Thirteen Cents (M/F), parts 1-39
Posted: Fri May 18, 2018 6:32 pm
Hi. My name is Courtney. I’m 21 years old. I can't believe that I found a site called "Stories of Tie Up Games"! For a long time, I thought I was the only one in the world who liked the idea of being tied up. One of my earliest memories was watching a television show in which a woman was kidnapped, tied up, and gagged. I was mesmerized! Over the next few years, I was fortunate to see a few tie-up scenes in movies or detective shows on television. In every scene like that, the woman very clearly did not want to be tied up, but for some reason I would wish it was happening to me. There must be something wrong with me, I thought at the time. Of course, I didn’t really want to be held captive in some abandoned building until my daddy paid the ransom, but the ropes and gags greatly appealed to me.
When I was a little older, I would sometimes go to bed, tie my ankles together with shoestrings, and pretend my hands were tied behind my back. That was a little exciting at first, but it soon lost its appeal. When I was about ten, my mom, dad, and I went to visit my aunt and uncle. I was playing with my cousin Joey, who was about five years old, in the basement. Joey had a sheriff’s toy set, which consisted of a badge, toy gun, and a pair of handcuffs. I told Joey to arrest me, and he handcuffed my hands behind my back. The handcuffs were metal, but because they were toys, they could be opened with either a key or a small lever, so the person wearing them could easily get them off even without a key. Even though I could escape whenever I wanted, it was still an improvement over simply pretending. For the first time, my hands were actually being held behind my back. I hate to admit this, but I stole those handcuffs and brought them home. Joey, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry I stole your toy handcuffs. You’re about sixteen now – I hope you got over it! Anyway, my occasional bedtime self-tie-up game improved a little with the toy handcuffs, but being able to release my hands whenever I wanted eventually failed to satisfy me.
I next decided that I needed someone to tie me up with real rope. This is not something a girl in her early teens can easily do. I couldn’t work up the courage to ask any of my friends without having them think I was completely insane. I had no siblings, so no luck there. My dad, perhaps? I knew he had some rope in the garage. He and I had a great relationship, but I didn’t know how to ask him to tie me up. He too would think I was crazy. Perhaps make a challenge out of it? “Hey Dad, tie me up and if I can escape in one hour you have to let me go to the concert next week with Laura. If I can’t escape, I’ll wash your car and vacuum it every week for a month.” I never worked up the courage to ask him though, or my mom either.
Eventually, I had my first steady boyfriend when I was seventeen. After I got to know Travis and felt I could trust him enough, I broached the subject of tie-up games. He was receptive to it, but unfortunately, he would never get a job making bondage videos. He was terrible at tying me up. I would practically have to hold the ropes to prevent them from falling off my wrists. But he was willing to practice whenever we had my house or his house to ourselves. Eventually he got good enough with the rope tying that it was almost escape-proof, and we would cuddle on the couch watching movies while I was tied hand and foot. I was a cheerleader back then, and he seemed most eager to tie me up when I was in my uniform. He especially liked the knee socks and short skirt. If I felt he deserved it, I would even put on my cheerleading uniform for a tie-up game, even if it wasn’t a game night. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very often that we had time alone. After graduation, we went to different colleges and parted as friends.
When I started college, my boyfriend, Jason, was pretty good at tying me up, but he was more into traditional methods of intimacy that didn’t involve ropes and gags. We eventually worked out a deal. We alternated between “normal” intimacy and tie-up games. My obsession didn’t really interest him, so he would usually just tie me up and go watch a game on television. That actually suited me just fine. He was four years older than me and had his own apartment. I lived in the dorms, but now I had a place to indulge my bondage obsession. My favorite memories are of the times he would tie me up and leave me helpless while he went to work. Four hours later, he would come home for lunch. He would untie me, and we would have lunch together. I LOVED that.
It was around that time that I had a part-time job as a waitress. At that particular restaurant, the waitresses had to wear shorts and opaque black tights. A few times my butt would get pinched, or a stray hand from a seated patron would stroke the back of my thigh, but I got good tips. It was because of that I developed my other obsession – wearing pantyhose and tights. Most women I know either don’t wear them at all, or they take them off immediately upon arriving home. Not me. I started to like tights and pantyhose so much that I would wear them not only during our tie-up games, but even while studying in my dorm room.
All good things must come to an end, and my boyfriend broke up with me. He even accused me of liking our tie-up games more than I liked him. He said I was using him. Perhaps he was right. Come to think of it, I know he was right! But now I was right back to where I was earlier in my life – no one to tie me up. Even worse, I had now experienced real bondage, so I was even more aware of what I was missing.
One of my friends in college, Maria, would get very talkative when she was even slightly drunk. On one occasion she let a comment slip out that she had been tied up for a couple of hours the day before. I took it as a figure of speech, but I joked “were the knots tight?” She was not joking. “Oh, yes! Very tight. You’ve heard of Mr. Bond?” I hadn’t, but I was suddenly very interested. She wrote the address of a website on a napkin and handed it to me.
“You mean you let some complete stranger tie you up?” I asked.
“Well, he’s not such a stranger anymore. I’ve engaged his services five or six times now.
About once a month. It sounds kind of creepy, I know, but he’s very professional. Oh no! Look at the time. I’ve got to run,” she said as she rushed off.
I had a million questions to ask her, but she was gone before I could open my mouth. I looked at the napkin. It wouldn’t hurt to just find out more information, would it? I hurried to my dorm room.
