Sarobah : Adversity (F/F)

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Sarobah : Adversity (F/F)

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by sarobah » Fri Apr 06, 2012 5:12 pm

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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Post by Soraka »

, running it up her thigh, under her dress, where it lingered until he sat down. Annie came out of the kiss flushed and flustered. Her face reddened even more when she saw my look; but there was a playful glint in her eyes. Watching them, from across the table I could sense Rick’s power. Sitting there bathed in the morning sunlight, under his deadpan stare, I felt a cold shiver pass along my spine; and as his penetrating gaze moved down my body, I felt a peculiar tingling inside me.

Rick said, out of the blue, “So, you’re the little minx who introduced my girl to bondage.”

I almost spat out my coffee. I cautiously looked around, but people at the neighbouring tables continued to ignore us. Annie appeared neither concerned nor surprised.

“Getting to the point much?” I replied, when my voice recovered. He just raised an eyebrow, and didn’t immediately follow up. Instead we engaged in small talk, some to-and-fro banter, as we circled one another, sizing each other up. When we returned to the subject, I told him of the tie-up games I had played since I was a little girl and described how they had evolved and matured. He claimed he’d begun tying up his sisters at an early age; they were older, which made him precocious – a term he used without sarcasm or irony. By his adolescent years, he had graduated to tying girlfriends and any female he could legally get his hands on. Those were his words, and it was impossible to tell if he was joking.

When his story terminated in the present day, Rick clasped Annie’s hand and they gave each other another mushy kiss. During the conversation, she had said nothing. She followed his every syllable with an attentive, revering expression which laid bare without the need for words how besotted she was. This was so unlike the Annie of our roommate days.

Rick turned back to me. “We owe you,” he said. “I’d like to return the favour.”

I looked at him. I was about to say “For what?” but instead, out came “What did you have in mind?”

“We can work on something,” was all he said.

Before I could push for details, Annie interjected. Suddenly she was talkative, and for the next couple of minutes she hardly paused for breath. I don’t even remember what she said, only that every so often she cast a furtive glance towards Rick. His face had returned to the expressionless, unreadable state which so intrigued and unnerved me when we were introduced.

Rick insisted on paying for the coffee and croissants, and when he and Annie had departed, I sat for a few minutes thinking about what he had said. The next time I met with Annie, I interrogated her about her new boyfriend.

“You haven’t even told me what he does. Is he a student?”

“Yes, he’s a freshman. We met at a party...”

“A freshman? What, are we slumming now?” I shook myself. “Oh God, I sound like such a snob.”

She just grinned. “No offence. He bummed around for a few years before deciding to start over. He’s quite proud of it. He tells me I’m his role model.”

“And his bondage model.”

“More like his canvas... Ooh-ah, that didn’t come out right. His... tableau.”

“Is that how you met?”

She rolled her eyes and giggled. “Believe it or not, when we were introduced we hated each other. Well, hate’s a strong word; but I thought he was pretentious and he found me – I don’t know – a flibbertigibbet.”

“So the ropes brought you together?”

“Not entirely, but they helped.”

“For which you can thank me,” I reminded her.

“And so I shall.”

“What did you have in mind?” I said for the second time.

Annie’s face went serious and she looked at me for a full minute before responding. And that’s the moment my life changed.

There was a two-week vacation coming up. Annie and I had been planning to spend some of that time together, as we usually did. We both had jobs on campus that were put on hold during the holidays, so we didn’t need to worry about having to go to work. I was thinking about a few days of sun, surf and sand. Annie wasn’t.

“Rick has a friend... no, don’t give me that look. Let me finish. His friend has a property, out in the country. He said we can use it for a week.”

“He’s a farmer?”

“Well, it’s more of a hobby farm. He’s an architect with one of the big city firms.”

“Where will your friend be?”

“Rick’s friend, not mine; and I don’t know... I don’t get told this stuff.”

That was an odd thing for Annie to say, and it was still odder that she quickly caught herself.

“What I mean is, all I know is that the place will be vacant. Are you interested?”

I didn’t answer straight away, and it was her turn to give me a funny look.

“You don’t have a guy, do you?”

“No, I’m between engagements at the moment. And don’t you even think about trying to hitch me up.”

“It will just be the three of us.” Her wicked grin jolted me.

“Don’t you dare say it!”

“Say what?” she replied.

“Threesome!”

“Never entered my mind,” she smiled, innocently.

The rest of our conversation continued like this. The upshot is that I agreed, perhaps against my better judgement; but I trusted Annie and I liked what I had seen so far in Rick. In fact, my respect for him had grown by the next time I saw him, because he had moved into her apartment. He was flat broke and she paid the rent. Yet far from diminishing him, in my estimation it made him better. It takes a strong man to set aside manly pride like that. In any case, they were able to joke about it.

“I pay her in trade,” he explained.

Or maybe he wasn’t joking.

We met for a restaurant dinner a couple of weeks later. The place was just around the corner from Annie’s apartment, so we walked there and back. I was wearing a rather flimsy little frock, and on the way home Rick had promised to keep me warm. I thought he was going to offer me his coat, but instead he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close in to his side. His other arm was around Annie, and as we strolled I felt his hand move down my back until it rested on my bottom and played with my dress, his fingers dragging up the hem. I’d only had one glass of wine, but the cold night air must have made me a little light-headed, because I didn’t say anything. But I started to regret my remark about the threesome.

Once indoors, Annie and I retired to the kitchen to make coffee.

“He’s very affectionate,” I said.

She laughed. “That’s his way.”

“It’s who he wants his way with that concerns me.”

She just laughed again as she filled the cups.

