Work kept me busy, and my mind off other things, for a good two weeks. Unfortunately, my kinky neighbours were gone for a month and, in the period between those two events, I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened before and what I hoped would continue on their return.

I didn't have my self-bondage gear, Dafne had still 'confiscated' my toys, but even if I had access to them, I don't think I would have indulged myself. The problem was that the Dutch dominatrix had spoiled that for me. What was the point in tying myself up when I knew that the ropes would be so much tighter if she had applied them? What was the point in putting myself in a perilous situation when I knew that she would make it so much more dangerous and exciting? And what was the point in using a vibrator when I knew that sex with Stefan, and indeed Dafne, would be incomparably more enjoyable?

"Welcome back! I thought you might appreciate this," I said when Dafne opened the front door, showing her the bottle of wine I had brought round to share. She smiled, we air-kissed, then went inside and filled three glasses. Stefan joined us briefly, but then went off to continue unpacking.

"I've missed you, pet," Dafne said as we sat down at the kitchen table, "I've missed our little games."

"Mmm, me too," I concurred, sipping my wine.

"Good," she smiled, "because I have a little challenge for you." She tossed a pair of handcuffs and a ballgag onto the table.

"Next time you come here, I expect you to be naked, kneeling on my doorstep and wearing those."

"What?!" I exclaimed, "you can't be serious! I can't do that! Someone might see me!"

"You'll need to be careful, then, won't you?" she responded, with a look of devilish amusement on her face, "of course, you can always refuse…"

"And what then?" I asked bitterly, "you'll expose me on that website, won't you?"

"Oh, I don't think we need to keep up the pretence of that threat any more, do we?" she replied rather dismissively, "if you don't do as I say, I will do… absolutely nothing."

"I don't understand," I frowned in confusion, "what do you mean?"

"Exactly what I say," she smiled, "you can always refuse these challenges, but that rather spoils the game, doesn't it? I wouldn't be very interested in playing with you if you're not willing to obey me, to push yourself to and beyond your self-imposed limits."

"But… I can't go that far!" I protested, "you're asking too much of me!"

"That's fine," she countered, "we'll just go back to the way we were - good friends, none of this terrible kinky stuff which threatens your safe, boring little life. That's what you want, right?" She saw the conflict within me.

"Why don't you have a think about it?" she said, ushering me towards the door, "you know where to find me, and what you need to do if you change your mind." I found myself out on the doorstep, staring at the closed door, trying to understand what just happened.

By the time I got home, I had come to terms with this new predicament, but deciding what to do about it took me several days. At school during the following week, chatting to parents and colleagues, I couldn't stop myself imagining their reaction if they found out just how sick and perverted the 'lovely Ms Masterson' really was, visualising their horror, surprise, disgust, the universal opprobrium with which I would be faced. I would be sacked, obviously, and I couldn't continue to live around here. Why would I put all that at risk?

And yet, to my own astonishment, I was considering exactly that. I was trying to work out how I could minimise the risk of discovery, focusing on the rewards while simultaneously pushing the consequences of failure to the back of my mind. By Friday afternoon, my fears had been overwhelmed by my excitement and my decision, while still unacknowledged, was inevitable.

So, an observer  would have seen me walking down the High Street at 9 PM that Friday night, the collar of my raincoat turned up. The particularly keen-eyed observer might have noticed my bare legs and wondered at that on such a dark, chilly night, and also questioned the choice of high heels for an evening stroll. But I was fairly sure there were no such observers.

I walked past the village shop, which was dark and deserted, having closed at least an hour earlier. The village pub, by contrast, was brightly lit and full of Friday night customers, some enjoying a meal with family and friends, others celebrating the arrival of the weekend with a session on the beer. The noise of their revelry spilled out onto the street, and the open door of the establishment was ringed by furtive smokers, puffing away. I hurried past, hoping they wouldn't notice me.

Dafne and Stefan's house was about 50 yards beyond the pub, far too close for my liking but, luckily, hidden around a bend in the road. It was set back from the road, with a small lawn and flower beds in front but, from where I stood on the pavement outside the low retaining wall, I and anyone else passing by had a perfect view of the front door and its steps. This could be the stage for my utter disgrace, I thought, and the urge to turn and run back home was overwhelming.