I typed in the address on my laptop. It was just as Maria said – this guy would made bondage house calls! I quickly perused some of the information. “We currently provide our service to submissives only. In the future, we hope to employ submissives for those of you who like to do the restraining!” No problem there, I wanted to be on the receiving end of ropes. Perhaps I could eventually apply for a job there? I clicked on “Fill out our form for more information and our pricing. We won’t ask for your name or contact information unless you decide to engage our services!” I might as well investigate further, I told myself.
Question #1: What is your gender? There were several options, plus ‘other – fill in the box’. I didn’t even know what some of them were, but I was pretty sure I was safe clicking ‘female’.
Question #2: Would you prefer to be restrained by a male or female? I’ve only been tied up by guys before. I clicked ‘male’.
Question #3: How much clothing do you want to be wearing for your session? The choices were: a) naked, b) underwear only, c) fully clothed. I clicked c. I have a great body, if I do say so myself, but getting naked in front of strangers is not appealing to me.
Question #4: How do you want to be restrained? The choices were: a) rope, b) handcuffs and chain, c) duct tape, d) belts, e) other (fill in the box). I didn’t have to think hard on this one. Rope, baby, all the way!
Question #5: Gag? Gags are not shared among our customers, so there is an extra charge unless you supply your own. The choices were: a) no gag, b) knotted cloth gag, c) ball gag, d) tape gag, e) tape gag over mouth stuffed with cloth, f) I will supply my own gag, g) other (fill in the box). Hmm, I wanted to try them all, but I chose b.
Question #6: Blindfold? I clicked no. Maybe a blindfold next time.
Question #7: Level of restraint. The choices were: light (easily escapable), medium (more secure and probably inescapable, only wrists and ankles secured), strict (guaranteed inescapable or your money back, arms and legs thoroughly secured), extra-strict (guaranteed inescapable or your money back, similar to strict but the entire body is virtually immobilized), extreme (painful, and due to safety concerns regarding blood circulation, this is limited to a twenty-minute session only). I wavered between ‘strict’ and ‘extra-strict’. Hmm, I love being tied up. I decided to go with ‘extra-strict’.
Question #8: To what would you like to be tied? The choices were: a) tied to nothing (lying on the floor, lying on a couch or bed, but not hogtied), b) hogtied on the floor, couch, or bed, c) tied to a bed, c) tied to a chair, d) tied to a pole (you must have an immobile pole in your home , e) other (fill in the box). Hmm, again, I wanted to try all of these. I decided to choose c. Strangely enough, I had never been tied to a chair before, so it was time to try it.
Question #9: Will you need our ‘release service’? The choices were: a) No – I selected light restraint, so I will free myself, b) No – I plan on having a friend or relative release me at a predetermined time, c) Yes, I will need your release service. If you use our release service, please note that we will not remain with you (unless you chose extreme restraint, in which case you will remain under observation the entire twenty minutes). After being restrained, your ‘captor’ will leave you in order to make other house calls, and will return to free you at a predetermined time. There is an extra charge for this service, and you must give a key to your house or apartment to your captor. If you decline to use our release service, you will be asked to sign a contract absolving us from all liability in the unfortunate event that you fail to get free of your restraints. Well, since the whole point of this is that I don’t have a partner, I needed to select option c.
Question #10: If you elected to use our release service, how long would you like to remain in restraints? a) twenty minutes (only if you chose extreme restraint), b) enter a number of hours in increments of half hours, with a minimum of 1, such as 1, 1.5, 2, 2.5, 3, 3.5, 4, etc. Please note that our release service ends at 11:00 p.m., so schedule your appointment accordingly. The time you enter should be the duration of time from the moment your last restraint is applied up to the arrival of your ‘rescuer’. My longest tie-up game with Jason was about four hours, but since they’re probably going to charge me by the hour, I entered 2 hours. That should be plenty, considering I chose extra-strict restraints.
Ready to find out the estimated cost of your session? Click here. Remember, you won’t be asked for your name or contact information until you schedule your appointment. I submitted my form.
The results came back instantly. My session with Mr. Bond would cost me a base fee of $50 for the two hours, plus a $5 fee for the upgrade to the “extra-strict’ level of restraint, plus a $5 fee for a new gag, plus $10 for the release service. Seventy dollars didn’t sound too bad – I could afford that! There was a notice that said, “We are sorry for the inconvenience, but we are not set up at this time to accept credit card payments in advance. All fees must be paid in cash at the time of service.” I almost pressed the “schedule your appointment now” button, but I hesitated. I had the money, but I didn’t have a venue for my little adventure. I was sharing a dorm room with a girl who was nice enough, but I wanted absolute solitude to enjoy my captivity. It would ruin the fantasy if my roommate could come in at any moment. Sadly, I closed the browser without making an appointment and closed my laptop.
A few days later, I got a text message from Jason, my ex-boyfriend. He and his girlfriend were leaving town for a week and wanted to know if I could watch his apartment and water his plants. He said I could stay there if I needed to get away from dorm life for a while. Of all the nerve! He dumped me, got himself a new girlfriend, and now he needs my help? And since when did he have plants? They must be his girlfriend’s plants. He’s asking me to take care of his new girlfriend’s plants! They must be living together. I was seething with anger. I started to write a furious message, telling him that he, his girlfriend, and his plants could all go to hell. Wait a minute … I was being offered a place to stay for a week. A place where I could rendezvous with Mr. Bond, and spend a delightful couple of hours securely bound to a chair and gagged! I was trembling with excitement as I deleted the message I had started, and typed instead, “Sure Jason, I would love to. Let me know when.”
