Afternoon Tea

by Uto

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© Copyright 2021 - Uto - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; bond; cloth; bed; neighbours; cottage; rom; cons; X

The scene was a quiet residential street in a middle class mountain suburb. The time, the afternoon of a cloudy mid-winter day.

Geoffrey was a former government employee in his late fifties who had taken early retirement a year before and had been living up here ever since. He was lean, fit and kept healthy with plentiful exercise, usually long solitary walks in the neighbourhood. He had a square, serious face, a head of plentiful, if greying hair and was generally thought of as easy to get along with by the locals. He had been a widower for eight years, still enjoyed the company of women and would have enjoyed an active relationship. But, there seemed little opportunity up here.

This mid-afternoon he was going on one of his long walks to the end of the street where he lived, and then perhaps into the bush beyond and finally back to prepare his solitary evening meal. A healthy, if dreary and lonely way of filling in an afternoon he thought. 

Near the end of the street he approached a cottage owned by a lady he knew as Rosemary Ritter. And whom he noticed was standing on her front veranda.

Rosemary, he knew was a retired teacher who had lived up here slightly longer than he had. Slightly younger than himself, she was a thin athletic looking woman with an oval face with a pointed chin framed by short black straight hair. The few times he’d spoken to her he’d got the impression she was something of an intellectual. He didn’t know if she had been a primary or high school teacher and in his wilder moments, lustfully wondered what she’d be like in bed. There seemed little chance of that.

“Hello Rosemary,” he called as he drew near. One should always be friendly, he felt. She did not reply and he wondered if he’d upset her in some way. He hoped not though he couldn’t think what he might have done. He hardly knew her.

As he neared her front gate she had left her veranda and walked down her front path. “Geoffrey,” she called.

He stopped, pleased she seemed ready to be friendly. “Yes Rosemary,” he said politely.

“I’m about to make afternoon tea. Would you like to join me?” 

“Well, yes. And thank you very much.”

“Come in then,” she turned, walked back up the steps and into her home. He followed her.

Twenty minutes later they were both seated at her kitchen table, a teapot and two steaming cups in front of them. And a small plate of biscuits.

“I saw you on the footpath," Rosemary said, “And I decided I wanted to talk to you.”

He began to sense something coming and wondered what it was.

“This morning I had an old friend here for about two - three hours. Her name’s Margaret. We were in Teachers College together and even taught in the same school for a few years. That was long ago. She left the Department and now works at Burstons’ up at Barkridge.

Burstons was a local transport company situated at Barkridge, a regional centre a few miles away on the Western Mountains Line. It was a big employer and did a lot to keep the local economy going. And it had been in the news of late.

“Burstons of Barkridge? That’s where that big robbery was, wasn’t it? In the local news yesterday? Armed criminals, a payroll taken, three women assaulted?” Geoffrey recalled it.

“That’s it. My friend Margaret was right in the middle of it. And I want to talk to you about it.”

Geoffrey was silent. He felt he’d better let her do just that. Privately he wondered, just why do you want to talk to me about it?

Rosemary went on. “As often happens the press have got a distorted picture of things. It wasn’t a carefully planned robbery as they said and the three women were not assaulted in the strict sense of the word. Bound and gagged, yes, but not assaulted.” Geoffrey was interested.

"It was basically the result of an unfortunate clerical error by the armoured delivery service. Due to this the fortnightly payroll arrived at Barkridge Burstons’ two hours ahead of schedule in the early morning. As the office was being opened up by three lady employees who'd just got there. Security, which should have looked after it, was not expected for an hour or more.

In vain the ladies asked the armed deliverymen to wait and guard it but they said they had a tight schedule to keep. My friend Margaret was there in a supervisory capacity. She frantically rang the head office and they said Security would be there in less than an hour. They were not - it was nearly two hours before they turned up. Meanwhile they were told, keep it in the office, lock the doors and let no one in but staff. It would be quite safe, they were assured. Only the delivery firm and themselves knew it was there. The rest of the world knew nothing about it.

That would have been fine but for an armed gang that had been cautiously trailing the armoured delivery van on the highway, planning to attempt a robbery during a delivery, if an opportunity offered. They watched the doings at Burstons from a distance.

They couldn’t believe their good luck when they saw the payroll taken in and left in charge of three women who were just entering the building when it arrived. When the delivery van left, they struck.

The three ladies were my friend Margaret the office supervisor, the second a married woman aged twenty eight who was an accountant and a nineteen year old girl, recently started as a trainee. All were standing in the main office looking at the payroll, in neat cardboard boxes, stacked on one of the tables.

The three gang members got in by a side door which had a very poor lock and confronted the ladies. Understandably, they were terrified. Though later they said the intruders were jocular and gentlemanly throughout, possibly because of the good fortune they were having.

These men explained apologetically to the women they would have to tie them up. Some rolls of duct tape, left over from recent electrical work were found and the three were made to stand in a line.

