Gabrielle sat before her vanity doing her eye make up. She wore his favorite like he asked when he e-mailed her earlier in the day.
“I’ve got something for you. I’ll be over tonight. You know what to wear.”
What to wear were stockings, heels, g-string, and bra…all black. It was simple. It was elegant. And he loved to see her in it. Her whitish complexion looked good in contrast to the black material. Her proud breasts pushed out the bra (with a lee-tle help from a surgeon) and her nipples were just visible below the line of the cup. Her green eyes studied her reflection with relaxed experience as the eyeliner pencil traced ever so gently along her lower eyelids. She put the pencil down, studied her eyes, and when satisfied, picked up her makeup brush. She gave a couple of swipes on each cheek around her pert mouth and then stared at the image. Then at the brush.
He had used that brush to devastating effect on her on several occasions. Her mind flashed instantly to the first night he had her tied spread eagle to the bed, a blindfold over her eyes, and he almost murdered her with the soft bristles of that brush. The smooth motions up and down her body. The attention that he paid to the inside of her elbows (of all places) was really what got her going. It put her in a place as near to Nirvana as she could think a place of eternal arousal. He would trace around her breasts and nipples in such a loving and caring manner. He would put his lips to her skin and kiss her gently and give her a blast of his hot breath. Once, he had lip-synched to George Michael’s “Freedom 90” all over her body. The combination of his soft full lips, gentle touch, warm breath, and deep bass tone sent her mind wandering for days. Her hand moved the brush slowly over the soft pink mounds above the bra, almost absentmindedly as she remembered that night. She then thought of all the other nights (and days and weekends) as well.
He knew. That was the thing. He could read her mind and he knew. He knew how to make her mind work against her and how to make her body “trip the light fantastic”. He was both an angel and the devil in one breath. He could giver her everything and take it away with just the movement of his fingertips. He could satisfy her or frustrate her. He would take the most pleasure it seemed from servicing her. That’s not to say she didn’t know a trick or two. He had spent more than one night in total submission to her well-manicured fingernails and her own devious mind. Some of him was rubbing off on her; there was no doubt of that. But… he was the best at it. He could play the mind games with the best of them. And he always won. She drifted back into the here and now and gave a shiver at the thoughts running through her head, resigning them back to the corners so that she could try to think straight.
Gabrielle looked into the mirror and saw a reflection of her back. That seemed a little strange, considering that she couldn’t remember being able to see her back from the vanity before. It was then that she noticed the three-piece full-length mirrors against the opposite wall, like the ones in a department store. He must have put them there. She turned her head to examine them further, taking a minute to notice her back. Those thoughts were working their way back again. She could see what her back had looked like one night. Like a spider had spun a web of intricate beauty and strong utility around her body. Her wrists had been secured to the small of her back with a harness wrapped around her upper torso of the softest white nylon rope she had ever seen. He never believed in just confinement. It had to be confinement coupled with a pleasing feeling to the eye and the subject, and flattering for both. It took him an hour to weave that creation onto her curves and she loved every minute of it. He had made several “runs” between her legs with the white cord, placing a large knot right where it needed to be. The “crotch rope” is what he said it was called. Fuckingtastic was her response. She had struggled, but she didn’t want to be free. She wanted to make sure that she was being kept in her place.
She heard the sound of the front door and knew that he had arrived. She checked her appearance in the mirror (gorgeous) and sat demurely on the vanity stool, looking at the door for him to walk in. His head poked around the doorjamb, his piercing blue eyes sparkling of fire. She knew what that meant. He was feeling exceptionally good and he was in a devious mind again. She loved that look in his eye.
“Hello, Beautiful.”
“Hello, Devil.” She made no move to get up. She could see him studying every inch of her outstanding body, making love to her with his eyes.
“I have something for you.” He had a grin like the cat that ate the canary.
“So you said.” She felt herself getting excited, only because of whose mind had come up with whatever it was.
