Fantasies, Realities

by guardian46w, 2018-09-29 19:15:29

By Edwin Morrow

Illustration by RW Booy

Originally Published in Bondage Life, No. 43, February 1991

Scanned and Transcribed by guardian46w

Story Codes: M/f, bondage, cons, fantasy, roleplay, outdoor, X

Edwin Morrow has been on Harmony’s mailing list for five years now. It’s great to see a long-time Harmonizer contribute in a new way.
His story’s weak spot is its premise: would these pen pals ever really meet? And yet this one flaw is quickly overwhelmed by the allure of the story. This is bondage in real life; the bondage that you and I and our partners have experienced. You’ll find in this tale a truth rarely acknowledged in bondage fiction.

– K.I.

It began, as most human folly does, with words. In this case, they were the words two people had both read in countless books and magazines, stories describing in minute detail the kidnappings of beautiful women by powerful men, stories describing ropes and gags and positions, tales romantic and sexual and extreme.

To Robert growing up in Pittsburgh, the bondage described in the stories always excited him, yet had always been out of reach. He had often tried to bring his feelings about bondage up in casual conversation with the women he had known, yet no matter how he approached it, he could never figure a way to talk seriously about it. Frustrated, he eventually gave up on ever really exploring his bondage desires.

To Tomoko, born and raised in Tokyo, the stories had been real somehow; stories about people she imagined were her. She often had daydreamed of herself tied and – yes! – even gagged, struggling, vainly in her bonds, moaning through her gag for help while some powerful man with dark eyes stood over her. Of course, it was not the sort of thing that a proper woman was supposed to even think about, let alone discuss with anyone. Quietly, somewhat sadly, she filed her bondage fantasies away, knowing she would probably never know how it would really be.

Robert and Tomoko came to know each other only as pen pals, but in some unspoken way each sensed the other’s interest in bondage, though neither could come out and actually say it. Yet they continued to write, and eventually she came to visit him.

Robert met Tomoko at the airport; there, among the throngs of people moving from Point A to Point Z as fast as they could, two people stood motionless; a 29-year-old American man and a 30-year-old Japanese woman. Just a few yards apart, neither one moved, unsure what to say or do, and so they stood awkwardly still as the crowd pushed past them. Yet for all the noise and confusion, they only saw each other’s face.

Her eyes are deep, he thought to himself. I could gladly lose myself in those dark pools.

His eyes are so green, she thought silently. Like the trees in the Iris Garden at the Meiji Shrine.

They both took a few steps forward, until they were only a few feet apart. Robert started to reach out his hand towards hers, when he remembered reading somewhere that Japanese people rarely touch in public. He stopped himself, not wanting to embarrass her, but now not sure how to greet her. He finally bowed slightly (she smiled at that) and repeated the Japanese greeting he had so painfully memorized.

Tomoko tried to hide her giggles behind her hand. His eyes are so magnificent, but oh! What is he trying to say? His bow was stiff and awkward, and his accent atrocious. She was starting to laugh when she saw the hurt in his eyes. He’s not joking, she realized. He’s trying to greet me the way a Japanese man would. She composed herself and greeted him the way that her teachers had explained Westerners greeted each other.

“Hello, Mr. Roberts,” she said in accented English, “I am vely preased to meet you.” Robert’s eyes gladdened and he stuck out his hand to take hers, when they both realized that she had her left hand out to his right. They both switched hands immediately, repeating the error, then tried again, failing again. They looked at each other and Robert started giggling, and so did she. So, introduced, they went to pick up her luggage, and then spent an hour in the airport coffee shop; they spoke only a little, each staring softly into the other’s eyes.

In the week that followed her arrival, neither of them actually brought up the subject of bondage, despite how much they wanted to. Neither could find a way to broach the subject. That weekend Robert invited her on a camping trip in the highlands, and she, having always been cooped up in the city, eagerly agreed.

Their tent was off a small trail in the park, but within a hundred feet of some other tents; the park was more crowded than Robert would have liked, but at least they had some privacy. To Tomoko, raised in the clutter of Tokyo, the forest was huge, their campsite secluded. She fell in love with it immediately. It was not until Robert had started the campfire that she realized she had left her camera in his car. Together they set out to hike back to the parking area, despite the gathering twilight.

