed her gag. “Do you have any other tricks up your sleeve?”

“Maybe,” I replied slyly.

“Well, then, it’s my turn to surprise you,” she countered. “I think I have something that might pique your interest.”

But that, dear reader, is a tale best told on another day…


To be continued...
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Post by OldTUGger »

Part 6


“Would you…tie me like that?”

Diana handed me a piece of paper with a screenshot printed on it. I looked at it, blinked a couple of times, and looked back at her.

“Are you sure? It’s not going to be comfortable. In fact, it might get downright painful.”

“I think I can handle it. I’m at least as limber as the girl on the video I just watched, and she was able to stay tied up that way for almost half an hour.”

I pondered for a moment, then replied, “Do you mind if I watch the video first? That way, I’ll be able to see how the tie is constructed.”

“Sure. We’ll watch it together.” She trotted off toward our home office, and returned several minutes later carrying her laptop in one hand and two pairs of Irish 8 cuffs in the other. Perhaps I should also mention that she was stark naked.

She sat the laptop down on the coffee table, handed the cuffs to me, and turned around and waited for me to apply the restraints. One pair of cuffs locked her hands together behind her back. The other fastened her ankles closely together.

“What? No gag this time?” I joked as she snuggled up beside me on the sofa.

“That is for you to decide, Sir,” she replied.

I reached forward and tapped the touchscreen to start the video. Clearly, the man doing the tying believed in the motto, ‘More is better.’” He started by tying the model’s hands behind her back with what looked like cotton clothesline.

He then moved down to her upper thighs. He cinched the first two-column tie just below her crotch before moving methodically downward, wrapping and cinching every two to three inches all the way to the model’s ankles.

He then moved back to her upper body. After pushing her elbows together, he bound her upper arms to make sure those elbows stayed in close company. One thing I noticed about his tying style is that he used about two to three times as many wraps per body part as I was used to applying. Where I would put four wraps, he would put ten or twelve. After he knotted off each part of the tie, he snipped the tag ends of the cord to keep things neat.

All the time Diana and I watched, she whispered into my ear all the things I could expect to do to her after I tied her like that. Frankly, I didn’t see how. By the time the guy on the video finished trussing up his model, hardly an inch of skin showed anywhere.

“Are you noticing anything about the model?” I asked Diana after the tie was complete and the model began straining against her bonds.

“Like what?”

“Well, she’s whimpering and crying and clearly in pain, just for starters. And she’s a professional bondage model who gets tied a lot more than you do. Not to mention that she’s thirty years younger than you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Diana said cheerily. “You’re pretty good at this tying stuff. I know I’m in capable hands.”

“It’s your funeral,” I said with a shrug.

“Don’t say, ‘funeral’ to a sixty-some year-old,” she countered as she shifted upward to kiss me on my cheek.

“Forgive me, madame.” I answered her playful kiss with one placed squarely on her lips. “When do you want to do this?”

“How about now? I have a whole box full of clothesline downstairs with my other kink stuff.”

“Okay, then. Looks like you’ve thought of everything.” I picked her up, cradled her in my arms and carried her to our little basement “dungeon,” where I stood her up against a steel support column while I looked for her clothesline stash.

“Fair warning, Diana. I’m going to do this a little differently. The guy who made the video had a rope around his model’s neck to force her to stand upright. There’s no flippin’ way I’m going to do that to you.”

Instead, I ran a long strand of rope under her armpits and over her shoulders to form a yoke, which I then attached to the ceiling.

“See there? If you slip, you’ll be supported by your armpits and not your neck,” I said.

“Works for me. I’m not into asphyxiation scenes,” she replied.

“I’m also not going to stuff an entire car-cleaning sponge into your mouth like the guy in the video did. I’m not letting you off very easy, though. Open really wide.”

From one of the toy boxes, I selected the biggest ball gag in our inventory and buckled it tightly at the nape of her slender neck. After applying a vicious multi-strand crotch rope, I worked my way down her legs as seen in the video. Fifteen minutes later, I stepped back to check my handiwork. Her legs looked almost like they were encased in thigh-to-ankle casts.

“Doing OK?” I asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded.

With Diana’s legs all done up, I next moved to her arms. After lashing her elbows together, I w wrapped down her forearms to her cuffs, which I removed and replaced with tightly cinched turns of clothesline.