First their wrists were crossed behind their backs and taped many times. Next their arms were secured to their sides by wrapping more tape around their bodies underneath their breasts. Finally more was wound around their waists fastening their upper arms.

Three comfortable office chairs were lined up and the ladies made to sit on them. More tape was used to secure their ankles and lastly their legs above the knees. They used the duct tape lavishly and the captives began to look like well wrapped parcels.

They used the last roll to anchor them to their seats by winding it round and round their waists and the metal chair back shafts.

The ladies were then informed they would have to be gagged. All three protested but it went ahead. Some damp face cloths were found in a washroom and folded into wads in their presence. The nineteen year old trainee became very agitated at this stage and asked wildly, ‘Are we going to be raped?’ She was assured they were not. They could hardly be, seated as they were and with their legs tightly bound together. The gags were forced into their mouths and secured with the last strips of duct tape. The captives were now completely helpless and could only mew.

Their captors did not stay around. They smiled at the bound ladies, wished them a pleasant day, gathered up the boxed payroll and left the room. One of them had brought their vehicle to the side door. Within minutes they were driving away, much richer than when they arrived.”

“And that,” concluded Rosemary, "Is how the Burstans Payroll Robbery, as told by my friend Margaret, who was there, really happened.”

“How were the ladies released?” asked Geoffrey.

“Other employees arrived,”explained Rosemary, “Though the front doors were locked they found the broken into side door, went in and found the girls. And freed them. I believe it was very difficult to get the tape off. The police were called and as they say the rest is history.”

Geoffrey was silent for some time. He sipped his tea and nibbled a biscuit. “Rosemary, I’m curious to know why you’ve told me this in such detail. I appreciate you taking me into your confidence but, really, why’ve you done it?”

It was Rosemary’s turn to be silent. She in turn sipped her tea.

She began. “I’ve briefly mentioned to you that this morning my friend Margaret was here. For nearly three hours, far longer than I expected. She’s still affected by it. Oh, she’s had a psychological examination and the doctors say she’ll get over it. But she’s still not her usual self.”

Rosemary went on, “She went on and on about it. How being securely tied up affected her. In great detail. She said she became sexually aroused. What do you think of that?”

Geoffrey put down his cup. After some seconds of silence he said, “Well, I can tell you the sight of a bound and helpless woman is something of a male turn-on. I’ve sometimes wondered if there’s an opposite effect. If a helplessly tied up female in the presence of a sexually capable male becomes aroused.”

“Indeed?” Rosemary looked at him sharply. Geoffrey wondered if he’d said the wrong thing.

She stood up.She was wearing a tight fitting white sweater and a thick fawn woollen skirt with two large front pockets. She thrust her hands into these and began to walk around the kitchen. And ended up facing him.

“To change the general course of the conversation for the moment,” she began, "How much do you know about me?”

A question he thought, that was blunt, straightforward and to the point.

He also wondered at this sudden change and resolved he’d better answer as truthfully as he could. “Not much. Retired teacher, been here not much longer than myself and live alone. Whether widowed, divorced or never married I don’t know.” An easy smile, “Otherwise I know virtually nothing about you.”

“Understandable, I daresay you haven’t talked to the local gossips yet.” She looked down at him, “Well Geoffrey Gage, I perhaps know a little more about you. Formerly Water Commission, a widower, given to solitary walks, often in the bush. And perhaps on the lookout of a friend, companion, partner even. Am I right?”

He stuck to his original decision of honesty. “You’re right,” he shrugged, “Though, as to the last, without much success.” Another shrug and a wry smile, “Shyness perhaps.”

“Well it happens to be my aim too. I think we should talk about this,” He wondered indeed where this was leading to. She sat down, poured two fresh cups of tea and they talked.

They talked at some length, quietly and seriously. About each other, background, education, upbringing and tastes. Early relationships, marital experiences, affairs since then. They found they had a lot in common. And learned they were both still potent and capable of enjoying the act of love. And importantly, still wished to do so.

Rosemary was divorced. Two decades back there had been a lacklustre marriage which had deteriorated over the years and ended in a difficult parting. She was still bitter about it. 

An hour passed. Rosemary was cheerful, “Well then. This has been an informative discussion.” Geoffrey was inclined to agree with her, “And, I think worth following up.” She stood up, cleared away the tea things and took them out to the kitchen. On coming back she sat down and stared straight at Geoffrey. “And now back to our original conversation.”

“I told you how those three ladies were tied up, gagged and lashed to chairs. And that my friend Margaret became sexually aroused as a result. And you said a bound woman is a sexual turn-on to some men.” Geoffrey wondered, where is this leading to?

Rosemary’s eyes never left his face. “If I were bound and helpless now, would it turn you on?”

What a question to be asked. But his decision to be honest never seemed more sensible.

“It probably would. No, more than that, it most certainly would.” He looked her straight in the eye, as she was doing to him.

