[This story is the latest in the series of stories about Margaret, the shy widow next door, and her evolving entwinement with her new Master Will. It has many aspects and could have also been listed under the Mature, Anal, and BDSM categories, among others. It has some references bodily functions, so if that bothers you, I suggest you read no further. All characters in this story are well over 18 years old.]
Shy Margaret's body-bag confinement leads to further ecstasy
It had now been three weeks since Will had met Margaret, the shy widow who had moved into the apartment next to his on the second floor of their apartment bloc. From the very first they had felt a strong attraction, and within a day or two, they had become surprisingly intimate and besotted with each other.
Margaret, in her early forties, was demurely voluptuous, much given to a wardrobe of extensive lingerie, elegant footwear, and classic dresses and blouses that seemed to date from the 1950's, back when women were ladies and proper ladies still wore white gloves when going to church or on shopping expeditions. Her makeup and manicures were impeccable, making things all the more delicious when she joyfully surrendered to the amorous humiliation and debasement that Will so skillfully dished out.
Will, for his part, was retired from a career in sales and had taken to filling his spare time with writing rather naughty stories for Littersmutica, the popular amateur erotica online site. In fact, at this very moment, Will was seated at his laptop in the corner of his living room that served as his author's study, with Margaret cosily ensconced nearby.
It was a very homey and comfy scene, save for the fact that Margaret was all zipped and strapped up tight in a full latex body-bag that encased her from her neck to her toes. They had foregone the full sensory deprivation hood so that Margaret, laid upon the settee, could gaze lovingly upon Will as he worked and hear his prurient patter as he kept feeding her little lewd and mortifying comments and observations.
Margaret loved her body-bag and how it made her feel. The latex encasing her was so smooth and sensuous as it pressed against her increasingly sweaty skin, matting her body hair - especially her muff, which was oozing her arousal down her thighs and bum-crack. The heat was intensifying, making her feel like a goose being slowly cooked in her own juices. Despite the second skin pressing her so tightly, she could detect her earthy smell of cunt juice and perspiration and a little leakage of pee, mixed with her perfume and the familiar odor of latex. It was a heady stench that was both embarrassing - so rude! - and terribly exciting. When deep in her sub space, she liked to imagine that she was just a slab of meat marinating in her own excretions, waiting patiently to be devoured by her Master when he determined that she was sufficiently cooked. God, she was so hot and horny, hovering on the edge of an orgasm, but never quite getting there.
Every so often, Will would get up from his writing to stretch his legs and quietly walk over to her to tease her by squeezing her entrapped titties and twat or pinching her toes through the latex bag. He would whisper little love names in her ear, like "dolly" or "my pet", and then mortify her by describing her strong odor or asking her lewd questions that she couldn't possibly answer as her mouth was stuffed with a bright red ball gag. He also liked to collect her drool from her lower lip and string it around her face like a trail made by a snail. Will did it all so casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to humiliate his very proper neighbor for hours on end.
For the moment he was back at his laptop, sharing his thoughts with his lovely captive.
"You know, my dear, it's the oddest thing. I just write my fetish stories of depraved little ladies - not unlike yourself - and think I've made a clever turn of phrase or a delicious description, and then I read a story that I don't think I've read before by one of the better authors on Littersmutica, and damned if they didn't use that same phrase or description in a story of theirs from, like, ten years ago!
"The same goes for story plots and scenes that just spring to my imagination. No sooner do I write them up then I discover that another author has come up with the same plot twist or scene in a story that went up on the site while my own story was 'pending' moderator approval! It must look like I am a terrible swipe artist.
"What the hell is going on here? It's as if we all share some kind of Collective Unconscious or mental database of shared archetypes and fantasies. It is just bizarre, don't you think?"
He glanced over at his adorable sub, who nodded vigorously while making muffled sounds of agreement. The ball-gag between her nicely painted dark red lips made formal conversation a bit difficult, but he had become adept at interpreting her moans and murmurs.
Believe it or not, this kind of recreational disposition had been at Margaret's suggestion. She loved feeling utterly helpless and under Will's control, but this way she didn't intrude too much on his need to concentrate. Margaret could slip into her "sub space" and feel her whole body glow from her immobilization. She adored that Will understood this need within her. She loved submitting to him, just letting him determine what he would do to her next.
Something deep within her craved his power over her, longed for him to carefully and delicately tease her receptive nerves, building her up to the very edge of ecstasy and then pulling back. It was deliciously maddening and soppingly so.
And once they agreed that it was time for her to emerge from her bondage, she was so horny that it took little effort for her to persuade Will to give her a vigorous shagging, with much manhandling of her delectable rump. Her late husband Paul has been no slouch in the rump fondling department, but Will had a style all his own that Margaret had rapidly come to adore.
Will got up from his laptop and ambled over to the settee, pinching Margaret's nipples through the PVC body bag and making her squirm to the degree she could - which wasn't much at all.
"What do you think? Had enough 'bag time' for today? I think I'm just about written out for this afternoon. 800 words in one clip is not too bad. I just wish I knew where this story was going. It's a bit of a mystery, really.
"Anyway, shall I scrape my little oyster out of her shell? Would you like that?"
Margaret nodded avidly, mumbling muffled nonsense sounds as Will gave her a devilish grin.
"Ah, but first I need to take a leak. Here, let me move you just so and remove your gag, so that I can use my gorgeous little toilet with her lovely painted lips."
Will reached behind her head and released the ball gag, giving her jaws a gentle massage after he had placed the gag aside.