The warm May breeze drifted in through the open classroom window. Last class of the day, and the warm inviting breeze did horrible things to the attention span of every student.

I was daydreaming again. About Ms. Hunter, my English teacher. Long slightly curly black hair hung down a bit past her shoulder, with calm and often friendly blue-grey eyes. She was a bit above average height, with a toned fit body of someone who was a bit of a gym nut. She always wore a little half smile, as though she were always privately amused by a secret little joke. And, most especially for my teenaged brain, she seemed to delight in wearing knee high high heeled boots when teaching. My day dreams often turned towards her in those boots, especially as it was the last class of the day and I was very much done with school at this point in the year.

I was doodling in my book, drawing little snippets of my day dreams which featured boots and (with little shivers at the thought) other leather things I had seen on the internet.

Which were suddenly interrupted by a sharp rap on my desk. I flinched backwards to find her standing over me, one eyebrow cocked and a mildly reproving look on her face,

“Tsk tsk. Drifting off are we?”

I stammered something but she cut me off,

“We’ll discuss your attention span after class.” Titters from a few classmates, and a few sympathetic looks. No one wanted to be kept back with the gorgeous weather outside.

Crap.

I sat in red faced embarrassment for the remainder of the class, avoiding eye contact with everyone. Eventually the bell sounded, announcing the end of class and freedom...for everyone else. I stayed in my seat as the other students filed out, fiddling with my notebook and pen, face tinged pink. Had she seen my doodling?

Ms Hunter paced around the room, straightening a few things, before coming to a halt in front of my desk. I kept my eyes looking downwards. Not helping my situation as they clung to her boots. Crap.

"Let me see."

My head jerked up, my wide brown-gold eyes meeting her attentive blue-grey ones. Her hand was out-thrust, calmly waiting for my compliance. I didn't have time to hide anything. Tear sheets out, erase anything. Nothing.

"Ms?"

"Notebook. Now."

The flush returned full bore and, stammering some nonsense, I handed over my notebook.

I lowered my eyes again, realized that I was staring at her boots, and jerked my head back up to catch a fleeting smile dash across her face. She gave me a glance that I found hard to decipher, and then slowly flipped open the booklet. She held it such an angle that I couldn't quite see what she was looking at, but I knew darn well the drawings that existed on those pages. Randomly interspersed with actual schoolwork, but it was very obvious that my drawings shifted to leather items, boots, and other such things more often than not when I was in English class.

Crap.

I couldn't bring myself to meet her eyes as she continued to flip through it, settling for staring at my desk and chewing at my lip. She perused my drawings in silence, apart from one or two small noises on particular pages. I wasn't sure what that meant, but I was faaaar too red-faced to even consider speaking.

"Well." She snapped the notebook closed and I jumped in my seat. My eyes remained staring at some vague point off in the distance, not raising up to meet hers. One soft finger came down to tap my desk in front of me, and gestured for me to look up. I tentatively raised them, to find an indecipherable look on her face. An almost...considering look, that went back and forth between the notebook and me a couple of times.

She seemed to come to some sort of decision as I flushed a deeper crimson under her gaze, the tiniest of smiles tugging at her mouth before being smoothed out, "I think you need to learn some respect for this classroom as a learning environment. And for me, as a teacher."

She crooked a finger for me to follow and strode over to her desk. I stumbled to my feet and lurched after her, feeling physically and mentally off-balance. She sat down for a moment, rummaging for something, as I stood awkwardly shifting on my feet in front of her desk. I had never really gotten in trouble before with her, indeed with anyone.

She rose from her desk. “Hands behind your back.” Where had that rope come from?

I pressed my wrists together, my breath short and sharp. What was happening? My heart hammered in my chest.

I felt the soft caress of the rope as she began to rapidly wind it around my wrists, and sucked in a sharp breath. Round and around, and then up through the middle to cinch. Tight. Snug. The smallest of moans escaped me. I was torn between hoping she missed it, and hoping she hadn’t. I felt as though I was burning, my breath coming in short little huffs.

She pushed me down onto the desk, “Students who cannot pay attention often need something to concentrate their minds properly.”

SMACK

Her hand came down on my rear, prompting a yelp from me. My eyes just about bugged out of my head.

“We will do ten for not paying attention in class. You will count each one, and at the end you will thank me for helping you.”

SMACK

I yelped again, “Please Ms, I’m sorry I won’t—”

Another spank silenced my plea as I gasped. My hands twisted and writhed against the bonds that held them. This was like something out of one of my daydreams. More blows on my rear came down, jolting me, and I finally managed to force out a “One Ms.”

They stopped briefly, and a hand suddenly ruffled my hair, “Good boy. Finally listening. Nine more to go.” Her hand gripped my hair for a moment and I closed my eyes, once more fighting back a moan that desperately wanted out.

And so they followed. One after another. The briefest of pauses in between to allow my meek voice noting the count, and then the next blow would fall.

