This is a revised version of a story I have published off-site. Although fiction, it is closely based on some of my real-life experiences and the people with whom I’ve shared them.
I pondered whether to post this in the “PG-17” section. Although some nudity appears in later chapters, there is nothing explicitly sexual, and the “torture” scenes are of the playful kind. As mentioned, this story is based on my own games and adventures, and I don’t do extreme.
ADVERSITY
Without adversity there is no self-knowledge.
1. Silk and Satin
My best friend at university was a girl named Annabel, whom everyone knew as Annie. During our undergraduate years we were roommates. In some ways we were completely different, and in others very much alike. She was almost ridiculously beautiful, sophisticated and popular. Undoubtedly she’d belonged to that inaccessible caste of cool kids I had admired and envied from afar when I was an awkward, discordant schoolgirl; but she was also smart and funny and sensitive, with an endearing naiveté which belied her carefully cultivated woman-of-the-world persona. We got on well as roomies, and became close friends. It was in essence an opposites-attract friendship; but with the passage of time we began to absorb a part of each other’s nature. We celebrated good times together, helped each other through the bad times. We told each other our secrets and we shared our fantasies.
Annie seemed to have a steady stream of boyfriends, but none of her relationships lasted very long. There was nothing wrong with her, or with the guys she dated. However, the only really serious things in each of our lives were our friendship and our studies. We were both honours students; and I discovered that Annie truly was a fast and efficient learner when I introduced her to bondage.
It was late one Friday night. We were both dateless – by choice – lounging on the sofa in our pyjamas, sipping hot cocoa. Annie looked like a playgirl in her short, sleek chemise, like Pollyanna in her pink fluffy bunny slippers. She was like that, a paradox. She was cute as a button but she laughed like a loon, and when she did, she’d fling her head back and her long, wavy tresses flounced across her shoulders in golden cascades. As well as hair to die for, she had legs and a body I would kill for. Yet the amazing thing was that she didn’t care. Annie was one of the least self-conscious and least self-absorbed people I have ever known. That’s why she was happy to spend a Friday night at home with her best friend and a mug of cocoa.
That evening, for the first time, I told her about all the tie-up games I’d played over the years. Her initial reaction was predictable.
“I’m not into that sort of thing,” she declared.
“What sort of thing?” I asked.
“Kinky stuff... SM... submission...”
I leant across and cut her off with a finger pressed against her lips. I knew I couldn’t explain this with words. Sometimes you can only teach by showing. So I said to her, “Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do, sweetie.”
“I want to tie you up.”
She gave me a quizzical look but shrugged her shoulders and, after just a brief pause, cautiously nodded. Neither of us had to say anything more. She remained still and watched, intrigued but unperturbed, as I went to my bedroom. She hadn’t moved when I returned with the small bundle that I dropped onto the coffee table. I studied her eyes as she examined the little pile of satin ribbons and silk scarves. I saw curiosity, uncertainty and a hint of excitement, as it quickly dawned on her what these things meant.
She looked up at me, her expression quickly adjusting from an uneasy “I never knew” to an almost childlike “What now?”
I sat down again, close to Annie, and took up one of the ribbons, and she held out her arms. I just smiled and silently gestured with a twirl of my hand. She understood, grinned and turned away from me, sitting sideways on the sofa with one foot on the floor, the other folded under her. Hesitantly, she put her hands behind her back. I gently took hold of her wrists and crossed them, then wrapped the ribbon around four times. It was not very tight, until I tugged hard and Annie gasped in mild alarm. I gave her a couple of minutes to get used to the feeling of being bound. She tensed and stretched her arms to test the limits of her restraint. Then I looped another long strip just above her elbows.
This time she emitted a little “Oh!” sound.
“Too much?” I asked.
“No, don’t stop,” she said.
I had not made it too stringent. I wanted her to savour the delicious experience of vulnerability and the sensual embrace of her bonds without being overwhelmed by new sensations.
I eased myself off the sofa and Annie adjusted her position to face me. I knelt in front of her, running my fingers slowly across both her cheeks, through her hair, along her shoulders, drawing the straps of her nightie down her arms. She trembled faintly at the touch of my nails tenderly grazing her skin, and I saw her muscles tighten as she strained against her bonds.
I took off her slippers and placed them to one side. She put her ankles together and I tied them with more ribbon. As with her arms, she tried to move her legs about to tease the knot, but I had cinched it and she was rather surprised that she couldn’t squirm free. All she could do was bend her knees and wiggle her toes.
I stood up and stepped back, giving her another few moments to fully appreciate her helpless condition. The elbow-tie had the effect of slightly pushing out her chest, and though she was trying to remain impassive, the outlines of her nipples against the sheer fabric of the chemise betrayed her growing arousal. She sighed and blushed, and couldn’t suppress a nervous giggle.
“What do you think?” I finally asked.
“Um, interesting,” was all she replied. She looked exposed and uncomfortable – not so much physically but in the way she sat stiffly on the sofa, more than her bindings forced her to, and in the way she glanced about, avoiding direct eye contact. This was unfamiliar territory for the confident, self-possessed, always in control Annie.
