Shelacta Tales Ch. 16

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Student bathroom trap.
2.4k words
4.54
17.5k
4

Part 16 of the 17 part series

Updated 06/10/2023
Created 04/21/2004
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oggbashan
oggbashan
1,518 Followers

16 Pantyhose

Copyright Oggbashan December 2013/November 2014

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

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Pantyhose

I shouldn't have accepted her invitation to use her flat's bathroom while mine was being fixed. We are both final year university students living in a block of student accommodation. But the building was nearly forty years old and hadn't been maintained properly until this year. Gradually the whole building was being rewired, re-plumbed, and renovated. We students generally had the option of moving out to very temporary accommodation in residential caravans in the grounds, or swapping flats while the work was done.

The workers hit a problem when some of the old plumbing failed. There wasn't enough spare accommodation for everyone. Monica and I had agreed to share our bathrooms for a week or so. Her bathroom was completed first and she had used mine. It hadn't been difficult. She and I had worked out a timetable.

It would have been impossible except that the toilets were originally separate from the bathroom and had a small washbasin. I could wash and shave in that. All we needed was the bath and shower. I got up slightly earlier than normal and was out of the bathroom before Monica needed it. She slipped into my flat wrapped in a bathrobe, and left fully dressed. During the whole week I saw her in that bathrobe about three times. We were too busy with our final examinations to take much notice of each other.

I should have remembered the University's rules about female students trapping male students. It was forbidden during the three years of the basic degree. Postgraduate students were allowed to do what they liked, and once the final examination of the finals was completed, although we remained students for the last week or so, we were considered post-graduate.

Monica and I had been neighbours, friends and students on the same course for nearly three years. Our relationship hadn't progressed beyond friendship and being occasional partners at events. I liked her. She liked me. We had been closer to each other than almost everyone else despite having temporary love affairs with others.

Whenever the current boyfriend/girlfriend relationship ended, Monica and I were there for each other. We offered a sympathetic ear, supplies of coffee, and, if needed, a shoulder to cry on. It was usually Monica crying on my shoulder, but once or twice I had needed her shoulder. She would offer her shoulder freely, hugging me to her soft breasts.

Monica's scent attracted me. I assumed that she had a weak scent trap because the attraction wasn't overwhelming. I was wrong. Monica had been very careful to abide by the rules. She showered at least twice daily, always after sport or exercise, and wore a perfume to nullify her scent trap whenever she might be close to male students.

I was wrong about the strength of her trap. I was also wrong about Monica's intentions for me. She wanted me as her sex slave, and not just as her sex slave, but as her husband. I should have known better. We had just finished our final examinations yesterday and male students were off limits to women's sexual traps until then. I should have been on my guard, but I had known Monica as a friend for three years. I liked her but had forgotten that she would be a threat once the finals were over.

The work on my bathroom started on the Monday morning, after I had showered. That evening I knocked on Monica's door at the agreed time. I was carrying my towel and wearing a well-wrapped bathrobe with nothing underneath. She let me in and showed me where her bathroom was. It was sparklingly new. The partition between the bathroom and toilet had been removed and the room seemed much larger than the two had been.

There was one difference. Suspended from the ceiling in her bathroom was a drying rack. I would have to slide through the washing hanging from it to get to the bath. Why? If the rack had been pulled up to the ceiling I should have been able to walk under the washing.

Pantyhose brushed against my face. I hadn't noticed but everything hanging from the rack was pantyhose. I stopped dead. There was a strong perfume from the nylon and it overwhelmed my senses. It was the familiar scent of Monica but much, much stronger. My face was pressed against it as her scent trap caught me. The towel fell from my useless hands.

I barely noticed Monica coming behind me. Her hands reached up to pull the pantyhose from the rack. She pulled the crotch area across my nose and mouth before wrapping the legs round and round my head. She knotted it in place as I stood there transfixed, drowning in her scent.

She untied my bathrobe and let it fall to the floor. She took the other pantyhose off the rack. One pair she wound around my chest and tied my elbows. The next went at my waist to secure my wrists. She gently guided me from the bathroom to her bedroom, pushed me on the bed and swung my legs up. She tied my legs at the ankles and above my knees. I was a helpless pantyhose tied parcel.

"You're mine, James," Monica said quietly. "All mine. There is no way you can resist my scent trap when it is combined with my sweat. I've been saving my used pantyhose for today and you walked straight into them."

I couldn't answer. My brain was telling me that my face was deep between her legs, pressed hard against her pussy. I felt her legs clamp around my head, her hands pulling me closer. Yet through the nylon over my face I could see Monica standing beside the bed looking down at me.

I hadn't noticed when I walked in that Monica was wearing her bathrobe. She shrugged her shoulders out of it and let it slide. I could see her erect nipples standing proud. Her trap had worked and I was her slave. My erection was harder than I had ever known, insistent.

Although I could see Monica's wonderful body, my sensation was still that my face was buried between her legs. Even when she straddled me and slid my erection inside her I still believed her pussy was swallowing my face. Gradually I became aware that Monica was engulfing me. My head was sinking deeper into her. Her breasts were spreading over my chest. My body was wholly wrapped by Monica and sliding inside her.

I came, shatteringly, into her. As I did, I knew I was Monica's slave for life. She, and her pantyhose, had claimed me.

One usual effect of a sexual trap is almost instant recovery from a climax and a succession of climaxes until the victim is exhausted. My body thrust up against Monica again and again until she took pity on me and lifted herself off.

She untied the pantyhose from my head but I was still helplessly bound on her bed. She walked across to her wardrobe and reached to the top shelf. She came back with a mass of dark black nylon in her hands.

