Maria & Andrea: A Chance Beginning (F/F, Part 7 Added)

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Maria & Andrea: A Chance Beginning (F/F, Part 7 Added)

Post by Proteus75 »

Part 1

Hello, my name is Andrea, and this is about me and my BFF Maria. In case you don’t know, that stands for “Best Friend Forever.”

So about me: I’m a brown-skinned Puerto Rican girl, about 5-feet, 4-inches tall with a somewhat curvy figure. I wear horn-rimmed glasses and my dark brown hair is frizzy, so I usually tie it back in a scrunchy. I’m 20 years old now, but at the time this happened, I was 18, just out of high school.

Maria is the same age. She’s Puerto Rican too, and has the same hair but lighter complexion. She’s always been bigger than me, but in high school she sprouted to 5-feet, 9-inches tall. Though Maria’s busty, she’s more stocky than curvy, and has broad, strong shoulders.

But she’s not self-conscious at all, and people — including me — are drawn in by her energetic, positive personality. She’s a natural leader, and smart, too.

We hung out a lot in high school, at our houses, the park, or wherever. We liked spending time at her house. Her only sibling, Eva, is married with two boys: Stevie and Nickie, Maria’s tow-headed nephews. Her single mother worked, and she also babysat for her grandsons.

So we often had the run of the place. Even then, Maria seemed more grown-up than me, and we often worked on homework together.

After graduation, we both got jobs to pay for college, though Maria was able to enroll part-time right away. Of course she started spending time with her college classmates, which made me a little jealous. I never said anything, but I truly missed her during those early autumn days.

Maybe she started missing me too, because in late September she invited me over to do homework.

“But Maria, I don’t have any homework,” I said over the phone.

She laughed.

“Oh, don’t be silly, Andrea,” she said. “It’ll be like our high school days. Bring a book to read, like one of those romance novels you like so much. Better yet, help me with my homework…that’ll give you an idea of what you’ll be facing when you go to college!”

Encouraged, I started stopping by after my day shift ended at the pet store. Her mom was dating someone, so we usually had the house to ourselves.

Usually…

As I approached one Thursday afternoon, I heard screaming coming from inside Maria’s one-story ranch house. I knocked, and was startled as the door was yanked open by Stevie, Maria’s 6-year old nephew.

“Pow!” Stevie yelled, pointing a toy gun at me. Four-year old Nickie ran up and pointed his toy gun at me, shouting, “Pow-pow-pow!”

Maria’s large profile appeared in the doorway.

“Oh, hi!” I said.

“I see you’ve met Stevie and Nickie,” Maria said. "Boys, say hello to my friend Andrea.”

“Pow-pow!” they shouted before dashing back to the living room.

“Don’t mind them,” Maria said. “My sister is driving her mother-in-law around on errands, so she dropped the boys off for me to watch for a bit. Come on in!”

I stepped in, and saw toys spread all over the living room. The couch was piled with laundry, which Maria was sorting into two laundry baskets.

“Eva also asked me to do some laundry for her.”

“Need a hand?” I asked.

“Nah, just watch this…hey guys, come help me, okay?”

Maria had great qualities of generalship, because her nephews immediately quieted down and pitched in. I made myself comfortable in the easy chair and cracked open my book.

“Yay, we did it, guys!” Maria said after a few minutes. “OK, now just stay here with Andrea and put way your toys. When I come back I’ll put your movie in, and we’ll have popcorn.” Maria stacked one laundry basket on top of the other, and — with apparent ease — picked them both up and lugged them off to the basement.

Her nephews started sticking their toys into Nickie’s little blue backpack. I was able to focus on reading, with the distant sound of the washing machine in the background.

After a few minutes Nickie popped up at the arm of the chair, his eyes wide.

“Oh! You scared me again!” I said, smiling. “What’s up, Nickie?”

“Can we play ‘kidnap’ with you?”

“Ummmm…ok,” I said. With that they both ran off, and I presumed that was part of their ‘kidnap’ game. I was a little apprehensive, but reasoned that they were just little boys and couldn’t do much harm. Besides, Maria would be back soon, and she’d take matters in hand.

