Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Trapped by Eros

by Pleasewrap

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© Copyright 2005 - Pleasewrap - Used by permission

Storycodes: FF/m; store; strip; latex; straitjacket; captive; bond; legbinder; gag; bfold; box; foam; packaged; delivery; cons/reluct; X

The following is a work of fiction involving adult themes. If you aren’t interested in bondage and erotica, please go elsewhere. I should also point out that I’ve never been to Eros boutique, I don’t know if they employ anyone name Margaret, and that I’m creating the descriptions that followed from whole cloth. This story was originally started for a contest they sponsored, but wasn’t completed in time for submission. I will happily remove the references to the store upon request. 

(This story is part 13 & 14 of Lydia & Me)

Chapter 13 - Trapped by Eros

There are some places that just reek of history, projecting a character all of their own. While I’d heard that about New York, mostly it struck me as reeking of money, aggression, and a very “Whadda you want?” type of attitude. Don’t ask me why – it could have been the fact that I was always there for business and tended to be in the downtown Manhattan area, so I’d never had a chance to really be a tourist there. Not so Boston. The first time I’d been there, I’d fallen in love with the city. It seemed to reek of our national history, of immigrants making good in a new country, and of an almost old-world charm that reminded me in ways of my limited time in Great Britain. 

So when we’d gotten a referral from one of my clients that would pull Lydia and I there for at least a month, I jumped at the chance. We’d finally decided to hire Dave, relationship with Jane or no, and he was providing us great help both with clients and acting as a sort of business manager. Suddenly the burdens of running a company weren’t quite so burdensome, and I had greater time to enjoy myself without worrying about the office, our growing employee base, and paying the bills. The chance to do “real work” in the form of reviewing code for security holes while my wife tackled the infrastructure in a city I loved to visit was just too great an opportunity to pass up. 

So we settled on a mix of work and fun since we’d been without a real vacation for the better part of two years. Lydia was starting to make noises about getting a family going, an idea that was beginning to have its attractions, and I figured that if that happened, we’d almost certainly be extending that streak. We accepted the project, and decided that driving there would both be more fun than flying and allow us to bring along some toys that the Transportation Safety Administration would certainly have some fun inspecting in our checked bags. We rented a house at a reasonable price for six weeks, packed up for the journey, and headed out. 

While we were busy during the week, the weekends were ours and we made the most of it. The hours were fairly long for both of us, largely because what the client had thought was secure didn’t pass muster. You’d have a harder time sneaking across the Canadian-US border than hacking through some of their systems and code. That was both alarming, from a “What were you thinking?” perspective, and something of a benefit since it resulted in an extension of the contract and some hefty performance bonuses that the contract called for if we found serious issues. 

After three weeks, I’d completed the code review and literally had nothing to do until the bug fixes had been written and the new code was ready for testing. Not so lucky with Lydia – the infrastructure was a mess and she was expecting that the security manager was about to get fired, which would only add to the work she’d have to do. So the vacation piece of the puzzle hadn’t quite worked out yet for the two of us. I’d just spent two days sight-seeing and visiting various Revolutionary War sites and was looking forward to a Saturday with my wife. Rather than getting the bug fixes to me piecemeal, they were all going to show up in a single package, so I was at least another three working days before I’d have work to do again. I woke up on Saturday looking forward to a day with my wife, and hoping that we’d spend only a portion of it outside of our place. It’d been a very busy week for her, and we hadn’t had much private time with her in the right mood. 

The day started well enough, a leisurely breakfast over the paper, with much discussion of the museums she wanted to visit and things we want to do. I was starting to clean up the dishes when she said “We could always visit a boutique I heard about, too.” 

I didn’t try to stifle my groan or the way I rolled my eyes. I absolutely despise shopping, and while watching Lydia change clothes can be fun, I really had been hoping for a bit more than that both in terms of enjoying the day’s events and seeing something “worth seeing.” 

She laughed at my reaction and didn’t let me get a word in before she said, “Don’t be such a grump. It’s one day and I bet you’ll end up enjoying it.” 