We drank our coffee in the living room. Rick was seated in a large armchair, across the room from me on the sofa. Annie was sitting on the carpet next to him, her head resting on his knees. Every so often he tenderly patted her head and she looked up at him with adoring, puppy-dog eyes. Once we’d finished the coffee, she took the cups into the kitchen; and when she returned, without a word she took off her skirt and blouse and knelt in the middle of the floor, facing away from Rick. Her head was bowed; her knees were together and her hands were behind her back, palms outward. Neither she nor he moved or spoke; but when nothing happened after a minute or two, Annie looked up at me. She winked, and tilted her head in that coy, coquettish, come-hither manner which says more than mere words can express.

Rick did not have to do or say anything. That was his power. I felt it and I understood Annie’s infatuation.

“Oh, what the hell,” I said at last. So I knelt on the floor beside her, adopting a similar pose. I didn’t take off my dress but removed my watch and kicked my shoes to the side. As I did so, Rick asked for a safe signal and I opted for crossed fingers. He started to say “You know what this means” and I responded rather too impatiently.

“It has to be clear,” he started to explain, but I smiled and nodded and said “It’s okay.” He wasn’t just setting parameters, he was letting me know that he was not going to be entirely gentle with us. “That’s good,” I thought.

He started with me. I wasn’t sure at the time what he was using to bind me, and only later did I discover that they were silk ropes, ribbons and scarves, very much like those I had used on Annie that first time. His technique was to begin slowly and softly, and gradually increase the intensity. He alternated between Annie and me, allowing us to fully appreciate each stage of the process before progressing to the next level. He was leisurely and deliberate, extracting every sensation, making us know every strand of the rope, feel every knot tightening. When he tied my elbows, he started off with a few slack loops, taking his time so that the rope at first just caressed my skin. As he gradually drew it taut, I felt the pressure slowly grow, as my shoulders were pressed backwards and my chest swelled outwards. It was one of my most sensuous tie-up experiences because it happened at such a measured, unhurried pace. But there was something more to this. It was also his way of exercising total control, of attaining my complete and willing surrender.

He stripped Annie naked but left me in my dress. That didn’t stop him applying a very intimate breast tie and a crotch-rope that he positioned with care to ensure that my every movement sent waves of arousal through me. He put me in a hog-tie so strict that my knees were off the floor and my body arched backwards. He had attached a neck-rope to my wrists and ankles, but also a shoulder harness, done with such expertise that there was just enough torsion that it felt like I was about to choke, but with no danger of it happening. I should have been hurting, but the thrill and the stimulation channelled the pain into pleasure.

Rick took Annie in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, leaving me alone in my hog-tie. It was a long stretch, maybe a couple of hours; and in all that time I was never able to relax or to divert my mind from my bonds, not for a second, nor even to zone out like I normally could. The ropes had been applied with such diabolical efficiency that my entire attention was focused on them, and it was one of the most intense tie-up sessions I had ever endured. I wanted to scream and shout and curse and beg for mercy, but though he hadn’t gagged me (because he was to be out of the room for so long), somehow I held it all in. I was worried the neighbours might get the wrong idea.

By the time the two of them emerged from the bedroom, I was both exhausted and exhilarated. Annie was still nude, her hands still bound behind her back. She was now blindfolded as well. Rick freed me from the hog-tie and released my feet, but kept my wrists tied. He ordered me to roll over and lie facing upwards, and to spread my legs. Annie knelt between them. I braced myself for what might happen next, but nothing did. The guy was playing mind games… but really, by now I was pretty much beyond any of that. Instead, he went and made a cup of coffee for himself and cocoa for us. He untied Annie and she helped me drink mine.

When Rick drove me home, it was about three in the morning. We didn’t say much, and when we did he was polite and rather breezy – very much different from the man I thought I’d come to know. Yet it was impossible to identify which of the layers I had seen so far ran the deepest, or to guess what other surprises and mysteries awaited my discovery.
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3. The Night Before

Annie and I didn’t speak about that night in her apartment, but only because we didn’t need to. At first I was sure that this was what she and Rick had meant by repaying me, but when the three of us met for breakfast a few days later, the topic of the week in the country came up again.

“Still interested?” Rick asked.

“Of course,” I replied. By now I was comfortable with the guy and was pretty sure that – despite some aspects of his appearance – he was neither Lothario nor Bluebeard.

We arranged that I would spend the night before our departure at Annie’s place so we could make an early start. I arrived just as it was getting dark, and Rick greeted me at the door with a glass of wine and a peck on the cheek. He took my bag and deposited it in a corner of the living room. In private, he had shed most of his dark-menace persona. Dressed in a neat pair of slacks and a collared shirt, he looked almost... urbane. All he needed was a cravat and a pipe to complete the transformation.

I heard Annie’s voice from the kitchen, greeting me and telling Rick to pour me a wine.

“Done,” he called back.

“Have you offered her an hors d’oeuvre?”

“About to, honey.”

Good grief, I thought. This is like a scene the Twilight Zone – set in a parallel universe in which Rick has become domesticated and Annie makes hors d’oeuvres. I started to believe it was play-acting when she came out of the kitchen wearing a frilly apron over her dress. However, she caught my incredulous look and said, apologetically, “Don’t judge me. I don’t get to play hostess very often.”

Nevertheless, she was being just a little too housewifely. She took a detour from her cooking and to set the table. Rick tried to be helpful, but she ordered him to “Go away! Make yourself useful with Sarah.”

She could have phrased that better, but Rick poured me another wine. I had also offered to assist and was shooed off; so he and I sat in the living room, engaged in genteel conversation about nothing special. I felt I was slipping farther into that alternative reality; but the fun I’d been expecting started when the meal had been laid out on the table ready for eating. Annie emerged from the kitchen to join us. She had shed her apron... and her dress. She took her seat wearing just her bra and panties – small, pert and pretty, like Annie. Rick gave her an approving look, then turned towards me. He said nothing. I said nothing.

