Bound & Distressed

by John Roper

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© Copyright 2009 - John Roper - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; drug; bond; bdsm; outdoors; climax; cons; X

Lisa's the kind of woman who, once she sets her sights on what she wants, pulls out all the stops until she gets it. Though barely into her twenties, she's hardly what one would call a novice, where bondage and discipline are concerned. After having experienced her first inescapable fix at the ripe old age of seven, when Cousin Anita tied her to a tree in the thick strip of woodland that separated back yards from the ones opposite hers, Lisa spent the rest of her life in search of people who wished to do the same. The ropes were not all that tight, but well tied by her older playmate, giving the bondage virgin a major first taste of what it's like to be bound and held fast to nature's sometimes unexpected surprises.

A thunder and lightning storm rose quickly during the first half hour of her escape attempt, surrounding her all-consuming adventure with an aura of undeniable peril. In the minutes that followed, Lisa was drenched and beside herself with unaccustomed excitement. Though not gagged, she refused to call out for help, knowing that dong so could possibly end the experience in a way she preferred not to control or influence, given the odd, offbeat sensations and pleasures involved.                                                                                                                                                                                                                      
Her wrists were crossed and bound together behind the tree. Cinches at the knees and ankles, tied to the rough bark, held her legs in check in such a way as to allow only abrasive movement, creating a discomfort zone over which she had full and immediate control. 50 feet of quarter inch thick clothesline pinned Lisa's upper body to the thin trunk, which, given the windy conditions, made for some very precarious combinations of bark management to deal with. The summer storm went on for almost 45 minutes, suggesting to Lisa that her cousin might be more of a bad girl than their otherwise benign relationship had thus far revealed.


It was summer again, and Lisa was standing at the front door of an A-frame in the sleepy-old, Catskills ski town of Hempville, waiting to meet a perfect stranger whose outrageous reputation had been tickling her fancy through a telephone talk line, then direct phone contact for many a month.

She'd driven 2 hours to get to this moment and place, fingering herself for most of the trip, fantasizing outcomes and such en route to a time and place she'd waited years to arrive at. Now that the tantalizing moment had come, and her trepidation reached its boiling point, Lisa did the best she could to pull herself together with a deep breath and a reminding word to her justifiable reasoning.

'Remember, girl, he came highly recommended by your best friend, who isn't half as kinky as you are.'

A handsome gentleman of about 40 or so opened the door and said, "Right on time. I like that. Come in."

Their eye contact waxed intense before broken by Lisa's habitually deceptive nature. They settled in on opposite sides of a huge room on the first floor. She wore tight jeans and white tank top and tennis shoes. The coffee table in front of the couch upon which Lisa sat, with legs pressed close together, contained a frosted mug of beer.

"Had you arrived late," spoke her host, "it would be flat and much warmer. Thirsty?"

She was. "Not really."

The game had obviously shifted into second gear.

"Drink it anyway," said Lisa's new player, "or prolong the inevitable."
He then stood and left the room and Lisa to her thoughts.

'I hate when they do that,' she winced, figuring the beer was probably spiked.

Since the 60 hour weekend her new mystery man had planned would be a hell of a lot more fulfilling if she just did what she was told, and since good friend Celine's rave reviews made the adventure as safe as a baby's crib, the drugged beverage was gulped empty.

'Once more into the breach,' she quipped as the beer went down, quenching Lisa's thirst to a factor of four, out of a possible ten.


'Where am I?' she wondered as her brain waves rose to a level whereupon the outer-conscious side of her could co-perceive the strange dream she was having. In it, Lisa wandered the halls of a huge house, searching for a bathroom. 'I have to pee.' But every door she tried was locked, and every corridor she walked seemed to go on forever. She was also very sexually aroused. The combination of bladder pressure and sexually driven, sensual stimulation soon inspired a gradually intensified series of physical undulations, all of which dead-ended with the unmistakable knowledge of Lisa's total incapacitation.

'I'm tied up.' she noticed. ('Up' being the operative word here.) 'Who would have guessed?'

She was also, except for her pink-silk panties, naked and stretched in three distended directions. The ball gag, with sponge stuffing, was the first restraint she played with before checking her wrists, which had been crossed and bound with seven feet of quarter inch, nylon line, and tied to what she figured was a post or something above her head.

The feel of something against her spine soon brought her to the realization that she was on her back and lashed to the continuation of that hard, narrow surface. Her legs, too, could feel something under them, but only her ankles were tied to it, spread apart at an angle of about 45 degrees.

