by Saruman

Illustration by Dale Vied

Originally Published in Bondage Life No. 56 July 1994

Scanned and Transcribed by guardian46w

Story Codes: M/ff, bondage, roleplay, cons, rope, gag, X

Squirming fitfully, I could feel the rough cords around my knees and ankles under the thick, cumbersome petticoats and dress I wore.  Tom was such a geek!

He was involved in a local role-playing club, and per his usual, he'd gone totally overboard, volunteering myself ("Lady" Samantha) and my best girlfriend into being "shanghaied" by the bandits for one of their extended games.

Amanda served as my lady-in waiting for most games, so she more or less volunteered me also.  So, escorted by one of Tom's drinking buddies, dressed in chainmail, we set off into the forest.  Not long after, three or more of Roger's men descended on us with a shout, challenging our guardian to combat.  He fenced successfully with one, laying him out before the others smote him down.

"Ow, watch it!" he shouted, "you almost hit me!" Then he lay there, feigning death.

A rough-gloved hand closed over my mouth as my wrist was turned behind me.

"Unhand us!" Amanda cried, "How dare you ruffians lay hands on Lady Samantha!"

"Ehh, Lady Samantha?" one of them barked.  "Excellent, you'll bring a high ransom from Sir Thomas of the Hunt!" Laughing fiendishly, they wrestled us squirming and struggling into the forest depths.

"Time out!" I called, after prying the guy's hand off my face, "Where the hell is Tom?"

"Sir Thomas resides in his keep, no doubt," the one holding Amanda replied.

I think his name was Jerry.

"Drop the shtick, Jerry.  I'm serious.

Now I want to talk to Tom, okay?"

"C'mon Samantha," Amanda wheedled, "just play the game like we planned it, okay?  You can get your revenge on Tom later."

"I almost twisted my ankle on a root back there, no thanks to this damned skirt!" I returned hotly.

"Sorry," Jerry muttered.

"Let's just get this over with," I replied, exasperated and embarrassed.

"You've got to get into the spirit of things, Sam," Amanda chided.

"I'll try," I muttered.

"Good.  Time in?" Amanda offered.

"Time in," I responded.

"Come, Brother Ruffian, let us truss and muffle our prisoners, so they will not resist us!" Jerry threw in dramatically.

"No, no!" Amanda shrieked.  "Release me, you foul villain, or you'll swing from the ...  mmph!" Jerry tied a clean white cloth between Amanda's teeth for a gag.  He made it tight at the back of her neck over her shoulder length brown hair.  Whipping out a thin, braided cord, he tied her hands together behind her back.
Amanda, Jerry and the others looked at me expectantly, awaiting my cue.  I swallowed my pride and my anger, submitting to the game.

"Sir Thomas shall not rest until your heads grace his mantle, dogs!" I shrilled, then I too, was gagged.

Jerry's pal Mark folded a linen strap into a broad gag which he then lowered over my mouth, pulling it snugly over my lips.  He tied it in place over my long red hair, silencing any other protests I might choose to make.

I crossed my wrists behind me so he could tie them.  He caught them together in a doubled loop, pulled it snug, then wound the remaining lengths over and around my wrists, cinching them securely before making a tight knot.  I don't think I could've gotten loose if I tried!  Bound and gagged, we were led deeper into the forest, as Damsels in Distress.

They brought us to a small clearing, centered around an ancient elm and a circle for a fire.  Jerry dragged some old wooden boxes out of the bushes and set them by the fireplace, while the other two gathered kindling.

Amanda looked at me, I glared at her and she turned away.  I tried to get into the game, but I was hot, tired and uncomfortable.  The cords on my wrists were a bit tight, but not enough to cut off the circulation, fortunately.  I growled into my gag at Jerry, who turned to us.

"Pray, be seated ladies," he offered courteously, helping Amanda and me sit down on the crates.  The wood creaked ominously under my weight but didn't give.

"We can't risk a fire, not with Sir Thomas and his men lurking about," Jerry told the other two.

"Then how, pray tell, do we signal Sir Roger?"

"Go on foot, fool!  Each of us shall take the secret routes to his pavilion.  That way at least one of us may elude capture."

"And what of the ladies?"

"Bind their legs, so they may not leave this place."

