The foundations of this tale are based on real events...with a large helping of fantasy added for good measure.
I won’t bore you with a long story about how I came to be bound that Friday evening. Suffice to say that visits to see my rigger, Sarah, occurred on a frequent and regular basis, by which I mean maybe two or three times a week. On these occasions I would go to her house, have her tie me up, gag me and usually leave me that way for several hours while she watched television, did her housework or - very occasionally - went out for the night. Although Sarah and I had had a brief fling together a couple of years previous to the incident that I am about to document, we weren’t in a relationship at this time. We were, however, still work colleagues, and my after-hours visits served to sate my appetite for being kept in tight, inescapable bondage. Sarah’s views on this arrangement hovered somewhere between fascination and indifference, and up to now I had never really sussed out her true feelings on the subject. But the fact that she was willing to help me live out my ‘kidnapped by a beautiful woman’ fantasies was all I needed at the time. Simply being rendered helpless and left for an unknown length of time was something I’d always enjoyed experiencing, and the fact that I could now indulge in this pleasure every few days was all I really desired from our relationship. And Sarah was quite willing to go along with my strange little games, provided that I didn’t take up too much of her time.
Up until the incident in question, our sessions had followed a fairly regular pattern. I would turn up at the attractive divorcee’s house around seven o’clock and would immediately submit to whatever bonds Sarah thought fitting that particular evening. I provided all the bondage equipment needed for her to keep me in check. These items included handcuffs, gags, blindfolds, arm-binders, a leather straitjacket, chains, hoods, duct tape and, of course, a great deal of rope. As soon as I arrived, I would be taken upstairs and Sarah would proceed to restrain me by whatever method she fancied that night, and in whichever position she chose. Sometimes I would be bound sitting on an upright chair, sometimes to the bed. At other times I would be hog-tied, frog-tied or ball-tied. Sometimes I would be tethered to some immovable object, at others packed into a locked wardrobe. The only constant in all this was the fact that, once bound, I could take it for granted that I wouldn’t be getting out without assistance. I’m not sure where she learnt her skills, but OMG could that girl tie!
On this particular evening, I had turned up as normal and was ushered upstairs into the spare bedroom, where Sarah usually chose to do the rigging. As always, I was dressed in my favourite outfit, namely a pair of silky-smooth black tights, over which I had poured myself into a shiny black spandex cat-suit that fitted me like a second skin. Sarah was also dressed all in black; a too-tight silk blouse which highlighted her lovely round breasts; a shorter-than-short leather mini skirt that barely covered her pert butt, and tights that shimmered in the light and swished as she walked. Within seconds of arriving in this room, she had opened my bag of bondage equipment and located the items she was going to use on me tonight. I smiled as I watched her readying the black leather single-sleeve arm-binder, as I knew that the moment my arms were secured in this I would be powerless to get free.
And this notion was soon confirmed, as I willing submitted to the soft fabric that Sarah quickly and expertly sheathed my arms within. Buckling the attached straps around my shoulders and pulling the lacing that ran the length of the mitten as tightly as she could, my hands were now useless to me.
Sitting me down on the bed, without discussion, Sarah quickly gagged me by my favoured method. This entailed inserting a pair of rolled up tights into my mouth, then lashing several circuits of strongly bonding grey duct tape around my lower head, to effectively seal the wad of nylon/Lycra inside. She was just about to begin binding my legs, when the doorbell rang.
“Ah, that’ll be the girls. You stay there while I go and let them in.”
I don’t know if I made some surprised or enquiring sound through my gag at this point, or whether it was the look of shock on my face that made Sarah decide to explain further.
“I asked Wendy, Kelly and Sandy to come around tonight. They said they were keen to know what we got up to when you came around here in the evenings, so I promised to show them. You don’t mind, do you?”
The question – said with a sly, mischievous smile on her face – was obviously a rhetorical one, as she immediately exited the room, giving me no time to try to protest.
