All the Bells and Whistles Pt. 07

Chapter 19 – Begging

I don’t know how long I stayed like that. I eventually heard another round of loud hollering and cheering, and a short while later I heard the door open. While I startled a bit when I heard the latch turn, I didn’t panic as I had earlier. Instead I just waited with a surprisingly calm feeling of resignation. Whoever it was coming through that door, I was essentially theirs, as long as they gave me what I needed.

I sensed my husband as he knelt behind me once again, but the first physical contact I felt was his thumb on the base of the plug, pushing on it despite it being fully inserted. I gasped again, and then I bit my bottom lip.

He let his fingers curl around my sex as he kept the pressure on the plug, and I could feel his body lean over mine, as he whispered to me.

“You seem awfully calm… and wet.”

I nodded, and I continued to bite my lower lip. There was nothing to say.

“Well you might be pleased to know that two more players are down. One hand, two more losers.”

I did the math in my head. Five down, two to go.

“Does that make you happy, honey?” he asked me.

I ignored the question. I didn’t want to talk. There was only one thing I wanted.

He pulled his hand away from my pussy and the plug, and then, before I could have even dreamt about it, he slid my panties aside and plunged two fingers inside me. God knows I was wet enough.

The fingers caught me by surprise, and I was moaning instantly. It wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t quiet either. Then the bells came to life as I tried to rock my pelvis back onto his fingers. I couldn’t go far though — my wrists were pulled so far up the frame that I couldn’t only manage to wiggle my hips in the direction of his fingers.

His thumb applied pressure to my clit while his fingers worked inside of me. I could feel them curl as he searched inside me for that spot. His thumb began to work circles around my clit and I squealed. He wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t gentle either. He was applying just enough pressure.

I pulled against the cuffs, stretching my body away from him and holding my face down. I wanted to rip my arms free so I could touch myself. With his fingers and my fingers and that beautiful little toy buried between my cheeks, I could certainly come.

I squealed as he drove his fingers deeper inside of me. I could feel the knuckles of his hand pressed between my legs. His thumb continued to grind my clit in circles. I needed my hands free to get off.

“Please!” I begged. He knew what I was asking for. He could see my wrists straining against the cuffs, but he pressed on, ignoring my plea.

“Please, I want to come! Please!”

Not a word came from him. Instead I felt the plug pressed into me again, and I groaned.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, PLEASE!” I was getting desperate. He and I both knew that if I didn’t get what I needed soon, the window would pass. I would become overwhelmed by the stimulation, and I wouldn’t be able to come. It was such a delicate balance, and it was starting to get away from me.

“Please, fuck, PLEASE, I need to come. Just let my hands go!”

I was pulling at the cuffs constantly, but then I started to thrash with my arms, which caused the locks holding the cuffs to rattle noisily. Yet I still couldn’t move much, so the bells were sitting relatively quietly on my ass.

“Shhhhhhhh,” I heard him say. “You don’t want us to be found like this, do you?”

At this point I couldn’t give a shit who found us like this, I just needed to come.

I could barely speak though; my senses were being overrun. I managed to half-whisper, half-squeal a pleading response: “I don’t care, I really don’t, just please let me come.”

But he didn’t let me come. Instead his fingers slowed, and his thumb eased off of my clit, and the force on the plug dissipated.

I slumped dejectedly as he finally withdrew his fingers altogether. I was panting.

I could feel him stand up and move away from me, and then he quickly returned. This time, though, he came around and knelt in front of me, just out of reach of my cuffed hands.

I was resting my head on the frame, my face turned to one side. I was recovering from the sensory overload once again and starting to feel like the torture would never end.

He had the mitten on my left hand before I even realized that he was up to something. He had already slipped the other mitten over my right hand when I looked up to see what it was. These were new.

“Whaaa- what are those?” I sounded groggy, like I had just woken up.

“Fiendish little accessories that you will love, no doubt,” he replied quietly.

He finished buckling the mitten on my right hand; I couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed as if it was connected to the cuff I had been wearing most of the night.