“Do you want to go on?”
She licked her upper lip thoughtfully, chewed her lower lip nervously, before simply nodding once more. I told her to lean forward. As I drew the silk scarf over her eyes, she jerked her head forward and then backward, just a little, but she said nothing as I secured it with a sharper tug than I really needed to. She gasped and sat upright, then giggled again.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing, sweetie. It’s just...” Her voice trailed off into that speechless realm where there are sensations and emotions you cannot express because you’ve never felt them before and so have never had to put them into words.
I caressed her bare shoulders. The skin was as cool and smooth and soft as her exquisite chemise. I fondled her luxuriant golden hair and sniffed its delicate fragrance. I felt her shiver, saw her breathing quicken and her breasts heave under the shimmering chartreuse. She clenched her fists and flexed her arms. She must have suspected what was coming.
As I folded another of the scarves, I told her that we should have a safe signal. She didn’t need further explanation, and we agreed that crossing the fingers of both hands would suffice. When I was ready to insert the material, I brushed it lightly across her lips to get her used to its texture. I waited until she was ready, and when she parted her jaws I pushed the wad in as gently as I could, leaving enough protruding for her to clamp her teeth into. That way, only the front part of her mouth was packed with the silk. She was not accustomed to being gagged, and it was important to make sure that any choking reflex did not erupt into panic.
I wrapped another scarf around her head, over her mouth so she couldn’t work the gag loose and spit it out. She was making rather pitiful muffled, whimpering noises and I checked her fingers. They weren’t crossed. I pressed carefully but firmly on her arms. She understood and lay down on her left side on the couch, facing outwards. She was panting quite rapidly now. Her knees were drawn up almost as far as her chest. Wanting to see the entirety of my work, I grasped her feet and straightened her legs until she was lying at full stretch.
She flinched when she felt my hands on her thighs, but I was just smoothing out the hem of her nightie. It had bunched up, revealing her knickers, when she’d curled her body, but I hadn’t needed to fix it, and I’m not really sure why I did. But she presented such a picture of adorable innocence and delectable frailty that I guess I wanted to preserve a little of her dignity... or maybe I just needed to touch her. I was suddenly aware that I was breathing as quickly and as heavily as she. My heart was racing.
There were other things I could have done to Annie that night; but I felt that this was enough, at least for her first time. I knelt on the carpet before her and stroked her hair again, as she slowly settled into the zone – that dreamy state of both ecstasy and serenity, when the whole of your existence shrinks down to your own body and the ropes that embrace and imprison you. When I am bound and gagged and blindfolded, deprived of all movement in and most perception of the world around me, I feel not helpless but incredibly self-reliant, captured and yet liberated. I wanted to give Annie time to feel it too.
However, I didn’t wait to see her fingers crossed. When finally I released her, there was a mug of fresh cocoa, a soothing hand and reassuring words to bring her back from the zone. She sat in silence for a long time, just looking at me. There were tiny beads of perspiration on her cheeks and forehead. Her hands were fidgety, as if attuning to their recovered freedom. Her knees were pressed together, and she kept flattening out any creases which shortened her chemise by even a fraction. After a while, her lips wrinkled into a wistful smile. Sometime later, she uttered a single word.
“Wow.”
After that, she was hooked. It was rather strange that I of all people would be showing Annie of all people a new sensual experience. What happened next, though, was perhaps inevitable. The student surpassed the teacher.
Sarobah
Australia
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Sarobah's stories
- 01 - The Adventure Begins (mm/f)
- 02 - Mayday (F+/F+) in Archives for Adults
- 03 - The Obligatory Babysitter Story (mf/f)
- 04 - Bond-Expo (M+F+/M+F+) in Archives for Adults
- 05 - Captured Commando (f/f)
- 06 - Slavegirl (M+F+/F+, M/F)
- 07 - Uniformity (m/f)
- 08 - Tent Ropes - The True Story (FFF/M, M+/F+)
- 09 - Tent Ropes - Fiction (FFF/M, M+/F+) in Archives for Adults
- 10 - Family Ties (m/ff, m/fff)
- 11 - Setting the record straight... Family Ties, # 2 (m/ff) Story from Sarobah's brother Alex
- 12 - The other end of the rope (m/ff, m/f) Story from Sarobah's brother Alex
- 13 - Adventures in Tieland (f/m, mmm/f, m/ff) Story from Sarobah's brother Alex
- 14 - Setting the record straight... The awesome foursome (f/f, m/fff) Story from Sarobah's brother Alex
- 15 - Back in the game! (M/F)
- 16 - The Resort (M/F, m/f, M+m+/F+f+)
In Archives for Adults - Balls: The rematch (MMMM/FFFF)
- Birthday Girl (M/F)
- The Girl Next Door (M/F)
- Tie-up Tuesday (M/F)
- The prisoners' dilemma (m/f)
- Château Chaînerie (mmf/f)
- THE TIE-UP CHRONICLES (Continued) (m/f)
- Two first times (m/f)
- Adversity (F/F)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section
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Index of all stories in the "Archive for Adults" section