Jill's Jarring Performance | chain and dance bondage story


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The evening on which I first unveiled my specimen jar certainly turned into a real humdinger... and that was only the beginning of a terrific weekend. It's true that I was naughty; tricking Jill into being incarcerated in that very confined space hardly comes into the realm of consensual play but then, had I sought her agreement first, it really would have reduced the whole thing to a mundanity woudn't it? I shall never forget her startled scream when she first realised what had happened to her.

After I pulled her out of the jar, I switched the steel cuffs for leather ones with a six-inch chain connector and she was still in them when we fell asleep. I was awakened next morning with some none too gentle pummelling on my chest. "James. James. Wake up. I want back in my tube."

I rolled my head groggily and looked at the bedside clock. "Seven forty. It's Saturday! Good God, woman, it's the middle of the night."

"No it's not. It's the beginning of another wonderful day. Can't wait to try it again. Please James, wake UP! "

I heaved myself up. "So. You want in again? You sure?"

"Oh, yes. I must have been dreaming about it all night."

"We haven't been asleep all night."

"Now stop splitting hairs. Wake up. Wake up."

In self-defence, I grabbed her manacle chain and, rolling out of bed, I dragged her after me, down the stairs, across the kitchen, over the outside patch and into the workshop. The tube was still lying where I had left it when I extricated her - no surprise really - and I pushed her down at its open end: "If you're so keen... In you go."

She looked at me a moment and stretched her cuff chain toward me. "I didn't bring the keys," I said. "Look - no pockets in my birthday suit. You were in such a hurry."

She hesitated; clearly that was not the scenario she had envisaged. I walked over and switched on the space heater. "In! Then perhaps I can get some sleep."

"James, no. That isn't... " . I put my hand at the back of her head and pushed her down; as I slid her head and shoulders into the open end she lodged her feet against my shins and tried to push me off. Alas, she forgot that I turn the scales at nearly twice her weight and she succeeded only in pushing herself in. I quickly re-fitted the base plinth and inserted the six holding screws.

"Enjoy, " I said. With the tube lying on the ground it was difficult to think of any harm that could come to her and so I went back to bed.

I wish I could say that it was worrying about her that kept me from slumber but I truly fear that it was thinking about her naked form trapped in that jar. After about fifteen minutes, I got dressed and went down to start on some breakfast but first I went to take a peep at my prisoner.

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I knew a fleeting moment of panic as I opened the door - both Jill and the tube had gone! And then, with immense relief, I spotted them at the other end of the workshop and still with the one inside the other. It seemed that Jill had discovered that, by shifting her weight, she could roll herself. Why the hell did I worry about her? But then it served to show that I had been over-confident. She was certainly secure within that jar but, if she did things like that, she could well end up in difficulties.

I rolled her back and, with some difficulty, manoeuvred through the door; then another roll across the open to the kitchen door. Getting the pair of them inside was even more difficult given that I wasn't prepared to risk any kind of hurt to Jill but, eventually, I had her standing in the corner of the kitchen. At first, she waited patiently until it became clear that I was intent on breakfast and had no intention of letting her out.

"James! You are NOT going to put me on show like this. Get me out."

I burst into song. "It was only a bird in a gilded cage; such an easy sight to seee...".

"JAMES ! "

"Something wrong, dear?"

"You know damn well that's something wrong. GET ME OUT OF HERE!!"

"But not half an hour ago, you were insisting that I put you in there. You even disturbed my well-earned beauty sleep. Seems there is no satisfying some people."

"James. " Her voice was taking on a menacing tone. "For the last time - get me out."

"Hmm. Have you heard the tale of the mouse that roared? I seem to be under the impression that my mouse is well and truly caged."

She was getting herself in something of a rage. I went back to the workshop and returned with a large dust-sheet and a roll of duct tape. Drawing up a chair I draped the sheet over the jar, wrapped it around and taped it into place. "Now, now, Polly. Pretty Polly. Just shut up for a few minutes while Daddy gets breakfast."

I parted the edges of the shroud to take a peep inside and was just in time to catch her wiping the grin off her face; after all - she still had the safeword to fall back on ?

But then... Oh boy... Then came the hearty sound of Tom's voice raised in halloo. Tom was, so to speak, one of our nearest neighbours and he and his wife were not-infrequent visitors. "Are you up yet or the pair of you still cooing in your dovecot?"