“Close your eyes,” his voice was soft and seductive. She smiled as she shut her eyes, getting a chill all over. She heard him walk in and cross over to the bed and then felt him approach her. He loved her neck and gently nuzzled her neck from behind. This went on for a moment or two and then she felt him exhale near her ear.
“Okay,” he breathed more than said. “Open.”
She looked over at the bed and saw a large garment box wrapped in glossy black paper with a large silver ribbon around it. It was large enough to hold what she hoped it was.
“What is it?” Her hand came up and stroked his cheek with her long nails.
“Open it and see.” She didn’t want to get up, less the gentle caressing on her back would have to stop. Reluctantly, she rose from the stool and crossed the room. He took her place on the stool and watched her sit cautiously on the bed. Her mind was racing with a thousand ideas of what his incredible mind could have cooked up.
He smiled as she acted like a kid on Christmas morning, picking up the box, feeling its unusual weight. Whatever it was it was heavy. She gave it a little shake and heard something shift inside. She looked at him with narrow, inquiring eyes that seemed to try to read his mind as to what it was. It was almost as if she were afraid to open it. She replaced the box on the bed and began to pull on the end of the ribbon. He picked up the remote control off the vanity and turned on the CD player. Almost as if on cue, Heart’s “Magic Man” began to play. The ribbon was off and she pulled on the paper. It tore to reveal a plain corrugated cardboard box. She pulled off the top and separated the brown tissue paper to reveal the contents. Her heart stopped and she immediately became wet. Her knees went weak and she would have fallen had she not been sitting down.
“Oh shit,” she whispered, almost in disbelief. “It isn’t.”
“It is.” He sat back and watched her reaction to the box’s contents.
Her hand reached out and stroked the material inside. Black leather, superbly buffed to a dull shine. From the way it was folded, it looked like a leather blouse and what looked like a belt ran across the garment with a shining silver two-piece buckle that had a keyhole in its center. Her other hand went slowly between her legs.
“Oh God.” Her mind went helter skelter. Her hand went from the box to cover her mouth. The aroma of polished leather filled the room. She was dumbfounded. She looked back at him with wide eyes and then back at the box. He chuckled softly and crossed over to sit on the bed with the box in between them. It was as if she was petrified of the gift, but that wasn’t true. Her heart and her mind were competing for control of her body and she didn’t know which to listen to.
He pulled the blouse by the shoulders and removed it from the box, spreading it out on the bed. It was a straight jacket of jet-black leather. As it was removed from the box, the sleeves unfolded to their full length and a tangle of straps appeared. The jacket had been filled with tissue paper to keep its shape (that of a female torso – hers to be exact) and it rustled quietly as he arranged the myriad of straps to keep them from getting fouled in each other. Gabrielle could not remove her eyes from the jacket. She could already see it surrounding her and making love to her, causing her skin to tingle with its whisper embrace. She stared at it and he watched her, seeing her dry swallow, knowing the thoughts and images that were running through her mind.
“There’s more,” he said. She looked quickly back at the box and noticed another leather garment had been underneath the first. He pulled this one out and laid it on the bed as well, underneath the straight jacket, obviously it was designed to be part of the same outfit. Its shape tapered from the top. It was the leg sheath for the straight jacket. Gabrielle moved over to sit in his lap and stare at the new outfit.
“I hope you like it.”
Since the day he told her about it, she had had fantasies of such a suit. Of her being held prisoner inside its tight embrace. To be presented with the outfit and the actual occasion to wear it was causing her mind to almost overload. Her sex got even wetter. He could feel the heat from it through his pants, causing him to stiffen. He went to work on her neck again. She could not take her eyes off of it. Her hand went out to stroke it, to caress it, to squeeze it. He let his tongue dance on her bare shoulder and he felt more than heard her say something.
“What was that?”
“Seal me in it.” Her voice was shaky. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and she dry swallowed again.
“Your wish…” He had his mouth right next to her ear, “…is my command.”
“Stand up,” he commanded quietly. With great difficulty, she did. He moved her over to the vanity and had her face the mirror.