But the biggest surprise came when Lisa opened her eyes and stared into what she soon surmised were the upper branches of a large, tree. Then there was the subtle rocking motion that caused a sexy shiver to escape her now-fascinated and very sensually curious awareness.

'I'm tied to the branch of a tree.'

She instinctively rolled her head and eyes right to find out how high she was.

'Wohohoh!' Was all Lisa could think when reality caught up with her in the form of a 30-foot drop to the ground. She fisted her fingers and writhed tentatively a bit to make sure there was no way she could fall. The ropes held her fast and tightly to the Y-shaped branch at the groin, buttocks, waist, and chest, with circles of 3/8ths inch thick line.
‘Holy shit.’

Her breasts were framed attractively, above and below their billowing vulnerability, with three turns of rope. Other ropes held her arms to the branch as well.

'Where's the crotch rope?' she lamented, with distained disappointment.

Lisa was now fully awake and struggling pleasurably for all she was worth in her outrageous predicament. It didn't take long for her pussy to moisten considerably, and for the bladder pressure to reach a level of pleasurable discomfort it had never been on before.

'That was a big mug of beer,' figured Lisa when the diabolical aspect of the offered beverage caught up with her hyperactive reasoning.
The sun was out, but increasing cloudiness suggested a storm might be in the offing. The zero wind velocity also gave further evidence to Lisa's rising suspicions.

'The calm before the storm.'

Before she could worry about the possibilities at hand, the sensation of being slowly lowered overtook her immediate and undivided attention. A rope, tied to the branch directly under her waist, was being drawn down by what felt like a mechanical force, since it remained steady and did not diminish when the bowing of the branch demanded more pulling power than a mere mortal could muster.


The closer Lisa got to the ground, the more aware she became of the rope's origination point. As the angle of her suspension increased, the more she saw of the half-inch thick line below. It ran from the branch to a pulley anchored into the ground in such a way that when her feet were a foot or so off of it, it would be directly under her ass cheeks.

The rope continued along the ground in front of her, and then disappeared into the thick underbrush surrounding the tree's clearing.

'Wow',' was all Lisa could think when she realized the mechanism that brought her to within a few inches of the ground was so far away she couldn't hear the sound of it.

'Have I stepped into it, or what?'

Within less than a minute Lisa's body was in an upright posture. The feel of thick grass tickled her sense of wonder and wild abandon as she carefully writhed herself into a fit of unprecedented, sensual excitement. A look around assured her there were no holes in the foliage to worry about, should a passerby inadvertently come upon the scene's periphery.

"How’re we doing?" asked a familiar male voice from behind Lisa's field of vision.


He walked around in front of her; dressed only in tight fitting, tan cords, and dark brown boots. The riding crop in his right hand raised Lisa's sensual attention another notch or two. He stood between her legs and toyed with her nipples with the end of the crop, while his free hand gently caressed her inner thighs.

"Looks like a storm's getting ready to blow," softly said the new master in Lisa Spears’ life. He drew closer. (It occurred to her that someone else might be controlling the pulley mechanism.)

Our new damsel tried to stretch closer, hoping to rub up against her rigger’s arm. The ropes said ‘NO!’


He took her right nipple in his thumb and index finger and squeezed.


The inner thigh petting also grew intense.


Lisa threw her head back and writhed wildly in her bondage. The wind climbed to 10 MPH. A healthy helping of Icy-Hot ointment was then applied to her nipples, thighs and crotch. The feel of her binder's hand under her panties caused Lisa's delicate fingers to flare and flail expressively. Her tormentor then stepped back and gave her right thigh a taste of what the riding crop had to offer. Its stinging impact had its desired effect.


The second blow landed on her left thigh, the third, the right, and so on and so forth, on and off, for the next several seconds. The sky darkened with gray cloud cover. The wind accelerated to 20 MPH, with an occasional 35 MPH gust, while Lisa both enjoyed and protested every second of the weekend’s first taste of expected torment.

When the whipping stopped, Lisa looked down to watch her new playmate affix a line to the front of the waist ropes, which he guided between her legs, centering it on her crevice before turning and walking away in the same direction the branch tether line led. The crotch rope was very loose, a disappointment over which Lisa immediately grieved.


Meanwhile, the storm continued to furiously upset and toss about everything that wasn't nailed down, while the strokes on Lisa's thighs began to seriously smart, driving the outer reaches of her masochistically prone libido to newer heights of psychosexual appeasement and need.