At the end of this session, Ms Hunter stands me back up. In her boots she was taller than me by a bit, forcing me to tilt my head upwards slightly to meet her gaze. I could barely do that though, the embarrassment at what had just happened, and my reaction to it, rather fresh. She slid a finger under my chin and, with slight pressure, tilted my head up to meet her eyes. I flushed at this, torn again between the thrill of it and my embarrassment. The half smile was back on her face, her eyes calm and comforting, “you did well. However, I am not happy with how your performance has slipped in class these past few weeks. So we will start meeting twice a week after class for remedial English. I’ll let your mother know.”

I made to protest, but a cocked eyebrow stopped any outburst I might have imagined I could make. On the one hand I really didn’t want to be kept back to study more English when I could be out and about having fun. On the other hand, Ms Hunter…

As I was wrestling with this she picked apart the knots holding my hands behind my back. As the rope fell away I felt a sudden stab of longing for it not to have happened. For my hands to remain bound. Perhaps for hours…I shook my head. Gah. That discipline session had really thrown my brain for a loop.

Ms Hunter allows me to leave. Sure enough by the time I reached home I got a talking to from my mother about paying attention in class, and that she was glad Ms Hunter was offering extra help to buck up my grades. I didn't think to protest or say anything else in my defence. I found I wanted, desperately wanted, to see if that had just been a one off, or if Ms Hunter would...would...tie me again.

I didn’t have English again until the day after next. When I arrived at the class Ms Hunter treated me the same as always. A brief smile of greeting as I entered, and nothing more than that. The class itself, our introduction to writing a fiction novel project that would be worked on throughout the summer to be handed in for September, was a bit of a blur for me. Don't get me wrong, I actually love writing, and getting to write a fiction novel for school credit was icing on the cake. But I had...other things on my mind.

As Ms Hunter went over the project details I found myself taken back to that afternoon, with my hands bound. I remembered the kiss of the rope softly hissing about my wrists as she rapidly knotted it in place. I shivered in my seat unconsciously as my mind replayed those moments over, and over again.

Suddenly the end of class bell startled me back to full awareness. Everyone else masses towards the door, eager to be off and out having fun. I remain at my desk, eyes down. My nerves are such that I have my book back out, sketching with my pencil. I had been doing that for nearly ten minutes before I realized that I had half-recreated the scene from yesterday. There was a partially completed sketch of a boy bent over a desk, the outline of a woman behind him. A raised hand, some sort of blurry implement, spoke to perhaps what I had imagined it progressing to. As I stared at what I had drawn a throat cleared above me.

I flushed bright scarlet as Ms Hunter placed a delicate finger on my drawing, her eyes following the tracing lines. I missed a brief widening of her smile, I was concentrating on trying to melt through the floor in embarrassment. 

“Well I’m glad you are still thinking about our discipline session yesterday. I see I’ve made an impression."

I had no response I could think of that wouldn't add to my predicament, so I opted for the smallest of nods, and squeezing my eyes shut. She rapped her knuckles on my desk,

"Now pay attention." She waltzed back up to her desk, and then turned, leaning back against it to watch me, "This novel project that I'm assigning is going to be a challenge. I want to make certain you have a firm grasp of the concepts and are ready for the summer."

For the next hour she quizzed me on thematic concepts, character creation and growth, and a host of other basic writing concepts. I did alright, though it didn't help that she was once more in a pair of incredibly hot leather boots that she continued to cross and uncross in front of her. My eyes kept drifting down to them, and then occasionally glazing over with half-formed fantasies of bondage and domination.

A sigh from her started me back up from a mental image of a Ms Hunter all in black leather planting a boot on my bound form, "You aren't concentrating properly on this!" She went behind her desk and retrieved a small bag, "Give me your wrists."

I felt a thrill again as the rope once more was wound around my wrists, sealing them away. She sat me down at the desk again once that was done, and then tied my ankles to the chair.

“Perhaps now that you aren’t constantly fidgeting around we can concentrate on the matter at hand.” She began to turn away from me.

“Ms…Please…” I wasn't entirely certain what I was asking for, I just felt the need to ask...to plead...

“Oh of course. You get distracted by my boots." Her hand dipped into her bag once more and brought out...My heart gave a flutter. A leather blindfold. It almost looked like a sleep mask, but the leather of it made it an...odd choice. I drew a sharp breath inwards as it was slowly lowered over my eyes, cutting me off from the world. A faint moan drifted through my teeth, small enough I could hope she hadn't heard it, as the buckle snugged it to my head. She ruffled my hair fondly again, and we picked up where we had left off.

Now though, as the fiction writing questions washed over me, they were occasionally accompanied by light touches. To my head. Along my shoulders. A hand squeezing my arm gently. As though to reassure me that she was still present. I squirmed in my bonds occasionally, but mostly just gloried in the sensation of being truly bound. Time seemed to stand still. All that mattered for the moment was my bound form, and her voice and touch. It was wonderful.

