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For Me
THE VISUALS:
Light glints and shines off tight, shiny latex. The black second
skin is stretched taut across thighs and buttocks, breasts and belly,
forearms and biceps. Its smooth embrace encases each finger, the
neck, cheeks, ears and skull. The marvelous, tight, continuous smoothness
is punctuated by small wrinkles at wrist and elbow, neck and knee.
My love has been rendered anonymous, mute and alien. The pliant
material covers and yields, accommodating itself to her movements.
The continuous organic blackness of the costume is broken only by
the thin golden shine of a bracelet on the right wrist, the large
aquamarine ring around the left ring finger and the incongruous
lines and angles of equally black boots that rise from thin, high
heels to just below the knee. A splash of red marks lips outlined
by the mouth hole of her hood, sparkling dark eyes shine from their
openings. Her shiny dark hair glimmers with a faint magenta hue
where it spills from the opening in the back of the hood. Light
from 63 candles spread around the room (I have had plenty of time
to count them) illuminates my love and throws multiple shimmering
shadows on the walls, floor and ceiling.
THE SOUNDS: The candles...silent. My love, also. My voice is stilled.
Only my short, shallow breaths move sound through the room. Hooded
and masked, breathing through a rubber tube held in the gloved hand
of my love, I hear my own breathing magnified and focused as it
otherwise would not be. My ears, covered, strain to hear other sounds.
No, not true. I am, at present, suspended in an ecstatic state from
which I wish no interruption. Other sounds would only shatter this
bliss. My breathing, inhalations and exhalations labored by my bonds
and confinement, is the only expression of my life. I exalt in the
sounds of my own breath as I cannot move, speak or express myself
in any other way. Only my breathing proclaims my existence. This
most basic and primitive of processes is the only present evidence
that I live.
THE SENSATIONS: I am trussed on my back. My arms are pulled and
fixed to the corners of the headboard of the bed, my legs bound
together at the ankle and tied straight down towards the center
of the footboard. My genitals are exposed and totally naked. A gag
has been fitted into my mouth, a single long latex glove rolled
starting at the fingers. Stuffed into my mouth, it fills it and
causes spittle to build up and leak from my mouth. A black rubber
hood pulled on and zipped taught over my head exerts a constant
pressure on my face, ears and around my throat. The squeezing pressure
of the hood is countered by the outward pressure exerted by the
gag. My senses are further filtered by the addition of a gas mask,
different from the typical gas mask in having not straps to secure
it, but, rather, a rubber head-piece. Long, thin, black latex gloves
encase my arms. Shining black patent boots cover my legs to the
thigh, drawn on with difficulty over thigh-high lustrous black latex
stockings. My costume shames me by its femininity, excites my with
its sensuality. I have been afforded a little slack in my bonds,
allowing some limited movement of arms and legs, but not enough
to allow me to reach or touch any part of my body. The bonds do
not hurt me physically, but torment me with their firmness. I have
pulled and tugged and twisted to no avail. I am at once totally
humiliated and exhilarated. I am resigned to the capricious whims
of my love. The exquisite pleasure I enjoy at present is likely
to be lost at any given instant. Continuance of this bliss is not
in my control and, therefore, even more absolute...I know very well
that the degree of my pleasure is increased by the possibility of
its loss. I lie in the liquid light of the many candles, eyes wide
and fixed on the resplendent black form of my love.
THE ACTION: The blissful reverie is broken as she speaks. She is
berating me. I have lost my erection. My love stands over me, my
breathing tube in her hand, and continues her verbal tirade. She
is speaking the truth, demanding an explanation of my limpness after
all the ritual that I have put her up to. Thoughts tumble through
my head, thoughts I cannot express because of the gag. I mumble
anyway, hoping to show my interest and sincerity. This whole scene
has been set strictly to pleasure her, not me. I must make this
an experience of extreme satisfaction for her if ever I wish to
replay it. She grabs my limp dick and balls with a shiny black-gloved
hand and squeezes. The pain makes an erection less likely at this
point. Even as I struggle to regain my erection for her, she flips
the corrugated breathing tube away and continues, telling me sarcastically
that this is not what she had in mind. Turning, she walks away across
the room, the heels of her boots clicking sharply as she walks off
the throw rug and on to the Italian ceramic tile floor. I realize
I am holding my breath, anticipating an unknowable future. When
she returns towards me, I inhale sharply, suddenly aware of her
intent. In one black gloved hand, she carries a battery-powered
anal vibrator, in the other gloved hand, a tube of lubricant. I
can only watch with wide eyes as she slathers jelly on the black-gloved
fingers of her right hand and the vibrator. Involuntarily, I tense
as she approaches. My head rolls from side to side, words of protest
locked in my gagged mouth. Spittle built up in my rubber-filled
mouth leaks from around my gag. I pull my hands against my restraints
and squeeze my legs tightly together at the thigh. I watch in anguish
as she begins to work her slick, gloved hand down between my squeezed
thighs. My strength is not sufficient against the lubricated, gloved
hand. I gulp and groan as she works her hand down between my legs
and towards my anus. She wiggles and spreads her fingers and slides
two of them into my anus. She pulls them free, inserts and works
them around again and again. She then takes the lubricated vibrator
with her left hand and maneauvers it down between my clamped legs,
next to her right hand. Despite my muffled protests, in a flash,
the anal vibrator has been slid into position. The wide body is
clamped inside of me as my sphincter closes around the narrow base.
