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Saran Wrap

Author: Susan Strict

Filed in: dominance, mummification, cock and ball torture, femdom, photography, cbt, face-sitting

(This particular story is part of a collection of short stories by Susan Strict "Strictly Susan - The Fifth Collection" published (non-exclusively) by A1 Adult eBooks. Used with permission from the Author. Please visit her website: Strictly Susan.)

“Come on,” said Paula. “It would be a bit of fun. I won’t let anyone see your face, I promise. We will check and edit the film very carefully. No one could possibly recognise you.”

“Do you do this sort of thing often?” he asked. “I would never have thought that you of all people...”

She nodded. “Of course. I told you I was a filmmaker now. There is a big market for some of the kinkier stuff, and you don’t need a million-dollar budget to make it. I’ve been doing this since not long after we split up, and I’m thoroughly enjoying it.”

“Obviously,” he agreed. “But the amount of money you offered me wasn’t exactly a fortune, was it?”

She smiled. “I have to make a living,” she told him. “It takes a long time for any money to come back after we start marketing a film of this sort, and right now I’m short of cash.”

“Well, I’m really not sure,” he said uncertainly. “It all sounds a bit odd.”

“Of course it’s odd. That’s why people are prepared to pay for it. It’s a niche market, with a few hundred thousand people world-wide who want films of this particular type at a reasonable price, and virtually no one making them.”

“Seriously? That many people?” He was surprised.

She assured him that it was true, but he was still having trouble believing it. Somehow, for him, it was difficult to understand why anyone would want to pay money to see a film of a dominant woman doing nothing more than wrapping a naked man in saran wrap.

“Look,” she said finally, ”I’ll let you see the final film before it goes anywhere, and if you don’t like it then we’ll do it again. Is it a deal?”

He agreed, reluctantly. He too needed the money, and from what she had told him this was going to be the easiest cash he had ever earned.

“All right,” he said. “When do we start?”

“How about right now? Rita is outside, and I have everything we need right here.”

Rita was not at all what he had expected. Somehow he had expected someone tall, powerful-looking, wearing tight leather and boots with spiked heels. Rita was quite the opposite, rather short, slightly on the heavy side, and dressed in a flowery top and a long, loose skirt. Paula was more of the dominatrix type than Rita appeared to be. He could imagine Paula ordering some poor man about like a slave, making him grovel on the floor while she wielded a whip.

Paula led the way into her studio. The room was almost empty, except for lights on stands on two sides of the room and a narrow padded bench standing on its own in the very centre.

“Right,” said Paula. “You take your clothes off, all of them, and then we can start.”

“Er...” he hesitated, partly because he was a little reluctant to remove his clothes in front of a woman he did not know who was not even particularly attractive, and partly because he had no idea what he was expected to do.

“Come on,” Paula encouraged him. “We don’t have all day. I need to get on with this.”

“But... what do I do? Isn’t there a script or something? I’ve never done any acting.”

Paula and Rita both laughed. “You just take your clothes off and Rita will take care of everything else,” Paula told him. “It won’t be difficult, I promise you. Do you want Rita to help you undress?”

“I can manage,” he said, pushing away Rita’s eager hands.

Paula was busy preparing her camera while he took off his clothes. He dropped them in the corner and stood silently with his hands in front of him self-consciously.

“Ready?” asked Paula.

He nodded.

“Go and lie on the bench and then we’ll start,” she told him. “We’ll go straight into it. I don’t need anything to confuse the issue with this one. We’re aiming purely at the saran wrap fetish nothing else, so there’s no need for any other messing about.”

Rita was already holding the roll of saran warp, eager to start. He walked over to the bench and lay down on it, his hands still in front of him.

“Hands by your sides,” instructed Paula.

Reluctantly he obeyed. Paula stamped her foot in annoyance.

“That’s no good at all,” she said. “You need to look excited. Rita, get over there and do something.”

Rita stood next to the bench and bent over him. He stared up at her, almost fearfully.

“I don’t think it’s working,” Rita announced. “He’s not responding at all.”

“For goodness sake,” Paula complained, “Can’t you get it up? You never used to have a problem. What’s the matter with you?”

“Sorry,” he said vaguely. “Rita is very nice and all that, but she’s not...” he hesitated, trying to put it tactfully, “She doesn’t excite me.”

“Getting fussy in your old age?” asked Paula. “Never mind,” she continued without waiting for an answer. “We’ll worry about that later. Rita, if you start wrapping him and I’ll look after the camera angles.”

Rita did as she was told, starting with his ankles and winding the roll of saran wrap round and round, under the bench and over the top of his legs binding him tightly with it. She continued up his legs, leaving a gap over his groin and then starting over his stomach and his chest. His arms remained at his sides, and very soon he was unable to move at all. Rita continued, wrapping layer after layer of the strong, stretchy material up and down his body.

“It’s awfully tight,” he complained.

“That’s the idea,” Paula told him. “It’s supposed to be exciting, and it makes you completely helpless.”

“Finished,” said Rita. “What next?”

“Let me go if you’ve finished,” he suggested.

Paula laughed. “You really are completely helpless, aren’t you? We could do anything we like to you.”

“Very funny,” he said. “Just let me go.”

Paul put the camera onto a stand and walked towards him. She stood next to the bench and looked down at him.

“Ah,” she said. “I see that you still find me exciting.”

“Well of course I do,” he admitted. “You’re a very attractive woman.”

Paula reached down and touched the end of his hardness with one finger. “Is that nice?” she asked innocently.