Then, seemingly far too soon, I felt her picking apart the ropes binding me, and removing the blindfold. I suppose I looked rather crestfallen as the blindfold came away. Glad enough that my sight had been restored but wishing that it could have lasted just a few minutes longer.

"How are you feeling?"

I flushed and didn't meet her eyes, "Alright I suppose Ms." I managed to mutter.

She settled a hand on my arm, and gave a gentle squeeze, "Well, you do seem to pay better attention when you aren't distracted with being able to move. Or daydreaming about...boots." She favoured me with a grin at that, and I found myself giving her a shy smile back. Thank God she wasn't angry with me, for my drawings, or for my fantasies.

"I think we shall have to incorporate some of this into our tutoring."

"You...you mean you're going to...to tie me up again?" I could barely believe that Ms Hunter, the subject of so many of my kinky fantasies, was actually informing me she would be placing me in...in bondage!

"Of course." Her voice was sweet, and quite understanding, "I want you to succeed, and if this is what it takes I am quite willing to keep you in my ropes until you grasp the needed concepts." She reached out and brushed a hand lightly across my face and hair, "Is that alright?"

I stammered something in the affirmative, and she smiled at me again, "Excellent! Same time tomorrow then!"

And so it went. Three times a week, for the next three weeks. I would arrive in her classroom and be directed to sit in the chair. Then the ropes. Wrists and ankles, after the first week, were soon joined by further bonds around knees and thighs, and chest. All fastening me most snugly to the chair. After the first week as well, there was never again an effort to teach without me being firmly bound to the chair. Screw ups would result, at the end of the tutoring session, in additional corporal discipline. I would be untied except for my hands, and made to bend over her desk where she would deliver a spanking. I would count each one, and thank her at the end for taking the time. I found all of this tremendously exciting, and began looking forward to these sessions as the best part of my school week. On Ms. Hunter's part, she seemed to feel the same way. Certainly all her smiles, and her enthusiasm for bondage gave every indication of thoroughly enjoying having a bound student at her mercy.

One day in particular, as a special treat of sorts for correctly finishing a pop quiz (verbally answered owing to my bonds), she decided to show me a new tie. She untied me from the chair, while keeping my wrists and ankles bound, and lowered me to the ground in front of her chair. Taking in some of the excess rope, she then reefed me into a snug hogtie, bringing my ankles up to my butt and connecting them to my wrists. She gave my head a quick pat, and then settled back into her chair, busying herself with administrative minutia. I, meanwhile, lay at her feet. Her booted feet. While bound. I was absolutely in heaven. Their leather scent, and the noises they made while she moved this way and that, sent me drifting off into my world of fantasy. When I drifted slowly back I found I had lowered my head to rest on one of her booted feet, while her other one rested on my back. Quite the visual I was certain, and the feeling would remain with me for a while.

Eventually, June rolled around and exam season sprung upon me and all the other students. Ms. Hunter was also busy, administering examination periods and grading the final papers and so forth which poured in. There was no possibility to continue detentions with her. I found myself actually missing it. Enough that I decided, one late afternoon after just getting back from my last examination period, that I would try to tie myself up.

I entered my home with a purpose, saying a quick hello to my mom who was in the kitchen, before racing out to the garage. Half an hour of scrounging netted me a half roll of duct tape, a few lines of rope, and a couple clean rags. I snuck these supplies back up to my room, avoiding the kitchen and main area where my mom was still puttering around. I got into my room and shut the door, dumping my supplies onto the bed.

How to start?

My weeks spent in Ms Hunter's ropes hadn't really taught me all that much about tying up other people, or even myself. I sat on the bed and picked up the roll of duct tape, my heart pounding in my chest. This would be it. This would be the moment my school bondage made the transition to being a part of my home life too. I shivered in anticipation and, trying to be quiet, began to slowly wrap tape around my ankles.

A few rotations of the tape around my ankles were followed by another few around my shins. I flexed against the restriction and grinned. Self-bondage. I was really doing it. While flexing against my tape bonds I grabbed my phone and began searching for some sort of tutorial video on how to use rope on yourself. Finding a useful one after a few minutes of searching, I began to follow along with the instructions of the rigger on the screen. After several abortive attempts to make it relatively snug, and not simply collapse off me, I managed to reef my arms snugly to my torso, with some ropes crossing my chest in a somewhat artistic manner. I grinned as I gave a playful struggle in my bondage thus far, pulling my hands behind me in mimicry of Ms Hunter's bonds.

As I reached for the next hank of rope, thinking about how I could possibly secure my hands in a reasonable fashion, I suddenly heard my mom call out from the bottom of the stairs, "Sweetheart! Could you come down here?"