"James, I'm keeping you here for a while," Monica said as she lifted my feet from the bed.

I was too exhausted to resist as she pulled the nylon up my legs and rolled me from side to side to ease it up my body to my neck. I looked down. It seemed impossible but all of me was inside a single opaque black stocking.

Monica laughed at my expression.

"It's a giant stocking, intended as a joke. But it's no joke for you. I crawled inside it while in my bed for three nights and it's strongly scented by me. I don't think I need to, but to make sure you are totally enslaved, it's going to encase all of you."

She lifted my head and shoulders. She yanked the stocking upwards. My head was covered. I tilted my head back looking at the light through the end of the stocking as the top began to close as Monica twisted it.

I was sealed into blackness. I felt Monica knot the stocking above my head, and secure it to the rail at the bed head. Even if my hands and arms hadn't been tied to my body I would have found it almost impossible to untie that stocking from the inside.

My erection returned as I realised that Monica had made me completely helpless inside her nylon stocking and pantyhose. I juddered into orgasm time and time again, barely aware of Monica's hands gently stroking me through my encasement.

As I slumped yet again, Monica untied the top of the stocking. She rested my head against her breasts, holding it close to her cleavage. I knew I was Monica's. Her scent trap had overwhelmed me, even without the bonds and the stocking covering my body.

Monica looked down at me.

"Are you going to be a willing slave, James? I want you for my husband, my partner, but enslaved by me. Are you willing to be all that?"

If I had had a free choice, Monica would have been at the top of my list of potential mistresses. She had always treated me with care and consideration.

I tried to speak. I couldn't. Monica's scent was too strong. I nodded weakly.

"Was that a yes?" Monica asked. "You must speak."

Her instruction overrode my helplessness.

"Yes, Monica. It was, and is, a yes."

Monica pulled my head into her cleavage, holding it there while she pressed her breasts together. Her scent was very strong. My tired body started to convulse into another orgasm. She gently eased my head out of her cleavage before starting to remove the stocking and the pantyhose imprisoning me.

She stood up, clutching the heap of nylon.

"I'm going to put all this in the washing machine. They have served their purpose, this time. I'll take a shower while you recover."

Monica left the room. My eyes closed as the sensation of arousal gradually subsided. I was too exhausted to move and dozed.

When Monica returned, she was fully dressed.

"Up you get James," she ordered. "Go for your shower. I've brought your clean clothes through from your flat. You're having breakfast with me."

She had to help me off the bed and support me to the bathroom. I managed to stand up and shower, but I still needed Monica's help to get dressed. She sat me down on the only chair in her kitchen. She perched on a stool.

As we ate breakfast I began to feel more like my normal self except for a sense of exhilaration. Monica had caught and claimed me and I liked the idea. She had been a friend, a companion and a confidante. Now she was my mistress and my lover. I was hers. I preferred being Monica's to being the slave of any other woman I didn't know or like as much.

The experience of being trapped by Monica had been shattering but wonderful. The knowledge that she could trap me every day from now on, and I would enjoy mind-blowing orgasms each time, was worth savouring. If I had left the building, I would have been at risk from almost any woman of our year. Monica had not only trapped me, she had protected her friend.

"James," Monica said as we drank coffee, "there is one thing I want to do. I want to give you milk. You know what that means, don't you?"

"Yes, Monica. That would protect me from other women's traps and reinforce my enslavement by you."

"So, do you want my milk?"

"Yes please, Monica. If I had been able to choose, I would have chosen you. Now you have chosen me, I want to stay yours. I had forgotten that I was vulnerable from last night and thank you for protecting me. Your milk will make that protection stronger..."

As I was speaking, Monica had unbuttoned the top of her dress and had lifted her bra. My words were stopped by a breast pushed into my open mouth. I sucked and felt a small trickle of milk. I swallowed. Monica pulled her breast away.

"That's all you are getting today, and for some time. I took a low dose of the milk producing drug, just enough to give you a taste. Now you are wholly mine and we need to get on with the day."

We left her flat hand in hand. Several women, fellow final students, noticed our clasped hands and smiled broadly. They knew that Monica had claimed me.

Most of the day was concerned with administrative tasks, making sure we had returned library books, paid dues to the university, and corrected our forwarding addresses. We couldn't change the addresses. Where would we be? As a couple, do we go back to our parents' homes, or set up for ourselves? We didn't know. We left our parents' addresses as our contacts until we decided.

Our lunch in the canteen we talked about what we were going to do. The plans we had had as singles were now irrelevant. We both had more than one offer of employment for which we were grateful, but which would be best for Monica and James as a couple?

Since I was now Monica's slave, she could have decided what would be the best compromise that suited her. She didn't want to do that. She wanted us to discuss, and us to decide, what would be best for the two of us. I appreciated that. If she intended our relationship to be as equal as it could be between mistress and slave, my servitude would be very easy to bear.

At the end of the day she insisted that I share her bed. That was an order I was very willing to obey. She pulled my head between her breasts to activate her trap. Once my erection was achieved, she rode me repeatedly before she moved to snuggle her head against my shoulder. I slept better than I had done for weeks, happily drained by her sexual enhancement and grateful for the love she had given me.

Our relationship as mistress and slave seemed to have started as partners. I would always be the junior partner. That is a man's role on Shelacta. But I had Monica as a caring and considerate mistress. That was the best situation for any enslaved man.

oggbashan
oggbashan
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3 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousabout 6 years ago
Very good

Liked this

Calli06Calli06about 9 years ago
I surrender!

Somehow you peeked inside my mind, and rendered perfectly the fantasy that has been germinating there my entire life. Thank you for giving beautiful expression to what any real man wants!

AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago

This was very good! It was different.

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