“Take off your top and bottoms.” She removed the bra and panties, tossing them under the vanity. He picked up the jacket and held it before her, the open back to her. Instinctively, her arms slid into the sleeves and he hooked the jacket over her shoulders. It fit like a glove, a glove that may be a little snug even. The outfit was no doubt tailored to her measurements exactly. Her breasts pushed out the leather and her arms felt the snugness in the sleeves. It was made exactly to her body. Her hands were enclosed in the mittens at the ends of the sleeves, her fingers forced close to each other. The mittens ended in straps that seemed to form out of the sleeve and the straps ended in the silver two-piece buckle with the keyhole in it that she saw when she first opened the box. She ran her hands over her leather-covered body, feeling the leather on leather and the leather on skin. Her nipples grew hard instantly as little nubs in the breast cups massaged against them from the movement of her arms. The feeling of the leather against her bare skin was exquisite. He had gone back to the box to remove a coil of black shoestring and gently guided her back to the vanity stool.
She sat without prompting. He undid the shoestring to its full length. The ends of the shoestring were tipped with thin silver tips. He began threading the string through the series of eyelets in the back of the jacket, drawing it closed over her back. He worked quickly, giving each run of lacing a jerk to remove all slack and pull the eyelets closer. Her breathing became timed with his regular jerks on the lace to tighten it even more. She felt the leather slowly drawing around her, hugging her tighter. Her breasts were becoming more pronounced through the black skin, her nipples and piercings being outlined in the dull shine of the leather.
After what seemed like an eternity, he was up to her neck. The measured length of lace had worked out well, even with the extra tightness he had cinched into her confinement. With deft fingers, he tied a tight knot quickly to not loose the tension in the binding. Gabrielle adjusted to the constriction in her chest and reveled in the tightness on her body. Her eyes closed. She felt a pair of flaps close against her back and heard the steady rip of a zipper as it was pulled from the bottom of the jacket to her neck. She heard the click of a lock on the zipper at the base of her neck. Then there was the click of another between her shoulders. Her heart started to pound harder. And another click at the base of her ribs. Her breath quickened and drew shorter. Another click at the small of her back. And yet another at the base of the jacket.
“Sit up straight.” As Gabrielle straightened, the tension of the jacket grew as it strained to contain her. It was delicious. She now knew why the other mirror was where it was as she could see her back now in the vanity mirror. A wide silver zipper went up her back and disappeared under her strawberry blond hair. The zipper was broken in places where a wide strap had been locked over it. Each lock was the same two-piece buckle that was at the end of her sleeves. The silver and black hugging her curves from behind looked amazing. He moved over to her side and began to strap her upper arm to the top of the jacket, firmly anchoring it in place. He then did the small zipper at her wrist, drawing the leather tight as with an opera glove all down her arm. These steps were repeated on the other arm.
He then moved behind her and took the sleeve straps, drawing them around her waist and pulling them to the small of her back. He had to give a yank to get the ends of the buckle to meet and lock shut. Her arms squeezed on her chest, pushing her breasts together. He then did the strap in the front over both crossed arms, locking them in place. He straightened up and looked down at her. She turned her face up at him, looking sweetly at him. Her shoulders had narrowed, her arms had disappeared, and her breasts had seemingly grown. She looked exquisite. He stiffened fully, becoming quite obvious through his pants as to what he thought of how she looked. However, he was far from done.
He stood her up now and she got a really good look at her bundled form in the mirrors. She spread her legs slightly to balance herself, giving him the space he needed to grab the strap hanging in front of her and pull it beneath her. She grunted in heat as the strap rubbed against her sex. He had to give a good pull to get its two-piece buckle to lock shut and seal up her crotch. The pressure against her groin was stimulating, the same type of nubs as on her nipples pressing against her vagina and anus. Her buttocks were spread with the width of the leather strap, which mercifully narrowed right where it needed to, keeping it from becoming uncomfortable. She tugged at her arms, which simply refused to budge, clamped firmly into place. Her struggles had rubbed against her nipples and groin in the most delightful way. He turned her toward him and hugged her. Her breathing was heavy and she was letting out little grunts as she tested her bonds. Her nose buried itself in his shoulder and neck as he stroked her ass, putting pressure on the strap that sealed her shut.