To tell the truth, I wasn’t really sure how I felt about this unexpected turn of events at that particular moment. Part of me was mortified that another three of my work colleagues were about to see me in my spandex finery, all bound, gagged and helpless. But on the other hand, something inside of me was finding the whole thing rather arousing. Secretly, I’d always found the idea of being held captive by a group of women very appealing, and the thought of now being paraded in front of three, all of whom were known to me, was getting me quite excited. But what would happen then? Had they all conspired together on this, or was this all Sarah’s doing? Had they planned some special event or activity for me? And if so, was it something that I would enjoy? These questions, and many more besides, kept running through my head as I heard the front door open and an excited conversation commence.
My mind was in too much of a whirl to take in all they were chatting about, and at some points in the conversation they seemed to lower their voices, presumably so that I wouldn’t be able to overhear them. But one splash of dialogue that did reach my ears was when Kelly asked “Is he upstairs?” to which Sarah replied in the affirmative.
So they knew I was on the premises. Now I could only wait in my helplessness to discover whether they would be brought in to see me, or if I would be led downstairs to by inspected – and probably ridiculed, teased and humiliated – by them.
Around five minutes must have elapsed – although in truth it felt like much longer – before I heard a solitary set of footsteps once more mount the stairs. The door opened and in walked Sarah; that same smile as before etched on her face. She was clearly enjoying my confusion.
“Okay, let’s get you ready for your big entrance.”
Picking out two stout leather belts from my bag of bondage equipment, she quickly encircled these around me – one at my chest, the second around my waist - encompassing my already trapped arms within their constricting circumference, so that they were now lashed to my body. A leather dog collar quickly followed around my neck, to which my rigger attached a chain approximately eighteen inches in length.
Getting me to stand up, she inspected her captive for a few seconds. Then, once she was satisfied that I was in a fit state to be presented to her visitors, she took hold of the chain and led me out of the room; the large hold-all bag with all my unused bondage equipment in her other hand. As we descended the stairs, the noise of idle chit-chat from Sarah’s three invited guests increased in volume, and as we reached the ground floor and made our way towards the open living room door, my mind was working overtime, wondering what the reaction of these women would be to my appearance- not only my bondage, but also the nature of my outfit. Had Sarah already primed them about my spandex and tights fetish? Or were they completely oblivious to the scene that was about to greet them? Would they be impressed? Or simply mock me? I felt a shiver course through me. But this, I realised, was only partially stimulated by fear. As we neared the door, I found myself becoming increasingly excited by the prospect of being inspected and scrutinised by these females, and I felt the first hint of an erection begin to strain against the tightly fitting garments that would leave nothing to the imagination.
Sarah’s entrance into the living room, with me in tow, had the effect of silencing Kelly, Wendy and Sandy for a few seconds, as they all looked me up and down. Kelly, dressed in t-shirt and black leggings, stood by the window. Sandy, in tight jeans and equally well fitting t-shirt, stood on the other side of the room by the fireplace. Between them, in an arm chair, sat Wendy; her short skirt having ridden up to reveal long legs in sheer black tights, the top two buttons of her white silk blouse undone. She stood up as we entered the room. All three had wine glasses in their hands. None of them seemed particularly surprised to see me in my current state.
In an obvious attempt to show off my attire and bonds from every angle, Sarah led me around the floor, before finally coming to a halt in the centre of the room; explaining as she did so, the method by which I was gagged. Kelly was the first of the guests to speak.
“Wow, I know you said he liked being tied up, but this is really quite spectacular Sarah.”
So they did already know about my addiction to bondage! In some ways I felt that my trust in Sarah had been betrayed, since I’d always assumed that she would keep her promise of not telling a soul about our secret sessions. But on the other hand, part of me was delighted that she had.
As I’ve already mentioned, being tied up and held in long term restraint by a gang of beautiful women had always been one of my most treasured fantasies. So the fact that I was now being held captive in the presence of four such females was a dream come true. And the fact that none seemed shocked by the way Sarah had me tied, suggested that none of them would be making the case for my release in the near future. In fact, as Sarah excused herself momentarily to go into the kitchen to get herself a glass of wine, the whispered hints and knowing smiles exchanged by the other three seemed to suggest that it would be a long time until I once again tasted freedom. Little did I realise at the time, that these three had their own agenda that even Sarah was oblivious to.
