Lyfftway To Heaven
by Victor Von Doum and animegirlwithagun
Part Two
Date With A…
Further qualifying Iza’s question about whether he had appeared in her dream
the night before, Victor continues, “Well, sort of.”
Iza stammers, “OK, how is it possible? I, uh, have NEVER seen you before. In my dream you looked younger than you did in the car. Now you look my age again. And what do you mean ‘sort of?’ ‘Sort of’ in my dream, or ‘sort of’ a man?”
Victor walks toward the bed, Wayfarers in hand, and sets them on Iza’s dresser. “Glad you asked. Changing my appearance is one of my powers,” Victor responds matter-of-factly. “I WAS the one in your dream. But I’m not a man.”
“So, you’re trans? I mean, it’s cool if you are—”
“Heh,
no. I’m neither man nor woman, nor non-binary.”
“Um, OK,” mumbles Iza, confused. “What are you then?”
“I guess you’d call me an angel.”
Shocked but somehow still comforted, Iza can barely speak. “W-w-wait…an ANGEL angel? Sure explains your angelic looks. So, one like Michael and Gabriel?”
“Ha ha, a bit. They’re like brothers to me.” Victor continues, , continuing,
“They didn’t get much right in that movie though.” Now jokingly mocking
indignation, “They also get most of the publicity, especially Michael after
than ‘90s movie named after him.”
“Um, OK…who ARE you then?”
“My
true name is Raphael, the archangel. It’s Hebrew for ‘God heals’ and it’s why
I’m here. I only use the name Victor as an alias.”
“OK, why ‘Victor?’”
“I’m an archangel. Victory is what we do.”
“All right, this is crazy. An archangel drives me home, ties me up in my boots, and I’m talking to him now in my bedroom about how he’s going to heal me. Are you sure I’m not still dreaming? Passed out maybe?”
“I assure you that you are not,” Victor-now-Raphael calmly replies. “Also, I want to assure you that I am here for YOU and not for ME. I will be merely guiding you on your journey of healing. Absolutely no touching.”
“Oh,” Iza utters, a bit dejected given the drop-dead gorgeousness of this young-looking, square jawed, dark-haired, green-eyed white guy with a slight stubble, and forgetting completely about her still-unconsummated-but exclusive boyfriend. Raphael sits on the bed next to her. Instinctively, Iza feels the urge and moves her head to kiss him, wanting to, ever so deeply. Raphael pauses for a split-second before moving his head away slightly.
“Now, now, Iza, mustn’t touch…a lot of other items WILL be touching you. Just not me. Remember that other ‘90s movie, City Of Angels? They got that one right: Nicolas Cage’s character, the angel Seth, did not possess, well, male organs. THAT time the move-makers got it exactly right,” Raphael takes care to repeat, and reassure.
Almost Touched by An Archangel (7:03pm)
She stammers
a bit nervously, “OK, so you’re not hear to molest me…comforting. So why the
tie-up? I’ve never been into bondage.”
Raphael shoots her the “uh-huh” look, like, please-don’t-try-to-fool-me. He continues,
“Well,
maybe not before last night’s dream anyway, but now you sure are. I suspect you
may have pondered the subject occasionally. Otherwise, it would not have
appeared in your subconscious.”
Iza’s eyes betraying her thoughts and realizes that she has indeed thought
about it: countless times. For as long as she can remember, she’s harbored the
fantasy of bottoming in boots and rope bondage. Sometimes she finds herself in
different positions with different gags, but she’s always dreamt of tight ropes
encircling her boots, her wrists, and her body, with a full gag so she can’t
protest when the stimulation arrives. A bit shy by nature, she’s always
refrained from asking her partners to tie her up and gag her, feeling that such
a proposition would come across as off-putting and would turn them away.
Instead, Iza loves reading online stories of booted women finding themselves bound and gagged. Still in her teens, she read one story, “BowPi The Cowgirl” about an eighteen-year-old woman’s first encounter with boots, gags, and bondage and how it propelled the protagonist’s confidence. Iza loved it so much that she herself now pens semi-biographical stories, with young women characters in exciting B&G situations, some sexual and some non, but always receiving some serious bondage action.
As
Raphael explains, “You see, as you were dreaming, it was actually happening.
You were about to, well, experience a much-needed orgasm, and I suspect a
rather intense one or more. Trouble is, I’d dropped onto Earth at the speed of
light and as we all know, sound travels a lot more slowly than light. The
thunder that awoke you actually came from the sonic boom from my arrival
minutes before. Bad timing. Sorry about that.”
“Yeah, sure, no worries…” responds Iza, still unsure of tonight’s proceedings, “But wait, you’re an angel. Shouldn’t you KNOW when it should all happen?”