I continued wrapping her upper body, crisscrossing her chest and wrapping band after band of rope from just below her shoulders all the way to her waist.

“Still OK?” I asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” she grunted, a bit strained this time.

I stepped back to take in the view. Apart from her breasts, which I left uncovered, her upper body appeared to be encased in white rope.

I untied the rope that tethered Diana’s yoke to the ceiling. Slowly and carefully, I lowered her to the floor and laid her gently on her tummy.

Frankly, I’m not proud of how hard I pulled on the hogtie ropes, but Diana had insisted she wanted to be arched backward as far as her body would allow. Unfortunately for her, that aging body still allowed quite a lot.

By the time I finished running a second taut hogtie line between the gag strap and her big toes, Diana’s breathing had become quite rapid. I looked into her eyes and saw that tears had started to form.

“Need out?” I asked.

“Nnn-nnn.”

“Snap your fingers if you need to tap out.” I rolled my bound bride onto her side, attached clover clamps to each of her exposed nipples, and tied the clamps’ chain to a support column with a piece of elastic string.

“All done. Let’s see how long you can stay like that.”

Through sheer determination -- and quite to my surprise -- she stayed in that ridiculous hogtie for nearly 10 more minutes. As soon as she snapped her fingers, I attacked her bonds with paramedic shears. Less than a minute later, covered in rope marks and sweat, Diana lay exhausted on the floor with pieces of rope scattered haphazardly around.

“Are you going to be OK?” I asked, cradling her head in my lap and stroking her white hair.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “All my parts move and there’s color in all my extremities.”

“Bet you’ll be sore tomorrow.”

“For sure. But before I stiffen up, I want you to…” She whispered the rest into my ear.

Without a word, I locked a pair of Irish 8s back on her wrists and carried her upstairs toward our bedroom.


To be continued...
Links to all of my stories can be found here in the Story Catalog: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=46&t=6023
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Post by GreyLord »

It is nice that you posted and brought this back to the front page. I have no idea why I missed an earlier posting but now I have happily read the whole thing. This is a very happy read.
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Post by slackywacky »

So good to see a post from you (and not just a comment on one of my stories). This story is a great read and deserves the attention from others.
OldTUGger wrote: 1 year ago Perhaps I should also mention that she was stark naked.
DUH!
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
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Post by Mask6190 »

An excellent chapter OldTUGger!
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Post by OldTUGger »

@GreyLord @slackywacky @Mask6190 Thanks, guys! I appreciate the kind words and encouragement!
Links to all of my stories can be found here in the Story Catalog: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=46&t=6023
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Post by OldTUGger »

Part 7


“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it safely,” I said, furrowing my eyebrows and looking straight into Diana’s lovely blue eyes. “Choose your safeword.”

“Antidisestablishmentarianism,” she countered with a cheeky smile.

“Nice try. Remember, you’re going to be gagged.”

“How about three sharp grunts? Nnh! Nnh! Nnh!”

“That’s better. If you need to go to the bathroom, now’s the time to do it. You’re going to be stuck for quite a while.” She nodded and trotted off toward the bathroom.

I watched her pert, naked backside as she made her way down the hall. You’ve got to be the luckiest senior citizen on the planet, I mused. Sixty-six years old, and she still has pretty much the same body she had at twenty!

What I didn’t add was that, in the decades we’d been apart, Diana had become a wild-eyed bondage fanatic. If she wasn’t surprising me by showing up in exotic outfits and restraints from her seemingly endless collection, she was surprising me by dreaming up ever-more-elaborate ways for me to restrain her.

This, in turn, prompted me to find ever-more-clever ways to reciprocate. This day’s session, for example, sprang from a not-so-casual observation she had made to me a couple of weeks before. “You know, Jay, as many times as I’ve been tied up, chained up, strapped up and otherwise restrained, I’ve never been mummified.”

“Be nice to me and it might happen,” I said, cupping and fondling one of her small but firm breasts with one hand and exploring her girly bits with the other.

She wriggled away from my grasp and dove under the bedclothes, which is no small feat when your your wrists and ankles are tightly bound. Before I could react, I felt her lips around my already half-aroused equipment. Suffice to say she didn’t let it stay half-aroused for long.

