Sounded Good At The Time

I met a plain plump mental-health social-worker, after being divorced for a year or so, and tired of instant negativity from others, to my admission to being a total-enclosure BDSM 'addict' I was pleasantly surprised at our initial meeting at a trendy coffee bar, when her response to my sigh of "I'm into rubber..." drew an amiable 'sounds intriguing" and a genuine-seeming smile, with direct eye-contact.

Turned out she found me attractive, particularly as I rivalled her intellect too, so we dated, and she completed my 'confinement' without protest, and quickly answered her own question of 'what's in it for me?" by making use of two appropriately placed fine nylon zippers in the strong rubber-coated rip-stop mylon bag, with every sign of mild enjoyment.

We married within the year, and after settling into domestic 'bliss(?)' I discovered she was quite happy to cooperate, but...and it's a big 'but' - her idea of quality home-time was me in my bag, beside her on the love-seat, while she read endlessly, as I squirmed and writhed, unable to pleasure myself, due to a powerfully cinched strap round my waist, and another round my neck, trapping my arms in a loose folded position...

My efforts to communicate were ineffective, as with the air-tight nylon zipper closed over my mouth, leaving me only two tiny metal-ringed airholes at my nostrils, providing just enough air for survival, unable to form anything but a muffled "mmmmmmffff" sound, which quickly drew a "be silent!" command, and "or I'll institute that myself, and you won't like i!"

We slept like this too, and she released me in the morning, to shower shave and s... before leaving for work, my last task before exiting the house being to flush out the bag with hot soapy water, turn it inside out, and hang it over the convenient stair hand-rail-bannister.

Of course weekends and holidays were lacking the necessity of being allowed out at all, and I was informed that I over-ate, needed to slim down, and subsequentky fed an occasional energy bar whch would fit in place temporarily, and hydrated with bottled water in a squeezy dispenser, sparingly, since I was forced to 'hold it' way too long, with the amiable comment "if you have to 'go' feel free - so to speak - it won't bother me! Now I have a fascvinating book, so our "be silent" is now in force...if you're really good, I'll make you cum, slowly and endlessly, since you're in good shape physically at least...mentally, well, that's my "thing" as you very well know, and I must confess the effort to prove or disprove the old chestnut about someone being "wanked to death" is growing increasingly attractive to my professionally curious mind, and definitely worthy of ongoing research..."

Years later nothing has changed, she reads a lot, liking her undemanding "company" on the love-seat and in bed, and insisting that her 'research is incomplete. and may have to include a subsection on "sadistic masturbation"...

We had a minor lottery win - she says it was all hers - and I no longer need to go to work - or anywhere, really... even if it were possible, I would never divorce this terrible lady...