1. The Dinner
"Hello! Welcome!"
Helena leaned against the stairwell wall, one hand on the railing as Alex approached her apartment door.
"Good to see you," he said, reaching the landing. "You look beautiful, as usual."
He kissed both her cheeks and handed over a bottle of white wine. She studied the label with theatrical seriousness, then turned toward the kitchen.
"The fish is still in the oven," she called over her shoulder. "Come in before I burn it," she said nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened the last time he was there.
It was not the first time he had visited her apartment. Familiar with every detail—where to leave his shoes, which floorboard creaked underfoot—he followed her toward the scent of rosemary and lemon wafting from the kitchen. The smell, though, was nothing compared to the sight of her.
She wore a pale yellow summer dress, her hair pinned up with effortless elegance. Tonight, she wore green contact lenses—startling against the warmth of her skin. Blue one week, violet another—her changing eyes were her most striking feature.
"Open the wine," she said, while trying to handle the sizzling fish she had just taken out of the oven.
"Yes boss!" Alex smiled, hoping the night would go according to plan.
They had met months ago at a Latin dance class. Helena was impossible to ignore: tall, athletic, precise in every movement. Her changing eyes made her seem like a different woman each week—but she was just wearing colored contact lenses. After spending some time chatting before and after class, he discovered they lived close to each other, so he found it natural to invite her for a drink.
Helena had a master’s in art history, worked for a luxury fashion house, loved Latin music, animals and had once played volleyball. A broken leg from a sports accident had forced her to switch to yoga years before. She had the self-confidence of a woman who believed the universe had peaked when it produced her. Give her five minutes and she would somehow work her latest accomplishment into the conversation, preferably before anyone had asked. She could turn a casual question into a résumé presentation and a coffee chat into an awards ceremony. Yet for all her enthusiasm about herself, she had remarkably little interest in anything beneath the surface. And she was stunning: five feet seven inches tall, with a perfectly toned physique that was clearly visible beneath the tight clothes she used to wear in class.
They started going out for drinks every now and then. Occasionally, she invited him to her place for dinner under the pretext of improving their dance steps.
He never refused her invitations—she was just too beautiful to say no to—but the situation was becoming increasingly frustrating for two main reasons. First, the lady was a bit of a bore. She could spend hours talking about the same two topics: the weeks she had spent in Paris with her friends and her self-promoted career at the company. Second, over the weeks she did not make being friends with her easy. At the end of an evening, she would stretch out goodbyes like they were another dance. A kiss too close to his mouth. Fingers lingering on his arm.
Where was the problem, some may ask, unaware it was just around the corner? Helena had a boyfriend who traveled frequently for work. She never mentioned him, and nobody had ever met him, but he existed. He discovered it one evening when, under her repeated teasing, he went to kiss her, only to have a door slammed in his face and receive a very upset glare. The crazy part? Her behavior remained unchanged, always flirty but ready to put on the brakes whenever things got too heated.
Realizing that she was not someone he wanted a relationship with, Alex had willingly decided to put himself in the friend zone—just another dance class, occasional drinks, no drama.
That might have been the end of it, if not for the last time he visited her apartment. While they were sitting on her sofa, drinking and discussing music, she began leaning against him, touching him so intimately that it left him stunned.
"Don’t do that," he said.
She laughed at first, then grew serious. "Why not?"
"Because you have a boyfriend and you pushed me away last time."
Her facial expression—a shade somewhere between innocent and wounded—irritated him even more.
They talked for nearly an hour in her living room. Her thoughts and feelings were confused. She felt the distance between herself and her boyfriend and she coped by flirting with other men even though she did not really mean it. By the end of the evening, she promised to stop teasing him. He had believed her until he stood up to leave. At the door, she slid behind him, wrapped one arm around his chest, and nibbled into his ear.
Then she laughed and let him go.
Alex walked home upset. He was angry because she had proven how easily she could arouse him. One gesture, one breath against his skin, and all his good intentions became irrelevant. He could not stand being teased that way.
