Emily's Return

by John Mahler

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© Copyright 2011 - John Mahler - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; bond; rope; harness; crotchrope; hogtie; cons; X

Sequel to Emily's First Time

After her parents returned from their business trip, I didn’t see Emily again for a while; she was going to college, while I worked the night shift in a warehouse.

Don’t knock it: it pays well, and you meet some great people there.

Like I said, I didn’t see Emily for a while.

I was coming home from the graveyard shift: the sun was just starting to rise over the horizon, the birds were chirping, the air was still and quiet, and I was falling over asleep on my feet.

I stumbled up the stairs to my ground-floor apartment, when I was greeted by a sight I completely did not expect.

Emily stood on my porch, smiling nervously at me; Short, about 5’1’’, blond, pale skin, wearing a short skirt, white blouse, tube socks and sneakers.

To her right was a young Asian lady; she wore her black silky hair long and tied in the back in a ponytail: about 5’5’’, she wore a loose sweatshirt, shorts, and sandles.

On Emily’s left was a young black lady: about 5’6’’, a delicate face, lean and long-limbed, she wore her hair long in braids, a suede jacket over a white shirt, brown miniskirt, white knee socks, and yellow pumps.

Behind them all stood a lady, a little older than them; about 5’11’, a shock of briliant red hair, freckled skin; she wore a pullover sweater, jeans, cowboy boots, and a critical expression; they all carried backpacks slung across their shoulders

“Hi.” Emily said, after giving me time to look them over.

“Hi.” I replied. “What can I do for you?”

“Well-” she began awkwardly “-I found a club in college for people interested in- well. . .”

“We’re from the BDSM club.” The Asian lady interrupted her. “Emily’s told us a lot about you, so some of us decided to come and see if you're as good as she says.”

I will admit, I was somewhat taken aback by her forwardness. “O-kaaay.” I said, my brain not going quite full speed (remember, I had worked all night). “Would you like to come in?”

They assented, so I opened the door and shoed them into my small apartment: not much, a living room, dining room-kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and library (it used to be a two-bedroom apartment, but I live alone).

I showed them into the living room, and offered to make tea for everyone.

“Tea?” The Asian girl, Lucy, exclaimed.

“Yeah, tea,” I repeated, “I don’t have coffee or anything like that.” I don’t like coffee, you see.

They were not interested in tea, so we got down to business. “Before we begin, our friends all know where we are, and they’ll be coming by to pick us up.” The Irish-looking maid, Angela, said flatly; I got the feeling that she did not think highly of me.

Emily glanced at her, then smiled apologetically at me. “I’m sorry for the short notice,” she said, “but we just got a day’s vacation, so we didn’t have much time to call you.”

“That’s okay.” I said. “Just spit it out: what do you want to do?”

“Well-” she glanced at Angela uncertainly.

“I want a demonstration,” Angela said, a bit belligerently, “I want you to tie me up so I can’t escape.”

I blinked at her, and shrugged. “Okay,” I glanced around a bit helplessly. “I’m afraid I’m kinda short on rope right now-”

As one, they opened their backpacks to reveal coils of rope, some leather straps, handkerchiefs, bandannas, and even a couple pairs of handcuffs.

“Okay.” I said with a nod. “You came prepared; okay, you wanna do it right here?”

For answer, she stood up and pulled off her sweater; she wore no shirt beneath, then kicked off her boots and shimmied out of her jeans, leaving her standing in my living room in nothing but a grey bra and panties (not fancy, but certainly comfortable-looking).

I had her sit on the footstool, and explained my method to her: every time I put a piece of rope on her, I’d ask her ‘what now?’ Then she could answer ‘forward’ which meant to put more on, ‘pause’ which meant wait a minute so she could see how it felt, or ‘back’ which meant to take it off.

“Just tie me up already!” She said with an exasperated sigh.

“Look, this is how I do this!” I snapped at her. “You don’t have to like it, but that’s the only way I’m putting rope on you!”

For a moment, we glared at each other, then she sighed, and glanced away. “Whatever.”

Their rope was already cut to handy lengths; I took a four-foot length of thin rope. “Cross your hands behind your back.”

She obeyed; I grabbed her wrists and lashed the rope about them, tying her hands together just above her barely-clad ass (which, now I saw it from close up, was a very attractive ass; too bad the attitude went with it).

“What now?” I asked.

“For-ward.” She said, and rolled her eyes.

A bit incensed, I took another piece, about eight feet long; I tied it crosswise to the rope already there, so her wrists and ropes made a compass; taking the long tail of rope, I instructed her to stand up.

