Archive-name: Bondage/blankwar.txt
Archive-author: Joe Mattis
Archive-title: Blanket Wars, The


> Ob-bondage:  I imagined that I'd write a little bondage vignette to go here,
> possibly called "The Blanket Wars", or perhaps "Fun Things to Do with a
> Bedsheet", but the damn thing had a life of its own and grew to about 14000
> words...geez...so I'll make a separate post of it.

Comments are welcome.  Thanks!

******************

After playing tennis and frisbee for most of the afternoon, and cooking up a
tasty stir-fry (enjoyed over a bottle of white zinfandel) for dinner, Jim
and Janet decided to call it an early evening and went to sleep, having
allowed their feelings of horniness to be displaced temporarily by feelings
of fatigue.  Overnight, the temperature dropped from warm-and-pleasant to
goose-pimple-cold, an occurrence for which they were ill-prepared, having
left the bedroom windows open, with a single sheet covering the two of them.
In their respective dreams, their king-sized bed became a stretch of frozen
tundra, complete with arctic winds cutting across the expanse.

What began as an overly-affectionate huddling together for warmth
degenerated, as the cold slowly pulled them awake, into a nasty little
tug-of-war, with the prize being a larger-than-fair portion of the
cotton/polyester sheet.  Having always been better at such games, Janet
curled herself into a fetal position, clutched a double-handful of sheet to
her chest, and gave a little, twisting *tug*.  Pretty as you please, the
last yard of sheet jumped away from Jim and settled neatly on Janet, leaving
Jim's butt exposed to the elements.  His eyes flew open just as a breeze
blew up his backside.  "Hey!  I'm freezing!  Gimme some back."

Janet purred a contented, sleepy little dismissal, "Jim, if you're cold,
just get up and take a blanket out of the closet."  Jim was ready to hoist
himself out of bed when he realized that he'd just been snookered (and not
for the first time!) into getting a blanket while Janet stayed in bed.  His
darling wife had suddenly been transformed, in his eyes, into an Evil
Manipulator, and he decided to stand up for All Men, everywhere.

"If you want a blanket, Janet, *you* get it.  Now give me some sheet!", and
he proceeded to haul at the blanket like he was pulling in the main sail.

With more than half-serious indignation, Janet growled "You jerk!  Pick on
someone your own size!" and she did that little clutching move again, which
rolled Jim over and recovered half of what he'd hauled away from her.

"Can't...there's no one else here." smirked Jim, and he pressed his (now
frozen) toes up against her warm, heart-shaped bottom.  She squeaked out a
surprised little "Yelp!" and jumped away from him, letting go of the sheet.

"Aha!!"  Jim grabbed the edge of the sheet and rolled back towards his side
of the bed.  "Loser!" he cried and, gripping the sheet tightly, he rolled
over and away from Janet, spooling the entire sheet around himself.  "*You*
can get the blanket for a change, chump!"  He rolled clear to the other side
of the bed, and was quite pleased with himself, since he didn't get to
outsmart his wife very often.

He had about half-a-heartbeat to gloat, and then Janet jumped on top of him,
and glowered down at him with a frighteningly predatory look.  "You know,
Jim, I'll never understand how such a smart man can consistently get himself
into such *dumb* predicaments!"  He tried boosting himself up with his arms
(all those workouts came in handy when he was wrestling with Janet who,
although no pushover, was never able to beat him in a fair fight)...and he
collapsed backwards!  Quickly, he realized that he'd mummified himself
inside the sheet.  He thought hurriedly....king-sized sheet...must be eight
or nine layers of cloth...his hands stuck by his hips, tangled up more than
the rest of him...Janet sitting on his stomach with her knees on either side
of his chest, using those cyclist's legs of hers to squeeze his arms against
his sides.  Oh, I'm meat, he thought, I'm hamburger fucking helper.

Janet was smiling down at him evilly.  "You've got such an *endearing* look
on your face, honey!"  And then her expression changed to one of
mock-concern:  "Have you got enough of the sheet now, Jimmy?"

"Okay, heh, yeah, Janet...you got me, yep, that was pretty good...I'll go
get the blanket..."

"Oh, baby, what's the hurry, you're not still cold are you?  *I'm* the one
who should be cold!" and reaching her arms behind her, she stretched her
naked torso backwards and turned from side to side, the silhouette of her
nipples sharply visible against the light from the bedroom window.  He
became acutely aware that he had a hard on, and he squirmed as it strained,
like the rest of him, against the sheet.  Janet brought her hands back down
and ran them smoothly over her breasts.  With a sudden surge of frustrated
horniness, Jim bucked frantically and nearly threw his wife off of him.