Inspired by his interest in bondage and ropes, he began planning. Over the following weeks, he refused to answer her messages and played the part of the bitter man to lead his plan to the next stage. After her sixth invitation to dinner, he accepted, finally ready to carry out his plan — and tonight was the night.
"So?" Helena asked after they finished eating. "Be honest."
"Honestly? I didn’t know you could cook this well."
Her green eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Alex laughed. "It means dinner was excellent and you’re very easy to provoke."
"You’re impossible."
"And full. Let’s walk into the center and have a beer."
She glanced at the couch. "We could stay here."
"It’s too beautiful outside."
She hesitated, then surrendered with a shrug. "Fine. But you’re buying."
They walked three blocks through the city, which still radiated the day's heat. Alex steered the conversation toward something he had rehearsed.
"There is something I should probably tell you," he said.
"That sounds serious."
"You know how you like to tease me?"
"I have no idea what you mean."
"Come on, that's the reason why I got upset the last time."
"I thought you got over it."
"I have… but you're too smart not to know that you have the power to provoke me—or any other guy, for that matter."
"Do I?" she asked, faking innocence.
"That wouldn't be a problem if only there weren't another side of me you haven't seen yet."
Her smile changed—no longer playful, but attentive.
"What side?"
"I have a hobby, a kink. I like restraining women."
Helena stopped walking: "What do you mean?"
"I like to tie up girls, to see them restrained, especially beautiful girls… Imagine what your body does to me," he confessed.
Still puzzled, she continued: "You’re joking."
"No."
"Like in the movies?"
"Not at all. That's fiction. What I do is negotiated and controlled. Some people find it exciting. Others find it sexual. Some like the stillness, the feeling of being held."
"How can being tied make anyone feel safe?"
"It’s all psychological. It comes from trust in the person, not the restraints. You agree on the limits. You stop when either of you wants to."
She studied him, as if deciding whether he had become more interesting or more dangerous.
"And you’re good at it?"
"Good enough to make it work."
She laughed. "You really do think you’re clever."
"The ropes are in my car."
This time, she stared. "You carry them around?"
"I came prepared to show you if the subject came up."
At the car, he opened the trunk and pulled out a bag. Inside were various lengths of rope, all neatly organized. Helena ran her fingers along the rope.
"You’ve used these on other women?"
"These are new."
"Could you really stop me from moving? Remember, I am strong because I used to play volleyball. And I am very flexible now, too," she said with a smile that was equal parts skeptical, mischievous, and sensual.
"I remember the story. Give me a chance and you can put me to the test."
She hit his shoulder. "Idiot. Let's go upstairs."
2. The challenge
Back at her apartment, she walked to the center of the living room and stretched out her arms: "All right, go ahead! I am ready," she said confidently, but Alex could detect an undercurrent of nervousness in her voice.
Alex needed no further encouragement, but since he was jumping into the sea, he'd better be sure to stick to the basics.
"Not so fast!" he replied, "First things first: before anything else, from now on, whenever you don't feel comfortable you just say RED and I will stop anything ongoing."
"Is this supposed to be a safe word? Wow, just like in the movies," she replied giggling.
"That's exactly what it is, and if you say it I will leave and you will never hear from me again."
Looking at her face, Alex knew this last sentence had sunk in: she nodded but with a hint of disbelief. He began to think his plan might actually work.
"All right, now back to it," he began tying her wrists together in front of her with a simple knot, letting her test the pressure.
"How does it feel? Uncomfortable?"
"Not at all… it's a strange feeling… but not unpleasant" she said, testing her range of movement. He stepped back, letting her move freely. She twisted, searched for slack, and finally pulled one hand free.
"Voilà!" she exclaimed triumphantly, tossing the rope at him. "That was disappointing. Told you you wouldn't be able to restrain me for long."
"It was a demonstration." Alex replied, still laying the bait.
"An excuse to make me wear rope for sixty seconds."
"You sound as if you expected more."
Her expression sharpened. "I tell you what. Tie me properly. Give me fifteen minutes. If I escape, you stop complaining about my teasing until the end of classes."
"And if you don’t?"
"What do you propose?"
"What about letting me have some fun with you?"