“If this were one of the stories I read as a young girl,” Tomoko said as they picked their way across an unlit footbridge, “you would be an evil bandit waiting in the dark to pounce on some lonely woman.” She said nothing more, so as they walked along the gravel road, Robert tried the conversational door a bit wider.

“And if I was a bandit? What would I do to you?”

“You would overpower me, drag me off into the woods...”

“And?” Leaves rustled overhead in the growing darkness.

“You would tie me up. Tightly. So that I couldn’t get away.” She then added, almost as an afterthought, “You would rob me while I was bound.” She brushed her shoulder-length black hair back from her face and looked at him coyly in the moonlight. “I wouldn’t be able to stop you from doing... anything.”

“I see,” he said. They walked on further; Robert tried to keep his voice from quivering at the thought of Tomoko being tied up.

“Wouldn’t I have to gag you? I mean,” he added, “if I really were a bandit robbing you?”

“I would most certainly struggle and scream for help,” Tomoko said softly, almost caressingly. “As a bandit you would have to take precautions.”

“Well then, you’re lucky that I’m not a bandit. You could end up in real trouble,” he replied as the gravel beneath their feet turned into asphalt. She smiled back at him, but inside she was troubled. ‘Is he not interested?’ she thought. ‘Am I not being plain?’ she looked at him again, but the moon was behind them and his face was hidden in shadow; the stillness of the dark around them swallowed up any feelings she might have felt at his being so near. She resigned herself to being wrong about his desires.

When they reached the car, Robert pulled out his keys but dropped his wallet doing it. Feeling around for it in the dark, he gave Tomoko the car keys. She unlocked the door, and when she opened it the dome light came on, illuminating the darkness like a flare. Her camera was lying on the front seat.

As she reached for it she felt Robert’s hands on her behind, and she was unceremoniously shoved into the car and across the cold vinyl of the bench seat face-first to the passenger side. Robert jumped in and closed the door; the dome light went out, shrouding them in darkness. Robert sat still for a moment and Tomoko, face down on the seat and butt up in the air, didn’t move. There was an awkward silence between them.

“I’m a bandit,” he said, almost apologetically, not knowing if he had suddenly blundered, made a hideous mistake with a woman he was falling in love with. Tomoko’s face lit up as she heard the words. ‘A Bandit!’ she pushed herself upright from her undignified position and faced him. She came face to face with her fantasies.

“A bandit,” she said breathlessly. “You... you want something?” Robert relaxed, tried to play the part.

“Your money... your jewels... your valuables, my pretty.” Tomoko sat still, unmoving. Robert was still unsure, but he slid toward her a little. Tomoko began fumbling with the door latch as though trying escape.

“You filthy bandit!” I’ll never give youuuummmmpphhh!” his strong arm encircled her, pinning her arms to her sides, preventing her from opening the door, while the other hand clamped down over her mouth, muffling her cries. She struggled against him as he pulled her back, tried to scream out for help, but the sound was muffled and his grip grew tighter. She had never been so excited before – nothing in her life had ever been this erotic. She writhed and moaned, feeling herself grow hotter, wetter, more delicious with each moment.

Robert also was getting hotter, for he too had never done this before, outside of his fantasies. But he now realized, as he held her in his arms, keeping her quiet and restrained, that he had overlooked a few things. Like what he was going to use to tie and gag her with!

He had a moment of sheer panic; his fantasy of a beautiful Oriental woman in his arms was coming true, and yet he had completely overlooked the need to bring something to tie her up with! Holding her struggling, moaning body, his mind raced as he tried to think of something handy that he could use. Belt? Shoelaces? Tape? Yes! He had a roll of tape in the glove compartment!

It was difficult, trying to hold and gag her with one hand while the other reached around her to open the glove box... ‘Why is it always so easy in the books?’ he asked himself mentally as he fumbled around for the tape. He managed to get the roll of black duct tape out and closed the glove box door. Three times, before the lock caught. He tried not to be embarrassed by it.

