It’s a Friday evening, about 7.15 pm, and my wife, Annabel, has just gone out to teach a class of students at the local college of education. I’m sitting on the sofa in the living room watching television. So far, so normal.
What’s perhaps less normal is that I am dressed head to toe in black rubber, in a tight-fitting catsuit with attached feet, and with gloves covering my hands, plus I’m wearing a hood, which has mouth, nose and eye holes, as well as press studs for the attachment of a blindfold or a gag, though just now neither are present. A small padlock links the zips at the back of the hood and the catsuit so that I am sealed in until Annabel comes home. Apart from the small holes in my hood, the only parts of me not covered in black rubber are my penis and balls, which hang out of the zipped opening in the front of the catsuit. My hands are handcuffed behind my back and my ankles are joined by leather cuffs and a short connecting chain.
After we had had our early evening meal, Annabel instructed me to dress in this rubber clothing while she got her things ready to go out to her class. When I walked along the passage from our bedroom to the living room, she was there waiting for me, looking as pretty as ever wearing a white jumper and a short black leather skirt. Her legs were bare while, on her feet, she wore black knee-length rubber boots, and her black rubber mac and sou’wester were laid out on the arm of a chair.
It was raining outside, and this was her usual outfit for walking the short distance to the college, often even when the weather was fine! I know that she usually wears the rubber boots throughout her teaching session, rather than taking shoes to change into. As she says, many of the male students at least don’t seem to complain about this!
She greeted me with the familiar, but still thrilling, words: “Turn round and put your hands behind your back." As she clicked the handcuffs round my wrists, my penis hardened noticeably. She undid the opening against which it was pressing and let it and my balls out into the air. “Not yet," she said, giving it a playful slap, and pushing me down to sit on the sofa, whereupon she padlocked my hood and suit zips together, before kneeling down and fastening rubber cuffs round my ankles, putting small padlocks through the buckles and connecting them with a 6-inch chain. She then ostentatiously dropped the padlock keys into her bag to take with her to the college.
I would be able to shuffle around if I wanted to, including, for example, going to the toilet, which was just one reason why she had released my penis, but, until she returned, I would have to stay in the enclosed and bound state in which she had placed me. She then handed me the TV remote control and, after putting on her rubber mac and sou’wester, waved goodbye, and I heard her go downstairs and let herself out of the front door.
We own and run a craft and picture shop in a small country town and both of us also teach part-time at the nearby college of education. Annabel is a water-colour artist, while I am a photographer and also carve in wood. We are also both devotees of rubber and bondage. The shop occupies the whole of the ground floor of the building, with a workshop extension at the back, while our flat is on the floor above, with access both from the workshop and through our own front door and stairs to the side of the shop front.
Most of our teaching is to adult evening classes. Although we are sometimes teaching on the same evening, more often than not one of us will be taking classes while the other stays at home. And to make sure that they do stay, the person remaining at home may be put into bondage for the two hours or so that the other is away. The college is a ten-minute walk from our flat and the class lasts for an hour and a half, so, unless, as can happen, the students invite their lecturer to join them for a drink afterwards, the person kept at home knows that their bondage won’t last too long, though not unnaturally it may subsequently extend into a session of sex!
So, there I was, fumbling a little at the buttons on the remote control with my rubber-covered fingers held behind my back, enjoying what I was watching on the TV but always with part of my mind anticipating what was to come when Annabel returned home. My penis followed my thoughts, sometimes rising to attention, at other times subsiding, but always, it has to be said, a little charged up. The time passed quickly enough. The heating wasn’t on in the flat, so I was not getting too hot wrapped in the tight rubber. At one point, I shuffled along the passage to the toilet to have a pee, and also had a quick sip of some orange juice left in the kitchen with a convenient straw protruding from the glass.