Amanda whimpered through her gag, drawing back from the two men bearing heavy cords.  I tried to look aghast as well as I could, but when one of them started lifting my skirts, I snarled at him!

"Tmm uut!" I mumbled, my gag squelching the words "time out." I certainly was not going to be left here while these fools went off, more likely to drink than to meet Sir Roger.

Both these two ignored my grunts, squeals and feeble kicks with a jaunty, "That's the spirit, Samantha," and in no time at all they tied our knees and ankles together.

I just sat there fuming while our skirts were neatly arranged over our bound legs.  I tried calling Jerry over, but he just smiled and turned away to leave.

Amanda murmured to me; I twisted away from her, mad as hell.

An hour later, we were still tied and gagged, hidden in that forest niche.  I tried perhaps a dozen times to wriggle loose, but I couldn't budge a single cord!

Sometime later, I heard horse's hooves crunching across the dead foliage not more than a few yards away.  I was about to call out when it occurred to me that none of the guys had a horse!

Making his way through the dense limbs was a tall man clad in gleaming black plate mail.  He was helmeted, the visor down; his black shield bore no mark or crest; his sword was slung over his back.  His powerful gauntleted hands drove the dangling limbs aside as he moved easily and directly toward us, or more precisely toward me!

He regarded me at length, considering.  "Well, what have we here?  Two forest blossoms replete with vines!" He laughed throatily as he looked us over.

Amanda stared at him wide-eyed, unmoving.

Easily, he cut the cords from our legs and got us to our feet.  "Come, ladies," he commanded, leading the way.

Dazed and awed, we followed him along the crude trail to an immense grey stallion, saddled and tethered, contentedly nibbling the grass.  The mysterious knight lifted us easily astride the horse, which he then led through the forest at a walk.

We emerged from the arching branches into a vast open area that I had never seen before.  Beyond, perched on a hill was a small keep, its banners flying in the spring breeze.

"Behold!" the knight announced, "Castle Pendergard, home of his most excellent lordship, Sir Gareth of Pendergard.  You are to be his, er, guests for a time."

Guests?  Bound and gagged and we were guests?  I'd hate to see how the residents were treated!

Suddenly, a mass of six armored men astride powerful chargers confronted us!  The leader was clad in brilliant plate armor, his crest was a golden lion on a blue field.  "Hold, villain!  You shall go no farther!"

"You dare intervene on the lands of Sir Gareth?" our captor returned hotly.

"I dare anything for the hand of Lady Samantha, if she would have me."

"How romantic," the rogue sneered.

"Defend yourself, knave!"

"Six against one, is there no honor among knights?"

"No," the silver-gilt knight answered coldly, "your steel against mine alone, to the death, if need be."

"So be it!  Afoot or astride?"

"On foot, that I might litter the ground with your sour innards!"

"It is I who will gut you, dog!"

Steel was drawn and the two men engaged in silent combat.  The metal hissed and struck sparks as they dueled.

Amanda and I looked on, powerless.  A stranger, who fought with excellence and grace, was fighting for me!  I felt warm inside as I watched him hack and slash.  Such romance; such devotion to chivalry, and myself.

Our kidnapper went down with a howl under the knight's mighty arm.

The villain crumpled to the ground.  The knight stepped over his prone opponent and strode toward us.  Lowering me gently to the ground, he freed my hands and removed the gag.

"Lady Samantha," he whispered.

... Someone shook my shoulder, calling my name.

"Samantha, Sam, are you alright?"

Tom was standing over me, dressed in armor and helm, his sword couched, smiling down at me.  I was tied up and gagged.  I had been dreaming.  I had a crick in my neck.

Tom gently untied my legs and ankles, then my wrists, love and concern beaming from his eyes.  He held me close, his cologne melting my anger as his love reached out to me.  Then he removed my gag.

"My hero," I said, smiling warmly, melting into his embrace.

"We've won the day.  Sir Roger and his men are thwarted again."

"Until the next time.  Has Sir Thomas been bold and brave, as a knight should be?"

"Aye, Lady Samantha," he replied wonderingly.

"Then come, and take a knight's reward," I offered, lowering my bodice laces a bit.

"Aye, Lady Samantha!" he grinned, and sweeping me into his arms, Sir Thomas of the Hunt, a.k.a.  Tom Hunt, made love to me in a sun-dappled glade amidst the trees.