Jason texted back and asked if I could stop by his apartment (he actually called it “our” apartment, which confirmed my suspicion that he was living with his new girlfriend) on the following Wednesday. They would give me a key to the apartment and instructions on how to take care of the plants.
I arrived at his apartment and knocked on the door. I was hoping the new girlfriend wasn’t here. It was humiliating enough doing this favor for Jason without having to meet the girl who replaced me. No such luck. She answered the door.
“Hi, you must be Courtney! Come in! I’m Abby. Thank you so much for helping us!”
I wanted to hate her, but she was so darn nice. Jason seemed happy to see me, and I found myself unable to hate him either. They showed me where all the plants were, and gave me the instructions for caring for them. They then insisted that I stay for dinner. In spite of my initial jealousy, I found that Abby and I got along well. They were going to be leaving town on Friday, around 2:00. They gave me a key to the apartment. This is probably the exact same key to Jason’s apartment that I used to carry, I thought to myself, before he dumped me and asked for it back. But no time for dwelling on past grudges – I had an appointment to schedule!
As soon as I got back to my dorm room, I turned on the laptop, went to the Mr. Bond website, and filled out the form again. This time I actually clicked on “Schedule your appointment.” I filled in all my contact information and made the appointment for 3:00 on Friday. I received a confirmation. I was so excited!
On Thursday, I went to the cash machine to withdraw enough money to pay for my little adventure.
Friday arrived, and I was could hardly concentrate on anything but my appointment this afternoon. I was going to have to skip my 2:00 class, but I had turned in my work ahead of time so it didn’t really matter. I showed up at Jason’s apartment at 1:45 with my overnight bag. Jason and Abby again thanked me profusely for taking care of the apartment. It was my pleasure, I told them, and it truly was in more ways than one.
They were a little bit slow getting the car packed, and I was a little nervous that Mr. Bond would arrive at 3:00 and Jason and Abby would still not have departed. How awkward would that be? Fortunately, they eventually finished packing, with a lot of help from me. I hoped they didn’t realize I was trying to get them to leave their own home as quickly as possible. To my relief, they drove away at 2:25. I went into the apartment to change clothes. I discarded my jeans and put on a brand-new pair of black opaque tights. As I said before, I have a thing for tights. Tie-up games and tights complement each other beautifully. I hope that if I’m ever kidnapped for real, I will be wearing tights at the time of my abduction. If not, I would beg my captor to go buy a pair! I then put on a very short skirt, and left my tight t-shirt on. I checked myself in the mirror. I hate to brag, but I looked good! I didn’t bother putting on shoes. I love being in my stocking feet while wearing tights. I walked out to the kitchen and looked at the kitchen chairs. Excellent – the sturdy wooden kitchen chairs I remembered were still here. I sat on one and slipped my arms between the rails in the back of the chair and put my hands behind the chair. I could easily put my wrists together back there. These chairs seemed custom-made for tie-up games!
I was eager for 3:00 to arrive. I tried to read a book on the couch, but I was just too excited to concentrate for very long. At 2:50 I had a drink of water and went to the bathroom. It would be a while before I could do either of those things again.
At 2:59, there was a knock on the door. I was soon going to be tied up, for the first time in months! I was going through bondage withdrawal! I opened the door. I hadn’t really thought about what he would look like. It didn’t really matter, as long as he didn’t seem too creepy. But I was pleasantly surprised to find that he was about my age, maybe a little older, and very good-looking.
“Mr. Bond?”
“Please, call me Mike. ‘Mr. Bond’ is just the name of our company. You must be Courtney? May I come in?”
“Oh, yes,” I stammered. “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous. Come in.”
He was carrying a backpack, which I assumed contained enough rope to bind me at my requested ‘extra-strict’ level of restraint.
“Let’s sit on the couch,” he said. “I have a few papers for you to sign before we begin.”
I sat down next to him and he handed me a clipboard with some forms. I crossed my legs and smiled as I saw him checking me out. I read through the forms quickly. Basically, it was reviewing the options I had selected.
“If you sign here,” he said, pointing at the bottom, “it just indicates that you are of the age of consent, and you are allowing me to tie you up of your own free will, and that I have not coerced you in any way. You won’t be able to accuse me later of kidnapping or false imprisonment.” We looked at each other and we both smiled. I signed my name.
“Sign here indicating that you understand that having purchased our release service, I will return to this apartment two hours after your last restraint has been applied, and I will begin untying you.” I signed my name.
“Sign here indicating that you agreed to our pricing.” I signed my name.
“Excellent,” he said, taking the signed forms. “I just need to see a photo ID to verify that you are at least 21, and a key to this apartment.” I grabbed my purse, took out my drivers license and handed it to him, along with the key.
“You’re 21, but just barely! Is this a late birthday gift to yourself?” he asked with a laugh as he handed back my license.
“You could say that,” I said.
“Now I’ll just need the agreed upon payment, in cash, and we can get started!” He sounded as eager as I was! I took my wallet out of my purse and counted out the base fee, plus the surcharge for ‘extra-strict’ level, plus gag.
“You requested a chair tie. I assume it’s one of those?” he asked as he pointed to the kitchen chairs. I nodded, and he went and carried one of the chairs into the living room.
“Before I have you sit on the chair, I need you to hold out your hands.” I held out my hands, and he pulled a pair of pink girl socks out of his bag. He put one sock over each of my hands.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
“The extra-strict level description includes the phrase ‘the entire body is virtually immobilized’, and that includes the fingers. You will not be able to use your fingers to pick at any knots they might be able to reach otherwise,” he said as he made me form my right hand into a fist inside the sock, and began to wind white medical tape around my hand so many times that my hand now resembled a ball of tape. He then repeated the process on my left hand. I looked down at my now useless hands in my lap, and realized with shock that even if he left me right now without applying any other bonds, I was already pretty helpless. I would be unable to hold my cell phone, let alone dial for help. I would be unable to even use the doorknob to open the door to leave the apartment. He helped me stand and we went to the chair.