At last, about 10.00 pm, I heard the front door open and close, and then Annabel poked her head round the living room door and said “Ah, still there, I see! Well, don’t go away, I’ll be along shortly." Some minutes passed, and then there was a shuffling sound, the door was pushed open, and there she stood, clad like me in a black rubber catsuit, also hooded exactly like I was. Round her ankles were cuffs like I was wearing, padlocked on and chained together, and then she turned slowly round to reveal that her wrists, too, were held in handcuffs behind her back, and that a small padlock joined her hood and suit zips. And, as she turned to face me again, grinning broadly, I realised that her catsuit zip was also open, like mine, at the most convenient place. I shuffled towards her and we kissed passionately, pressing our rubber-clad bodies together, my penis at maximum attention and pushing hard towards its goal.
Annabel broke away and said, “let’s go into the bedroom." There, the duvet had been pulled back off the bed and a black rubber sheet covered the mattress. We both lay down and continued our kissing. There’s an enormous stimulation to be in intimate contact with your lover, both of you clad in rubber. However, there is equally enormous frustration for both of you when your hands are cuffed behind your back and all you can do is to wriggle as close together as possible and continue to kiss and to rub yourselves against each other.
This position is, of course, not the best one for intercourse, indeed likely impossible if both partners have their hands locked behind their backs, so, before too long, Annabel rolled over with her back towards me into probably the only position that two people with their arms fastened behind their backs can make love. I probed with my penis to find her opening which I noted, without surprise, was pretty well lubricated. Our ensuing love-making was tremendous. After all, looking at the back of one’s partner completely clad in black rubber as one thrusts into her and seeing her arms behind her, wrists cuffed together, and feeling your own fastened behind you, is a great turn-on even without the massive added stimulus of both her and you being dressed in rubber catsuits and hoods.
We climaxed together – something that we manage more often than not, as a well-attuned, and well-practised, couple. After the ecstasy of my climax, I felt my usual need to be free, to be able to move my arms and legs and to remove my rubber catsuit and hood. This feeling seems to stem at least in part from the transfer of all the feeling, which had been concentrated in my penis, into other parts of my body, this time with the accompanying realisation that I had been wearing rubber for at least three hours and that the sudden rush of sweat which now enveloped me was making the wearing of it less comfortable and therefore less stimulating than it had been only moments before. I can’t really explain this rapid transition but it happens nonetheless.
I know that Annabel does not feel quite the same way, and is content, after an orgasm, to stay in rubber and, indeed, in bondage. At any rate, after our climax, she pushed back towards me, wanting to keep me inside her as long as possible, even though my penis was steadily subsiding. I pushed forward in turn, and snuggled up to her and then murmured, “That was fantastic. Thank you, my darling."
My next words were, “I really wouldn’t mind being released now, please." But, instead of getting up to fetch the keys, Annabel eased herself off my now flaccid penis, turned over to face me, giggled quietly, and then said, “You’re going to have to wait until tomorrow morning. Before I left the flat, I popped them into an envelope and, on my way to the college, put them in the postbox! I got there just before the late collection and, with any luck, they’ll be delivered first thing tomorrow morning.”
I remonstrated, trying to make out whether she was pulling my leg or had genuinely posted the keys, but all she did was to say, “Good night," turning back again to face away from me and to settle down to sleep. I lay there, not knowing what to think, except that, with my catsuit and hood making their presence felt, because of the time I’d been wearing them and because of the amount of sweat inside, I knew that it was not necessarily going to be an easy night. As I lay there, I became aware of Annabel’s regular breathing and realised that she had already fallen asleep, clearly not at all incommoded by being fully dressed in rubber nor by the handcuffs pinning her arms behind her back.
Sleep did come. Indeed, it had to. I had no choice in the matter but to succumb to Annabel’s ploy and to endeavour to relax and to come to terms with the niggles of the rubber pressing into the backs of my knees (a regular site of creases), and a tickle in my nose which I desperately wanted to scratch, as well as the sweat that was trying to trickle down into my eyes. I was aware a few times during the night of surfacing into lighter sleep and of erotic dreams involving rubber and bondage. But, in between, I must have slept quite soundly, to be awoken finally by feeling Annabel’s rubber-clad hands fumbling for my penis and very quickly awakening it. We adopted the same position as the previous evening and indulged in yet another bout of fantastic love-making.