Both of my hands were now encased in tight, somewhat stretchy mittens. They weren’t actually big enough for my hands it seemed, so they had the effect of forcing each of my Kartal Ukraynalı Escort hands into a fist. If I made an extraordinary effort I could straighten my fingers slightly and just for a moment, before my fingers would collapse back into a ball. What the hell were these for?

When the mittens were secure, he unlocked the wrist cuffs from the cross bar. Then he removed the bar from behind my knees, and finally he unlocked my ankle cuffs from the cross bar at the opposite end. I was free from the frame that had held me on less than all fours for the last while. I was not, however, free of the jeweled toy that he had planted between my cheeks.

I sat up into a kneeling position first, reveling in the change of position and letting my back relax for the first time since I had been stretched out on the frame.

A wisp of hair had broken free from my ponytail and the maid’s headband I still wore, and it swung down to tickle my nose and eyelash. I instinctively reached up to brush it back and tuck it away, and that’s when the reality of the mittens hit me.

I had zero dexterity.

I couldn’t grab anything with these on. I looked like a boxer with tiny gloves, or a kitten with silky black paws.

My husband saw me working at the lock of hair and he came over to my side to help. He pulled it out of my face and tucked it away under the headband, and then smiled at me and kissed me on the forehead.

He extended his hand to me and I offered my balled fist in return. He took me by the wrist instead and helped me to my feet, as the bells woke up and chimed their “hello.”

Standing free from the frame I was able to pull my feet back to a more natural position, and in doing so I felt the plug settle in between my cheeks, which were now much more relaxed than they’d been when I was bent over.

The panties were not so settled though. All the fidgeting and playing and manipulation that had taken place had left them askew. I had a partial wedgie and a generally uncomfortable distribution of material between my legs now, and instinctively I reached down with both hands to straighten the edges.

My fists were useless. All I could do was paw at my crotch and my bum like an idiot. I looked up at my husband in dismay, only to see him smiling with glee.

“Do you like them?” he asked, still grinning like a Cheshire.

I ignored the question — I was ignoring a lot of them it seemed — and instead glared at him with enough hostility to cause him to take a step back. But he still giggled.

“Well? C’mon, you have to admit they’re cool!”

“If they’re so cool, why don’t YOU wear them, and go back to your poker game with them on?” It seemed like a really good question to me.

He only smiled and said: “uh-uh, they’re for you. I bought them just for you. Besides, they wouldn’t fit these meat hooks!” He held up his rather large hands for effect.

“Well I guess it’s safe to assume I’m not going to be asked to dust or clean anymore?” My tone made it clear that I was not impressed.

“Your remaining assignments will account for your limited dexterity, yes.”

I didn’t take any consolation from that statement.

“Remaining tasks?!? You mean there are more?” I asked. How much more could he possibly have in mind?

“Don’t worry beautiful, based on the way things are going it’s looking like you’ll only have one more round before the game is over. Doesn’t that make you a little sad?” He frowned dramatically to mock me.

“It breaks my fucking heart.” My tone was acid in return.

The wedgie wasn’t going away, despite the charming conversation, so I awkwardly made another attempt to rearrange the fabric between my legs.

“Would you like a hand with that? I don’t mind, you know.”

He acted as if he was a man offering to help a woman with her groceries. His demeanor was intentional — he was trying to make it sound like the situation I found myself in was no more unusual than a trip to the market.

Like I was buying that.

I rolled my eyes and dropped my mittened hands to my sides in exasperation.

“Fine. Just fix it.”

He knelt in front of me and adjusted the fabric at the front of my panties, smoothing away the wrinkles. Then he motioned for me to turn around, to which I obliged.

I felt his hand slap the inside of my thigh once, then twice, then a third time.

“What the fuck? What are you doing?” I looked over my shoulder as much as my collar would allow, and asked incredulously.

“Just open up a bit, I can’t do it if you don’t spread your legs a bit.”

I let out an exasperated sigh, but I complied. I widened my stance for him.

I was rewarded with a push at the small of my back. And then another, more insistent this time.

“NOW WHAT?” I demanded.

“You have to lean forward a bit,” he said.