“Have a seat on your throne, your majesty!”
I had been nervous, but his easy-going manner put me at ease. I sat on the chair and put my arms through the back of the chair, as I had practiced before. He put my wrists together, and soon I felt rope tighten around them. I felt that little flutter in my stomach that I always felt the moment I was being tied up. He next brought my elbows together as close as they were able and began binding them too, and also binding the rope around the narrow spindles that made up the back of the chair. As my arms were being progressively tied not only together, but to the back of the chair itself, I nervously tried to make small talk. “What an unusual job you have, Mike.”
“Oh yes. But it’s a lot more fun than my last job, which was delivering pizza.”
More rope continued to bind my upper body to the back of the chair. Rope went around my waist, above my chest, and diagonally in both directions from the shoulders, crossing between my breasts, and around the back of the chair. Mike was obviously well-practiced in tying up women. He worked with complete confidence, knowing how to bind securely but not painfully. When he was sure my upper body was bound to the chair to ‘extra-strict’ standards, he turned his attention to my legs. He knelt in front of me and gently placed my stockinged feet side by side on his lap. He ran his hands along the tops of my feet and behind my calves.
“I love your tights!” he exclaimed.
“Thanks, they’re brand-new. I bought them for this occasion.”
He looked up at me and smiled, and then became a serious tying machine again. Rope was tied around my ankles and cinched securely. More rope was tied and cinched below my knees and above my knees. Then he began tying rope around my lap and the seat of the chair. Rope was tied from the sides of the chair to my knee ropes, so that I couldn’t move my legs at all in a side-to-side manner. Finally, he tied a rope from my ankle rope to the back of the chair, and pulled the rope until my feet were no longer touching the floor. A knot was tied, and my legs were now going to stay bent like this for the foreseeable future. He gently caressed the soles of my stocking feet, saying, “I would normally wrap tape around your feet now so that even your toes would be immobile, like your fingers, but it would be a crime to cover up these pretty feet.” I wiggled my toes, grateful that he left them free.
He stood up and looked down at me. “Show me how much you can wiggle.” I gave it my best shot, but I could hardly move a muscle. “I did a great job!” he bragged.
“You sure did. You should do this for a living. Oh, wait, I guess you do!” I joked.
“The contract you signed did say you would be given a chance now to change your mind, but there would be no refund. Just say the word and I’ll untie you.”
“Don’t you dare! I’m just getting comfortable,” I said.
He pulled a cloth out of his backpack and tied a knot in the middle of it. “In that case, there’s only one thing left to do,” he said, bringing the cloth up to my face. It was a pretty thick cloth, so the knot was fairly large. I opened wide, and the knot was placed in my mouth. He pulled the gag tightly behind my head, and tied it securely.
He picked up his backpack and headed for the front door. He turned around. “Have fun! See you in two hours.” He opened the door and turned off the lights. There was still plenty of light coming through the windows, even with the curtains closed. The door closed behind him, and I could hear the deadbolt sliding into place. I was now alone. Bound, gagged, and alone. I had been tied up many times before this, but all other times paled in comparison to this. I was the happiest and most content I had been in a long time. I was in ecstasy.
How glad I was that I spent the extra money for the ‘extra-strict’ level. This was amazing. I explored my bonds by systematically straining against each rope with which I was bound. There was not a bit of slack anywhere.
I could hear people talking in the hallway of the apartment building just outside the door. Evidently there was a party tonight starting next door. There would be a knock on the door, and sounds of greeting and music as the door would open. What would all these people think if they knew that a girl was severely bound to a chair and gagged in the next apartment? They were celebrating the start of the weekend, as people were doing all over this university town, while I sat bound, gagged, helpless, and alone on a Friday night. Yet I would not change places with any of them!
Was there something wrong with me? Most people would do anything to avoid the captivity I had paid to get inflicted upon me. Why was I enjoying this so much? Perhaps a psychologist could explain this to me someday.
Time passed, very slowly. I was able to see a clock, which probably made the time seem to pass slower. As with all of my previous times I had been tied up, there comes a point when the thrill passes, and boredom sets in. I could do absolutely nothing to help pass the time. But, this phase of captivity is still exciting in its own way. It wouldn’t be any fun at all to be released at the precise moment the initial thrill is gone. To now want to be untied but have the desire denied was part of the overall experience. I was just glad I had chosen two hours instead of three. Then, at the one-hour mark, I wish I had chosen one hour instead of two. I was very ready to be able to walk around and stretch, and I still had another hour left to go in this chair. My feet were pulled up under the chair, and I longed to be able to unbend my legs.
The second hour seemed to drag. Even so, I was still glad I did this. What I really needed was to find a boyfriend who could tie me up this well once per week!
Slowly the second hour drew to a close. I hoped that Mr. Bond … I mean, Mike, wouldn’t be late.
Punctual almost to the very minute, I heard a key enter the lock, and the door opened. It was Mike! I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life. Jason had kept me tied up twice as long as this on several occasions, but then I had been able to roll around on the floor. Two hours completely immobilized in a chair felt longer than four hours on the floor.
Mike switched on the light. “Hi beautiful! Are you ready to be untied?” I nodded vigorously.