I froze for a split second, my heart thudding in my chest, before I frantically began now trying to loosen my chest ropes, "I'll be down in a minute!" I called back. Damn it, damn it, damnit! The ropes had become a bit tighter as a result of my struggles, and it was harder to get the leverage I needed on the knots. I flexed, and stretched, and pulled, and picked at my chest ropes, ever so slowly beginning to loosen them. Silently I breathed a sigh of thanks that she hadn't waited another two minutes to call me, at which point I wouldn't have had my hands as free.

Eventually I managed to get the ropes loose enough to wriggle around on my bed and get free of them. For the tape I had to hop over to my desk, where a pair of scissors had been left. I shook my head. I really should have put these in a better spot. If I had been tied up more...

Who knew self-bondage was going to be this bloody complicated?

Conscious of the time that had already elapsed I hurriedly cut myself free, and snatched up as much of the detritus of my first self-bondage sessions and practically flung it into the closet. I'd clean that up better later. A hurried look at the room, and then I dashed out to the stairs, slowing a bit as I went down, trying to calm my racing heart.

As I came down the stairs I could hear voices in the living room, chattering away. One was my mom, the other...that couldn't possibly be...

I rounded the corner and stopped dead in spite of myself. Ms Hunter sat on the couch with my mom. She was just in the middle of chuckling at something my mom had said, one hand extended to pat my mother's leg, a big grin on her face. She looked up to see me standing there, and her grin widened a little. I saw her eyes track over me, noting the rumpled shirt and shorts, the thick socks, and my reddened face. I saw her smile widen just a bit more and, without my mom seeing, she winked at me. I felt my cheeks heat a little, and I scrubbed at my face to try to rid myself of the blush. I thrilled at that wink though. That wink which told me she knew exactly what I had just been doing, and approved of my self-bondage efforts.

"Hun?" my mom's voice broke me out of my thoughts, "Did you hear me?"

"Sorry, what?" befuddled. That was me.

"I said, Ms Hunter has just been saying that you've really seemed to improve with this extra study that she's offered."

I nodded my head firmly, "Definitely! I feel a lot more confident about the summer project."

"Glad to hear it," Ms Hunter said with satisfaction, "I came over to explain to your mom how we've been doing. And will be doing."

My mom nodded. I took the chance to grab a seat in a chair across from them. I crinkled my face in confusion, "Will be doing? But the school year is basically done. Aren't I on my own?"

Ms Hunter shook her head, but my mom piped up, "Ms Hunter has just been telling me that she is looking to do some renovations and fix up her house a bit. Painting, tinkering, grass cutting, all that sort of thing. She was wondering if you might be interested in helping out, and getting paid along with some additional tutoring in fiction writing."

I blinked in surprise, and looked over to Ms Hunter who had a small confident smile on her face. I opened my mouth to respond, but mom kept going.

"It'd be good for you to learn some handyman skills over the summer, and really the money and tutoring will do you good as well." she paused for a moment, "plus, I was going to tell you this tonight, but Dad and I were planning out a trip for a while. I know you aren't all that enthralled with travel, so this would give you something to do while we are gone."

I nodded, taken aback at the sudden shift in my summer plans. But I didn't get a chance to respond before Ms Hunter quietly said, "I think we've really made some good progress, you and I. Continuing as before seems to be a good idea, though helping me out with my various projects will also take up a good bit of your day." she smiled. Practically a grin. Bloody hell it was a damned good thing she wasn't wearing her boots today the way I was currently feeling.

I felt that thrill course through me again, and I nodded. "Sounds good to me then! I really do want to do well at this whole book writing thing. I've got so many ideas!"

Ms Hunter smiled again, "Wonderful! Well, now that we've agreed on that, I really do have to be going. All manner of marking to finish off, but we can start on...hmmm...Friday morning? That was when you were planning to take off wasn't it?"

My mom nodded, "I think that works. We'll still have our phones with us, so if anything happens, or you need to get in touch, you just have to call." The comment seemed directed towards both of us, and we both nodded agreement.

Friday then. I could barely contain my glee at the thought of what was to come.

My last couple of days passed in a blur. I had nothing better to do with my time, and so I was absorbed in fantasies of what might await me during an entire summer of tutoring from Ms Hunter. My sketchbook certainly benefitted from this, page after page detailing half thought out fantasies, sketches of Ms Hunter in a variety of outfits, or even some poor boy in ropes. 

My parents left the day before, leaving behind a list of instructions for looking after myself and the house. Ms Hunter had been given their itinerary so that she could function as a fallback if I lost their details. Many hugs were exchanged, and then they were off on their travel adventure. And I was left to excitedly await mine. I barely remembered to assemble my scattered English notes and books together on the day, so consumed as I at thoughts of what was to be done with me, or to me. I hurriedly tossed everything into a backpack, got my bike out of the garage, and pedaled like mad over to Ms Hunter's house. I almost levitated off my bike once I got there, I dumped it so quickly on the side of her lawn. I took a breath, trying to calm myself as I strode up to the door, feeling shivers go up and down my arms and sides. Damned goosebumps.