"No way I'd agree to that!" she said, hesitating two seconds longer than she should have.
She realized her pause and was quick to make a counteroffer: "I’ll buy beer until the end of classes."
"A modest prize."
"You won’t win."
A competitive spark seemed to pass between them. The game was on.
"What about some music? I don't want you to complain that you're getting bored while I tie you up."
With a newfound competitive spirit, she quickly went over to the iPad to turn on some music, then grabbed his hand and led him into the bedroom.
He was surprised by the move. He had only seen the room as part of a house tour the first time he visited her apartment. "I’ll start with the upper body. Place each hand on the opposite elbow." She complied, and he began wrapping the rope around her wrists. Then he looped it twice around her chest, just under her breasts, and tied the first knot. Another loop went over her breasts, securing the tie.
"How do you feel?"
"I guess okay, I can’t really move."
"That’s good. But don’t wriggle too much yet, I haven’t finished." He said, pretending to worry. "I’ll just add another rope to the upper body—it’ll be quick."
He cinched another rope around the knot, passing it under her armpits and around her neck before tying it back.
"Done. I’ll help you lie on the bed face down since I have to do your legs." He wrapped her chest with his arms and helped her lie on the bed.
"Now your ankles," he said, looping another rope around her ankles and passing it through the loop at the back of her chest to pull her feet close.
She moaned slightly as he tightened it.
Finally, he tied the end of the rope at the loop in her legs.
"Here you are. How is it? Feeling restrained?"
"Hmmm, I do, but it’s not too uncomfortable," she said, testing the restraints.
"Okay, then you have fifteen minutes to get out of this."
"Fifteen? It’s not enough!"
"The tie isn’t very complicated. If you can’t get out in fifteen minutes, you never will. Let me set a timer on my phone and put it on the nightstand where you can see it. Ready? Steady, go!"
As she watched the seconds tick down on the phone display, she started moving to free herself.
"I’ll just sit here to watch over you in case you need help."
He sat admiring her struggle, finding it funny how she believed she could escape. Which she would… Alex already knew the outcome of this game. He was simply pulling the strings to bring about the outcome he wanted.
After a few minutes she freed her wrists and began working to get her elbows free. That took only a little more time before she started undoing the rope between her legs and feet.
"Ta-da!" she said, tapping the phone to stop the countdown and striking a winning pose.
"Four minutes and thirty-eight seconds left! You lose!" she exclaimed triumphantly.
"Yes," he admitted with a resigned expression, "but that was close. I have to admit you’re good."
"Yes, I am," she said, flexing her biceps. "And now it's time to collect my prize," she whispered in his ear.
"Double or nothing," he avoided her grasp, faking a pissed-off look.
"No way. You lost."
"You escaped because you watched every knot."
"Excuses, excuses…"
"Then do it blindfolded."
She thought about it for a second: "Same rules?"
"Exactly the same."
"And thirty minutes."
"You think you need twice as long?"
"I think I want you to have no excuses when you lose again."
Alex quickly pulled out a blindfold from the rope bag and put it on Helena.
The blindfold changed her. With her eyes covered, she had no audience for her bravado. She listened more carefully, moved more slowly, one hand on his forearm as he guided her back toward the bed.
"Still all right?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Tell me the stop signal."
"The color of fire! Now stop delaying your inevitable defeat."
He laughed at her exclamation, and she did too when she heard him. The initial tension had faded. For a moment, they sounded like two friends chatting casually at a bar. The perfect mood for him to act.
He started to bind her wrists together behind her back, then he wrapped her elbows together, passing the rope first around her body, below her armpits and at the back of the neck. Then, he made her kneel down on the bed and started to wrap each folded leg around the upper part of her thigh and her ankle.
This time he did not spare any slack in the ropes or the knots. He wondered what she was thinking about her predicament. At this point she really was helpless, mostly because he had tied all the knots far from her fingers.
Then, just as before, he helped her lie on the bed face down.
"Ok, now you have thirty minutes to get out of this. The timer will ring after fifteen minutes and five minutes before the end. Ready? Go!"