I waited for the feeling to subside and, after checking both ways to ensure the coast was clear, I opened the gate and walked quickly up the short garden path. But rather than approaching the door, I diverted down the side of the house and behind the garage, out of sight.

Rushing to avoid thinking too much about what I was doing, I took the ballgag from my pocket and quickly strapped it in place. I took the handcuffs from my other pocket and closed one of the bracelets around my left wrist. I unfastened the belt of my raincoat and unbuttoned it before pausing, my hands gripping the lapels.

This is it, I thought, the moment of truth! The air was whistling in and out of my nostrils, and my heart was pounding wildly in my heaving chest as adrenalin rushed through my system. I waited another second for the excitement to take control of me, then whipped off the coat and stepped out of the shoes, leaving me naked in the darkness. I immediately started to shiver, both from the cold and the excitement.

I strained to listen for the slightest sound which might indicate approaching footsteps or traffic, then looked surreptitiously around the corner of the garage to convince myself that there was no-one there. A few moments delay to try to calm myself and gather my courage, then I dashed from my hiding place and around the house to the front door.

I rang the bell while looking behind me at the road, trying by force of will to stop anyone appearing. The seconds dragged out, causing me further palpitations while I silently screamed for someone to open the door, and then I heard the muffled sound of footsteps approaching inside. I quickly got down on my knees and, as the door handle started to turn, put my hands behind my back and closed the bracelet around my right wrist. I had done it!

"Well well, don't you look a picture?" I looked up to see Dafne standing over me, dressed in a full-length sleeveless evening gown. A little overdressed for a Friday night in, I thought nervously.

"Perfect presentation, pet, but your timing is very bad," she said, "we're entertaining, so I'm afraid I can't play with you tonight. Unless you' d like to come in and say hello? You know everyone, Marion and George, Yvonne." I shook my head, a look of horror on my face.

"Well, you can't stay out here all evening, you'll freeze your cute little behind off!" she smiled, "come on, I'll sneak you in and find you somewhere to hide till they're gone." I followed her into the hall, padding along behind her, admiring her backless dress, despite the precariousness of my situation.

I froze when I heard Marion, the headmistress of my school, talking in the dining room just ahead, her voice getting louder as she walked towards the door into the hall in which I was standing, naked, cuffed and gagged.

"Excuse me a moment," she was saying, "I just need to visit the little girl's room…" Thinking quickly, certainly far more quickly than my panic-stricken brain, Dafne pulled me into the sitting room and pushed me behind the full-length curtains in front of the French doors.

"I wondered where you'd got to," I heard Marion say, and realised she was in the room, just a few feet away. "Having a problem?"

"No, just straightening the room up so we can adjourn in here for coffee and liqueurs," Dafne replied smoothly, "what can I get you?" I heard them leaving the room and remembered to breathe again.

I was trapped behind the curtains, unable to move or make a noise in case I was discovered. I turned to find that I was looking out through French windows at the road, and I was on display like some Amsterdam prostitute for hire! I quickly lay down on the floor, hoping that I would be less obvious pressed flat against the wooden flooring. Beyond the flimsy barrier of the curtain, I heard Dafne, Stefan and their guests come into the room.

"I meant to ask you, Dafne," Yvonne said, sounding as if she was only inches in front of me, "I haven't seen Sally since our book group meeting, is she alright now?"

"I think she's fine," Dafne replied with a breezy tone, "although I understand she suffers from mild panic attacks now and again." Mild, I thought, isn't the word I would use to describe what I'm suffering right now!

I listened to the conversation continuing on the other side of the curtain from me for what seemed like forever but was probably about an hour, and my fear that someone would twitch the curtain aside gradually subsided. After a while, I found my nose twitching as something irritated it. I realised I must have stirred up a few specks of dust as I lay there, and I felt a growing need to sneeze. I fought it as hard as I could, but it was irresistible, leaving my only option as damage control. I bit down hard on the ball in my mouth, wrapping my lips around it in the hope of trapping the sound inside me. My whole body shook with the force of the sneeze when it arrived, and I knew that some strange noise had escaped me.

"What was that?" I heard Marion's voice close by, "it sounded like somebody sneezing outside the window!" I felt the curtains move and steeled myself for imminent discovery and exposure.

"I can't see anything," Dafne said from above me, and I looked up to see her poking her head through the gap she had opened while ensuring that the curtains stayed together where I was hiding. "Huh, curious. Maybe it was a hedgehog sneezing."