She answered in a low voice. “It’s long been a fantasy of mine, to have my wrists and arms bound tightly. As those three ladies were two days ago. And then subjected to a good vigorous lovemaking. Something I couldn’t do anything about if I wanted to.” She smiled faintly, “Sometimes I’m even gagged too. That, I believe is very much a male turn-on. But one’d have to be careful there. It could be uncomfortable and interfere with one’s breathing. Not initially anyway.”

A pause and then, “Do you want to try bondage? Say so if you don’t like the idea."

He spoke truthfully. “I’d like to. And thank you.” He went on, “I will admit I’ve had masculine fantasies too. About the restrained female. Thank you for suggesting it."

She stood up, “Well then. Let’s get started, carefully and sensibly. And hope for mutual success. We'll adjourn to my bedroom.” She led the way, pausing at the linen cupboard to get an old, frayed beach towel out of her old clothes bag. And another one from the bathroom. 

The bedroom curtains were already drawn, Rosemary lowered the blind. “The neighbours aren’t at all inquisitive here. One lot is away anyway. This window’s a long way from the road. And it gets dark early this time of the year.” She pulled back the tidily spread counterpane and laid out the smaller towel in the middle of the neatly made double bed.

She nicked the end of the beach towel with a pair of nail scissors enabling him to tear it into long strips several inches wide. She smiled, “No doubt it’ll be more comfortable than duct tape. And certainly easier to get off.” These were placed on the top blanket.

She kicked off her shoes, aligned them beside the bed, stood in front of Geoffrey and looked into his face. “And now my lover, partner, captor, the next move is up to you." Another smile, then she turned around and crossed her wrists behind her back. “I take it you remember the procedure. From what I told you about the three ladies. They, it seems, were bound by professionals.” 

For a man who had never tied up a woman before, Geoffrey showed surprising aptitude. Several windings around her crossed wrists and secured by a good firm knot. Then a sash around her upper arms below her breasts and another one above, both of these caused her bust to stand out sharply. These were further secured by cinches under her armpits. “Is that enough?” he asked tentatively, “You said in your fantasy ‘wrists and arms'." She flexed her bound arms then turned and faced him.

“Perfect,” she smiled. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before? Or just showing a long hidden talent? Anyway, you’re doing very well. Carry on.” She looked into his face and lifted her chin slightly. Whereupon he kissed her lips, softly and swiftly. “Darling,” she whispered.

He worked quickly from there. Unclasping her woollen skirt, undoing the zip and slipping it off. Next her knickers were slid down, she stepped out of both. He picked them up and arrayed them neatly on her chest of drawers. “Quite the tidy one, aren’t we?” she commented. “Actually, I like that in a man.”

He made her sit down on the bed, carefully placing her bottom in the middle of the spread towel. Then he lifted her legs, spun her around and lowered her upper body so that her head rested squarely on one of the pillows. She stretched her legs out fully. “Comfortable, dear?” he enquired, “Do you want me to undress?”

Her eyes closed. “Whatever you like darling. Just serve me well.” Swiftly he pulled off his shoes, placed them alongside hers and removed his clothes. And placed them beside her skirt on the chest of drawers. She heard this rather than saw it and smiled to herself. He got down on the bed beside her then stretched out completely and pulled the counterpane over both of them. She murmured her contentment.

“There’s some lubricant in the top drawer of the bedside cabinet if you prefer it. I certainly don’t need it. I’m well and truly moist.” His probing fingers confirmed this and then stayed to caress the inside of her thighs. She mewed her delight and he again kissed her partly open lips. Then with one swift, deft movement he mounted her and thrust his swollen, throbbing member deep into her vaginal orifice.

She moaned her long awaited satisfaction, “Darling, oh darling, just make it long, oh so long as you can.”

The next hour was pure ecstasy. The sort of happening that memories are made of.

Almost three hours later, Rosemary and Geoffrey were sitting in her lounge room sipping coffee. He was fully dressed, except for his shoes. She was still wearing her white sweater but had put on a pair of snugly fitting blue jeans. And a pair of warm lambswool slippers. They were sitting on the lounge in front of a newly lit fire in the fireplace which seemed to be a feature of every cottage in this mountain suburb.

They had just cooked and eaten a light meal in Rosemary’s kitchen and were now relaxing. A small cardboard box containing the folded towelling sashes they had used earlier in the evening was on the floor beside them. She looked at it.

“I’m wondering where I can store this where it'll be readily available yet won’t be seen by visitors,” she commented. Geoffrey smiled. Ready availability indicated the sashes might be frequently used in the future.

“I think we’ve made a good beginning. Another thing,” she asked, “Geoffrey Gage, what’s your second given name?”


“I had an inkling it might be something like that. So your initials are G.A.G. then? That sounds prophetic in view of what we may do in the future.”

They both laughed and it was suggested, not altogether in jest, they visit a sex shop and invest in a proper ball gag. A great idea.


Continues in

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