I was absolutely right on the first count, and partially right — as well as prophetic — on the second count.

After a few minutes they came back came and stood by my chair.

“Ready?” Nickie said excitedly.

“Sure!” I replied, playing along.

Nickie held up a short powder-blue cord that I recognized as one of the decorative bathroom-curtain sashes. I almost laughed out loud as he bit his lip, clumsily looped the sash around my right arm and secured it with a half-knot.

“There, you’re kidnapped!” he shouted.

“Kidnapped!” Stevie repeated.

“Hey, what’s with all the shouting?” Maria said as she entered the living room.

“She’s kidnapped, Aunt Maria!” Stevie said.

Wordlessly, Maria looked down and stared at my right arm. She blushed slightly, looked at me, then smiled. It was a knowing smile, and her jet-black eyes seemed to bore into me; I felt myself blushing as well.

Then she recovered and became Aunt Maria again.

“It looks like you found a new game, eh?” she said. “Good job on your toys, we have just enough time to watch the movie before your Mom comes for you.”

The boys jumped on the couch and Maria put the “Despicable Me” DVD into the player. As they settled in, Maria quietly lifted my arm, removed the sash, stuck it into the pocket of her blue jeans and headed off to the kitchen to make popcorn.

“Can I help you with that?” I said, trying to recover as well.

“Relax,” she called over her shoulder, “it’s just popcorn.” My awkward feelings vanished at the sound of her bright voice, and we spent the rest of the afternoon snacking and watching the movie with her nephews.

But I occasionally caught Maria looking at me from the couch where she sat with her nephews. We made eye contact a couple of times, and she shot me that same, knowing smile. Later I saw that she’d restored the bathroom curtain sash.

She called me the next morning.

“Hey, can you come over early Saturday morning?” she asked. “I could really use your help with something.”

“Babysitting and laundry again…so soon?” I chuckled, teasing her.

“No,” she laughed, “nothing like that…it’s kind of a project. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

Feeling flattered, I agreed to help her.

“Great! Come over early, ok? Say, 8 or 8:30?”

The next day I was full of energy as I walked the four blocks to Maria’s house. I was wearing white canvas sneakers, light-colored blue jeans, and a dark-blue hoodie emblazoned with our high-school emblem — a snarling, bright-orange tiger. “Go Tigers!” it read.

Maria’s house has an attached garage. The garage door was open when I arrived, and I saw that Maria was inside. She was wearing black jeans and Reeboks, a red polo shirt, and her hair was tied back like mine. She spotted me, smiled and waved me into the garage.

Maria was holding onto the garage door handle, and as soon as I stepped in, she pulled the door down and latched it.

The slamming of the door, click of the latch and the sudden dimness — along with Maria herself, towering over my shorter frame — combined to make me feel smaller. She was holding some lengths of black vinyl clothesline, and she grinned at me.

“Thanks for coming over,” she said quickly. “I want to play that kidnapping game with you.”

The ease with which she said those words took me by surprise; she made it sound like “kidnapping game” was a phrase people used every day. An odd, nervous, pleasant excitement — much stronger than my awkwardness from two days before — warmed my chest and put a lump in my throat.

Clearly, Maria intended to tie me up here in her garage — and she was much stronger, and more clever than her nephews.

I shuddered, swallowed a couple of times, and tried to sound casual. But I was already caving.

“Well,” I stammered, “how do we…”

“Here, I’ll show you.”

She grasped my shoulder, turned me around and gently pulled my arms behind my back. I heard smacking sounds as she dropped the other lengths of line to the floor, and a soft slithering noise that I took to be her readying the other cord for my hands.

I was right again. I felt her winding the line around and between my wrists, cinching them firmly together, pinching me slightly. Maria’s mom had always used vinyl clothesline, so there was always some around. I knew it had a tendency to stretch, and then firmly hug anything it was tied around.

Like my wrists. There seemed to be no end to Maria’s winding, tying and tightening. The blood roared in my ears as the taut, ever-thickening coils increased my helplessness, and my mind began to drift. I recalled that the heroines in romance novels always get taken captive and rescued by heroic men, but I never read of one getting tied up…not like this.

