by Jeff Sinclair
Illustrations by Tarsis
Originally Published in Bondage Life No. 41, August 1990
Scanned and Transcribed by guardian46w
Story Codes: F/m, D/s, cons, bond, suspend, ropes, games, sex, oral, X
It was a cold and damp Thursday afternoon. Low clouds were clinging to the hilltops above the quiet streets. Thomas Caldwell was on his way home early.
As he rolled quietly into the driveway of his small Cape Cod house, he noticed his wife’s silver mini-van, with their skis in the roof rack, parked unusually close to the garage. On his way into the house, Thomas saw that the rear hatch was open and the luggage area was empty.
Thomas, a 27-year-old engineer, was known as a studious, reliable worker. He was of medium height, slight of build, wiry but solid and athletic. His sandy brown hair was combed back away from light brown eyes and his angular, mildly intense face.
He fumbled with his keys to open the garage door into the kitchen. The anticipation of a weekend of skiing make him rush up the stairs to the bedroom. The bathroom door was closed. ‘Andrea must be in there,’ he thought as he entered the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, he suddenly realized that the skirt and sweater lying next to him were not meant for his wife!
His momentary confusion was interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door. In everyday life, Andrea Caldwell was not an obviously beautiful woman. She was tall, as tall as her husband, and had a lithe, athletic figure. She appeared to be a quiet, conservative, even shy person with a mysterious lack of outward expression. She wore bland, almost frumpy clothes at the office. Thomas never minded the smallness of her breasts, preferring her long husky legs and her face. To others it was a sad, distancing face. But he had fallen in love instantly with her soft yet serious features; the innocent brown eyes and pointy nose. For Thomas, it was the face that launched ‘a thousand ships’ of desire. To top it off, she had a beautiful bowl of silky, straight brown hair which fell around her face to just above the shoulders. To Thomas she was a shy school girl, an ice queen, and an engaging lover.
She stood before him in the doorway with her finger stroking her chin.
“I thought you might like to mix pleasure with pleasure this weekend,” she said with a sly little smile. “You know, skiing… and a little bondage.”
She was wearing a tight, turtleneck sweater, black leather mini-skirt and 4-inch pumps with legwarmers wound around her calves. She strode with an air of confidence to her dresser and threw on her black ski parka. As she flipped her hair outside the collar she spoke matter-of-factly.
“I’ll get the van started while you get dressed. Okay, dear?”
Thomas nodded with a glimmer of excitement brightening his features.
“I’ll be back,” she said, “…with the rope.”
When Andrea returned to the bedroom her husband was dressed more like one of her girlfriends. He was just sliding a soft, grey V-neck sweater over a black bra filled with life-like silicone inserts. A knit black mini-skirt rode snugly over dark grey pantyhose.
Andrea watched with an amused smirk as he slipped into his own pair of 4-inch black pumps.
“Don’t bother with any make-up dear,” she said. “No one’s going to see you between here and New Hampshire.”
“I thought we were supposed to be going skiing this weekend,” Thomas returned with a nod of perplexity.
“Oh, we will, my love. But you always said that great skiing should go along with great sex. I thought I’d throw you a little… curve. To see just how great a trip this can be.”
She moved closer and kissed him lightly. He stood stiff, a little nervous, before her. He loved her bondage games and playing out imaginative scenes in the secure confines of their bedroom. But they had never taken any ‘kinky’ scenarios outside the house.
"Turn around,” she whispered. “This weekend you’re mine,” she said with calm assurance. As she wound a length of white rope around his wrists she went on, “Maybe next time I’ll let you take me prisoner, to the chalet, maybe.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow at that thought but he quickly returned his attention to the current situation. His hands were cinched behind him now. Andrea picked up a small length of cloth and rolled it into a ball. She positioned it carefully in his mouth and secured it with two strips of black tape. She then looped a dog leash around his neck and began to lead him out of the bedroom.
“Don’t worry, Tommy. I’ve packed a nice selection of clothes for you and I’ve got plenty of rope. I’ll try to make you comfortable for the ride. But, no promises.”
Once out into the garage, she locked the door behind them. Thomas felt his heart start to pound as the two sets of high heels clicked across the concrete floor. He knew now why the rear hatch had been left open so near to the garage door. Andrea stopped him, removed the leash and playfully patted him on the cheek.