Upon Sarah’s return, the discussion turned to how they were going to spend this evening. The general consensus was a DVD and lots of wine. But before they could settle down in front of the television, a decision had to be made as to what was to be done with me.
“Shall we tie his legs now?”
“Well, we’re going to have to tie them at some point, so we might as well get it over and done with straightaway. That way we’ll know that he’ll stay put and won’t try to run away.”
The fact that the decision had already been reached to bind my legs at some indeterminate time this evening, suggested that I wasn’t going to be released for several hours yet. But this suited me just fine.
Taking several lengths of white rope from my bag, Sarah began to tie my legs at the ankles, as well as both just below and just above the knees; explaining as she did so about finding the bight, reverse tension, cinching, and how and where to secure the knots. Once she’d finished, my limbs were securely welded together, and my tentative but unsuccessful attempts to slip free were greeted with both laughter and gentle rebukes.
“If you get free of those ropes we’ll just have to tie you up even tighter, Steve. Now keep still and be quiet.”
Pouring themselves more wine, the four females began looking through the DVD options available. For a minute or two they seemed to forget all about me. But then, Sandy looked up and caught me watching the proceedings.
“You know girls, I don’t think Steve is really going to be interested in any of these films. Didn’t you say something about a hood that you put over his head sometimes Sarah?”
Both Kelly and Wendy agreed that a sight restrictor would be a welcome addition to my restraints. So without further ado, Sarah retrieved my leather hood from the stash of equipment, and passed it to each of the others for inspection. All agreed that applying this claustrophobic covering would be an excellent idea. Sarah took the hood back from Wendy and walked over to where I sat on the sofa. What followed was a demonstration to the assembled women of how to place the hood over my head, align the nose holes – the only facial apertures in an otherwise unbroken sheet of soft leather – over my nostrils, and tie the lacing at the back of my head so that the whole thing wouldn’t slip. I next felt Sarah’s hands gliding smoothly over the contours of my face, to ensure that the clinging mask was pressed as close to my skin as possible. Then the hood’s attached straps were wrapped around my head and secured tightly; one across my lower face, the second across my eyes.
“There, quite impressive isn’t it? Not only can he not see a thing anymore, but it also reinforces the gag and ensures that we won’t be hearing much more than a whimper out of him for the rest of the evening.”
I felt a hand push me backwards into the soft padding of the sofa.
“Okay, if any of you want to examine his bonds, to make sure I haven’t left anything too loose, then please feel free.”
All of a sudden, I experienced the wonderful sensation of several pairs of female hands checking and rechecking the ropes around my legs, the efficiency of the arm-binder and the tightness of the hood. Not only that, but their fingers gently caressed the skin-tight black spandex of my attire all over my legs and body; teasing and tantalising me in my helplessness. For a few seconds, a hand plunged deeply between my thighs, causing me to become erect almost immediately. Unfortunately, this contact was all too fleeting, before the fingers withdrew; leaving me - as I’m sure my tormentor knew only too well – frustrated but excited. After a few more minutes of this wonderful stroking and exploring of my bound form, the girls seemed to tire of the game, at which point the hands ceased their sweet tortuous errands, and I was left to my own devices.
The switching on of the television soon informed me that I was no longer the primary source of amusement in the room. Soon their movie was underway, although how much attention they were paying to the flickering images on the screen seemed debatable, given the fact that they seemed to spend the whole time talking and laughing. As the evening progressed, I could tell from the way the conversations became increasingly frivolous and loud, that the three guests were becoming ever more inebriated, as more bottles of wine were opened and consumed. Every so often, reference would be made to me; the fact that it was a shame that I couldn’t join the party; that I was missing a really good film; that I was very quiet this evening etc. etc. Comments such as these, without fail, elicited howls of laughter and fits of giggles from the assembled group.
