Latex at Bedtime

“I have something for you,” he smiles.

“Sir?”

Lance turns Felicia to face away from him and runs his hands up and down the slick blue latex covering her arms. She leans her head to the left for him as he kisses the right side of her neck, just at the top of her collar and behind her ear. Her eyes close as she enjoys his touch, but open again as she hears the familiar sound of his handcuffs. He locks her hands behind her in them and then leads her to the bedroom.

Lance and Felicia have been dating for a little while now, having started as pen pals and now actually seeing each other. They both share a love of latex and physical restraint. And she desires to submit to his domination as much as he enjoys commanding her. But they’ve not yet gotten sexual with each other, each agreeing to take the relationship slowly. Still, they are often aroused by their play with each other and it’s becoming more difficult to remain celibate, especially with all the teasing and flirting between them both. This will not be his first time in her bedroom, but she wonders if he’ll start to take them into that arena that they’ve been thus far avoiding. If so, a part of her is already excited by the possibility, but another part of her is worried that he’ll break her trust if he plans to push beyond this hitherto agreed upon limit.

As he leads her over toward the bed, he watches her reaction. He smiles to see her eyes open wide as they take in the gleam of the polished black material. There, laying out on the bed before her is a brand new latex garment. At first glance it looks like a floor-length dress, its lower half in the form of a narrow hobble skirt. It’s a long garment, the length of her entire body, save her head, but she doesn’t see its arms. Is it sleeveless? A long zipper runs down the entire length of the garment, from the neck down to the… Oh my! …down to the toe of the single leg! And there are no arm holes at the shoulders.

As Lance unzips it, he takes note of Felicia’s quickening of breath and rising pulse, for it’s quite evident that this particular garment is meant to restrain and immobilize. Lance opens the unzipped latex, revealing some details of the interior. For one thing, the inside is just as shiny as the outside, and there seem to be two inner sleeves, one running down each side and open only at the top about four inches beneath the shoulder.

“I can see you’re eager to try this out,” he smiles. “You’d best be naked for it. Oh, I see your hands are cuffed. That’s okay, I can help you undress.”

With wide eyes, Felicia looks at Lance. She looks as though she’s about to take a step backward. Lance had never seen her nude, nor done anything sexual with her.

His soft voice allays her fears to some degree. “It’s alright, Felicia. I’m not about to push any boundaries here. This is just restraint. That’s all.”

“Yes, Sir,” she answers, though her voice flutters a little.

Lance smiles warmly, noticing that she stays where she is as he steps up to her. Lifting her collar higher on her throat, he tugs a bit with one hand at the top edge of her catsuit’s high neckline as his other hand grasps the zipper and slowly pulls down. He deliberately takes his time, allowing her to feel the cool air where the latex parts, revealing the pale flesh between her breasts, then her belly, moist with perspiration, and finally the lowest part of her abdomen. He crouches down to pull the zipper back through her crotch, proud that she shuffles a little to widen her legs and allow it. He is greatly pleased with her trust of him.

Standing again, he peels the shiny blue latex back, baring her shoulders, and the feel of the cool air tells her that her breasts are now totally exposed to him. But he doesn’t look at her nipples as they begin to harden and stand out from the pert mounds. He continues to peel the tight latex off her shoulders and down her arms. The material squeaks as it stretches off her body and bunches up on her arms where the handcuffs hold them behind her. Sweat glistens off the interior of the catsuit as well as the surface of her skin.

With a finger hooked into the ring at the front of her collar, Lance leads Felicia over to a simple wooden chair. Before allowing her to sit, he positions her in a crouch, then pulls the catsuit down off her hips. Backing her into the chair so she sits on its edge, he lifts one leg and inches the latex down, finally pulling at the toe. With effort, her leg pulls free of the garment, accompanied by a great sucking sound. He repeats the process with her other leg and looks at how wet she is from the pooling of her sweat inside the waterproof leggings. The catsuit is now hanging behind her where the handcuffs have prevented it from being removed from her arms.

“Don’t worry about all this,” he says, motioning to her glistening skin. “You’ll get showered later.”

“Yes, Sir,” she answers dutifully.

He continues, “Right now I’m sure you’re anxious to try on your new outfit.”

“Yes, Sir,” she smiles. “I am.”

Lance picks up the shiny new black garment and brings it to the floor in front of Felicia’s chair. His hand gentle upon her calf, he guides her as she steps into it, one foot and then the other into the single container for both feet. Little groin muscles pull delightfully at her insides as she sees a heavy metal ring attached at the toe of the garment. Happily, albeit nervously, she anticipates complete helplessness at Lance’s hands.