When we had finished, I glanced at the bedside clock and saw that it was close to 7.30 am. We were fortunate where we lived, not far from the town centre, to get a morning postal delivery just before 8.00 am. We would not have long to wait for the keys. In turn, we shuffled our way to the bathroom, which leads off the bedroom, and were able to relieve ourselves.
Then we heard the rattle of the letterbox and Annabel got off the bed and shuffled off to see what the postman had brought. With her hands bound behind her and with ankle cuffs on a short chain, she was going to have to sit down to lower herself down the stairs to the street-level door, but I had little doubt that she would manage this just fine, and I lay on the bed and waited eagerly for her return and my release.
Annabel came back into the bedroom, holding the keys in her hand. She was free of her handcuffs and ankle cuffs, and had removed her hood, so that her blonde hair clung damply to her head. “That was good,” she said. “What if they hadn’t been delivered this morning and we had had to wait until Monday?” I had already thought of this possibility, which was not a happy one. Annabel continued, “Roll over on to your stomach, and lift your hands and legs, so that I can get at the handcuffs and padlocks.”
I did as she said and was caught in a trap of such blinding obviousness that I could have kicked myself (had my legs been free, of course) for being so naïve. The next thing I knew was that my wrists and ankles were being forced together and then kept like that as Annabel deftly tied the handcuffs chain to the ankle cuffs chain with a short piece of rope. Before I had time to protest, I found myself neatly hogtied!
My protests were not only in vain, but very short-lived, as an inflatable gag was forced into my mouth and connected to the press studs on my hood. A few pumps of the inflator and I was reduced to some rather peeved grunts. The gag had a breathe-through tube so I was able to get more air than through just the small nose holes of the hood.
Grunting and wriggling did no good, so I turned my head to watch Annabel walk into the adjacent bathroom and peel off her obviously very wet catsuit, turn it fully inside out and hang it up on a rail. She then moved out of sight and I heard the sound of the shower and wished that I was in it with her instead of immobilised on the bed in my catsuit, which was by now certainly even wetter inside than Annabel’s, bearing in mind I had been wearing it for about three hours longer than she had.
I lay there wondering just what she had in store for me. The noise of the shower stopped and I got glimpses of Annabel moving around before she re-appeared wearing a long black rubber apron and pulling on elbow-length rubber gloves. She came quickly towards me and with a swift movement clipped a blindfold on to my hood. Plunged into darkness, I next felt her tie my elbows together with, I thought, a strap. She didn’t pull it too tight – unlike her, my elbows didn't meet when tied – but my arms remained immobilised while I felt her remove my handcuffs.
Next, she took one of my hands, rolled my fingers into a fist and pushed it into what I soon realised was one of our pair of rubber ball mittens, the strap of which was very soon being fastened round my wrist. The other mitten was then applied and the two clipped together. One mitten has a dog-clip on the wrist strap, the other a metal ring. Once joined, with fingers balled into fists, there is no escape from them and one’s hands are completely useless. The strap was then removed from my elbows, but I remained as helpless as ever.
My feet were next to receive attention, with their cuffs being unlocked and removed, whereupon I was rolled onto my back and swung around by my legs. Annabel told me to sit up and I found that I was on the edge of the bed with my feet on the floor. She helped to stand up and then guided me as I walked, not able to see but guessing that I was headed for the bathroom.
Sure enough, the floor under my feet changed from carpet to hard tiles and I was then turned about, the zip of my catsuit running roughly from waist to waist right through my crotch was fully undone, letting in a feeling of cool air on my sweat-covered skin, and I was pushed down into a sitting position on what I at once realised was the toilet. Annabel instructed me to get on with it and, without embarrassment, I emptied my bladder again and then my bowels.
