This one is something really different. I’m not telling a great big story about bondage where I wind up being forced into repeated earth-shattering orgasms. I might INCLUDE some bondage and some forced, repeated, earth-shattering orgasms. But that’s NOT what this story is going to be about. K? K!
Now I have to back up and explain. This story became an essential extension of the freaking fabulous art by my super amazing friend @Zwangjacket . Z-Jack, I am so fucking lucky to have met you. I’ll never to able to thank you enough for how you are able to see the real me and translate that into art is so many different iterations that are creative and still authentic. I fucking love you Z-Jack!!
But I was on the struggle bus, BIG TIME, coming up with some kind of a plot that involved this series of images. After a couple of days of kicking around ideas that involved time travel and international crime organizations and living comic book characters, I’d actually given up. None of it was worthy of the source material. I even went so far as to message Zwangjacket and tell him I was sorry but I couldn’t figure this one out. But then, my amazing Mistress, @Julanni saved the day with one of her patented “extensive” (but totally NOT excessive) comments under the image. She contemplated how this scene might have played out in real life if she and I had met at a Bond-Con (BDSM Convention) type event. And just like that, BOOM, I had my story premise. 😊
Before I can get into it, I need to back up one more time, a whole lot farther. When I started writing stories on DeviantArt, I wasn’t trying to tell stories at all. I was writing something of a journal of my journey to understand and accept my kinks, my desires, and the nature or who I am and how God made me. I wrote something like 40 installments of the “Tina’s Journey” series, each one dissecting real life events and conversations and thought that I had that have shaped how I live my life and feel about myself. It was some heavy lifting. I wrapped that up around Springtime of 2024, I think. After that, I started writing fun stories and bondage reports. And it’s been a joyful ride.
But I bring up my first works, the Tina’s Journey series, because a big part of that series was a detailed explanation of how I started interaction in social media groups to discover the BDSM community. My explorations eventually led me here. And, swear to God, this community has been the safest, healthiest place I could imagine for me to express myself. And there might be other great places too! And THAT, my good friends, is what I want to get into. When I got started, there was a point where I had several different routes I could have taken. The one I picked was attaching myself to my very first Mistress, Mia. Not to rehash, but that situation eventually ended and after a few other starts and stops, I wound up here. But what if instead of taking the road to Mia (which was such a fabulous relationship and one that I do NOT regret one tiny bit), I had taken a different route?
That “what if” is the story that I’m going to tell y’all right now.
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Here’s what I know. It’s 2019. I’m 29 years old. I have the most boring job in the fucking world. My big old farm is a quiet, lonely place. I need a hobby besides tying myself up and masturbating on a vibrating crotch rope.
Here’s what is ALSO know. I’m not 30, yet. I’m getting back into fantastic shape. I work for myself and make a shit ton of money. My nieces love my but my nephews adore me and think I’m Wonder Woman (I’m not, but I can understand the confusion). I don’t have a mortgage and I do have an excellent internet connection.
My pros and cons list of being Tina is still weighted more on the side of the pros than the cons. Satisfied with my mental checklist, I take another bite of my sandwich (I love sandwiches) and scroll through my inbox.
Delete.
Delete.
Probably a virus. Delete carefully….
“Hello, what’s this?” The email was generated by a Bondage Group I began posting to on Facebook. Who’s this ‘Mia’ bitch and why is she dressed like a cat? No way this pic isn’t photoshopped. Her dimensions are Barbie-tastic. (I was wrong about that one. Mia does a have better-than-Barbie-body!) I read the message out loud.
“Hey Sexy Pants.” Insert a Tina-sized eye roll. “Loved your story. Except for the main character. What a douche. And the best friend, too. That sucked that she wanted to tie her up but didn’t because of God or whatever. Jesus. Your profile says you’re a professional writer. No wonder you’re so skinny. Can you afford food? Actually, your story was pretty derivative. And trite. And the typos. Fuck bitch. Did you put all of those typos in there on purpose for some kind of anti-establishment “the man can’t make me use punctuation,” kind of statement? Because if that’s what you were doing, the story still sucked but I’d respect the hell out of you. Sorry if that was offensive. No wait. Fuck that. I’m not sorry.”
Who does this gimp-suited cat lady think she is? I hovered my cursor over the “Trash Can” icon…but something made me read on.
“But you totally redeemed yourself with the bondage narrative. You’ve got some uncanny technical skills there! You’ve obviously been tied up A LOT, you sexy slut!! No, for real. You don’t miss anything about the anatomy of the rope bunny or the design of the rigging. SHIT! It was like being there getting roped up by Mistress reading your description. You’re the real deal, little one. Write me back. We should jam. Kisses and shit. Mia.”
OK. That was weird….
Oh, hey, Mid Atlantic Leather wrote me back!
“Click”
“Dear Ms. Josephine. Thank you for your interest in working with Mid Atlantic. We proudly provide the finest hand sticked leather products for a variety of uses including cushions for the types of furniture that you inquired about. We would be anxious to meet and discuss your proposal to supply product to your furniture design firm. Although our corporate offices are located in Chicago, we will be attending several trades shows and conferences in and around Central Kentucky and the Ohio River Valley. If it would be more convenient, we would be pleased to meet with you at our booth and discuss in greater detail.”
Yes!! Yes!! YYYYEEESSSSSSS!!!!!
This is huge. I can go from just writing instructions for other people’s “self-assembly” furniture kits to actually manufacturing my own luxury band of hand made furniture, Tina’s Treasurers! I need to get back to the design board and….
