HappyComeLucky

I have had trouble finding where to start this. I don’t want to launch in to it without telling enough, but at the same time I don’t want to lose your attention.

I don’t like the feeling of things wrapping me tightly. This goes all the way back through my life. I never liked being tucked in tight in bed. I never liked clothes that were tight around my neck. I didn’t like scarves that covered part of my face. The biggest challenge for me when I go camping is coping with sleeping in a sleeping bag. With all of this, it is no surprise that when I see pictures of people that are wrapped tightly I physically squirm away. I recoil and find it hard to look. The idea of doing that makes icy tendrils of fear run down my spine and makes me want to run and hide.

I knew for certain from the first time that I saw images of it that I would never want to be wrapped. I knew that it would be one step (or maybe a whole marathon) too far. I was sure that it would cause me to panic, to freak out and who knows what would happen then.

Time and my relationship have changed some things about me. I no longer hate being squashed, pressed deeply into the bed by the weight of another’s body. I like having my face buried into him while his arms are around me encompassing me. Even with these changes, the sight or thought of wrapping makes me shiver and instantly check for a chance to escape.

Bearing all of this in mind, I was totally shocked when, during a time of emotional distress, a clear yearning came upon me to be wrapped up tight as if it would hold me together both physically and emotionally. It was such a clear feeling that it reached deeper inside me than my instinctive responses would ever normally allow.

My response was to dismiss it, to blame the level of distress and to put it in a box of weird thoughts and pack it away at the back of my mind. I did that and turned my back on the thought. Unfortunately being stubborn wasn’t enough. It niggled away at me until I had to get it back out again. I shared it very timidly with my man. I have to admit that the thought caused such turmoil in me that I really struggled to tell him. I am glad that he is patient and is good at guessing what could cause me such squirming difficulty in talking.

So, the arrangements were made between myself and my man. Every time I thought about it, I shivered in trepidation. My man took delight in making me squirmingly wet as he described what he would do. I had such an assault of feelings that I had to let them flow through me instead of trying to process them.

The day came. All through the day I had a knot of anticipation in my stomach. I was truly nervous of what was to come and fearful of how I might respond.
For once I stuttered as I undressed. My normal lust to be naked with him replaced by uncertainty and a feeling of vulnerability that made me fearful of being exposed. There were other things that were done first. Another personal boundary crossed that deepened my submissive state and helped to prepare me for what was to come.

The wrapping began, starting at the top, ensuring my breasts were kept presented before moving down. My breath became shallower and I needed to focus on keeping it going.

When it got to my legs, he moved me onto the bed and I began to feel how totally immobilised I was. I bit my lip to stifle a cry as he completed the wrap and encased my feet. He licked and teased my feet through the wrap – every touch and sensation was heightened. I was totally stretched out. My feet tied to the foot of the bed, my hair plaited into a tie and fixed to the headboard with an insistent and constant tug.

Not being able to move seemed to control my mind as well as my body. My heart was pumping and my skin tingled as every nerve ending shouted at me telling me how trapped I was all at the same time. When he slapped my breasts the deep thuds were jolts from heaven keeping me grounded and connected to calm. I craved and needed every impact.

Just as I was beginning to find ways to relax into the experience he moved away. He moved out of reach – not that I could reach out to him anyway. My response was flight, but I was trapped. Instead my breathing became ragged and hard to control. He turned the light off and asked me how I felt. Next he opened the door and stepped through. This was slightly less awful because I could see his silhouette. When I told him that, he pushed harder and stepped out of sight while I had to count to ten. Keeping the pace of that counting was so hard to do. I was scared that if I rushed it, he would punish me by not coming back at the end. He did of course. He calmed me and then pushed harder again. This time when he stepped out of the door he closed it. I panicked. I was overcome with terror. I sobbed and forced those numbers out through a throat closing with tears and absolute fear. My whole body started to shake and I dug my nails as deep as I could into my skin.

As quickly as the terror had started, it was over. His body was against mine, his hand cupping my face and his lips against mine reclaiming me and calming me. If I hadn’t been unable to move, I would have left marks on his skin as I clawed to pull him into the full contact I needed.

At this point I had survived so much. I had faced so much of one of my biggest fears. My man is ambitious though and he still had more to offer. Being confined isn’t the limit of my fear. It goes alongside my phobia of having my face covered by anything. He said it. He offered it. He put the option there. In the cruelest of ways, he made me have to ask him to do it. He gave me the option of having my face covered for an agreed count. That was perfect in its cruelty. I struggle to ask for things, even small things, yet to turn away from this was something that, even in the cyclone of emotional conflict that was assaulting me, I would wonder and regret if I didn’t try.

After much struggling, both physical and mental, and times where the struggle was so intense that I needed reminding to breathe, I gasped out the words. As he covered my face my body went rigid with every muscle locked in the battle to keep control. I survived and each time he repeated it the fear got less. My muscles were still locked but the feeling that my heart was going to bolt from me reduced. The counts got longer until I dragged together the courage from within me to ask him to do it for an indefinite length of time and not to count. He did. I fought against the rising terror as the time passed and I won. I learnt so much about myself there in that experience. I am still processing it but it was a truly powerful moment.

After such an intense mental game, came a more physical one. The placement of a wand and the exposure from the wrap of my nipples was the start of the intense stimulation which was increased until my body almost broke in the effort not to orgasm without permission. My whole body was sensitised by the huge amounts of adrenalin pumping through it. The first clamps applied to my nipples made me buck and cry out as my cunt clenched. The sadistic tone in his voice as he told me to hold it made me love him with the vicious passion that would leave him bruised if I wasn’t tied. Then a very purposeful determination as he increased the power on the wand and swapped the clamps for the evil ones. At that point I found out what a masochist I am. The pain would have been enough to make me come without a wand, and the addition of that on high power was making me buck so hard that it pulled the hair tie loose, and yet before he allowed me to come, I begged him to take pictures so that I would be able to see after.

The orgasm when it came was powerful. It tore through my whole body and at that point we found another useful feature of the wrapping. For once I squirted without soaking the bed!

The last surprise of this whole scene came right at the end. My man carefully used his knife to cut away the wrappings. As they started to fall away, my instinct to run from them kicked back in. I started to try to get out of them before he was done. Not being able to reignited the panic and the adrenalin surged. It was quite an experience to see and feel my body shake violently and out of my control.

I am so glad that my man is loving and cruel enough to have done this with me. Oh, and just for the record, I still don’t like being wrapped but I wouldn’t have missed this experience for anything.