My brain snapped back to reality as Maria tightened and finished the knots on my hand bindings, eased my iPhone from my back pocket and turned me around. She got an old metal milk crate from the corner and placed it behind me.

“Now have a seat,” she said, pressing down lightly on my shoulder.

I silently complied. Maria knelt in front of me and proceeded to tie my ankles together with the another piece of clothesline. More rope was closing about my body, but I seemed more spellbound by Maria’s deft hands and efficiency as she finished knotting my ankle bindings.

“Just one more…” she said, picking up the last cord and wrapping it around and between my thighs. Now I got to study her work up close, and I saw how her binding pattern worked like pulleys, adding more power to her cinching. I was thrilled by the constrictions on my limbs, and utterly amazed to see Maria’s knuckles go white as she firmly pulled each loop taut and finally knotted it off.

She patted my knee and stood up.

There, how’s that?” Maria said cheerfully, looking me up and down. “I think that’ll hold you.”

I didn’t know what to say…in fact, I didn’t want to say anything.

She just smiled down at me, winked, turned on her heel and walked through side garage door and into the house. She shut the door and locked it.

A masterful silence descended around me — the sole companion to my captivity.
Last edited by Proteus75 3 days ago, edited 8 times in total.
Mr Underheel
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Post by Mr Underheel »

Uuhhhh….can’t wait for the next piece!
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Post by NotSeen »

If the beginning is any indication, this sounds every bit as good as Trace&Moogie has been... in other words, veeery interested to read more! Though, speaking of Trace&Moogie... you'll continue their second story as well? Please?
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Post by Trickster »

I hope this continues real soon!!!
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Post by Switcher1313 »

Continue please?
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Post by run2win98 »

This sounds amazing so far!
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Post by Proteus75 »

Mr Underheel wrote: 2 years ago Uuhhhh….can’t wait for the next piece!
Thanks, more on the way.
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Post by Proteus75 »

run2win98 wrote: 2 years ago This sounds amazing so far!
Thanks
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Post by Proteus75 »

Switcher1313 wrote: 2 years ago Continue please?
Will continue.
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Post by Proteus75 »

Trickster wrote: 2 years ago I hope this continues real soon!!!
Stand by...
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Post by Proteus75 »

NotSeen wrote: 2 years ago If the beginning is any indication, this sounds every bit as good as Trace&Moogie has been... in other words, veeery interested to read more! Though, speaking of Trace&Moogie... you'll continue their second story as well? Please?
Thanks, as always, for your support [mention]NotSeen[/mention].

After the next installment to this -- but ahead of the next Trace&Moogie installment -- I simply must praise and bump your fine work. 8-)
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Post by Proteus75 »

Part 2

Soon I had another companion — gravity.

The crate I was sitting on was warped and flimsy, and it rested unevenly on the garage floor. I also sensed that I was seated off-center; I’d been so rapt by Maria’s lashing of my hands that I hadn’t thought to adjust myself on the crate after she guided me down on it.

But my behind was my main point of contact, so I had to keep my feet — my only other point of contact — flat on the floor. However, the crate was less than a foot high, which forced my thighs upward at an awkward angle.

I didn’t dare struggle. Any sideways movement might pitch me over onto the ground. But tensing up into a single, rigid stance would tire me out and lead to muscle failure, making it impossible to stay vertical.

So to maintain my balance and flexibility, I had to keep rocking forward and back — resting just above my bound thighs, then rising slightly to alleviate the strain of leaning forward. I was like a broken metronome, tipping forward for half a minute, back for half a minute, then forward for half a minute, back for half a minute — over and over.

But that ongoing effort pressed the crate’s slats painfully into my behind, and increased the tension of my leg restraints — reminding me, again and again, that I was a prisoner in Maria’s garage. Meanwhile my hands and arms, so practical for staying upright, hung bound, limp and useless behind my back.

Whether she knew it or not, Maria had also tied me up into a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don’t predicament. As I persisted in this slow rocking exercise, I wondered vaguely if she was that diabolical.

