Caught
My wife was angry with me for catching me wearing her lingerie and clothes.
“Now I understand why things are not where I put them in my dresser, I thought I was losing my mind."she said.
"You know what?" my wife's voice was eerily calm. "You're going to sit right there and think about what you've done. I need some time to decide your punishment."
With that, she turned on her heel and left the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. I could hear the sound of her rummaging through their garage, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. I knew my wife wasn't one to make empty threats. I had a suspicion that she was about to bring in something that would make my current situation seem like a walk in the park.
Moments later, myy wife returned, her arms laden with coils of rope. The look in her eyes was one of determination mixed with a hint of something darker, something that made my knees wobble slightly. She approached me slowly, the ropes trailing behind her like the tail of a vengeful demon.
"You're going to learn to respect my boundaries," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Now, put your hands behind your back."
I, still in shock, obeyed without question. My wife's hands were firm as she began to bind my wrists tightly with the rope, looping it around and around until he could feel the bite of the material into his skin. Then she moved to my elbows, tying them together just as securely. I winced as she tugged on the knots, making sure they were snug. My wife's movements were deliberate, each one a silent declaration of her dominance in this unexpected situation.
Next, she worked on my legs, tying my ankles and then my thighs, making it impossible for mr to do anything but stand there, feeling more exposed than I had ever felt before. My wife then looped the rope around my torso, creating a harsh, unyielding corset that compressed his chest, pushing the lacy cups of her bra up against my own flesh. I could feel his breathing grow shallower, my heart racing as the reality of my predicament set in.
Finally, My wife took a pair of her worn panties from the bedside drawer and stuffed them into my mouth, tying the waistband around my head to keep them in place. The fabric tasted faintly of her, a scent that was both familiar and forbidden under the circumstances. She stepped back, surveying her handiwork with a critical eye before nodding in satisfaction.
"You stay right there," she ordered, pointing a finger at me "And think about what you've done."
With that, My wife turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind her. I, now fully secured and unable to move, could do nothing but wait. The silence was deafening, the only sounds the ticking of the clock on the wall and the muffled thud of his own racing heart.
As my wife walked away, I heard the distant sound of her footsteps and the creak of the floorboards beneath her feet. The house was otherwise still, the usual comfort of our home now transformed into a prison of my wife's making. I had no idea what she had planned for me.
The minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. My mind raced with thoughts of apologies, explanations, and pleas for forgiveness. I had always loved my wife, but I had also loved the secret thrill of wearing her clothes. I had thought it was a harmless release, a way to feel closer to her when she wasn't around. But now, standing there in her lingerie and pantyhose, bound and gagged with her scent all around him, I realized just how wrong he had been.
Suddenly, the door flew open with a bang that made me jump. My wife stormed in, her eyes flashing with a fury I had never seen before. She was holding a camera in her hand, and for a moment, I felt a spark of hope that maybe she had found a way to deal with this that didn't involve the humiliation I was expecting.
"I've been thinking," my wife said, her voice like ice, "and I've decided that you need to be reminded of your place in this house. You will be my little plaything tonight."
With that, she snapped a photo of me, the flash momentarily blinding me. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, my eyes watering from the sudden brightness. My wife took a few more shots, each one capturing my vulnerability in a way that made my stomach twist. I could see the satisfaction on her face as she reviewed the images, and I felt a strange mix of fear and arousal that I couldn't explain.
"Look at you," my wife said, her tone mocking. "So pretty in my things. I think it's time we had some fun, don't you?"
Without waiting for a response, she began to untie the rope around his chest, her movements quick and efficient. She was enjoying this, I could tell, and the realization made my heart sink. I had hurt her, and now I was going to pay the price. My wife's eyes gleamed with a newfound sense of power as she continued to undo the knots, leaving me bound but slightly less constricted.
Once she had finished, my wife stepped back, admiring her handiwork. Then, she leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. "You're going to be my little slut tonight," she whispered, her voice a dark caress that sent shivers down his spine. "And when I'm done with you, you're going to beg for forgiveness."
With those words hanging in the air, my wife left the room again, the door closing with a soft click. I was left alone, bound and gagged, my thoughts a tumult of confusion and dread. I had never seen this side of my wife before, and I didn't know if I could handle what was coming next. But deep down, I knew that I had brought this on myself, and that I would have to find a way to navigate the storm that was about to engulf our marriage.