I knocked at the door and waited. Seconds seemed to drag out as minutes, and I fidgeted about, imagining that the whole world was watching me stand on her doorstep. Then...footsteps!

The door opened, and the sight of her took my breath away. Ms Hunter stood there in a crisp white blouse, mostly covered by a black as pitch leather jacket. It came down to her hips, complementing the shiny leather pants that enclosed her firm legs. My eyes though were drawn down to the knee high leather boots that were snugly laced up her legs. She cleared her throat and my eyes snapped back up to see her give me a knowing grin.

"Why don't you come in?" She flicked her fingers for me to enter, and I did so eagerly.

She stepped in front of me, and with another flick of her fingers indicating I should follow, led me deeper into the house to enter a small sitting room off the main hallway. Twin couches were divided by a small coffee table on which a chess set had been moved to one side. On the table were a series of leather straps and cuffs, as well as a pair of black shorts. I drew up short at the sight of it, and Ms Hunter gently took my arm, looking at me with a smile.

"You've done well in your intiial stages. But now that this will be one on one, I think it's time we progressed to the more advanced topics. For fiction and bondage." she cupped my cheek with a hand, "Does that sound alright to you?"

I nodded, not immediately trusting my voice to do anything more than croak. Her smile flashed to a grin and she gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Alright then. I will give you some privacy, but you are to change into the shorts I've laid out for you. If you feel up to it, you may then attach the wrist and ankle cuffs I've left out, but do not bind yourself. That is for me." She grinned, "I'll be back in five minutes."

She traced a hand along my cheek and then she was gone. I shivered, feeling goosebumps race across me again, and then looked at the assembled items on the table. Leather bondage. My bloody fantasy, and she was going to give it to me. Thank you Ms Hunter!

I stripped down, taking care to neatly fold up each piece of my clothing, before slowly slipping the black shorts up and on. I rubbed at my arms once I was done, uncertain for a moment. But the leather sang its siren song, riveting my eyes to it, and before too much longer I was slowly buckling each cuff onto its respective place. Wrist. Wrist. Ankle. Ankle. Done. Leather cuffs, on me. I gave a soft moan.

As if my moan had been a return signal, Ms Hunter was back in the room seconds later, click clacking in with her boots. She smiled at the presence of the cuffs on me and then stooped to pick up a long and thick strap from the table, "Come here."

I came over and she reached around me to buckle what was now clearly a leather belt around my waist. She produced some small chains which she snapped into place along the belt. These were then attached to my wrist cuffs, giving me some freedom of movement, but not a tremendous amount. I wouldn't be able to raise my hands up to chest height anymore. Next more chain was secured to my ankle cuffs, giving me about a foot and a half of freedom. The slither of the chain along the floor as I shifted sent a shiver down my back, and Ms Hunter closed her eyes for a moment in front of me, smiling widely at the sound.

"Now then." She held up another piece of leather, this one with a couple d-rings mounted in it, and cocked an eyebrow at me, "Do you know what this is?"

I shook my head mutely, staring at the leather, and at her.

"This is a collar. It will be your play collar while you are here in my house with me." She grinned for a moment as she continued, "While you wear this collar, you are mine. To do with as I will. When we are done for the day, I will remove this collar, and we will go back to our normal teacher-student relationship."

"Uh...um...ok, ah, Ms." I was stammering, and she held up a finger, "While you wear this collar, you will not call me Ms. That is my title as your schoolteacher. While wearing this collar, my title is Mistress Hunter. Understood?"

I visibly gulped, my hands shaking slightly, "Yes Ms."

She smiled gently and then slowly wrapped the collar around my throat. I felt it buckle snugly into place, and then the small snick noise of a padlock. I turned wide eyes towards Ms, no...Mistress Hunter, as she produced a key for me to see before tucking it away, "Your collar only comes off when I say so. Got it?"

"Yes...Mistress." She smiled and ruffled my hair, "Good boy. Now, I want you to kneel down for me while I explain how this is going to work."

I slowly lowered myself to my knees, hlaf expecting this to dissolve in front of me as a fantasy dream. I couldn't possibly be this lucky, could I?

"Now then," she stepped back and planted her fists on her leather enclosed hips, flaring her jacket a bit. God she looked good. "While you are in this house with me, as I live along, you will always be secured in leather. My peace of mind, and yours too it seems." She grinned at my obvious enjoyment of the leather bondage and continued, "Your schedule for today, and for your first few days with me, will be as follows. You will arrive here promptly at eight every morning. You will come inside and change into this uniform exactly. It will be laid out in this room each day. After today, you will be locking yourself into this bondage, including all your other restraints. I will come in to inspect you at quarter after. You will be kneeling in precisely this position. Any deviation will incur punishment before we begin our day. With me so far?"

