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 4 - Home Savvy
Sunday morning
I was surprised when Mindy made her appearance Sunday morning wearing a Green
Bay Packers foot ball jersey.
"You're kidding, right?" I asked.
"No way." She turned around to display the number "4" on her back. "See? Green
Bay's going to win over Chicago today."
Mindy knows little about football. I immediately decided to capitalize on her
delightful ignorance.
"If Green Bay loses to Chicago, I get to tie you up any way I want to."
She grinned at me. "And if you lose...?"
"If Chicago loses, I'll put on a tie and take you out to a fancy dinner. And if
Green Bay loses, I put you in a restrictive tie and we stay in for dinner. How's
that?"
It was a bet.
We settled on our basement futon couch to watch the game, Mindy wearing her
oversized jersey, nylon sweatpants, white anklets and white gym shoes. As the
game came on at noon, and she started listening to the announcers, she
exclaimed, "What do you mean, Favre's not playing?"
"Can't play. Twisted his knee in Atlanta last week. At least two games off."
She turned on me. "You knew this? That's not fair! No bet!"
"Sure it's fair, and you can't cancel the bet. You read the same newspaper I do
every morning. Is it my fault you don't read the sports section?"
Chicago received the kick-off. 9 plays later, Chicago 3, Green Bay 0.
I took a length of white cotton cord and carefully roped Mindy's ankles tightly
together.
"Well this stinks," she said. "If you want another beer, you'll have to get it
yourself."
"Fair enough."
Green Bay ball. 3 plays, and they are forced to punt.
Chicago ball. Our star punt returner slips 2 tackles and rumbles in from 86
yards out. Chicago 10 to Green Bay's 0.
A thick band of white rope around my wife's knees.
As the game progresses, Mindy gets more and more animated, pleading and
developing increasingly complicated wagers. By half time, her wrists are bound
behind her, and lashed to her waist. I drape a length of rope over the back of
her neck, pull up the front of her sweatshirt and tie the wad of material up,
displaying her bare breasts for my continued enjoyment.
"Very nice," she groans at me. "I want to renegotiate my contract."
"Don't blame you," I say. "You got any insight into the Indianapolis Colts vs.
the New York Giants? That's on after this."
"But there's a movie on Lifetime I really wanted to see... How about this? If
Green Bay can score a touchdown in the second half, you let me loose and I watch
the movie."
"If not?"
She sighs. "If not, I put on a saucy outfit, high heels, and you do with me what
you will."
"Two touchdowns," I counter. "You have a good team, they might get one
touchdown. Two TDs will make it more sporting."
"Agreed."
With their first possession, Green Bay does march down the field, burns a lot of
time off the clock, and scores 6 points. Mindy whoops with delight, twisting and
flopping about like a landed flounder.
Then the kicker shanks the extra point. Her endless stream of obscenities and
profanities offends my sensibilities so deeply that there's nothing left to do
but cleave gag her with a long yellow scarf. She takes some consolation in the
fact it accessories with her lifted jersey.
Almost too soon (for me that is) the game comes to an end. I reluctantly untie
her ankles, then her knees. I stop there, and send her to get me a beer from our
refrigeratr upstairs. She glares at me, but obediently mounts the stairs,
fumbles a bit in the kitchen, then returns with the bottle, having to turn
backwards to present it to me. I take the bottle in one hand, then slap her ass
with my other open palm, chastising her for taking too long.
I undo the final knots and remove the gag. She drinks greedily from my open
beer.
"Now, there was something about a slutty outfit?" I say. She blushes prettily.
"May I request some impossibly high heels?"
"You may," she responds coyly, "if I may have a request of my own?" She runs to
the bondage drawer and returns with an object. "Can you use this new red ball
gag? When you use the white one, my mouth is stretched so impossibly wide, my
jaw hurts for a day or more."
"I can go along with that. Now go change, this New York game is starting."
She's upstairs the best part of 20 minutes and I'm wondering what's taking her
when I hear the tentative clop-clop of high heels on the kitchen floor and then
on our stairs. As she comes down the stairs into view, I wolf-whistle
appreciatively. I am a lucky man!
Four-inch spiky black pumps. Nylon encased calves, knees, and thighs, ending in
wide black bands at the top of her thighs. Tight black panties, allowing just a
hint of her ass curves to jut out at the sides. Black push up corset, displaying
full cleavage.
She's wearing a lot of slutty make-up, but perhaps best of all, she's wearing a
longer wig. Mindy has a short pixish haircut, which looks great on her. But at
times I wish she had long luxiousious hair. And now she does. It's a long brown
wig, with the strands of hair just brushing her shoulders. In fact, in a certain
light and angle, with the make-up and long hair, she looks a lot like a certain
savvy host of a home improvement show. No flannel shirts for my babe, though.
As the first quarter elapses, I tie my bride's wrists behind her, around the
pole in our basement. Then I bind her elbows almost together around the same
pole. I tie the ankles, then the thighs, finishing each tie around the pole. She
has a bit of room to strain, paw the carpet with her high heels, and shift in
her bonds, but she's not going anywhere.
I stroke her face, the long hair against my fingers and her cheek as I kiss her
passionately. Then it's gag time. She accommodates me by squealing
unintelligibly as I buckle it in place.
With more rope, I bind her upper chest, and rib cage to the pole, neatly framing
her heavy breasts. Then I step back to admire my work. She tries to smile around
the heavy ball in her mouth, her eyes dance and flirt with me as she twists in
her bondage, showing off all her assets as she ties pointlessly to escape.
So I settle on the couch, my thick dick pulsing, one hand around a beer bottle,
the other holding the remote, watching my ball game, and looking over very often
at my horny beautiful captive, roped to the pole, straining for release.