With her feet fitting snug into the single sole of this odd garment, he begins to pull on the zipper. The latex is obviously thick and heavy, stretching very taut around her feet as he pulls the zipper up to her ankles. A small surprise is the discovery that the interior of this garment is lubricated, allowing it to slip easily over her moist skin. Such lubrication is necessary as its elasticity is so powerful, squeezing her feet much more tightly together than she expected. He rolls the leg part of the heavy latex up her shapely limbs and pulls the zipper higher, watching her eyes as the material stretches tightly around her calves to where the zipper closes. As he pulls the closure up past her knees, her eyes register that its tightness has her a little concerned, but not quite worried.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir,” she answers, and he can see by her expression that she isn’t just saying so to please him, but that she is indeed curious to see what it will be like as he finishes sealing her into this new restraint.

The aroma of fresh new latex is powerful as the garment is pulled up her legs and zipped up toward the middle of her thighs. By now the tightness of the latex stretched around her legs feels very imprisoning, and she tugs absent-mindedly at the handcuffs trapping her wrists behind her. The scent of the latex, the gleaming black surface, the restrictive crush and the firm touch of Lance’s gentle yet controlling hands upon her helpless form all combine to seduce from her body a powerfully building arousal. She blushes as she realizes her hips are starting to squirm while sitting on the edge of her chair. She thrills as his hands reach to gently grasp her bare ribs and he lifts a little, coaxing her to stand.

Lance produces a leather strap and wraps it around her body above her breasts, pinning her upper arms to her sides. He tugs her blue catsuit further down her arms, then applies another strap, encircling her body just below her breasts. Now her arms are pinned nicely in place. From his pants pocket, Lance produces the handcuff key and in seconds the cuffs are removed and the blue catsuit removed from Felicia’s arms.

“Hold your hands like this,” Lance tells her, demonstrating for her. He holds his hand with the extended fingers together, the thumb against the side of the hand.

Stepping behind her, he sees her obediently holding her hands as he had instructed. Carefully, he fits the right inner sleeve up over the extended fingers of her right hand, pulling so the whole hand slips easily into it. The left hand is then slipped into the other inner sleeve. Lance works the latex up over her arms and body, the inner sleeves fitting just a little tightly as he pulls. He unbuckles the lower belt and slips it off her body, then quickly pulls the garment higher. The inner sleeves are fitting more tightly around her hands as they seem to be a little smaller down toward where they’ll be holding her wrists.

He removes the other belt and then tells her, “Push your hands down.” As she obeys him he suddenly pulls the garment upward, hard, actually lifting her off her feet for a moment. Her hands pop into the close-fitting pouches at the bottoms of the inner sleeves, the tops of the sleeves can be felt almost into her armpits and the heavy black latex wraps around her shoulders. Quickly Lance pulls on the zipper.

As the zipper rises, the thick latex stretches and the inner sleeves, her hands within, are pulled around to rest at her sides, the heavy outer layer pressing hard, pinning her arms in place. Lance looks at Felicia’s nipples, noting their rock-hard erect condition. For a moment he considers kissing them, allowing his lips and tongue to tease them to greater arousal, but he denies himself the pleasure, having already given his word that this would only be a session of restraint. He sees her breasts rising and falling quickly as she breathes hard. A little spot at the base of her neck throbs, evidence of a artery beneath the skin pulsing with the hard and rapid beating of her heart. He looks into her eyes, but sees no signs of panic or fear.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks again to be certain.

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice is somewhat husky with desire.

He smiles reassuringly and watches her eyes as he pulls the zipper the rest of the way up to her neck. Now even her shoulders feel the pressure of the tightly squeezing restraint, although not as much as upon her legs. The zipper had pulled more easily up her chest, its fit not so tight there so as to ensure easy breathing. Pushing her collar a bit higher on her throat, he clears the way for the little metal loops that the tab of the zipper fits nicely between. A small padlock will fit there and he shows it to her, watching her quell a small gasp before snapping it in place. With the quiet sound of the little lock clicking home, the level of excitement registers in Felicia’s eyes, and, at seeing this, Lance smiles with satisfaction.

Nestling the leather collar back into place, its edge hiding the top of the zipper but not the body of the padlock, Lance wraps his arms around her enclosed body and hugs her for a long moment. She lays her head upon his shoulder, unable to hug him back in any other manner. “You like this, don’t you, pet?”

“Yes, Sir. It feels like you’re still hugging me.”

