#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...)