Posted by tina on January 15, 20014 at 20:43:10:
“Brianna’s Not Fair Bagging”
By Tina
On the bed I had lain a plastic dry cleaner’s bag, a package of Christian Dior support stockings and a black silk scarf. Brianna comes into the room looking gorgeous in white t-shirt, pink bra and matching panties.
She walks to the bed to look over the unusual assortment of items.
“I don’t wear support stockings,” she says, “but I do look forward to wearing the bag.”
She winks at me with a mischievous smile on her face.
“Are you ready to begin?” I asked as I pick up the scarf.
“Oh, I am always ready for you to bag me,” she purrs, “where do you want me?”
I tap the top of the dressing table chair, “Please sit here. I want you to be able to watch yourself suffocate.”
She sits in the chair, me standing behind and she says, “I still don’t think you can suffocate me with out me being tied up. With my hands free I can just rip the bag open. Can’t I?”
I do not answer her last question. I take the scarf and place it over her eyes. Her hands came up to touch the silky material as I tie the scarf around her head.
“This is different,” she says, her voice is filled with anticipation.
“Only temporary so my initial work is concealed from you.”
She looks up and to the right in the general direction she thinks I am standing. “Are you up to some trick?” she asks, “You promised that my hands will be free and you won’t touch me in any way. You swore!”
“Yes, my darling Brianna, that is our agreement,” I reply. I walk to the bed, pick up all my paraphernalia and bring everything back to the dressing table. I can see Brianna is trying to follow my movements by the way she cocks her head while listening intently. I open the package of stockings and begin to roll up one of the nylons. I then take hold of Brianna’s right hand. She feels the stocking being smoothed up her arm. Brianna’s face has a most puzzled look as I put the other stocking on her left arm. The stockings are long enough to come almost to her armpits. She appears to be wearing sheer opera length gloves.
“This is certainly odd,” she says at that point, “I’ve never worn nylons on my arms before.”
As I expected she does not yet comprehend. I remove the scarf. She blinks a little against the sudden light. Then she looks at her stocking covered arms. She runs her hands up her forearms.
“This is kind of sensual. I may have to wear my hose this way to the club.”
“There wont be any more clubs for you,” I whisper in her ear as I open the bag and slide it over her head.
I do not smooth the bag all the way down but leave quite a large air pocket around Brianna’s head. Using the scarf I close the bag shut around her neck. I tie a single knot in the scarf and pull it fairly snug to make sure I have a good seal. I roll the excess plastic up over the scarf, leaving the ends exposed and loose so I can loop them around her neck, and the bag, a second time. The plastic bag and scarf are now entwined around Brianna’s neck. The scarf has locked the plastic tight against her skin but I have not pulled it so tight as to strangle the poor girl. I tie several granny knots in the ends of the black scarf, pulling each as hard as I can to make sure the scarf is securely knotted. The bag is now collapsing a little as Brianna tries to breath and her effort to inhale creates a little vacuum in the bag.
I sit down on the bed to watch.
“Good luck my dear,” I say to her cheerfully.
The first thing she does is reach up to her face to take hold of the bag. I can see the sheer stocking material stretch out from the tips of her fingers to her thumb as she opens her hands. Her fingers slide over the plastic without gripping. I can sense the first signs of panic as she realizes she is not able to easily grasp the bag or anything else for that matter. The toe of the stocking acts like a mitten on her hands, only this mitten is without a thumb. The slick surface of the plastic also prevents her from getting any sort of grip on the plastic.
I can hear her breathing quicken now. I also can see her eyes are wider in her initial attack of panic. The bag blows out as she tries to keep the plastic away from her mouth, then just as quickly sucks back down as she gasps in an attempt to breath.
She now brings her hands together.
“That’s it, Brianna,” I call with encouragement, “remove the gloves first.”
She pulls first at her left hand then at her right. She is finally able to grasp the stocking on her right hand. I hear a little grunt of triumph as she pulls at the nylon. It stretches off the ends of her fingers but the stocking does not move at all on her arm. She cries out in frustration as she shakes her right arm in an attempt to get the stocking to budge. As she tugs the stocking constricts around her arm gripping more firmly the harder she tugs on the toe.
As she struggles with the nylons, I see the bag collapsing more and more as she tries to get a breath of air into her lungs.
Her hands come up to her face again in another effort to pull the plastic bag away. I can tell her terror has increased rapidly with each failed attempt to either free one of her hands or grip the bag so she can tear it away from her face.
She then tries to grip the stocking top on her left arm. She fails to get her fingers under the nylon. She does succeed in pushing it down slightly but that is hardly an improvement to her predicament.
She then turns slightly toward me as her hands slide over her face, her little nylon flippers opening and closing in a vain attempt to hold on to the transparent plastic. I watch her chest heave as she inhales for several seconds. This is why I left the bag loose so Brianna can suck the plastic deep into her mouth, filling it completely. I can see her tongue under the plastic, pink and full of saliva that wets the bag as the plastic vibrates madly in her mouth.
Her hands then go to the back of her neck and I see her paw frantically at the knotted scarf. Unfortunately for Brianna the nylon stretching between her fingers and thumb again prevents her from properly grasping the scarf. The soft nylon also masks the feel of the scarf so she is unable to tell for certain where the knot is tied. At one point her fingers do grasp the knot and I watch with growing amusement as she tugs at it.
Brianna is panting now. I hear faint sobbing sounds and I think she tries to say “Not fair” at one point. Her panic now completely over takes her. She stands up; her whole body shakes and her arms whip around with an effort to either throw off the plastic hood or the devilish stockings. She leans in toward the mirror peering intently at her reflection. Her hands again come up to explore her face and head. I know she can see herself as a hazy form in the mirror but the bag is too fogged from her own stale breath to allow her to see clearly.
I find it all too delicious.
Finally she slumps back into the chair and turns toward me. I come and kneel at her knee. She reaches out to me. I can see the bag is now sucked deep into her mouth. She is no longer able to blow it back out. Her cheeks are streaked with black mascara stained tears. Her chest shutters occasionally. Her hands quiver. I know she is asking me to remove the stockings or take away the hideous bag. She has surrendered. Instead I slide my hands under her shirt. Her nipples are hard under the soft material of her bra. I do not know why asphyxiation is such a turn on for Brianna. I also can not explain why I have lost interest in her. I can no more explain one as the other.
I move one hand into her panties. She moans. Her nylon palms grasp my head. Her own face looks heavenward as I begin to stimulate her. She must know by now I do not plan to remove the bag. She gives her body over to me in the final seconds. Even though she is exhausted from her earlier struggle I feel her tense slightly. I can feel her final orgasm ripple gently within her. The nylon mittens slowly fall away to her sides. Her ankles turn out as the muscles in her legs relax in death.
I look at my creation and think, “Oh, Brianna, how beautiful you are.”