Oil Change

Faced with errands to run and a day off, I’m always looking for some way to include a trussed up wife and make the chores more interesting. 

The other morning I lead the little brunette out to the garage and traded her clothes for rope. I trussed her in to a nice, naked, tightly folded bundle, with her wrists behind her and her knees tied tight against her shoulders, held spread by ropes stretched across her back. I then tied her ankles down to her thighs, taking the time to loop cords from her big toes to her thigh bondage, ensuring that she could not use her feet to to cover herself, should anyone come across the very exposed little bundle. Since I had a nice “wide spread” theme going, I chose to gag her with a dental spreader gag, which cranked her mouth invitingly open. 

Content with her packaging, I loaded her into the trunk of the car. I was careful to position her with her feet pointing towards the rear of the car, so that anyone opening the trunk would be greeted with quite a view. With her loaded into the trunk, it was time to begin my errands. 

The first chore was to take the car for a drive-through oil change. While I’m a bit of a car buff, I hate changing the oil, especially when those twenty-minute oil change places can do it so effortlessly. Effortlessly, except for my wife, lying bound and gagged naked in the trunk, spread wide and exposed, listening helplessly as the mechanics worked around the car. She became particularly anxious when they started checking the taillights and rear turn signals. However, all of the rear lights were functioning, and there was no need for them to open the trunk and replace a bulb. 

Continuing with my auto care errands, I drove over to the auto parts store and bought some new vacuum line and hoses for another project. Of course, I had to store the packages in the trunk. With the trunk open wide in the parking lot, I spent a few extra minutes making certain that all of the packages were carefully arranged before closing the lid again. 

I noticed that the car had gotten dirty, so I ran the car through a car wash while I was out. It was nice to take a break and relax, sit back and enjoy a warm, bright morning while the guys at the car wash toweled off the car. In the trunk, my wife was nervously listening to the sounds of people wiping the car down, hoping that no one would hit the trunk release. She’s not certain which was worse, this trip or her last venture to the car wash. 

Finished with my errands, I headed home and unloaded by bound bundle into the garage. I placed her on a patio chair cushion in the center of the garage floor, again with her feet pointing towards the door for the best view. I closed the garage door and pulled the car out of the driveway. Next, I pulled our project car into the driveway, with the the grill facing the garage and set to the task of replacing the vacuum lines and hoses. 

Unfortunately, I hadn’t left much room between the car and the garage. Rather than trouble myself with moving the car, especially with the air breather off and all, I raised the garage door to give myself some more room. The car of course blocked any view from the street of my anxious wife’s predicament. My view of her predicament did seem to slow down my work, however. For some reason, I kept getting distracted. I was so distracted in fact, that at one point I realized that I had left one of the bags in the trunk, and had to walk down to the car to retrieve it. For some reason, it took me several minutes to find the package in the otherwise empty trunk. 

After I completed the work on the car, I carried the little bundle into the house and began my work on her.
 
 
 

19.11.05