He led her over to the bed and sat her down. She rocked slowly to grind herself against the crotch strap and squeezed her arms against her body. He had flipped the leg sheath over and spread it open.
“We aren’t done yet.” He helped her up further onto the bed and positioned her on her stomach with the top of the sheath to her waist. She rocked once or twice in sheer ecstasy. He then produced another shoestring like the first, but much longer. He began to stitch her legs together with the rhythmic jerk to tighten it. She felt the leather wrap itself tightly around her thighs, forcing her legs together over the strap between them. When he finally tied the tight knot at the bottom, her legs were inseparable. Another set of flaps was drawn and she heard the rip of another zipper coming from her waist to her ankles. Five more buckle-locks were snapped shut over the zipper. A set of small straps near the bottom of the straight jacket joined to a corresponding set on the leg sheath, making the two pieces one.
He rolled her over and pulled her toward the foot of the bed where she sat up as best she could. The leather was tight all over and wasn’t about to let her have any give at all. She looked at her thighs and the smooth, tight covering that welded her legs together. Her cleavage was starting to get moist with the trapped heat as was her pussy and inner thighs. Her knees resisted bending due to their leather confinement. The suit was so blessedly tight that her entire body would seem to explode in an orgasm like no other if she could get enough movement to facilitate it. As it was, she was limited to breathing and slight squirms. She started to grind her ass as best she could into the bed, causing more friction on the crotch strap and giving her more pleasure. She knew, however, the diabolical double purpose of this suit. It was meant to give her arousal like she had never known by being inescapably bound in leather, but to then remove all hope of ever reaching physical climax from that arousal by restraining the necessary movement to achieve that climax. Her passion was boiling over inside her new ebony prison. Her frustration was sending her resolve to the breaking point.
She kept rocking her tightly wrapped hips in place as she watched him remove her four-inch-high heel black pumps and slide both feet into a single boot. The boot had a single four-inch spike heel and strapped both feet together. He laced it up over the bottom of the leg sheath and did another strap with a buckle-lock to keep it on.
“Stand up.” He gently guided her up to her standing height. The craftsmanship on the boot was outstanding. Her feet felt snug, but not jammed together. The heel forced her calves to tension, pushing on the leather a little tighter. Holding her so that she wouldn’t fall (her new footwear aside, her body was simply refusing to answer commands anymore) he “hopped” her over to the department store mirrors. She looked at herself.
She was still Gabrielle. At least, she had Gabrielle’s face and hair. But from the neck down, she was a tightly bound leather form, incapable of movement. The shiny highlights of the black skin that now constricted her body were just too sexy to watch. She bent at the waist. The leather got tighter. It relaxed when she did. She bent at the knees slightly. Same result. She started to really squirm and bend, he held her to keep her from slamming into the wall or the floor. Eventually, Gabrielle had bent herself into a tight ball balancing on the single-heeled boot. She moaned in pleasure. He gently eased her onto the floor and stood back. Gabrielle made deliberate moves to affect her pleasure zones with some success, but she knew she could not reach the peak in her current state. He sat on the bed and watched the slithering figure before him on the floor.
After she was frustrated (in many ways) with her efforts, she paused to catch her breath for a minute. The heat inside the suit was building, making her odor a more pungent mix of sex, sweat, and sweet leather. She saw him on the corner of the bed and could very easily see that he was aroused to no end. With a little trial and error, she wiggled her way over to him. She then drew her legs as tightly as she could underneath herself and hopped the last few inches on her knees to be at his feet. She leaned slightly forward and rested her cheek on his stiff (swollen) member.
“Please let me out.” She said this breathlessly as she stroked her cheek against him.
“Why?” He asked.
“So I can get off.” She was as sweet as anything he had ever seen in his life. He knew she wanted freedom, but that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to give up her bondage to get it.