“Hey,
I’m an angel. I’m not God.”
“Good point,” Iza chuckles, continuing, “Um, so thanks I guess for the healing
that is supposed to start happening, but I’m not sick. I eat well, I’m thin, I
work out, I go out dancing, I’m young…”
“Not
that kind of healing, Iza.”
“Ok, so I give up: WHAT kind of healing?”
Instantly, her Alexa turns on and starts playing Marvin Gaye’s classic, “Sexual Healing.”
At that moment, Iza realizes she’s no longer wearing her Blue Jays cap and her bra. She sees them sitting neatly atop her dresser, along with her Aviator shades, close to where Raphael had set his Wayfarers.
“Oh, NOW I understand. Very nice,” Iza responds. “Wait, but you already promised you weren’t going to touch me — thanks for letting me know, by the way — so how…?”
“Iza,
have you forgotten your recent purchases?”
Raphael points toward her discreet bag of new toys and it levitates slowly,
floats over to the bed, and lands at Iza’s side.
“Another one of your powers, I take it?” Iza queries.
“Yes indeed. A bit like Bewitched, don’t you think? It also explains how I took off your sunglasses, cap and bra. Hope you don’t mind.”
She doesn’t. Iza nods and asks, “What else?”
“Well, aside from healing and light-speed travel, most of my ‘powers’ aren’t all that powerful: I can only raise and lower the age of my own appearance, I can completely hide my wings — you see, I’m not sporting any — I can levitate small items, and I can play with time but only by a twenty-four-hour period. As I said, I’m only an angel.”
“Only,” Iza chuckles, as she notices Raphael’s piercing green eyes light up as he waves his index finger slightly around in a circle. A three-meter section of cotton rope comes out the bag in its original figure-eight wrapping. Raphael directs it behind Iza, where it unwraps itself and proceeds to wind around Iza’s torso, at the top and bottom of her boobs, scrunching them together horizontally, sending extra blood to Iza’s nipples.
“Ooooo,” Iza purrs, her braless nipples feeling the heat and the fibers of her berry red long sleeved crop top.
“Before
I forget,” Raphael notes, and motions his fingers again, and another section of
rope emerges from the bag, again passing behind Iza’s back, this time passing
between the boob-ropes and around her neck and under her arms to complete the
harness. This extra pressure pushes her already-erect bare nipples even more
into her crop top. Iza purrs at the sensation, especially now with the A/C vent
flowing into the unbuttoned portion of her crop top, swirling around her party
hats and her areolae, seemingly mini tornadoes whirling.
As she takes in a breath at this sensation, she closes her eyes briefly,
missing the sight of her new gray bandana rolled up in a tight ball, floating
and landing in her mouth, with the other bandana following right after, its
5-cm folded width lodging over her stuff-gag and teeth, just between her
waiting lips. It ties behind her back firmly, around the base of her
high-ponytailed raven hair.
“Ooo---mmp,”
startled, Iza blurts out…or starts to, before the stuff-gag wedges itself in
her mouth. Instinctively her tongue rushes up to it and she licks its backside,
tasting clean and not stiff. Never having experienced a stuff-and-cleave gag
combo before, she finds it exciting, this feeling of speechlessness.
“I took the liberty to wash off all of your new toys,” Raphael explains.
Iza barely hears him as her new toys are distracting and exciting her. She can barely move her mouth with one bandana stuffed in it and another keeping it tightly in place.
“Mmmp-mmp-mmmp-mmp-mmp,” her “I can’t say a word” comes out, unsurprisingly, considering the position of her tongue at the back and bottom of her elaborate gag.
Still sitting upright, Iza sees the rope-length attached to her cross-tied ankle ropes loosen itself from the bed footboard and fall to the ground. At the same time, her the ropes around her ankles loosen just enough for her knee-high black booted lower legs to move next to each other, with the ankle-ropes now tightening enough for her to feel it through the leather, with the final cinch making the leather squeak. Tight knots form around the coils.
Another length of ropes appears, this time repeating the process at the tops of her black boots. Again, she hears the leather squeak with the cinching, and it transmits to her groin, as if a radio wave were hitting her sexual hotspot. She starts breathing more heavily, and it picks up when another set of rope wraps itself around her lower thighs; she feels it though her tan leggings and the pressure there sends another wave of excitement to her sex.