This possibility added a whole new, tantalizing dimension to our friendship. Though I couldn’t define it just then, it was like she’d given me an appetite for danger. On the other hand, the strong hug of Maria’s cords made me feel safe, and special.

So I was also grateful to her. She’d really spiced up my Saturday, and I was more motivated to keep flexing and rocking, so as not to fall over and spoil the exciting trap she’d devised just for me. I’ve said she’s my BFF, so I couldn’t imagine allowing anyone else to tie me up like this. Moreover, I wouldn’t be enjoying it this much.

Those feelings — along with my shadowy surroundings and the faint smells of motor oil, gas and dust — went a long way with my imagination. I was truly trussed up good and tight, just like a kidnap victim…all alone in a cold, empty garage, helplessly waiting for the ransom to be paid.

If Maria really kidnapped me, what would she do when the ransom was paid? Would she leave me deep in a dark forest for the police to find? I saw myself tied to a tree with yards and yards of nice white rope — gagged with a matching white cloth.

I got so carried away in this daydream that I started to relax — and lose my balance. I caught myself and desperately leaned forward, but I overcompensated — which started me teetering like a bowling pin. I strained my hip, thigh and stomach muscles to keep from falling.

Sweating and grunting from the effort — and grimacing from the slats digging into my cheeks — I finally stabilized myself. I was still breathing hard when I heard Maria unlock the side garage door. Embarrassed, I gazed furtively at her as she entered.

“Hello,” she said, pulling out her cell phone. “I thought I’d take some pictures.”

I remained mute as she moved around me, taking close-ups of my limbs and ligatures. Now in addition to everything else, I felt exposed and vulnerable…almost naked.

“You’re so quiet when you’re like this, Andrea,” she noted. “That’s nice.”

I heard her place another milk crate next to me and sit down on it.

“Look up, Andrea.”

I obeyed, and she took a wide shot of me, followed by a close-up of my face. Then she stared at the picture on her cellphone screen, frowned slightly, and looked closely at me.

“Hey, are you sweating?” she asked, her expression stitched with concern.

Maybe it was my fatigue, or her compassion and sincere concern…perhaps it was the gravity of my feelings, or gravity itself…or all of that combined.

In any case, I finally gave way — caving physically now — and fell toward Maria. She dropped her cellphone in her lap and caught me with her hands.

“Oh my God, are you ok?” she said. “Here, let’s sit you up.”

She stowed her phone and sat me back up, but she soon realized I was too worn out to remain that way. So she put her right arm under my left — lightly grazing my left breast in the process — and stood us up.

My legs were a little shaky, but she kept me hooked with her arm, and my trust in her surged.

“Just stand here a second, and let your circulation come back,” she said quietly. I couldn’t help but gaze up at her longingly, but she was looking around the room, studying it.

“Ah, that’s it!” she said. She turned me toward her, grabbed me about the waist and carried me toward the side door, where the recycling bin stood. She set me down, grasped my bicep to steady me, plucked a large piece of folded-up, brown cardboard out of the bin and looked at it.

“The box to our large screen TV…” she said wistfully. “My mom finally tossed it out, but it’s still pretty clean.”

She gave it shake. When it unfolded, she laid it on the floor and hugged me.

“Now,” she said, “down you go.”

It was like a carnival of sensations as I went from Maria’s warm embrace to the cool feeling of the floor, where she placed me on my tummy. My breathing evened, and I felt the sweet relief of endorphins flowing into my limbs. At the same time I flexed, savoring the mild pain of the ropes’ restrictions.

Resting my head on my chin, I could see Maria rummaging through a box in the corner. When she returned, she was holding a long, green, bouncy rope — a bungee cord.

“We always keep this out here to use on long road trips,” she said, sitting me up. She knelt behind me, looped the cord around my arms and pulled it snug. Then, as she did with my wrists and legs, she passed it between my arms and torso, creating leverage so she could cinch my arms even more tightly to my body.

Once again, I experienced my dreamy deliverance into an even greater realm of helplessness. Maria knotted the bungee cord in the small of my back, and allowed the free ends and hooks to dangle on my bound hands.