Just then, her cell phone rang and I figured that any hope of a fun day had just gone down the tubes. Odds were it was our client and odds were even better that they were looking for her to do something today. I was right on both accounts. 

“They’re firing Denny on Monday,” she said as she hung up the phone and started writing something down. “They want me to talk to them about the right skills for a replacement and review some resumes they’ve got from folks that were over-qualified for other jobs. It won’t take long. I’ll meet you at this address at noon and we’ll get our day going, OK?” 

I grumbled a bit but Lydia wasn’t having any of it – she was already on her way to the shower. I grabbed the champagne I had been about to put in the fridge and started making myself another mimosa. If I was going to be stuck shopping, being a little tipsy might not be a bad thing and the address on Tremont street made me pretty comfortable that there would be a T stop within walking distance. I went back to the paper and Lydia decided to leave me be while she rushed to get ready and get out the door. A quick “See you at noon” and a kiss and she was out the door less than twenty minutes later. 

I glanced at the clock and the half bottle of champagne that was still left after the two or three I’d already hade. I hadn’t spent a lot of time in the South End, so I decided I’d get ready now, read the rest of the paper and finish the bubbly, and still have at least an hour to wander around before I needed to meet Lydia. My game plan set, I started executing on it, working on killing the bottle at the same time. 

When I got of the “T,” I was more than a bit surprised to find myself staring at the address I’d been given right outside the Tremont Street station. While I’d planned on doing a bit of wandering and it was just after 11:00, I decided that a preview of what was in store for me when my lovely wife finally arrived. I headed for the building. I was a bit tipsy, and didn’t bother to look much at signs, so it was a bit of a surprise to find myself in front of “Eros Boutique” when I found the address. I immediately started to smile. Lydia’s shopping trip was for new toys, not for clothes. 

I was glancing through the door when I heard someone say “We don’t open until noon today. Mind letting me by so I can get in there to make sure that happens?” 

An attractive young woman with a backpack over one shoulder stood there with a key ring in her hands. She was smiling as though she was used to finding someone ogling through the window and then running away when discovered. I grinned. 

“Sorry. I’m meeting my wife here in an hour and just had the address. She hadn’t told me what type of boutique you’ve got and curiosity got the better of me.” 

The booze definitely had my tongue running a bit. Usually, I’d just have said “Excuse me,” and gotten out of the way. 

“Your wife was going to surprise you, eh? And you ruined it.” She fitted her key in the one of the locks and began opening the door. “You from out of town?” 

I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make conversation, so I went ahead. “Yep. We’re here on business and get the weekends for fun. Well, at least some of that time, anyway. How could you tell?” 

She smiled her charming smile as she bent to unlock the bolt at the bottom of the door. “We’re a bit famous among the locals. Well, you want a chance to surprise her? I’ve a soft spot for visitors and you look harmless. I could let you do a bit of browsing until she gets here. What’s your wife’s name?” 

My curiosity was definitely piqued, and I hadn’t anything better to do, so I happily agreed and let my tongue continue running along. “Lydia, and that’d be great.” 

Now, Lydia and I are definitely into bondage, but latex had never particularly entered the picture. If she had a fetish for it, she hadn’t expressed it as yet and we’d been together long enough (and been adventurous enough) that I was a bit surprised to find that the shop contained scads of rubber and latex items. Dresses with a distinctly sexual cut, form hugging catsuits and shorts, and rubber bondage items of various flavors. While I wouldn’t have minded seeing Lydia in any small number of the outfits, it was the bondage items that drew my alcohol befuddled (and now more than slightly horny) attention. 

I’m a huge fan of mummification, but the mannequin wearing latex straightjacket and leg binder caught my attention more than the sleep sack. Our leather straightjacket is a favorite of mine for simplicity and complete inability to escape, so my mind promptly wandered to how the rubber would alter the sensation. Three quarters of a bottle of champagne, the thought that my lovely wife would soon be here, and the immediate presence of the items themselves put my libido and imagination into overdrive almost at once. 

