Turn of Events 2: Developing Events

This is a continuation of "Part 1: Turn of Events," which you'll find posted here. This is a work of fiction of a sexual nature with mature themes. If that's not your cup of tea (we'll ignore the obvious question as to why you're visiting this site), read something else. If you think this is you - it's not because I don't know anyone that's ever had this happen to them. Copyright remains with me unless specifically released, although reposting to sites without any membership fees is permitted.

Part Two: Developing Events

My night wasn’t a comfortable one, and not just in a physical sense. In addition to the layers and layers of plastic wrap that Karyn had trapped me in, the decorative pole that occasionally dug into my back, the fact that I was both tired and fighting a hang-over simultaneously – on top of all of that I had little to do but stand there and think in the dim light of the living room. And while I probably needed to do some of that, it’s one thing to do it because you need or want to, it’s quite another to do so because you’ve been physically welded to a pole and have to face some of your inner demons.

Of course, I suspect this was exactly Karyn’s intention, which made me positively livid. How that petite slip of a woman had managed to get me this way could only be written off to my own stupidity and impulsiveness. I hadn’t asked enough questions when we met, I certainly hadn’t thought through accepting her offer to join me at my hotel suite, and I really hadn’t considered what an absolute stranger might do when you get completely hammered on them.

I’ve been a world class idiot for at least 72 hours, and that’s not something a successful, intelligent, reasonably attractive businessman really wants to face up to.

But there really wasn’t much that I could do about it, short of pulling futilely on the plastic wrap and occasionally attempting a shout through my gag. So I stood in the semi-darkness and watched my inner demons emerge.

I thought about my relationship with Marie and what Karyn had said about who held the power.

I thought about my approach to Karyn in the brief time I’d known her and the fact that I had been looking forward to manipulating her into a quick fling because she was damned attractive.

I thought about why it was I was so damned pissed about the end of my relationship with Marie.

And despite the fact that I really didn’t want to, I thought about the fact that every time I struggled, I found a small jolt of erotic pleasure run through me, and one that seemed to grow over time and with the feeling of increased helplessness.

How much frigging wrap had she used, anyway? While I’d be unconscious for much of the work, I tried replaying the wrapping I had seen in my mind to figure it out. I mean, this is stuff that I use to store leftovers in the fridge and I tear without much effort when I’m using it. But here I was, reasonably fit, made one with a fairly uncomfortable pole with a film of plastic just a hair’s width thick.

Then I started getting pissed at Karyn. I was pissed that she’d done this to me in the first place. I was pissed she hadn’t been considerate enough to drop a pillow or three behind me so the occasional ornament didn’t dig into my flesh when I struggled.

But I was really, really pissed that she’d held my manhood down and wrapped it in a position where any state of arousal was completely impossible. At least, it was unless I achieved superhuman erectile strength, burst through the plastic and could finally get some sense of relief. Either that or I’d have to somehow grow razorblades in a few strategic locations.

I dozed a bit, too. Sleep isn’t the right word for what happened in my predicament. It was “nice” (and I use that term very, very damned loosely) that she’d wrapped my head to the pole. It let me relax my neck without it dropping to my chest and creating nasty kinks. And that probably helped me get any form of rest at all. But when you try to shift positions and nothing moves, plus there’s the accompanying “crinkling” noise from the wrap that’s holding you, you don’t really sleep. You doze. I figure I might have napped for two or so hours as the clock on the DVD player ticked off the time from just before ten PM when I’d started coming around to the present, which as just after seven.

I was a bit groggy, I was pissy, and surprisingly, I was pretty damned horny and frustrated.

So when the muffled sound of the bedroom door reached my ears, my reaction was quite mixed.

Karyn emerged wearing the same dynamite red nightgown she’d had on the night before. For some reason it hadn’t registered to me that it was floor length before, which did nothing to detract from it. The light behind her in the night had silhouetted her legs marvelously, so the material wasn’t all that thick. In the brighter light of the day, it wasn’t nearly as see-through, though.

Still – horny and frustrated moved a bit more to the forefront of my mind upon seeing her.