His broad smile stretches clear across his face as his eyes warmly regard her. Then he scoops up his charge and carries her over to the bed. As her body bends in his arms, the tight latex stretches and shifts, but continues to grip her tightly, sealing all but her head within the relentless pressure of its unavoidable grasp.

Lance lays her down on the bed, then stands back to admire the outcome of his binding.

The young and pretty Felicia lays motionless for a moment, staring up at the mirror on the ceiling, drinking in the vision of herself so tightly mummified in gleaming black. Then she starts to move a little, watching how the latex reins in her squirming while feeling its restriction. Within a minute her little squirmings have grown into hard strainings, pulling at the synthetic skin, feeling how strongly it resists her efforts to defeat it. Her elbows bend along with her waist as she tries to curl into a ball, but the powerful pull of the latex makes her tire quickly of this and it pulls her straight again. No matter how hard she tries to pull her hands forward or push them back, the garment’s inner sleeves hold them directly at her sides. Even her fingers remain straight and together, her thumbs unable to do anything but wiggle a little. Permitting herself a flight of fancy, she imagines having a vibrator strapped into place while being unable to shut it off or touch it at all. And what if she were wearing nipple clamps? A new sweat breaks out all over her body and she realizes she’ll be swimming in her own perspiration before very long as it pools within the airtight suit.

Having enjoyed watching her for a little while, Lance steps to the head of the bed, holding one of the leather straps. He notices Felicia twisting her head to watch what he’s doing, then she switches to watch from the vantage of the overhead mirror. He threads the leather strap through a metal ring attached at the top of her shoulder, then loops the belt through a post in the brass headboard, buckling it in place. Walking around to the other side, he uses the other leather strap to anchor the metal ring on her other shoulder the same way.

“Are you enjoying this?” he asks her, smiling with his own gratification.

“Yes, Sir,” she answers, her words genuine and laced with desire.

“Then you’ll like this.” Standing at the foot of the bed, he produces a stout, black rubber cord with a metal spring clip at each end. Looping the cord around two posts in the brass footboard, he attaches the metal clips to the heavy metal ring at the toe of Felicia’s encasement. “There. Now you’ll be able to pull on that, but it will always pull you back. And since you’re obviously going nowhere, I’ll take this moment to throw your catsuit in the tub and rinse it out.”

She lifts her head to watch him pick up the heap of blue latex, sleeves and legs dangling as he carries it to the bathroom and disappears through the doorway. Laying her head back down, she looks at her reflection staring back from the ceiling. As she hears water running from beyond the bathroom door, she starts to squirm again, pulling on the rubber cord as she flexes her legs. It pulls back, preventing her from curling up very far, but the interior of her amazing encasement doesn’t pull much away from her toes as it seems to grip behind her heels. Her stomach muscles tire quickly from the pull of the suit itself combined with the rubber rope and she allows herself to be pulled straight. Resting for a moment, she squirms a little, unable to get any friction in her groin to satisfy her raging arousal. She catches herself moaning out loud and quickly listens to know that the water is still running in the bathroom. She can tell that he’s washing out the blue catsuit, and she’s thankful for his attention to its maintenance.

After watching herself squirm for a little while longer, she hears the water stop. Lifting her head, she watches him enter the bedroom, drying his hands with a towel. His expression is all business as he turns toward her and dumps the towel on the bed near her feet. Leaning down, his hand softly strokes her cheek and he smiles at the way she leans into his touch. “So, you like your new sleeper?”

“Sleeper? Oh my. Um, Sir, even though it’s really wonderful, I don’t know if I could actually spend a whole night in this thing.”

His hand strokes the slick, black sheath that tightly hugs her. “Well, you’re about to find out.” He chuckles a little as he picks up the towel and steps away.

“Now?”

His eyebrows raised, he turns to her again and drops the towel onto the bed again. Opening the nightstand drawer, he pulls out a well-used wiffle ball gag, then turns back to her again. “Yes, now. When did you think I meant?”

“But, Sir, I haven’t gone to the bathroom yet.”

“Oh, that’s okay. The sleeper won’t leak. The bed is safe.”

Her eyes are wide as he bends to apply the gag. “But…”

“No buts. Open for me.”

Even as her widened eyes plead with him, her mouth obediently opens to receive the perforated white plastic ball. The ball easily fits into her mouth and he pulls the strap behind her neck and up the other side to where the buckle lies just a couple inches from the ball, so positioned to make buckling easier. With the gag buckled tightly into place, she’ll surely not be registering any complaints or supplications, at least not with any intelligent words.

“Would you like a pillow?”

She nods, her eyes still imploring his mercy.