When I had finished, I was pulled to my feet, pushed sideways a couple of shuffling steps, and then made to sit down again, this time on the bidet. They aren’t that common in British bathrooms, unlike on the continent, but they are a real asset, including now, as Annabel in order to clean me just had to manipulate the taps and ensure the jet of water washed me thoroughly.
That done, Annabel pulled me up into a standing position and I felt the catsuit zip being done up again, but leaving my penis and balls outside. So, still dressed in a very wet catsuit, still blindfolded, still gagged, and with my useless mittened hands still bound behind me, I wondered what was next in store for me. I was soon to learn, as a hand grasped my penis and tugged. I had no option but to follow the tug and felt the floor surface change again from tiles to carpet and then after several steps back to tiles again.
I guessed we were now in the kitchen, which was confirmed a moment later when my hands were unclipped and then reclipped around the stout wooden post which is a feature of the room. Several years before we took on the shop and the flat above it, two rooms had been knocked into one to form a good-sized kitchen-dining room. However, in order to do so, a floor-to-ceiling post had to be inserted to support the beam which spanned the gap between the former two rooms. The gap was about 15 feet wide, so the post was not too intrusive. It did, though, make a fine piece of bondage furniture.
My next sensation was when a strap was fastened round my ankles and the post, followed in succession by one just below my knees, one above them, and one round my thighs just above my still excited penis. Annabel then applied two further straps, one round my waist and therefore also taking in my wrists, and the other across my chest and round my upper arms. A final strap went across my forehead and so fastened my head to the post. I was now virtually immobilised, able to wriggle my rubber-clad toes and to breathe in and out, but little other movement was possible – I was effectively welded to the post, and clearly, I thought, there for some time.
Annabel asked if I was comfortable! She was really just checking whether any of the straps were too tight, but I was OK, so grunted what I hoped she would understand as a yes. She then asked if I would like a drink – I gave another grunt – and then I felt the breathe-through tube of my gag being moved slightly, whereupon some orange juice was poured down it and into my mouth. I swallowed gratefully and wondered if this was all I was going to have for breakfast. It was, as Annabel then commented that a little weight loss wouldn’t come amiss!
I obviously had no way of telling the time, but I was aware of Annabel moving around, presumably doing housework – I heard the vacuum cleaner being used as well as what could have been food preparation sounds. I just stood there, immovably fixed to the post, aware of sweat slowly making its way down my body and legs. There wasn’t a great amount – my catsuit was quite tight-fitting – and I wasn’t overly hot so I assumed that the heating wasn’t on. Every so often, Annabel grasped my penis and gave it a little rub, her hand massaging it a few times, just enough to stimulate it a little, but never enough, so that I was left in an almost constant state of frustration, needing a climax but wondering whether I was going to be allowed one.
Time passed, then, without warning, my blindfold was removed and I involuntarily shut my eyes against the bright light. When I opened them again, the first thing I saw was Annabel dressed in her black rubber catsuit again, though without a hood, with her blonde hair brushing her shoulders. She looked gorgeous, as always, and my penis agreed!
She disappeared briefly into the bedroom and then emerged with some clothes in her hands which she placed on a chair and then proceeded to dress in them. The first garment was a pair of thin black woollen tights which she pulled on to her legs over the catsuit legs and then up to her waist. Next was a short black leather skirt which came to a little way above her knees, and finally a white, long-sleeved polo-neck sweater which, after donning it, completely hid her catsuit, both round her neck and her wrists. She was now very smartly dressed but no-one could suspect that she was also wearing a tight-fitting black rubber catsuit beneath her visible clothes.
She then announced to me that she was going shopping before meeting up with a couple of girlfriends for lunch at one of the town’s cafes and would be back in the early afternoon. I could see the kitchen clock from where I stood fastened to the post and noted that it was now about 11.15 am, which meant, I estimated, that I had been tied to the post for over 2 hours. The postman usually came just before 8.00 am, and then Annabel had removed her own bonds before hog-tying me and going to the bathroom, where she had stripped off her catsuit and had a shower. She had then dealt with me in the bathroom before leading me into the kitchen and strapping me to the post.