He went behind me, untied my gag, and pulled the knot out of my mouth. The knot was big enough that I had a hard time closing my mouth without it, my mouth having been held open so wide for two hours. Eventually my jaw returned to normal as I worked it side to side and up and down. Mike unscrewed a water bottle and held it to my mouth. I drank eagerly. The water felt so good.
“Now, let’s start getting these ropes off, shall we?” he said.
“Oh yes, thank you!”
To be continued ...
When I was a little older, I would sometimes go to bed, tie my ankles together with shoestrings, and pretend my hands were tied behind my back. That was a little exciting at first, but it soon lost its appeal. When I was about ten, my mom, dad, and I went to visit my aunt and uncle. I was playing with my cousin Joey, who was about five years old, in the basement. Joey had a sheriff’s toy set, which consisted of a badge, toy gun, and a pair of handcuffs. I told Joey to arrest me, and he handcuffed my hands behind my back. The handcuffs were metal, but because they were toys, they could be opened with either a key or a small lever, so the person wearing them could easily get them off even without a key. Even though I could escape whenever I wanted, it was still an improvement over simply pretending. For the first time, my hands were actually being held behind my back. I hate to admit this, but I stole those handcuffs and brought them home. Joey, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry I stole your toy handcuffs. You’re about sixteen now – I hope you got over it! Anyway, my occasional bedtime self-tie-up game improved a little with the toy handcuffs, but being able to release my hands whenever I wanted eventually failed to satisfy me.
I next decided that I needed someone to tie me up with real rope. This is not something a girl in her early teens can easily do. I couldn’t work up the courage to ask any of my friends without having them think I was completely insane. I had no siblings, so no luck there. My dad, perhaps? I knew he had some rope in the garage. He and I had a great relationship, but I didn’t know how to ask him to tie me up. He too would think I was crazy. Perhaps make a challenge out of it? “Hey Dad, tie me up and if I can escape in one hour you have to let me go to the concert next week with Laura. If I can’t escape, I’ll wash your car and vacuum it every week for a month.” I never worked up the courage to ask him though, or my mom either.
Eventually, I had my first steady boyfriend when I was seventeen. After I got to know Travis and felt I could trust him enough, I broached the subject of tie-up games. He was receptive to it, but unfortunately, he would never get a job making bondage videos. He was terrible at tying me up. I would practically have to hold the ropes to prevent them from falling off my wrists. But he was willing to practice whenever we had my house or his house to ourselves. Eventually he got good enough with the rope tying that it was almost escape-proof, and we would cuddle on the couch watching movies while I was tied hand and foot. I was a cheerleader back then, and he seemed most eager to tie me up when I was in my uniform. He especially liked the knee socks and short skirt. If I felt he deserved it, I would even put on my cheerleading uniform for a tie-up game, even if it wasn’t a game night. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very often that we had time alone. After graduation, we went to different colleges and parted as friends.
When I started college, my boyfriend, Jason, was pretty good at tying me up, but he was more into traditional methods of intimacy that didn’t involve ropes and gags. We eventually worked out a deal. We alternated between “normal” intimacy and tie-up games. My obsession didn’t really interest him, so he would usually just tie me up and go watch a game on television. That actually suited me just fine. He was four years older than me and had his own apartment. I lived in the dorms, but now I had a place to indulge my bondage obsession. My favorite memories are of the times he would tie me up and leave me helpless while he went to work. Four hours later, he would come home for lunch. He would untie me, and we would have lunch together. I LOVED that.
It was around that time that I had a part-time job as a waitress. At that particular restaurant, the waitresses had to wear shorts and opaque black tights. A few times my butt would get pinched, or a stray hand from a seated patron would stroke the back of my thigh, but I got good tips. It was because of that I developed my other obsession – wearing pantyhose and tights. Most women I know either don’t wear them at all, or they take them off immediately upon arriving home. Not me. I started to like tights and pantyhose so much that I would wear them not only during our tie-up games, but even while studying in my dorm room.
All good things must come to an end, and my boyfriend broke up with me. He even accused me of liking our tie-up games more than I liked him. He said I was using him. Perhaps he was right. Come to think of it, I know he was right! But now I was right back to where I was earlier in my life – no one to tie me up. Even worse, I had now experienced real bondage, so I was even more aware of what I was missing.
One of my friends in college, Maria, would get very talkative when she was even slightly drunk. On one occasion she let a comment slip out that she had been tied up for a couple of hours the day before. I took it as a figure of speech, but I joked “were the knots tight?” She was not joking. “Oh, yes! Very tight. You’ve heard of Mr. Bond?” I hadn’t, but I was suddenly very interested. She wrote the address of a website on a napkin and handed it to me.
“You mean you let some complete stranger tie you up?” I asked.
“Well, he’s not such a stranger anymore. I’ve engaged his services five or six times now.
About once a month. It sounds kind of creepy, I know, but he’s very professional. Oh no! Look at the time. I’ve got to run,” she said as she rushed off.
I had a million questions to ask her, but she was gone before I could open my mouth. I looked at the napkin. It wouldn’t hurt to just find out more information, would it? I hurried to my dorm room.
I typed in the address on my laptop. It was just as Maria said – this guy would made bondage house calls! I quickly perused some of the information. “We currently provide our service to submissives only. In the future, we hope to employ submissives for those of you who like to do the restraining!” No problem there, I wanted to be on the receiving end of ropes. Perhaps I could eventually apply for a job there? I clicked on “Fill out our form for more information and our pricing. We won’t ask for your name or contact information unless you decide to engage our services!” I might as well investigate further, I told myself.
