I never feel so free as when I’m in restraints.
These aren’t my words, they’re Isla’s. My dominant girlfriend Angela’s slave Isla is the perfect submissive that I could never be.
Isla loves to surrender control, to let Angela push her beyond her boundaries, to take her to places — mentally and physically — that she’s never contemplated.
So, this is Isla’s story. And as I’ve mentioned before, Isla is a very unreliable narrator. I asked Angela if this is really how it happened, but she just smiled and said, “Oh, you know Isla…”
I never feel so free as when I’m in restraints. And I’m very familiar with the sensation of rope and steel against my skin. But this is something new.
The plastic wrap, coiled tightly around my body, feels soft and yielding at first. I look down at my legs, encased — somehow concealed and revealed at once — and I imagine standing in a shop window just like this, my nakedness barely covered. I sense eyes staring at me, attempting to make out the finer details of my body through the hazy transparency. Immediately, my pussy is drenched, and I feel compelled to touch it. But as I pull against the plastic wrap, trying to spread my thighs apart, it seems to grip me tighter.
I want to slide a hand between my legs to rub against the plastic covering my saturated pussy, but I can only manage to get one finger into the tight space. I grind against it frantically, the partial contact just getting me hotter and more frustrated. I can picture the cream trickling out of me and pooling against the folds of plastic, smearing it and making it slippery.
Wildly, I rip away the wrap that binds my legs, spreading them apart and grinding my fist over my crotch. I hump against it, my clit throbbing, the plastic hot on my engorged flesh. The furious frottage is making me shake all over, my nipples so hard I have to rip away the plastic that covers them and let them pulse against my trembling fingers. One hand still pinching my nipples, I slide the other back down over my pussy, this time forcing myself to rub much more slowly, but harder, seeking out every fold of my flesh, the sensation building until I can hardly bear it.
I tear away a piece of the plastic and hold it up to my mouth to lick up my tangy cream, the cool air hitting my overheated pussy like an electric shock. My fingers plunge between my sugar walls, gliding in knuckle deep.
Suddenly I need release of a different kind. There’s a pressure building up that can’t be held back, and I don’t even try. It starts as a hot trickle and soon becomes a flood, pouring out over my fingers, making a puddle on the floor beneath me. It gathers in the torn folds of the wrap, wetting my skin, the acidic smell mingling with the scent of pussy juice.
I rub my soaked cunt harder, wetness still spurting out, splashing my legs. I feel the eyes of my silent watcher burning into me and I feel humiliated, but strangely liberated too. Turning onto my knees I let go another stream, shuddering as it gushes out noisily. I push two sticky fingers deep into my spasming hole, pull them out and spank them against my juiced-up snatch, then shove them deep inside again. That releases a fresh flood, and suddenly I’m cumming around my fingers, all control lost.
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More confessions from me here — if you think you can handle it! Maybe have a cold shower first…