He pulls a pillow from the head of the bed and, as she lifts her head for him, he tucks the fluffy cushion beneath her. Leaning down, he kisses her forehead tenderly. Then, smiling softly, he turns, picks up the towel again, hangs it on the rack in the bathroom, walks to her bedroom door and shuts out the lights. “One last thing,” he adds. “If you can get out of that, you may use the bathroom. Otherwise, pleasant dreams.” He smiles at her in the dark, turns and closes her door behind him.

It’s only about 9:30 in the evening, hours before she normally goes to bed. She squirms in aroused frustration, trying hard to make her hands reach her needy crotch, but utterly unable to. Momentarily forgetting about the little padlock holding the zipper at her throat, she thrashes about, trying to break free, to somehow defeat this restraint, but all she manages to do is prove the effectiveness of the sleeper, perspire more heavily and tease her arousal to a deeper craving, an absolute need for sexual release.

Also increasing is her need to relieve her bladder. She knows she’ll eventually have to let it go before the night is done, but she’ll hold out as long as she can, perhaps until some point in the wee hours of the morning. With any luck, at that point she’ll be so tired that she’ll just fall back to sleep again after wetting herself. But sleep is far away at the moment. In fact it won’t be until nearly two o’clock in the morning that she’ll finally, mercifully drift off to slumber, her loins still aching for an unobtainable orgasm.

Being such a lover of latex and a lover of effective bondage, and being so trapped in her favorite slick material has her feeling about as horny as she’s ever been. Being unable to do anything to simply reach her burning loins only increases her feeling of helplessness. It’s a vicious circle of growing arousal and it’s keeping her struggling against the tight sleeper to touch herself, thus making her feel more trapped and further aroused.

Moments pass slowly, but eventually. Soon hours have passed. Glancing at the glowing red digital readout of her alarm clock, she sees that it’s 11:17. She rolls her eyes at the idea that she’s become putty, so easily molded into a steaming cauldron of lust, hopelessly unable to reach the orgasm she so desperately needs. For the umpteenth time, she strains against the tight container, trying to twist within its confines, hoping to make a hand reach her groin. But once again she fails, her body forced to give up the hard fight and allow the sleeper to pull her straight again, lying flat on her back. She’s thankful that she’s bound on the bed. He could just as easily left her lying on the hard floor.

What? Was that the sound of her doorknob?

Lifting her head, she peers into the darkness, hoping to see her door, but is met with only blackness. Then, a crack of light appears and, indeed, her door is opening. She sees his silhouette as he reaches for the light switch. Suddenly she has to close her eyes tightly against the blinding glare of her overhead lamp.

“Master’s prerogative,” he says. “I’ve decided not to make you spend the whole night like this. Sorry to disappoint you, sweetie.”

As she slowly lessens her squint, letting her eyes adjust to the light, she feels him releasing the anchoring straps to her sleeper. Then she feels him scoop her up into his arms. A new and brighter glare tells her he’s carried her into the bathroom. Then she realizes he is setting her down into the bathtub. Just as she’s able to see through tightly squinting eyes, she sees his hand on the shower knob. Again her eyes close tightly as cold water rains down upon her. She thrashes against her elastic cocoon, squealing through the perforated ball gag, spittle flying from the little holes.

After a few moments, the water warms up and she relaxes and looks at him. He has taken off his shirt and is leaning over her with a set of keys in his hand. Off comes the collar, then the little padlock is removed from the top of the sleeper. As he pulls the zipper down, her sweaty skin is cooled by the air and just as suddenly warmed by the shower.

The tight sleeper loosening as the zipper slides down, she is soon finding her legs coming apart. He helps her pull her arms from the inner sleeves by tugging the garment down her naked body. Finally free, she now constrains herself with willpower. She wants so much to touch herself and finally enjoy an orgasm, but won’t in front of him. She finds she wants to even more as he uses the soap and lathers up her body.

As she reaches for the buckle of the gag, her eyes meet his and she sees his stern look and a wag of his finger tells her to leave the gag alone.

“Do I have to handcuff you?” he asks softly.

Her eyes dart downward for a moment, then look back at him as she holds out her hands, offering him the undersides of her wrists.

Attn: Readers please feel free to send me an e-mail with what you think of this story.
I can be reached at KrisPlayer@Hotmail.com and I’d love to hear from you!

Latex at Bedtime by Kris Player ©2002 Kris Player

Archiving and/or reposting is permitted; but only with the inclusion of this statement of limitation of use. The distribution, or sale of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is forbidden. However, individual readers may make single copies of this story for their own, non-commercial use. Otherwise, without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this work.

14.06.12