It was Annie who broke the silence. “Oh, go on,” she urged.

I don’t know whether it was the atmosphere or my two glasses of wine, but I just shrugged and sighed, unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it off my shoulders. Without getting up from my chair, I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans, and worked them down my legs until they lay in a forlorn heap around my ankles. Then we ate dinner.

I have done stuff a lot more exotic than sitting at the table in my underwear. Even so, there was something weird – not creepy, but definitely weird – about how not exotic it felt. We casually ate our meal, and swapped idle chitchat, and Rick carried on as if there was nothing at all unusual about having dinner with two young women clad in just their undies. Maybe that was the point.

Afterwards we retired to the living room. I left behind my shirt and jeans. We talked for a long while. Finally, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, Annie looked at me and then turned to Rick.

“Can you be tying us up now?”

Just like that.

Rick shifted the coffee table into a corner of the room and took his seat on the sofa. He instructed Annie and me to stand facing him, and without missing a beat ordered us to undress each other. Annie, likewise, did not hesitate. She moved to get behind me, and before I could react she was unfastening my bra. I let her slide it off my shoulders and down my arms. Rick and I were staring eye-to-eye at each other, but several times his gaze flickered downwards, to my bare boobs.

“What are you grinning at?” he growled, but could not repress a smile of his own.

“I guess you like what you see.”

“Well, they’re not exactly...” he began to respond, but Annie cut him off with a “Don’t you dare!”

I must have blushed, because his lips curled into a “gotcha!” smirk. Yet it was odd – I was more annoyed by his offhand estimate of my assets than embarrassed that he was getting to see them in all their modest glory. Anyway, Annie had resumed stripping me. She’d paused after taking off my bra, as if to give her boyfriend time to relish his treat before the main dessert. Then she crouched behind me and slowly drew my knickers down my legs until I was able to step out of them. As I stood at bare-skinned attention, refusing to cower or cringe, and determined to stare him down, Rick gave up the contest completely and allowed his gaze to crawl slowly up and down my torso, zigzagging from one pleasure point to the next. It was almost physically penetrating – I could just about feel the cool, smooth touch gliding over and around and through my naked curves and crevices.

And although I might have been nervous about where this might lead, I was feeling only the only the thrill of apprehension and the tingle of anticipation. My bravado has gotten me into sticky situations before…

But now it was my turn, and I decided on payback. I wrenched Annie’s brassiere from her chest with such force that she gasped and staggered backwards. Rick grinned and gave me an encouraging nod. I yanked her panties down.

“Careful… they’re silk,” was all she said.

After that, Rick told us to remain standing there stock still, feet and knees together, arms rigidly at our sides, looking straight ahead, uttering not a sound, so long that I grew impatient for the ropes. I thought at first he was just enjoying the sight of our nude bodies, maybe assessing and comparing us. Then I imagined he was trying to induce a reaction from me. Only after a long, long time did I realize what he was up to. Like the slow, deliberate way he had tied us up that other night, he was giving us time to savour our nudity, to appreciate his scrutiny of our most intimate parts, to put us in the most receptive mood for what was to come.

Rick was a master of manipulation; and I don’t mean that in the negative sense, but rather in the manner of a highly skilled masseur. He was able to fashion and mould perception. It sounds almost mystical, the way he was able to reshape my experience, turning pain into pleasure, humiliation into pride. He was like the sculptor who needs only to subtly carve the marble, as he seduces the artwork from the block. In the same way, by demanding from me an act of humble submission, Rick gave me the confidence and the strength to draw from the well of my innermost desires. And so, for the first time ever, being tied up was almost an anti-climax. But that was good – it made me hunger for more.

As he did the first time, once we were bound and helpless, Rick took Annie to the bedroom and had his way with her. When he returned to the living room, he returned alone. He released me from the hog-tie but kept my hands and feet bound. He did, however, loosen the ropes slightly, for proper blood circulation – a signal that I was going to be that way for the rest of the night.

“Now I’m going to put you to bed with Annie.” He saw my eyes widen so he quickly continued in a more reassuring voice. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

He carried me into the bedroom and put me on the bed beside Annie. He placed me lying on my back, on top of my pinioned arms, and I wondered if I was going to be tied down and have to stay that way. But he made his motive clear as he drew the sheet up over the two of us, very slowly, so I could feel its delicate caress moving up my legs, over my belly and across my breasts. By the time we were covered, I was all goosebumpy and panting. He kissed Annie and reached under the covers to fondle her until she was gasping. Then he left us together in the darkness. I rolled onto my stomach – not easy to do with my arms bound behind me and another body sharing the bed. Annie grunted in displeasure as the mattress sank and rebounded while I got as comfortable as I would be for the next few hours. Then she did the same.

Her breathing had taken some time to return to normal, and when it did we talked for a while, in whispers because Rick had ordered us, like we were little girls, to go straight to sleep. I don’t recall what we spoke about, and then I awoke and it was sometime before dawn, with just the faintest golden glimmer on the eastern horizon. Annie was still asleep, lying on her side facing towards me. She was quietly moaning. I realized she was dreaming. I could imagine what she was dreaming about.

I needed to go to the bathroom but I didn’t want to disturb her. So as gently I could, I wriggled my way to the edge of the bed, sat up and put my feet on the floor. I stood up – it took several attempts, with my hands tied behind me, and each time when I fell back onto the mattress I heard Annie stir; but she didn’t wake. I hopped, with small jumps so as not to make much noise, to the door, which Rick had left slightly ajar. I continued my bunny-hop to the bathroom, only to realize that I had no way of switching on the light. So instead I felt my way to the pedestal, using my hips to guide me along the wall and past the shower cubicle, trying not to trip or slip. And somehow it didn’t surprise me that Rick was the sort of guy who left the seat up. It took a good deal of bending and flexing and twisting to get it down without dropping it and causing a racket. The next bit took some gymnastics as well.

