Fic: Lockdown (mature for BDSM)
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I was having one of Those Days. It was supposed to be a good day, because my wife Angelica was going to have a full week off from her job as a motorcycle cop, but it went down the tubes around lunchtime. I didn't want to have it, because I knew Angelica would do something about it, but I was having it anyway.
So I cleaned, and vacuumed, and changed the sheets, and got the crock pot bubbling with a yummy enchilada stack, and then watched old cartoons on YouTube until I heard Angelica's civilian bike roar into the driveway. Then I knelt in the middle of the living room, palms up on my knees, like the barefoot, shirtless slave I was.
Yeah, we've got a complicated relationship. We're both comfortable with it, so you can just Deal, okay?
Angie walked in, setting her helmet down and automatically unbuckling her gun belt before putting it in the lockbox we kept underneath the end table. Then she took one look at me and asked, "What happened?"
I looked up at her. Angie was Cuban-American, with light brown skin, curly black hair, as tall as I am and probably a bit stronger. Especially when I was down on my knees and she was still dressed in her motorcycle boots. "What makes you think something happened?" I asked her, trying not to sound resentful that she'd twigged to my mood so quickly.
"I know you, escalvo," she said, nudging my knee of my jeans with the toe of her boot. "If your shoulders were any more tense your tendons would snap. What's happening?"
"It's nothing," I ground out between my teeth, looking back down at the floor. "Can we just forget about it? I want to start the weekend off right."
"If it's got you this upset, it ain't 'nothing,' esclavo," Angie replied. She reached down, fingers wrapping themselves in my hair as she pulled me to my feet. "Look me in the eye and tell me what's wrong. That's an order."
I sighed and finally said, "My dad called me."
"What? How?" Angie demanded. "We changed our numbers."
"He said he got my cell number from my doctor's office," I said. "Which means he bribed someone to violate HIPAA, because of course he did." Which was my dad in a nutshell. He knew he could bypass the rules if he just waved enough money around.
Angie let go of my hair and rubbed her face briefly. "What did he say?"
"Oh, the same old thing," I said. "'How could you marry that girl?' 'Your mother would be shocked if she were alive.' 'You think I want grandkids that are spics?'"
"Nice," Angie said sarcastically. "You tell him we didn't want kids?"
"I tried to," I replied. "He ignored me of course. His latest wife flat out told him she wasn't going to be his brood mare, so his only option left to get an heir is me."
"He knows even if we did have one, he'd never even see the kid, right?" Angie asked.
"He doesn't care," I growled, as I began to pace back and forth across the living room rug. I didn't have many steps to take before I had to turn around. Our house is maybe ¼ the size of the home I grew up in, but it's ours, and it's big enough for the both of us. "He thinks he can bribe me into crawling back to him."
"With what?" she asked. "He cut you off from your inheritance."
"Apparently I'm not as cut off as I thought I was," I said to her. "I could have it back, he said."
"In exchange for what?" Angie asked.
"Doesn't matter," I replied, turning away from her. I didn't want her to see my face.
Angie didn't say anything, which should have been enough of a warning to let me know how mad she was getting on my behalf. Which was when grabbed my wrist, twisted me around to point me towards the couch, as she fished out a pair of plastic cuffs, cinching them tight as she bound my wrists behind my back
"Angie, what the f-mmrrrph!" I started to shout, as my face landed in the cushions. She pressed one leg down on my back, her knee resting on the back of my head to keep it down in the cushions as she reached over to the end table. She opened the drawer to grab a folded handkerchief and a plastic dispenser holding a roll of Gorilla Tape. The former got stuffed into my mouth as soon as she pulled my head back up for air. Then she started yanking off strips of black tape, pressing them over my mouth, cheeks, and under my chin, until I was gagged tight.
After that struggling as pretty pointless, as I was forced to breathe through my nose. Angie took hold of my hair again, keeping me from getting away as she pulled bundles of white cotton rope from the drawers. The first few loops went around my ankles, hobbling me so I couldn't escape. Then more rope went around my wrists, so she cut off the disposable cuffs before they dug into my skin. Next the ropes were cinched above and below my knees. I let out a grunt when she forced my elbows together. I was pretty flexible, but I knew I could only hold a position that stringent for about thirty minutes at best before safewording. Then starting braiding more rope into my hair, forcing my head back she pulled me into a tight hogtie, anchoring my wrists to my ankles, adding more rope across my shoulders.
I started to let out some increasingly desperate noises under my gag as the strain began to build, but Angie ignored me. With a heave she moved me from the couch to the square iron coffee table, laying me on my side, diagonally across the top of the table, and adding more ropes to my predicament.. She anchored me by my knees and shoulders to the opposite corners, then used the other two corners to begin building a web of rope around me, pinning me like a fly in a spider's web.
I knew what she was doing. Angie wasn't just restraining me. The plastic zip cuffs would have been more than enough to do that. She was possessing me, marking me as her property, her esclavo husband. Letting me know that I was utterly helpless to prevent her from doing whatever it was she wanted to me.
I felt my cock bulge against the front of my jeans, as I bucked and struggled as Angie cinched the ropes tight. When she'd finished she patted my head and said, "I'll be back in a sec, esclavo."
She disappeared upstairs for maybe ten minutes. When Angelica came back down, she'd stripped out of her police uniform, and into her other uniform. She wore skin tight black leather pants laced up the sides and tucked into black spike heeled boots with silver buckles. Her torso was hugged by a black bustier, and she wore a silver chain belt from which hung her flogger. Finally she wore black kid gloves, which creaked as she flexed her fingers and ran her hand through my hair, as I made desperate whimpering noises.
"I know what your dad wants, esclavo," Angie told me, fingertips tracing the tears running down my cheeks, as my shoulders and arms began to ache. "He thinks if he waves enough money in front of your nose you'll give me up, is that right?"
I nodded, snuffling slightly.
"I guess he never took that whole ''til death do us part thing seriously" she went on. She sat on the edge of the table, petting my cheek slowly. letting me nuzzle her palm. "But I do," Angie said. "And so do you. You don't have to prove anything by being brave and silent, trying to spare my feelings. You should have told me what happened the second you got off the phone with that jackass."
I made an I'm sorry noise behind my gag, as I sniffed her leather glove, growing more relaxed despite my increasingly uncomfortable position.
"Oh, you're sorry?" she asked. When I nodded, Angie said, "No, but you will be. You think you can stand being tied up for seven days straight? Because you will be now. We promised there'd be no secrets between, remember?"
Uh, huh, I murmured, feeling my cock grow hard as an iron rod in my pants, tent-poling against my jeans. Seven days in Angelica's ropes was my idea of heaven.
"That's seven days of being tied up," Angie said, grinning evilly as she unzipped my pants, and grabbed my cock with her gloved hand, squeezing it tight. "Didn't say anything about you cumming, esclavo." She leaned over to whisper into my ear. "Because if you do, you're going to be punished."
I could only hope....