Hand me that tape…

It’s always the same, always looking for the tape, the ribbon, the scissors. It seems like no matter where you put them, she has moved them just a bit out of reach. It’s almost a game to re-find them between packages.

We’re wrapping and sipping and enjoying the fire and this strangely relaxed evening of package prep, getting ready for the holidays and family and all that.

I *hate* wrapping. I’m not good at it, and she’s always responsible for making the packages look passable once they’re beyond “but they have paper on them now anyway” stage. Ribbons? Bows? Frilly decoration-thingies? Forget it.

But, of course, you DO know how to incentivize. “For every package you wrap, we’ll play strip-wrapping – I’ll remove one piece of clothing of my choice.” This. This has me fully engaged in this process, I must admit.

gift box with spool of thread and ruler
Photo by Any Lane on Pexels.com

You’ve been a bit of a pain, unsurprisingly. You’ve been very picky about my part of the project. If I had any errors or they just weren’t up to snuff, well, I got to re-do.

And, of course, you’ve done the whole strip-poker thing. Socks. Whoever invented socks at a time like this deserves to be shot. But, of course, the socks were the first thing off… individually. Grrrr…

I’m madly wrapping. Trying to get to much more fun clothing bits. Finally, you were about out. Bracelets. Necklaces, Rings. All shed.

You’re sitting there, distracting me, looking hot as hell. “Seems to me you’re kind of out of things to take off,” I say smugly. I’m hoping you’ll have other ideas for the remaining packages.

“Yes, yes I am. I guess you’ll have to start with your own clothing now…” you tell me, grinning. I’m all about this, but again, you’re picky!

We get all finished and are enjoying the fire, the buzz from some wine and just goofing with each other and the silly game. You lean into me and whisper softly “Sure seems like you were short a few pieces of clothing – you didn’t have anything else to take off. I’ll have to make it up to you…” you tell me.

I grin and wag my eyes at you and my imagination runs crazy.

“But, of course, there’s a gotcha. Of course,” you tell me.

“Lay back, I’m going to make this all worth your time, worth your while, if you can do your part…”

I lay back, cautiously. Wondering what you have in mind, cautiously optimistic about play time now that we’ve had the “job” time.

“You have to put your arms over your head please. Seems like it’s been awhile for any kind of tied-up play, so I thought we’d indulge…” Now I’m full-on smiling. Yes! In the back of my brain, a tiny little voice is muttering warnings…

“You have to keep your arms there, and,” she says, grabbing the cellophane tape, “you have to keep your wrists together and not break the tape.” She wraps a single layer of tape around my wrists.

I’m fucked. There’s no way I win this game.

She grins, running her nails up and down my chest, softly at first, then not so softly. It fires all of the right nerves, feels amazing. I close my eyes to focus on her touch.

I hear the jangle of a chain and start to open my eyes and she stops me “no, keep your eyes closed…” she says.

Then I feel them. The clamps. They close around first my right, then my left nipple. The pain is intense, screaming that initial edgy-sharp pain. I feel it run up and down my body as it slowly settles to a dull roar. Then she grabs the chain and slowly pulls down, increasing the pressure on the clamps.

It’s all I can do to hold still. She kisses my chest, then backs off, running her nails up and down me again for what seems like ages. I can feel my skin heating up, reddening, feeling the tiny cuts of her nails.

Then nothing for moment, then the chain again. No problem I got this. I’ve acclimated to the clamps now. I got this. Really.

Then, in a flash, the clamps are released and my chest screams as blood returns. I instinctively bring my hands down to the sensations, feeling the heat of my skin the screaming in my chest.

Even as it subsides, even as my brain turns back on, I know what I’ve done. I broke the damn tape. Of course I did.

“Thank you so much for the wrapping help, honey,” she says as kisses me softly and lays her head on my chest.

***My browsing is being limited by censors I believe, so I can’t link this up until after we get home 🤣***

Erotic Fiction

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.