I nodded, a little intimidated by how organized this all seemed, but still all too willing to go along with her. She was pushing all my buttons in just the right way with her outfit, attitude, and control over me.

"Once I'm satisfied with you, you will begin your chore rotation. Fixing up and cleaning the house, learning those skills your mother wanted you to obtain. I will have a list each day, and that will run you until about noon. At which point, you and I will enjoy some lunch together. I'll be teaching you some basic cooking as well so that you can help eventually. Once that is done, we will move on to your lessons." She grinned down at me, reaching out to stroke a finger along my jaw, "That will be more or less as you've come to expect with me. Tight bondage, lectures, and corporal correction. That should take another three hours each day. At the end of the day I will restrain you in a relaxing position so that you can enjoy some bondage time and destress. And then we shall begin again the next day."

I had been minutely nodding along with all of this, and took a shaky breath as she finished, "Sounds...um...sounds good to me...Mistress."

"That will be your first week. After that we shall...reassess your progress and standing." I waited for a moment but nothing else was forthcoming, so I settled for nodding again. She handed me a small list, mostly domestic sorts of things with little handyman work as of yet. As I read down the list, she tipped my head back up to look at her, and coolly slid a bit gag into my mouth. My eyes went a little wide in surprise, but she just calmly buckled it into place and gave my hair another friendly ruffle, "Can't have you complaining and so forth. Now, let's get to it."

And I did. That first day was incredible. The first time I had really truly existed in bondage for longer than our tutoring sessions. Everyday household tasks became...well, fun. Certainly an interesting feeling one gets while sweeping a hall in leather bondage, under the critical eye of a woman dressed like Mistress Hunter. The day though seemed to speed by, with barely a moment seeming to have passed before we stopped for lunch (a refreshing blend of fruit, bacon, and buns) and I was being strapped into my desk chair in another ground floor room for my lessons. I did well enough to avoid punishment, though I had to be blindfolded part way through as I kept drifting off while staring at Mistress Hunter.

Eventually I was freed from the desk, walked back into the room where I had first put on my own bondage, and looped into a loose hogtie. She placed me gently onto the couch, giving my rear a soothing pat, before bustling off to leave me alone in my bonds. I had been so wound up over the course of the day, with so much flying at me, that in minutes I had drifted off to sleep. I was gently shaken awake some time later by a smiling Mistress Hunter, who had already released me from most of my bonds, save for my collar and gag. These were slowly removed, while she crooned about what a good boy I had been on my first day. This brought a flush to my face, and a lilting giggle to her mouth at my expression.

"Same again tomorrow little one." She gave my nose a flick, then left me so I could change and then leave to return to my home. I was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow, and dreamed of Mistress Hunter.

The following week was much the same. I was bound in all sorts of ways. The period right before and right after lunch turned into different sorts of lessons, with Mistress Hunter walking me through a few positions, as she called them. How to properly kneel when she came in for inspection, how to ask for something without speaking due to my gag, and all sorts of other little bits that altered my behaviour throughout the week. I became more deferential to her, often not meeting her eyes when she walked into a room until she told me to raise my head. She would always smile so gently and winningly at me, that I seemed to almost constantly be blushing whenever she was around me.

Eventually, on the Friday evening that marked my first full week in this unique summer tutoring experience, I was once again in a gentle hogtie on the couch, relaxing after a long day. Today I had had to complete my fiction outline, so the entire day had consisted of my writing, and revising, and revising, and revising under Mistress Hunter's demanding expectations. I moaned a little into my gag, and shifted around. This was the only way to relax, I thought to myself.

A click-clacking announced Mistress Hunter's entrance, and she settled onto the couch in front of me, taking my head into her lap and stroking my head and shoulders softly. I moaned gratefully into my gag, and burrowed my head a little into her lap. I heard and felt her chuckle at that, and she continued her ministrations. Ok, this is the only way to relax, I amended my earlier thought.

"You've done so well, my brilliant little student. So very well." She muttered soothingly, using her other hand to slowly undo my hogtie. I mumbled something in response into my gag, and she just stroked my cheek, gently shh'ing me, "I have a reward for you, if you'd like."

I nodded happily, still with my face pressed into her lap. She chuckled again and then gently shifted me to one side, helping me up off the couch and to my feet. At her gentle urgings I followed her sleepily out of the room, up a set of stairs, and then through an open door off to the right. She left me at the door and walked over to sit on a rather large bed. A great mass of leather, sheets of the stuff, seemed to be heaped in the middle. She smiled at me.

"Your reward little one, should you choose to accept it, is this. You've proven yourself an attentive, diligent student. Of both fiction and bondage. So I feel that I can extend an invitation to spend the night in my guest room. This way we aren't both sleeping in big empty houses."

My eyes widened over my gag, and I began to stutter something, but she just raised a hand, "You will obviously still be restrained. That's what this sleepsack is for. So if you agree I am going to belt, strap, and zip you into this thing, tuck you into this bed, and only free you in the morning. At which time we will then resume our daily schedule. It is completely up to you."

