Remember - He Knows! 2: He Still Knows

This story is fictional. If you think it’s about you or someone you know, that’s entirely by accident. Because this particularly story also contains elves, magic, and Santa, if you think it’s about someone you know, you might want to put down the egg nog and maybe find a therapist. It also contains adult themes including bondage and sex. If that bothers you, please read something else. Continued from Part One

Part 2: He Still Knows…

Miranda collapsed on to the couch, thoroughly bushed from her day. The trip to the PO Box had taken about two hours each way due to the weather, loading the Land Cruiser had taken a bit because there were lots of packages, and picking up groceries to last another two weeks always took time. Once she was home, there was wrapping all of the presents that she had gotten out of the packages, her elfish sensibilities making her get every corner perfect, every angle precise. But it was worth it – Bruce was certainly worth it.

She stirred her cup of hot cocoa with the miniature candy cane that hung over the lip of the cup to slowly dissolve and flavor the drink, stared into the fire, and replayed the last year. It was hard to believe it was a year ago that Santa had rewarded Bruce and her for being so good by depositing her under his tree. The sleep sack was distinctly bonus points, but it was hard to imagine how the two of them had gotten by without one another.

Bruce liked to describe himself as a sometimes recluse that lived one hundred miles from nowhere. And that was pretty accurate. He was apparently a hell of a geologist and could do a lot of his work from a remote house he’d had built, well, one hundred miles from the largest city around (which barely topped 30,000 people). Satellites kept them in contact with the world for phone, TV, Internet. A combination of a generator with two massive fuel tanks, solar cells, and geothermal kept their house as wired and comfortable as one in the middle of New York. Unless the fuel truck couldn’t make it, which hadn’t happened yet.

And they had been perfect for one another. When he unwrapped her that Christmas morning, he hadn’t even needed to ask who it was – he just knew. They’d kissed, making physical contact for the first time after dozens, maybe even hundreds of online play sessions. He’d freed her, fed her, then bound her with soft ropes he produced from the garage in three, no, four different positions as he teased her, tormented her, made love to her. It was incredible. It really wasn’t even until the next day that they’d spent any real time talking.

He believed her old cover story from online without hesitation, which struck her as a bit odd – didn’t the pointed ears give her away? Her figure was slim enough that many doctors would have wondered if she had a disorder, but the proportions were right so that didn’t seem so out of place. But the ears? Accepting that she was a freelance computer programmer/mechanical engineer from Seattle that just suddenly appeared next to his chimney? It almost bothered her, but the companionship, the sex, the bondage was so good she didn’t let it intrude.

But the first time they could really get outside and play was when she’d figured it out. It was still cold – still about a foot of snow on the ground and drifts that reached several feet about. But they’d decided upon a walk. Somehow the talk turned to childhood memories and games and when she’d mentioned she was the best, errrr, girl at hide & seek, he’d smiled and asked “Should we see if you still are?” Bruce did some hunting and had learned some tracking, so it might be fun to get some rope and track her as she tried to make it to a hill about a mile in the distance and back home again without getting caught.

“And if you catch me?” He’d grinned.

“That’s what the rope is for. You’re plenty light enough – I can carry you for hours without getting tired. But if I do you’re going to be my prisoner for the night.” She’d smiled and hastily agreed. And it was during that game that it suddenly all made sense. He gave her a head start, but he knew the terrain far better than she did. So as she reached to huge rock on top of the hill, he was already there. He was looking the wrong way, so she ducked into a copse and waited for her chance to sneak past him and tag the rock so she could strike out for home.

Fate seemed to have other plans, though. He turned and headed right for her, damned near right at the tree she was behind. She couldn’t decide if she would be disappointed at losing the game or happy to have been caught. Until he walked right by her, even looking right at her as he did.

It all made sense – she was still an elf and elfin magic still worked on humans. He overlooked her ears, bought her story, and never asked why she didn’t have a driver’s license or ID because of the magic. The magic that hid her now just as it hid the all the elves, all the buildings, everything at the North Pole whenever some satellite could take a picture or some clumsy oaf of an explorer/adventurer dropped by. The submarines were both the worst (they positively ruined streets or basements when they broke through) and the funniest (they had pictures of dozens of elves sitting on them making faces at captains, crew, and scientists).