Question #1: What is your gender? There were several options, plus ‘other – fill in the box’. I didn’t even know what some of them were, but I was pretty sure I was safe clicking ‘female’.
Question #2: Would you prefer to be restrained by a male or female? I’ve only been tied up by guys before. I clicked ‘male’.
Question #3: How much clothing do you want to be wearing for your session? The choices were: a) naked, b) underwear only, c) fully clothed. I clicked c. I have a great body, if I do say so myself, but getting naked in front of strangers is not appealing to me.
Question #4: How do you want to be restrained? The choices were: a) rope, b) handcuffs and chain, c) duct tape, d) belts, e) other (fill in the box). I didn’t have to think hard on this one. Rope, baby, all the way!
Question #5: Gag? Gags are not shared among our customers, so there is an extra charge unless you supply your own. The choices were: a) no gag, b) knotted cloth gag, c) ball gag, d) tape gag, e) tape gag over mouth stuffed with cloth, f) I will supply my own gag, g) other (fill in the box). Hmm, I wanted to try them all, but I chose b.
Question #6: Blindfold? I clicked no. Maybe a blindfold next time.
Question #7: Level of restraint. The choices were: light (easily escapable), medium (more secure and probably inescapable, only wrists and ankles secured), strict (guaranteed inescapable or your money back, arms and legs thoroughly secured), extra-strict (guaranteed inescapable or your money back, similar to strict but the entire body is virtually immobilized), extreme (painful, and due to safety concerns regarding blood circulation, this is limited to a twenty-minute session only). I wavered between ‘strict’ and ‘extra-strict’. Hmm, I love being tied up. I decided to go with ‘extra-strict’.
Question #8: To what would you like to be tied? The choices were: a) tied to nothing (lying on the floor, lying on a couch or bed, but not hogtied), b) hogtied on the floor, couch, or bed, c) tied to a bed, c) tied to a chair, d) tied to a pole (you must have an immobile pole in your home , e) other (fill in the box). Hmm, again, I wanted to try all of these. I decided to choose c. Strangely enough, I had never been tied to a chair before, so it was time to try it.
Question #9: Will you need our ‘release service’? The choices were: a) No – I selected light restraint, so I will free myself, b) No – I plan on having a friend or relative release me at a predetermined time, c) Yes, I will need your release service. If you use our release service, please note that we will not remain with you (unless you chose extreme restraint, in which case you will remain under observation the entire twenty minutes). After being restrained, your ‘captor’ will leave you in order to make other house calls, and will return to free you at a predetermined time. There is an extra charge for this service, and you must give a key to your house or apartment to your captor. If you decline to use our release service, you will be asked to sign a contract absolving us from all liability in the unfortunate event that you fail to get free of your restraints. Well, since the whole point of this is that I don’t have a partner, I needed to select option c.
Question #10: If you elected to use our release service, how long would you like to remain in restraints? a) twenty minutes (only if you chose extreme restraint), b) enter a number of hours in increments of half hours, with a minimum of 1, such as 1, 1.5, 2, 2.5, 3, 3.5, 4, etc. Please note that our release service ends at 11:00 p.m., so schedule your appointment accordingly. The time you enter should be the duration of time from the moment your last restraint is applied up to the arrival of your ‘rescuer’. My longest tie-up game with Jason was about four hours, but since they’re probably going to charge me by the hour, I entered 2 hours. That should be plenty, considering I chose extra-strict restraints.
Ready to find out the estimated cost of your session? Click here. Remember, you won’t be asked for your name or contact information until you schedule your appointment. I submitted my form.
The results came back instantly. My session with Mr. Bond would cost me a base fee of $50 for the two hours, plus a $5 fee for the upgrade to the “extra-strict’ level of restraint, plus a $5 fee for a new gag, plus $10 for the release service. Seventy dollars didn’t sound too bad – I could afford that! There was a notice that said, “We are sorry for the inconvenience, but we are not set up at this time to accept credit card payments in advance. All fees must be paid in cash at the time of service.” I almost pressed the “schedule your appointment now” button, but I hesitated. I had the money, but I didn’t have a venue for my little adventure. I was sharing a dorm room with a girl who was nice enough, but I wanted absolute solitude to enjoy my captivity. It would ruin the fantasy if my roommate could come in at any moment. Sadly, I closed the browser without making an appointment and closed my laptop.
A few days later, I got a text message from Jason, my ex-boyfriend. He and his girlfriend were leaving town for a week and wanted to know if I could watch his apartment and water his plants. He said I could stay there if I needed to get away from dorm life for a while. Of all the nerve! He dumped me, got himself a new girlfriend, and now he needs my help? And since when did he have plants? They must be his girlfriend’s plants. He’s asking me to take care of his new girlfriend’s plants! They must be living together. I was seething with anger. I started to write a furious message, telling him that he, his girlfriend, and his plants could all go to hell. Wait a minute … I was being offered a place to stay for a week. A place where I could rendezvous with Mr. Bond, and spend a delightful couple of hours securely bound to a chair and gagged! I was trembling with excitement as I deleted the message I had started, and typed instead, “Sure Jason, I would love to. Let me know when.”
Jason texted back and asked if I could stop by his apartment (he actually called it “our” apartment, which confirmed my suspicion that he was living with his new girlfriend) on the following Wednesday. They would give me a key to the apartment and instructions on how to take care of the plants.
I arrived at his apartment and knocked on the door. I was hoping the new girlfriend wasn’t here. It was humiliating enough doing this favor for Jason without having to meet the girl who replaced me. No such luck. She answered the door.
