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Spring "Bound" (chapter 2/3 up)

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Her hand is warm and soft, a subtle contrast to the brisk evening spring air that you both step into outside.

“You’re taking me outside?” She asks, surprise in her voice. A black bandana covers her eyes, acting as a blindfold. You check to make sure she can’t see anything around the edges or underneath- she can’t. She’s clutching your hand tightly, trusting you to guide her to wherever you’re taking her out here in the wilderness, checking to see to it that she doesn’t trip over a branch or walk into a tree. The sun has already set an hour or two ago, but there’s enough light from the moon for you to see by.

You can’t see her eyes, obviously, but her nose, defined and just ever-so-barely upturned, is a very light shade of pink. The cold of winter has finally broken and the flora is just beginning to bloom – her allergies, sensitive as she is to the change of season, have begun.

She had been excited when you said you wanted to try something new with her, but now, even with her eyes covered and her expression somewhat hidden, you can sense her trepidation.

You brought her outside. She shouldn’t be outside.

After only a few minutes of walking, you both have arrived. You guide her down, gently, gently, so that her back is up against the rough bark of a tree and her legs crossed underneath of her. You take her hands, soft and small, and lightly guide them behind her so you can restrain them to the tree which lies behind her. You brought a long scarf with you to do so, and you first wrap it around her slim wrists before bringing it around the narrow tree trunk and tying it in a knot.

Her breath catches. She gives a nervous, shaky grin. This is new to her, and to you, if you’re being honest. But you both wanted this.

“Can I see where we are yet?” She asks tentatively, almost as if she’s not sure herself if she wants to know your surroundings yet.

“Not yet.” You bop her lightly on the tip of her nose with your fingertip. She crinkles her nose in response and lets out a breath.

“Where do you think you are?” You ask. “Tell me what’s around you.”


“Well, we’re outside,” she starts, hesitatingly. “I can feel the breeze, and the tree behind me, and I’m sitting on grass.” Her fingers stroke the greenery beneath her and pluck at the blades mindlessly. “They’re both probably some kind I’m allergic to.” She sniffs. “My nose started prickling as soon as you brought me out here, but ever since I sat down I feel my nose starting to run and get itchy.”


“Good girl,” you tell her, placing your hand on her knee. She wasn’t quite prepared for the weather, as you were both inside. You feel bad for not thinking about what she was wearing before you brought her out here. It’s late, and she’s in nothing more than a little slip of a nightdress. Goosebumps are already raised along her legs and arms. She doesn’t seem to be too bothered by the cold though, given the circumstances and excitement running through her.

You’re prepared, and you reach into the pack you brought to pull out a long, flowering stem of ragweed. It’s thick and full, brimming with buttery-yellow flowers simply dripping with pollen.

She hears the noise of you taking it out and cocks her head, trying to listen and prepare for what’s to happen. But she can’t, and she startles in surprise when you lightly brush the stem across her exposed skin.

You trace it delicately over her skin – from her fingertips, over her arms, across her shoulders and dipping down between her breasts. The plant is so flowering and full that it leaves traces of the bright yellow pollen everywhere it touches across her skin, like a trail to follow.

“Wha – what is that?” She asks, breathily. She sniffs, once, twice.

You don’t answer, deciding to show her.

You bring the stem up to her face now – drawing it gently over her chin, tracing her deep pink, full lips, and guide the flowers across her high cheek bones. It continues to drop tiny grains of pollen that only you can see on her.

“Hehh-” She hitches, her first of the evening. Certainly not the last. She’s so very often hitchy, so itchy, that you would think you would grow tired of it. But you never will.

“Are you alright?” You ask, bringing up the plant to now stroke down from the bridge of her nose to the tip. “Allergies bothering you?” There’s a line of pollen down her nose, and the plant is still full and blooming as ever.

The ragweed tendril traces the rim of her nostrils, which have now begun to flare – perfect, twitchy little ‘o’s.’