She’d made a choice then – she would let him catch her. She ran to the rock, touched it, and purposefully fell face first in the snow with a loud “WHUMP” as she willed him to see her. And he did. And he put all of the 200 feet of rope he’d carried to work, nearly mummifying her slight, short form in the stuff. A bandana filled her mouth, rope holding it in (magically, it did so without marks or pinching). And he’d lived up to his word that he would carry her home and make her his prisoner for the night. When he’d grown tired, the sleep sack she had arrived in had been pulled out and she’d spent the night firmly in its embrace as well as his, cuddling all the while.

His work pulled him away for about a quarter of the year – some things just couldn’t be done remotely. But he’d managed to take her with him about half the time and they’d even visited some bondage clubs and stores, their collection of stuff expanding. She was limber enough that he could bind her elbows touching behind her back, her small but perfect elfin breasts jutting out even more when he did. He liked that position a great deal – he liked exciting her nipples, spreading her feet with a spreader bar and eating her until she begged for him to take her (gagged or not – it was obvious what she wanted), fingering her, toying with her. And finally taking her from so many positions – she was so light he could stand and lift her on to him – both front and rear. Sometimes many different ways in the same night until they both shouted in shared ecstasy, which magically seemed to happen with incredible frequency.

On one of the trips, they’d found a armbinder that was a deep red and a leg binder that was the color of evergreen. Of course, they’d bought both. He joked that when he put her in them it was like every day was Christmas. They’d even found satiny collars in red, white, and green that completed the ensemble. And though they spent plenty of time like “normal” people, it also wasn’t unusual to find her walking about in the armbinder, gagged, collared, hobbled, just enjoying being his slave.

And she’d learned why Santa had given him such a special gift – he’d known such suffering. A wife that died in childbirth, the poor baby lost as well. A father he’d barely known before a car accident, a mother that had struggled to see him raised and educated well. He’d had to watch her fade away from some horrible dementia that cost her even her memory of her son at the end. He’d moved away from people because they brought back those memories, though he didn’t seem to realize it – she knew. And yet he worked hard, kept enough to keep himself and retire without becoming a burden. And donated the rest to so many causes, always anonymously, never seeking recognition, only looking to help those who faced situations similar to his. If anyone deserved a gift such as being with her, he certainly was it. And she was such a good elf that she deserved him as well.

She yawned and stretched, staring into the fire. The presents were wrapped from the mundane, but necessary (underwear) to the utilitarian (a case for his smartphone that he could run over with his truck) to the purely enjoyable (a remote control vibrator, nipple clamps with bells that reminded her of a sleigh, and some lotions & oils that would provide fun sensations). She’d probably gone overboard, particularly since she had an even dozen for him and he had only three for her (albeit, larger). And it was time for a rest.

She contemplated waking him – leaping on him like a child attacking presents under the tree on Christmas morning. But suddenly even moving from the couch seemed like too much effort. She stared into the fire, which danced in a hypnotic fashion, as she lay her head down on the pillow at the end of the couch. Slowly, her eyes closed of her own accord and she faded into sleep…

…only to realize she was dreaming. She was back at the North Pole and it was obvious that the preparations for Christmas were complete. Elves frolicked in the street, having snowball fights, sipping elfin wine that no human drink could hope to replicate, enjoying each other with the hectic work of the season behind them. She smiled – it seemed like decades since she’d been here – she hadn’t even dreamed about it in the past. She could see the sleigh just departing, vanishing in the sky to a point of light just like any other star. A light snow fell.

Someone recognized her – a large elf she’d worked with named Galahad, which even the elves had thought was a funny thing to name your kid. He yelled at her from across the street and waved. She waved back and they met in the middle of the road (no traffic tonight – not allowed when the Christmas Special Party was on!).

“Miranda! Great to see you. I heard you were on a very special assignment.”

She grinned, “Yes, very special. Very fulfilling as well. How have you been?”

