I got you,
At last I got you,
She'll never see your face, forever bound in my embrace

I got you,
At last I got you,
She'll never send you thrills, If I can't have you no one will

I Want You – Delain

Francis was humming to herself as she pulled up her driveway. When she said ‘driveway’ it was more like ‘access road’ It went on for a good mile before it reached her house, set in the bottom of a valley. Left to her by her spinster aunt who had died prematurely of cancer, Francis had immediately sold up her flat in the city to move here. Added to the solar panels on the roof and the waterwheel lazily turned by the river that ran nearby, the place was off grid for electricity. She toyed periodically with cutting the ties with the outside world entirely by not having a phone, but she liked having the internet too much, and she did have a business to run after all.

It had been a good run back along the motorway and despite one traffic cop nearly giving her a heart-attack as it switched it’s blues and twos on the opposite side of the barriers, fairly uneventful. She loved driving at night and normally made any excuse to slow off to make the best of her journey, but she’d had to keep a strict eye on her speedometer today, as it kept creeping up.

She couldn’t help it. Her boy was back where he belonged.

Francis clicked the button on her keyfob and the mechanical door on the garage slid smoothly up to allow her to pull straight in. She pulled in with the ease of practice, then killed the lights and engine. She sat back in the seat, hands still loosely curled around the steering wheel as she sat back with a euphoric smile.

“Oh yes. I got you,” She murmured, biting her lip with supressed joy. “I got you baby boy.”

Francis gave a massive sigh, then opened the door. She walked around to the boot and popped it open. There was the case. She pressed her hands to the top of it, then cupped them over her mouth, grinning broadly, doing a little dance on the spot as she ran her hands over her hair, brilliantly, wonderfully ecstatic like a little girl that had found all of her Christmas presents and Birthday presents at once. She forced herself to calm down, then very quietly and stealthily unzipped a portion of the case and peered inside. There was no movement from within, and the moonlight through the open garage door fell on his face. He… he’d actually fallen asleep. She gazed down at his beautiful half-obscured face, a pattern of moonlight and shade and smiled.

“Perfect,” She rezipped the case, that smile suddenly becoming crooked, and just so slightly evil. “Just perfect.”



William surfaced slowly. He often had dreams about being tied up, but this had to be one of the most vivid he’d had in a long time. Ever since the whole… debacle with Frankie, his dreams had been less substantial, as if his mind was feeling ashamed of bringing it up, but every now and then one came along that was really something special. He resisted the urge to wake up, luxuriating in the feeling of bands of pressure all over him, expertly tied, as if Frankie had him all over again…

Frankie.

His eyes snapped open and he began to struggle violently. The ropes weren’t in his dreams. They were most definitely for real. It came back to him now, the horrific scene in the hotel, Stella fast asleep in the bed next to him, unable to hear his garbled pleas, feel his desperate shaking… and Frankie, smiling down at him with that angelic smile with her demonic empty eyes.

He contorted wildly… and felt the ropes tighten. He looked around desperately, thrashing like a fish on the end of the line, taking nothing in.

Okay, Okay Will, calm down. Deep breaths.

He forced himself to take deep breaths in through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment, then slowly opening. His dark eyes cast around him. He was lying on what felt like a coffee table draped in dark red velvet, barely a few feet off the floor, the whole room covered in more of the rich red material, coating the floor and the walls, and he presumed the ceiling, but he couldn’t see up that far.

He started to cautiously test the extent of the ropes. He was in an excruciatingly strict hog-tie, the tightest she’d ever put him in. His wrists were knotted together with coarse hemp rope, his elbows and biceps likewise roped together, ropes criss-crossing his chest, one rope above his nipples, other below, the rough fibres of the rope grating over his sensitive skin. His legs were bent back on themselves, his thighs knotted to his shins separately, then his ankles were roped together, a few inches of rope between his wrists and ankles meaning that his long fingers were almost brushing his heels.