Looking furious that Jim had the audacity to try taking advantage of her
posing for him, she shifted her legs lower down Jim's body and fell forward
onto him, hard, knocking the air out of him, and assumed a decidedly
female-superior position.  Now, it was Janet's turn to look surprised, as
she felt Jim's erection pressing against her.  For a second, Jim thought
that she might let him loose so they could go at it...but Janet's expression
shifted again, and became particularly merciless.  "Poor baby!" she cooed,
"there's something you want really bad, isn't there?" Wrapping her arms and
legs tightly around Jim, she brought her face close and started giving him
soft kisses on his cheeks, his temples, his forehead.  A small moan of
pleasure came from him, and he closed his eyes.  She kissed his eyelids, and
brought her mouth down to meet his.  His tongue reached for her, and with no
teasing Janet kissed him long and deeply.

"Oh, honey, I want you...please let me go."

She gazed at him tenderly, and said "I want you too, really bad, but some
things are worth waiting for.  Besides, I *know* you...you'll enjoy it more
if I tease you senseless first."

"But you've already teased me senseless!" and, at this new development, he
started struggling in earnest.  But poised as she was, he could barely get
enough leverage to rock her back and forth...rolling her away was utterly
impossible.  He strained fruitlessly for long seconds, and fell back
exhausted.

"You call *this* teasing?" she chided, her face inches from his.  "Darling,
I haven't even *started* teasing you!" and she placed her hands on both
sides of his face, keeping his head immobile.  She brushed several feathery
kisses against his lips and, as he strained for more, she unceremoniously
licked his nose.

"*Bleck*!!  Why, you bitch!!  Gaaa!!!! I hate that!"

"Oh, so I'm a bitch?  Well, what else am I supposed to do to you?" she asked
innocently, while she wiped the saliva off his nose.

"I don't care...anything but that!  That felt horrid!"

"But, Jim, I can only torture your face...the rest of you has gone
undercover."  She paused, smiling at her pun. "Except...except for...hmm..."
Like a dervish, she jumped back and landed her bum on his stomach, then
bounced off him and rolled him over another half turn, so he was face down,
whereupon she grabbed onto the sheets wrapped around his ankles and pulled
herself around.  His first reaction (after "oof!") was that she was going to
try smacking his bottom, and he tried getting his hands back to ward off the
blows.  A split second later, Janet was coming back down on top of him,
making a "Hiiee-yA!" noise very much like Miss Piggy.  He flattened himself
so that the mattress would absorb the blow, but to his surprise Janet merely
settled gently on top of him.  "You're learning, boy!  What is it they say
about old dogs and new tricks?"

He was now face down, with his arms behind his back, hands pinned against
his own butt, thanks to his thrashing around.  His wife was lying face down
on him, with her thighs again clamped around his chest.  Her arms were
hugging his legs tightly, while her right hand fumbled at the cloth by his
ankles.  Suddenly, he felt cold air, as Janet peeled back enough of the
sheets that his right foot was free.  He tried to kick, but his knees were
still wrapped tightly together.  Besides, what little maneuvering room his
ankles had disappeared when Janet wound the excess sheet around his shins.
His left foot was still bound in cloth, but his right foot was totally
exposed.

"So, is this the naughty foot that stuck it's cold toes up my butt, hmmm?"

Jim started to babble, "No no it was the other one I swear it wasn't that
one no..."

"I don't know, Jim, these toes feel *awfully* cold." she said, as she ran
the tip of her index finger along the base of Jim's toes.  "So were *you*
the coldest toe?  Or was it *you*?" she asked, punctuating each query with a
little squeeze of each toe.

"(*giggle*) It wasn't any of them! (*snort*)  Oh, God, please..."  The
gentle, almost loving touches underneath his toes made his foot twitch
spasmodically, and Jim became frantic at the prospect that Janet was going
to tickle him into hysteria.  He didn't plead yet, though...he clung
desperately to the ludicrous hope that, if he didn't beg her not to tickle
him, then Janet wouldn't think of doing it.

"Oh, so I'm going to have to conduct an Inquisition, is that it?  Well,
since you like picking on people smaller than you," she said snidely, "I'll
start with the littlest toe first...have you done anything that deserves
punishment, hmmm?"  And she started running her fingertips very lightly down
the toe, along the outside edge of the foot, and then back up again.

Jim's initial, stifled laughs gave way to a steady stream of giggles, like
water falling.  "No honest I-swear-to-god I haven't!" he gasped.

"You know, you've got a beautiful giggle, Jim, even if that wonderful
baritone voice of yours sounds more like a schoolgirl's now!  It's too bad I
don't hear you giggle more often.  So, how about Toe Number 2?  Do *you*
have any confessions to make?"  She started tracing her maddening fingertips
in a straight line along the second toe, up and down across the sole of
Jim's foot.  That tickled *much* worse than the edge of his foot did, and
Jim dropped all pretense of not begging.

"Please Janet plee-hee-hee-heeze (*gasp*), don't tickle me-he-hee-HA! HA! oh
God (*giggle*) like this it's-sss-it's(*sputter*) HA HA not fair hah HAH!!"

