*** Warning ***

This post will throw open the doors to one of my more perverse sexual idiosyncrasies. Do Not Read if you do not want to know about what gets the Brat off!

Last night, I got together with “Tom” again. “Tom” is a blast, witty, playful, sexy as hell, a little on the twisted side, and he seems to enjoy watching me squirm. We’ve been flirting with the idea of introducing my favorite two items into our little get togethers. Pallet wrap and duct tape. I’m not sure where this little idiosyncrasy was introduced into my consciousness, but I’m thankful that it was.

Many years ago, I traveled to visit with a gentleman that wanted to mummify me in pallet wrap and duct tape. I was new to the whole bondage scene and eagerly seeking out new experiences. He was a gentle and considerate man and was very careful to make sure that I was OK , knowing this was my first experience and wanting me to enjoy it as much as he would. Upon arrival, I shucked my clothes and stood, legs slightly apart, wash cloth between my knees, watching the pallet wrap slowly encase my body. Higher and higher it climbed until reaching my neck, at which point he stopped and switched to a new roll of shiny silver duct tape. The process was repeated and I was soon completely covered, ankle to neck in a shiny silver cast. A leather hood was attached and I was delicately maneuvered into the corner where I stood with the corner supporting me so I would not fall. I heard the door loudly close, signifying that I was left alone in my new environment to get better acquainted. I could not move. I could not see. I could barely hear. The cocoon essentially shut off the outside world forcing me within myself. The sensation is one that I could not describe. The calm and peacefulness was a welcome embrace allowing me to focus on the physical and step outside of my cognitive thoughts for a brief moment (of about an hour).

After some time, the newness of it wore off and I became bored. I mean, really, how long can one stand in the corner without being bored? At this point in time, I started humming the theme song from Green Acres to keep myself entertained. I was beginning to understand the concept of “long-term bondage”. You can go pretty insane if you stay within your head with no outside stimuli for too long a time frame. I heard the door open and close again and instantly stopped my humming for fear that Green Acres would perhaps not be the best thing for the current “scene” we were engaged in.

I felt his hands on me, pulling me from the corner, and moving me towards the bed, where I was pushed backwards into a freefall onto the bed. I won’t get into what happened for the next half hour or so, but suffice it to say, Mummification, was now high on my list.

After he cut me out of the tape, we sat and talked and he shared something that was rather embarrassing, and since this is all about being honest, I’ll share it with you. While I was humming Green Acres, he was still in the room. He never left. He slammed the door to make me think that he left. He’d been sitting there in front of me, trying desperately NOT to laugh the entire time I’d been humming and tapping my feet. It was a first for him. I made a mental note to never repeat the Green Acres part of the experience.

Last night, I was looking forward to a similar experience, sans Green Acres, when I arrived at “Tom’s” place. Shucking my clothes, he followed the same steps as above, only this time, he wrapped it extremely tight. Too tight for me it turned out. After he pushed me back onto the bed, I started to panic. I couldn’t breath. I struggled to calm myself, and in the process only increased my panic. The more I tried to calm down, the more I couldn’t breath. “Focus on breathing” Tom said. I tried to and started to calm down until my hands began to go numb. That feeling of your skin being poked with a thousand pins and needles descended next, increasing my panic. I can’t breath, I can’t feel my arms. I wasn’t sure if I was more pissed that we just started and I wanted to be cut out, or more scared that I couldn’t breath.

“Tom” reluctantly began to cut me out. Though I was relieved that I could breath and feel my hands again, I was embarrassed that I panicked in the first place. This was something that I wanted! The shame spiral was on. That is, until he whispered in my ear “its OK.” and proceeded to go after every single one of my “spots” enticing me into that delicious dance he calls “squirming”