“Let me show you – things have changed a bit and you’ll appreciate it.” He held out his arm to her and she’d slipped hers through to let him lead the way.

“It must be some assignment. Santa wouldn’t even hint at what it is. But you’ll tell and old friend, won’t you?” He smiled a conspiratorial smile, which she knew well – he liked organizing practical jokes to keep the mood light.

She laughed, trying to picture what she would tell him if she could tell him. “Yes, I’m an elfin bondage slave to a wonderful man and my mission is to have sex with him a lot.” She giggled, then had to stop walking because it grew to too much of a laugh to continue for a moment. She had pictured the look on his face when she told him and the combination was too much to bear.

He had stopped, looking curious, which moved towards minor annoyance (elves don’t ever seem to make it to full-on angry). She steadied herself, took his arm again, and continued walking.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that I’m so giddy to be back her for a visit the memories are flooding me. Remember when you rigged the ornament machine to fire pixie dust mortar bombs into the woodworking hut? Everything and everyone floating for hours. Santa even had to send reindeer to get some that weren’t careful enough around the windows and nearly floated away.”

He grinned immediately. “Ah, yes. Good times.”

They chatted amiably as they walked, the fact that her “special assignment” had never actually been described pleasantly forgotten or ignored. The large double doors in the first of the machine rooms stood open, the machines idle for the first time in months. She involuntarily inhaled in surprise.

“Wow. Those are nearly all new, aren’t they?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “We figured out that there were no longer machines we could buy from the humans to improve, so we started working on them ourselves. Trust an elf to make it better!”

She glanced at a leather working machine to her right as they passed. Although it was idle, the display was still on. The number of pieces it says it had produced was staggering.

“Galahad, is that right? That’s nearly double last year’s production.”

He grinned and nodded. “Indeed. We’ve largely used the improvements to cut down on electrical consumption – everyone’s got to do their part, right? But most machines have improved by 150% or more.”

They passed out of the leather working room into a metal stamping plant. Similar improvements in both the form of the machines and the production they reported were immediately apparent.

“You know, Miranda, we have you to thank for a lot of that improvement. Particularly in the leather working area.”

“Really? How so?”

He paused next to a control terminal for a machine and tapped some keys. The code that appeared looked somehow familiar.

“It turns out the code you wrote for working with sensor data to position objects was simple incredible. So sensitive and accurate that I could program the metal working machines to wrap steel around you without pinching you once.” She was glad he wasn’t looking at her when he said that, focused instead at pointing to blocks of programming language. She’d never thought about that before and it took her away from the North Pole for a moment.

The moment he turned back towards her, she snapped back into reality. Well, her dream’s reality, anyway – she knew she still lay on the couch in front of a slowly dying fire, her cocoa now cold.

“Wow. I did that?” She smiled – that sensitivity had been a requirement for the machines to bind her without injury.

“Yep.” He took her arm again. “Wait until you see the ribbon room. It’s next up.”

As they walked through the doors, she could see that some elves were playing with the machines. They were wrapping silly things in ribbon to present to each other as mock Christmas gifts. Mugs, wrenches, the brush to clean the toilet. The wine had obviously been flowing freely here. But since the machines were running she could watch them and they worked at such furious speed with such incredible accuracy it was breathtaking. Particularly when a bow was called for – they came out perfectly tied, perfectly formed. Even delicate items (someone wrapped ribbon around an origami swan of ridiculous proportions , inspiring much mirth, but which let her see this in action) ended up with bows perfectly tensioned to stay in place without even wrinkling the delicate material.

“Incredible, isn’t it? Your work with some modifications by us. Good thing you document your code so well.” He turned an grinned at her. She blushed.

“Well, it’s really nothing, I was just…”

“Nothing?” He was smiling as he cut her off. “Santa’s been able to put more elves back on hand-making toys and gifts for the really good kids. Some want to build a statue to you for letting them do more of what they loved.”

She blushed again. He handed her a glass of wine.

“A toast to Miranda, folks!” Everyone raised their glass and drained it. She joined them. Even for elfin wine, it tasted a bit different, a bit sweeter.