She clutched my arms, lowered me back onto my makeshift pallet, and rolled me onto my stomach again. I felt a mild tug on my arms as she took up the free ends of the bungee cord.

“There’s still a lot left,” she said softly. Yanking harder, she looped the ends over my wrist bindings twice. This raised my hands slightly toward the small of my back, and tightened my torso trusses.

“It looks like we have just enough…” she said, lifting my feet. “It’s a good thing you’re so short,” she added, giggling.

As with my wrists, she looped the bungee cord ends over my ankle bonds, drawing my feet toward my butt. I felt her knotting the ends twice, then she rolled me onto my side.

I wriggled slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. The bindings bit deliciously into my limbs as I twisted around, and I let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

I glanced up to see her taking more pictures, including wide shots, and a couple of my face. She looked at her phone and grinned.

“Gee, in those last shots you seem so serene, Andrea,” she said. “You’re really good at this game, aren’t you?”

I felt myself blushing, and I smiled self-consciously.

“Well…” I started to say. She immediately placed her index finger on my lips, silencing me.

“Don’t say a word,” she said, putting her phone down and reaching into her back pocket. “I made something for you.”

She stared at me with a mischievous look on her face, then whipped her hand out in front of her. She was holding a short, thick white object.

She was going to gag me.

“I tore some old sheets, then braided three strips together,” she said, pulling me back onto my tummy. “It should prove quite effective. Now open wide…”

It did. “Mum-mmmmuummm…” I murmured, biting down on the heavy cloth muzzle as she tugged it between my lips and teeth, and knotted it tautly at the back of my neck.

“There,” she said, standing up. “Now you’re all snug and secure. Have fun…” My heart pounded in time with her steps as she walked back into the house and locked the door, leaving me alone in my captivity once again.

Yes, I thought, she IS that diabolical — and I couldn’t wait to see what she’d do to me next.
Last edited by Proteus75 2 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Tenuous »

So far this is wonderful--even better than your last story, imho. The way Andrea reacts to her increasing helplessness is a delight, as is your descriptions of the ropework and gagging sequences. I'm going to be eagerly keeping up with this.
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Post by Trickster »

I loved the scene with the homemade gag.
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Post by NotSeen »

Proteus75 wrote: 2 years ago
NotSeen wrote: 2 years ago If the beginning is any indication, this sounds every bit as good as Trace&Moogie has been... in other words, veeery interested to read more! Though, speaking of Trace&Moogie... you'll continue their second story as well? Please?
Thanks, as always, for your support @NotSeen.

After the next installment to this -- but ahead of the next Trace&Moogie installment -- I simply must praise and bump your fine work. 8-)
You're welcome - and thank you.

Now, as for part 2 - you really, really, really excel at describing the sub's emotions. Don't get me wrong, the descriptions of the tying-and-gagging process are on point, but what really makes your stories shine is the inner monologue of the point-of-view character. I'm already liking this every bit as much as the first story with Tracey & Moogie.
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Post by TightsBound »

I'm really really enjoying this so far. There's a hint of innocence to the whole thing, but with a dash of the exact opposite, which makes it very exciting. I can't wait for the next part!
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Post by Switcher1313 »

I am liking Andrea's predicament! I like it that you are describing her thoughts and feelings. Her chemistry with Maria is evolving and I can't wait for the next part!
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Post by FabianStr2016 »

This really is a great story, I loved the gagging part, it was written so well! I hope for another part
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Post by Mr Underheel »

I agree that this is just overall great stuff! The writing is as tight as the bondage that it describes! I would have loved to have had a friend like this sometime in my life!
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Post by Pseudonym »

This is great! I love their friendship and closeness
Look, one of us is getting tied up and played with before the end of the night. Is it me, or is it you?
My stories:
https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?p=107854#p107854
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Post by Proteus75 »

Pseudonym wrote: 2 years ago This is great! I love their friendship and closeness
More on the way!

[mention]Pseudonym[/mention]
[mention]Tenuous[/mention]
[mention]Trickster[/mention]
[mention]NotSeen[/mention]
[mention]Mr Underheel[/mention]
[mention]FabianStr2016[/mention]
[mention]Switcher1313[/mention]
[mention]TightsBound[/mention]
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Post by run2win98 »

Wonderful! Keep it going!!
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Post by Proteus75 »

Part 3

For a girl who was bound and gagged in her best friend’s garage, my mind and body were constantly and agonizingly active.

