*Hi Guys! Sorry it's been a while! Inspiration has been lacking for a couple of months, but I've wrangled it back, and hopefully will be able to add a few new chapters while I've got it.
I hope everyone had a great festive period and new year!
Thanks for all the comments/rates/feedback for Ch. 10, I think it was always going to be a contentious subject but I get a bit compulsive when I've committed to an idea. Let me know what you think of this chapter.
Ch. 12- Big Celebrations is now being penned.*
Have you ever had one of those nights? The ones where you can't seem to fall asleep, no matter how hard you try? The ones spent rolling around for countless hours, trying to find an almost semi viable position that you might be able to settle in? The ones during which you realise, as sleep fails to take hold, that you're doomed to endure the restlessness until it's time to wake up?
I'm having one of those nights.
Linda insisted on my coming upstairs for the night at around nine o'clock. She followed the normal routine with me, no different to usual. Letting me use the toilet. 'Helping me' undress for bed. Clicking her fingers at me impatiently, while demanding I get into my camp bed, before strapping me onto it. Finally turning the light off and leaving me alone, while she went back downstairs and enjoyed the rest of her evening with my husband.
The only difference tonight, is that instead of drifting to sleep to the murmured sounds of them laughing and talking from the room directly below me, my attempts to induce sleep failed miserably.
I'd still been awake when they'd come up to bed themselves, conducting their own bedtime rituals and then climbing into the king-size bed that Tom and I used to share. It's far more flamboyantly dressed now than I'd ever made it; boasting two hundred thread count cotton sheets and quilt covers to match the curtains. Yet another example of Linda's snobbish housekeeping.
Neither of them had cast a glance over to me and didn't notice me staring across the darkened bedroom in their general direction. They'd whispered between themselves until Linda had slipped under the covers and proceeded to give Tom an indulgently slow blowjob as he'd lain, moaning out pleasured breathy expletives.
I'd seen the silhouette of her head bobbing up and down from underneath the duvet cover.
I'd watched Tom's toes curling as she'd brought him closer and closer to the brink of cumming, before he'd groaned out loudly and presumably treated her to a hot throatful of his spunk.
She'd emerged from the covers and snuggled into him, lovingly.
Tom had taken a moment, before returning the affection by reaching down between her legs, and making the duvet move in a different way as he'd fingered her.
It'd not taken long for her to purr out his name and grip hold of his bulging biceps while orgasming over his hand. He'd gotten hard again in the time it'd taken her to cum, and he'd climbed on top of her, initiating a passionate fucking session which'd left the room thick with the smell of them by the time they'd finished and fallen asleep in each other's arms.
That had been hours ago.
I should be lost in a black hole of my own mind by now, sleeping soundly. But I'm not. I'm awake, and I'm becoming increasingly frustrated about being so. My eyes are hurting with tiredness.
When Tom and I had been happily married and sharing a bed, before Linda's interference, I'd occasionally had nights like this. Whenever I'd complained to Tom about it, he'd sighed and told me to visit the doctors for sleeping tablets. I'd always declined to, feeling my insomnia to be too infrequent to justify medication.
I'd found my own solution instead, a more natural remedy.
If I'd ever struggled to sleep back then, I'd simply slipped my hands between my thighs, under the covers and circled my clit for a few minutes with my fingers until I brought myself to climax. I never had any trouble getting to sleep after an orgasm.
I always assumed my self-induced cure for sleeplessness had been a secret, until Tom dispelled my assumption by telling Linda all about it. I'd been surprised at his knowledge of my nocturnal activities, but worse than that, his disclosure had led to her insistence upon implementing the bed restraints.
She'd voiced tremendous disapproval at my having any control over my own pleasure.
An orgasm would work wonders for me now, I'm certain of it.
If I was able to bring myself to one, I have no doubt that I'd be asleep within a few minutes.
I look around the room again, for the thousandth time tonight. I can hear Tom and Linda breathing deeply, probably dreaming about new ways to degrade me.
They've no idea that I'm still awake and they never will.
I squint over and see Linda's long, blonde hair spread across her pillow. Her face is nuzzled into Tom's arm, and he looks to be holding her protectively in his slumber. His Linda. The apparent love of his life. There's no sense of personal space between them.
He and I never slept like that together. Not once, in eleven years of marriage. We'd both liked our own sides of the bed, and I'd never viewed that as an omen of discontent. I find myself thinking that Linda orchestrates their sleeping position as some sort of pointed dig at me, bragging that she's more compatible with Tom, even in their sleep.
I pre-empt the morning, in a few hours' time. The way Linda will shake me awake, her brown eyes sparkling as she smiles down at me, full of optimism for the coming day.
I think about how awful I'm going to feel as she wakes me and how she's going to berate me for my inevitable irritability. My unpleasant demeanour will undoubtedly set the tone for the rest of the day. They'll anticipate trouble and take initiative by preventing me from doing anything at all. I expect I'll be secured to the dining table from dawn until dusk, vibrated into blubbering submission.
I haven't even got the means to disguise my tired complexion behind my hair anymore. Linda robbed me of that luxury about a month ago too.
If I could somehow give myself an orgasm, I'd at least be capable of supressing my contempt for them for the day and not incur further punishments for a 'bad attitude'.
Surely this could be seen as a noble incentive to try.
I pull my right arm down from above my head, seeing how far the bed restraint will stretch.
I make sure to move slowly to avoid the metal connections chinking and giving me away. I reach the bottom of my ribcage before my movement becomes restricted. I splay my fingers out, stretching down desperately towards my pussy.
"For fucks sake," I curse to myself.
I relax my arm again and bring the fabric cuff into view above my face. If there's no compromise in the stretch of the strap, maybe there's some in the cuff.