“Hi, you must be Courtney! Come in! I’m Abby. Thank you so much for helping us!”
I wanted to hate her, but she was so darn nice. Jason seemed happy to see me, and I found myself unable to hate him either. They showed me where all the plants were, and gave me the instructions for caring for them. They then insisted that I stay for dinner. In spite of my initial jealousy, I found that Abby and I got along well. They were going to be leaving town on Friday, around 2:00. They gave me a key to the apartment. This is probably the exact same key to Jason’s apartment that I used to carry, I thought to myself, before he dumped me and asked for it back. But no time for dwelling on past grudges – I had an appointment to schedule!
As soon as I got back to my dorm room, I turned on the laptop, went to the Mr. Bond website, and filled out the form again. This time I actually clicked on “Schedule your appointment.” I filled in all my contact information and made the appointment for 3:00 on Friday. I received a confirmation. I was so excited!
On Thursday, I went to the cash machine to withdraw enough money to pay for my little adventure.
Friday arrived, and I was could hardly concentrate on anything but my appointment this afternoon. I was going to have to skip my 2:00 class, but I had turned in my work ahead of time so it didn’t really matter. I showed up at Jason’s apartment at 1:45 with my overnight bag. Jason and Abby again thanked me profusely for taking care of the apartment. It was my pleasure, I told them, and it truly was in more ways than one.
They were a little bit slow getting the car packed, and I was a little nervous that Mr. Bond would arrive at 3:00 and Jason and Abby would still not have departed. How awkward would that be? Fortunately, they eventually finished packing, with a lot of help from me. I hoped they didn’t realize I was trying to get them to leave their own home as quickly as possible. To my relief, they drove away at 2:25. I went into the apartment to change clothes. I discarded my jeans and put on a brand-new pair of black opaque tights. As I said before, I have a thing for tights. Tie-up games and tights complement each other beautifully. I hope that if I’m ever kidnapped for real, I will be wearing tights at the time of my abduction. If not, I would beg my captor to go buy a pair! I then put on a very short skirt, and left my tight t-shirt on. I checked myself in the mirror. I hate to brag, but I looked good! I didn’t bother putting on shoes. I love being in my stocking feet while wearing tights. I walked out to the kitchen and looked at the kitchen chairs. Excellent – the sturdy wooden kitchen chairs I remembered were still here. I sat on one and slipped my arms between the rails in the back of the chair and put my hands behind the chair. I could easily put my wrists together back there. These chairs seemed custom-made for tie-up games!
I was eager for 3:00 to arrive. I tried to read a book on the couch, but I was just too excited to concentrate for very long. At 2:50 I had a drink of water and went to the bathroom. It would be a while before I could do either of those things again.
At 2:59, there was a knock on the door. I was soon going to be tied up, for the first time in months! I was going through bondage withdrawal! I opened the door. I hadn’t really thought about what he would look like. It didn’t really matter, as long as he didn’t seem too creepy. But I was pleasantly surprised to find that he was about my age, maybe a little older, and very good-looking.
“Mr. Bond?”
“Please, call me Mike. ‘Mr. Bond’ is just the name of our company. You must be Courtney? May I come in?”
“Oh, yes,” I stammered. “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous. Come in.”
He was carrying a backpack, which I assumed contained enough rope to bind me at my requested ‘extra-strict’ level of restraint.
“Let’s sit on the couch,” he said. “I have a few papers for you to sign before we begin.”
I sat down next to him and he handed me a clipboard with some forms. I crossed my legs and smiled as I saw him checking me out. I read through the forms quickly. Basically, it was reviewing the options I had selected.
“If you sign here,” he said, pointing at the bottom, “it just indicates that you are of the age of consent, and you are allowing me to tie you up of your own free will, and that I have not coerced you in any way. You won’t be able to accuse me later of kidnapping or false imprisonment.” We looked at each other and we both smiled. I signed my name.
“Sign here indicating that you understand that having purchased our release service, I will return to this apartment two hours after your last restraint has been applied, and I will begin untying you.” I signed my name.
“Sign here indicating that you agreed to our pricing.” I signed my name.
“Excellent,” he said, taking the signed forms. “I just need to see a photo ID to verify that you are at least 21, and a key to this apartment.” I grabbed my purse, took out my drivers license and handed it to him, along with the key.
“You’re 21, but just barely! Is this a late birthday gift to yourself?” he asked with a laugh as he handed back my license.
“You could say that,” I said.
“Now I’ll just need the agreed upon payment, in cash, and we can get started!” He sounded as eager as I was! I took my wallet out of my purse and counted out the base fee, plus the surcharge for ‘extra-strict’ level, plus gag.
“You requested a chair tie. I assume it’s one of those?” he asked as he pointed to the kitchen chairs. I nodded, and he went and carried one of the chairs into the living room.
“Before I have you sit on the chair, I need you to hold out your hands.” I held out my hands, and he pulled a pair of pink girl socks out of his bag. He put one sock over each of my hands.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
“The extra-strict level description includes the phrase ‘the entire body is virtually immobilized’, and that includes the fingers. You will not be able to use your fingers to pick at any knots they might be able to reach otherwise,” he said as he made me form my right hand into a fist inside the sock, and began to wind white medical tape around my hand so many times that my hand now resembled a ball of tape. He then repeated the process on my left hand. I looked down at my now useless hands in my lap, and realized with shock that even if he left me right now without applying any other bonds, I was already pretty helpless. I would be unable to hold my cell phone, let alone dial for help. I would be unable to even use the doorknob to open the door to leave the apartment. He helped me stand and we went to the chair.
“Have a seat on your throne, your majesty!”