So far, so bad. But it got worse. He was totally naked, as he had been in the hotel room when he’d been taken, but a crude rope belt had been wrapped around his stomach, the ends brought forwards to rasp over either side of his dick, then both heaved through his butt crack to be attached to his wrists. Any movement with his wrists made a soft rasp against his already semi-hard genitalia, making him whimper softly, and there was still the matter of the dildo rammed in his butt. It was still there. Thankfully the batteries had run out on the journey here, but it still shifted uncomfortably as the rope in his butt did. There was also a cushion, placed under his stomach. He doubted that this was in anyway for his comfort, in fact, he was certain that it was just there to push his butt further up into the air and give her a better show.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to close his knees to feel less vulnerable, but felt more tension against his knees. He tugged on his right leg, then the left. Rope had been looped around each knee individually, and, he guessed, tied off to the corresponding legs of the table he’d been tied to. He tried to twist around to look, but felt another band of pressure across his scapula. Clearly another loop of rope had been passed around the table and around his chest.

Overkill, Will thought grimly. He hadn’t been going anywhere. But then, that was Frankie. She was always so thorough. Which did beg the question really – why wasn’t he gagged?

Of all the devices in her arsenal, Frankie had always loved gags – handmade gags, ones made of whatever happened to be lying around at the time, intricate head-harnesses, big old-fashioned ball gags… but as he licked his sore lips, chapped at the corners from the harsh rope gag, he couldn’t deny that she’d definitely left that out.

He gave the ropes a testing pull, then grimaced as the ropes grated against his most sensitive areas… and tightened slightly. He whimpered. She must have improved her rope skills. Yanking on his arms only tightened his rope wedgie and increased the compression on his legs, but pulling on his legs tightened the ropes on his arms. He hissed in irritation, yanking hard and instantly regretting it.

So where was the evil witch? Close, he knew. She wouldn’t be able to keep away, she’d be watching hungrily with those pale eyes, devouring his every movement.

“Come on then!” He yelled. “Where are you?”

“I thought that you’d never ask.”

Right behind him. Of course.

Frankie strode into view. She had taken off her jacket, but she was still wearing that green camisole top and bleached jeans. A stab of hope went through him. Maybe it was still the same day then. Maybe there was still a chance he could get back in time for the wedding. Maybe… maybe…

But there was a shitload of ropes and crazy to get through before that.

The aforementioned crazy folded herself onto the velvet in front of him, wrapping her arms around her knees like a child, resting her chin on them and smiling serenely at him.

“Had a nice nap?” She asked him innocently.

He scowled at her, not dignifying that with a response.

“Come on Frankie,” he said tiredly. “Stop with the games. What is it that you want?”

She gave a laugh, a bright brilliant peal of laughter.

“Oh my dear boy, I would have thought that that was obvious,” She said in her most condescending tone. “I want what I’ve always wanted. I want you.”

He sighed.

“Frankie, you and me stopped a long time ago, we stopped being an us five years ago.”

“No.”

Will looked at Frankie and opened his mouth, but Frankie raised one finger, silencing him.

“You walked out on me five years ago, that’s true,” She said quietly. “But we never stopped being an ‘us’. You just vanished and I had to be okay with that. And I’m not okay with it Will. You started this whole thing when you said ‘hey, wouldn’t it be fun if we tried bondage to spice up the relationship’, and I said yes to keep us together. You can’t blame me if I got too good at it, can’t blame me if I wasn’t ready to be your little fuck-doll and was so much better at topping than you could ever be. You started the game, you don’t get to say when it stops.”

“A relationship is an equal partnership…”

“We have wildly differing opinions on ‘equal’. I can have my way as long as it doesn’t conflict with your way, isn’t that right?”

“Frankie, we are done.”

“No. We’re not.”

