Changing Spaces Holiday Marathon
Highly readable account of a pixie-ish home decorating diva who, along with a
woman carpenter friend, works to satisfy her master, the narrator. M/f+, BDSM,
spoof, lingerie, toys, consensual, reluctant.
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Chapter I - While You Were Out
Up to and including Wednesday
I was thrilled to be coming home from a week-long computer convention in Las
Vegas. It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I had been watching the airline
stewardess, a lithe, sexy woman, bend and twist to serve the passengers, and I
wanted nothing more than to get home and bury my erect dick in my new wife.
She met me at the door with a great grin on her face and a big passionate kiss.
"Come on," she said, tugging at my hand.
Maybe you've seen that cable show? You know, where the husband goes away for a
weekend and the wife and a remodeling team redo a room in the house? It's like
that other popular show where couples work on each other's houses, then come
back home for a grand unveiling.
My wife Mindy in fact looks a lot like that host on that second show. She's a
thin, pixie-ish woman, always smiling, bundle of energy. Thin-waisted, tight
butt, heavy-breasted, and a shaggy, very stylish short hair-do.
Mindy loves to decorate and remodel. She has a tremendous talent for color and
an eye for design. She's a talented seamstress/tailor, always reupholstering
something, taking in her own clothes, cuffing my trousers. She haunts the
weekend garage sales for bargains.
I had already detected the slight scent of fresh paint and some thing more
acrid. Plastic, maybe? She led me down the back kitchen stairs to the basement.
"Ta da!" Our barebones basement had been transformed. It was never very
hospitable, with concrete walls and bare floor joists overhead. But now it
looked like a fashionable family room. New carpet (the plastic smell) adorned
the floor; finished walls featured fresh paint in an unusual warm tone. The
ceiling had been finished.
The TV/VCR was in a new-to-us boxy armoire, with three drawers under it. There
was a desk with straight-backed chair, a wooden slat recliner, a huge dartboard
on one wall. Facing the TV was a futon-style sofa, behind an unusually heavy,
boxy coffee table. Even the supporting post in the room had been carpeted over.
"This is awesome," I said, bounding around the room, glancing into the adjoining
bathroom, taking in the window treatments and more. Mindy's needle and thread
had turned out stylish curtains covering our high windows. "You didn't do all
this work by yourself?"
"I had a contractor do the ceiling and help with the walls. And the carpet was
put down by professionals," she said, one hand holding the newly carpeted post.
"But I did the rest, with some help from Amy Lynn. " Mindy and Amy Lynn were
long-time friends; beautiful with long dark hair, Amy Lynn was a trained
carpenter.
"You like it?" she asked, fishing for more compliments
"How much did you spend?"
"Under four figures, of course."
"Let me show you how much I like it," I growled, seizing her up in my arms.
She pushed me away. "Tonight's bad for me," she said coyly.
While I was disappointed (read: frustrated), I let the matter drop. I was so
pleased with the tremendous amount of work she had done. Truth be told, I was
very tired myself. Guess I can't control monthly cycles, I thought.
Monday and Tuesday were busy catching up on work. Wednesday afternoon, Mindy
called asking when I'd be getting home. "Soon," I said. "I've worked essentially
11 days in a row. I'm out of here early today."
"Good," my sexy wife breathed across the wires, "I've got a surprise for you."
I broke several traffic laws getting home.
When I came in, she was nowhere in sight, but once doors closed and briefcase
dropped behind the sofa, Mindy made her appearance.
She wore a diaphanous half-skirt, starting at each hip and trailing behind her,
almost like a cape. It swept from a lavender bustier that Mindy had precisely
fitted to her trim figure, highlighting her cleavage. Matching panties were
pulled snug, highlighting her sex. She wore 2-inch strappy heels, and no
stockings. Heavy make-up highlighted her cheekbones and delightful large eyes.
She kissed me on the cheek and then pressed a cocktail glass into my hand.
"Here, drink this while you change."
I threw my clothes all over the bedroom, slugged down the vodka, ran a
toothbrush through my mouth in record time, and pulled on the fitted karate
pants she had left out for me. Some time ago, she had carefully taken them in as
well, fitting my crotch especially snug. She said she loved the way the material
outlined my erect cock and balls.
She led me down those kitchen stairs, and I thought, a-ha, we're going to break
in the new room. But what met my eyes dazzled me anew.
It was the same room, but somehow different. The warm rosy walls were turned an
angry purple. I saw that the usual lamps were dark, that she had turned on only
the sconce lighting which had been fitted with a few purple bulbs. It was a very
different mood: darker but more intimate. Delicate candles burned throughout,
throwing off a heady fragrance and adding to the mood.
The futon mattress had been pushed off the frame. The frame unit had been placed
atop the heavy coffee table, and laid open. A thin mattress lay atop it.
"See?" She was looking for my reaction. "Multi-purpose." she said simply.
This was a bona-fide dungeon.
Mindy handed me a thin belt strap. I could see it was made of seatbelt material
and a simple clasp, identical to airline restraints. From the factory in the
next town, I surmised and absently ran a finger over the four rows of stitches.
No one would escape these.
She strode over to the futon rack, where belt straps lay across the body of it.
"How may I serve you, master?" she asked demurely, casting her eyes downward.
"Assume the position, slave."