“Hehh – ihhh – yeh,yes….yes they are,” she answers, her breath catching and nose twitching.

The plant continues around her nose for a bit before outlining the bandana still covering her eyes.

She scrunches her nose up, wriggling it back and forth. “So itchy.”

Her nose has begun to run, a thin, clear stream of liquid running from her nostrils to wait just above her full upper lip. You touch the tip of the flowering plant to the area and little pollen grains stick in the moisture. Her nostrils begin to flare even more, her breath stuttering. “Giihh – hiihh – guhh-”

“Now now,” you say, kissing lightly just below her ear. Her breath catches. “None of that yet.”


Her eyebrows raise – you know, under the bandana resting tightly across her eyes, that her eyes are wide in surprise. “Buhh- but I haah-ave to-.” Her breath begins hitching once more as her chest rises and falls quickly with her uneven breaths.


“Hold it in,” you tell her. The tip of the ragweed plant prods the tip of one delicate nostril. “We’re just getting started.”

You trace the edges of her nostril with the plant, watching as she crinkles her nose from the tickling and the itchiness. Her cheeks are now flushed, her lips parted slightly for her to breathe as congestion begins to build in her sinuses. Her nose continues to run and more pollen falls off of the plant and sticks to her upper lip for her to repeatedly breathe in.

“HIIihh…Iiihh..Uuuhh…” she is panting with the sneezes building inside of her. Her nose is twitching incessantly but her hands are bound and useless. She struggles to bring her shoulder up high enough to rub her nose to take care of the burning itch but she cannot, bound to the tree as she is.

You see her desperation, the itchiness overtaking her face and the thin mucus streaming from her fluttering, pink nostrils.

She so desperately needs relief – already. It is amazing how quickly her body reacts to the harmless allergen, the innocent flowering plant.

Luckily, your hands are not bound like hers.

You bring your hand to her face, wiping away wet trails of tears that have leaked from underneath the bandana over her eyes. You reach out a probing finger to the tip of her nose, testing its sensitivity to your touch. You lightly run a fingertip down her nose and she twitches – ever-so-sensitive, especially in her allergic state right now. But the touch is also a relief and she leans eagerly into your hand, begging without words for you to rub her itchy, itchy nose and ease some of her allergic desperation.

You concede, but only slightly. Your index finger and thumb run down either side of her nose, rubbing the irritated skin and pushing away an itch. But the motion releases some of the nasal wetness further from her nostrils and begins to drip past her lips.

She brings her legs up towards her face to try to wipe it away, but you push them back down gently and straddle her thighs so that she cannot cheat and use her legs to ease her symptoms. Instead, you clear just her lips with a soft handkerchief you brought and kiss them – firm, but gentle. Her lips are warm and full and soft, though she breaks away from your kiss after a few moments so she can breathe through her mouth, gasping for air after being without it during your kiss.

She is already so congested, she cannot even kiss you for more than a moment before needing to come up for air.

When she pulls her face from yours to breathe, her nose brushes against yours and triggers the itch once more from deep within her sinuses.

She scrunches her nose, desperately trying to appease the itch but to no avail. Just that lightest touch set her off, and it is too late to come back from it.

“Heehhh….” Her lips are parted, panting. Her ample chest, under her thin nightgown, is heaving with her hitching breaths. “Iiihh.. I…caahh- can’t hiiihh- hold it baahh- back…” Her mouth opens more while her nostrils flare to their widest, and you know what’s to come.

“HIIIH-NGXT!” You pinch her nose at the very last moment, not allowing the sneeze to escape. She moans as the itch continues – her obstructed sneeze did not relieve the desperate itch raging inside her nasal passages. HIIIH-NGgXT!” HIiihh-EH-ngXT!” You hold her nose closed before each release. It is not time yet, you both still have so much more to go. She attempts to sneeze so many more times. Once she starts she cannot stop – you both know that, now, from experience. But these impeded sneezes bring her no relief and finally she stops trying. For now.