“Yes, we are!” Will struggled against the ropes holding him. “If you let me go right now, give me my clothes back and give me a lift to the nearest town, I won’t hold this against you. I won’t call the police, I won’t hold this against you, but if you don’t…”

“You’ll what?” Frankie asked, leaning forwards, interestedly. “Make empty threats at me?”

Will yanked on the ropes, and cursed as he raked the ropes against himself, sending a wave of mingled pain and pleasure through him.

“You can’t hold me forever Frankie,” He snarled.

“Yes I can,” She said matter-of-factly. “And to be fair, I don’t really need to either. I just need to hold you long enough to break you.”

“You will never break me,” William snarled.

Frankie reached forwards and smiled, patting his cheek.

“We both know I nearly did before,” She whispered softly. “I have no doubt that I can do it again. And we have all the time in the world. All the time in the world.”

She got up suddenly, making him jump.

“You’ll stay here, like this, until you yell for mercy,” She said, her face becoming a hard emotionless mask.

“You’ll be waiting a long time,” he told her.

She shrugged.

“I have coffee, movies and a bed,” she remarked. “It’s only you that’s going to get hurt over your stubbornness.”

“I will never call for mercy.”

Frankie tilted her head.

“That sure, huh?”

He nodded. Frankie dipped her hands in her pocket.

“Might as well make sure then.”

She reached forwards and grabbed his nose. He gave a cry of shock and as he did she thrust 3 balls of fabric into his mouth and clapped her hand over his jaw to hold it in place. He shook his head violently, trying to dispel them, but her hand clamped on tight. From the way they were faintly soggy and tasted horribly familiar, he guessed that they were the clothes she’d gagged him with before. Frankie pulled a panel gag from her pocket, and with a deft motion clamped it over his mouth, doing it up at the back of his head one-handed, pulling them a notch tighter than was comfortable. He desperately nodded and shook his head, trying to scrape it off on his shoulder, but the rectangle of black leather wouldn’t give.

“What, don’t you like the taste of your fiancée?” She asked him interestedly. “They’re her socks and knickers. I thought that you might like a final taste of her before you give yourself back up to me.”

She laughed at his garbled curse. She perched on the table next to him, facing towards his legs, her hand reaching between his legs to slowly stroke his semi-hard dick. Will contorted under her attentions, growling in anger.

“It’s okay, you know, I forgive you for your lapse,” She informed him, gently tugging on the head of his cock. “I slept with a guy while you were gone too. I was mad at you, wanting to get back at you… so I forgive you. You’re only human, after all.”

She began to slowly stroke his shaft, up and down, up and down, torturously slowly at first, then faster and faster until his growls of anger had become whines of pleasure and his struggles reduced to a soft bucking of his hips. Frankie looked back at him, his dipped, almost docile head… then brought her right hand across.

The soft ‘click’ seemed to electrocute William. He tried to look around, then redoubled his struggles as the cock ring closed tightly around the base of his shaft. He could feel something pressing against his balls as well, but couldn’t look back to see what. Frankie laughed as he spat obscenities at her behind the gag and straightened up, then reached between his legs again.

William almost screamed as the cock ring began to vibrate, then yelled again as she clicked the controls for the vibrator in his arse and it leapt into buzzing life.

“I replaced the batteries,” She said conversationally. “Bet you’re glad of that gag now Mr ‘I Won’t Plead For Mercy’.” She spun on her heel. “I have a season of The West Wing that is just begging to be rewatched. Have fuuun.”

He howled after her, but she just sauntered away and he heard a door shut. He listened to the silence for a long moment, then a spike from the cock-ring drove him into a frenzy. He started to desperately throw himself against the ropes. They dug into his skin, grating against him, but not giving an inch, in some places getting tighter than they ever were. William didn’t know how long he fought against the ropes, managing to calm down just enough to make a bid to yank the ring off, to allow himself some release, or to get to his butt to try to turn the dildo off, but his reaching grasping fingers could barely brush the skin of his buttcheeks, and the pent up arousal and frustration soon overcame him and sent him into a wild writhing attack again.