“In you go, big boy.”
As he slid into the rear of the van, she grabbed his ankles and quickly tied them. She rolled him briskly into his stomach. Yanked the ankle cinch rope, threaded it through his wrist tie and pulled him into a taut hogtie.
“I know it’s your favorite position,” she purred. “Enjoy the ride!”
With that she slammed the hatch and locked the garage door. As he listened to her heels clatter across the drive and climb into the driver’s seat he tugged on the rope. He knew right away that he was securely tied. To be bound and gagged by a beautiful woman is one thing. But to also be dressed as woman and tucked in the back of a van! And then to be spirited off to a mountain lair for a weekend of service. This was a bit beyond belief. Thomas felt as if he should pinch himself. A dream? No, the ropes which encircled his limbs were all too real. As the van pulled out of the driveway, he pictured the calm smile which was probably crossing Andrea’s face. This was a dream.
At about eight that evening, Andrea turned off the main two-lane road onto a narrow, twisting side road. The northern New Hampshire frost had left the partially paved road very bumpy. The jouncing stirred Thomas who lay on his side dozing, still bound and gagged. He realized that she was guiding the van up the final winding turns to the chalet. The road became all dirt about midway along a ridge overlooking a small mountain lake. A number of A-frames and small ranch-style lodges were nestled among the evergreens at well-spaced intervals. Thomas’ jaw and limbs were aching but the anticipation, the combination of fear and excitement, swiftly returned.
About halfway along the ridge, Andrea turned into the steep, unplowed driveway of the Hesslinger chalet. After taking a couple of runs at it, she final reached the front of the house. She rushed inside to turn on some lights. As she kicked off her pumps and pulled on a pair of snow boots, she was wondering if the Hesslingers (old family friends of the Caldwell’s) had ever used the chalet in the way she planned for this visit. As always, she was glad to be able to rent this house for a fun weekend. But now she felt a rush of pride and naughtiness come over her. This wave of energy filled her with a kind of thanks for her own ability to occasionally take charge sexually. She loved her husband and had spent the last four hours scheming about what to do with him over the next three nights.
When she opened the rear hatch, Thomas felt the cold northern air fresh into the warm van. Andrea threw a pair of snow boots and a parka in with him and began working on the knots.
“I’ll give you a half hour to unload the van and build a nice fire. I’ll see if I can cook up a little dinner for us, okay?”
Thomas nodded as she removed the gag. It was nice to be able to stretch again. He threw on the parka and set about the chores. He was not even conscious of taking his wife’s direction. He had slipped into this other reality, this other role, completely. But he did know it was all for her pleasure. His pleasure would be the fortunate byproduct of his wife’s desires.
Up the stairs from the basement entry, the chalet had a large living, dining, kitchen area which looked out through the A-shaped glass toward the lake. A large fireplace chimney stood in the center of the glass and there was a sunken floor area of about 10x10 feet directly in front of the hearth. At the rear, there were two small bedrooms and above, a large loft which looked down on the living area.
When Thomas had gotten his fire going, he wandered over to the kitchen area.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked.
“Oh, well, nothing for you just now, dear,” she said apologetically. “You see, I’ll be eating first and then, if you earn it, and I do mean earn, I’ll let you have some later.”
She paused, removing a dowdy looking apron. She still wore the leather skirt and Thomas could not help gazing at her calves which were slightly too large anyway, but now accentuated by the high heels and being hugged by the smooth, black nylon. She picked up a chair from the dining area and placed in it the sunken area just in front of the fire. She did intend to play with the fire, Thomas thought. He guessed he would be tied in the chair for a good long while.
“Over here, sweetie,” she called. “And get that sweater and skirt off, now.” Her voice lowered a bit. “Come on, you’ll be plenty warm when this fire really gets going.”
Once he stripped down to bra, pantyhose and heels, she again bound his wrists, this time in front.
“Stand on the chair, Tommy,” she ordered.
He obeyed, though again becoming disoriented. It was a bit tricky to balance on the chair in high heels with his hands tied. He loved her inventiveness but hated not knowing what she would do. She went to a large nylon gym bag and pulled out a long length of heavy one-inch wound rope.