…..the email from Mia was forgotten and soon buried in my inbox, as my ADHD mind moved on to other pursuits.
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“Hey Tina, is that a box tie or is that a …”
“Yes. Yes, this is a box tie.” I was standing in front of the table for Mid Atlantic Leather performing an escape demonstration. Like always, a decent crowd of bondage-enthusiasts was starting to form.
“Do you like ropes better? I like ropes better. Is it easier to undo buckles or knots?” The questions from the audience were pretty good. The Bond Con here in Nashville, Tennessee was usually more polite than the one I’d be attending next week in Charlotte, North Carolina.
“That depends…” I twisted my upper body to the right. The strap around my elbows creaked slightly and stretched due to it being anchored by the crotch strap. This also created an half inch of slack in the leather straps around my wrists. “…on how much extra length of strap there is to use to push through the buckle. A short belt is harder than a long one.” I could turn my hands now. I felt the grip of leather on leather, but with the new slack I’d created, I was able to twist. “But knots are hit and miss.” I started hopping up and down. When I did I exhaled to compress my ribs. The straps around my arms shifted down a little. I could go back to twisting now.
“Excuse me Miss Queen of Restraint. But you seem to have inadvertently avoided answering the gentleman’s question.” ‘Queen of Restraint’ was a nickname some bloke from England gave me a year or so ago. It didn’t really catch on. The women with the overly polite question must be a true fan to be using that obscure monicker for me!
“No I didn’t. I answered the question. Buckles or knots. It depends.” I went back to hopping and exhaling. I felt a little light-headed, which was normal at this point in an escape. I managed to slip the horizonal straps down my shoulder a little. That loosened the crotch strap. I felt most of the tension easing on my wrist loops.
“Yes, but excuse me, Miss Josephine. You neglected to address the harder question.” I barely looked up from my vigorous tugging of my arms. The crowd was coming in closer to see my escape better. Stepping up in front of the crowd was the most diminutive, cute little Asian hottie with a nose ring and a Pixie cut. “I believe it was regarding your person preference between ropes and leather?” Something in her voice made me pause. I narrowed my eyes at my inquisitor.
She smiled back at my scowl, totally unphased.
“Please continue your demonstration, Miss Josephine.” I went back to working on the wrist straps as though I’d been waiting for permission. I was having trouble blading my hand enough to slip out of the loop. And I was distracted by this… “But I AM going to have to insist on you answering the gentleman’s inquiry Sweetie.”
That’s when something strange happened. I felt a warmth and a relaxation. My legs were suddenly numb, but I could still feel them. That made no sense, of course, but that’s how my mind was translating my senses. I felt like they were short-circuiting…overloading…
“As for me, well….there’s simply no comparison.” I’d been struggling with my chin tucked down into my chest. I was breathing hard. A bead of sweat crept down my forehead and ran down my nose. “Rope is more intimate. Rope can be shaped to fulfill more specific purposes. Rope can find its way into more sensitive spaces.” I could sense the larger crowd a step or so back but I couldn’t perceive anyone clearly beyond the woman now standing right inside of my personal space. I picked my eyes up from my chest slowly until they tracked onto hers.
“Leather is fast. It’s convenient. But it’s impersonal. It’s cheap. You cut fresh rope every time you use it. There is a cost to using it, if you’re serious. You’re serious, aren’t you Tina?” How did her warm smile make me tremble like this?
“What?” I stammered. She giggled and cupped my chin in one hand.
“You seem to struggle with addressing direct questions, Tina. This is what I like to call an opportunity to improve. A good girl should always desire to improve.”
“I. Uh…” She reach down to my sides and took my dangling hands in hers and lifted them out as if to display me for the crowd.
“Oh look at that Tina. You seem to have escaped your leather bondage. How wonderful.” I didn’t even remember finishing the escape. People were clapping. What was going on??
“I’ll forgive you for not answering the second question, Tina. You’re here promoting a leather business. It would not be fair to ask you to publicly state a preference for rope.” She giggle again. And I smiled back at her and felt a strange sense of relief.
“But for the third time, you’ve failed to answer a direct question. And that should not happen with a submissive of your potential.” Wait. A what? I’m not submissive. I’m a farmer’s granddaughter. We’re not submissive.
“Question?” I couldn’t form complete sentences. The large convention hall felt empty but for the two of us.
“I asked you if you were serious, Tina.” I’m sure my confusion was written all over my expression. “Of course, I believe that you ARE serious Tina. Based on what I have read about you, that APPEARS to be the case. And based on your reaction, your PHYSICAL reaction to me, I’m even more sure that is the case. But since actions speak louder than words, and considering you are uncharacteristically short on comments, we shall have to skip ahead to actions. Come along, now.” She put one little finger through the ring on my collar as she turned to lead me away. But after just one step and a gentle tug that shifted me in her direction, she paused long enough to look back as me and say, “By the way. I’m Julanni. But you can call me Miss for now.”
There was that smile again. My feet led me after her down a quiet hallway into a empty and unused room away from the conventions.
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(A very short time later.)
“As you can see, Little One, I for my part am in fact, MOST serious when it comes to ropes and to using them to make you helpless. Now. I want you to show me how serious you are, or you are NOT, about freeing yourself. Go on Sweetie. Let’s see what you want.”
(Art by @KnotteArt )
TO BE CONTINUED…