Annabel asked if I needed a drink, took my grunt to be an affirmative, and then deflated my gag and removed it, for which I was very grateful. However, I was told not to talk unless I had a particularly uncomfortable strap which she would adjust. I said that they were all fine, and she brought a glass full of orange juice and held it to my lips while I drank. She then prepared to go out. It was raining, as I could see through the kitchen window, so she first put on her short black rubber raincoat, with its matching sou’wester, and then pulled on her black knee-length rubber boots so that she was dressed just as she had been the previous evening, except for the addition of the tights concealing the legs of her catsuit.
After that, she replaced my blindfold and silenced my protest by placing her finger on my lips. This was followed by her hand on my penis, gently rubbing it, naturally causing it to grow again, and then something cool touched its end followed by tightness spreading along its length, and I realised that something was being rolled on to it, presumably a sheath of some kind. And I quickly became aware that it wasn’t just a penis sheath as my balls were being held tightly and forced into their own rubber container. I was now wearing a cock-and-ball sheath. The constriction on my penis and balls added to the arousal and my penis swelled further, as much as it could inside the sheath.
I felt her tugging slightly on my cock-and-ball cover, stimulating it again to an erection, but not nearly enough, and she then told me that the sheath had a drainage tube on its end which was now placed into the top of a bottle sitting on a chair beside me. If I needed to have a pee, then I could! The gag would not be replaced while she was out. We never leave a gagged partner alone for obvious reasons. However, leaving a tied-up partner in the house while the other was out was something we did quite frequently, believing that the chances of anything going wrong were absolutely minimal and worth the extremely slight risk. Others might disagree, but this was entirely our own choice.
I listened to Annabel go down the stairs, opening and closing the front door, leaving me on my own, still immobilised, not going anywhere, still dressed completely in black rubber, now including my penis and balls, with the only exception being my mouth, still blindfolded, still content to be treated this way by the woman I loved and who, I knew, loved me. I settled down for a long wait. I guessed that she had gone out around 11.30 am and that, if she was going to have lunch with her girlfriends, it could be two hours, or even closer to three, before she returned. And when she did, I had no real expectation of being released.
It was a while ago, but I now recalled a conversation we’d had about whether we should try wearing rubber and/or being in bondage for a longer period than our usual two or three hours or, very occasionally, overnight. Was this what she was exploring? I began to think so. I had now been wearing my rubber catsuit since about 7.00 pm the previous evening, so was already approaching 17 hours in it. It was not really uncomfortable, as I still enjoyed its tight-fitting feeling over my entire body, the way it clung to me, covering me, holding me.
I tried to recall the previous longest I had worn it, and thought that up to about 10 hours was probably the maximum, putting it on before going to bed, making love to my equally rubber-clad wife, and then staying in rubber until the next morning. The longest time in bondage was shorter than that. Neither of us had, prior to now, stayed tied up overnight or been kept like that for a prolonged period during the day. We were pushing the boundaries, or rather Annabel was, with me as the willing (?) subject.
I thought back to the first use that the post to which I was so securely bound was put to for bondage. It was a few years ago when I realised its potential and, one late afternoon, when Annabel had come up from the shop and was having a shower, I tied a piece of thin rope round the top of the post where there was a slight indentation at its junction with the beam it supported and let the two ends dangle down to about head height.
Then, as Annabel emerged from the shower and walked into the bedroom, I quickly sneaked up behind her with a soft scarf and bound it round her head covering her eyes, thus blindfolding her. She let out a little squeal of surprise, but didn’t resist me, nor did she when I took another scarf and used it to tie her wrists in front of her. She trusted me just as I always trusted her. Her breathing quickened slightly in anticipation of something nice going to happen to her, though what, of course, she didn’t know.