“Where did you get that?” he asked, the trepidation clear in his voice. He was trembling now with anticipation.
“I made a quick run to the hardware store this morning,” she said in that agonizingly, matter-of-fact tone. “I’ve got lots of surprises planned for you on this trip, darling.”
She looped the heavy cord through his wrists and tossed the slack end over the main beam which ran from one side of the ceiling to the other. She pulled the rope slowly and carefully over the beam until his arms were straight up. She threw the slack end over the beam again and tried to work as much slack out as possible. Finally, she tied off the loose end around a heavy post at the base of the loft stair railing.
Thomas tried to look behind but couldn’t quite follow her actions. He could feel the warming heat of the fire but it was soon blocked by Andrea standing on the chair with him. Wearing only his bra and hose, he could feel the leather and wool of his wife’s clothes as she tied a strip of black spandex over his eyes. She opened his mouth, filled it with another ball of cloth, and secured it with another strip of plain spandex. Thomas tried to keep a grip on reality. He wasn’t sure he could take being hung by his wrists and wondered if she would react to their prearranged ‘problem’ signal (a two-fingers ‘victory’ sign). She hugged his waist and ran a hand down over his nylon covered thigh. She kissed his left ear and felt for his erection which she knew would be forcing itself down one thigh.
While gently stroking him through the nylon she whispered, “Be a good boy, a very good boy, and I might have to let you have me on your favorite imitation bearskin rug. But later… later…”
She got down from the chair and gently worked it out from under Thomas’ feet, leaving him dangling a foot or two above the floor. With two more lengths of rope she tied each ankle to a leg of one of the two couches angled toward the fireplace. Now she had him spread, suspended by the wrists and with a touch of sweat breaking from the strain and the heat of the fire.
As she sat down to eat her pasta and salad, Thomas focused on the tension of his wrists and inner thighs. The beam creaked from his twisting struggle. She had set alight his animal lust and desperate passion for her. He was lost in a blizzard of emotions, almost unconscious, but raging with desire. Andrea sat eating calmly, taking little notice of her husband, his legs straining, his ‘breasts’ heaving. She had established control (even if the whole point was to someday trade predicaments) and would now relax and enjoy it. The physical act of sex was perhaps not the ultimate enjoyment for her. But in combination with one of their love games, it could usually be good for a mildly earth-shattering release.
“Okay, servant,” Andrea said sharply. “You can come down now. I hope you’re sufficiently aroused to be of some use to me.”
As she unfastened his ankles and placed the chair back under him. Andrea reminded him that she could always leave him tied up and enjoy herself with the ‘magic’ vibrator. She removed the gag and blindfold and gave him a long, deep kiss. When his eyes opened, she was staring into them.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she said.
“Oh, …me too!” Thomas said sarcastically, as if it were perfectly normal to be hung by the wrists in bra and pantyhose.
Andrea unfastened his wrists and Thomas half-collapsed onto the imitation bearskin rug lying before the fire. She unhooked the bra, and slid the pumps off his feet, and peeled off his hose, which were soaked with sweat. For a few lingering moments she massaged his legs while Thomas rubbed his wrists. Andrea quickly slipped out of her clothes and came up behind her reclining husband. She began by kissing his neck and worked slowly down across his chest. Her hands slipped around his thigh and Thomas began kissing her stomach as she passed above his face. He reached above his head and gently but firmly grasped her rear. He pressed her sex closer to his face as her lips began to surround his erection. Now they clung tightly together. He was almost painfully hard with lust and she was wet from days of anticipating her husband’s capture. They disappeared together into these few long moments of intense, blissful union. The ‘earth-shattering’ orgasm that Andrea had planned hit quickly, for both partners, nearly coming together. Thomas lay motionless as Andrea pulled another large, furry blanket over them. And they fell into the haze of sleep.
Bright sun streaming into the tall windows woke Thomas at about 7:30 the next morning. He felt stiff and a little sore, but very content. He rolled over to see Andrea happily stretching and doing her calisthenics. She wore a bright red, long-sleeve, wrap around leotard and shiny, Lycra tights. She noticed his stirring and stopped stretching her legs. The fire had died and the chalet was quite chilly. She looked down at him with a quizzical, affectionate smile, wondering at their good fortune.