I had left the bathroom door open and got a horrid shock when a blaze of light erupted from beyond. Fortunately, there were no more surprises, and Rick greeted me in the living room.

“Good morning,” he said cheerily. “Hope you slept well.” He was still in the clothes he had worn the previous evening, now crumpled from a night on the sofa. Otherwise, he looked disgustingly spry.

“Fine, thanks,” I grumbled.

“Coffee?”

“Yes please.”

I was standing naked, bound hand and foot, in front of my best friend’s boyfriend, and all I could think about was my morning dose of caffeine. I hopped after him into the kitchen and, the coffee made, he held the cup to my lips and allowed me a few sips. He didn’t offer to untie me and I didn’t ask him to.

A few minutes later, Annie came hobbling out of the bedroom, looking as bedraggled as I must have, and still blindfolded. She mumbled a greeting as she passed the kitchen on the way to the bathroom, feeling her away along the wall and bumping – with a loud curse – into a piece of furniture along the way. Rick followed her, and I said nothing. I was more concerned that I had to wait for him to return for my next mouthful of coffee. When he came back, he had Annie slung over his shoulder. He slapped her hard on the bare backside, then dumped her, quite brusquely, on the kitchen floor. She muttered something profane.

My only reaction was to say “More coffee please.”

Rick untied us only so we could prepare breakfast. We were forbidden to put our clothes on; and after we’d eaten, we were tied again, although just hands behind backs. We had to shower together, which took some improvisation, and to dry each other off, which required both dexterity and ingenuity. In the bathroom that morning, Annie and I got to know each other in some ways better than ever.

It was still not long after sunrise when we were ready to go. Rick had gone off to shower and change clothes, and left us with permission to untie each other, but with orders to remain naked. I managed to free Annie’s hands without too much effort, but she was having so much difficulty untying mine that I suspected she was being deliberately inept. She apologized, and left some lasting fingernail impressions in my wrists.

Rick returned, smiled approvingly at us for some reason, and then turned to me with a most serious expression.

“You still want to go through with this?” he asked.

“Of course,” was all I answered.

“I think you’ll enjoy what’s in store. But you must promise to behave, to be a good girl, and in return I expect complete, unquestioning obedience.”

That was certainly a peculiar way of putting it – total submission my reward for good behaviour. However, it was Annie who uttered the key phrase. “Are you game?”

How could I resist that magical phrase?

“There will be a safe word and a safe signal,” he continued, “but if you use either more than once, we call it quits, the game is over. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes... sir?”

“Good girl.”

“You will be totally under my control. All that’s required of you are trust and obedience.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Say it. You need to say it. I need to hear it.”

“Trust and obedience, sir.”

“Good girl,” he said again.

“It’ll be fun. You will love it.” Annie spoke as if she knew this from experience.

But then my attention was diverted to the coffee table. On it was an assemblage of objects – cuffs for wrists and ankles, two leather collars, a couple of red ball-gags, black blindfolds and a pile of small gauge chains. Rick ordered us to kneel on the sofa, facing the wall, hands behind our backs. He clamped the bracelets on my wrists. They were made of hard plastic but with rounded edges. Connected to each was a small catch, with which he locked them together. I hadn’t much familiarity with wearing handcuffs and I was rather pleased with the effect. Nonetheless they were tight, and I had to lift my hands into the small of my back to ease the strain. He put another set of bands on my ankles but did not join them. He placed the collar around my neck and buckled it tight. It was well-crafted, stiff but with soft trimming so it didn’t chafe. He secured a chain about my waist and attached my wrists to it. He wrapped the blindfold around my head and knotted it. I knew that the gag was coming next, but before I could open my mouth he pinched one of my nipples, making me squeal. As I did so he pushed the ball between my teeth. He didn’t need to do that, and in fact it was the first time he had touched any of my female parts except in the normal course of tying me up. It was his way of establishing his dominance over me, and it worked.

I stayed in position until Annie was ready as well. Only then, once the initial buzz had dissipated, did it occur to me that we had to go outside the house, to get to the car – nude, bound, gagged, blindfolded. However, it was still gloomy, and from the lack of sounds I could tell that the street was deserted. Rick guided me out and helped me into the back seat. It was Annie’s car, which I knew had tinted windows – a great reassurance. Annie slid in beside me. Rick thoughtfully fastened our seatbelts. He then disappeared for a couple of minutes; and I hoped it was to load the bag containing my clothing and other bits and pieces.

As I sat in silence, chomping on my ball-gag to get it just right, adjusting my hands so the weight of my body wouldn’t be pressed against them and the seat for the entire journey, I started to think what an incredible risk we were taking. What if we were stopped by the police? What if we had an accident? What if I got carsick? What if I needed to go...? There was no point in worrying about these things now. It was too late for anything but backing out altogether. I could have done that just by putting up a struggle to let Rick know that I’d had enough. But I did not, and our fate now lay in his hands. In fact, the perils of our journey excited me, as that telltale tickle between my legs gave me something else to worry about.

Already our week in the country was turning out like nothing I had ever experienced or expected. And we hadn’t even left Annie’s driveway.
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4. A Walk in the Country

During the long drive, Rick said hardly a word. It would have been a one-sided conversation anyway. He played music and concentrated on his driving. Behind him, Annie and I did the best we could to make ourselves comfortable, or at least less awkward. I had to sit slightly forward on the seat to ease the pressure on my shackled arms. The leather upholstery felt slick and cold and clingy against the bare flesh of my bottom and thighs. It was a queerly erotic sensation, intensified by the wobbling and swaying of the car once we’d turned off the highway and on to a heavily corrugated dirt track.