“Miranda? She’s back?” There was a crush of elves around her suddenly. The wine, the emotion, the crowd made her feel a bit giddy.

Her childhood friend Olivia was suddenly next to her, pressing an envelope into her hand.

“This appeared at your old workspace this morning. I was going to tell Santa he should get it to you, but forgot. Lucky for us, you’re here!”

As she tore open the envelope, her dream world suddenly collapsed to reading the card within. The other elves, the ribbon machines, the noise – everything else faded away. It was in Santa’s handwriting.

“Miranda – you didn’t even realize how much good you have done here, let alone the good that Bruce does. You were always among the best of elves so my present wasn’t just for him at any time. I wanted you to know that because you deserved to, but can hardly stop to chat tonight. This magical dream is just more of that present. When you want to return to Bruce, just tell Galahad ‘Home, please’ and it will be so.”

She smiled – as she finished reading the noise, the commotion, her friends all returned to the foreground of her dream. The wine made her giggle at some of their antics, but already she longed to wake herself, get off the couch, and go climb into bed next to Bruce. Galahad stood conveniently next to her.

“Galahad? Home, please.”

The room suddenly fell deathly quiet, all elfin voices stopped. The elves still stood there, but now had a dreamy look in their eyes. Galahad extended his arm to her again, and said somewhat sleepily “As Santa commands.”

She expected them to escort her to the edge of town. To show her to a rocket they had built or a reindeer that would carry her. Instead, Olivia offered her an arm as well. Bruce had showed her “The Wizard of Oz,” so she smiled as she expected to reenact the Yellow Brick Road scene. And they started leading her towards the doors that went outside.

She was certainly not expecting when her escorts had gently, but with unbreakable firmness, grabbed her wrists and held her tight. “Galahad? Olivia? What?” They didn’t answer, but for some reason her dream kept her from being scared.

The elves surrounded her, firmly but gently holding her as they stripped her naked. She whined a little and asked for someone to explain what was going on. But nothing. The moment her panties had come off, they’d started swinging her as though they were going to fling her back to her house. She giggled at the ridiculous thought and relaxed even more. As they counted three, she closed her eyes…

…and found herself thrown into one of the ribbon machines. The wine seemed to have robbed her of the ability to move, because she offered no resistance as mechanical arms appeared and pulled her arms behind her back. They touched from her elbows down to her palms and she heard a humming noise and felt some pressure around them. She managed a glance over her shoulder and saw the spool of perfect red ribbon spinning around her arms, locking them in place from just over her elbows to her fingertips. It went up and down twice, inescapably trapping her limbs without any pain or discomfort. She could see the machine work its magic as a huge bow was tied at her elbows, large enough that it would protrude slightly passed her sides even if you looked at her from dead-on in front. Another, smaller one was tied at her wrists. Both were in a deep green that complemented the red perfectly.

She moaned in spite of the fact that there were at least a hundred elves within earshot. She simply couldn’t help herself. That caused an electric eye to drop from the top of the machine to scan her face. She playfully stuck her tongue out at it, not lost in the emotion enough to have completely lost her sense of mischief. It retreated to its original place and suddenly a large, decorative feather attacked her midriff from both sides at once. She laughed and tried to move away, but mechanical arms gently held her immobile.

As her laughter reached a peak, she closed her eyes and gave in to it, mouth wide open with abandon. She hadn’t ever thought she’d find this exciting, but it was definitely stimulating her. That feeling only increased as she felt something being pushed into her wide open mouth. She opened her eyes and could just make out a rubbery ball that somehow reflected light like a Christmas tree ornament. It was strapped in place, ribbon again forming the means of attachment (silver this time) and a bow tied at the nape of her neck. She hadn’t noticed the pump on it for some reason, but it was put to use by a mechanical arm and pumped until her mouth was completely filled and her tongue pinned to the floor of her mouth.

She was really starting to get going now – she could feel her sex getting moist. The arms held her so perfectly, her own arms useless behind her. She could already imaging Bruce doing this to her and it helped her drift deeper towards ecstasy. She arched her back a bit to accentuate the tight feel of the ribbon trapping her arms.