I was finally able to relax and breathe again when the conversation resumed, picking up where they had left off. I had survived again! I didn't mind that they burbled on for at least another hour, having top-ups of both coffee and alcohol, I was just immensely relieved to remain hidden.

I had started to doze when I became aware that they were saying their goodbyes in the hall. I felt a wave of relief wash over me, but then I suddenly realised that I had to move or risk them seeing me through the window as they left. I quickly crawled from my hiding place and stood up, relieved that this particular 'adventure' was over.

"Oh, I forgot my scarf, just a sec!" I recognised Yvonne's voice and stared at the chiffon square draped over the back of the sofa in front of me. Oh my God, I thought, she's coming back! I've got to hide! Run! Hide! FUCKING MOVE!! But it was no good, I was frozen to the spot, like a deer in the headlights. I stared fatefully at the door.

And then we were staring at each other, both frozen in place, me with fear, her in astonishment. The moment elongated into something approaching a millennium before she finally spoke.

"Sally?! Is that you?! Wha'…?!" Her voice trailed off, unable to form a question to articulate the confusion and disbelief in her mind. I continued to stand there, not moving.

She opened her mouth as if to call out and attract the attention of the others and, desperate to somehow prevent that, I violently shook my head 'no'. After a few moments she seemed to understand and, scooping up her scarf, went back out into the hall.

"She saw me!" I wailed when Dafne finally removed the gag, "I am totally screwed!"

"Interesting," Stefan mused.

"Interesting?! It's not interesting, it's a fucking nightmare!" I screamed at him. "It'll be all over the village tomorrow, Marion will find out, and I'll be unemployed, unemployable, and a social pariah! My life is ruined!"

"It's interesting," Dafne said levelly, "because she didn't say anything to us. A normal reaction to something so seemingly shocking would be to tell everybody else to come and take a look at the freak girl wearing nothing but handcuffs. But she didn't. There's something going on there… you need to go and see her first thing in the morning and find out what her agenda is. In the meantime, why don't we indulge ourselves with some raw, mindless sex to take your mind off it?"

The sex was indeed raw and pretty rough, the best bit being when I was tied across the bed and drilled by Dafne and her trusty strap-on while, at the same time, Stefan made me deep-throat his unreasonably large dick and then nearly drown in his fountain of semen.

But it didn't really take my mind off what had happened. Even as I was bound in a variety of inventive and strenuous positions, to be fucked every which way, I was obsessing about the terrible consequences of my exposure. When I was walking home at 4 AM in my heels and raincoat, when I hit the shower, when I finally collapsed, exhausted, into bed, I was thinking about what I was going to say to Yvonne to somehow stop her telling all and sundry what a sick pervert I was. I didn't know her that well and had no idea how she was going to react, which didn't help. I could only imagine the worst, and the worst was pretty awful.

I couldn't sleep and, probably looking like death warmed over, I was at her door by 8.30 sharp.

"Hi," I said to her when the door opened, "I think we need to talk."

"I think you're right," she replied in a neutral tone, "why don't you come in. Fancy a coffee?" I accepted gratefully, and we sat at the kitchen table opposite each other, sipping the coffee in silence until I could bring myself to speak.

"You must have been rather shocked to see me like that last night," I began, "I think you deserve an explanation. I… It's… The thing is… I have this thing…" My voice trailed off pathetically.

"Calm down, darling," Yvonne said in a kindly way, reaching out to put her hand comfortingly on mine, "I promise not to judge." I looked up at her, still terribly frightened, feeling reassured by her reaction but knowing that that could all change when she heard the truth.

"Please don't ever tell anyone else this. The thing is… I get off on being tied up," I confessed miserably, "I know it's weird, and sick, but I can't help it, it's just the way I am."

"Don't be so down on yourself, sweetie," she admonished, but in a friendly tone, "we all have our little… peccadilloes. I think I'm broad-minded enough to cope with that. So you like a little bondage, who cares? I'm guessing Dafne and Stefan are into this too?"

"Yes," I said, feeling incredibly relieved at her relaxed response, "they like tying me up as much as I like being tied up! And, oh my God, what they get up to once they have me all helpless…!"