I grasped the scarf between her wrists and led her into the kitchen. Then, backing her against the post, I lifted her wrists, took the two loose ends of the rope attached to the post and tied them round the scarf, pulling them tight so that her arms were lifted up above her head. A further squeal followed, together with comments about taking advantage of her!
What she didn’t know was that, before I captured her, I had set up a video camera trained on the post, and so had filmed her coming into view and having her arms lifted up and tied to the post. She looked absolutely magnificent, stretched out in her glorious nudity in front of me, arms overhead, her beautiful firm breasts standing out and, I noticed, her nipples hard.
I was soon naked myself and allowed my hands to wander where they wanted to, over her breasts and down to her crotch, playing with her, teasing her and, not surprisingly, arousing myself. She started murmuring to me, asking for more, and my fingers quickly told me that she was wet with anticipation.
I moved in close and lifted one of her legs so that I could impale her on my now rampant penis. As I entered her, I lifted her other leg so that her weight was now shared between me and her arms tied aloft to the top of the post. With an arm under each leg, I was able to move her up and down to achieve maximum enjoyment for both of us. We had made love a number of times with her backed up against a wall and I knew from that experience that this can be quite a tiring position, at least for me!
Although Annabel was now able to support at least some of her weight on her arms, I still wanted to achieve a climax sooner rather than later, and indeed this happened, with Annabel achieving an orgasm at almost the same instant that I ejaculated my load into her. We joined mouths in a long and satisfying kiss and, as my penis subsided, I was able to lower her to the ground, then reached up to remove the blindfold and untied her hands. She wrapped her arms round me and we hugged each other with the passion that a truly loving couple can achieve.
Another occasion when I used the post as bondage furniture was when I again surprised Annabel coming out of the shower one late afternoon, bound a scarf round her eyes and then, taking hold of her hands, led her into the kitchen. This time I turned her round, pulled her arms behind the post and tied her wrists together with another scarf.
I then fetched the roll of cling film which we kept in a cupboard in the kitchen and, quickly pulling a length loose, wrapped it round her ankles and the post and continued round and round up her legs, accompanied by squeals from Annabel of “what are you doing?” and “what on earth are you wrapping me in?” I moved swiftly upwards to her thighs, successfully stopping her attempts at wriggling to and fro from loosening the wrapping, then round her crotch, belly and waist and then nice and tightly round her breasts, squashing them against her chest in a very sexy way.
When I got to her shoulders, I stopped pulling the film so tight so that there was just a loose wrapping around her neck before I surprised her by pulling it very tight round her mouth and chin and just under her nose, continuing with two or three layers and so very effectively gagging her. She was still wearing the scarf blindfold, so at this point I removed it and Annabel blinked in the light and then glared at me while also trying to move her mouth and lips in order to say something to me.
Nothing very coherent emerged, which was probably just as well because I doubted she had anything complimentary to say. I therefore continued with the wrapping, avoiding her nostrils but then over her eyes and forehead binding her head firmly to the post. Despite the cling film over her eyes, I reckoned that she would still have a rather blurred view of the kitchen and so would know that I was again videoing the proceedings and was also using a still camera to take pictures of my mummified wife. Muffled protesting sounds confirmed that supposition.
I then fetched our battery-powered Hitachi wand and, sliding it between the layers of cling film, positioned it tightly against her crotch, pushing it between her legs to contact her clitoris, and switched it on. While Annabel squealed some more and then started to intersperse the squeals with moans, I poured myself a glass of wine and sat down on a kitchen chair to enjoy the show! And I wasn’t disappointed, as, although quite tightly bound to the post, Annabel was moving her body to and fro and side to side the small amount that was possible, all the while vocalising in the most delightful manner, which I continued capturing on my video camera.
As the minutes passed, I could see beadlets of sweat appearing on the inside of the cling film as Annabel warmed up under the influence of both the tight wrapping and the effect of the Hitachi wand vibrating against her clitoris. Eventually, the inevitable happened and Annabel climaxed long, hard and noisily, followed by slumping in her wrapping. I thought she had probably suffered (or enjoyed!) enough, so I switched the wand off, picked up a pair of kitchen scissors and ran them down the back of the post slicing the cling film layers apart. On untying the scarf around her wrists, she fell forward into my arms, still flushed and breathing heavily, but with enough energy to mutter “you bastard," a couple of times, before disappearing to have another, much-needed, shower.