If he could just reach between his legs to get to the damn ring, to yank it off, but it eluded him. Every movement he made drove the head of his cock into the velvet, rubbing the sensitive skin against the pile of the fabric, driving him more and more crazy. After what felt like hours, a sheen of sweat gleaming over his body, he pressed his head against the table and used all of his self resolve to force himself to stop fighting. If he stopped giving her a show, she’d have to come back to provoke him, she’d have to… damnit.

His resolve had lasted about 5 minutes. He couldn’t lie there under the assault, he couldn’t. He had to. He had to get some release. He whimpered into the gag. He couldn’t give himself back to Frankie, he couldn’t, but he couldn’t go on like this. He would actually explode. He pressed his head against the table again and balled his hands into fists. His arms were mostly numb by now anyway.

“Mrrrphhy,” he mumbled, then louder. “MRRFFFY!

He paused, listening intently, but didn’t hear any returning footsteps and took a deep breath. As he had fought the bonds, now he screamed against the gag, desperately trying to make himself heard.

“MRRFFY! MRRFFYYYYYY!”

He screamed his lungs out in desperation… and started to struggle weakly again, tears welling up in his eyes and sliding down his cheeks. He didn’t care any more. She could have him, if she’d just make this end.

“What was that?”

His head snapped up suddenly, desperately trying to peer over his shoulder to see her.

“MRRFY!”

“Was that Mercy?” She asked

He nodded eagerly, bobbing his head up and down as obviously as he could.

“2 hours,” Frankie remarked. “Really? 2 hours is all you could manage. Nice to know what you think is ‘never’.”

He just laid his head on his table with another soft whimper like a beaten dog. Frankie reached over and switched the vibrator in his butt off and he relaxed slightly, the stimulus reducing to a more manageable level. There was a soft tug as she pulled on the quick-release knots and his knees were no longer anchored to the table. Another tug and the pressure on his chest was gone. A final tug and the rope between his hands and his feet slithered undone.

He gave a low groan of relief as he was able to uncurl his back and lie flat on his face and bring his legs together, his throbbing dick crushed against the furry fabric. Frankie turned him over onto his face, rolling him off the table and onto the velvet-covered floor so his throbbing hard-on was perfectly visible. She smirked at it, then reached over and tucked on the straps on his gag. He spat out the wadded material with difficulty, gasping for breath.

“Mercy,” he whispered. “Mercy.”

Frankie gazed imperiously down at him, then put one foot on his chest and tapped her converse.

“Kiss it.”

William looked up at her, then at her shoe… then leant forwards and pressed his chapped lips to the rubber. Frankie gazed down at him, then knelt besides him, pulling him onto her lap, his still immobilised arms pinned underneath him as she reached forwards and unclipped the cock-ring. He whined against her, staring beseechingly up at her.

“Please, please…”

“Please what?” She demanded precisely.

“Please let me come.”

“Please let me come, what?”

William swallowed hard, clearly hating himself for his weakness.

“Please Mistress, please let me come.”

“That’s my boy,” She pressed her lips to his brow and gently began to stroke along his cock.

It didn’t take any pressure at all for it to become fully hard again and he whimpered at the touch, bucking his hips desperately.

“You surrender yourself to me?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll never try to leave me again?”

“Yes,” He dry-humped the air again. “Please Mistress…”

She slapped his stomach.

“Don’t be so needy slave,” she chastised him. “You agree, you’re all mine to do with as I see fit until the end of time and you’ll never lie with another woman as long as we both live?”

“Yes! Yes! Please!”

She gazed down into his tortured eyes and nodded.

“I believe you slave.”

Her hand formed into a fist around his dick and gave it one strong pump. He shuddered beneath her, then almost exploded into what had to be the most satisfying orgasm of his life. He lay there, panting as she leant over and kissed the very tip of his nose.

“All mine again,” She whispered.

And all William could do was stared up at her in mingled horror and shame.

