by M.O.
Illustration my M.O., 1991
Originally Published in Bondage Life No. 52, July 1993
Scanned and Transcribed by guardian46w
Story Codes: F/f, bond, cons, naked, rope, hogtie, frogtie, ballgag, X
"Oh, please, Rachel, not so tight!," I pleaded. "You promised not to tie me so tight this time! I've never even come close to getting loose."
"Well, I suppose I did promise to make it easier for you this time, Danielle," Rachel mused as she tied and cinched my elbows together, "but I seem to have forgotten. I really am sorry, darling. To make up for it, I'll let you choose your gag."
Rachel was wearing a rather fierce looking play suit consisting of corset, stockings, boots and gloves. The shiny black leather made a most striking contrast with her pale skin. As always, her blonde hair was gathered at the nape of her neck with a large bow.
In contrast, I was completely naked - bound tightly at my ankles, knees, and arms with soft, yet unyielding, cotton cord. I teetered precariously on the bed, struggling for balance. With a gentle push from Rachel, I tumbled forward onto the blankets. She was upon me immediately, joining my fluttering hands and stiletto-clad feet into a snug hogtie. Planting a tender kiss on my elevated bottom, Rachel purred, "Alright, babe, what about that gag?"
In retrospect, it may not have been such a smart idea to spend my vacation at Rachel's country house. My former college roommate had suggested I come out for what had been innocently described as two weeks of "strictly enforced inactivity: It sounded very inviting, as I'd been working much too hard lately. Rachel assured me I wouldn't have to lift a finger during my stay, all I'd have to do was relax and leave everything to her.
It was strange hearing from Rachel after all these years. We'd parted ways after college. I'd entered business school, then took work at a securities firm. Rachel had drifted out west and kind of disappeared. For years I heard rumors that Rachel was studying in Amsterdam, or was a "struggling" actress/model in Hollywood. The latest rumor claimed she'd gone to Tokyo and entered some part of the service industry.
Then, last week, I received a call from my long-lost roommate, and she invited me to come visit!
Our reunion was a very happy one! We talked late into the night, catching up and recalling our college days. It turned out that most of the rumors were true. Rachel had traveled widely, was married and widowed, and now owned this house. After a relaxed dinner and a glass of wine, the old familiarity came back, and it was just like old times.
Our conversation turned to sex. Rachel revealed that in her travels she'd done what some might consider "questionable things." I was pretty curious, since my own experiences had been, well, fairly conventional. When Rachel showed me a book about Japanese bondage techniques, I was surprised, but not really shocked. But before I knew it, Rachel was pulling my arms behind me.
I didn't resist. Soon I was drawn into Rachel's world.
The two resplendent canopy beds were positioned at opposite ends of the master bedroom. Rachel left me on my stomach with my head hanging over the edge of the bed. My arms had been bent sharply behind my back; my wrists were crossed and tied oriental style, high up between my shoulder blades. They were kept there by rope that wound under my arms, over my shoulders, behind my neck and back to my wrists.
I was further restrained by cords that circled my arms and chest. Each leg had been folded and lashed tightly, bound ankle-to-thigh. With my legs spread out wide to either side, I reflected, I looked like a frog about to spring off its lily pad.
But of course, I couldn't really go anywhere. To keep me from falling off the bed, Rachel had thoughtfully strung a web of "safety lines" from the bedframe to a snug rope harness that gripped my breasts, waist and hips. As an additional "posturer aid," Rachel had linked my ankles to my wrists, pulling my torso into a stringent arc. With a ball strapped deep between my jaws, I was completely unable to ask Rachel any of the many questions that were grappling in my mind.
I was dressed in a pretty pink satin semi-cup bra, side-tie g-string, matching garter belt and sheer seamed stockings. My feet were imprisoned by a pair of ridiculously impractical 6- inch high-heeled ankle-strap sandals. I felt indecently exposed, but that was the least of my worries. Thanks to Rachel's extensive knowledge of restraint techniques, I was in a nasty little bind.
At first I struggled gamely against my restraints. I soon wished I hadn't. It brought me no closer to freedom; instead, the ropes felt even tighter. The bed sheets and my lingerie grew moist from my exertions. With my legs tied wide apart and my ankles linked to my wrists, I could barely twitch, much less get loose. I was completely, totally vulnerable. All I could manage was to rock my hips. It felt oddly arousing.
Tied as I was with my head hanging below the edge of the bed, my field of vision was severely restricted. I could hear Rachel's far-off movements on the other end of the bedroom, but she spoke not one word.