I let that thought run for a moment when I heard the phone ringing somewhere in the store. The noise shook me out of my reverie and put me back “on the hunt” for interesting items. Just a few feet from the mannequin I’d been staring at was a rack with “Bondage Strips,” which promptly got the imagination going once again. Long strips of latex that one could wrap around the body until the subject was restrained to taste had an amazing number of possibilities. Still, the straightjacket and binder kept creeping back in to my mind, and I couldn’t help but stare at them. 

“Find something you like?” 

I nearly jumped when the lovely young woman that had opened the store spoke behind me. My thoughts had absorbed so much of my attention that I hadn’t noticed she had walked my way. She had a box in her hands, obviously about to restock some items. 

“There are some distinct… possibilities that spring to mind,” I replied smiling. 

“Well, that’s good. I wouldn’t mind making a sale before we even open. I’m Margaret. Can I help with anything…” 

“Ray. I probably should just wait for my wife to arrive. It’s really her shopping trip.” 

She put the box down and noticed that I still looked in the direction of the mannequin that had caught my eye. 

“Is that for you or for her? Lydia, wasn’t it?” 

“If we could do both, that’d be best. We switch around as the mood strikes us.” 

Margaret smiled and approached the shelves near the mannequin. “Well if she’s about your height, then that’s a distinct possibility. The latex gives a bit and it’s a unisex design. Have you ever worn a straightjacket yourself?” 

I smiled to myself as she started rummaging through the stacks next to the display. 

“We’ve got a leather one that works for both of us. It barely fits her snugly.” 

“Ohhh, then you just have to try one of ours. The leather leaves a good amount of room even if you strap all the straps up tight. Latex makes it like you’ve been tied up in your own skin.” 

The thought hadn’t really occurred to me – the rubber wouldn’t leave the space between the skin and the jacket that the leather would. The booze and imagination kicked in and started pumping blood to an area of my body that one doesn’t discuss in polite society. 

Margaret stood with one of the jackets in her hands. “If I let you try it on in the back and it’s a good fit, would you buy it?” She had a lovely smile, and I could see that she’d had some experience both with the merchandise and sales. 

Now I’m not the adventurous one in my marriage. At least, not unless I’ve drunk a bit too much and I happen to be getting horny, apparently. I glanced at my watch and was surprised that it was only a bit after 11:15. It had seemed longer as I wandered about the store, but I really hadn’t spent much time anywhere but where I was at the moment. The booze kicked my curiosity into high gear, and for reasons that I still can’t completely explain I said. “Sure.” 

We headed towards the back of the store, making a bit of small talk about why we were in town and what sights we’d seen. If I weren’t slightly boozed, it would have struck me as quite odd. We walked through a non-descript door tucked out of the way and into what was obviously a stockroom. Margaret pointed to another door and said, “That’s the office. Why don’t we go in there in case anyone else shows up for work. They’re not due for about fifteen minutes, but since I’m the only one with a key to that door today, it’ll be safer.” 

We walked in and she suggested that I strip to my underwear. “It won’t feel right over your clothes.” For reasons that escape explanation, I complied without hesitating. Margaret handed me a bottle of powder and said “It’ll be easier to get on if you put some of this on your arms and torso.” Again, I eagerly complied. 

She held the jacket open for me, and I squirmed my arms into the sleeves. It was a bit of work to fit them in, since the latex gripped them tightly. Right away, I could tell that this would be quite different from our other experiences at home. The sleeves were quite snug and really did fit like a second skin, just as Margaret had said it would. 

“Grabs you nice and tight, doesn’t it?” she asked. “It only gets better. The whole thing ends up like that.” 

She moved around behind me once my arms were properly inserted, and started doing up the zipper and straps, talking as she did. “You’ll notice the zipper has a protective guard to keep it from catching hair or skin. And we hem all of the seams to add strength. Latex is a wonderful material, but it can be fragile, so the straps are all canvas covered to make them secure and impossible to tear. Arms, please.” 