She attacked the challenge with the same energy as before, but the blindfold made every movement uncertain. The bed creaked beneath her. Her breathing quickened. Alex watched her test one direction, abandon it, and try another.
While watching her movements, he imagined what she might be thinking. But he had to concentrate. He had work to do while she was busy trying to get free.
Helena was in a panic now. After the first minute of struggling, she understood that escape was out of the question. She could not accept it though and kept fighting desperately against the ropes.
When the first alarm rang, he asked: "How is it going?"
"Almost free!" she panted. It was an excellent lie. He had to admit, though, that her stamina and inner strength were first-class.
With five minutes remaining, she had made no meaningful progress. Sweat darkened the fabric of her dress which started to stick to her. Alex offered water and a break. She refused both.
"Don’t distract me." she said, increasing the struggle.
The final alarm sounded. The resistance left her body all at once, and she lay still on the sheet.
"Damn, you win…" she moaned "… would you untie me now?"
The words should have ended the game. Instead, Alex heard only the part that served him: You win.
"Told you this time would be much more difficult. But since I'm feeling merciful, I’ll give you another chance. One last position."
She was quiet.
"You can always say no."
"How long?"
"Ten minutes."
"And then you untie me."
"Yes."
He unwrapped her legs and tied each ankle to each corner of the bed frame. He repeated the process with her upper body, tying each wrist to a bedpost at the opposite corner.
Helena's head was spinning. She definitely had not expected the night to go like this, but at that moment she could not think straight. She had been tied up by a friend and, although exhausted, she liked the rush of sensations she was experiencing.
Lost in her thoughts and sensations she started moaning louder than before.
Seeing her reaction, Alex decided to go all in.
"I feel you're enjoying this a bit too much." She heard his words, then felt something entering her mouth. Alex had placed a panel gag to muffle her mewling. Then, with one swift movement he managed to unhook the strings of her dress, slipping it off and leaving her wearing only her panties.
"Mmmmhmhhhhhh, wwww daaaa uuuuu," she screamed and wiggled more intensely than before.
Alex interpreted her reaction as a "How dare you!". Good, he thought, still no safeword. What if she was actually enjoying it?
Helena felt the heat waves of rage riding her cheeks. She also noticed some moisture between her legs, adding embarrassment to the confusing mixture of sensations. She did not know what to think, how to react. Not that she had any possibility of reacting. She could only lie spread-eagled in her captivity.
Then she felt something circling her waist and pressing upward against her sensitive areas. "This is called a crotch rope. I secured it to the top post of the bed, so it won't come off. I thought you might like a little distraction while trying to get free. You get your ten minutes starting now."
Helena was so caught up in the whole situation that she had completely forgotten the challenge. And this new element just felt too good.
Alex could not believe his eyes. Slowly, she began moving her hips against the rope, then she grabbed the ropes tied at her wrists and started to rock her whole body, pulling the rope from the top and the bottom.
In less than a minute, her hips were rhythmically moving until her body suddenly tensed and a muffled growl exploded—so powerful it could have shattered the windows if she hadn’t been gagged.
Her body went limp, completely exhausted.
Alex sat beside her, removing her blindfold, caressing her forehead and hair until she recovered. Helena, usually in constant expressive motion, had become still. She suddenly seemed docile, sated. After some minutes, he started working on the ties on her wrists by partially loosening them.
When he felt she had recovered, he got up from the bed, leaving her lying there.
"Ghgg?" She looked at him puzzled.
"It’s time for me to go. It’s kinda late."
"Mmmmpffooo," she said, shaking her body again.
Alex knew this was not the way to manage aftercare, but this time he wanted to play hardball, he knew she could handle it. "You played a great game. I loosened the ropes on your wrists. You’ll be able to free yourself in a few minutes. You already know how it works." He ended with a smile. "And remember the stakes, you owe some drinks, so call me soon. I am looking forward to it," he said while kissing her head.
Her eyes were shooting daggers at him. "Anything else to say?" he added just to make sure the magic word would not be said by the captive, but all he could hear was some unintelligible mumbling. Satisfied, he collected what was left of his stuff and left.
"Have a good night!" he shouted before slamming the apartment door behind him.