Next to me, I could hear Annie’s breath rasping through her gag. She kept nudging my foot with hers, but I couldn’t tell if she was trying to send some sort of message or just wanting to make physical contact. I returned the gesture, running my toes along the calf of her leg. Her skin was warm and clammy, and I felt one of her veins – the blood was pumping hard and fast. I toyed with the buckle on one of her ankle cuffs with my big toe, and she giggled. It was about the only time Rick spoke to us – “What are you two doing back there?” – and it was such a simple, silly thing. But it was comforting and reassuring. It is, after all, a strange, lonely, alienating experience, to be naked and bound, gagged and blindfolded in the back seat of a car heading out into the countryside.

Every so often, we heard the whoosh! of a car or truck cruising by in the opposite direction, and each time I tried to slump as low as possible, beneath the level of the side window. I didn’t invest all my faith in the screening properties of the tinted glass. However, traffic was light and we encountered no hitches or glitches. Indeed, the rhythmic motions of the car, in company with my blindfold, began to have a soporific effect. I found myself continually dozing off. So I had no real sense of how much time had passed when a sudden change in tempo, as we turned off the main road, brought me back to full awareness.

The steady rumble of the wheels changed abruptly to the crunching of pebbles under tyres and the scraping of low-slung tree branches across the roof of the car. We travelled on for some distance across a jarringly bumpy surface before the engine cut out and we rolled to a halt. When Rick opened his door, I could hear the chirping of crickets, far-off bird-cries and the rustling of leaves in the wind, but no vehicle sounds or anything else to indicate a human presence apart from ourselves.

“Here we are,” Rick informed us, as if it could be otherwise. He opened my door, gripped my arm and half assisted, half dragged me out of the car. I stood on a dirt surface, apparently the side of the road, because when I took a small step backwards, I felt the tickling of long grass on my legs. It felt nice to stretch my muscles and straighten my back. I revelled in the mid-morning sunshine, warm and soothing. Scents of the countryside, rich and subtle, wafted over my body on a gentle breeze.

I had no idea what was coming next; and I jumped, literally, when I felt Rick’s hands on my shoulders. He was rubbing and massaging my skin. At first I thought he was smoothing out the crinkles and cramps from our less than cosy ride, but once he had worked his way down my arms, he started on my torso. I flinched when his hands began kneading my breasts, cringed as they passed over my belly and into my crotch, relaxed a little as they progressed down my legs all the way to my feet. The shock didn’t last, because from the faintly metallic smell I realized he was applying sunscreen lotion. Still, it was unsettling to have those unfamiliar hands in my private places. It also meant that Annie and I would be naked for some time yet.

Rick, as I had already learnt, was very good at strategic pauses, taking his time to do things to make us feel each experience in its completeness. He took his time with me, and he took his time with Annie. Unable to see, feeling vulnerable and edgy, I tried to focus my remaining faculties, to make sense of my surroundings. Then he took off our blindfolds.

We were standing near the summit of a long, moderately sloping ridge. To my front, the ground fell away in mild undulations, into a small valley flanked by rolling hills and jagged, truncated spurs. It was mostly grass meadow, dotted with a few trees and raggedy shrubs, strewn with boulders and outcrops of dark basalt. The creek which had carved the valley was intermittently revealed and concealed by a meandering ribbon of lush green foliage. Halfway along, nestled in a bend, the roof of a farmhouse peeked through the treetops. The view was rather hazy – I was still blinking to adjust my eyes to the sunlight, and a mist was lifting out of the valley – so it was hard to judge the distance; but it looked to be at least an hour’s walk away, maybe two. With mounting unease, I realized that I was about to find out for sure.

Standing there in the open, I felt even more exposed without my blindfold. I looked back towards Annie’s car and then out across the fields. One offered sanctuary, the other promised adventure. In the end, I am what I am, and it was not a difficult choice.

While I was preoccupied with my thoughts, Rick had gone back to the car. He returned with another length of chain and two leather straps. He attached the chain to Annie’s collar, long enough to reach down to her waist. He took hold of the free end and used it to guide her to a position directly in front of me, so we were facing each other. My heart sank a little when he secured it to a catch on my collar. Annie and I stared into each other’s eyes. I studied her face. She was slightly flushed, and her brow was sweaty. She was breathing heavily through her gag. Dribble leaked from the corners of her mouth, trickled down her chin and dripped onto her naked breasts. She looked haggard, and apprehensive, and excited, and incredibly sexy. No doubt so did I.

Annie and I continued to stare at each other, joined less than an arm’s length apart, as Rick worked on the rest of our fetters. He removed the chain from my waist, though it was still attached to my wrists shackled behind my back. He crouched down and secured it to my ankle cuffs. There was just enough slack that I could stand upright and walk with small steps. He did the same to Annie. Then he took one of the straps and tied it to Annie’s collar. He ran it down her front and between her legs, cleaving the soft pink folds, and up behind her, wedging it between her buttocks, and fastened it to her wrists. He pulled on it rather harshly to make it snug. She gasped through her gag and her eyes widened almost comically. The strap was tight enough, once secured, that she had to stoop slightly to ease the pressure on her tender parts. He did the same to me. He had to probe and prod in order to position the crotch-rope just right, and I squirmed.

“Stand still!” he barked.

I glowered at him. “It’s easy for you,” I thought. “You’re not the one being poked.” But all that would make it out past my gag would be undignified grunts and gurgles, so I kept my silence.