On one hand, I was basking in Maria’s kindness. She’d seen me perspiring, caught me when I fell, and ended my predicament on the milk crate. On the other hand, she immediately proceeded to totally tie me up on the floor, where my new plight began.

I could feel the cool concrete through my cardboard pallet. While it was a balm for my overheated form, my skin soon grew clammy. To relieve that chill and stay limber, I took to turning on my right side for a few minutes, then flopping back on my tummy when my right shoulder and arm got stiff.

Grow cold, roll right, get stiff, rock back…it was like the conundrum I’d suffered while tied on the milk crate. Half of this cycle involved lifting one shoulder off the ground, then twisting my torso and hips to allow my weight and gravity — an ally now — to slowly complete my wobbly maneuver.

Bundled up as I was, this wasn’t easy. The bungee cord around my arms restricted my twisting, and Maria had lashed my ankles to my hands with that same cord. I couldn’t isolate my leg muscles, which naturally flexed as I struggled, tightening my hand and arm restraints in the process.

And in my growing fatigue, I could never manage to relax my muscles slowly when I turned onto my stomach. That sometimes allowed the bungee cord to snap my sneaker-clad feet, slingshot fashion, into my still-aching buns.

All these exertions also left me wheezing through my gag — and drooling. Afraid of choking, I stopped trying to swallow and just let it run. My entire gag became sodden all the way to where it touched my earlobes. This sent tickling sensations down my neck that made me squirm and shake my head — and drool more.

But deep down, the throes of the predicament were like candy to me. This pickle Maria had design pinched, tickled, pained, tweaked, irritated, sapped and challenged me. My struggles against those things intensified the secure, sublime embrace of Maria’s bindings, and I wound up relishing all of it, including the aches and discomforts.

It was also a treat for my other senses. Along with the rough, bitter-tasting gag, I enjoyed the soft tinkling sound of the bungee cord hooks, and even my own grunts and muffled panting as I repeatedly wriggled back and forth.

Sometimes during a turn I caught a glimpse of the bungee cord, and its rigid, thick knots around my ankle bonds. While on my side, I reveled in the sight of my black thigh bindings and the multiple bungee loops around my torso — just under my breasts.

Of course, just like any close-fitting clothing, the ligatures accented my girlish curves and figure. Maria had made nice, neat package of me, that’s for sure. I liked the way I looked trussed up, and Maria must’ve liked it too…otherwise why had she taken so many photos of me?

Maybe she just wanted to document the day she’d bound her BFF fast and imprisoned her in her garage. I must’ve been in this place hundreds of times, but now, lying impotently on my side, I began to note all kinds of things Maria could use to ply her scout-craft on me.

Besides the rafters, there were some sturdy eye-hooks embedded high on the walls, some pinewood pallets, and an old wheel and tire. There was more interesting objects in their shed and house — things I’d also seen many times, but which now inspired new possibilities in the delightfully warped world Maria had led me into.

After a time I heard an autumn wind howling, followed by the sharp crackle of leaves against the outside of the garage. This magnified my sense of isolation and abandonment, reviving my kidnapping fantasy. Turning on my tummy, I imagined other places she could leave me when the fantasy ransom was paid…like under a viaduct, an empty lecture hall at her college, or backstage at our high school auditorium.

Maria’s return so startled me that I failed in mid-roll, and fell back on my stomach again.

“Whoops, didn’t mean to interrupt,” she giggled, kneeling down next to me.

She pushed me back on my side and started taking more photos, including several of my gagged face.

“I forgot to get these pics,” she said. “Hey, are you shivering?” She touched the back of her hand to my cheeks and forehead.

So I was. Despite my continuous flails forward and back, the chill had caught up to me. But like my squirming, the shivers had simply accentuated the tension of my ropes, sending competing quakes of pleasure throughout my being -- so I hadn’t noticed.

Now like a nurse, Maria was a taking things in hand.

