Lynda and I were on our first business trip together. She was a fortyish soccer mom type and the head of marketing. I was a few years younger and the manufacturing manager. She traveled often, I rarely, so I let her be the lead, pick out the hotel, etc. After arriving and checking in she suggested we go out for a drink. Iʼm not much of a drinker but since we flew in on a Saturday I figured it would be a nice way to spend the evening and maybe talk about our client meeting on Monday. We went to the hotel bar and I ordered my usual scotch and soda. She opted for a margarita. I sipped my drink and asked about her kids.
She shrugged, said “Theyʼre fine” and took a big slug of her drink. I switched to work and asked about the client. Once again she shrugged.
“Who cares,” she said, taking another healthy swallow. “Theyʼre easy. I just wear a short skirt and boots and olʼ Fred Morganʼll do whatever I want.”
She polished off her drink, signaled the bartender for another and looked at me. I had only had the one sip so I shook my head.
“So what else do you wanna talk about?” Her voice was already showing signs of inebriation.
“I donʼt know,” I said. “What do you wanna talk about?”
“Sex! Like, what makes you hot?” she blurted out. “I wore my short skirt and boots on the plane and you didnʼt even look. Whatʼsʼaʼmatter? You gay?”
“Oh I looked all right,” I responded. “Iʼm just a little circumspect.”
“Yeah? So whatʼd you think? You like?”
“I like plenty,” I answered. “You have fabulous legs and the boots show them off nicely.”
“So you gonna hit on me?” she asked.
I laughed. “No, Iʼm not planning to hit on you. We work together. I like my job. I like you. So what happens if I hit on you and you turn me down? How do we face each other after? Besides, youʼre married. Happily, as I understand it.”
“Oh, married, schmarried. I donʼt wanna move in with you. Just wondered what makes you hot.”
I was starting to get warm.
“Oooh! Heʼs blushing!” she squealed. “Now you gotta tell.”
“Tell what?” I stalled.
“What makes you hot! Jeez.”
“Well, pretty women, nice legs, you know. The usual.”
“I donʼt think ʻThe Usualʼ explains the blush. So what is it? Something kinky?”
I could feel my blush deepening.
“Okay, itʼs kinky. Are you gonna make me guess?”
I looked around. The hotel bar was mostly deserted, but Iʼm easily embarrassed.
“Just tell me,” she pleaded. “Iʼm good. I wonʼt tell. Cʼmon, this is what we do on business trips. Confide in one another, get to know all about each other.”
I sighed. She wasnʼt going to give up.
“Okay. You win. You ready?”
Her eyes glistened as she nodded vigorously.
“Alright, but you promise this is just between us?”
She nodded some more.
“Okay, I like bondage. I mean, I REALLY like bondage.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You mean like tying up? And gagging?”
My turn to nod.
“And whipping and beating?”
I shook my head.
“No nothing like that. Just rope bondage and maybe some heavy teasing.”
She shook her head sadly.
“No way Iʼm gonna let you tie me up buster. You may be cute, but youʼre not that cute.”
“Well,” I said slowly. “I donʼt really want to tie you up.”
Now she was angry. “What, Iʼm not pretty enough for your perverted little game?”
“No, see, this is why I didnʼt want to tell. First, itʼs not a perverted little game. Lots of people play. And yes, youʼre pretty enough. In fact, youʼre extremely attractive.”
Light dawned in her slightly pickled brain.
“Aha! You want me to tie you up, right?”
“Not you necessarily, but yeah. I like to be tied up,”
“So then what? I mean I just tie you up and then what?”
“Then you tease me. Maybe order me to pleasure you with my hands or my mouth. Iʼm pretty good at both, if I do say so.”
“Hmmm, that could be fun. Tie you up, then have you pleasure me? You mean like cunnilingus? You can do that while tied?”
“Depends on how you tie me,” I replied, noticing that Iʼd said ʻhow you tie meʼ instead of ʻhow Iʼm tiedʼ.
She noticed too. Her breathing was just a little quicker and now she had a bit of a blush also.
“So you wanna try?”
“Now? Tonight?” I asked incredulously.
“Sure, why not?”
“Well for starters, I donʼt have any rope and I doubt of thereʼs an all night hardware store close by. Also, youʼre slightly tipsy. “
“Moi? Tipsy? Hah!” She stood up, touched her nose, walked a heel-to-toe straight line for ten paces, and counted backwards from twenty -five. Sheʼd obviously been through a DUI traffic stop. I was convinced.
“Well you sure seemed a bit inebriated earlier.” I commented as she resumed her seat.
“Well of course I did,” she answered with a sexy smile. “How else would I get you to tell me what you like? Itʼs the oldest trick in the book.”
I laughed. She had me.
“But we still donʼt have any rope. And to do it right we need a lot. A bathrobe sash just wonʼt do.”
“No, of course not. Weʼll want to do it right if we do it at all.”
