Barb and I began as just friends where we both worked, and this 'just friends' continued for about two years, until she moved to another company. During the just friendship, there was no sex and very little messing around in that direction; mainly because I wanted to engage in bondage play with any romantic partner and I was afraid to bring up the subject with someone who worked so close. For these reasons, Barb was perhaps more outgoing toward me than I was toward her.

Barb was about my age - 30ish - dark hair, eyes and skin - but not African-American; maybe some Jamaican background or something. Tall, good figure, generously wide mouth; but not quite a showstopper. I care to snoop into her "other" life, but I learned that she was either divorced or separated, partly because "he seemed to like other men as much or more than he did me."

Soon after she moved to another company, she informed me that she and her ex were going to try again. So, that was the end of that for maybe six months. She called me to say that it didn't quite work out and that she would like me to come over sometime. Which I did. And which, since she no longer was a coworker, led into some very heavy kissing and handling of her physical person, unlike ever before. But, it confused me. When I reached down below her slacks to stroke her bare foot, she laughed. When I tried to remove her sweater - which was already raised for me to kiss her very nice, though small, breasts - she stopped me. When I tried to lower her slacks so I could roam the length of her legs (I'm a leg man), she declined. My own trousers stayed in place, though she did say something about was I tense; meaning that maybe she was offering to perform with her hands to relieve it. It being a weeknight and me having to work early the next day, I left before midnight. And, yes, I was tense; tense with confusion about what to do with her and not try to do, and did I want to continue with her.

I was undecided for the next day or two and did not call her. Then, in the middle of the night, I had an inspiration as to how my own desire for bondage play just might coincide with her reluctance to go too far.

I called her and asked her to go out for dinner. She replied that she had about decided that I would not call again. I told her that we had some things to talk over. She said that she thought so too.

During dinner the very next Friday evening, I learned that she was so hesitant because she did not want an unplanned pregnancy and that it seemed that she and I had too many differences -social, ethnic, etc. - to form a permanent bond. But we could have fun together, up to a point, if I liked. I told her that I did like, but I had become confused by her. But that we could eliminate that confusion.

Barb touched my hand, smiled, and merely asked, "I'd like that. How?"

So, I didn't have to tell my friend how I had always wanted to be tied up by a woman, since I had been a kid and tied up by the boys mostly, but girls a couple of times. I just told her that I had been confused and didn't know what to do or how to stay out of trouble with her.

"I'm sorry," she sympathized; "but go on; how can we make it better for us?"

So, I took a deep breath and told her that she might be more comfortable if she had complete control when we did what we had done; and that I certainly would be less confused if we both knew that she was in control.

"That sounds reasonable. Maybe even fun. So, what is your plan, Strand?" A sqeeze of my thigh to encourage me.

"Well, Barb, I got tied up some when I was a kid. Maybe you should tie me up whenever you felt like it; then I couldn't do anything wrong and you could do whatever you want, or make me do whatever you want. I even have some rope and stuff in the car if you want to try it tonight."

"Love it!! Let's finish dinner and go home."

When we got to her apartment, Barb and I talked some more. We agreed that I would be a regular, take charge guy when we were out on my turf. When out on hers, I would be her escort, her equal. When we were alone and about to enter a state of intimacy, she could and should tie me up whenever and however and for as long as she decided; and do as she pleased with me so long as it didn't end up with me in the hospital or something.

Barb next said, "Well, buddy; that's where we are now. Get that shirt off!"

After I took off my shirt - so she wouldn't have to cut it off later - she tied my wrists behind my back. "Don't you dare move," before she stripped me completely, made me kneel and tied me ankle to thigh, facing her sofa.

So, finally, I got to taste those legs from hip to the bottoms of her toes as she guided me and moved into positions convenient for her pleasure. I wondered at the skill she seemed to have, but dared not ask her where she had attained it. I was further surprised when she cleave gagged me very tightly with a skill that I wondered at. Surely, I thought to myself, Barb has done this before, or seen it done.

"I'm going in to get the bed ready for nighty night, Strand. Have fun and don't go 'way. Okay? This is going to be a fun weekend."

So there I was all alone in Barb's living room, trussed up on the carpet like the proverbial Christmas goose, gagged, naked, the taste of her still on my lips, my cock freshly used . . . but coming back to life as I thought about my captivity - what I had always wanted. I tired briefly and instinctively to escape the ropes, but realized that she was very skilled in tying up people. I was both pleased and jealous of whoever had enjoyed her before me. Curious about her plans for my immediate future, eager for more of her - perhaps to kiss her fine behind.