Ever more turned on, she notices Raphael move his hands at her with a turnover motion. She slightly levitates as she moves from a sitting-up position to one on her stomach. Ropes come and encircle her elbows, making them touch one another; she feels them tie up with the ropes of the figure-eight harness around her boobs and it sends her nipples even further into her crop-top, now flat on top of the bed, feeling like they could cut through her top and then cut holes in her comforter. She now feels the length of rope tightening from her ankle-ropes, pulling her black boots toward her bound hands as it attaches itself to the knots of her elbow ropes, putting her in a strict hogtie and sending her ever closer to her long-awaited destination. Her fingertips feel the leather of her black boots and start stroking the boot-shafts, the sticking to the leather slightly and making sounds as they rub across them. Her fingers bump into the loose ends of the knots, knowing she could never untie them even if she wanted to.
She doesn’t.
Iza’s never felt so restrained and free at the same time. Without warning, she tenses up. Even without any direct contact to her sex, she feels a wave coming. Her breathing gets shorter as her body betrays her and she hits her first O in a long, loooonnnnng time.
“Gnnnnk, ggggnk, gggnmpk,” Iza grunts into her well-packed mouth, her body convulsing uncontrollably. Orgasmic waves hit her, rolling throughout her pelvis area and beyond. She feels extra hot waves on her chest and belly as they hit her comforter. They continue before slowly subsiding.
Raphael
smiles. Iza closes her eyes and swiftly falls asleep.
Eyes Wide Unshut (7:03pm)
“Well, that went fast,” remarks Raphael.
“Oh,
hi, Raphael,” Iza replies. “Uh, what happened?”
“You don’t remember?”
“No, of course I do. You had ropes tie me up all over the place. I had a cloth
in my mouth and I’m guessing a bandana around my head keeping it in place nice
and tight. It felt…”
“Felt…?”
“Indescribable.” She notices the time on her alarm clock of 7:03pm.
“Good for you, Iza,” Raphael says to her. She’s now sitting up in bed, exactly the way she was after she first realized she was tied up in her apartment: wrists tied behind her back, ankles cross-tied and lashed to the footboard with another rope. She notices Raphael’s green eyes light up, sees him wave his index finger slightly around in a circle, and again a three-meter section of cotton rope comes out the bag in its original figure-eight wrapping. He directs it behind Iza, where it unwraps itself and proceeds to wind around her torso, at the top and bottom of her boobs, scrunching them together horizontally, sending extra blood to Iza’s nipples.
“Ooooo,” Iza purrs again, her braless nipples feeling the heat and the fibers of her berry red crop top.
Again,
Raphael motions his fingers, and more rope emerges from the bag, again passing
behind Iza’s back, again between the boob-ropes and around her neck and under
her arms to complete the harness. Again, extra pressure pushes her
already-erect bare nipples even more into her crop top. Again she purrs at the
sensation, especially now with the A/C vent flowing into the unbuttoned portion
of her crop top, swirling mini tornadoes whirling around her party hats and her
areolae.
Again she takes in a breath at this deep sensation, closing her eyes briefly.
This time, however, her new ballgag floats and lands in her mouth, the single
strap locking firmly around the base of her raven hair. The ballgag wedges itself
in her mouth. Instinctively her tongue rushes up to it and she licks its
bottom-side, tasting clean and not factory-ey.
“Ooo---gngk,” Iza blurts out…or starts to, before the ballgag wedges itself in her mouth, over her tongue. Never having experienced a ball gag before, she finds it exciting, this different kind of feeling of muffled silence.
“Mmmp-mmp-mmmp-mmp-mmp,” her “I can’t say a word” Iza utters again. This time the rope connecting her ankle-ropes to the footboard comes off, as do the ankle-ropes themselves. One set wraps around her upper left thigh. Another set of ropes wrap around her left boot’s ankle. The two sets knot with each other and the process repeats itself on her right upper thigh and right boot’s ankle. Now frogtied and kneeling, the entire process repeats itself as it had unfurled before, until a new addition appears.
Another rope appears around her waist, with a section of it traveling between her every-moistening crotch area, adding pressure there. The ends of this crotch-rope find their way to Iza’s wrist-ropes, knotting themselves to them. She immediately realizes her control over the crotch-rope; Iza tugs and increases the pressure on her lower lips and love honey, as her berry-red polished fingernailed hands apply pressure to the crotch-rope in alternating tugs and releases. The ropes around her boots squeak with ever-greater intensity as she grinds onto the crotch-rope, pulling and loosening, having it dig just enough into her most sensitive area until she can take no more. Her body tenses up and…
“Oh mmm ggggddd, oh gggddddd, gngh, ggnh” Iza cries into her ballgag, her grunt barely registering through her stuffed mouth as another major O rips through her body, sending her trembling in ecstasy. She takes it all in as her body start relaxing before slumping to her right side.
Iza’s heavy breathing continues before slowly subsiding. Her heavy eyelids close and she drifts off to asleep.
End of Part Two