“No.” His answer had an edge that seemed almost final, as if he really might not let her out of her skin-tight cell of luscious black leather. She swallowed as her mouth got dryer.
“Why?” Her voice was creaking from the tension from all sides.
“Because I get off first.”
“Yes, sir.” She demurely sat back on her bound legs as he undid his pants. His manhood seemed to shoot out. She licked her lips and slowly moved in, using the only part of her that still retained its usefulness.
* * *
She was later laying on the floor, still encased in her full body straight jacket, still trying to grind her way to an orgasm. She knew that was impossible. She could not achieve one without penetration. She never had before. Now, however, she was giving it one good try.
He was doing up his pants and she shot him a scornful look.
“Set me free, you bastard.” She brought her knees up and started to twist at her waist. He got down on the floor and put his face next to her. Watching her erotically charged form trying to break out of its captivity.
“You want to get out so you can get off, do you?” His voice had become velvety sweet. “I’ll help you.”
He produced from his pocket what might be construed as a key chain remote for a car alarm. It was a black plastic square with four buttons on it. He let his thumb caress the buttons as he held it before her. She slowed her squirming down when she noticed on the key chain the key that would unlock her straps and start her toward freedom. Was he going to release her? She also noticed the remote.
“What does that do?” As the words left her lips, she knew she would regret that question.
“This.” His thumb pressed one button and the vibrating pads in her nipples came to life, shooting through her tender body like electricity.
“Oooooh, shit.” Her eyes closed and she squirmed more.
“It also does this.” He pressed another button and the nipple pads vibrated again, along with similar ones in the crotch strap. He released the button and her body slowly stopped convulsing. She looked at him through narrow eyes, her hair matted to her forehead with the sweat.
“You fucking bastard.” Her scornful look turned ever so slightly into a smile. His thumb pressed and held the button. Gabrielle doubled up with pain and pleasure simultaneously. She screamed in ecstasy as her muscles tensed in their tight bindings and her abdomen began to exert pressure. Her groin pressed harder against the dastardly strap. She exploded in sheer pleasure as she came. Finally, her mind couldn’t take it anymore. Her senses were overloaded. She collapsed into tranquility.
She came to. How much later, she didn’t know. She was now sitting in a luxurious bath, her skin feeling a strange way, halfway between numb and sensitive. She looked up and saw the instrument of her torture hanging on a hangar on the wall. She squeezed her legs together over her still sensitive sex and felt herself getting aroused again. He had put the suit on the hangar with the straps done so that it was binding itself. Just looking at it brought back the image of her in the mirror and the feeling of it encasing her body. She remembered its wonderful embrace and moved her hands down below. She came again, this time with no physical effort and pure mental will power. He knew. God, how he knew! She sank into the tub and let the water caress her skin.
Later she was on the bed; her limbs bound spread-eagle to the posts and a blindfold over her eyes. He was running that makeup brush all over her again. Her skin was aglow with warmth and satisfaction. He could see her mouth words to him. He smiled at what she had said. He worked his way up to her chin and put his lips to her ear.
“Be careful with those words. Use them only if you really mean them.” His voice was soft and sweet. He moved down her again, kissing and teasing down to her toe. She was lost in her own dark world for the moment and didn’t even notice that he seemed to have stopped. She was drifting peacefully.
Her peace was shattered violently. Ice stabbed at her in her darkness with a thousand pinpricks, and then it was gone. Her lungs gasped and her back arched. She balled her feet in protest and strained against the rope and leather cuffs holding her down. He loved that sheet trick, and she loved it when he did it. He would put a bed sheet in an ice bucket before “starting” and when she was good and ready, he would wring it out, gather it in his hands and fling it out over her bound body. The sheet would just have enough time to settle on her body, then he would rip it off of her. It did the most wonderful things to her skin and her mind. She inhaled sharply as the cold came again, this time as a brush against her inner thighs. She felt his warm hand next on her abdomen. Then ice on her nipple and again between her legs.
God, how he knew.
02.06.09