Maneuvering her into a position where he could get her arms back and her wrists crossed behind her back was more difficult than he had thought; her struggles, while exciting, were also something to be considered, and he was forced to release her mouth so that he could use both of his hands to get both of hers behind her back where he could tie them.

She was surprised when he released her mouth; couldn’t she scream for help? Or was that what he wanted? She wasn’t sure what to do, so she struggled gently, moaned softly and tried (not too seriously) to pull her hands free from his grasp. He pushed her forward, bent at the waist, so that he could pull her arms back behind her.

He was having a terrible time of it; first he couldn’t find the free end of the tape, and when he did he wrapped it twice around her crossed wrists before he realized he had it sticky side out. Trying to reverse the whole thing only got his hands tangled in it and he had to start over; to make it worse, Tomoko was twisting her body slightly and moaning soft pleas for help in both Japanese and English. He finally got the tape right and quickly wound it several times around her wrists, nearly taping his own hands to hers in the process. The inky darkness and false shadows caused by the moonlight through the windshield didn’t help him any, either.

He gently pulled her back upright against the seatback and the moonlight caught her face; ‘She’s so beautiful!’ he though, as she looked at him and her lower lip trembled.

“I have no money, bandit,” she whispered. “What are you going to do to me?”

‘Marry you,’ he thought.

“I shall take your kisses then, pretty one.” He pulled her to him, their lips meeting tenderly, hesitatingly at first, then they took each other’s mouths with quiet passion. When they broke apart they each had to take a deep breath.

“I must ensure your silence, pretty lady,” he said smiling. He pulled up the tape and tore off a long strip. He held the single strip near her soft red lips and, when she didn’t turn away, pressed the tape down over her mouth. Several more strips of the black tape followed, until he finally succeeded in covering her lower face with the stick stuff, sealing her pretty lips shut. Tomoko’s eyes were closed as she moaned softly through the tape, and she began rubbing her thighs together, wet at the thought of her situation.

He sat back and looked at her, and knew he was in love. Her arms were pinned behind her back, and he could just make out the shiny black tape around one wrist that peeked out from behind her back. Her breasts were firm, the nipples erect and visible in the moonlight as the hard nubs poked out against the fabric of her tight blouse. He reached out and tenderly stroked one.

She opened her eyes at his touch, and her almond eyes were soft over the shiny black tape gag, moist and yearning for him, for his touch. Her long dark hair was slightly disarrayed around her face, and he gently pushed it back behind one ear.

Tomoko was in heaven. Tied and gagged, unable to stop him, and the only thing he does is to stroke one nipple. She shivered in pleasure and moaned at him again, trying to arch her back so that her breasts stood out more. The confines of the car, however, prevented them from doing anything more complicated than simple petting, however, they both knew they wanted much more.

“I’m going to take you back to my ten... hu, my hut, fair lady.” He pulled a poncho from behind the seat and opened it up as best he could. “With this covering you, no one will know of your... distress.” Tomoko began breathing a little faster. “You agree, don’t you?” Tomoko nodded vigorously, then, remembering her part in the game, began shaking her head and groaning through the gag. He tried to get her into it, but they found that sitting in a car and trying to get a bound and tape-gagged woman into a poncho was not something that car designers plan for.

Ten minutes later, Robert had her well covered, and opened the door. The dome light crashed on, blinding them after so long in the dark. Robert got out, went around, and helped Tomoko up. Suddenly a car appeared as if from thin air, its headlights stabbing through the darkness towards them. Robert panicked, and pushed Tomoko back into the car. She tried to keep from falling and Robert, trying to help, fell against her and they both fell back into the car. The car passed and both sighed a breath of relief, nose to nose. An obstacle overcame. He kissed her taped lips and she nuzzled him.

“Let’s go, my pretty.” They started out across the parking lot, then down towards their camp. Someone was coming up the trail, and Robert was smug about the poncho disguise until, almost too late, he realized that Tomoko had nothing covering her tap gag. He swung her around and held her close, pretending to kiss her. The other camper moved on to let them have their privacy.

That was close, he thought, beginning to sweat. It wasn’t exactly what he had imagined a kidnapping would be like, and this was with a cooperative subject. Tomoko too was worried about being discovered, about embarrassing this lovely man who treated her as she wanted to be. She held her head down so that there was less chance of anyone noticing her taped mouth.