Mindy climbed upon the futon rack, centering herself. I drew the first belt
across her waist, checked how it passed under the rack, and then clicked it into
its fastener. I pulled the loose strap tight and watched her tummy compress
slightly.
"Hands," I growled, and Mindy extended her hands over her head. Smaller belts
fastened her wrists to the rack. Two more small belts held her biceps. As I
pulled tighter, she emitted a tiny coo of protest.
At the foot of the unit, I paused a moment to situate her skirting, then
fastened straps to ankles and just above her knees. This bird wasn't going
anywhere.
As I pulled a final belt across her hips, she whispered, "Master, I have more
for you. See the chain around my neck?"
There was a thin chain and hanging from its center, a key. Mindy lifted her head
enough for me to remove the chain. Her eyes drifted over to the TV armoire and
for the first time I noticed the top drawer had a lock fitted. I applied key,
and opened the drawer.
It was a virtual toy box - adult toys, to be sure. I removed a few items and
went back to my tethered wife, squirming only fractionally in her tight bondage.
"You like that, don't you, princess?" I hissed at her. "Tied down, open for my
viewing, open for my touch..." I brushed her arm above her and she gasped.
"Are you... are you pleased with your slave?" she asked coyly, a slight smile on
her face.
In response, I slapped the heavy white ball gag onto her chest. All mirth fled
from her face.
"Oh, no, no please master, not that. It's much too early. I want to please
you... NO..." and the rest was muffled as I popped the large white ball behind
her teeth, and pulled the straps, fastening the ball gag around her head. Mindy
has a very large sensual mouth, and has pleased me with it for untold hours. She
claims to hate the ball gag, but it never fails that while fastened into it, she
has unbelievably passionate orgasms.
"I'll take my pleasure when and where I want it, slave," I told her as I
finished the buckle. "When I came home Sunday, I was pleased with you and
anxious for release. But you held back. You wanted to initiate this room
tonight. In the meantime, I've been horny for a week and a half. A good wife
needs to be attentive. You need to understand your duties as my sex slave."
Her eyes widened at the telling, but as I say, her nipples were growing turgid
through the thin material of her bustier, and I could almost smell the wetness
between her hot legs. My cock was an iron rod.
I ran hands over those arms, those full breasts, flat stomach, hips, and thighs.
I held her firm calves. I watched her shake her sandaled feet, helpless to move.
I carefully tugged down the bustier, freeing those luscious tits. Then I held up
a small vial. She groaned when she saw what it was, bucking anew in her straps,
shaking her head to persuade me "no."
But I wasn't to be swayed. I slowly opened the bottle, and with agonizing
precision brushed the clear liquid across the erect tits and areolas. I knew
that in a few moments the stuff would super-heat to incredible intensity, and
her breasts would feel aflame.
I held up the vibrator for her to see, then set it on its slowest speed. I
carefully laid it across her pantied crotch. While she struggled for better
purchase, her hips moved only fractionally due to the strapping. She was good
and thoroughly frustrated.
And so, I took my leave. I went into the adjoining bath and had myself a hot,
soapy shower. As I shut the glass door, I heard her nasally impotent shrieking
at the assaults to her most intimate places.
After a short shower, I toweled off, put on a robe, and returned to the dungeon.
My prize's huge eyes were half-lidded as she was overwhelmed by sensation. If
you've seen the woman on that cable remodeling show, you know she has terrific
expression-full eyes. Same with Mindy. I rarely blindfolded her, so I can enjoy
those eyes.
But still, I crossed by the open toy drawer and took a wide red scarf. I placed
one end in each of my wife's outstretched hands, and she held it taut. Should
the events get too intense for her, she would flail the scarf and drop one or
both ends to signal the end of our play.
I removed the vibrator, clicked the speed up one notch, and replaced it on her
now-soppy pantied crotch. Her brief squeal was quickly followed by a low throaty
groan. I undid the straps at her thighs, but not her ankles, and she pulled her
thighs together to try to trap the chattering vibe.
I undid the tight straps that held her elbows, and then the belt that was
driving her crazy, the tight strap at her waist. She held knees apart as I
roamed over her pussy with the vibrator.
With one pull, I ripped the panties from one hip (she could repair them later)
working the thick head of the vibrator into her hot hole. But no more than a
inch or two for my slave. Throwing off the robe, I climbed onto the awkward
rack. Her eyes widened as I towered over her with my thick, curved cock. As I
massaged her heavy breasts, and her eyes lidded over, I heard the plastic cock
slip from its precarious position and fall to the carpet below. Her eyes flew
open and an impatient moan escaped from around the bulbous gag sealing her
mouth.
As I slid my thick cock into her tight, wet, waiting box, those eyes closed
completely, and with just one or two strokes of my cock, she was coming, coming,
coming in a flood of juice and emotion. Arms pulled against the restraints,
teeth sunk into the rubber gag as she enjoyed an explosive orgasm.
I held the position inside her and massaged her breasts and traced her large
areolas. When she seemed to catch her breath, I resumed my pistoning in and out
between her legs, slowly ratcheting my speed, slamming in and out, banging her
well and good. She moaned and squealed around the gag, her wrists and ankles
pulling against the restraints, and in time, I thrust as deep as I could, and
blasted my heavy load into her.
It was the start of a memorable holiday weekend.