So now, two weeks later, I took final inventory of the supplies I’d gathered for an attempt to create the Mother of All Mummifications. By the time I finished, I wanted Diana to be more helpless than she’d ever been.

“OK, I’m ready,” she said as she strolled back into the bedroom.

“We’ll see,” I said with a smirk.

“Do your worst, big boy,” she said in a husky Mae West voice.

“First, the preliminary wraps,” I said, taking Diana’s hand and guiding her to a spot near the bed where the mummification supplies were arrayed. “Make a fist.”

It took only a couple of minutes to encase her fists in two or three layers of vet wrap. I seated her on the bed and did the same for her feet.

“Lie down on the plank,” I said, gesturing to the 2-by-8 board that formed a six-foot bridge between two sturdy chairs. Starting at her ankles, I wrapped upward, overlapping as I went so every square inch was covered by at least three turns of the stretch fabric. I stopped at the tops of her thighs long enough to wedge the bulbous head of a battery vibrator against her pleasure center.

“I can tell right now, this is going to be a wild ride,” she said in an admiring voice.

After wrapping the vibrator in place, I proceeded upward, binding Diana’s hips and lower torso to the plank.

“Hands behind your back, under the board,” I directed. Sliding under the plank like an auto mechanic, I bound her wrists tightly with paracord.

A pair of lightly weighted nipple clamps came next. I taped the clamps in place with patches of microfoam tape, then spend the next several minutes encasing my bride’s breasts, upper torso, upper arms and shoulders in layer after layer of vet wrap.

“Wow, I’m really stuck,” Diana observed. “All I can do is move my head and wiggle my feet.”

“Not for long, dearest,” I replied, kissing her lightly on the lips. “The really good parts come next.”

I buckled a tall leather collar around Diana’s neck and continued wrapping upward. By the time I finished, the stretchy black fabric covered everything but her mouth and nose.

“Vet wrap has too much ‘give’ in it,” I said. “Let’s reinforce it with something not quite so stretchy.”

Starting again at her ankles, I placed bands of duct tape around her every two or three inches. The last band, placed over her forehead, secured her head solidly to the plank.

“Finished yet?” she asked, a bit sarcastically.

“Nope.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Point your toes downward.”

It didn’t take long to cover her entire body with stretchy, six-inch-wide black pallet wrap, pulled taut enough to rob Diana of any final vestiges of movement she might have had.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked as I paused to admire my handiwork.

“Such as?”

“A gag, maybe?”

“Way ahead of you, darlin’,” I replied, rolling three pairs of her panties into balls and packing them one by one into her pretty little mouth. Her mouth then got the same treatment the rest of her body had received -- vet wrap, duct tape and pallet wrap.

I leaned close so she could hear me through the umpteen layers that bound her.

“Ready to have some fun?” I asked as I reached into our toy box for the remote controls to the vibrator. When I lifted it up, I found a note and two other remotes taped to it.

“Surprise! I figured you’d try to vibe me into extinction, so I took the liberty of ‘equipping’ myself with a vibrating dildo/butt plug combo,” the note read. “Send me to the moon, big boy.”

I leaned close to Diana’s ear once more. “I have a surprise, too,” I said, flipping the switch on another remote to the “on” position. A plaintive squeak escaped the well-gagged lips of my masterfully mummified mate.

“Those vibrating nipple clamps pack quite a punch, don’t they, dear? Brace yourself for a long, slow voyage. Nipple clamps to the moon, dildo to Jupiter, big vibe to Saturn, and the butt plug to…wait for it…Uranus!”

Diana giggled, then shrieked as I activated each of the remaining vibes.

“Mission Control, we have liftoff! Spaceship Diana is under way, outward ‘bound’ for the Kuiper Belt!”


To be continued...
Links to all of my stories can be found here in the Story Catalog: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=46&t=6023
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Post by OldTUGger »

Part 8


After mowing the yard and trimming the planting beds in 90-degree heat, a nice cool shower seemed like a terrific idea. I would feel better, and Diana wouldn’t have to cuddle up to someone who smelled like an overripe goat.

The shower took only a few minutes. There are advantages to being old, I thought. Being half-bald sure cuts down on my hair-drying time!