Being unable to see, speak or move, I was simply left with no choice but to sit and listen to their mocking comments and goading banter. Every so often, I would shift my position on the sofa, or stretch my legs to ease the stiffness that immobility induced. These could in no way be interpreted as me attempting to free myself – at least this was what I would have assumed. But each movement was instantly seized upon, and a terse “keep still” or “stop moving around” would issue from the mouth of Sandy, Wendy or Kelly. Clearly they were all watching me like hawks. This would then be followed by the threat of further restraints being administered if I disobeyed these commands.
After what must have been a couple of hours, the movie ended and the television was turned off. The ribald conversation continued, however, as the ever more intoxicated group downed more wine and became louder and less coherent in their utterances. That is, all except for one of them.
Initially, Sarah had joined in with her friends’ high spirited chatter, and had been as vocal as any of them in poking fun at my predicament. However, by the time the film had drawn to a conclusion, I detected a change in her attitude towards the way things were progressing. No longer as lively and jovial, I sensed that she felt that the evening was getting out of hand, and that she was hoping that her guests would decide to leave soon. As the drink continued to flow, I detected an air of unease in Sarah’s increasingly infrequent contributions to the drunken discussions. It was obvious now that, whilst the others had been drinking themselves into a state of intoxication, Sarah had refrained from overdoing the wine, and that she now wanted to get rid of them from her house. Several hints were dropped about how it was time to call it a night. But these were ignored by the seemingly oblivious trio, who continued to drink and talk with no sign that they had any inclination to leave, although it was obvious even to me - who could see nothing, and whose hearing was hampered by the tightly fitting hood - that Sarah was getting somewhat annoyed by their continued presence.
After a further half an hour or so, for some reason that wasn’t clear to me at the time, although probably had something to do with replenishing the supply of alcohol, all three of Sarah’s now unwelcome guests decided to leave the sitting room momentarily and head for the kitchen. As their voices faded slightly, I suddenly felt a pair of hands unbuckling the straps around my face. With these released, fingers began to unlace the hood itself, and seconds later the tight leather covering loosened and was pulled clear of my head. After so long in darkness, the unfamiliar light blinded me for a few seconds, but when my sight returned, I encountered Sarah kneeling on the floor in front of me, as she reached around to begin unpeeling the tape from my head. When she spoke, it was in no more than a whisper.
“I’m sorry I left you so long, but I’m having trouble getting rid of the girls, as you’ve probably realised. I’m going to let you out now and...”
But her sentence was interrupted by Kelly, who was standing in the doorway.
“What the hell are you doing Sarah?”
She put her wine glass down on the table and quickly made her way over to where Sarah knelt beside me. Grabbing her arm, she prevented Sarah from tampering with my gag.
“What are you doing? Get off me!”
Startled by this sudden assault, Sarah tried to get to her feet. But Kelly roughly pushed her back to the floor, and by the time she tried once more to stand, reinforcements had arrived in the shape of Wendy and Sandy. And it quickly became obvious whose side these two were on... and it wasn’t that of their hostess for the evening. As Kelly and Sandy grabbed Sarah by the arms and legs respectively, then rolled her onto her stomach, Wendy began delving into my bag of bondage equipment. She quickly found what she wanted; another single-sleeve mitten, identical to the one I already wore.
As her arms were forced into the slim tunnel of leather, Sarah protested as best she could, both physically and verbally. But her struggles were thwarted by the sheer strength of numbers that held her to the floor, and her shouts and screams went totally unheeded. Within no more than thirty seconds, Sarah’s arms were thoroughly encased in the unbreakable sheath and the laces were being tightened to ensure that she wouldn’t be able to shake it off. The securing of the straps at her shoulders made certain that the mitten would stay in place, and these were soon augmented by two belts, which were wrapped tightly around her to ensure that her now useless arms were lashed securely to her back. No sooner had this been achieved, than the binding of her flailing legs began. And it was immediately obvious that the trio had paid close attention when Sarah was explaining about the most efficient way of immobilising limbs with rope. Although she continued to fight against her impending helplessness, within no time at all, Sarah had three tightly cinched and knotted ropes restraining her legs; mirroring exactly those that she had earlier encumbered me with.