Francis pushed him off her lap and straightened up, brushing off her trousers. She took a loose piece of rope and wrapped it around his neck, making a makeshift collar and lead. She gave an impatient tug on it.

“Come on Slave,” She said sharply. “We better get you all settled in.”

William managed to pull himself to his knees, then looked hopelessly down at his trussed legs.

“Come on, how am I supposed to walk like this?” He demanded.

He yelped in pain as she hit him in the face with the end of the rope.

“Mistress, mistress!” He said quickly. “Sorry Mistress.”

“Good slave,” She straightened her top. “You can walk on your knees, can’t you?”

He stared at her, then, at another yank on the rope, managed to balance on one knee, then the other, waddling awkwardly on his bound limbs. She turned on her heel and tugged him after her, not slowing to let him catch up, and seeming to enjoy yanking him along after her. He bit his tongue, too tired and pained to antagonise her further. Maybe if he played along, she might tie him less strictly and he might be able to escape? It was a feeble hope, but it was all he had.

She led him from the velvet room into what was clearly a workshop. Francis had always been good with her hands and made bespoke furniture… although he’d never seen any of the furniture in this room on sale on her website. There were pillories and stocks, racks and cages, even something that looked like an iron maiden.  

“I really did ruin you, didn’t I?” William said quietly, then added quickly. “Mistress.”

Francis looked across at him, then around the room.

“My bank balance has never been healthier,” She said matter-of-factly. “Water?”

“Please Mistress,” he said instantly.

She reached for a plastic bottle full of water and cracked it open, crouching down to hold it to his lips. He hesitated and she rolled her eyes, taking a sip out of it first.

“It’s not poisoned,” Francis told him with a roll of her eyes.

He opened his mouth and greedily gulped the water until he’d drained the bottle dry.

“Well?” Francis demanded, after he’d finished.

William had to bite back an acerbic response.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you…?”

“Thank you Mistress.”

She gave him a long look.

“From now on, I’m going to keep a tally of every time you forget to address me with the proper respect, and at the end of every week I’ll lash you with the number of times you forgot… times 5,” She gave him a bitter smile. “For every year you spent without me.”

“Frankie…”

“One.”

William shut up quickly. Francis smiled at him, then tied the length of rope off to workbench and reached for a box on the table.

“I made some orders when I knew that you’d be coming back to me,” Francis informed him. “I staggered them out a bit so it didn’t look suspicious timing.”

She pulled out a metal cock cage, brushing the packing peanuts off it.

“Let’s try this on for size.”

William staggered back on his knees, but immobilised as he was, there was nothing he could do to stop her sliding it into place and locking it off securely. She took the key and set it on the workbench, then looked at the belt critically. The leather straps were new and stiff, cutting into his hips slightly, but the metal cage fitted the length of his dick to a t. Looking down at it, he felt himself getting a little aroused despite himself, seeing his member so neatly caged, and grimaced as he felt little metal nubs inside press against his sensitive skin as he swelled.

“Not bad,” Francis remarked, delving back into the box. “And this should match…”

William wobbled on his knees as she brought out a leather collar with multiple metal rings around the outside. It locked at the front with a brass lock, a heart-shape engraved around the keyhole. She pressed it around his throat and he felt it lock into place. It was slightly too tight, not enough to be unbearable, but enough for him to constantly know that he was wearing it.

“Perfect,” Francis set the key for it on the workbench next to the other key.

William stared at the box. He had no idea how such a small box could hold so many horrible things, but next came out a pair of leather cuffs that she snugged around his ankles, then attached together with a short length of chain. She then stood behind him, and with a deft pull, tugged the ropes around his legs undone, neatly coiling the rope back up. William looked uncertainly at her, then awkwardly stumbled back to his feet. His legs were patterned with rope marks and red-raw patches were they had chafed against him, and felt a little unsteady under him, trembling slightly.