"Oh, and I suppose that what you did to me last week on the couch was fair,
right?  Remember, you brute?  When we were smootching, and you started
kissing my neck, and when I laughed, you pinned my arms over my head and
started nuzzling me under my arms until I nearly wet myself?  Do you
remember that, hmmm?"  She shifted over to the third toe, so that her
fingertips were sliding up and down the very center of his foot, taking
little digressions to follow the curves along the arch and heel.

Jim was out-and-out laughing now, and gasping for breath.  He'd always been
a tickle fiend, but that was when *he* was doing the tickling.  The only
time he'd gotten it back badly was when he was was 12 and staying with
relatives before a wedding.  His cousin Karen (how old was she then? 15?
16?) caught him peeking when she was trying on her bridesmaid's outfit.  He
ran, but she caught him in about three strides and pinned him down, and
while she said "I'll bet you thought that was funny, huh?" over and over,
she proceeded to slowly and methodically tickle him half to death.  He
didn't even remember her stopping...just him catching his breath afterwards.
That was 20 years ago, and he wasn't sure if he could stand it if it happened
again.  He managed to blurt out "Yes-I-did-it-I-did-it-I'm-sorry-oh-God" in
one breath.

"Finally, a confession!  Very well!" she said as she stopped her tickling,
and she drew herself up haughtily.  "It's the judgement of this court that,
given your offense, the punishment should fit the crime.  You are hereby
sentenced to the poetic justice of being tickled on the bottom of your right
foot until you go completely insane, said sentence to be carried out
immediately.  Does the condemned care to make a final statement?"  Red
faced, sweating, and panting, Jim gasped in a breath and started to open his
mouth when Janet chirped "Time's up!" and began very lightly and rapidly
dragging the fingertips of both hands over the sole of Jim's foot.  She
alternated left and right hands, using all of her fingers and touching very
lightly, scraping as gently and as rapidly as she could.

If Jim thought that he'd ever been tickled before, he was wrong.  His voice
jumped from hyperactive giggles to full-bodied guffaws and back again as his
tortured nerves tried desperately to reach some sort of equilibrium, but
Janet was a cruel, relentless, and very talented tickler, and she altered
her touch just enough to keep Jim from adapting to the torment.  He felt
electric currents searing across his feet, racing up the backs of his legs
to his groin, and shooting out along his spinal cord.  He howled...he
shrieked...he positively *screamed* with forced laughter, while his body
thrashed like a wild animal.  "Kootchie, kootchie!" tormented Janet.
"Tickle toes!" and she dug into the sensitive skin under Jim's toes.  "Tickle
here!  Tickle there!" she teased, as she frantically scratched at one
sensitive spot, then another.  "Tickle tickle tickle!!" she teased,
ruthlessly, while Jim prayed to God, to any god, to whatever god feels sorry
for people being tickled beyond human endurance, that she'd stop.

Then Jim's sense of time disappeared...he was in the Hell of Eternal Tickling.

"Jim!! JIM!!! Are you okay???"  He realized that his wife was shouting at his
face while he was still being tickled senseless...no wait, he was still
laughing, but he could see her hands and neither one was tickling him.
Janet was staring straight at him, and looked scared witless.  He started to
get a grip on himself, but he realized that he could still *feel* it, and he
collapsed laughing once more.

"I'm okay...oh God...HA!!!"

The look of concern partially drained away from Janet's face.  "Um...I was
actually going to commute your sentence to 10 minutes of eating me, but when
I stopped you just kept on *laughing*."  Her eyes got wide again, and she
tried loosening the sheet from around her husband.  "Are you *sure* you're
alright?"

Jim tried to sit up and blurted out, "Ten minutes of head? How can I give
you head (*gasp*) when I can't even breathe??" and he collapsed backwards
roaring with laughter, like this was the funniest joke in the world.

"Jesus...let me get you out of this...sit up."  The windings had loosened a
bit, and with a struggle (in no way helped by her husband's continuing
hysteria), she finally worked Jim's arms free and peeled the sweat-soaked
sheet away from his chest.  "I've got to close the windows...you'll catch
pneumonia."  While she closed them, Jim had flopped back onto the bed, and
she returned to the task of freeing him, trying to tug the sheet past his
hips.

"Ow!  Watch it!"  Jim opened his eyes wide, and looked coherent for the
first time.  He scooted around on the bed, and wiggled his hips while he
carefully worked the sheets past an...um...obstruction.

"Oh my!" gasped Janet, eyes riveted at his crotch, "Maybe you won't have to
give me head after all!"

He glanced down.  "Geez...I guess not."  He looked at Janet, hungrily, and
grinned.  "But this time," he paused while he backed his wife back down onto
the bed and lowered himself on top of her, "*I* get to be on top."

-Joe Mattis    ARPA:  jam@isl1.ri.cmu.edu
	       Copyright (c) 1991 by Joe Mattis.  All rights reserved.
--