“Ok, that’s enough for out here, let’s get you into the house,” she said, reaching over and untying the bungee knots at my ankles. After massaging my calves, Maria slowly unbent my legs and grabbed me around the shoulders.

“Uhgggghhhhh…” I moaned, flexing my legs.

“Hang in there, Andrea,” she said, lifting me into a sitting position. She squatted over me, grasped me under my arms, and stood us up.

As before, her touch and gentle manhandling reassured and comforted me, and I allowed myself to fall forward against her. She hugged me, and I could hear her heartbeat as she patted me on the back. She finished the hug with a fierce squeeze before lifting me up at the waist and lugging me into the house.

The side door entered into the kitchen-dining room, where Maria sat me down in a wooden chair at the head of the table. The stove clock, I proudly noted, read 10:22 a.m.

While I scooched around and made myself comfortable, Maria knelt, grabbed the free ends of the bungee cord, passed them under the chair and looped them around my ankle bonds again.

“Mmmmmm…” I murmured as she drew my feet under the chair and knotted them to the chair’s bottom rung.

“You know Andrea, you seem more talkative in this state,” Maria said, smiling. She must’ve known how weak I’d become, because she ran some sort of beige belt around my arms and through the chair slats to hold me upright.

“Urf! Urf!” I grunted as she tightened the belt just under my breasts.

After taking a few more pics, Maria wrapped me in a blanket and loosened my sopping gag, which landed with a soft plop on my tied thighs.

I swallowed a couple of times and worked my sore jaw muscles as Maria kneaded my aching shoulders — easing my pains while further swelling my affections for her.

I shut my eyes and shimmied my hips involuntarily. She’d rubbed my neck and shoulders before, but it felt a million times better while roped up. She finished, then draped her hands and arms over my shoulders. I drank in their strong, warm, soothing weight on me.

“Ohhhh…oh…that really felt good, Maria…” I finally said. “Thank you.”

“Ah, so you can talk!” she said, pinching my cheek playfully. “You mean the massage, right…?”

“Yes,” I said, stammering slightly. I wasn’t ready to speak about everything that had happened, and I almost wished she’d gag me again.

Thankfully she changed the subject.

“You must be thirsty,” she said, opening the fridge. “Here, I poured you some OJ.” She held a glass of orange juice with a straw up to my lips.

My eyes flitted up to Maria’s face as I drew in gulp after gulp of the sweet, refreshing liquid. She seemed like a giant, and the cords girding my hands, arms and legs made me feel like part of the chair — and very small again.

I emptied the glass, and she rinsed it at the sink. It was lovely to sit there, all bound up, and watch her move about freely, drying the glass and stowing it in the cupboard. Her motions also amplified my feelings of confinement, and the press of the ropes seemed to increase once more.

“Need a hand?” I wanted to joke, but I hadn’t quite found my voice yet.

All at once she was back in my space, sitting in a chair across from me. She placed her elbows on the table, her head in her palms, and beamed at me. Though I also felt radiant, I smiled back shyly, averting my eyes.

Then I felt her warm hand — on my knee — beneath the table. This minute bit of calculated intimacy seemed more powerful than all her tying, lugging and hugging of me. I flushed hotly from my head to my toes, and knew I had to level up somehow.

“Maria,” I said, still looking down, “that was…I mean this is…” I paused to take a deep breath.

Suddenly a loud, un-ladylike, juice-flavored burp erupted from me — and we both burst out laughing.

“Oh. My. God,” Maria finally managed to say, “who knew someone so small could make such a big sound!”

“Excuse me,” I giggled. “I guess the OJ, and all my rolling around…”

It felt like the ice had been broken somewhat, so I continued.

“Maria, I meant that this is…well, amazing.”

“Good, I knew you’d like it,” she replied, taking her hand from my knee. “By the way, my mom called when you were busy out in the garage. She invited you to go along with us to dinner tonight.”

I experienced a flash of panic as I imagined myself tied to a chair at Red Lobster, with Maria and her mom eating and ignoring me.

“Oh no, I couldn’t!” I spat out. “I must look awful, and I think I’m getting a cold.” I wriggled self-consciously in my ropes, which held fast.