As you’ve thwarted her sneezing, she’s left stuffy and congested, runny. The allergen cannot escape and neither can her defense against it – and she’s now panting through an open mouth, so stuffed she cannot breathe one bit from her blocked yet pouring nose.

She struggles to catch her breath after such an impeded fit, her chest swelling with her gasping breaths. She tries to sniff but cannot, making a blocked squelching noise that makes you cringe at the distress it must be causing her.

You bring your hands up to her face once more, but this time, you deftly untie the bandana wrapped around her eyes. You make quick work of it, and she makes a relieved little sound when it finally it released and she can see, blinking her eyes and looking around at the trees and greenery around you in your little wooded clearing.

Even from just a few minutes outside together, her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, overflowing with allergic tears that spill from the corners. They are gritty and itchy looking, and she continuously clamps them tight as if trying to stop the itch and provide even some brief relief.

But it’s clearly not her eyes bothering her the most; as she looks down at herself and sees the broadening stream of mucus that’s begun to drip down, she brings those irritated red eyes to your own.

“Can I blow my nose?” She pleads, eyes imploring you for even just the faintest hint of relief. “Please?”


She is unbelievably congested; her nasal stuffiness has transformed her ‘n’s’ to ‘d’s’ and the thickness in her voice is just incredible. Her face is full and heavy with what her nose is clogged with and it’s clear from her request that she would kill for a good blow right now for some reprieve.

You draw the handkerchief from your back pocket once more and wipe the liquid tenderly from her upper lip, her chin, the small spots dotting her exposed chest. She sighs in relief and sticks out her head and nose so that you can allow her to blow.

But you don’t.

You leave her stuffed and runny. “I guess we’ll have to figure out another way to get rid of that congestion,” you finally respond.

You can think of a few ideas.


Shall I continue?
Let me know what you like!

Edited by MyOwnPrivateSFC

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Yes please continue. I like the style of this story, and of course the holdback. I also liked the mystery of what it was that was making her nose itch and run, and eventually sneeze. The detail with the pollen on the ragweed was a wonderful touch.

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Pleeeease continue this, it was so wonderful to read lol, almost suspenseful in a way. Your detail in all of it was amazing, thanks for writing it!

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yes please! continue this! it's wonderful

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this was so good wow! :shocking: please continue 

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Continue please 

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Please do more. I need more. 

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Wow, that was amazing. I love this scenario! 

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This. Is. Incredible.


Thank you- and please do continue!

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Yes please!  I really enjoyed it.

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Wow.. this is great!  Thanks

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Please continue!!! This was so perfect.

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You know, I'm mostly a ghost reader, but I felt forced to come out from my grave to say:
Damn, that was incredible!

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Wow, thanks so much for all of your beautiful comments! They made me super happy and I'm so glad you're enjoying this. Please keep 'em coming, I love to hear from you and it keeps me writing!! 

On 3/12/2019 at 10:02 PM, Josisclayton said:

You know, I'm mostly a ghost reader, but I felt forced to come out from my grave to say:
Damn, that was incredible!

@Josisclayton I'm so glad you decided to come out from the grave to comment, so thank you! As a writer in other fandoms/sites as well I can promise you that everyone looooves to hear from readers, even if they have no more to say than "it's good." I hope you continue to let me know how you are liking the story! 


So without further ado, here is chapter 2 of 3:


She moans at your pronouncement – a thick, full sound in the back of her congested nose and throat.

Wet allergic tears continue to leak from her eyes, and if you didn’t know better it would appear as though she were crying. You’ve seen it enough to know it is from her allergies, however, though perhaps you haven’t seen her quite so afflicted before.

“Hiihh- how are we supposed to if you won’t let me sneeze?” She asks. She snuffles heavily – once, then twice. Her nostrils flare wide, her lips parted as she pants to stave off yet another round of sneezing.