Refreshed, I set about trying to find my bride. She wasn’t in the living room, the kitchen or the basement/laundry room. Probably in the bedroom, I concluded.

That’s where she was -- and, almost predictably, she’d rendered herself rather helpless in anticipation of my return. She lay on the bed, stark naked, hands cuffed behind her back, ankles cuffed together, blindfolded, and wearing an uncharacteristically small ball gag.

Nearby, on a slat-backed wooden chair we’d come to refer to as “the bondage chair,” lay a sizable pile of white solid-braid nylon rope.

A note on the bed laid out Diana’s expectations: “I’m helpless, but not helpless enough. Please render me as immobile as you can with the materials on the chair. Feel free to augment what I’ve placed there with whichever items you desire.”

When she heard me enter the room, she began writhing about on the bed, running her cuffed hands over her pert little backside and, in an impressive display of flexibility, doing the same to her breasts.

“Careful,” I said. “Don’t turn yourself on too much. That’s my job.”

I laid down next to her and spent the next several minutes kissing and nibbling her neck, fondling her breasts and exploring the already-humid area between her upper thighs.

“Now that I have you thoroughly warmed up, let’s see how thoroughly helpless I can make you,” I said.

I cleared the pile of rope off the chair, picked Diana up and deposited her on it. A quick flick of a key opened one of her cuffs, but only momentarily. I pulled her arms through two widely spaced slats and re-cuffed them behind the chair’s back.

“Can’t have you running away while I’m trussing you up,” I explained.

The great thing about slat-back chairs is that they provide oodles of places for ropes to go. In Diana’s case, the horizontal slat atop the back provided a perfect anchor for a figure-eight harness that secured her shoulders to the chair. Ropes woven through the slats secured the rest of her torso to the chair’s back.

After unlocking her ankle cuffs and setting them aside, I spread her knees and frog-tied her thighs and ankles. I enforced her legs-apart position by running ropes under the chair’s seat and attaching them to the outside of the frog-tie ropes. I then pulled the under-chair ropes tighter and tighter until Diana’s calves were clamped hard against the outside of the seat.

“Time for your arms now, dearest,” I whispered in her ear. Ropes around her upper arms welded her elbows together. From there, it was a simple matter to attach a long rope and wind it around her forearms all the way to her wrists. By the time I finished, Diana’s arms might as well have been in casts from her armpits to just above her hands. With the white rope, it almost appeared as if they were.

With her arms secure, I was then able to remove the cuffs from her wrists. “We’re almost done,” I said reassuringly. “At least with the tying part.”

I unbuckled the puny little ball gag and replaced it with my favorite -- a heavy leather harness-gag that sported a 2-inch black silicone ball. It stretched her jaw quite nicely.

“And now for the piece de resistance,” I said, looping a lark’s-head knot through the harness’ topmost D-ring, the one that sat atop Diana’s head. A firm tug on the rope pulled her head back until her nose pointed directly toward the ceiling.

I won’t go into too much detail about the next few minutes. Suffice to say that I spent a lot of time kissing, licking, sucking, fingering…well, you get the idea. All the while Diana’s moans and whimpers increased in volume and intensity.

Finally, when it seemed she could take no more, I pulled out the Magic Wand, flicked it on and pressed it hard against her pleasure center. The resultant orgasm, which came in waves, threw her body hard against the unyielding webwork of ropes.

As the climax faded, my beautiful white-haired wife relaxed and slumped against the ropes. “Good girl,” I said, gently patting her head while kissing her on the cheek.

I untied her and, picking her up once again, laid her onto the bed.

Imagine my surprise when she grabbed a pair of cuffs and locked her hands behind her back once again. “If you’ll put a ring gag on me, I’ll be game for whatever you’d like to put through it,” she purred.

“You, my dear, are an insatiable minx,” I said, as I slid the ring behind her teeth and buckled the strap tightly at the nape of her neck. “And I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.”


To be continued...
Links to all of my stories can be found here in the Story Catalog: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=46&t=6023
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slackywacky
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Post by slackywacky »

> You, my dear, are an insatiable minx

I agree, she is. But that leaves a nice challenge for you. :lol:
Nice update. Thanks for posting.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
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Post by Mask6190 »

A nice chapter OldTUGger! Diana is certainly up for more games :D :
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