I had been nervous, but his easy-going manner put me at ease. I sat on the chair and put my arms through the back of the chair, as I had practiced before. He put my wrists together, and soon I felt rope tighten around them. I felt that little flutter in my stomach that I always felt the moment I was being tied up. He next brought my elbows together as close as they were able and began binding them too, and also binding the rope around the narrow spindles that made up the back of the chair. As my arms were being progressively tied not only together, but to the back of the chair itself, I nervously tried to make small talk. “What an unusual job you have, Mike.”
“Oh yes. But it’s a lot more fun than my last job, which was delivering pizza.”
More rope continued to bind my upper body to the back of the chair. Rope went around my waist, above my chest, and diagonally in both directions from the shoulders, crossing between my breasts, and around the back of the chair. Mike was obviously well-practiced in tying up women. He worked with complete confidence, knowing how to bind securely but not painfully. When he was sure my upper body was bound to the chair to ‘extra-strict’ standards, he turned his attention to my legs. He knelt in front of me and gently placed my stockinged feet side by side on his lap. He ran his hands along the tops of my feet and behind my calves.
“I love your tights!” he exclaimed.
“Thanks, they’re brand-new. I bought them for this occasion.”
He looked up at me and smiled, and then became a serious tying machine again. Rope was tied around my ankles and cinched securely. More rope was tied and cinched below my knees and above my knees. Then he began tying rope around my lap and the seat of the chair. Rope was tied from the sides of the chair to my knee ropes, so that I couldn’t move my legs at all in a side-to-side manner. Finally, he tied a rope from my ankle rope to the back of the chair, and pulled the rope until my feet were no longer touching the floor. A knot was tied, and my legs were now going to stay bent like this for the foreseeable future. He gently caressed the soles of my stocking feet, saying, “I would normally wrap tape around your feet now so that even your toes would be immobile, like your fingers, but it would be a crime to cover up these pretty feet.” I wiggled my toes, grateful that he left them free.
He stood up and looked down at me. “Show me how much you can wiggle.” I gave it my best shot, but I could hardly move a muscle. “I did a great job!” he bragged.
“You sure did. You should do this for a living. Oh, wait, I guess you do!” I joked.
“The contract you signed did say you would be given a chance now to change your mind, but there would be no refund. Just say the word and I’ll untie you.”
“Don’t you dare! I’m just getting comfortable,” I said.
He pulled a cloth out of his backpack and tied a knot in the middle of it. “In that case, there’s only one thing left to do,” he said, bringing the cloth up to my face. It was a pretty thick cloth, so the knot was fairly large. I opened wide, and the knot was placed in my mouth. He pulled the gag tightly behind my head, and tied it securely.
He picked up his backpack and headed for the front door. He turned around. “Have fun! See you in two hours.” He opened the door and turned off the lights. There was still plenty of light coming through the windows, even with the curtains closed. The door closed behind him, and I could hear the deadbolt sliding into place. I was now alone. Bound, gagged, and alone. I had been tied up many times before this, but all other times paled in comparison to this. I was the happiest and most content I had been in a long time. I was in ecstasy.
How glad I was that I spent the extra money for the ‘extra-strict’ level. This was amazing. I explored my bonds by systematically straining against each rope with which I was bound. There was not a bit of slack anywhere.
I could hear people talking in the hallway of the apartment building just outside the door. Evidently there was a party tonight starting next door. There would be a knock on the door, and sounds of greeting and music as the door would open. What would all these people think if they knew that a girl was severely bound to a chair and gagged in the next apartment? They were celebrating the start of the weekend, as people were doing all over this university town, while I sat bound, gagged, helpless, and alone on a Friday night. Yet I would not change places with any of them!
Was there something wrong with me? Most people would do anything to avoid the captivity I had paid to get inflicted upon me. Why was I enjoying this so much? Perhaps a psychologist could explain this to me someday.
Time passed, very slowly. I was able to see a clock, which probably made the time seem to pass slower. As with all of my previous times I had been tied up, there comes a point when the thrill passes, and boredom sets in. I could do absolutely nothing to help pass the time. But, this phase of captivity is still exciting in its own way. It wouldn’t be any fun at all to be released at the precise moment the initial thrill is gone. To now want to be untied but have the desire denied was part of the overall experience. I was just glad I had chosen two hours instead of three. Then, at the one-hour mark, I wish I had chosen one hour instead of two. I was very ready to be able to walk around and stretch, and I still had another hour left to go in this chair. My feet were pulled up under the chair, and I longed to be able to unbend my legs.
The second hour seemed to drag. Even so, I was still glad I did this. What I really needed was to find a boyfriend who could tie me up this well once per week!
Slowly the second hour drew to a close. I hoped that Mr. Bond … I mean, Mike, wouldn’t be late.
Punctual almost to the very minute, I heard a key enter the lock, and the door opened. It was Mike! I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life. Jason had kept me tied up twice as long as this on several occasions, but then I had been able to roll around on the floor. Two hours completely immobilized in a chair felt longer than four hours on the floor.
Mike switched on the light. “Hi beautiful! Are you ready to be untied?” I nodded vigorously.
He went behind me, untied my gag, and pulled the knot out of my mouth. The knot was big enough that I had a hard time closing my mouth without it, my mouth having been held open so wide for two hours. Eventually my jaw returned to normal as I worked it side to side and up and down. Mike unscrewed a water bottle and held it to my mouth. I drank eagerly. The water felt so good.
“Now, let’s start getting these ropes off, shall we?” he said.
“Oh yes, thank you!”
To be continued ...