She stood and walked over to the bar where she had a short conversation with the young female bartender.
“She doesnʼt know where we can get rope,” Lynda said sadly as she once again resumed her seat.
“You asked where to get rope?”
“Well sure. Sheʼs here to serve us, you know.”
“Well yeah, but...”
“Oh donʼt be such a baby. Who cares if she knows? But weʼll just have to wait til tomorrow. Iʼm going to my room.”
She stood and collected her purse. We walked to the elevators together and rode up in silence. The doors opened at our floor and she patted my shoulder.
“Donʼt get any big ideas, buster,” she said. “Iʼm going to see whatʼs on TV and then get some sleep. See you at breakfast.”
I watched her sashay into her room and close the door, then wandered slowly down the corridor to my own room. I slept late and by the time I roused myself and called Lyndaʼs room sheʼd gone out. I showered, dressed, and went down to the coffee shop for breakfast. I was standing at the counter about to pay my bill when she came bustling in clutching a True Value Hardware bag.
“I could hardly sleep thinking about your confession,” she said breathlessly. “So first thing I got breakfast and took a cab to the hardware store. The first one was closed on Sunday morning but the cabbie knew of another so we went there. He waited while I went in and bought this,” she rattled the bag. “Then we came back. So. You wanna?”
“Umm, now? Sunday morning?” I was stalling again. Donʼt know why I do that.
“Yes, now. Jeez, I thought youʼd be excited.”
“Well yeah, I am excited. Uh, your room or mine?”
“Mine. I got a suite. Letʼs go.”
When we got inside her room, I looked around in amazement. While I was in a nice hotel room, she had what appeared to be a luxury apartment.
“So what do we do?” she asked. “Iʼve never tied up a man before. I used to play tie-up games as a kid, but that was just jump ropes and little kids tied to trees.”
I sighed. “Thatʼs the problem. It works best if youʼre in charge. If I have to tell you what to do, it isnʼt the same.”
“I guess that would be the case. So will you give me a lesson now and then we could play for real?”
I agreed. She dumped the bag out on the bed and I rummaged through her purchases. She had 100 feet of 1/4” clothesline and another 100 feet of 3/8”. I got out my trusty pocket knife and cut off several lengths of each. Since she adamantly refused to let me demonstrate on her, I reluctantly showed her a basic two-column tie on myself, binding my ankles and knees, then removing the ropes and having her do the same. I showed her a few basic knots and explained cinching. I decided to not mention gags at this point.
“I think Iʼve got some ideas now. But donʼt you have too many clothes on? I mean, wasnʼt the idea to tease you sexually and maybe let you demonstrate your supposed proficiency with tongue and fingers?”
“Well, yeah. Less clothes would be better. But that means you, too.”
So we both removed our jeans. I also took off my shirt but she chose to keep hers. As I took in the sight of the lovely Lynda clad in panties, white tee shirt and white knee socks, I began to get aroused. My erection was quite obvious through my jockeys.
“Somebodyʼs getting in the mood,” she commented. “Now I think I want you on your knees right there on the floor.”
I complied and she knelt behind me. Soon my wrists were bound and cinched. She also tied a rope around my chest and another around my waist, pinning my arms against my body.
“You seem to be pretty good at this already,” I commented.
“Well whatʼd you think? Iʼm handy with tools, too you know,” she said as she grabbed my crotch and squeezed. I made a rather loud noise.
“Hey, that reminds me. You should be gagged. Hmmm... I know!” She slipped out of her panties, balled them up and held them to my mouth. “Open up, big boy.”
I hesitated a moment, then decided what the hell. She shoved them in, peeled off one of her socks, and wrapped it around my head holding the panties in and tying it behind my neck.
“There. Arms nicely bound, gagged. But whatʼs this? His legs arenʼt tied. He could run away. Better do something about that.”
She grabbed some more rope and tied my ankles, calves and thighs. She rolled me onto my stomach, forced my heels up against my butt, and tied my ankles to my wrists, putting me in a strict hogtie. She stood up and went to a suitcase, rummaged around, and reappeared in front of me with a Nikon.
“Weʼll want to save these special memories, donʼt you think?”
The flash went off. She moved around, shooting me from all sides, then rolled me onto my back and pulled down my jockeys, allowing my rigid cock to stand at attention. More photos. She disappeared into another room and shortly came back fully dressed.
“Iʼm going out. See ya.”
And she was gone.
It took me over an hour to work my way loose. Sheʼd taken the camera. I went back to my room to await developments. It didnʼt take long. An email arrived, causing my laptop to ping. I opened it and there I was, bound on the floor. A note was attached.
Dear Max,
You looked so good like that, it made me hot. I decided I couldn’t keep you all to
myself. Wouldn’t be fair. So I sent copies to Carol and Janice in accounting. I
decided not to send any more. For now. Meet me downstairs tomorrow at eight for the
client meeting.
Lynda
I am so screwed.
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