But the arm-binder and the leg ropes were not to be the only bonds that we soon shared in common. For the brief minutes that Kelly, Wendy and Sandy had worked as a team to make sure that she was incapable of escaping, Sarah had kept up a relentless remonstration against the treatment being meted out to her. And could that girl make some noise?! If shouting was an Olympic sport, then I’m sure that she’d have been Team GB’s representative at the next games... and one of the favourites for the gold medal. In a way I was surprised that the neighbours hadn’t heard, such was the din she made. However, after satisfactorily dealing with her limbs, Wendy took the lead in ensuring that her decibel levels would be reduced significantly from now onwards. Disappearing briefly out of the room, she was soon back clutching a pair of black tights in her hand.
“I found these in your washing basket, Sarah. Sorry they aren’t clean ones, but they’ll have to do.”
With Sandy grabbing Sarah’s hair and Kelly pinching her nose, Wendy rolled the tights up into a ball and pushed the wad into their captive’s still protesting mouth. Now came the tape; circuit after circuit around her lower head, to prohibit the removal of the cavity filling gag.
So now Sarah and I were in the same boat. Identically bound and equally inescapably trapped. And it was at this point that Kelly suddenly looked up from the project that had taken all her attention for the past few minutes and noticed me watching the unfolding events.
“What are you looking at?”
She rose from the floor and came over to where I sat on the sofa. Picking up the leather hood, she quickly pulled it down over my head once more. The last things I saw, before I was condemned again to a world of darkness, were Sarah’s deep brown eyes gazing up despairingly at me; as if pleading with me to help get her out of a situation that had spiralled out of control. But of course I could do nothing to help her. Nor could I stop the hood once more being laced and strapped around my head with even more ferocity than it had been before.
From that moment onwards, the only clues that I picked up as to what was taking place, were aural.
“There doesn’t seem to be another hood like that in the bag. That’s a shame, as we won’t be able to maintain the symmetry between the two of them anymore.”
This was Sandy speaking, although Wendy already seemed to have the answer to this potential disappointment.
“Don’t worry, there were plenty more pairs of tights in the washing basket. I’m sure we can fashion some sort of hood for Sarah out of those.”
Sarah shrieked at the sound of this, and it was clear now just how much her vocalising capabilities had been stymied since the administering of the gag and tape.
Wendy was soon back again.
“Here put a couple of pairs of these over her head. That’ll make her look a lot more like Steve.”
For a few seconds there was a commotion in front of me, as Sarah obviously tried to hinder the application of the tights over her head. But it clearly did her no good, as Kelly’s next remark confirmed.
“That looks a lot better. Now if we just stretch this other pair across her eyes and tie it at the back of her head, she’ll be as blind as he is.”
No prizes for guessing who ‘he’ referred to.
For a while now, Kelly, Sandy and Wendy seemed to relax. The sound of another bottle of wine being opened and poured was followed by the television being turned on again. A rather drunken conversation about everything-but-actually-nothing-in-particular ensued, and it appeared for several minutes that they’d virtually forgotten all about their pair of captives. Sarah’s screams had now been downgraded to whimpers and moaned pleas for release, but these were ignored completely by the gang of three.
After what was probably half an hour or so, the television once more went silent, and it became obvious that departure homeward was on the agenda for the three visitors. The only problem for Sarah and me now, was that releasing us from our bonds didn’t seem to be on their ‘to do’ list prior to leaving. Quite the opposite in fact, as making certain that we remained in one place and didn’t move around seemed to be their final plan of action.
“So then, what shall we do with our two friends here? I think we should find a cupboard or confined space to put them in, so they can enjoy their shared bondage experience in peace.”
“What about the broom cupboard in the hall? They’ll be nice and snug in there.”