“You did well last night, Tommy. I’m very pleased. But we still have two more nights to go.”
She reached into her suitcase and produced his underwear for the day’s skiing.
“Let’s get in the shower, dear. You want to get up the mountain before lunch, don’t you?”
She dropped the mall bundle without ceremony on his face. There was a bright blue turtleneck leotard and his own pair of Lycra tights.
“The slopes shouldn’t be too cold, today,” She went on. “But I do want you to stay… hot. And don’t for a minute forget who the boss is this weekend.”
“How could I, darling?” he asked with a lazy yawn. “Okay to take a shower now, boss?” he asked with a mocking expression.
“Just be quick about it,” she snapped playfully.
When he reappeared from the bath, Andrea stepped quickly in front of Thomas and they melted into a deep embrace, kissing almost like it was their first. She brushed one of her thighs up and down his Lycra-covered leg. He wanted to tear off her clothes and drive himself inside her right then.
“Easy, dear,” she said a little nervously. “Save your strength. You’ll need every bit of it… on the mountain.”
With that she gave him another mischievous smile and sat down to a large bowl of cereal.
The skiing that day was nearly perfect for the northeast, sunny with a deep blue sky. About two inches of new snow had fallen overnight and the temperature climbed from the low 20’s to the low 30’s with only a slight breeze. By 2:30, the Caldwells had all the skiing they could have wanted. Andrea was driving back to the chalet when Thomas tried to find out what she had in store for him this night.
“I thought you might tie me up right there in the parking lot,” he said.
“Don’t be silly, I’m not interested in public humiliation for goodness sake.” She sounded very surprised. “I love you, and I want us to be satisfied as lovers, but I think I can employ the right amount of discretion. You… are my private slave.”
“So, what discrete charms have you in mind for tonight?”
She thought for a moment, a sly smile appearing as she drove.
“I can’t tell you,” she said. “That would spoil our fun. No, you’ll just have to stick around and find out first hand.”
Thomas sat patiently on the couch, having started the fire. Naked, shaved and cuffed, he watched the hypnotic dance of the flames. After a short while, he heard Andrea approaching from behind.
“More delicious predicaments for you, lover,” she purred, stroking a nail across his chest.
He turned his head and almost wondered if it was really his wife. She had applied much heavier make-up than he could remember seeing. This gave her face a severe, detached look, cold and certainly domineering. The real surprise was her outfit. She wore a backless, sleeveless leotard in black leather with a built-in collar and a nylon-mesh, diamond shaped window between her breasts. She wore black fishnet tights and black pumps with 5-inch heels. Long black gloves ran up her arms almost to the shoulders. He had never seen this look. Thomas became almost instantly erect at the sight of her.
He remained seated, afraid to move, as she towered over him, staring down.
“How do you like it, dear?” she motioned to her shiny new leather. “I had it made just for you.”
“Honey, I love it so…”
“Who?” she cut him off.
“Mistress Andrea, I’m sorry.”
“That’s better, slave,” she snapped. “Now, to make you a nice little female slave.”
She pulled his hands over his head and secured them with a short rope tied back to a couch leg. She had a small box which he knew contained his make-up. For the next half-hour she lingered over his face, carefully trying to give him a pretty look. He sat quietly while she worked, trying to stay in control. After finishing the last touch of scarlet lipstick, she rose and packed the supplies back into the box. She led him by his cuffed wrists back to the bathroom and placed a medium length auburn wig on his head. She then outfitted him in black lingerie, stocking and heels. After releasing the ‘lady’ from the cuffs, she handed him one of her dresses, a royal blue sweater-dress that hugged Thomas’ figure and fell just above his knees.
“You’ve done very well for yourself, young lady,” Andrea said while playing with his hair. She then gave him a playful hug as they stared into the mirror.
“thanks a lot,” he said, a bit disgruntled. Then as a cross look appeared on Andrea’s face he said sincerely, “Thank you for making me so pretty, my love.”
“Yeah, maybe too pretty for a love slave. But you’ll make a beautiful, ah, centerpiece.”
