I adore her as she stands in front of me, naked, as i have told her to be. She covers up her body with shudders and slouched shoulders, but her hands remain, as commanded, at her side. I pull out the roll of industrial-quality shrink wrap and ask her to hold onto the open edge as i roll the thick plastic across her face, cocooning her head in several layers.
I leave her a small opening for her nostrils, to allow her to breathe. All other portals are cut-off. Her humanity has been vacuumed from the landscape, and all that sits atop her shoulders is a featureless bust. I work quickly to immobilize the rest of her body. Her arms are pulled behind her in a reverse prayer - perhaps a symbol to this twisted form of worship - strapped into place by the stretched cellophane. Her ankles are bent up until they rest right underneath her buttocks, trapped in this pose beneath more layers. Only her raw, vulnerable cunt remains exposed.
I step back and soak in the sight. A tender girl, with whom just hours before at the local cinema i'd enjoyed a romantic comedy, lies somewhere beneath these imprisoning sheets of plastic. I take the hair dryer, and on the low setting, run it up and down the shiny contorted anatomy. The wrap absorbs the heat, responding by tightening, compressing the flesh beneath it. She moans in response. Her pink flesh with its matte finish now instead glows a rose color, the surface slickened smooth.
Easily available, i grab one of the rolls of duct tape and pull off an 8-inch long strip. Symbolically, i smooth this over her already silenced mouth, as if to say to her one more time, "Shhhhh..." Saliva builds in my mouth as i begin to coat her head with strips of tape. This is the height of my arousal. I'm making her disappear. I'm wiping away any notion of her daily independent and fiery self, reducing her to an immobilized fucktoy. Focusing on her head, i feel a tremendous surge of stimulation . This is the part that separates us from the wild beasts; the ability for free thought and the voice to articulate it. Her long luxurious, ebony locks have vanished. She - or it - is now bald. No full feminine lips. Just a smooth surface where a mouth used to be.
I encase my toy completely in a tight duct tape cocoon. Hardly even its breathing can be detected by the eye. Staring up at me, the only evidence that the black figure laid prone on the bed before me is real, leaks a decided trail of excitement. I leave it alone, going into my study to complete some work i'd started earlier. In an hour, i will return, ready to use what quietly awaits me.
6 comments:
but what if her nose got congested? then you wouldn't be in the room and she wouldn't be able to breathe. that doesn't sound nice.
Of all the things to comment on...
In all seriousness, i think you raise an excellent point: Safety. It is utmost on my mind. For literary purposes, i didn't include that i do in fact check on her several times to ensure she is okay. And to further demystify the affair, we have an apparatus constructed that keeps her nostrils quite clear. I also have (another non-erotic detail omitted from the post) surgical scissors at the ready should an emergency release need to take place.
Don't worry, i like to play with my toys, not break them.
It's so interesting though (and i'm sure this is not where you intended from this post) but there is always a gap between what we write about and the reality. It is sometimes disheartening i find, because it's like porn, when you try something new, you try to do it 'perfectly', how you read about it on insertwhatsit's blogname here, and are disappointed when your hands go to sleep or when you don't get as wet as expected because your toes cramp. Anyway, obviously we all love it cause we do it, but food for thought.
By the by, this was a very exciting post, even the reality check omissions couldn't have tarnished it ;)
--[milla]
milla,
i don't think they'll ever make it onto this journal, but i've had several false starts, snafus and just plain loss of interest/passion/arousal. Either the girl wasn't feeling it, i hadn't set the mood right, or my planning didn't work out in execution. At those moments, there has been a great deal of embarassment and disappointment. But, like you said, we love what we do, and a few days would go by and i'd be at it again.
I'm happy to hear that it still excited you, nonetheless.
That is extremely hot as a literary piece, although none of the things I actually want or am ready to try.
I know about stylizing my experiences in writing, though, omitting things like "Where's the f*cking lube, I can't believe we lost the lube, here, I know exactly what we gonna use, the Vaseline." While the actual post might say "He stabbed me in my most intimate part" or something cheesy like that.
amber,
What makes you not ready?
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