I squirmed at the door in my bondage, my thoughts tripping over themselves, getting tangled, and doing me little good at all. But my eyes were still fixed on Mistress Hunter, sitting there at the edge of the bed. Still smiling at me, but with the barest hint of...what? Tension? No, that wasn't quite it. Nerves? Maybe. Almost like...well I mean, she seemed to really want me to stay. And she had been so amazing at even giving me this chance...

Not waiting for my thoughts to untangle themselves I gave her a shy little nod, and her smile seemed to explode off her face as she stood and gave me a tight hug, "Wonderful! My little trooper. Let's get you settled in then." I was swiftly freed from most of my bonds, minus the everpresent collar, and sent to get ready for bed. Once my ablutions were completed, I came back over and nervously sat down on the bed. Mistress Hunter sat next to me and patted the middle of the bed, where the sleepsack had been stretched wide to receive me. I cautiously scooted over, and lay down inside of it.

She immediately tucked me into it, ensuring I was totally inside, and then slowly zipped up the entire length of it. I kept my hands to my sides at her urging, and soon enough I was being loosely embraced by leather up and down my entire body. I began to squirm a little and she gave my nose a boop, "Not just yet hun, not done securing you for the night." So saying, she then began to tighten the laces that ran up the side of the sack, starting at my feet. After one round of tightening from ankle to chest, she went back again. And again. Making it so that the leather pressed into me from all sides. MOvement within the sack became difficult if not outright impossible. My hands, with great difficulty, might be brought to my stomach, but probably wouldn't be able to make it higher or back. I gave a soft moan, and she brushed a hand over my head, "Still not done hun. Now the belts."

Mistress Hunter retrieved six belts, which were smoothly buckled into place at my ankles, knees, thighs, waist, stomach, and chest. They effectively welded my legs and arms into the one long sheath that my body had become. Apart from wriggling my fingers and toes, I was totally immobile within the sack. At that thought I let out a slightly louder moan, which was met by a plug gag lowered into my mouth. My eyes shot open in surprise, but Mistress Hunter was already buckling it into place, securing the panel firmly to my face with teh plug seated deep in my mouth. She stroked my head as I sucked in air through my nose, "Don't worry hun, this gag is meant to be worn for long periods. You won't choke, and there's even a tiny little hole to make certain you can breathe no matter what. Alright?"

I nodded, reassured at her care. She leaned over me and brushed a soft kiss across my forehead, drawing a muted moan from me, and renewed blushing along my cheeks. She just grinned and gave me another soft forehead kiss, before lightly rising from the bed. She brought a standing fan over, to prevent overheating, and turned it on. She opened a drawer from the nightstand and produced a thick leather blindfold and some headphones which snaked into a small box that sat atop the nightstand.

"Want to make certain you sleep hun, so a blindfold to enhance the feeling, and headphones for some relaxing tunes." I gave another nod, and she grinned again, settling down beside me to fit the headphones onto my ears. They cut me off from almost all noise, I could only faintly hear her wish me a good night, sleep tight, and then the blindfold was snugly fastened around my head. Music began to softly play from the headphones and I...drifted...away...

Later That Night

Mistress Hunter, or Carol Hunter as the rest of the world knew her, quietly opened the door to her guest room to check in. Her pupil, her prized boy, was right where she had left him. Completely and utterly helpless, wrapped up so tightly and thoroughly in leather that not an ounce of him showed through. He was breathing the slow, deep rythyms of sleep, and she felt another smile steal over her face. God he was gorgeous. And so totally, utterly, infatuated with her and her bonds. His expression when she had locked the collar around his neck had just been exquisite, and one that she would cherish.

She slipped into the room, having changed into her soft fuzzy pjamas earlier in the evening. How strange it had been, after all this time, padding about the house, conducting her normal routine, with the certain knowledge of her captive bound and locked away from the world. That she could continue as though...as though nothing had changed. As though he was back at his home, likely dreaming of her, likely getting into all manner of naughty trouble on his own, rather than her captive. Her treasured, wonderful boy. She stopped next to the bed, and looked down at him, marveling at him, and at how lucky she was at him being...well, him. With the lightest of touches, she ran her hands along his bound body, savouring the touch of him. Her mind firmed up as she did so. This would be no single night as a reward for good behaviour. He was so eager for bondage, was he not? Beneath the veneer of wanting to be tutored, and given a summer job, he desperately ached for someone to take control. To exert dominion over him, and mold him to their will. He was so utterly eager for that, and who was she to deny him? Why should she deny both of them what they both so craved of one another? He for dominion, and her for willing, trusting, submission.