I was almost literally lost in my feelings and hadn’t noticed that she’d finished off the straps in back. I crossed my arms without thinking, and felt her grab the straps at the end of the sleeves and pulled them around back. The feeling of the rubber was almost electric, as though static electricity generated by putting the garment on were somehow being transmitted into my body. I suppressed the urge to moan as she finished with the arm straps and moved on to the crotch straps. Just as the second one was finished, the phone rang again. 

She moved around in front of me and smiled. “I’ve got to get that, but I’ll do it out front so you can experiment without raising any suspicious. Wouldn’t do to have to explain the noise to my boss if that’s who’s on the phone.” 

She walked out the door and I started testing my range of motion. Simply put, it didn’t exist to any real extent. I could move my elbows a bit, but not far enough to make a damned bit of difference. And every motion caused tension to appear in one area and disappear in another. It was like being mummified in many ways, but different. I would definitely enjoy taking this home, the feeling of complete enclosure was incredible since the latex gripped every part of my torso and arms as though molded to my skin. I struggled experimentally and definitely wasn’t getting loose. 

While I was enjoying the feeling, I was getting a bit worried about how long Margaret had been gone. The clock over the desk said that it had been almost five minutes, and while I love being restrained, I really want Lydia to be the one doing it. And it was getting to be close to the time she was due to arrive. I certainly wouldn’t want her to somehow find me like this. She’s adventurous, but we’re distinctly monogamous so I had no expectation that me in my underwear and a latex straightjacket in the back room of her chosen shopping trip would do anything to make her happy. 

Just as the thought crossed my mind, Margaret reappeared with a box in her hand. She grinned at me and said “Sorry to take so long, but that was the boss. He’s not normally in on a Saturday, but he’ll be swinging by and wanted some things waiting for him.” She walked to the desk as she said this and placed the box there. 

“Not a problem,” I replied. “But I think I should get out of this before I get ripe. It’s a bit warm.” This was at least partially true, since the latex was doing an excellent job of trapping my body heat. 

“That’s fine. Glad to help if it nets us a sale. Turn around so I can get at the straps.” 

I obliged, and she apparently bumped the box as she moved around the desk towards me because it fell on the floor. Being fairly sizable box, it fell with a decent amount of noise and the top opened slightly. “Clumsy of me,” she said as she picked it up. I looked away and closed my eyes. I was imagining Lydia sealing me in this thing and having her way with me for a while. 

I felt a tug on the right crotch strap and exhaled as my release began. Or at least, what I thought would be my release. Instead, the belt tightened and I could feel the buckle being done up again. I turned my head a bit and said “Umm. That seems to be the wrong way.” 

She grinned at me and said, “I just wanted to see if it could go one notch further. That much more restrictive, that much more sensual.” The look on her face was pure mischief. 

“Well, now you know. If you’d…” I never got to finish the sentence as she quickly produced what looked like a rag and jammed it into my mouth. I was about to try to bite her fingers when she looked a bit stern and said, “You’re not in a position to say ‘No’ unless you’re a kick-boxer by trade. Behave and you’ll get free eventually.” 

That stopped me cold. While I could complain to the police, I really wasn’t wild on the story I’d have to tell. “Yes, officer, I did let her put me in that. But I can explain…” Hardly the way to file a report. I decided that it was unlikely she’d be able, or necessarily even willing, to do me any harm in such a public place. And I’d made myself helpless in front of her, so all I could really do was curse drinking too much too early and being an idiot. I let her press the rag into my mouth until it filled it snugly without being too deep. 

The boss’s box turned out to be her supplies. One of the bondage strips appeared and was taken out of the package. That went snugly around my jaw, then my eyes, and was finally wrapped several times from below my jaw to above my head. While not a hood, it was equally effective at both blinding me and keeping my gag in place. 

I nearly jumped when the door opened. Margaret laughed and said, “Come on in. He’s almost ready.” 

I struggled more than a bit at that, but someone grabbed my arms and Margaret said, “Too late for that now. Behave.” I tried to express my displeasure vocally, but that didn’t work out any better. 

“Legs first. Let’s not have him get frisky,” Margaret said. My ankles were pushed together and I felt latex being wrapped about them. I assumed it was another one of the bondage strips, but I’d no real way of knowing. 

