Sleep Night, Sleep Tight · Part 1 (1/2)
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"I think you could do with an early night tonight. You're obviously overtired and cranky, so tonight can be your sleep night. Suggest that we get you ready for bed, because you do not want to be late, unless you want to miss your night out tomorrow."
Almost every argument in recent years had ended with those same words. In a fit of exasperation she huffed and threw up her hands, pointedly staring at the clock as it ticked over to 18:32.
She knew that there was no point in any further debate on the subject. She was now on the clock and any further prevarication could have severe consequences beyond this evening.
"What sane adult gets herself ready for bed at bloody six thirty in the evening," she thought to herself, as she stormed up the staircase, her high heels echoing on every wooden step as she attempted to make her feelings known without incurring further penalty.
Of course, it a question that she had asked herself almost every time that he had declared the evening a sleep night. To her, he was being unreasonable and controlling. In his mind, he was being caring and concerned for her welfare.
Before they were married she had been a workaholic, often working late into the evening and starting again with only a handful of hours sleep for nights on end. Eventually, this habit of burning the candle at both ends had taken it's toll, and it led to her burning out. Not only had she lost her job as a result, but their new marriage had suffered badly. She was often too tired to offer any kind of love and attention to her new husband, at a time when their relationship should have been blooming. Something had to be done to save their marriage, before it floundered beyond repair. Despite their problems, they loved still each other dearly.
So sleep night was introduced to their relationship. He decided that one night a week, she would be forced to have at least 12 hours rest, free of distractions of the world, so that her brain could rest and regenerate. From eight o'clock in the evening, until the same time the next morning, she would remain in bed and do nothing but rest. Despite her misgivings, she was prepared to accede to his wishes, in an effort to stay together.
Of course, there arguments and tantrums. Initial attempts to enforce the new rules were often met with defiance and outright revolt, despite knowing the consequences. Excuses were made and pleas were heard. Then there was the outright refusal to stay in bed. Eventually, out of desperation, he gave her an ultimatum. "Do as you're told or I will leave you."
"Make me," she snarled in reply.
Her taunts followed him down the hallway, leaving her to believe that once again she had won, but her confidence this time was short lived. He returned minutes later with two lengths of chain in his hands. The struggle was short and sweet, the result of which was that her ankles were surrounded in chain and a padlock, while a second chain connected them to the leg of the bed. There would be no getting out of bed that evening.
She lay in bed, at first furious with him for what he had done to her. This is assault, I will call the cops as soon as I am freed, she thought to herself. all the while shaking her ankles to try and force the captivating chains off her. But throughout her futile attempts to get free, another emotion was stirring inside of her, one which she had not encountered before. Whether it was the shock of her sudden captivity, or the sensation created by the friction of her thighs rubbing together she would never know, but she suddenly realised that for the first time in months she actually wanted sex with him.
Half expecting a missile to the head, the next morning, at eight o'clock on the dot, he went to release her. Instead, he was astonished to find her soundly asleep upon quietly opening the bedroom door. Intending to open the padlocks and make a hasty retreat, he was caught by surprise when she stirred as he fumbled about, trying to insert the key without rousing her.
"No, don't," she whispered, barely awake, "Fuck me first!" The instruction, and the tenderness with which it was delivered unnerved him somewhat.
"I have to undo your legs first," he countered, unsure as to whether she was talking in her sleep or not.
"Fine, but don't release me. I want you to fuck me while I'm still locked up in your chains." Her voice was husky, it sounded like she had been running. As if to emphasise her request, she desperately tried to part her thighs as much as her bonds allowed. The aroma that she gave off was unmistakable. She was desperately turned on.
Unlocking the padlocks, gently and with far more tenderness than when they were applied, he unwound the chain sufficiently for her to pull her left ankle free, without letting go of his hold on her right foot, reapplying the lock to trap her right ankle in a single loop of chain. Pulling on the excess he wrapped the other end around the corner of the bed frame, using the other padlock.
Slowly, he climbed onto the bed, moving her left leg out to the other side to make room.
"No," she whimpered, "I want you to do it properly."
Dismounting from her, he looked at her longingly, then with a promise to return quickly, made his way out to the garage. He returned with a handful more chain, padlocks and some cloth.