I had seen inside this tiny space on one or two occasions in the past, and could vouch for Sandy’s assessment of its size. It would indeed be a very tight fit to get the two of us in there, if that was their intention. And with both Kelly and Wendy agreeing that this would indeed be a great place for us to be housed, it was looking ever more likely that this plan would come to fruition.
On hearing this, Sarah was once more vocal in her dissent, and I could hear what I took to be the sounds of her wriggling around on the carpet. As before, however, our captors were not in the mood to listen to pleas for mercy. For my part, I have to say that I had mixed feelings about the whole ongoing saga. On the one hand, the prospect of being tied up in a tight space with Sarah held a great deal of appeal. On the other though, I felt a sense of trepidation at the unknown nature of the threesome’s long term objectives. In my previous bondage sessions, Sarah had always been there to release me...eventually. With her now well and truly incapacitated, this lifeline to the outside world had been removed. What was going to happen to us? My thoughts on the matter, however, were soon distracted.
For a minute or two, Kelly, Wendy and Sandy left the living room and the sound of brooms, mops, buckets and various other stored items being removed from the small cupboard could be heard, before the deviously plotting group returned to their helpless prisoners.
“Right, that’s the sleeping quarters sorted out. Now let’s get them settled in for the night.”
I felt hands being inserted into my armpits, and I was lifted up onto my feet. With one woman on either side of me, I was guided into the hall by being ‘hopped’ across the floor. The sound of Sarah’s anguished squeals from close behind me, suggested that whichever one of our tormentors wasn’t shepherding me towards the cupboard, must be encouraging her to make the same journey.
“It’s going to be quite tight, but I think they’ll just about fit in.”
“Yes but maybe we should do something to make sure they stay together, face to face. After all, we wouldn’t want them to start interfering with each other’s bonds, would we?”
The chances of us successfully tampering with anything were, to put it mildly, extremely slim, as our hands were neatly packaged up in leather casings. But our three jailers were all in general agreement on this latest idea, so Sandy was tasked with going back and finding something that would stop us from becoming separated, while one of the others held onto me and stopped me from falling over. Seconds later Sandy was back.
“These straps should do the trick. They look like they’re long enough to go around both of them.”
I knew instantly that she’d come across my longest leather straps. And within a few seconds, I found myself being manoeuvred around and placed in close proximity to the warm body of Sarah. Our faces were obviously extremely close, and I could hear her breath coming erratically in sharp bursts through her nostrils, as she fought the fear that was obviously threatening to overwhelm her. As I felt the strap being threaded beneath my arms, I tried to console her and let her know that everything would be alright. But my words were stifled and lost in the efficient gag that Sarah herself had lumbered me with around four hours or so ago.
With the belt now surrounding us both, our bodies were suddenly squashed closer together, as the buckle was secured to stop us moving away from each other. A second strap quickly followed, this one encircling our waists. A third soon found its way around our thighs, whilst the final one was wrapped around our ankles. The upshot was that we were now clamped tightly together from our upper torsos down to our feet, and any effort either of us made to pull away from the other – Sarah’s frantic, mine more experimental – came to nothing.
“Okay, let’s get them inside.”
I felt a hand push lightly but firmly against the left side of my body, as we were more or less ‘bounced’ the two or three feet to my right, until my shoulder collided with an immovable object which I concluded had to be the back wall of the broom cupboard. At my back, my sheathed hands also encountered a solid obstruction.
“There we go. A perfect fit. It was almost like this cupboard was made especially for them.”
Sarah shrieked again, as she realised where she was and what was about to happen. But as always, the girls were deaf to her attempts to make them see reason.
“Let’s leave these two love-birds to get better acquainted, shall we?”
At once, I felt the door of the cupboard hit my left shoulder, and a second later I heard a clicking sound, as the door’s catch fell into the locked position.
“Have fun in there, won’t you!”
For maybe five minutes, the sound of voices and laughter could be heard from beyond the walls of our confining tomb, before the front door of Sarah’s house slammed shut. Then there was only silence, save for the whimpering of my bound companion.