Pleased with his efforts so far, Rick stepped back to admire his handiwork. He thought for a minute while we awaited his pleasure. He scratched his jaw and smiled, returned to the car and came back with a piece of soft nylon cord. He fashioned little nooses at each end, and looped one of these over Annie’s right breast. He tightened it just enough to make it secure but not so much as to squeeze the flesh. He put the other noose on my left breast. He then tied a knot in the middle of the cord to make it the same length as our neck leashes.

Now satisfied, he stood alongside us. I looked away, but he tugged on our boob tether to get our full attention.

“Are you still okay with this?” he demanded.

Unable to speak, I lowered my gaze and nodded my head. I glanced up at Annie. She rolled her eyes, exhaled impatiently and proudly past the red ball clamped between her jaws, and nodded vigorously.

“You will be on your own,” he warned. “I won’t be there to help you. It should take you at last a couple of hours,” he continued, pointing towards the floor of the valley, at the farmhouse among the trees. “I’ll be waiting for you there.”

Leaving us to reflect on his words, Rick went back to the car once more. This time he brought a water bottle. He took off my gag and draped it over my shoulder, and held the bottle to my lips. I gulped down as much as I could, knowing it would be my last chance to drink for quite a while.

“You have got to be kidding!” Annie exclaimed when Rick tossed the empty water bottle towards the car and held up our gags in front of our mouths. It was the first thing either of us had spoken since she’d told me in her apartment that this would be fun. I resisted the urge to make a belated reply. But her outburst must have inspired Rick because, with a wicked grin, he switched our gags, pushing mine past Annie’s protesting lips. I clenched my teeth for just a few seconds before submitting. As he buckled it in place, it gave me a little tingle to taste Annie’s sweetness – like honey and peach and plum wine.

“It’s time,” Rick said. He gave his girl a hug, kissed her forehead and both her breasts, tugged on her crotch-rope to make sure it was properly positioned, and gave her a resounding slap on her bare backside. He stroked my shoulder, brushed a leaf out of my hair, adjusted my gag slightly so the strap wasn’t biting into my skin, and gave me also a slap on my bottom. I stared straight ahead, into Annie’s eyes. She wasn’t staring back but rather past me, with a pensive expression. Since I was looking out over the valley, she must have been gazing wistfully towards her car, our last refuge of safety and security.

Rick took hold of Annie by her hips and swivelled her around so we were standing side by side. This drew the chain linking our collars taut and shortened the distance between us, so that our arms touched. He was pointing again.

“See that fence?” I discerned a broken row of posts and railings protruding from the grass. “If you follow it all the way, it will take you directly to the farmhouse. It’s basically a straight line.”

Yet I could see it was not going to be that simple. In two places, strips of greenery intersected the fence-line, which indicated a creek crossing. There were no doubt other, less obvious obstacles and hazards. The course looked challenging, treacherous, a great adventure.

“You will need to co-operate, work together. You’ll both do just great. I think you’ll enjoy the bonding experience.” Rick left us for another moment, to consider his words. I heard the car door open and shut. “If you get into any trouble,” he said on his return, “just sit down where you are. Don’t move. I’ll be watching you.”

He held up a pair of binoculars. That was it. No more instructions, no more warnings or reassurances.

“Move out,” he said.

We took our first, tentative steps. The dry grass and leaf litter crunched and crackled underfoot. Beneath it, the soil was parched and rock-hard. We had to be careful in our bare feet, but only a very occasional sharp twig or protruding stump caused any damage. We quickly established a rhythm, halting and jerky though it was. The tethers which linked our collars and our boobs weren’t a problem so long as we stayed close together, keeping our shoulders in contact as a guide. Our ankle chains, however, made very effective hobbles, forcing us to take only small paces; and since they made it impossible to step over any but the tiniest obstacles, each time we encountered an obstruction we had to stop and work our way around it. Every so often the chain would catch on something, bringing one of us close to tripping. At one point, Annie did stumble and ended up on her knees, pulling me down as well. Fortunately, we did not fall over completely, since it would have been very difficult getting ourselves upright again, the way we were. I did not fancy twenty minutes of rolling about in the stiff, prickly grass, with my arms bound, joined to Annie. However, it pulled the nylon noose off her breast, leaving the cord dangling from mine, swaying lazily to the cadence of our strange journey across the meadows.

Our progress consisted largely of alternating two steps forwards and two steps sideways – so we sort of zigzagged our way down the long slope. By trial and error, we devised a series of gurgling and growling sounds to communicate – “ng-ng” meaning “slow down”, “gh-gh” for “watch out”, “k-k” for “follow my lead” and so on. At least I think we got these worked out. Sometimes we worked against each other, impeding our advance, so maybe our communication wasn’t as proficient as we believed. But for two gagged girls, it was pretty darn good. And just to make it interesting, Annie spent most of the time humming through her gag – show tunes, no less.

The sun was now high in the sky, and beating down with enough intensity to make me grateful for the lotion, as there were no trees along the fence-line to offer shade. Clouds scudded intermittently across the sky, and a constant breeze fanned the grass and leaves, so on the whole the temperature was mild enough. More of a bother were the flies and other tormenting creatures which I could not shoo off as they buzzed around my eyes, crawled over my lips, bit and stung my unprotected flesh. I cursed Rick for not having the forethought to add a layer of insect repellent to the sunscreen.

I was, however, more worried about snakes and ticks... and of course about the chances of some farmer or field hand or hiker coming across us and getting the shock of his – or perhaps worse, her – life. Every so often, we paused to scan the countryside, but it soon became obvious that we were completely alone. I began to realize that we were probably already on Rick’s friend’s property.