Gently grasping her left ankle, he wrapped the other chain around it, padlocked it and pulled slowly. She gasped as she felt her legs being drawn apart, forcing her to spread her legs so wide that she felt her vaginal muscles tighten. Never had she felt so vulnerable and yet so alive, but he wasn't finished yet. Shifting his body next to hers, her gently gripped both her her wrists with one hand, while adding more loops of chain to them with the other. The click of the lock brought a deep moan, as she tested the effectiveness of her makeshift hand cuffs.
She made no attempt to fight him when she felt her arms being pulled upwards, towards the headboard. Reflex caused her to jerk them back as soon as she heard the soft click, but it was too late. She was trapped and his, just as she had imagined she would be throughout the preceding night.
He had one last surprise for her. Carefully straddling her, knees either side of her breasts he carefully lifted her head and wrapped the cloth around her eyes. The lights went out for her, but inside her mind she could see so clearly how her new found desires would play out.
Things progressed quickly from that day on. They talked that night, both expressing to the other their feelings and emotions, both equally excited about the shared experience that morning. It was mutually agreed that sleep night was here to stay. As the weeks and months went on, they both went deeper and deeper into exploring new and exciting methods of bondage. Separately and jointly, they researched ideas and bought new pieces of equipment. She found that she relaxed best when totally deprived of sensory inputs and so various hoods were bought to experiment with. He enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing her fully restrained. Between them, they now had a routine that would satisfy both their needs and fantasies, while still retaining the original objective of sleep night.
Of course, none of those thoughts were anywhere close to her mind as she stomped up the stairs and slammed the bathroom door. Stripping off her clothes and flinging them angrily into the corner, she ran the shower and hurriedly climbed in, letting the hot water cascade over her as she started to calm down.
There was no point in fighting it. That had long since been proven. Rules were rules and he was the one who made them. The first rule was that he decided when sleep night was to fall, and he could decide at a minutes notice. As long as he gave her sufficient time to prepare herself it could be invoked any time providing that at least three days had elapsed since her last session, and had to be invoked at least twice in a fourteen day period. Rule two was that she had to be ready and in her bondage by eight o'clock sharp for her twelve hours enforced rest to start. Rule three was that if she wasn't ready by the 20:00 deadline, for whatever reason, the whole thing was repeated the next night as well.
She had learned the hard way not to play fast and loose with the rules, and still shuddered as she recalled the time that she had refused to dress properly and he had been ten minutes late finishing her restraints as a result. Unfortunately for her, the next evening a pile up had meant her getting home late from work, and missed the deadline a second time. Despite her pleas and sobs as he repeated the same procedure she had suffered the night before, that meant a third day of severe bondage in a row. It taught her no matter how angry she was, being late presenting herself for her preparation was not the thing to do.
The clock showed 19:10 by the time she had towelled herself off, and dried her hair. She deliberately kept her hair short these days, learning from her experiences of early days that a loose hair under a hood could cause a wealth of suffering over the twelve hours of her confinement. Several times, a single strand had been left brushing her nose or forehead when her hood was tightened. There was nothing more annoying when trying to sleep and on several occasions she came out of her cocoon far from rested, resulting in another session soon after.
With little time to spare, she brushed her hair through and climbed into the spandex catsuit that she preferred for these occasions. She had tried other materials of course, but latex was too hot, leather too heavy and sleeping naked had caused her get chilly during the night. The spandex gave her a gentle hugging feeling, kept her comfortably warm and allowed the bondage gear to slide into the correct position without getting caught up and pulled about.
19:15, and she was ready to face the evening. Now she had calmed down, she began to look forward to what lay ahead, which frequently culminated a session of passionate lovemaking upon her release in the morning, often still in various parts of her bondage. Calmly, and taking a deep breath, she opened the door of the bedroom where her husband and inquisitor was waiting amongst the carefully laid out bondage paraphernalia that she would soon be wearing.
There was a defined order to the process, established over many months, varying only by the addition of a new piece of clothing or gear. She knew the routine by heart, and presented herself in front of him, her hands placed on the back of her neck as he wrapped the leather and steel boned under-bust corset around her waist. Deftly clipping the busk together, he positioned it with care, ensuring that the breasts were cradled and supported but not squeezed. He had learned to love how, when fully tightened, it reduced her waist to a perfect twenty-two inches while enhancing her above average firm breasts and buttocks. She turned her back on him, allowing the laces to be drawn snugly tight but not, as yet, pulling her waist in. There was a time for that shortly but not yet.