As I now stood there welded to the post, completely covered in black rubber, except for my mouth, I had plenty of time to think about the wonderful sexy life that Annabel and I had together, particularly since we added rubber and bondage, which we both so enjoyed, and as equal partners, without one always being dominant and the other submissive, but acting as either according to how the mood took us. Thus, here I was, completely, and willingly, at the mercy of Annabel, captured by her, bound by her, at her total mercy, and yet knowing that she was caring for me (in a manner of speaking), being totally in command yet being loving and not cruel.
I remembered the time when we acquired our pair of ball mittens which were preventing me from using my hands, folded as they were into fists and tightly covered by black rubber. We had seen the mitts illustrated in the catalogue of an online store from which we had bought a number of items, and both of us felt they would be a fun addition to our bondage toys.
They arrived by post and, when we went to bed that evening, I took them into the bedroom with me and suggested to Annabel that she tried them on. She demurred and said that she thought I ought to be the guinea pig. However, I grasped one of her hands, rolled the fingers into a fist and then pushed it into one of the mitts. It fitted easily, so I reached across for her other hand and soon had it inside the other mitt. Annabel flexed her hands, examined the mitts and said that they were not uncomfortable, so I quickly got hold of one of them again and did up the buckle which was attached to the mitt where it narrowed round the wrist, and before she could protest had done the same with the other one. I had caught Annabel unawares and she now wore both mitts, both buckled up, and she quickly discovered that her hands were useless and that it was impossible for her to undo the buckles with her teeth.
As I smiled broadly at my entrapped wife, she squared up to me holding her hands up with the mitts and threw a punch at me. My naked darling was sitting up in bed beside me and acting like a boxer with her hands in the rubber mitts! I wasn’t going to tolerate being punched by her, so quickly grabbed both wrists, brought them round behind her back and clipped them together using the dog clip which dangled from one strap to attach it to the metal ring on the other strap. I’m not sure that Annabel had noticed this neat, and very effective, way of immobilising the mitt wearer.
Annabel was now very much at my mercy and so I indulged in a quick bout of tickling followed by stroking and fondling first her breasts and then more intimate places. Before too long, Annabel was on her back with me on top of her performing what we liked best, then we switched so that I was on my back and Annabel was riding me with her mittened hands fastened behind her back. This clearly seemed as much a turn on for her as it did for me, and our love-making was vigorous and quite noisy, and our joint climaxes were achieved with their usual inevitability.
When it was over, I teased her for a short while about leaving her all night with her hands enclosed in the mittens and her arms pinned behind her back, but eventually relented and unclipped the mittens and removed them from her hands, though not before we had promised each other further use of them, which we agreed were a wonderful addition to our bondage toys, and, in Annabel’s case, revenge!
At last, I heard the front door open and close and Annabel’s footsteps on the stairs. The first thing I felt was the gag being replaced in my mouth, followed by the gag being inflated to fill my mouth and again prevent me making any sounds apart from grunts. Then, there was a sudden bright light causing me to involuntarily close my eyes as my blindfold was removed, and there was Annabel smiling at me.
She was still wearing her black rubber raincoat and sou’wester and her black rubber knee-length boots, and I was then treated to her slowly removing these outer garments, followed by the jumper, skirt and woollen tights to reveal her tightly fitting catsuit. It was now a little after 3.00 pm and I wondered whether any of the people serving her in the shops she had entered, or, more particularly, the friends she had lunched with, had had any inkling that she was wearing a rubber catsuit under her normal clothes.