Although I knew it would do no good, I pushed at the wooden door with what little momentum my shoulder could muster. I knew, however, that the lock on the door could only be released from the outside, and that even if our hands had been free, we would have been unable to get out of our claustrophobic prison. Luckily there didn’t seem to be a problem with the flow of oxygen into this windowless space, so at least we didn’t risk suffocating. (I later discovered that there was a half inch gap at both the top and bottom of the door, which allowed adequate airflow). The interior of our cell was very stuffy however, and was becoming warmer by the minute thanks to the heat of two bodies in such a small space.
And what a compact, movement inhibiting space it was! With one shoulder touching the back wall and the other in close proximity to the door, there was no scope for movement to either left or right. My sheathed fingers were touching another wall behind me, and it seemed certain that Sarah was in a similar position, as when I accidently pushed forward at one point, I felt the resistance of the other wall directly behind her. Put simply, we were trapped in such a tiny area, that it would have been impossible for us to fall over, even if we’d wanted to.
So what was to become of us now? It was obvious that Sarah’s three invited guests had now vacated the premises, and that they had no intention of returning tonight. But what about tomorrow? Did they plan to come back and release us in the morning? Or did they assume that we’d eventually find our own way out? Taking into account the bonds that both of us had been encumbered with, I knew that the latter was never going to happen. Maybe they thought someone else would eventually find and release us, although it was difficult to imagine exactly who this hypothetical saviour might be, as Sarah lived alone. For that matter, would they even remembered what they’d done to us, given the copious amounts of alcohol that they’d been consuming? And even if they were planning to return, had they taken a key to let themselves back into the house? I knew that the front door opened with a Yale lock, so if they’d forgotten to seek out and take Sarah’s house keys, then they would be unable to get back in to set us free.
There were so many unanswerable questions, that to worry about what might and might not happen was a road that would have led to panic setting in. But what else was there to occupy our minds? Well there was one thing that offered some form of relief...
Being in such cramped conditions, and with the vice like grip of the belts ensuring that we remained in closely enforced intimacy, every movement that either of us made - however small - impacted on the other. And the fact that Sarah was in a state bordering on hysteria meant that she was constantly wriggling and squirming in her desperation to find a way out. And from out of these conditions arose a shared situation that, whilst born out of fear, would soon grow into something that would inadvertently become an ultimately pleasurable experience.
The constant friction of Sarah’s silk enrobed breasts against my tightly fitting cat-suit, caused a soft whooshing sound at every twist and turn of my co-prisoner’s fight for freedom. And further down, the endless swish of her tights as they continually brushed against my spandex swathed legs, seemed to gradually generate what felt like a build up of electrically charged static, which found life in a powerful sexual energy that was nurtured over the course of several minutes, until it was almost palpable. I’m certain that Sarah must have become aware of this strangely erotic phenomenon as well. Soon, my erection was straining against the spandex of my skin-tight garments and pushing hard against Sarah’s abdomen, and I was sure, given our close proximity, that she must also have felt this. Exploring the contours of your partner’s body without the use of hands is both a challenging and intriguing experiment, and in her precarious state of mind, Sarah seemed to relish any form of contact that served to reassure her that she was not alone in her hour of darkness. As the rhythm of our bodies synchronised, slowly but surely her frantic struggles eased, to be replaced by a more gentle cadence which we both became instantly attuned to, so that within seconds we were pushing hard against each other, in an effort to find an intimacy that was, unfortunately, just beyond our reach. But this didn’t seem to matter too much, as we found solace in our shared vulnerability, which served to divert our thoughts for a while away from an uncertain and unknowable future, and fortified us with a new found strength in the face of our shared plight.
With Sarah now in a calmer frame of mind, I tried to reassure her, both with my body and my muffled attempts at verbal communication, that we would come to no harm. And to a certain extent, this proved successful, as apart from one or two moments when the panic seemed to rise in her again - when she would once more strain forlornly at her bonds - she seemed, if not content, then at least resigned to the fact that there was nothing to be achieved from unnecessarily working herself up into state.