"You know what?" my wife's voice was eerily calm. "You're going to sit right there and think about what you've done. I need some time to decide your punishment."
With that, she turned on her heel and left the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. I could hear the sound of her rummaging through their garage, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. I knew my wife wasn't one to make empty threats. I had a suspicion that she was about to bring in something that would make my current situation seem like a walk in the park.
Moments later, myy wife returned, her arms laden with coils of rope. The look in her eyes was one of determination mixed with a hint of something darker, something that made my knees wobble slightly. She approached me slowly, the ropes trailing behind her like the tail of a vengeful demon.
"You're going to learn to respect my boundaries," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Now, put your hands behind your back."
I, still in shock, obeyed without question. My wife's hands were firm as she began to bind my wrists tightly with the rope, looping it around and around until he could feel the bite of the material into his skin. Then she moved to my elbows, tying them together just as securely. I winced as she tugged on the knots, making sure they were snug. My wife's movements were deliberate, each one a silent declaration of her dominance in this unexpected situation.
Next, she worked on my legs, tying my ankles and then my thighs, making it impossible for mr to do anything but stand there, feeling more exposed than I had ever felt before. My wife then looped the rope around my torso, creating a harsh, unyielding corset that compressed his chest, pushing the lacy cups of her bra up against my own flesh. I could feel his breathing grow shallower, my heart racing as the reality of my predicament set in.
Finally, My wife took a pair of her worn panties from the bedside drawer and stuffed them into my mouth, tying the waistband around my head to keep them in place. The fabric tasted faintly of her, a scent that was both familiar and forbidden under the circumstances. She stepped back, surveying her handiwork with a critical eye before nodding in satisfaction.
"You stay right there," she ordered, pointing a finger at me "And think about what you've done."
With that, My wife turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind her. I, now fully secured and unable to move, could do nothing but wait. The silence was deafening, the only sounds the ticking of the clock on the wall and the muffled thud of his own racing heart.
As my wife walked away, I heard the distant sound of her footsteps and the creak of the floorboards beneath her feet. The house was otherwise still, the usual comfort of our home now transformed into a prison of my wife's making. I had no idea what she had planned for me.
The minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. My mind raced with thoughts of apologies, explanations, and pleas for forgiveness. I had always loved my wife, but I had also loved the secret thrill of wearing her clothes. I had thought it was a harmless release, a way to feel closer to her when she wasn't around. But now, standing there in her lingerie and pantyhose, bound and gagged with her scent all around him, I realized just how wrong he had been.
Suddenly, the door flew open with a bang that made me jump. My wife stormed in, her eyes flashing with a fury I had never seen before. She was holding a camera in her hand, and for a moment, I felt a spark of hope that maybe she had found a way to deal with this that didn't involve the humiliation I was expecting.
"I've been thinking," my wife said, her voice like ice, "and I've decided that you need to be reminded of your place in this house. You will be my little plaything tonight."
With that, she snapped a photo of me, the flash momentarily blinding me. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, my eyes watering from the sudden brightness. My wife took a few more shots, each one capturing my vulnerability in a way that made my stomach twist. I could see the satisfaction on her face as she reviewed the images, and I felt a strange mix of fear and arousal that I couldn't explain.
"Look at you," my wife said, her tone mocking. "So pretty in my things. I think it's time we had some fun, don't you?"
Without waiting for a response, she began to untie the rope around his chest, her movements quick and efficient. She was enjoying this, I could tell, and the realization made my heart sink. I had hurt her, and now I was going to pay the price. My wife's eyes gleamed with a newfound sense of power as she continued to undo the knots, leaving me bound but slightly less constricted.
Once she had finished, my wife stepped back, admiring her handiwork. Then, she leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. "You're going to be my little slut tonight," she whispered, her voice a dark caress that sent shivers down his spine. "And when I'm done with you, you're going to beg for forgiveness."
With those words hanging in the air, my wife left the room again, the door closing with a soft click. I was left alone, bound and gagged, my thoughts a tumult of confusion and dread. I had never seen this side of my wife before, and I didn't know if I could handle what was coming next. But deep down, I knew that I had brought this on myself, and that I would have to find a way to navigate the storm that was about to engulf our marriage.