"Oh? Is it a sexual relationship?" Yvonne asked with obvious interest, "what does Dafne think about you having sex with her husband?" I knew I had already said too much, but I couldn't stop myself, I felt that I finally had someone I could talk to about my life.

"Yes, we have sex, and Dafne insists on it!" I whispered conspiratorially.

"Does she watch?"

"Not only that, she joins in! I'd never had sex with a woman before I met her, she's insatiable!"

"Oh my!" Yvonne exclaimed, a curious smile coming to her face.

"I've said far too much, I shouldn't be gossiping about other people like this, that's awful of me, " I chided myself, finally coming to my senses, " You won't tell anybody any of this, will you? I'd be so grateful!"

"Really?" she responded, a naughty look spreading across her face, "how grateful?"

"Er…" I came back with, getting an inkling that some kind of negotiation was required, "what do you have in mind?" She smiled shyly.

"Maybe, given how this conversation is going, I should make a confession too," she said, her cheeks reddening in a blush, "the thing is… there's always a thing, isn't there? The thing is, Sally… I fancy you!"

"You… what?!" I couldn't believe that, having come here to explain my bizarre behaviour, I was now the one who was shocked!

"Ever since I first saw you," Yvonne continued breathlessly, "I've wanted to kiss you, hold you… sleep with you!"

"Oh," I said, lost for words. Yvonne was very good looking, about five years older than me, we'd always got on very well, but…

"I'm not a lesbian," I added, stating it as a simple fact rather than being pejorative or expressing disapproval.

"Oh! But you said you have sex with Dafne. Are you bisexual?"

"No, not really. Like I said, she ties me up and then does whatever she wants with me." This was meant as an explanation, but Yvonne seemed to take it as a serving suggestion!

"So if I tie you up, can I have sex with you?" I looked at her in astonishment and saw the hunger in her eyes as what had been a red face of embarrassment now appeared to be flushed with pure lust.

What could I say? I'd already told her that I got off on being tied up. And the truth was that this strange conversation was firing my imagination and stoking my arousal. Unable to speak, I nodded my head in acceptance of this weird proposal.

"Oh my God!" she squealed excitedly, "Wait right there, I'm sure I've got some rope in the garage!" She dashed out of the room, leaving me to try to take on board this wholly unanticipated outcome. She was back in what seemed like the blink of an eye, holding a long piece of rope.

"This was here when I first arrived," she explained happily, "maybe the people who lived here before were into bondage! Now, how do you like to be tied up? You'll have to guide me, I've never done this before!" That was not a question I was prepared for, and I had to give it some thought.

"Okay," I said eventually, "well, it really depends on what you want to do. But you need to make it tight so that I can't stop you. I need to be helpless… totally helpless…" My voice trailed off as I turned myself on talking about being restrained.

"How did I do?" she asked a couple of minutes later. I tried to free my arms, but they were securely pinned behind me, with the full length of the rope wound tight around my waist several times.

"Not bad for a first attempt," I replied, struggling for release and, satisfyingly, failing, "so… what do you want to do with me now?"

"Something I've fantasised about for a long time," she murmured and, placing a hand on either side of my face, pressed her lips against mine. This was not like the kisses Dafne had forced upon me, it was something much gentler, more consensual and much more erotic. I opened my mouth in response, and our tongues met and slid over and around each other.

I felt her fingers unbuttoning my blouse and pulling it open and off my shoulders. My bra straps were also pulled down my arms and my breasts freed from the bra cups. As I felt her rubbing my nipples until they were erect, I kissed her with increasing fervour, for once wishing that I wasn't tied up so that I could return the attention she was giving me.

"I think we should take this upstairs," she murmured, hooking a finger through the ropes across my stomach and gently leading me through the house to her bedroom.

"Now, where were we?" she asked rhetorically, and resumed kissing and fondling me, much to my delight. We fell back onto the bed and continued to make out like teenagers. After a while, Yvonne knelt on the bed and, grabbing the waistband of my leggings, whipped them off me, along with my panties and shoes, before spreading my legs either side of her.

I gasped as she leaned forward and sucked hard on my nipples, first one and then the other, taking each one, its areola, and half my breast into her mouth and flicking her tongue hither and thither, driving me wild. Again, I wished I was untied so that I could join in but, rather selfishly, I said nothing because I didn't want her to stop.