“Come take care of the front straps, would you,” Margaret said and I heard the sound of steps move around me. Then I felt first one and then the other crotchstrap being loosened. I tested for slack, but apparently she and her mystery partner were holding them securely to prevent me from lifting the bottom of the jacket up. Then I felt someone start to tug down on my only remaining clothing – my underwear. I struggled as mightily as I could, but there wasn’t much I could do. I groaned, embarrassed that my excitement at the situation was overcoming my fear to at least some extent. My body was giving that away in unmistakable terms. 

My underwear made it to the top of the bindings around my ankles and stopped there. Then the crotchstraps were passed back through my legs and re-buckled. Whoever was in front of me took care not to touch my engorged member, though it was impossible to tell if that was on purpose or not. Regardless, they were now being quite business-like in their binding. 

“Stay there. You can handle this part,” said Margaret. I heard her rummaging around behind me and assumed that the box she’d brought in hadn’t been for her boss, but had been for me. I felt her wrap something around my waist, which was promptly tightened. 

“Picked this out himself, he did,” said Margaret with a chuckle. As the zipper was being done up I knew exactly what it was – the rubber leg binder that the mannequin I’d been ogling had been wearing. I heard suppressed laugh in front of me as the zipper drew the binder tight about my legs, then stopped just below the knees. The binding at my ankles was removed, followed by the underwear. Then the zipper completed its journey towards my feet to the limit of its movement. I contemplated trying to kick and get away, but with the zipper at my knees, I was only likely to fall over. I was well and truly stuck. The zipper done up, I could feel the straps on the binder being secured quite tightly, and couldn’t help but get more excited with the feeling of the latex on my naked manhood. If I weren’t being kidnapped, I’d have been in heaven. 

There was the sound of an office chair rolling across the linoleum and I was pushed until I sat in it. Then I heard Margaret say, “There you go. All ready for shipping. I’ll go ring this stuff up.” 

I really started to struggle now – I wasn’t about to become someone’s kidnapped sex toy without some type of a fight. As I heard Margaret walk out the door, laughing a bit to herself, I felt her companion sit on my lap and press my shoulders back into the chair to hold me still. I thrashed a bit more, then ceased and let loose with a string of muffled profanity that would have made a sailor blush. 

The bondage strip about my head was suddenly being unwound, so I ceased my thrashing and cursing. The latex gripped me far too tightly and the struggling was actually only making my erection that much more potent. And if I did behave, then perhaps I’d get the chance to talk my way out of this mess. The unwrapping finally reached my eyes and I blinked at the sudden brightness. I was about to protest that it had stopped before removing my gag when I felt my face flush with embarrassment. 

Lydia was sitting on my lap, grinning like the Cheshire cat. 

“You’re hopelessly stupid sometimes, you know that? It’s a good thing Margaret’s an old friend of Jane’s or you’d really be up a creek. And for me, it’s a good thing you’re predictable or this wouldn’t have been so much fun for me.” Her hand brushed against my privates, eliciting a strong reaction. 

She stood and backed up a few steps to take my bound form in. “Absolutely stunning, dear. And I can tell that you simply can’t stand the feeling.” 

She walked around behind me and started running her hands over my shoulders and arms. “That’s quite different from the leather, isn’t it? Seems tighter and perhaps a bit sexier.” 

As she reappeared, I tried to convince her through my gag that it was time to remove it so we could talk. She did reach for the strip around my head, but only to wrap it back up and blind me again. I felt her lean close, her bosom brushing against my chest. She whispered, “Margaret tells me they have a box that ought to fit you, so I think I’ll leave you like this for the trip home. I’ll be back after I’ve settled the tab and maybe taken a quick look around.” 

As I heard the door close, I struggled in my confinement. Maybe I could grow to enjoy shopping after all…

Chapter 14 : What was that tracking number?