Maddeningly, she waved to me on her way to the kitchen with a smile on her face. It wasn’t a “cat got the canary” or shit-eating grin, which is what I would have really expected. Particularly if Marie had done this to me. It was just a regular, “Good morning” kind of smile.

I heard some fiddling in the kitchen and in a few minutes she returned, holding two large glasses of orange juice, one with a straw in it. She set them down on a nearby end table and stood right in front of me.

“Stephen, I know you’re probably many things right now and one of them is pissed as hell. That’s fine. But when I take the gag out of your mouth to talk, if you scream or shout even once I’m going to kick you in the balls so that you’ll open your mouth and I can put the gag back in. So let’s be adult about this, OK? If that doesn’t happen I can have you completely helpless again while I pack up, get the hell out, and you can wait for the maid service to hit the room. Grunt three times if you understand that and agree to those terms.”

Left with little choice, I took a deep breath to work on control and grunted three times.

“Good. Let me grab one of the chairs so I can sit down in front of you, and we’ll work on getting that gag out and giving you some OJ.”

She headed back to her room for a moment, returning with a pair of scissors in her hand. She pulled over one of the more portable chairs, a nice arm chair with a padded back and seat, then held up the scissors. They had a rubber tip on the bottom tip - medical shears.

“These won’t likely cut you, but if you move and rub against them they might. So hold still.”

She pierced the wrap by the base of my neck with the unprotected tip, then began cutting around me and the pole. When she’d created a complete circle, she went around to the back and obviously cut upward, then removed the wrap around my head. That left the wrap that was around my mouth and face, which she snipped carefully up my cheek.

When she pulled out the gag, I realized it was a washcloth that had been carefully folded. The fold was to the back of my mouth, and apparently the ends had hung outside my cheeks.

“Makes it hard for the thing to slip,” she said. “I didn’t want you choking. OJ first? Or talking?”

My voice was a bit crackly from being parched, and I had to clear my throat before I could talk.

“OJ. Why the hell did you…”

“You said OJ first, so let’s see to that. Remember, Stephen, I’m in control and you’re just going to have to accept that.”

She held the glass up and got the straw into my mouth. I began to drink greedily – the dehydration from the drinking and being this way all night had me parched. As I did, she talked.

“I told you, Stephen, I know what your problem is. Making you a statue with no power was just the perfect way to illustrate it. You’re a power-mad man, you know? OK – that’s an exaggeration, but it’s not too far from the truth.”

I stopped drinking. “What the hell do you mean?”

She held the straw up again, a warning look in her deep green eyes.

“Do two things – drink and watch your tone.”

I decided to comply. I thought I saw a hint of a smile on her face as she resumed speaking.

“You’re a pretty classic A-type personality. Ambitious, driven, successful. But most of all, you’re controlling. You want to have control over your situation, you expect others to defer to you, you assume a leadership role whenever you can. You enjoy being in the lead. Probably way up there in your high school and college class not just because you’re bright but because you pushed yourself to be there. Stop me when I’m saying something that’s not true.”

The OJ was gone, and I figured I could speak again.

“All right, but what the hell does that have to do with this Karyn?”

“Tone’s better, but could still improve.”

She sat in the chair and put the glass back on the table.

“It’s really simple, Stephen. Your relationship with Marie failed because you weren’t equal partners. You were in control, she did what you wanted, and maybe on rare occasions you did something she enjoyed because you knew it was the right thing to do. But when you did those things you didn’t invest in them, didn’t try to enjoy them, probably didn’t even go very far out of your way to make sure she enjoyed them. Again, stop me if I’m wrong.”

I stood silently, the thoughts of the last night replaying themselves in my head.

“So you see, it was inevitable that your relationship failed – you were the only one with a vote on anything. Marie just ‘hung around’ because she didn’t know what else to do and didn’t have the strength to assert herself.

“So your fit of anger that got you completely shit-faced last night wasn’t because you were really sorry the relationship ended. OK, maybe a bit. It was because you didn’t end it. And then she’d been allowed to find out that I was here and really end it. You had no control over what unfolded, no say in what happened in your life, and it drove you positively crazy angry.”

I stared at her as she delivered this like she was discussing a shopping list – matter-of-fact and without any hint of anger, sympathy, or much emotion at all. And that pissed me off, too.