Don’t you worry about that,” you tell her.  “I can’t deny myself for very long.”

She smiles, at that – she knows what you like, embarrassed though she is. She wants to please you despite her incredible discomfort.

Suddenly her eyes narrow and squint, her ample breasts heaving and nose twitching. “Hiihh…heehhh…giiihh…” She struggles briefly against her bindings to the tree, feeling the itch rage in her sinuses and prickle deep within her nose and throat and eyes. “Puhhh..please,” she begs of you, trying to meet your wondrous gaze but her allergies will not allow her, caught in the throes of the attack as she is.

She looks so desperately adorable and helpless, heaving and hitching and itchy, that you allow her one lapse in control. She's been so good, after all. 

“HihIIH-HeeEHH- Hih-IgGsSCHOo!” She pitches forward violently, spasming with the forceful sneeze that was too powerful for her sensitive nose to overcome.

You’re still sitting straddling her legs, and you recognized the signs of her oncoming attack. You were prepared.

Poor thing. She deserves at least a little bit of relief, some semblance of comfort.

You catch her sneeze in your soft handkerchief – your aim true. You can feel the weight and the wetness that the cloth has caught in your palm and you wrap it up gently before bringing it to your afflicted girl once more.

Once again the sneeze has not brought her itchiness enough relief, and you are not surprised to see her gearing up for quite the allergic fit. But it is still not time, you both still have so much more to do, so you tenderly bring the handkerchief to her needy, inflamed nose and gently press to stifle the remains of her bursting sneezing fit. 

“HIIIH-NGgXT!” HIiihh-EH-ngXT!” The process repeats itself again and again.

Not yet, not yet,” you whisper to her as you press tender kisses along her jawline as she twitches with sneezes. “I’ll take care of you, no need to let them out yet.”

She nods in acknowledgement while she continues to hitch and moan, until finally, finally, she relaxes back against the tree trunk with a sigh of relief. Then, she looks up, gazing into the budding branches stretched high above her, just barely begin to flower, and she begins to hitch again just from the sight of it.

So pitiful. So delicate, so sensitive. Just the mere sight of allergens blooming above her begins a reaction coursing through her body, up her throat and nasal passages, burying itself deep within her sinuses and inflamed, flaring, irritated nose.

She’s desperate to get those sneezes out, and you decide to be a good partner. She has been so good, after all, all this time out here. You decide to help her out.

Once more from your pack you retrieve a long bundle of grass. You haven’t the faintest idea what kind it is, but you plucked it from where you both went for a picnic that one time, amidst the fields, and had to leave only bites into your meal when she sneezed in such a long, desperate, urgent fit that you practically had to carry her back home to safety as she pitched tirelessly and wetly into your shoulder.

She must recognize the plant, because her eyes grow wide in anticipation. “Ohhh,” she groans, and you’re not sure this time if it’s in response to the sight of the grass in your hands or from the irritation that’s beginning to creep back into her nasal passages.

She sniffs wetly as her nose begins to run and drip once more, and you think it’s both.

You lightly caress her inner thighs with the long, tickly blades, and she stiffens at the touch, twitching.

“That tiih-tiihh-tickles,” she finally gets out, once again trying and failing to rub her prickling nose with just her shoulder.

The blades of grass continue their path up over her center, her stomach, her chest. Her nightgown is low-cut and the budding fronds dance along the tops of her breasts, leaving traces of light green particles in their wake.

She begins another fit of hitching breaths, frantic and heaving. The grains from the grasses bounce with her struggling breaths, some falling down past her cleavage into the fabric where you can no longer see them, while some dance around her chest and stick to the remnants of wetness from her drippiness there earlier.

“Ehh-HIIHH…..hheehhh….giihhh…hhuuhhh….” She is struggling dreadfully, her nose dripping past her lips and chin once more to fall onto her swelling chest.