I toss and turn in discomfort and ecstasy. She works both hands
out of the tight confines of my closed legs. My love chides me for
my love of penetration, reminding me that I enjoy what is normally
considered only a female pleasure. I have begun to get hard again,
and the event is not lost on my love. Telling me that things are
looking up, she makes her way onto the bed. Latex squeeks on latex
as she positions herself, straddling my stomach, her gloved hands
grasping my nipples. She tweaks and squeezes, rubbing and spreading
the slick lubricant all over them, knowing well this is not one
of the physical stimulations I enjoy. I mumble in protest but she
just smiles. She makes a deft movement with her left hand towards
the foot of the bed. I can not see what she is doing, but know in
an instant that she has turned on the vibrator. My cock is now very
hard, my pelvis moving and rolling as I seek physical contact for
my stiff penis. There is none as she has positioned herself further
towards my chest, beyond my reach. I close my eyes and focus on
the feelings of her weight pressing on my chest, restricting my
breathing. Eyes closed, I focus on the feeling of the buzzing vibrator
working inside me. I open my eyes and focus on the vision of my
latex-clad love astride my chest. Eyes open or closed...I am in
heaven. I close them to enjoy the feelings, I open them to enjoy
the vision. I am lost in this cycle of alternating pleasures until...
COMPLETION: I open my eyes with a start. She has taken my breathing
hose in hand and placed the open end against the taut latex covering
her breast. Without warning, I have been shut off from breathing.
I suck hard but succeed only in pulling my gas mask tighter against
my face. I try to inhale deeply again with the same result. Panic
builds slowly. I writhe and strain against my bonds; my head rolls
and tosses, I jerk my head, trying to yank the breathing tube from
her hands, but the hose is too long, the bonds too tight. Fighting
the panic and the explosive tightness in my chest, I am aware that
my sexual excitement is at an absolute peak. I jerk and roll and
thrust my hips, my dick feeling as if it will explode. Through the
fogged eye-pieces of my mask, I see my love. She slowly shakes her
head from side to side, a slight smile expressed by her rubber-outlined
lips. I strain to inhale, hoping that some air, any air will leak
in around the mask, around the hood and keep me conscious. I yank
against the ties on my wrists, hoping to pull a hand free. My fingers
alternately clench and extend in their rubber gloves. I strain my
feet against their bonds, foolishly imagining that I can slide a
foot free of its boot and use my free leg for defense. I am beginning
to lose it, the pressure in my lungs, the weight of my love astride
me and the panic in my head starting to overwhelm the erotic pleasures
I had felt so strongly before. She is speaking or laughing or yelling,
I can not tell which. My lungs suck and suck and my hips thrust
and thrust as air pressure collapses the gas mask tightly against
my face. Even as my panic begins to overwhelm me, the orgasm starts.
I actually feel it begin in my toes as they flex and curl in the
tight confines of the latex stockings within the leather boots.
What feels like a pressure wave creeps up my latex and leather clad
legs, through the calves, the knees and the thighs. I am still struggling,
pulling, fighting for air, a wail for relief buzzing against the
inflated gag in my mouth. The wave is reaching my balls and cock.
Both at once, I want it end and I want it to never end. I roll and
jerk and bounce and, at exactly the moment she pulls the end of
my breathing tube from her breast, I explosively release my load
of cum. My hips thrust back and forth into thin air as my dick contracts
and pulses, thick jism splashing my bare stomach and the latex-covered
backside of my wife, still astride my chest. I inhale great, full
breaths of delicious air, floating in a total delirium of sated
bliss. My cock is empty, finally, already begining to lose its rigidity.
My body slowly reoxygenates, my normal senses return. My muscles
relax and my whole body becomes limp. I wallow in the total exstacy
I have been so graciously allowed. I greedily inhale rubber-scented
air, moaning softly to my self. I make weak, easy motions against
my bonds, rolling my head from side to side, taking in sensations
and visions I had only thought were possible in a fantasy. I am
afforded scant opportunity to enjoy this scene, however. My love
jolts me from my floating bliss with sharp words. "That was
fine for you, I can see, but when will I get anything out of this?
What do you plan to do for me?" Indeed, what do I have in mind
for her?
Story Submitted By Devo
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