Helena was speechless, not only because she could not utter a word, but also because of what had just happened. She freed herself in a few moves and found herself sitting on the bed, half-naked, looking at the rope marks on her skin and thinking about the unexpected turn of events of that evening. She slipped under the sheets and continued thinking about what had happened until exhaustion finally overcame her and she fell into a deep sleep.
3. The Next Day
Alex’s phone buzzed at ten the next morning while he was pretending to work.
Message: U monster. Do u realize what you did? I’m still thinking about it. Ur the worst.
The tone was impossible to read— angry, embarrassed, perhaps both? He typed half a dozen replies and deleted them. In the end, he wrote:
Are you all right?
The answer did not come.
He should have felt anxious. Maybe. Instead, he felt an unnatural calm: she would message him again.
As if fulfilling a prophecy, in the afternoon the phone buzzed again.
I still don’t understand last night. Let’s have a drink tonight. I owe you one, apparently. My place, 20:00
Ok
No emoji, no joke, no colored heart. He told himself that this was only because she wanted to appear serious.
But he could not keep a grin from spreading across his face: he was already tasting the grand finale.
Alex rang her bell at eight. Her voice came through the intercom.
"I’m ready. Wait downstairs."
She emerged a minute later in a plain dark dress and flat shoes. Her eyes were dark red tonight, as if reflecting her inner thoughts.
"Let’s go," she said.
She walked beside him without touching his arm. The silence between them felt deliberate, a room she had built and did not intend to let him enter.
At the pub, they chose a table near the window. Helena ordered two beers before he could remind her of the wager. For a while, she watched the foam settle in her glass.
"I feel strange about yesterday," she said at last. "I did not think it would end that way, or that I would enjoy any of it."
"I respected the rules," he said.
"Mostly. You kept pushing for one more round, one more position, one more time. I agreed, yes. But you knew I was confused."
"Did I?" he asked with an expression worthy of a poker champion.
"For God's sake, you undressed me" she said a bit too loudly, then looked around to check whether anyone had heard her.
"You could have stopped anytime."
"That's what I have been asking myself all day. Why didn’t I?"
She took a sip, then set the glass down carefully.
"Did I like it? Maybe yes, maybe not. Nevertheless, this ends here. I won’t tease you anymore. We can be civil at dance class. I'll buy you beer, but no more evenings alone."
That was the moment Alex had been waiting for. He unlocked his phone and placed the screen in front of her.
"It is a little late for promises," he said.
At first, she did not understand what she was seeing. Then her face emptied. She scrolled once. Twice.
"You took these?"
"While you were blindfolded."
"We said no photographs."
"Never heard of it. You look beautiful. You should be a model."
"Delete them."
"I have copies."
Her gaze moved from the screen to him. The disbelief was almost childlike.
Alex leaned closer and lowered his voice. "What do you think your boyfriend would say if he saw them?"
"You wouldn’t."
"Maybe. I bet he would not understand the context. People rarely do."
"What do you want?"
The question sent a current of satisfaction through him. He had been waiting weeks to hear those words, though hearing them aloud should have made him ashamed.
"Nothing difficult," he said. "From time to time, when I call, you come. We play by my rules. I treat you well, and the photos remain private."
Helena did not move. Her hand stayed around his phone, but she no longer seemed to see it.
"You planned this," she said.
Alex smiled. "Not all of it. You surprised me."
"You planned enough."
For the first time that evening, her voice was shaking.
He reached across the table and took the phone from her fingers. "You don’t have to answer now. I’ll wait at your apartment. After last night, I think you owe me more than a beer."
She looked at him as though he were someone she had never met. Perhaps he was.
Alex stood, finished his drink, and left enough money for both beers. Outside, the streets were bright with shop windows and summer traffic. Above the rooftops, clouds covered the moon.
He did not look back at the pub. If he had, he might have seen Helena already reaching for her own phone. He might have noticed that her shock had hardened into calculation, or wondered whom she intended to call.
Instead, Alex walked toward her apartment with the calm certainty of a man who believed possession was the same as victory. Only one thought remained in his mind:
"Helena is mine!"