Nevertheless, I froze in sudden terror as a loud rustling noise emanated from a clump of tall shrubs not far away. In panic, I turned towards Annie, to see dread in her eyes before a smile curled around her ruby red ball-gag. The plump, honey-brown forms of several Jersey cows emerged from the thicket and ambled languidly across the meadow. A couple stopped to stare across the field at us, ruminating over mouthfuls of grass. Annie and I looked at each other, with mutually raised eyebrows. We were stark naked, chained and gagged, sweating and panting.

“Silly cows,” I thought.

The beasts regarded us with a mournful shaking of their great heads, before heading off to follow the herd.

“Sorry, girls. I don’t mean you.”

Pretty soon, though, another issue arose. As we progressed, my crotch-rope began to do the job it was designed for. My back was already aching from having to stoop from the wrist-to-ankle chain, and now each step that I took increased the stimulation between my legs, as the strap worked its way into my cleft and rubbed methodically against the sensitive tissue. I hadn’t realized until then that the leather was plaited. As we shuffled along, it not only delved deeper into both my creases, but the braiding on the strap began to work its insidious magic. To ease the pressure and reduce the friction, I had to keep my knees apart and slouch even more, and push my arms downward. This just made walking all the more difficult.

But the arousal had another effect. Although salivation induced by the gag had given me a raging thirst, the tension in my bladder was becoming unbearable. I tugged on our neck chain by flicking back my head, and when Annie stopped to see what was happening, I bent my legs to get into a half-squat – not easy to do without losing my balance completely. Annie decided to join me, but as she did so our knees bumped and we almost toppled anyway. As blessed relief came, I turned my head around to see if Rick was watching us through his binoculars. He was. I moaned and Annie gave me a funny look.

“It’s a little late to be embarrassed,” I scolded myself.

When we continued on our way, I now had to contend with a wet crotch rope. Yet it was the least of my concerns by then, because we had arrived at the first creek crossing, and I wasn’t sure how we were going to get to the other side. It was only a few steps wide and the water no more than knee-deep, but the banks were slippery and lined with dense undergrowth. Annie hesitated, almost ready to concede defeat; but when I turned and saw the glint of Rick’s binoculars, now reassuring, I looked for a means to make our way across. Just downstream was a narrow, cattle-trodden muddy track, not much more than a shallow rut but enough to give us an unimpeded passage to the water’s edge. We carefully manoeuvred ourselves along the path and across the creek. The water was freezing cold, and the bed of pebbles was hard under my bare feet; but we stayed upright, and as we hauled ourselves up the far bank Annie blurted out a muffled but unmistakeable shout of triumph.

We continued our epic journey to the farmhouse. The second creek was a more formidable obstacle, but we were now brimming with confidence. However, Annie lost her footing on the slimy surface and, unable to catch herself with her arms bound, fell, bringing me down as well. As we staggered to our feet and stumbled out of the water, blood was running down the shin of her right leg. She didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t seem to care.

And then, looming in the distance, was the stand of trees which surrounded the farmhouse. Our last barrier was a fence running perpendicular to the one we had been following. It had a locked gate. The railings were sufficiently spaced for us to squeeze through, but it required planning – difficult enough with our gags – and some skilful manipulation on account of our bonds and tether. It took maybe half an hour of laborious manipulation, and I would have proud of our effort if I wasn’t so sure we looked absolutely ridiculous doing it. In the meantime, I had lost sight of Rick.

Past the gate, Annie and I rested, although there was now nothing between us and the farmhouse. We looked at each other and I had to laugh at what I saw – and what she saw back. Naked, begrimed, lathered in sweat, collared and chained together, red ball-gags stuffing our mouths, saliva dribbling down our bare chests and bellies, arms shackled behind our backs, feet hobbled, sodden leather crotch-ropes embedded in our lower parts, faces flushed in exhilaration and humiliation and pride. Our walk in the country had been a fine test of mental and physical toughness, endurance and persistence – the sort of challenge that has always got my juices flowing.

Suddenly, Annie’s eyes widened – a look of frantic horror. I spun around, in doing so yanking our neck chain and almost dragging us both to the ground. As I recovered my poise, I found myself standing face-to-face with a stranger. Through perspiration-misty eyes, I could see that he was tall and handsome (in a weather-beaten mode). He appeared to be in his late twenties. He was dressed incongruously in Wellington boots and an expensive business suit. He didn’t seem startled to see us, but rather amused. He looked us over, sparing no part of our bodies, while Annie and I just stood there, helpless. He grinned and nodded with approval. Then he lifted his head to look past us.

“You’ve brought gifts,” he said.
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Post by Soraka »

by sarobah » Sat Apr 14, 2012 2:18 am

This story is evolving into a version that is more “adult-oriented” than I anticipated. As a result, I am posting the remainder in the PG-17 section.
~ Sarah

I hope I'll also be able to find the last parts....
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Post by An OCD Hatter »

https://sarobah.blogspot.com/?zx=5708a29718a5c17d
Adversity

Friday, December 12, 2008

5. David’s Place


I relaxed a little when I heard Nick chuckle, but he never spoke, and I turned my attention back to the stranger.

The man reached out and thrust a hand between my breasts, grabbing the strap which ran down from my neck to my crotch and between my legs to my wrists. With his other hand, he seized Annie’s. He drew us towards him until I felt his hot breath ruffling the strands of sweat-plastered hair on my forehead; then he began backing up, towards the house, pulling us along with him. Frantically, both Annie and I swung our heads around to see if Nick was following; but he had disappeared from sight.

It was an old-fashioned farmhouse, weather-beaten, wanting re-roofing and a paint job, untidy and neglected – in need of a woman’s touch was all I could think of. Half a dozen steps led onto a broad veranda. The man led us along a gravel path – the sharp pebbles tickled between my toes, but a couple of hours of hobbling barefoot across open ground had inured me to such minor discomfort – and up the steps. With my ankles shackled, I took them slowly, while he brusquely tugged at my halter. Annie and I protested through our gags, but he just grinned at the incoherent noises we made.