“Relax,” she said, stroking my cheek. “She won’t be home until later, so you can nap in my room while I do homework. Then you can take a shower, and I’ll even wash your clothes…if you want.”

I bit my lip as wavelets of desire lapped against my heart. Even more than her hand on my knee, those suggestions kindled the tingle that had begun in my loins when she suggested we play the kidnap game just hours before.

"Yes, yes, I wanted…I want to be in your home…with no clothes on…with you, Maria," I thought eagerly. Though aroused, I tried to be coy and not overplay my hand.

“Ok, that sounds great!” I said. “I’m uh…you know, warmed up now, so why don’t take some more pics before I nap?”

She freed me from the chair and we spent the next half hour taking selfies. At first she had me hop to bathroom mirror — another skill I learned that day — but then I convinced her to use her phone camera’s countdown timer, so we could pose in her bedroom.

And pose we did:
  • Us smiling, side by side, Maria’s arm around me, just like lifelong pals — CLICK!
  • Us smiling, facing the camera, me in front, Maria hugging me from behind (not shown: my lashed hands dangling near Maria’s nether regions) — CLICK!
  • Us smiling, facing the camera, me in front, Maria behind with her head on my shoulder — CLICK!
  • Us, in profile, smiling at the camera, with Maria hugging me from behind — CLICK!
  • Us, in profile, smiling at the camera, facing each other, with Maria hugging me from the front — CLICK!
  • Us smiling, Maria facing the camera and hugging me; me, facing away but looking back over my shoulder — CLICK!
  • Us in profile, Maria behind me, holding my chest bindings, wagging her finger at me; me, looking back at Maria with my mouth and eyes wide open, seemingly scared, knees bent as if she'd just caught me trying to hop away — CLICK!
  • Us, facing the camera, me in front, eyes wide open again; Maria behind, grinning evilly, her left arm around my torso, her right hand over my mouth — CLICK!

We sat on her bed for another half hour and reviewed the pictures, including those of me in the garage. We chuckled over some of them, then Maria sighed and looked at the clock.

“It’s a little after 11:30,” she said, pushing me face down on the center of her full-size bed. “Let’s get you set up.”

She adjusted my position, removed my glasses and sneakers, and tucked a pillow under my head. Then I felt her take up those ever-handy bungee cord ends. Suddenly my torso was pinned to the mattress, so I presumed she hooked the ends to the bed frame.

“Now let’s get you a better gag,” she said softly.

My first gag wasn’t absorbent enough, I mused as Maria rummaged through her dresser drawer. But what else did she have in here…? Socks? Panties? Those prospects stirred my feelings of vulnerability, and I warmed to being the prey of Maria’s evil intentions again.

“I never wear this bandanna anymore,” Maria said, shoving a knotted cloth into my mouth.

“Oh well,” I thought as she cinched my gag tight, “at least it’s nice and big.”

She gave my helpless hands a squeeze, then sat down at her desk to quietly read — while I recollected my Saturday so far. I’d been roped up since around 8:15 that morning, and I was bound — ha-ha! — to stay that way for at least two hours more.

What would happen after my shower, when Maria had my clothes? Would she want more pictures of me? The possibility, though remote, was exciting. I was more than willing to pose nude for her…and more.

“It’s nice being here in her room, all cozy like this,” I thought, easing into sleep. My memory roved over all the events of the day — and the selfies we took.

They were just like everyone else’s happy, jolly, goofy, selfies that showed grins and horseplay between BFFs, I reflected.

But in every image, I was still thoroughly and tautly trussed, and not like in some lame duct-tape escape game on YouTube. In every picture Maria's expert rope-work on me was authentic and obvious — as was the fact that I was truly her tiny little prisoner.
NotSeen
Centennial Club
Centennial Club
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Joined: 3 years ago

Post by NotSeen »

Just as wonderful as your previous stories. The 'slow burn' is a thing of beauty. Looking forward to more!
DIRK
Forum Contributer
Forum Contributer
Posts: 59
Joined: 2 years ago

Post by DIRK »

Nice work
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