“Come on,” he said, “Just let me go. We finished doing that sort of stuff years ago, didn’t we?”

“We certainly did,” she agreed. “I’m not going to make love to you, wrapped up or otherwise. I just wondered whether you had actually considered how risky it was to put yourself in this position? I mean, completely naked and helpless at the mercy of your ex-girlfriend who undoubtedly is still furious with you for leaving her?”

“That was years ago,” he said, suddenly worried. “We’ve been great friends since then. You can’t still be annoyed with me.”

“Maybe I am,” she said thoughtfully, “And maybe I’m not. It doesn’t really matter. It would make a great theme for a film, and it seems such a pity to waste the opportunity.”

“Hey!” he shouted. “I didn’t agree to anything like that. I only agreed to be wrapped up for your film, not anything else.”

She shrugged. “You don’t really have a choice. As I said, we can do anything we like to you, and I think that while we have you like this we might well take the opportunity to make few more short films that might appeal to some niche markets.”

He tried to struggle to free himself, but the saran wrap held him securely. It was impossible for him to move at all.

“I think,” went on Paula, “That we might start with some facesitting. Rita likes that. It’s one of her favourites, isn’t it Rita?”

Rita nodded happily. Without waiting for any further instruction she pulled up her skirt, swung one leg over him and stood astride him.

“No!” he squealed as she descended towards his face.

Rita took no notice. Paula ran to the camera, taking it from the stand and hurrying back for some close-ups.

Rita wore nothing under the skirt. As she touched his face she let the skirt fall around him, shutting him into a private, damp fleshy world between her legs and underneath her.

“I can’t see,” complained Paula. “I can’t film anything.”

“Just let the camera run,” grunted Rita. “There will be more than enough to see.”

As she settled down onto him he felt as though he would be crushed. Her thick thighs squeezed around his head, pressing together like firm pillows with a life of their own and a determination to swallow him up into them.

He tried to move his head, but it was impossible. Her thighs had a vice-like grip on him, and now she moved forward to press his face exactly where she wanted it. Her flesh invaded his mouth and nostrils, blocking his breathing.

“Lick,” commanded Rita.

He pressed his tongue into her, hoping she would relax enough for him to be able to breathe at least a little. Seconds passed and she did not move.

He tried to tell her that she was suffocating him, that he was rapidly going to lose consciousness underneath her. His words did not reach her, muffled and silenced below and into her.

His chest ached with the need for air, and his thoughts were becoming disjointed when finally she moved her position a little. There was a popping noise in his ears as her damp, sticky flesh released its grip on him, and he gasped at the fresh air that flooded onto him.

Still she did not release him fully. She remained pressed over his mouth and partially over his nose. Breathing was difficult, a real struggle to suck the air from the tiny gaps between her flesh and his face, but at least he could now breathe.

“Lick me properly,” she ordered. “Make the effort, or I’ll smother you again.”

“You are smothering me,” he muttered.

She must have heard him, although the sound was still muffled into her. She laughed wildly.

“Silly boy,” she said. “This isn’t smothering, this is smothering.”

As Rita spoke she lifted herself a little, moved forward and came down onto him with some force. She covered his face completely under her. As bad as it had been before, this was far worse. He felt as though his whole head had been taken into her, and that now her flesh was not only on top of him but on all sides and was sucking at him to absorb him totally into it.

Rita remained completely motionless for nearly a minute. Coming so shortly after being deprived of air just a few moments ago, it was more than he could take. He lost consciousness.

He had no idea how long he was out. When he regained consciousness he was still in total darkness and her weight was still on him, although not cutting off his breathing. He felt an acute pain in his groin.

“What’s going on?” he muttered.

“Oh good,” it was Paula’s voice. “I hoped you’d be back with us soon.”

“Let me go,” he moaned.

“Don’t be silly,” said Paula sharply. “We’ve only just started. Rita is going to stay right where she is, and I’m going to film a little CBT.”

“What’s CBT?” He thought he already knew.

“Cock and ball torture, of course. I could enjoy this. A bit of pain down there will be really good for you, and you thoroughly deserve it after the way you treated me,” she told him.

“But that was years ago,” he protested, “And you weren’t exactly an angel yourself.”

“Really?” she laughed. “Do you think this is quite the right time to be telling me it was all my fault? I don’t think you want to make me angry, now do you?”

He felt the pain in his groin intensify.

“Aagh. What are you doing?”

“A little device I invented,” she told him. “I’ve tightened it round your cock and balls so it can’t come off, and I’m just turning up the power a bit. As you can probably feel, it has lots of little rotating brushes, and the higher I turn the remote control, the faster they go. Good, isn’t it?”

“Take it off!” he squealed as she turned the controls higher.

“Don’t make too much noise,” she warned, “Or Rita will have to muffle it again. I can’t stand screaming men. Don’t worry. I’ll take it off before you start to bleed too much. I should think that will be in an hour or so if I don’t turn the power up too high.”

As the pain quickly became worse, he could no longer keep quiet. He yelled. Immediately Rita slid forward, covering his face completely under her. He noise was silenced, and once again he was unable to breathe.

She kept where she was for about half a minute, and then slowly lifted herself. He yelled again, and she descended onto him.

“Oh dear,” said Paula. “It looks as though he’s a slow learner. Never mind. We have all afternoon and evening if we need it. I ought to make the most of this. It’s not often we have such a suitable victim for the filming. I wonder what other niche markets we could explore while we’re here?”

She turned up the remote control a little more, checking through the viewfinder of her camera that she was getting a nice clear picture...

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