Robert mistook her head down as a sign of displeasure. He was determined to make her happy. Yet, even as he turned to speak to her, another car approached with its high beams on. Robert grabbed Tomoko and hustled her off the gravel and up into the woods, then through the trees into a small grassy clearing. The car passed without seeing them; at least he hoped it hadn’t. He turned to her, saw her eyes probing into his questioningly.

“Nothing a good bandit can’t handle.” He touched her face lightly. “I think I deserve another kiss.” She turned her head away playfully and tried to step backwards away from his lips when she lost her footing and stumbled. He reached out for her, missed, and she went back onto the ground with a thud. He tried to pull her up but could only grab the shoulders of her poncho; her hands were still tied behind her back. He got her up to a sitting position, but she groaned and mumbled through the gag incoherently and failing at communication, started stomping her feet.

Something’s wrong, he knew. He knelt down and then realized it, the ground’s soaking wet with dew and so’s she. He hauled her to her feet and felt her bottom, yes, her rear end was soaked. She looked up at him, miserable at falling and getting wet.

“I’ll dry you off when we get back to the tent, okay?”

She nodded, and with his help they started back for the road and the camp. They had not gone much further when they saw the footbridge; dark before, it was now brightly lit and there were several people standing near it. Both realized it would be next to impossible to smuggle Tomoko through those people without someone getting suspicious. He looked at her, sadly, dejected.

“Let’s go back to the clearing.”

When they got there, he pulled the poncho off, then worked off the tape that was now twisted around her wrists; she caught her breath as he pulled it free, he was trying to be careful, and then he started to remove her gag.

No mere words in some story had ever prepared him for the painful reality of trying to remove sticky duct tape from a soft Japanese face. The tape refused to come cleanly and pulled at her delicate skin every millimeter of the way. Yet even in the darkness she knew that he knew of her tears, and that he was hurt and embarrassed. Their walk back towards the bridge was done in silence.

When they came to the bathhouse, she stopped in to look at her face; the tape had left ugly sticky streaks. She tried to wash them off, but soap and water were useless. She had to explain her dilemma to him, and he suggested they try to find something in his camp that might work. In the end, it was lantern fuel that worked the best, and he held the mirror for her as she attempted to remove all of the adhesive. When she got up to go to the bathhouse to was her face clean, he simply put down the mirror and sat down by the dying campfire, unable to meet her eyes.

As she washed her face, she knew of his hurt, his pain; it was like a living, breathing part of him. He wanted to give me my fantasy, not the episode in the road, or the field or the bridge. I even encouraged him. He just wanted to make me happy.

She looked into her slanted eyes in the mirror, and thought of his round ones, we are not that different, you and me. she dried her face and started back to camp.

No one passing by their camp would have noticed the dejected, humiliated man sitting alone before the fire. Tears ran silently down his face and he brushed them away angrily. She was so perfect, he thought. Why did I screw it up so badly? I wanted... I wanted everything to be just right. Like in the movies. Damn, she’s so perfect. And I screwed it up. Now she’ll probably want to go home. Hell, I’ll be lucky if she ever even speaks to me again.

Her feet appeared in the corner of his vision, but he said nothing. He waited for her to speak, to yell, to complain of his behavior. He dropped his head lower. It was going to hurt.

She dropped a length of rope next to his feet.

“I certainly do not need this in the tent. It might give some bandit ideas” – ‘SARCASM?’ – “and I might find myself tied up before I knew what was going on. Even hogtied, I think.” She dropped a long white scarf onto the rope. “And gagged. A good bandit must make do with what is given him.” She bent down, took his hand, and put something in it. He looked at it, uncertain.

It was a key. A handcuff key.

He looked up at her face for the first time. Her eyes were wells reflecting the firelight, illuminating only quiet yearning, soft love.

“That is the key to my heart.” She turned, put her hands suggestively behind her back, and walked over and into their tent. Robert picked up the rope and scarf, then stood up agog and just stood there looking looking at the way she had gone into the tent.

Then realization... ‘I'm such an idiot,’ he thought. Then a bandit, rope and scarf in hand, crept stealthily toward the tent.