I, of course, having had several experiences in the past of being held in tight restraints overnight, was finding the whole episode a real delight. Wasn’t this what I always wanted from a bondage session? To be tied up and helpless in close proximity to a beautiful woman had always been high on my ‘wants list’, and the fact that it was now a reality, kept me in a state of high excitement for the remainder of the night... and well into the following day too.
Exactly what time it was when Wendy, Kelly and Sandy returned to Sarah’s house on Saturday, I have no idea. But I do know that it wasn’t early. In fact, it must have been late morning, or even early afternoon, before we finally heard a faint hubbub of voices that gradually grew in intensity, prior to the sound of a key turning in the front door; the delay in returning presumably due to the raging hangovers that all three must have suffered after their binge drinking session.
Seconds after they had let themselves in, the recognisable clicking of the cupboard’s locking mechanism reached my ears through the leather that surrounded my head. And this was accompanied by a waft of relatively cool air flooding the enclosed space that Sarah and I had been encapsulated in for what must have been twelve hours or more.
“Aw! Don’t they make a lovely couple, all cuddled up together like that. It would be a shame to have to separate them.”
As Kelly spoke these words, I felt my co-captive try to propel herself out of the space we’d been cooped up in for so long, and I feared that this action might result in both of us toppling over. However, at least two pairs of hands were on the alert for this eventuality, and we found ourselves being propped upright and forced back into our place of recent confinement.
“Oh no you don’t. You’re not going anywhere just yet.”
Sarah tried to scream, but her previous efforts had clearly taken their toll on her vocal chords, and this, combined with the fact that she had been deprived of any liquid refreshment all night, meant that her voice came out as nothing more than a muffled, hoarse, incomprehensible whisper. I think what she was trying to say was “Why are you doing this to us?”. At least that was the way Wendy seemed to interpret it, as she began to explain the rationale for leaving us tied up for so long.
“You see Sarah, you told us Steve regularly enjoys long stints in bondage, so we realised we didn’t need to worry about leaving him tied up all night. But after telling us about how you were – what did you call it? – his ‘rigger’, then informing us that this whole bondage malarkey was an alien concept to you, and that you couldn’t understand the fascination with being bound and gagged, we decided that it was about time you experienced the other side of things for a change. So we decided to tie you up and leave you and Steve together for the night, in order that you could experience the delights of what it’s like to be all bound and helpless. Hopefully now you understand why Steve enjoys his bondage sessions so much.”
Kelly now took up the story.
“So you see, our original intention was to let you both go now. But as you seem so cosy in your little cubbyhole, we assume that you’ll be quite happy to stay there a while longer. So Steve? ...Sarah?... What do you say? A few more hours of each other’s company sound good to you both?”
Up until this point, Sarah had listened to this explanation for our current plight in stunned silence. But now, her opposition to this proposed extension of our sentence caused her to wriggle and writhe like she’d never done before, in an effort to release herself from the straps and ropes that had held us in check with such efficiency since yesterday evening.
But of course, Kelly’s enquiry as to our willingness to prolong our stay in bondage was merely for effect, as she and her cohorts had clearly already agreed that our continued incarceration was not an option that we would be allowed any say in.
“Sorry Sarah, I can’t understand a single word you’re saying. So we’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then.”
Seconds later, I felt the door brush my arm as it was once more closed, with the now familiar click of the lock confirming that we were again walled in on all sides.
But if Sarah was in despair at this latest turn of events, my thoughts on the matter were the exact opposite. As she once more shimmied and squirmed, in a defiant yet futile assault on her bonds, I once again experienced that wonderful sensation of her gorgeous body rubbing against me in a frantic yet extremely erotic caress.
And as Sarah’s struggles intensified, I found myself hoping that Kelly, Sandy and Wendy wouldn’t be too hasty in deciding to set us free...
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story continues in Long Time Bound 4