At the very least, the chair was comfortable. Well, that, and I knew that I wasn’t about to be sold into slavery to some latex-loving dominatrix in Bermuda. Or Braintree, for that matter – I’d be unlikely to be lucky enough to land a prime tropical local with my luck. Other than that, I was beginning to phase out of “enjoyment” and into “annoyance” as I sat in the back room, bound in latex and waiting for my wife. Probably, the booze was starting to wear off a bit and the possible humiliation of being found this way by a stranger – OK, another stranger, Margaret had already fulfilled that part – was starting to gnaw at me. 

So I sat in the office chair I’d been parked in, the latex straightjacket and leg binder ensuring that I wouldn’t be going anywhere and started working on not fuming or otherwise doing things to get out of the right mood. Lydia would be sure to take good care of me, both here and when we made it home. The discussion of a large box was a bit ominous, but… 

As if on cue, I could hear the door open and the sound of two relatively hushed voices, coupled with the sound of rubber wheels on the tile floor. All slightly muffled by the latex strip wrapped around my head to simultaneously secure the gag in my mouth and act as a blindfold. I hmmphed and garumphed a bit, twisting as I did and nearly managing to fall out of the wheeled chair, which agreeably started sliding as I struggled. I stopped rapidly, glad that the strip hid my face and the blush that arose as the girls giggled at me. 

Lydia’s voice reached me through my embarrassment, “I’m afraid your trapped and about to be made ready for shipping, dear. Make sure to ask for a tracking number, or I might never get you back.” 

More laughter, more protestations from me to no effect, and then I heard what must have been the two of them getting things prepared. 

“Cut it here?” 

“No there, and all the way across. I think this will work fine this way. Where do you get this? It’s huge.” 

“Some suppliers only ship large orders to us, so we occasionally have them around. Are you sure that’s what you want? I can’t undo it…” 

“Yep. I had an inspiration in your furniture section that should keep it all safe and sound. Damn. I wanted one of those pillows and forgot to get it.” 

“Top shelf to your left. Don’t sweat the cost. We had a shipment that came in with odd coloring and they’ve become ‘free samples’ for customers.” 

“You’re a dear.” 

The simplicity of the conversation finally got to me, and I started to laugh, which sounds awfully silly when gagged. Lydia recognized the sound immediately and came to sit in my lap. 

“Think this is humorous, do you? Well, we’ll just have to see how long I should leave you that way before you think it isn’t funny.” 

My wife has a marvelous mischievous tone that creeps into her voice when she’s playing the dominant, and it never ceases to drive me wild. My previous frustration and anger faded to nothing, and I wished that Margaret would leave the room so that Lydia could have her way with me right now. 

Sadly, she almost immediately slid off my lap and resumed her instructions. 

“OK, that half in there now, then the pillow above. Then those go in right up to here.” 

“Ahhh. I see where this is going. Let me grab that towel.” 

Rustling noises started, stopped, started again, then repeated that sequence two more times. 

“That ought to be enough. Probably time to switch Ray’s gag, Lydia. It’ll be hard to do once he’s in.” 

I again attempted verbal communication, only to be spun around in my chair to face the other direction. Lydia’s voice was a whisper in my ear. 

“Now behave while I make you presentable, OK?” 

I sighed, which communicates amazing well through a gag, and nodded. 

“Eyes closed and no turning around, dearest.” 

As the strip around my head unwound, I decided to comply. Now that I was again the focus of attention, I was getting back into the spirit of things and my sense of adventure was returning. That and the fact that making Lydia angry wasn’t likely to get me the result that my libido had decided was appropriate. 

My eyes were closed as the strip came off, and I obligingly opened my mouth to let the rag/towel that had been there be removed and replaced. I immediately recognized the feel of a rubber bulb around a metal cylinder. I was being fitted with a breather gag for whatever was to come next. Normally, that’s kept in place with some saran wrap around the tube extending out of my mouth, but this was different. I felt straps go behind my head and cold metal touch my skin around my lips at the tube. A gag strap designed to accommodate the tube was tightened until secure, but not uncomfortable. Then the bondage strip was reapplied, blinding me again and providing added security that the gag wouldn’t come out. 