She circled the bed, her hands plunged into her pj pockets, almost hugging herself as she stared at him. Why not? Why shouldn't she just...keep him. Just for a few more days and nights. She could extend his stay, without any undue suspicion on anyone's part. Even his. He'd looked so eager to be staying the night, surely if she offered again he would accept. Surely. Especially if the days began to...change. She swallowed, a little nervously. No reason why a few more...ahem, service lessons couldn't be administered. Perhaps a greater taste for...control and service would stir his fires. Would convince him that in fact the best thing for him, for his summer, was to stay right here with her. In her bonds. Wearing her collar. Owned by her.

She reached the far side of the bed, and stood next to the night stand, a small USB clutched in her hand. It hovered above the docking station as she considered one last time. Should she...? But no. He wanted this. That was clear with every move, look, and sound that he sent her way these past seven days. He just needed a little...push. He needed to make the decision, but was far too nervous and shy. That was alright, she decided. She plugged the USB into the small box player, and gave a soft sigh. She would decide for him. It would be alright.

She knew already what was happening within the box. New files were being selected, overriding the calm, soothing music. Files she had prepared for a situation not all that different from this one. Prepared and finished that very day that she had walked over to his house, hoping that he would agree. Now her voice was crooning to him. Telling him what a good boy he was. What a special boy he was. How wonderful he felt wearing her collar. The collar around his neck. The collar that meant he was owned. That he was a slave. Her slave. Her bondage slave. Reminding him of what a privilege it was to have that collar locked around his neck. Telling him he should be proud to wear it. That he was meant to be bound and collared. Meant to be on her leash, kneeling at her feet. That he was, in fact, nothing but a slave. But he was her slave. Her wonderful, gorgeous, perfect slave boy. Telling him, over and over, to submit. To give in. To embrace his slavery, her collar, her ownership of him. That serving her, his Mistress, was his only role now.

She bit at her lip a bit as a soft moan escaped from his thoroughly gagged lips, but he didn't wake. The audio recordings were set to eventually fade back into soothing music towards morning when he would wake. If it all worked properly, he wouldn't ever clearly remember this. It would just be an ongoing part of his dreams, his subconscious. Telling him, whispering to him, of his place with her. After a few nights of this, she shouldn't have to press him too hard to simply accept an offer to stay over and remain in bondage to her. Accept the collar never really getting unlocked and removed. Accept that, really when properly considered, he should always be in bondage. That, eventually, she would be able to say every single thing her recordings whispered to his subconscious out loud, and he would kiss her boots in gratitude. Trembling for a moment she reached out and touched a single finger to the collar around his neck.

Then, in a whisper so soft she barely heard herself, she murmured, "You will be mine, darling."

Epilogue:

The late afternoon sun bathed the world in soft golden light. Carol Hunter sat out on her porch, enjoying the warmth, with a novel held in her lap. One hand delicately supported a glass of lemonade which she sipped at on occasion. She was dressed as any young woman might be on such a fine day, looking for all the world like a normal homeowner. Her other hand rested on my head. I knelt next to her chair, my entire body enclosed in a rubber catsuit. My hands were drawn behind me and snugly buckled into a leather armbinder. That had taken two solid weeks of skilled training by Mistress Hunter to improve my flexibility and endurance so that she could keep me in the device most of each day. A harness or straps overlaid my chest, pressing into my rubber coated flesh. Additional straps held my legs together in a frogtie, while ankle cuffs were locked to my feet for when she would eventually free me from the straps but still require some bindings on my legs. A drum tight hood had been snugged to my head, leaving a thin strip of vision around my eyes. An involved panel gag was locked around my head as well, keeping the penis gag firmly seated within my mouth. The leather play collar had been replaced by a larger, thicker one. A leash was attached to one d-ring, crossing over to where it was looped around her chair. A tag also dangled from the d-ring with a simple inscription: Property of Mistress Hunter

She stroked my head, and murmured suddenly, "We've made such excellent progress, you and I."

I looked up at her, at my Mistress, and wondered at my good fortune. How had I managed to stumble into my destined place so easily? I was so grateful that she had deigned to accept me. That this should change from a summer of tutoring to something...more. I gave a soft moan into my gag. She smiled down at me, setting her lemonade down to take my chin in her hand.

"From the first moment I had your wrists tied in that classroom, I knew you had a deep, unaddressed submissive streak. One that, with the proper cultivation, would make you the perfect bondage slave." I flushed under the hood in embarrassed pride, as I always did when she complimented me, and she gave a knowing giggle, "And now look at you." she gave the leash a gentle jingle, "My perfect little bondage slave." She leaned down to plant a gentle kiss against my gag, and then another against my forehead, "I am so, so happy that I found you. That you were willing to come on this journey with me, little one."

I mumbled happily into my gag, resting my head against her leg. Her hand resumed stroking my head and shoulders, her soft voice continuing, "So proud of you, my little slave boy. You were so brave, taking this plunge. And now, I'm going to keep you. Snug. Safe. Secure. And spoil the hell out of you." She kissed the top of my hooded head again, "All mine."

I burbled happily into my gag. Hers.