“And how do you know all this in such a short period of time,” I asked.

She looked at me for a quiet moment, then got up and walked over to the couch where the pillow with the broken seam was.

“Do you always punch the accessories to the décor until they break? Do you always get so drunk that you border on needing medical attention? Do you always pick up an attractive woman on a plane and invite them to spend four weeks with you when you travel?”

It took me a moment to realize she was waiting for an answer.

“Well, no, but…”

“Stephen, I’ve was training to be an MD when I decided I preferred therapy. I’m specializing in power dynamics within relationships for a couple of reasons. First of all, it’s interesting.”

As she spoke she dropped the pillow and slowly walked to stand in front of me.

“Second of all, there’s thousands and thousands of men like you that end up having a mid-life crisis that makes small atom bomb tests look like a firecracker when you realize that there’s a large portion of your life that’s unfulfilled, and you’ve all got a good income. So it’s a growth market for me. And that’ll let me do things like help people like Marie learn how to assert themselves positively because she couldn’t afford the same rates.”

“Karyn, you’re talking a bit crazy…”

She smiled, and leaned in against me.

“Really? You’re many things right now, aren’t you? You’re pissed at me, number one, but with my body and my breast rubbing up against you right now I’ll bet you a thousand dollars that if I cut your willy free he’d stand at full attention.”

I started to open my mouth to protest, but she put her finger up against my lips, an impish smile on her face.

“Don’t object. We’ll let the evidence speak for itself. Hold still.”

She retrieved the scissors, and I was surprised that I was sorry she’d ended the contact. I struggled as she went to get the shears, barely resisting the urge to speak. She returned the two steps with them in her hand, and knelt in front of me. I forced myself to hold still.

“Karyn, I don’t…”

“Just be quiet, Stephen. The proof is in the pudding.”

She carefully opened a slit that went from the head of my penis up to the base between my legs. The metal of the scissors was cold on my skin, but that was quickly replaced by the warmth of her hand as she finagled it out of its imprisonment. Then she let go of it quickly and stood up.

“You see, I don’t even need to touch it right now, Stephen. I just need to walk around you,” which she promptly began to do, “speak in a soft, sultry tone of voice,” which she also did, “and let my hands run over other parts of your body. In this nightgown, with you helpless and in my power, with you wanting so badly to put your manhood to use on me…”

She returned to my front and leaned into me again, her breast brushing against my chest as the pressure of her body touching me increased.

“…it’s more than your libido can take. You’re enjoying being completely out of control and hoping I’ll let this go further.”

With that, she glanced down and smiled. I didn’t need to to know that I was fully erect and throbbing slightly. If she’d touched my penis, I may very well have moved on to exploding.

She looked back up at me with a smug grin.

“I’ll give you that I’m turned on, but I’m not going to admit anything other than a fantasy aspect is at work.”

She smiled.

“Really? I don’t think you’re being honest. You’ve been here for nine hours. You’ve had nothing but time to think, to stew, and to get angrier and angrier. I’ve worked with men in counseling who wouldn’t have been excited right now, they’d be furious.”

She broke contact with me again and went over to grab the other glass of orange juice. Then she sat down.

“You’re angry Stephen, there’s no doubt about that. But isn’t it a bit telling that you’ve barely struggled since we started talking? Even subconsciously? You’ve barely tried to move at all, in fact. The only time you’ve made any effort to break free is when I was about to expose your arousal to you – not to me mind you, to you.”

She stood up, put the straw in the glass after taking a sip and offered it to me. I decided I was still thirsty enough to drink about a gallon of it, and took it.

“And the moment that I did expose things, we went from struggling to acceptance.”

The glass was empty, so she lowered it and turned to put it on the end table. I decided to protest.

“I’ll give you a fantasy side of this, Karyn, but…”

Her finger was on my lips again.

“I’m not quite done. There’s an even more telling point, Stephen. You’ve not once called me crazy for doing this to you, threatened to call the police, or hinted much at raising your voice. In the nine hours you’ve been like this, you’ve done some uncomfortable thinking in a position that’s uncomfortable both physically and mentally for you. And yet you’ve pretty much accepted it without a significant protest. Just admit it Stephen – you’re a more than a bit of a control freak, the break up and the night you just spent convinced you of it, and you’re actually at least somewhat interested in finding out what it’s like not to be in control.”