“Now, if you comply with me, and we put this on without any problem from you, I’ll let you sleep ungagged and fairly comfortably,” She told him easily. “Fight me and I swear to God you’ll hate every remaining second of tonight.”

William swallowed hard as she pulled out what looked like a leather tube with a lot of straps on it. He knew, whatever it was had to be for his arms, but it couldn’t puzzle out how the leather bag would work. He also knew that to put it on him, she would have to release his arms, and that would give him his first, and possibly last ever, opportunity.

He tried to keep his breathing steady as she approached, pulling away the rope and coiling it up, and the moment his arms were free, he swung a punch at her with one hand, grabbing for the keys on the workbench with the other. Francis ducked the punch and stepped back. His hands closed over the keys and he wrenched the rope collar over his head, leaving him free to move around, but Francis had been expecting that. In the time it had taken for him to dive forwards, she had formed a lasso out of the rope she was still holding. It fell over his head and round his upper arms and she tightened it with a sharp yank, wrenching him forwards. He staggered, and with his feet locked together, he fell hard to the floor, his hand opening and spilling the keys to the hard stone floor.

Francis leapt ontop of him, pinning him to the floor and grabbed the bag off the workbench. She pinned his forearms together so they made a box shape behind him, and wrapped the leather tube around them, strapping it down tightly so his arms were pressed together into one fleshy U shape behind his back. Francis buckled up the remaining straps over his shoulders and back onto the bag, wrenching them tight so that there would be no way he could slip it off, another one fed under his chest to hold the bag firmly against his back.

Francis double checked all of the straps, then stood up, kicking him over onto his back as she delved back into the box.

“Why?” She demanded. “Seriously, why? Did you really think that I’d give you even a chance?”

William looked up into her face, his face so heart-wrenchingly sad it almost made her feel a pang of regret.

“I love her,” He said quietly. “I love her. That’s why.”

Francis stared down at him.

“You said you loved me once too,” She said quietly. “Tell me, which one of us did you lie to?”

At his failure to respond, she pulled a leather head-harness with a massive pear-shaped ball attached to the inside of the mouth covering and sat on his chest, wrenching his head up by the collar around his neck. William shut his mouth tight against the intruder, but she just twisted his nipple, hard. At his yell of pain, she forced the rubber gag past his teeth, then methodically fastened all of the straps. William grimaced as his jaw was forced to close over the massive mouthpiece, filling his mouth very effectively.

Francis got up and looked down at him.

“That’s two, by the way,” she counted.

He spat something at her behind the gag and she gave a diabolical smile.

“I’ll count that as three.”

She dragged him across the room by his ankles, towards a set of stocks in the corner. She forced his feet into the leather-lined holes in the wood, then shut the thing firmly with an impressive snap and fastened the clasp at the side. She then stepped over to a wheel at the side.

“You’ll like this,” She told him. “Not a lot, but you’ll like it.”

She started to turn the wheel, and the stocks rose up on greased rails, lifting his legs off the floor. He stared at her in bewilderment as his legs, then his butt were suspended in mid-air, eventually leaving him at a weird angle so that all of his weight was on his shoulders. After a moment, William understood. All of his weight was now on his immobilised arms. Even if he could get his arms out, it would be nigh-on impossible to reach the lock on the side of the stocks. He glared at Francis and she blew him a kiss.

“Good…” She checked her watch. “Morning darling. I’ll see you about… oh… midday, shall we say?”

She sauntered past him and over to the door of the workshop, then opened it, allowing a gust of freezing night air in to play over his mostly naked body. Francis’ hazel eyes tracked over his naked form and she smiled.

“I have missed you,” She said quietly. “And now, I never have to miss you again.” She gave a beautific smile. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

She turned the light out on the horrified William and shut the door.  He froze as he heard the lock turn and swore into the gag, struggling on the cold stone floor. There was nothing he could do, he was very well immobilised… and, the worst part was that, still lodged in his butt was that goddamn pink dildo.