Spinning her to face him again, he took one arm and fed her hand into a shoulder length leather glove. It was at least one size smaller than a proper fit, and it took some pulling to get the fingers fully into their corresponding pouches. By the time her other arm was clad in leather, she struggled to bend her fingers sufficiently to make a fist. Narrow straps above the elbows ensured that they would remain wrinkle free. The leather would offer some protection against the harshness of her arm restraints through the long night.
Not content with encasing her arms, mittens were next to be applied. Cuffs around her wrists secured them in place. The mitts weren't part of the final outfit, but they helped for the next stages in the dressing. Satisfied that they weren't going to slip, he indicated to the step, placed below a bar which hung off chains from fixings in the ceiling. She knew exactly what to do, and compliantly stepped up, raising her mittened hands to grasp the bar as best as she could through the layers of tight leather. Swiftly, he secured straps on the tips of the mittens to buckles on the wrist cuffs, preventing her from letting go of the bar, even if she wanted to.
"Ready?" he enquired. They were the first words that had passed between them since she had walked into the room. She nodded slowly, gripping the bar even tighter, her arms straightening and her heels lifting off the step. Taking his cue, the support was wrenched from under her toes, leaving her feet scrabbling to touch the floor. She knew from experience that the bar was set at the perfect height to prevent that elusive contact, but she still played the game.
He let her hang for a few minutes, knowing all too well that she was desperately trying to hold herself up in an attempt to lessen the tightening of the corset. It was, of course, cheating. But even though she had come to love the feeling of breathlessness that having her waist reduced by seven inches caused, the game had to be played. Inevitably, her strength gave out and she her body sagged under her own weight. She hung under the bar, limp and exhausted, the very tips of her toes now lightly brushing the carpet.
Quickly, he grabbed the corset laces and began to pull, watching with pleasure as the edges of the corset drew closer to each other. He stopped every so often, deftly working the ever decreasing loops between each eyelet to ensure an even result. As his goal of total closure grew closer, the effort he put in grew greater, accompanied by her groans, a mixture of discomfort matched by pleasure. Her waistline now possessed a well defined valley on both hips.
Satisfied at last, now that the edges were almost touching each other, he knotted the laces in the small of her back and tucked the residual ends into a pocket to one side. Once happy that they were tucked away, he covered them with two flaps of material, which were intended to cover the lacing and render the corset non-adjustable. A small steel ring sewn into the body of the corset allowed for the addition of a lock to seal the garment on the unfortunate wearer. All too familiar with both the sound and the purpose that it denoted, she recognised the finality of the click. Shallow, controlled breathing was now the order of the day.
His attention now turned to lower down, and he knelt at her feet, her toes still twitching in an effort to gain some purchases on the soft flooring. To her, it was bizarre that she had to wear boots to bed, but he had insisted on it from day one. During their initial sessions, he had chosen a pair of soft leather knee boots with very high heels. Although he loved the look of how the heels elongated her slim legs, he was never really satisfied that he could never strap her legs and feet along their full length because of the toe of the boot.
After a bit of research, he discovered ballet boots and found that they suited his purposes perfectly. Not only did they look the part, with their seven inch heels, the foot could be forced flat, ensuring no wriggling. Not only that, they were a useful tool in dealing with minor instances of disobedience on her part. A couple of hours in them was all she could withstand when having to move around. Tonight he was trying something a little different though. He had recently found a company that sold a style of ballet boot without any sort of heel. They were impossible to stand up on or walk in, but for his purposes, they were perfect.
Gently lifting her right foot, he slipped her toes into a clamshell of heavy foam which had been moulded to envelope her toes up to the second joint. Not only did they provide her with some padding for her toes, they stopped her from making the slightest movement of them as well. It was all part of his ultimate goal of stopping any movement, which could be a distraction to her. The boot was next. It slid onto her pointed foot, making certain that the shell was fully into the toe. He always did this without any lace in the boot, so that he could make sure that nothing was out of place.
Only then did he start threading the laces, pulling them with all of him might, so that her insteps and ankles were almost crushed by the leather. The boot only reached as far as her ankle, just about covering the line of skin below the leg of her catsuit, but when fully laced, it showed of the perfect straight line of her ankle.
Sleep Night, Sleep Tight · Part 1 (1/2)
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