She led him into the dining area and placed him on his stomach atop the table. She tied his wrists in back and then used a long rope around his shoulders, wound above and below his breasts. She connected his wrists to this cord and pulled them into a tight hammerlock. Next, she roped his ankles, knees and upper thighs, knowing that Thomas found the rope around his thighs particularly enjoyable. She topped it off with one last cord pulling him into a tight hogtie by connecting the tightly cinched ankles to the hammer locked wrists. She sat relaxed at the head of the table for a long moment and admired her wriggling ‘girlfriend’.
“We won’t bother with a blindfold or gag, honey. I want you to watch your mistress eat and I know you’ll be quiet.” She took his chin in her thumb and forefinger. “You know what happens if you make any noise.”
He nodded, not really sure what she meant. She had really surprised him with the meticulous transformation and the tight tie-up. In fact, the whole weekend was becoming almost disconcerting to Thomas. As Andrea fixed her dinner, he wondered if maybe he had ever really known her. She had never before been so dominant nor had she ever lashed him so tightly with her ropes.
After dinner (he had been bound on the table for over an hour) she untied him and removed the dress and his slip. Again, his wrists were bound in front and she led him down into the basement. It was cool in the basement, if not cold. She stood him beneath a beam just outside the door of the whirlpool room. Once again, knees and ankles were tied, making it difficult for Thomas to balance in his four-inch heels. Andrea then doubled a long piece of rope and wrapped it around his waist, looping the open ends through the closed end. She pulled it tight around the waist and fed the loose ends down around the slight bulge in his panties, through his crotch and up through his rear end. She looped this rope through a ring bolted to the beam and tied the loose ends to his wrist ropes, pulling his wrists overhead. After working out the slack, the ‘heroine’ was left dangling from the beam. Thomas could ease the tension on his arms by standing on his toes, but that tightened the ropes around his knees. If he eased the tension on his legs, the crotch ropes pressed in and his wrists strained.
“Comfortable”” she laughed.
“Not really,” he shot back.
Thomas’ erection was now straining against the panties, held down by the crotch ropes. He moaned slightly. He could tell she enjoyed his situation. He guessed she must be escaping into the release of her role in much the same way as he. She stood motionless as he squirmed. Soon he was exhausted and defeated, still teetering on his high heels.
“Well,” she sneered, “Isn’t this refreshing, my pretty love toy?” now sternly she said, “Do you think you’ve had enough? Good.” She didn’t let him answer. “It’s time for me to relax a bit more in the tub… but don’t look so surprised, honey. This is hard work, keeping you amused. You’re having all the fun.”
She disappeared into the room and he could hear the whirlpool start up. He pictured her naked thighs sinking into the hot, swirling bath. Thomas’ own mind was swirling, again caught in the storm of love, lust, anger and sexual tension. He tested the rope around his wrists, earnestly thinking of escape. But Andrea had done too good a job. The knot was almost unreachable and without any leverage, it would not budge. Thomas tried to wriggle into a more comfortable position but all the struggling against the tight ropes only made things worse. He flashed back, seeing her curving, fishnet thighs stalking around him, with the leather ‘V’ tucking into her crotch. He saw her plant a high heeled pump and flick the finger against his thighs, and the sweaty, nylon mesh diamond between her breasts. Her hair, a bouncing bowl as she circled was a perfect frame for her imperious, arrogant stare. It was an eternity before Andrea emerged, naked, with only a towel draped over her shoulders. He hoped against hope that she would allow him into the soothing bath.
She stood in front of him for a moment, silent. Then she began kissing and caressing his bound legs, working her way up into his torso. She held him tightly around the waist and looked up into his eyes.
“Are you ready to make love?” Her voice was now very sweet and trembling with excitement.
He nodded vigorously, unable to speak with all the tension.
“Good… excellent…” she whispered.
She quickly untied him, leaving the wrists bound. She had put his panties on over the garter belt so now she was able to simply peel them off. She led him up the stairs, towing him with one hand around his rampant erection. She laid him down in front of the hearth, still in bra, garter, stocking and heels with his face and wig a bit disheveled.
Andrea rekindled the fire and added some wood to the fading embers. She untied his wrists and wiped the lipstick from his mouth. She straddled his hips and quickly took him, her insides now on fire. Although in a daze, her husband instinctively thrust into her. Her enthused moans roused hm and he pulled her down on top of him, their chests touching.