She did so easily, which surprised me: it is pretty hard to stand up without your hands for balance; she obviously had a lot of practise.

Oh, right; BDSM club. I mentally facepalmed.

I walked around to Angela’s front; ignoring her glare, I pulled the rope around her left hip to her belly, then pulled it down between her legs; careful not to actually touch her there yet, I put my arm around and grabbed the end.

Back behind her, I took the rope and tightly wove it into the ropes around her wrists; there was still a long bit left, so I pulled it around her other hip; I carefully grabbed the crotchrope and pulled it out until I could slip the end through. “Brace yourself.” I said, and jerked on the end.

She gasped as the crotchrope tightened; hiding a smirk, I tied the end tight, then passed it through her legs back to her wrists, then tied it off. “What now?”

“Forward.” She said; but there was little less- oh, what’s the word? Arrogance? Sureness? Confidence? Whatever it was, my tying was making an impression on her. And not just the tight rope between her legs!

The other three member of the BDSM club watched my tying with rapt attention; Lucy turned to the black girl, Susan, she had introduced herself as, and whispered something in her ear; Susan nodded.

I had no idea what to make of that, so I continued.

Next, I ordered Angela to sit down again, then took a short piece of rope and tied her ankles: nothing fancy, just a few wraps cinched tight. “What now?”

“Forward.” She said, confident once more.

I did the same for her knees: “what now?”

“Forward.” Angela repeated.

I took a very long rope, about fourteen feet, and tied one end just below her left elbow; hauling on it, I pulled it around to her front, then wrapped it across her chest (above her breasts) then wrapped it below her right elbow; once I was sure everything was in place, I took a firm grip on the rope. “Brace yourself.” I said again, and pulled on it.

The rope dragged her elbows out and forward, pinning them in place; it also pulled on her wrists, tightening the ropes tied around them, and pulled the crotchrope even tighter.

I tied it off, then took the long end and wrapped it back across her chest (below the breasts this time); I tied it to her left arm, above the elbow, then pulled it across her back, and tied it above her right elbow.

I still had a good bit of rope, and I made quick use of it: wrapping it back and forth from arm to arm, criss-crossed around her breasts, forming an ‘x’ between them.

“What now?” I asked, tying off the bare end.

“Pause.” Angela said for the first time: I think this latest tie really threw her: a chest harness is perfectly normal, I knew, but this one I did is (so far as I know) unique to me.

She spent a minute or so, twisting in her bonds; she grunted and wriggled until sweat shone on her naked skin; it may have been sweat that stained the crotch of her grey panties; I think the other ladies noticed that too, and had to smother giggles.

I must admit the sight of a nigh-naked woman sweaty and struggling in tight ropes excited me; they noticed that too, and made less effort to hide their giggles at that.

After a while, Angela ceased her wriggling: “okay; forward.”

I took a piece of rope, abour six feet long; I tied one end to the middle of the harness rope behind her back, then took the loose end up over her shoulder, beside her neck, to the front.

I wrapped it through the juncture of ropes between her breasts, tied it tightly there, then took the trailing end back up around the other side of the neck and down her back, where I tied it to the same place as the other end; the harness was now complete. “What now?”

“Forward.” She said, after a moment’s hesitation; I think she was nervous, now: I got the sense she hadn’t been so nervous about being tied up for a long time.

I shooed Lucy and Susan off the loveseat, then picked up Angela in my arms and brought her over to it; she gave me an odd look as I gently carried her; what it meant, I had no idea.

I carefully put her on her belly, making sure her face was clear of the cushions. “Now I’m gonna hogtie you, alright?”

She nodded, watching me silently, the odd look still in her eye.

I grabbed a rope eight feet long, then grabbed her feet and pull them up; I tied one end to the rope about her knees, making sure the knot was away from her hands, then pulled the rope taut and wrapped it through the rope on her ankles. “I think you’re very experienced at this” I said to Angela, “I want you to know, I wouldn’t try this with someone new to it.”

I took the long rope, and threaded it through the back rope of the harness, between the ends of the last rope; bracing my hand on her shoulder, I pulled hard on it, pulling her feet forward into the classic hogtie pose.

When she made no sound, I kept pulling on Angela’s legs; they went very far forward, almost up to her waist before she grunted, and I stopped.

I took the end and pulled it down and around the bound wrists, then up again to the harness rope and tied it off. “There, done: try to get out of that.”

Immediately, Angela exploded into fury; pulling, twisting, wrenching at her bonds; I honestly thought the thinner ropes might snap under the assault she gave them!