Then, to my great surprise and fear, I heard something at the front door. It was being unlocked!! Barb must have heard it too, because she appeared in the hall, opposite. "Jeremy!!?? What are you doing here?"

I saw a look of surprise on the man's face, then a grin. "I'm still your husband. I still pay the rent. I still have a key. Who the hell is this? Not to mention why is he tied up?" Then, he added, much to my surprise and fear, "Not that I mind at all. He looks pretty hot."

The "ex." Who "seemed to like other men, maybe more than her." Oh, shit!!

Barb was cool. "Strand, meet Jeremy, my soon to be ex. And, in case you are curious, who taught me how to do what I did to you by doing it to me."

Jeremy said, "Well, hello Strand. You are in kind of a fix, aren't you?"

I said . . . . nothing from behind my gag.

Barb said, arms crossed in determination to dominate this screwy scene, "Why are you here, Jeremy?"

Jeremy said, "Came over for my fishing tackle. Rick and I were going to go fishing tomorrow."

"What do you mean, 'were'?"

"I kinda like what you have for me here, Sweets. Maybe I might have a share of old Strand here."

I was blushing at being seen and treated as an object to be 'shared' if they chose; with nothing to say about it myself. I tried against the ropes again. No luck!

I was - am - a pretty good sized guy - 6', 185lb, workout muscles. Jeremy was slighter; maybe 5'9", 150, not much muscle. But he didn't need much to deal with me, if he chose to; not the way I was bound up and helpless. Barb might have been his equal in a battle over me, if she chose to defend me, which I was less than sure of.

"I don't think so," Barb answered; relieving me a lot. But I was only a spectator now to what happened over the next half hour.

"Well could I at least have a drink before I go, wifey mine? Maybe at least look at your captive here?"

"I guess a small one. And then you go."

I could not warn her as Jeremy tipped a bit of something into her drink when her back was turned. There was nothing I could do or even say as Barb grew listless and passed into a brief faint. Nor could I interrupt old Jeremy when he removed Barb's flimsy nighty and tied her up into a very strict hogtie, complete with a cleave gag to match my own, right in front of me. Nor could I speak or move much when my erstwhile captor woke, wide eyed, struggling against her ropes and gag, then relaxed to watch in a horror to match my own as Jeremy stripped.

I have to give it to Jeremy; he knew patience. He played along with both of us - must have been bi instead of gay. He put his fingers against my lips and my gag after he used them intimately in Barb.

Then he began to concentrate on me.

At first, Jeremy stroked me from head to toe, very gently, just brushing the ends of my nerves. I am - was - not gay, but I began to feel both aroused along with used. He pinched my nipples so painfully that I jerked away so hard I almost fell over onto my side; but my legs were splayed too wide.

Then, from behind me, I felt his hand move between my cheeks, touch that sensitive spot just behind my balls.

And then he did what I am too ashamed to write about, even though I am not to blame because I was a bound object, helpless to prevent it, even from this guy who was so much my physical inferior. What it was he did, he did twice before leaving. Right in front of Barbara to shame us both.

After finishing with me, Jeremy fetched his fishing tackle, untied Barb's fine ankles, suggested that she could go into the kitchen to fetch a knife to cut herself loose; and he left us.

Was there a note of amusement when Barb said, "I'm so sorry, Strand. I had no idea this might have happened." I was still tied up, and my gag had been replaced after . . . . Then she said, "You must want me to untie you now so you can go home. And never see me again ."

She even began to untie my gag.

When I shook my head so that she could not.

"Do you mean it? You want to stay? Still be my . . . prisoner?"

I still loved being tied up as I had long wanted. I knew that I really, really was because of what had been done and I could not escape.

I nodded my head, looking into her dark, dark, unfathomableeyes.

"Oh, Strand; you absolute, brave, doll. You won't be sorry to be my prisoner; I promise."

And Barb kept her promise.

A month later, before we began our power exchange in her apartment, Barb handed me some photographs. About a half dozen. They were of Barb and me naked and tied up separately. Plus just one which must have been taken with a self timer, of Jeremy and myself. On the back was written: "Maybe again sometime. Or else. J"

Barb and I have long since parted. But I know that Jeremy is still out there, somewhere, with those pictures. And sometime . . . .

The End

20.07.08