“Remember, not a word,” he warned as he undid the gag. “Do you want some water to rinse
your mouth with?”
It was a deliberate test. She nodded her head keeping her mouth tightly closed.
“Do not move,” he ordered.
He fetched a half filled glass of water.
“You may drink or spit,” he told her.
She swilled out her mouth and deposited it back into the glass. She was like a trained
puppy waiting for the next command, alert but motionless. Ian put the glass on the
table.
“Up you get,” he said firmly but using his own strength to supplement her weakened
state.
He guided her to the bathroom.
“Step into the bath, carefully now.”
Ian was tempted to give her a cold shower, but this was no longer a test of endurance.
She had said that the bondage was not necessarily sexual but that being tied up was a
prelude to having an orgasm. She had also said that once she climaxed her libido rapidly
decreased. The trial had clearly been just that. He had now instigated a continuation
with clearly a different destination in mind. He removed his shirt in case he got
splashed, adjusted the flow to a comfortable temperature and encouraged her to stand with
her chest under it. He washed her down, giving rather more attention than necessary to
her bosom but keeping her arms and hair out of the water flow. She stood placidly. Ian
risked another probe between her legs. This time it was moist, and not from the shower.
He turned it off and rubbed her down, again paying particular attention to her breasts.
He then lifted her bodily out of the bath and over his shoulder. There was a small gasp
but she was not struggling. He plonked her unceremoniously onto the toilet.
“Do your business,” he said, “you have a long night ahead of you.”
She gave him a strange look.
Ian left her for a few moments. He heard a fart and several splashes followed by the
sound of running liquid. He would give her a couple of minutes to empty herself, but also
to try and anticipate what he had in mind. The truth was he had no idea. He had not
thought further than the trick with the potato paste. He had decided to clean her up
while still in bondage and the rest had just seemed a logical progression. He had now
virtually promised her a night of bondage. He had to decide what exactly he was going to
do next.
He returned with the leather gag. She was his mute prisoner. She must stay that way.
He could sense her anticipation and excitement. He only hoped she would not be
disappointed once again.
If this was a kidnap fantasy she would expect to be raped. Clearly there was a large
chasm between fantasy and reality. A real rape would have untold psychological
repercussions but he was her husband and she knew this. Nevertheless, he would set her up
for a forced intercourse as if she was a prisoner. It would need to be as unromantic as
possible giving her virtually no chance of her own satisfaction. He could demand a blow
job but that was probably too close to what he had already subjected her to.
“Finished?” he demanded.
She gave a suitably fearful nod of the head. Good, she was definitely responding in the
right manner. He stood her up and roughly wiped her behind. He then frog-marched her
into the bedroom, making sure she stumbled. He turned her round and pushed her onto the
bed making her lie on her bound arms. He forced her legs apart and probed her again.
“Excellent,” he said, dropping his pants. He pulled her bodily towards himself, impaled
her and fucked. It was brutal it was quick and she was clearly shocked by it. He pushed
her away, rolled her over and quickly tied her ankles. Within a few minutes she was
hog-tied. He left her alone while he considered his next move. He could see her through
the doorway. She was still on her chest, clearly panting through the gag. Her wrists
were turning as if trying to escape. She might even have been shaking slightly. Now what
should he do?
It was Tuesday. She would be due to go to work tomorrow. Somewhere in her mind she
might believe that he could not go through with this apparent threat of a night of
bondage. He now had to convince her of the reality. He was not going to allow her to
sleep in bed. In fact he was not going to allow her to sleep at all. First, he would tie
her standing up. Then he would crush her hopes of release. There was no pole or post,
but there was a bedroom door. It would mean untying her arms but that was not a bad
thing. There was on hook in the middle of the bedroom door. It was about head height.
He gave it a quick tug. It was solid enough.
He considered exactly how to secure her. If her wrists were tied together than pulled
over her head and to the hook she was basically stuck. Her ankles and thighs were already
tied together so he just needed to carry her over, one rope underneath and over the top of
the door back to her hands and there she was. All he had to do was untie her arms and
retie her wrists in front.
He approached her. She craned her neck to see what he had in mind. He undid the hog-tie
allowing her to straighten her legs then undid her elbows. He made her stand. She was a
bit shaky.
“Do not move your hands ‘till I tell you,” he warned.
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