But they held, and matter how she wriggled and fought, she could not loose herself from the ropes: the way she went, I do think she could have gotten out of the crotch rope or the chest harness, but the I tied them together with the hog-rope meant she could not get out of the crotch rope without getting out of the chest harness, and vise-versa: if she tried to go down to get out of the crotchrope, the chest harness tightened, and trying to go up pulled on the crotchrope.

She was stubborn though; kept going for almost ten minutes before she slowed, shoulders heaving for breath and her naked skin sheened sweat.

A thought occured to me, and I grabbed her by the shoulder and hip, then rolled her over on her side to face the room, and her three fellows. “There,” I said, “That should loosen the ropes a little, make it easier for you.”

I said it to make her mad, I admit; she glared at me, bared her teeth, and set to again.

As she struggled, I watched her friends; almost unconsciously, Susan began rubbing her breasts; Lucy watched her struggles with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open, and Emily was softly rubbing the crotch of her skirt.

Her underwear was soaked through, the sweat making her bra almost transparent, her erect nipples clearly visible; her panties were also soaked, but not necessarily only with sweat. As her struggles slowed, Angela’s grunts turned to moans and she concentrated on pulling on the crotchrope.

Angela finally stumbled to a halt, breathing like a bellows; she glanced at her friends, and closed her eyes, as if to avoid their fascinated stares.

Well,” Emily finally broke the silence. “What do yoiu think, Angela?”

Angela nodded. “She’s very good.” She opened her eyes and glanced at me. “Very good.” She repeated softly.

“Who’s next?” Lucy said suddenly.

“What?” I said, and suddenly, I felt every hour it had been since I slept last. “No, I’m sorry ladies; I just got off the night shift, I gotta get some sleep.”

They groaned and protested, but eventually acquiesced, and began gathering their stuff while I went to untie Angela. “Wait,” Angela said suddenly.

“Can- can I stay here, like this?” She said, uncertainly.

They all glanced at me.

I was too tired to deal. “Yeah, fine, just- every one else, scoot!”

After a quick discussion, The other three agreed; they’d be back to pick up Angela in a few hours; with many back looks, they finally left.

I locked the door behind them, then leaned my head against the solid wood.

I was too tired for this.

Angela watched me cautiously as I re-entered the living room. “Come on,” I said, sliding my arms under her to pick her up. “If you’re going to be tied up like that, I’m not gonna leave you by yourself.”

She did not protest as I picked her up in my arms and carried her into the bedroom, and laid her down on her side on the narrow bed.

I slid onto the other side of the bed; I sleep lying on my side, so I found myself looking her right in the face. “You all right?” I asked.

She nodded, “Mhm-hmm.”

“Okay.” The soft hands of sleep were tugging insistently at me, but a nugget of curiousity made me open my eyes and ask: “how many times have you been unable to escape from ropes?”:

She glanced away hesitantly. “Never,” she said finally, “you’re the first person to ever keep me from escaping.”

“Really?” I asked, a trifle disbelievingly. “Even when you were a little girl?”

She nodded. “The first time I was tied up, I was seven, playing Cowboys and Indians with my brother and his friends; whatever they did, I escaped every time.”

“You clearly enjoy it.” I remarked.

She sighed, and her eyes focused on something far away. “Yeah, I like it, I’m a bit of a control freak; I want to be able to get away from anything anyone else tries to control me.” There was an unspoken word just screaming to be said.

So I did: “but?”

She sighed again. “But sometimes, I like- not being in control.” She looked me in the eye. “Is that sick?”

“No!” I protested. “Everybody, there are times when they like to be in control, and there are times they like not being in control; and some people like being in control or being not in control in different ways; that doesn’t make you sick.” I drew a breath, thinking quickly. “It’s not your desires that make you sick, it’s how you express them that can make you sick: you like being not in control in a situation like this; I like being in control in a situation like this.” I softly rubbed her naked hip to emphasize the point. “Does that make me sick? No, I don’t think so; if I wanted to express my desire for control by hurting you, then that would make me sick.”

She nodded thoughtfully, then shivered.

“You cold?” I asked. She had sweated a lot, and it was not a warm day; needless to mention, she wasn’t wearing much either!

She nodded again.

“Here,” I said; I pulled the vocers out from under her, then pulled them up to her shoulders.

I slipped beneath the sheet myself and put my arm around her. “That okay?”

She grinned, and wriggled until she was pressed against my chest;

With a sigh, she laid her head on the pillow, and we fell asleep that way; pressed peacefully against me, my arm wrapped around her.

Author’s note: if you are going to try a chest harness like the one here, you must be very careful when pulling on the ropes; this sort of thing can easily leave ropeburn.