Not since my first pottying have I been so close to wetting myself. Talk about caught with your hand in the cookie jar - there's that word again. The screwdriver was out in the workshop. There were six screws to be removed before I could get Jill out of her jar and even that would be difficult unless I first laid it down. Joke: laid down, the jar was some seven feet long, I needed more room than that to lower it safely and, even then, it would require another five feet or so in which to extricate Jill. It would be difficult to find a patch in the kitchen clear enough to lay it down. After all that... Jill was starkers AND handcuffed with her arms stuck over her head!

As I imagined the panic now sweeping over Jill, I came close to both peeing my pants and orgasm. Tom was now outside the kitchen door and beside him I could see his wife Betty. " Mate," I said. "You two are early abroad. What's up, you left biscuit crumbs in the bed?"

"Nah. Mornings like this, we get out early for a run. Gets the old system going y'know."

"No, Tom. Weekends I reckon to turn the system down."

"With a wifey like yours, you reckon you have any sleep? Pull the other one, mate."

"Tom ! Behave yourself. " Then Betty turned to me. "Where is Jill?

"Ah, she's still in bed. Had a bit of a rough night. Seems like a tummy upset or something."

"Oh dear. Shall I go up and talk to her?"

"Great offer, Betty, but she's asleep now and it's best I think to leave her. They do say sleep is one of the best healers?"

"Yes, that's true. Well, give her my love and I'll 'phone later."

"How about a cup of coffee now that your here. Just making it... "

"Hey, thought you'd never ask. That smell is turning my belly inside out."

I had the greatest difficulty in keeping a solemn countenance as I imagined Jill's face; I had invited them in instead of shooing them out as quickly as possible and they would be sitting just a few feet from her in all her glorious technicolour.

"What'n hell y'got there, mate? You getting big ideas about Polos ?"

"Oh, it's just my latest idea. Not doing so well with it at the moment."

"Aye. Can we have a look?"

"Not 'till it's finished. We artistic types like to keep our mistakes secret you know."

"Artistic types? If I know anything about you - and I do know about you - I would... "

"Tom. You're not fit to be taken anywhere. Stop being nosey. All the same, James, you will invite us to the grand opening when it's ready?"

"Sure, Betty. I wouldn't miss that for all the beer in Australia. And... you talk about MY good wife." I shook my head sadly at Tom.

Tom was in mighty good spirits and talked loudly and longly about everything and anything until eventually Betty stopped him in mid flight. "Come, lover boy. We have things to do even if James is going back to bed. Love to Jill... and thanks for that lovely cup of coffee."

I collapsed back into my chair and not only because my knees gave way. Shaking with laughter, I parted the cover over my wife; at first she looked daggers but, slowly, her face creased and she joined me in my movin' and shakin' . She looked so vulnerable standing in there with her hands trapped above her head and her knees pressed against the side of the jar because her legs, too, had given up the struggle to support her.

"James, if you don't get me out of here you'll have a lot of mopping up to do, " she threatened. "Have you any idea how close I got to coming?"

"Well, at least I've got some new ideas on how to keep you amused." There being no need to dodge, I waltzed my way out to the workshop and came back with the screwdriver and the ghetto-blaster.

"But first," I said with forefinger pointing down and describing small circles: "Gyrate. Come my little houri; dance for Daddy." I pressed the play button and the tape began to whisper the strains of Ravel's Tango Bolero.

I don't think she could believe it at first but, facing up to the inevitable and inescapable, she placed her uplifted hands palm-to-palm and began to undulate. And was that a surprise for me? I had no idea...

With a bit of tilting over, the odd bit of improvisation and some not very encouraging comments from Jill, I managed to get her standing free in the kitchen holding out her cuffed hands. "No way," I said in my meanest voice. "Not finished with you yet. And I'll double the time if you make a mess."

While she was gone, I tidied the jar back into the corner. Then she came back looking all the better for a wash and brush up and she had taken some trouble with her hair. As she reached for the coffee pot, I patted her hands away. "Ah-huh; this has been a morning of discovery. You've got to earn your brekky; dance for me again ."

For a moment rebellion boiled within her but she knew I was not going to relent; it was dance or admit defeat and use that safeword. Poor Jill - I knew only too well what it would take to make her back down. She danced; we ate breakfast and drank all the coffee; on my command she danced again and then, afraid my pants would burst, I seized her and carried her back to bed.




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