The machine had somehow expected that. She watched as something colored like a candy cane maybe 7” long passed in front of her eyes, travelling towards the floor. Her legs were already firmly held apart, so the mechanical arm that carried the candy-cane colored vibrator had no trouble inserting it, pumping it up and down several times for lubrication and to make sure it was seated properly. She nearly shouted and pumped her hips to help move it up and down, whining in frustration when the arm left it where it was and retreated.

She needn’t have worried. Thin ribbon suddenly worked its way around her waist to create a cleverly woven belt of connected silver and green snowflakes. It gripped her tightly above her hips without pinching, and was used as a base for a similar string of snowflakes that passed down between her legs, over her pussy lips and the vibrator, and up her ass until it reached the belt in the back. She felt bumps and ridges on the snowflakes near her clitoris. She whined and glared at the electronic eye that had inspected her – it wasn’t fair to give her a crotch-ribbon that she couldn’t use to actually get off and the pressure wasn’t quite right to do more than keep the vibrator in place.

Mechanical arms held her in the air as her legs were slowly, firmly, but gently bent back until her feet touched her ass. Two ribbon-bearing arms appeared, one with silver ribbon, one with green. The started by her ankles and wrapped spun rapidly downward, the speed incredible. The tension was perfect once again – although her skin dimpled at the edge, she could tell that there would be no danger from the position. Each stopped just before her knee, and then they traded sides to tie bows that fit the width of her leg perfectly so that her silver leg had a green bow, the green a silver one.

By now, she was fully lost and cared not a whit what the other elves saw or heard. She moaned, groaned, and thrashed. But between the arms that held her in position (to be fair, for her own protection at this point, being that she was three feet of the ground) and the way the crotch ribbon had been tied left her no way to add to her state of arousal.

The machine decided to help. An arm grabbed each nipple, initially causing her to shriek into her gag, then massaged them while a crazy arm drew red ribbon figure eights around the base of her breasts, compressing them without pain. A bow between her breasts accented the work, and was quickly followed with smaller loops of red ribbon around each nipple, each crowned with a bow.

It was almost enough, almost too much. Miranda cried Bruce’s name out and tried to thrash, but the machine just held her in position. She felt the ribbon start to move from just under her elbows around her before she could see it – silver this time. It pulled her elbows against her back, forcing her tits forward even more, accentuating the pressure of the ribbon around their base. She bounced up and down as best she could, complaining that the vibrator wasn’t on.

Then she felt a thin bit of ribbon slip across her ass under the crotch ribbon. It pulled just barely taut, and she thought she could feel it attach right at her fingertips. She tested, shifting her hands back as much as she could and felt it pull the nubs and ridges of the crotch ribbon against her in an incredibly pleasing way. As she started to pull, a small box was taped to her over her belly button. She nearly stopped pulling in curiosity, but one of the arms pushed a switch upwards and the vibrator suddenly came to life.

In no time, she was cumming, her orgasm loud even through the gag. She pulled on the string that pulled on the crotch ribbon and arched her back to make her breasts feel their bindings even more. She thought she would pass out…

…and opened her eyes to find that she was back in the living room of the home she shared with Bruce panting heavily with a sheen of sweat everywhere. She couldn’t feel the vibrator, but there was no question she was still bound. She looked down and the ribbon held her exactly as it had in her dream. She was kneeling by the stack of presents she’d wrapped for Bruce, white cotton padding underneath her to keep the pressure of the hardwood floor from becoming uncomfortable.

The clock on the wall said that it was almost six AM. The lights on the vibrator’s remote said it was still on, and she wondered where the buzzing was until it suddenly sprang to life. She began to spin towards climax again, struggling and even managing to lift a knee and thump audibly against the ground. She moaned when the vibrator suddenly stopped, and bounced up and down as best she could until she understood.

She could hear footsteps coming down the stairs…

You can enjoy more stories & art from Plswrap on his deviantArt page: http://plswrap.deviantart.com/

09.04.13