She planted kisses in a line down across my stomach, working her way between the ropes, until she reached her target, dragging a wet tongue along my fleshy labia.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" I squealed as she used her fingers to open me up like the petals of a flower and explored the hot, damp crevice revealed.

This was not like anything I had ever experienced with any of my boyfriends, a few of whom had approached this as foreplay, a quick warm-up before the main performance. This was the main performance, and Yvonne was a virtuoso! She used her fingers, lips, tongue, even the odd nibble with her teeth, to bring me to the brink of climax time and time again and, just as I was toppling over the edge into the abyss, just as I was about to erupt like a volcano, she would pull me back, somehow moving me away from the intense heat.

I writhed under her exquisite touch, inarticulate moans and yelps coming from me at each new sensation I encountered, each new level of delight she brought to me. At one point, she disengaged, standing up, and I looked up at her desperately, hungrily, silently begging her to return. She smiled down at me warmly before stripping out of her dress and underwear to reveal her beautiful body. Then, to my delight, she got back on the bed and continued to torment me in the most delicious way.

I was amazed by how long she managed to hold back my orgasm but, eventually, it became unstoppable. When it arrived, I bucked and threw myself around the bed, I screamed, and I may well have shed a tear. It was certainly the most intense experience I had ever had.

"Untie me, please," I panted breathlessly, "I want to do that to you!"

"In a while, honey," Yvonne murmured, lying beside me and cuddling me tenderly, "we don't need to rush, let's just enjoy the moment together. Besides, this still feels like a dream. If I release you, you might run away."

"Don't worry, there's no danger of that," I replied, turning to look at her and smiling, "there's no way I'm running away from someone with a tongue that skilled!" We lay there and kissed for ages, before Yvonne idly started playing with me again, running her fingers tantalisingly over my body and delving into my dark, moist recesses.

It wasn't long before she had me screaming out another orgasm. This time, I insisted that she untie me, and I applied all my skills and the knowledge I had just acquired to make her cum just as hard as I had. She said that she really enjoyed it, and I believed her, but I don't think I managed to take her to quite the same heights as she had done with me. Still, I reasoned, I'm just a beginner and practice makes perfect…!

As I walked home in the late afternoon autumnal sunshine, having spent the entire day making love, chatting and getting to know all about Yvonne's past, present, and future dreams, I reflected on how my life had changed so much in so short a time.

Not long ago, I had been just a boring schoolteacher in a boring little village in boring Devon, yet here I was, engaged in a full-blown BDSM relationship, under the control of a powerful Dominatrix. And now it seemed that maybe I was also embarking on something even better, potentially even more significant to my life, with Yvonne.

I couldn't get the smile off my face!

Epilogue


It turns out that that day really was the start of something big. Yvonne and I dated like love-struck teenagers for about three months, before deciding to move in together. To our surprise, the village didn't react with shock and disgust, or try to burn us as witches, but were perfectly supportive and friendly. My school and the pupil's parents also had no problem with me coming out.

Six months later, we got engaged and, a year after that, got married. I'm not sure how, but I was cast in the role of the 'wife' in the relationship - presumably because of my generally submissive nature, and Yvonne's better organisational skills, but that's a bit sexist really, isn't it? Anyway, it did have its compensations - I got to wear the most attractive dress at the ceremony!

Dafne insisted on taking me to Copenhagen on my hen weekend and, rather predictably, I ended up handcuffed naked to the statue of the Little Mermaid, followed by a night in the cells, still handcuffed, still naked. I have to admit, it was a great weekend!

At the ceremony, Dafne was, rather ironically, my Matron of Honour, insisting that my 'something old' should be the Victorian corset she laced me into extremely tightly, and my 'something new' was a chastity belt, the keys to which she gave to Yvonne as a wedding night present.

Stefan gave me away at the 'altar'.

Dafne and Stefan decided to move back to the Netherlands, partly to give Yvonne and me space to begin our married life together, but I think there might have been other reasons as well. We visited them a couple of months later and met their new live-in maid, an eighteen-year-old Latvian girl called Marta, who seemed to fit right in with their lifestyle. I certainly recognised the latex uniform she was wearing, and she rather proudly showed off her steel collar!

I now live a life of married bliss in this most beautiful part of the country. It seems so incredible that I owe it all to my role as Devon Bondage Girl!


THE END