The chair spun again and I was facing the direction I had been before the gag had been applied. 

“I’ll need some help with this. Get over there and be ready to grab an arm. Oh, and put the towel around that there.” 

“On it,” Margaret’s muffled voice replied. I felt the straps on the leg binder loosen at my ankles and calves, followed by the zipper sliding up to my knees. Now I could walk, though with only limited range. 

“Stand up, my slave. Time to get you ready.” 

I growled at my wife through the gag, but obeyed. She slowly guided me, then said “Stop and turn around. A bit more. Good. Now two steps back. Hmmm. One more. Right there.” 

I decided now would be an appropriate moment to struggle a little bit and show some degree of defiance. Lydia laughed and pressed in close to me. Margaret’s view must have been blocked, because her hand brushed Mr. Happy as she did, which isn’t something she’d ever do in front of someone else. 

“Too late for that. Now stay right there while we get your arms.” 

Contact with me ended, replaced by the two of them gripping my arms under my shoulder and elbow. 

“All right, we’re going to lower you down. Stay on your feet as long as you can, and lean back slowly.” 

I spread my feet as far as I could for some stability, and complied with Lydia’s command. I was more than a bit curious as to what she had up her sleeve now, and didn’t bother to protest, even though I was nervous about being dropped. 

“Good, good, good, slowly. He’s going to fall now,” Margaret said. And on cue, I did. They caught me and steered me as I fell. My head landed first, on what felt like an inflatable pillow. Terry cloth touched the exposed part of my neck, though there was a slight bump from something solid underneath. The back of my legs were in contact with something stiff, though not completely solid since it gave a bit under my weight. And something with the sound of Styrofoam appeared to be under my shoulders and upper back. 

“Right on target,” Lydia said. “Let’s get his legs in before he ruins it.” 

Hands grabbed my feet and lifted them, swinging them into what was obviously a very large box. Packing peanuts shifted underneath me as I felt the zipper and straps done up once more, encasing my legs solidly. 

“Put the rest of the divider in, would you?” 

Lydia’s voice cam from the direction of my feet, and I heard Margaret move towards my head. The towel was wrapped around my neck, loosely, and then the sound of cardboard on cardboard reached my ears with the expected muffling. 

As best as I could tell, my head was now encased in some type of a cardboard stock, cut to fit my neck, with the towel providing cushioning from the edges. As the towel was adjusted to make a somewhat snug, though not tight, fit, I heard more rustling, and felt the packing peanuts start to cover my body from the feet up to the divider that now kept my head from the rest of the box. 

“I’ve got a few more bags over here. I think you’ll want him in pretty solid.” Margaret’s voice receded slightly as she spoke, so she was probably going to get them. 

I was surprised when Lydia’s voice reached me in a whisper. 

“Bound, gagged, and about to have the box strapped closed for shipping. Poor you. No toys to keep you occupied and nobody able to reach you to torture you properly.” 

I felt a kiss on my cheek through the bondage strip and groaned. She giggled and continued. 

“This ought to keep the peanuts from interfering with your breathing at all, and there are holes cut in the top. I should be hear you if you safeword.” 

The peanuts began to fall on my lower body again, and I struggled as much as I could. More giggling from my wife. 

“Of course, this package might just get lost in transit, so it could be a while before I get a chance to unwrap it. Wouldn’t that be awful? And you know the worst part? Lydia’s shippers only provide tracking numbers to the people who are actually being shipped, so it’s difficult to trace anything.” 

Another kiss on my cheek, and I heard her say to Margaret, “Can you get the straps on while I pull the Suburban up to your loading dock? I think we’re out of saran wrap and duct tape at the house, and I want to look at a map before I go.” 

As I heard the flaps cover the box and the straps being drawn about the box, I struggled. The peanuts shifted slightly, but held me quite firmly. The friction on my manhood was both rough and moderately pleasing at the same time. As the straps sealed me in, I grinned in my gag and tried to calculate how long it would take to get home. 

I just hoped we wouldn’t need that tracking number after all. Particularly since she’d forgotten to actually give it to me…


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