Andrea was driven by the shock, thrill and embarrassment of the scene. She could feel the mind-bending moment approach as her breasts tingled across the lacy nylon of Thomas’ bra. They disappeared again into each other in a long, probing kiss. They both were semi-conscious of the vision, the appearance of two women screwing by the hearth. As the mouths parted, they each had a ripping climax, Andrea first, then Thomas, their juices flowing and mixing. Her mind spun off into some other world while Thomas shuddered through his own, falling quickly back into a dark, warm void, exhausted.
It was Saturday night. Thomas and Andrea had enjoyed a relaxing last day on the slopes. They’d taken things easy with just a few relaxing runs. Some light snow began to fall after lunch. Thomas had anticipated a relaxing night, but then nothing this weekend had gone according to his expectation.
Once again Thomas found himself immobilized in front of the hearth. Andrea had begun with a loose hogtie, her husband’s wrists loosely joined to his ankles with a strand of rope wound once between the wrists and ankles and the ends knotted to form a loose band.
Andrea had then positioned him on his stomach. She tossed a long length of rope over the beam from which he had dangled during their first night. She connected this to the strand between his wrists and ankles, hauling it up, as always taking care to remove the slack completely. Now his shoulders and thighs were lifted from the floor and his back arched, his whole body forming a taut bow.
The tension must be delicious, Andrea thought. She had really created a tight spot for him this time, but she knew it was only safe for a short while. She finished by blindfolding his pleading eyes that were also smoldering with passion. She left her naked husband and raced to change her clothes.
Thomas was starting to sweat from the tense strain and the heat of the fire. He could not remember being tied like this, the bondage itself seeming to fill him with desire. He tried to struggle but could do no more than rock slightly back on his hips. The sensation of being tied so tight was made more intense by the blindfold. He hated not being able to see her. After all, one of the rewards of bondage was to see his wife in her stockings and heels or whatever other wardrobe items she might feature.
Suddenly, Thomas could hear the swishing sound of her shoes sliding across the carpet. He could smell a leather shoe close to his face.
“Kiss it, lover,” she commanded.
He lovingly strained to worship her foot, soon discovering a silky stocking inside the leather. His tongue began to dance across the nylon. The tension was electric. The ropes held him and yet he tensed in anticipation of her next move.
“You’ve been a very good bondage-mate this weekend,” she purred.
“Thank you, Andrea…” He forced the words out.
“Oh, poor baby. Did I tie you up too tight? You look so sexy, Tommy.”
She knelt down beside him, fingers gliding over the tense muscles. She again felt a wonderful moment of power and joy. His moaning now seemed involuntary. Her feelings of love swept over her like a hot blanket. Thomas didn’t know it, but she was naked except for a black garter holding the stockings, and her heels.
She sat in front of him. She brushed her shoes past his cheeks, for a moment digging her heels into his shoulders. She slid closer. Her stocking knees rubbing across his ears. She was on her back now, edging closer to him. She closed her thighs tightly around his head.
Thomas was on remote control. His tongue immediately plunged into her wetness. Her thighs squeezed him, willing him to go deeper and deeper. Imprisoned in her legs as he was, there was little choice.
Andrea loved him, loved having him pleasure her sex. She was losing herself as well. She was hurtling down a shaft. She pushed with her heels against his flesh. She thought to drive him, somehow, further and deeper, more pleasure, like a thoroughbred slave, to another shattering climax. Finally, it came, in a series of waves, slowly diminishing along with the sound of her heaving breath.
There was almost no sound, only two throbbing hearts. The electric current slowly simmered out of their bodies. Andrea was spent. She felt light and heavy, calm and anxious, but overall, she was lovingly satisfied by her mate. She struggled to her hands and knees, knowing that she needed to untie him. She found that he had climaxed with her. The enormity of her moment had sent him over the edge as well. She thought it was a bit of a waste, but she knew Thomas would feel happy. As she undid the ropes, she paused to thank the higher power that allows such moments of pure delight.
“I love you, Andrea,” Thomas whispered.
“I love you, Tommy …I love you,” she said drawing out the word ‘love’. As they again drifted into each other arms and under a soft vail of sleep, Thomas was thankful, too. He had the best woman in the world; beauty, brains and active imagination. He wondered what the next chalet weekend would be like, and how he could hasten its coming.
The End
