To remind you, I set out to write the perfect four-page story and end up droning on for many more than that. There are some comments to the earlier chapters. My take-aways are a. People seem to enjoy the story so far. I will take their 'likes' as confirmation though many are silent and do not comment which to me is a weak endorsement. b. One reader appears to hate the word 'vulva,' which seems odd since that is the technical name for the genital region of a woman. I presume they are more fixated on slang like 'pussy' or something instead. c. I want to encourage helpful comments when possible. To be frank, I may have one more chapter in me to this story so make sure you let me know if I should continue.
Note: Ordinary actions and dialogue are written as normal text.
Note:
Italics
in this story represent the internal THOUGHTS of one of the characters.
Note: This story is written in the first person, as seen from the point of view of a participant. This is incidentally the name of the story as well for reasons that will become clear.
FIRST PERSON - CHAPTER 3
I felt too rather than saw Mags sit up then. Some shifting of the couch cushions as her buttocks pressed down.
I moaned quietly into that damned gag -- lying there. Still securely tied. Unable to free myself and still weak with the aftermath of intense pleasure.
Then I felt her gentle fingers on the back of the gag.
"Let me take this gag off you... princess." Mags said quietly patting my shoulder gently.
I grunted three times in rapid succession. Encouraging her.
I have never been gagged. It was wild. But it sure does suck the liquid out of your mouth.
I felt her fingers moving and knew she was unhooking the bra clasp, working it loose from the fabric. She got it eventually and I felt a lot of the pressure go off the gag and the elastic that had been tugging up into my armpits relaxed. A minute more and she loosened the knots in the cloth and I felt the wad across my lower face finally fall away.
What a relief!
I worked my jaw inside my shirt hood gratefully.
"Let me get that for you too." Mags said helpfully.
I felt her take the shirt material at the back of my skull she peeled the hood/shirt forward, adding it to the tangle of bra material across my upper chest and I felt cool air on my face again after a fair amount of time without it. A relief.
I feel like a butterfly fighting its way out of a chrysalis. I am sure my hair is a mess!
I thought randomly and blinked.
"Let me help you up." Mags put her hands on each of my shoulders and tugged so that I was sitting up fully on the couch again. She shifted past me and stood up.
As she did so I looked down and saw a mess of layered cloth lying beside me on the couch. There was a wet soggy patch in the middle of it.
From my mouth! It's the gag! It's what I was gagged with. What is that?
Then it struck home. It was Mag's skirt. She had used her sash/belts to tie me with and she used her rolled up skirt to gag me!
I looked up at her, my eyes wide.
Mags was standing looking down at me. She had removed her skirt to gag me. She was wearing only her panties on her lower body. Mags was trimmer than me. I always thought of myself as lush. I always thought of Mags as fit. Toned. Her trim lower body lived up to that assessment. Her lean flanks were shadowed. The musculature moving just under the skin. Then, without prompting my eyes drifted to her panties. They were a pale blue. They looked as if they had been pasted to her. Following every curve. I had never seen her lower body before. We had never been swimming together or wearing suits. She had a camel-toe where her panties scrunched up into her outer labia.
That is her pussy!
I jerked involuntarily to realize what I was seeing. Pulling on my still bound arms behind me thoughtlessly. Looking at her naked thighs inches away. Suddenly painfully aware of her pussy inside her panties. So close to my head. My face.
What am I thinking? Don't look. Don't look! This is the woman who just...! Maybe she will untie me. Let me go. What am I doing? I just a let another woman play with me. Give me an orgasm! Now I am looking at another woman's labia inside her underwear!
Mags just stared down at me while all this ran through my head at a hundred miles an hour.
It made me nervous... that particular stare. Tied up as I was, I felt that she was somehow in control of me. I tried to meet her eyes boldly. I was acutely aware I was helpless to stop her doing anything further to me.
"Here!" Mags said. I felt her hand on one of my shoulders. "Why don't you come off the couch."
I involuntarily tried to stand up fully, but found her hand on my shoulder pushing down instead. She did not want me standing... off the couch but not standing? What did that leave? The tangle of my pants and panties still encased my ankles making it awkward to walk or even get my feet under me. I was confused.
She stepped closer. Inches from me.
Oh! What is she? Her pretty blue panties are... Her pussy is right there near my face. The shape of her mons clearly outlined.
I smelled a musky scent.
The scent of another woman!
So that is what another woman smells like.
Mags put her other hand on my opposite shoulder and under her prodding I crouched and moved my butt off the couch. It was eminently clear she wanted my knees on the rug. Mags wanted me kneeling. I tugged on my bound wrist and elbows to remind myself of how helpless I was to stop myself from complying.
I have to do what she wants!
I gave myself permission and just knelt down on the rug by the couch. Trying and failing not to see the crotch of those panties in my peripheral vision.
Mags stood over me now. Looking down at me kneeling.
Kneeling before her!
I could barely look up at her. Trying to meet her eyes and failing. Lowering my eyes only to let them skitter off where her labia crowded the gusset of her panties. I ended up just staring at her knees instead. Suddenly extremely nervous. My position, tied at her feet was so suggestive of captivity. I swallowed.
Why am I so nervous? I'm so helpless. Why am I breathing so hard? What is it that she wants now? I am so tied up!
I wriggled my wrists. Felt the pressure above my elbows with weak tugs.
I really was a damsel-in-distress at that moment.
Mag's damsel.
Her tied-up maiden.
Mags stood over me. She must be staring down at me but I could not look. Bound at her feet.
There is nothing I can do. She has me.