“The hell I do! ‘Cause that’s what you see women do when they have to adjust their panties, they spread their legs and bend over!” He was being Kartal Üniversiteli Escort a prick, and I wasn’t having it; not now, not after all this.

“Fine, you do it your way then. I don’t care.”

There was a silent pause, a standoff of sorts. Finally, I let out an exasperated groan and snapped at him “just fucking do it already,” and then I bent at the waist.

I could practically hear him smiling behind me as I bent over.

His fingers, with all their wonderful dexterity, went to work adjusting and pulling and repositioning my panties. I felt the pressure come off the plug slightly as he pulled the fabric away from my bum to adjust it, but it returned even more noticeably when he finally settled them into place. Aside from the toy still buried between my cheeks, it felt like he had put things back to “normal.”

“Isn’t it time you left?” I was tired of him toying with me.

“Why thank you dear! I enjoyed your company too! So nice to spend time with you!” He was mocking me again.

He held up a small white envelope for me to see and he said: “last one.”

Then he dropped it on the floor and grinned before walking out of the room.

I didn’t watch him go. I just stood by the bed with my back to the door in the dim light and I waited for him to close the door. I didn’t want him to see me fighting off the grin that was forming at the corners of my mouth…

Chapter 20 — Paws for Effect

As drained as I was from riding the rollercoaster for as long as I had up to this point, I felt a surge of energy before he had even closed the door. The end was in sight, and I had a string of little victories that was starting to pile up. Those victories had cost me dearly, but if I could hold on just a little while longer the satisfaction would be worth it.

These games we play are always a bit of a paradox; If I lose, he loses too in all reality. It means that he pushed me past my breaking point in some way, or he had failed to guess my mood or motivation or willingness. If I lose it means I gave up, and that doesn’t translate into more fun and games for him.

However, if I win, he wins too. Sure, he might have to deal with my sass and gloating and generally cocky and obnoxious attitude, but it also means that he got everything he wanted, more or less. That’s why he never gets frustrated in these games — certainly not like I do anyways. If I’m slipping in the wrong direction emotionally, he can’t afford to let me go down that path, so he has to cheer me up, even if he is the source of the problem. Likewise, If I’m cruising through his game with a cheery attitude and bratty demeanor despite everything he throws at me, it won’t serve him to start pouting. It’s actually a pretty good dynamic. But I digress…

The envelope was staring up at me from the edge of the fur rug. I was determined to make it to the end of his game, desperate to show him that I could take everything he could throw at me without flinching. I wanted to finish as the bratty girl, not the moody partner. That envelope represented the last obstacle between me and my goal. So, I dutifully bent at the waist to pick it up; the corset wouldn’t allow me to bend any other way.

As I reached for the envelope with one hand, as any normal person would do, the stark reality of my new gloves set in. With my fingers balled up inside them, there was no hope of picking up the envelope; at least, not with one hand.

I brought my other useless hand to the party, and I proceeded to fumble the envelope around the rug, without managing to pinch it between my mittens. Eventually I succeeded in pushing the envelope off the plush rug and onto the smooth wood floor, where it lay flat as a pancake.

I dropped to my knees in frustration, my hands on my thighs.

Fuck. I could see where this was going.

I leaned forward onto my hands and knees — voluntarily, for the first time this evening — and crawled forward to the edge of the rug where the note had slipped to the floor. Lowering my head, I placed my puckered lips on the envelope and sucked a long breath in, lifting the note off the floor. From there I was able to finally trap it between my fists, and clumsily hold onto it as I sat back on my haunches, a few rogue bells jingling in protest as their mates were crushed between my bum and my heels.

I had the note in my hands, but it was still inside the envelope and the restrictive mittens meant I wasn’t going to open it in any conventional way. I held the little envelope up to my mouth and began to work at the problem with my teeth.

I probably looked like a squirrel working at a nut, which is probably not far from reality. The “nut” in this case was the note inside, and I wasn’t going anywhere — literally — without it.