‘Mother FUCKer!’

It suddenly occurred to her the branch she had come to know so well was slowly lifting off the ground.

'Now what?'

And, of course, there was the ever-present need to pee with which to contend. And to make matters even more impossible, the rope between her legs was now digging deeply into her panties and pussy, thanks to a three-pound, scale weight tied to its dangling end. It had rested on the ground until an altitude of 5 feet had been achieved.

‘What the…?’

Foot by foot, Lisa's pleasurably struggling body was raised up into the wind blown branches of the tree. Higher and higher she climbed, past the 30 foot point at which the episode she'd come to Hempville to experience began, until her body was just a few inches away from the green branches above.

A flash of lightning caused Lisa's bound and bothered body to gyrate uncontrollably in the sudden fear of its instantaneously overwhelming enlightenment. The crackle of thunder soon followed as the wind kicked up to a constant 35 MPH. It was then that the icy-hot cream her playmate had spread so liberally over her breasts, thighs and crotch decided to burn its freezing presence into the mix of Lisa's overwhelmed, physical awareness.

'Good Lord,' she realized, 'this is way too intense for a simple country girl like me.'

But her commitment had already been consummated; her fate sealed by the curiosity she'd so longed to satisfy.

'He's not just going to leave me out here like this.'

The thought took Lisa into new realms of sexual arousal, to levels of fear and pleasure never before enjoyed or withstood within the context of her BDSM experience. Flashbacks of her tree tie at age seven with Cousin Anita caused every muscle memory in her fantasy life to dance crazily with unabashed abandon.

‘This isn’t happening…I must still be dreaming.’

The rope between her legs kept sawing at her pussy in concert with every writhing motion and wind swept conflagration brought on by the ever-intensifying thunderstorm.

'I'll be damned if this isn't the most fantastic thing that's ever happened to me.'

Another, closer bolt of lightning lit up the scene like a cluster of electronic flashes at a heated press conference. One second later, the thunder that followed gave Lisa reason to believe the full fury of the storm would soon be upon her.

'One second, one mile,' she figured as the feel of rough bark dug into her furiously struggling back, arms, ass cheeks and legs. There was simply no way to effectively control the haphazard pressure of the weighted crotch rope, thanks to the several tight turns of thick hemp that held Lisa's upper thighs and lower abdomen to the three prong design of the branch she so loved and hated amidst her increasingly diametric dilemma.

'I hope he knows what he's doing. I sure don't.'

It was then that Lisa realized she was completely upside down and could no longer control her need to pee. It gushed out of her like a fire hose, together with the beginnings of her first multiple. The storm reached its intensity apex and the branches above slapped harshly and without mercy against her wildly twitching and squirming attempts at escape.


A symphony of pain and pleasure, intermingling ominously with the storm sounds and visual effects and Lisa's thoroughly gagged groaning and screaming, made the moment-to-moment impact of surprise whippings from the above branches titillate with no-choice, physical and mental distress.

'Oh-my-God...Oh-my-God...Oh-my-God!' "MMMUHUHUH!!!"

Everything that had been smeared with ointment burned to be touched, scratched, fondled, and satisfied. Every muscle stretched and pulled to heighten the multiple effects now invading Lisa's groin. It started to rain heavily, adding yet another layer of sensual input to the ride, another natural element to deal with.

The branch undulated in concert with the storm as it swung from side to side in violent response to the wind's ever-increasing velocity. The multiple seemed to go on forever, as did the release of hot urine from Lisa's thoroughly violated, self-control. And never mind about the 3-pound weighted crotch rope input her over-the-top concerns were dealing with on a second-by-second basis.

‘Who the fuck AM I, and why the hell is this happening?!

Blanket after blanket of rain bathed her in their powerfully splashing insistence, giving new meaning to the term 'baptism' as the wind peaked at an uncommon 56 MPH and Lisa's final string of spasms slowly tapered off during the final minutes of her more-than-wished-for ordeal.

She stopped struggling to allow nature to run its course with her body, mind, and spirit, and wondered,’ So this is what Celine meant when she said, 'Be prepared for something entirely different'.' And it was only the second hour of the 60 she had agreed to without safe words or predetermined limits.

When the flash storm started tapering off, so did Lisa's passion. By the time both ended, she had fallen asleep, only to dream yet another fantasy-in-the-making, before another, more intense session introduced her experience to yet another layer of reality whereupon the sexually adventurous possibilities of being bound and distressed could again be explored without interruption.

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