Her next action was to remove the bottle into which I had peed, and then remove the cock-and-ball sheath. I felt my penis swell and then some more, as Annabel wrapped her hands round it and stroked it gently up and down. I moaned into my gag and Annabel said, “is that what you want, as a reward for being my rubber prisoner for so long?” I made a noise through the gag which I hoped she would interpret as a yes. She then walked out of the kitchen in the direction of the bedroom, soon to return having pulled on a black rubber hood with just her eyes and mouth showing and pulling on black rubber gloves so that, apart from my penis, we were now both fully covered in tight black rubber. But I was to see no more, as Annabel once more attached my blindfold and I was left with my mental picture of my black rubber-clad wife.
Unbeknownst to me, at this point Annabel fixed up the video camera and we subsequently watched what can only be described as a piece of home-made pornography. It opens with a shot of this black rubber-clad man tightly strapped to the post in the middle of the room with just his erect penis left uncovered. Then, this black rubber-clad female comes into view and approaches the man before leaning against him, stroking him, his head, face, shoulders and upper arms, his chest and on down to his waist and below.
I could feel all this and, even though there were two layers of rubber between her hands and my skin, it was both sensuous and stimulating. The black rubber-clad female then sinks to her knees in front of the man and takes his penis (my penis!) into her hands and begins to stroke it up and down. It has been difficult for us to watch the video without immediately wanting to copy the scene, not necessarily dressed in rubber but just with me lying back and Annabel’s hands busy at their work. It is that sexy.
In the video, the black rubber-clad woman takes the now fully erect penis into her mouth. The moment when her warm lips enveloped my penis just added to the extreme sensation that I was already experiencing. I was blind and I was almost mute (apart from being able to moan) and every nerve ending seemed to lie in my penis which was now being licked and sucked by someone who knew exactly what they were doing. Annabel has considerable expertise in bringing me off and does so pretty much every day through her monthly periods. She also swallows more or less every time. On the video, because I was so tightly strapped that I couldn’t move my hips to thrust in time with her licking and sucking, it is not visually so obvious when I came, as came I did very forcibly, but you can hear my moans suddenly increase in volume as I climaxed.
Annabel stayed in position on her knees with my penis still in her mouth as she swallowed my fluids and as my penis gradually subsided. Then, she let go of it, stood up, kissed me on the nose above my gag and moved out of the picture to turn off the camera. We’ve actually debated whether to upload the video on to a porn channel to let others share the amazing scenes, but have so far not done so. It remains just our own memory.
Just as when I climaxed inside Annabel the night before, having done so now I urgently need to be released as the tension slackened and my penis was no longer the sole object of my physical feelings. Again, just as the night before, if I am not released, then after a short while, the desire to be released gradually wanes and I can relax back into my bondage.
On this occasion, I suddenly felt Annabel release the strap holding my head against the post, followed by the next one, round my chest and upper arms, and then the remainder down to my ankles. The last strap was the one round my wrists holding my mittened hands behind the post. Having been as one with the post for over six hours, I was quite stiff and Annabel had to support me as I got my legs working and was able, at last, to stretch my arms.
My blindfold and gag were next to be removed and then Annabel, still making sure I could walk OK, guided me towards the bathroom where she turned on the shower and first peeled off her own rubber catsuit, which she had been wearing since before she went out about mid-morning, and then removed the small padlock joining the zips of my own catsuit and hood, as well as undoing the straps holding the rubber mittens on my hands.
Next, there was that moment of suddenly shivering as the mittens, catsuit and hood were removed, exposing my sweat-covered skin to the cool air of the bathroom. The final act of stepping together into the warm water of the shower brought to an end much the longest period I had both been dressed all over in rubber and at the same time restrained, quite lightly overnight, but quite stringently for the last six hours or more.
I am blessed with an understanding wife who shares with me a love of rubber and bondage. We’re neither of us dominant over or submissive to the other, just equal partners in something that hugely enhances our love life. It is obvious that Annabel played the dominant last night and today, but she has been (and will be again) subject to scenarios that stimulated and satisfied her just as she has subjected me (and will, I know, do so again).