I finally succeeded in liberating the note from the envelope, but I certainly couldn’t read it holding it in my teeth, so I dropped it back to the rug and managed to pry it open with my paws. Incredibly, I have to admit that I was Kartal Vip Escort actually a little curious to learn what the final task would be. I bent forward to find out how the final chapter of my ridiculous adventure would play out:

Mademoiselle,

You have done well so far. There is still work to be done, however. The office at the top of the stairs is a frightful mess. It’s as if the Lady of the House had no care for modesty or tidiness. You are instructed to straighten the room and return everything that does not belong in the office to its rightful home.

When you’re done you should return to the Master Suite and stay out of sight of the guests. The Master of the House will leave further instructions for you then.

I suggest you hurry; the door to the office is open and we would hate for the Lady to be embarrassed by the guests seeing her house in such a state. We both know that would not go well for you!

Bon chance!

I sighed yet again.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that I would have to venture out once more. After the way the game had played out so far, I shouldn’t have expected anything less.

I faced the door and worked up the nerve to open it once again. I really hoped this would be the last time tonight I would have to step beyond it. It took both “paws” to turn the knob, but I finally managed. The door swung open to reveal the dark hallway once again, and the sounds from below carried up the stairs even louder.

With so many of the players eliminated it sounded more like a party than a serious game of cards, and it was getting louder. Music was playing now and the pattern of the conversations that had existed earlier, built around the betting and the deal of the cards, was obliterated by the losers who no longer bothered to pay attention to every detail of the game. I wasn’t sure if that would bode well for me or not.

My fists went to my cheeks, to stifle the bells once again. The jewel he had left me with was seated firmly in place; I was reminded of it with every step. Thank God no one would see my bum like this — no doubt there was a telltale silhouette of the plug showing for anyone who was able to see.

The office was the first room at the top of the stairs, and the door was wide open as the note had warned. I stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind me before anyone could appear at the bottom of the stairs. My balled fists were useless on the round knob though, and before I could stop it the door had swung shut with a mild bang. I didn’t worry, though, the party below had risen to such a level that there was no way they’d notice.

A solitary reading light left on in the far corner cast a shadowy glow over the room, and I was thankful that he hadn’t left all the lights on. Somehow the low lighting gave me the sense that I could more easily remain unnoticed.

I surveyed the situation before me and immediately flushed with anger. The bastard had outdone himself this time…

Scattered and strewn about the floor and the furniture was the entire contents of one of the large closet organizer baskets from our room. The basket was sitting at the floor near my feet, upside down and obviously empty.

That basket had held half the embarrassing items we own: bits of lingerie, bondage gear, gags, a riding crop, lengths of heavy satin ribbon and coils of rope, rolls of tape, toys for pleasure, instruments of torture, the list was as comprehensive as it was debauched. And it was scattered all over the room for anyone to see. How long had it been here!?!

I kicked the basket over with my foot, so it was in a position to be filled up again. The closest item to me was a tangle of skinny red ribbons that he’d used to decorate me with from time to time. I crouched down as low as I could go and reached for the ribbons, once again with only one hand.

Seeing my error, I rolled my eyes and cursed under my breath while I made the same effort again, but this time with both hands. I managed to fumble my hands back and forth over the ribbons, but the mittens were too slippery to be even a little helpful, and I soon realized I was getting nowhere, even with two hands.

I shook my head and cursed my husband out loud: “What an asshole!”

My knees slid forward as I dropped out of the relatively respectable crouch I had been in until I was back on all fours yet again.

It was only now that the significance of the mittens had become clear to me; he was going to have me tidy this room on my hands and knees, and he wasn’t even going to have to tell me to. Without bondage or a threat, without coercion or even a promise, he was going to make me crawl.

Not only that, but I was going to have to pick up most of these items with my teeth.

Evil. Bastard. Asshole.

Chapter 21 — That Awkward Moment

I lowered my mouth to the tangle of little red ribbons, picked them up in my teeth and swung my head to the basket and dropped them in. Then I used one of my paws to push the basket forward so that I wouldn’t have to crawl back to it with each item.

After a couple of minutes of stealthy crawling I had managed to load the basket with the ribbons, a little black pouch containing BenWa balls, an absurd excuse for a schoolgirl’s skirt, one pair of lacy white panties and a roll of red tape.