Unable to sleep, I spent a good part of the night staring face down, watching my drool work its way to the shiny hardwood floor.
I awoke to feel a spout of drool squeezing from my tightly-strapped whiffle-ball gag. Thus was I rudely reminded of the reality of my situation. Being tied up all night in such a restrictive position can be strenuous. I longed to stretch, but again could only thrust my hips against the bed. I flexed my fingers and moaned quietly, considering the dark pool of saliva on the floor below.
Suddenly, I heard the clicking of heels coming my way. With great effort I lifted my head. When I saw the source of the sound, I gasped, despite my tight gag. Before me stood Rachel, wearing a formidable ensemble. Above a pair of sky-high spiked heels, I saw two tight crinkley sheaths of black patent leather climb up a pair of long shapely legs until finally the white flesh of the upper thighs was revealed. Barely visible were sheer black stocking-tops attached to taut garter straps. Her torso was caught in the strict embrace of a stiffly-boned black satin corset. Persuaded upwards by the corset, her breasts swelled luxuriously. Formal full length leather gloves concealed her arms. Her brown hair flowed softly onto her bare gleaming shoulders. I could hardly believe that any woman could look so cruel and powerful, yet so breathtakingly beautiful.
Inches from my face was a delicate lace panel, barely covering a pleasantly fragrant patch of silky brown hair. I was close enough to taste it, the thought of which filled me with a perverse excitement. I stared, transfixed, until she spoke.
"Good morning, Danny dear. Sleep... ah, tight?" Rachel reached out and tenderly brushed back the hair from my uplifted face. "All night long I thought about you, struggling alone in the dark. I could barely restrain myself from coming over and keeping you company."
I squirmed and tried to speak through the gag. I desperately wanted to be touched, but was not even sure I wanted her to know that.
"Oh, you squirm in such an adorable manner," Rachel smiled. "My, my, Danny dear. We're awfully anxious to get started this morning, aren't we?," she teased. "Now let's see what we can do about your little problem, shall we?"
Rachel untied the lines that kept me pinned face down on the bed, then gently turned me over onto my back. Pressed all night into sweaty bed sheets, my front side was immediately aroused by the cool morning air. This did not escape Rachel's attention. With a knowing smile, she leaned over and began stroking my breasts and tummy with her kid gloved hands. As she did so, her tender mound brushed my mouth and nose, nearly overwhelming me with its musky aroma. Though bound and tightly gagged, I sought to pleasure her as best I could by moving my head from side to side. Sensing my efforts, Rachel reached down, stepped out of her panties and, finally, eased out the gag.
I barely managed to take a breath before Rachel pressed herself firmly against my still-open mouth. Without hesitation I began probing her private recesses with my tongue, savoring the taste.
Suddenly Rachel climbed on the bed and pulled me away from the edge. Kneeling astride my head, she placed tender kisses on my lips, neck and breasts. Beneath her, I writhed with a pleasure I'd never felt before. Tied as I was, I was powerless to stop the passions building within me. All I could do was surrender and accept.
Rachel made her way down my bound torso, feeling with her lips and hands my soft skin, and the rough ropes that imprisoned it. I twisted and strained against the ropes, not to escape, but to heighten my feeling of helplessness. Grinding my wrists and ankles against the cords, I knew I was held fast, and I reveled in it.
When Rachel reached my panties she untied the satin ribbons holding them in place. She eased her full weight on my writhing body. Prevented from closing my legs by the wickedly clever bondage, I awaited the final, most intimate kiss. Rachel soon began, exploring with her skilled lips and tongue that private place where no woman had been before. I placed my mouth upon her in turn, returning the pleasures. Before long, the two of us, each held by lover's bonds, shuddered as waves of pleasure washed over us.
Finally, spent, we collapsed... sharing dreams of love and restraint.
"Danny, sweet Danny," whispered Rachel, waking me, "I have to untie you now. If I don't, you'll be very, very sore. I began to protest, but she silenced me with a kiss. "Don't you worry, Danny my dear, there'll be time enough later, after you've rested."
I looked down at myself, finally free after my night of bondage. Having command over my own body felt strangely unfamiliar after being so intimately controlled for so long. Instead of ropes, my skin was marked by a web of red lines, reminders of a wonderful journey with my lover and friend.
"Rachel," I said, "promise me you'll tie me again soon. But before you do," I added, picking up a length of rope, "It's my turn."
The End