You continue to touch the bundle of grasses over her collarbones, tracing the fine line of her slim neck and sweeping across her delicate jawline. You bring the greenery to rest just under her nose, between her full, quivering lips and her flinching, reddened nostrils. Grass pollen dislodges from the plant and sticks to the wetness there, adding to her misery.

“HEEH-IIHH….” Her hitching breaths are growing stronger. “Hiiiih…HAAahhh…” She looks wretched, hopeless that this itchy, congested torture will be expelled soon.

“Puhh…please,” she begs, “I haahh…haaave…to….” Her breath leaves her, then, unable to do more than squirm and succumb to the itching, hitching, dripping torture that is her allergies.

“Go ahead,” you tell her. You wipe her lips clean softly once more, and join them with your own. She seems torn- she wants to kiss you, badly – her lips move to fit yours perfectly and she is so soft and warm – yet then she breaks away, gasping for air, and twitching, shuddering, with the need to release.

“I….caahhh…can’t,” she struggles to speak, trying to both meet your lips and release her aching need to sneeze at the same time.

She needs help.

How kind of you, to help her.

You place the budding, blooming grasses just under her nose, the flowering fronds poking and prodding at her trembling, flaring, red nostrils. She jumps at the itchy contact, moaning and groaning and sniffling continuously.

Then, you join her mouth to yours, so that the fronds are held between your skin. You feel the grasses tickle your face, but they do not yield the same reaction in you that they do to her.

“Iiihh-HIIHH…UUHHH…EehH…” she breathes urgently past your lips, into your mouth. She locks her lips to yours, wanting the contact and your touch but unable to hold it for very long due to her stuffed-up congestion. You can feel the pollen grains sticking to her upper lip, can feel the tickle of the grasses in her nose and teasing.

You break your lip contact and kiss her elsewhere, instead, so she is not so distracted from the greenery taunting her.

“Iiieehhh..” she moans, as you tenderly press kisses along her jaw.

“Hiihhh….heEHHhh…” she hitches as you bite down gently on her soft earlobe and the delicate skin beneath.

Her eyes close, fluttering, as you touch your lips gingerly to her closed lids. They continue to leak – ever-so-irritated, still gritty and itchy and worsening with every second. So swollen, so red. It’s a wonder she can even see.

You softly caress her swollen, tormented nose. She is still hitching, so desperate to sneeze and release her irritation and congestion. You run the soft pads of your fingers over the suffering upturned tip, trace the stricken, flaring nostrils that cannot take any more of this torture.

“Puuhh…please…” she gasps. “I caahhh…can’t…sniihhhh….sneeze!”

Poor, suffering thing – luckily for her you brought just what she needs. You know from experience what best helps her when she’s trapped in such a quivering, dripping state.

“I have just the thing to help,” you whisper into her ear.

She nods hurriedly, straining against the scarf binding her wrists behind her. She alternates between sniffling wetly and uselessly and battling against sharp, high-pitched, powerful hitching breaths.

You reach one last time into your pack…




Please let me know what you think! Any favorite parts?

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10 hours ago, wmb19 said:



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Oh my I am on the edge

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Uggghhh I need the relief! This is so good

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Im so loving your writing. Marvelous! I can't wait for more. This story is riveting. 

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Also, never read a story written in 2nd person so brilliantly. It is extremely hard to get right and you do it wonderfully. 

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I'm definitely a sucker for someone helping someone else stifle so this is right up my alley. 

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Taking torturous sneeze build-ups to new levels with this fic :D You have some great descriptions in here, especially the details about the pollen and how it effects her nose!

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This is one of my new favourite fics; I love the concept of her being teased while bound. The building desperation you manage to create is fantastic, and I'm looking forward to the next instalment!

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I agree with the comment above, you do an amazing job with second person writing and you have an amazing story here nonetheless, cant wait for the next part!

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