I opened my mouth to reply at how nuts that was, then had to close it. In a strange way, this made a great deal of sense. I opened it to say something again, only to discover she’d grabbed the washcloth sometime I wasn’t playing close enough attention and it was making my way back into my mouth. I started to struggle a bit, but she grabbed my chin and looked me in the eye.

“Your therapy’s just beginning, Stephen, but right now, we both need some breakfast and you’ve a great deal to think about. So I’m going to leave you to think a bit more while I fix a bite to eat and when it’s ready, I’ll cut you free from that pole. Then we’ll discuss whether you want to live up to your end of our bet and do what I say for the next three weeks and four days. If not, I can be gone today.”

She grabbed a roll of plastic wrap from under the end table where I hadn’t been able to see it and began to put it to use. I was about to struggle madly, try to spit the gag out, and raise a ruckus until I recognized one something – I was more aroused than I think I’ve ever been. So I stood stock still and let her replace the wrapping around my face.

“See? You’re already starting to get it. And if I decide I like you as much as my gut impression is, eventually, we’ll do something about your poor, neglected manhood.”

I watched her red nightgown recede into the kitchen, and struggled against my bindings. Somehow, it felt different than just an hour ago, and not in a bad way.

I stood quietly, wrapped to my pole and thinking about our conversation as Karyn puttered around the kitchen. She wandered in and out from the kitchen to the dining area, setting places for the two of us, and I could hear the sounds of cooking going on. The smell of bacon was in the air, and I think I could smell some type of coffee cake.

But that was something I only noticed on the periphery when I got tired of thinking about my position, my reaction, and the thoughts Karyn had shared with me. The way I related to Marie, the way I’d approached her, my reaction to Marie’s voice mail – it all ran through my mind in a bit of a confusing blur. Was I really that much of a controlling jerk?

What really caught me by surprise, though, was what happened whenever I saw Karyn on her way out of the kitchen towards the table. While my erection faded slightly as I thought, whenever that dynamite long red nightgown appeared, it started springing back to life. I think she was purposefully drawing things out in setting the table – it would have been just as easy to bring the plates and silverware out all at once. And perhaps that was exactly her intent – to give me repeated viewings of my attractive captor and reinforce what she’d said. Whether it was her intent or not, it worked quite well.

So after what seemed like an hour, but the clock said was twenty-five minutes, the table was set and the smells of breakfast filled the room. Karyn wandered out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel, a broad smile across her face.

“Ready to have me arrested,” she asked as she drew near.

It would have surprised me to do this eight hours ago, but I shook my head without hesitating.

“Been thinking about our chat?”

I nodded. She smiled a bit more broadly in response.

“Well, breakfast is ready, so I need to do something about you. Am I eating and leaving?”

I paused just a moment, a bit of trepidation causing me to hesitate. Then I shook my head very deliberately.

“That’s great news for you, Stephen. I think you really will learn a great deal.”

She started to reach for the medical shears that she’d left on the table when she’d headed for the kitchen, but her hand stopped just before she touched them. She was staring at something when she did, and I followed the path of her eyes directly to my exposed penis. It was completely rigid once again. Her hand drew away from the shears.

“You know, rewards are far more effective than punishment, and you’ve come an enormous way in a very short period of time.”

She leaned up against me again, her breast brushing against me lightly. I felt my blood pressure rising once again.

“So I think perhaps I should reward you now, don’t you?”

I didn’t respond, not knowing what she meant. Then I felt the towel drape across my raging manhood. It was a kitchen towel, soft but not terry cloth so it was smooth. I felt her wrap it around my shaft.

“Just remember, continued rewards will require continued work and obedience – that’s our deal.”

Her hand moved up and down, accelerating slowly as she breathed on my neck and ear and her soft voice spoke. It didn’t take long until I exploded, a feeling of immense pleasure and relief washing over me. And deep inside, a voice was saying that I’d work quite hard and obey quite well…

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22.03.08