When we were on the porch, he let go of the straps and ordered us to kneel. Without the use of my hands and with my ankles constrained, this was impossible to do without dropping onto my knees. The impact with the wooden boards sent a shock of pain up my thighs. Annie, however, lost her balance and pitched forward. I didn’t have time to react as she hit the deck with a dull thud. The neck chain jerked and I toppled, bracing myself for the blow as my breasts and chin rammed onto the floor.

I was only stunned for a second, but I was annoyed with Annie – not because she had fallen, but because she was writhing and twisting beside me, as if trying to get up onto her knees. The neck chain caused me to move about as well, grating and grinding my sore breasts against the floorboards. Mercifully, the man planted his boot on her backside to stop her squirming.

“Be still,” he yelled, without contrition or compassion, and she just whimpered; but she settled down.

I heard him open the door. It wheezed and groaned on rusty hinges. He went inside, then came back out and crouched in front of where we lay on our bellies. He pushed a hand beneath my left shoulder and under my breastbone. He did the same with Annie and, with a single heave, he lifted us into the kneeling position. That took a lot of strength, but then he gently stroked my face and wiped a dab of saliva from the corner of my mouth. His fingers were not coarse like a farmer’s, and I remembered Nick saying he was an architect. I looked into his eyes. They were a greenish-grey, and they conveyed both tenderness and firmness. That may have been my imagination, but it is what David turned out to be.

I was more amazed by what he did next. He leaned forward until his shoulders were between Annie’s and my waists. He planted a hand on my backside, clenching a fistful of my bare flesh, and suddenly raised himself until he was standing upright, with his two bound, naked captives slung over his shoulders. He staggered just a bit, and I was terrified he would fall backwards, hurling me face-forward to the floor; but he steadied himself and carried us into the house. He had to manoeuvre sideways to get us through the doorway, then he took us through the kitchen – it was cluttered and rather dirty, looking very much unused – and into the living room. In contrast to the kitchen, this part of the abode was luxurious, with lush carpet and fine furniture. A large bookcase contained an impressive collection of volumes, and the corner bar held a comprehensive range of wines and liqueurs. Above the elegant fireplace hung a nude portrait of a strikingly beautiful woman, a brunette wearing a diamond-studded choker and tiara. She bore a striking, if feminine, resemblance to our host.

He set us down and left us there, lying on our stomachs and appreciating the soft, thick pile of the carpet. We could have sat up or even got to our feet; but there didn’t seem to be any point in doing so. I heard muted voices, one of them Nick’s, and it seemed like ages before the two men came into the room. For a long time they appeared to ignore us. They stood at the bar, poured drinks and discussed the vintage (or the brew or whatever it is connoisseurs discuss). After that, they sat side by side on the sofa, looking down at Annie and me. They weren’t saying anything. We were pointed towards them, but I could not raise my head high enough to see what they were up to. Finally, however, Nick spoke.

“This is my good friend David. Say hello, girls.”

Annie and I muffled a greeting through our gags, and for additional effect I wiggled my backside. That elicited a laugh.

“I like her,” David said.

“She’s yours,” Nick replied.

I gurgled an indignant protest. I wasn’t angry or afraid – after all, what did I think I was in for when I made myself a part of this? – but I was offended. How peculiar… prostrate, naked, bound and gagged on the floor, at the feet of my best friend’s boyfriend and a complete stranger, I was upset for my dignity!

Staring at David’s boots, I was startled when they suddenly moved. The two men got up, bent over us and unbuckled our gags. I sucked in a huge breath, licked my chapped and chafed lips, exercised my aching jaws.

“Don’t say a thing,” Nick commanded. “You will only speak up if you really need to. Understand?”

I nodded, staring at the base of the empty sofa.

“Welcome to my home,” David said. “As you saw when we came through, the kitchen doesn’t get much use. Hopefully, you’ll be taking care of that.”

As he was saying this, he crouched down beside me and lifted my feet until he had my legs in a hog-tie position. He bound my ankles to my wrists. My crotch-rope had been compelling me to arch my body slightly to relieve the strain, but now the pressure was reversed. The leather strap penetrated relentlessly deep into my crevices, front and back, evoking once again that queer combination of pain and pleasure. Beside me, Annie was grunting and moaning as the same was done to her.

“We’ll be here a week... unless you give it up and go home... which you can do at any time. We want this to be fun for all of us, you see.”

“You will be restrained for all that time,” Nick took over. “There won’t be a moment when you won’t have something – gag, blindfold, chains, or whatever...”

I did not even nod, but I was wondering about that “whatever.”

“There will be lots of playtime,” David continued, “some of it rather – uh – extreme. There will be rituals as well, and lots of other things to keep us entertained.”

“But there’s more,” Nick went on.

“Okay,” I thought, “here it comes.” I glanced towards Annie to see if she was reacting – in other words, to see if this was as news to her as it was to me. Her head was turned away, but she appeared to be nodding. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but her response seemed to indicate that there was nothing familiar here. Of course, neither of us said a word.

“Naturally, you have the right to stop the game at any time; but there’ll be a price.” Nick’s tenor changed. “You have to co-operate entirely. If either of you breaks the rules or disobeys any instruction, it’s over. We go home. Got it?”

Again I nodded. Annie made an “Mmm-ing” sound.

“Good girls.” Nick sounded pleased, with us and with himself.

I tested my bonds. It was a good, clean hog-tie. However, the crotch-rope was having its inevitable effect. I steeled my nerves. “I’m sorry, but I have to say something.”

I thought I heard a sharp intake of breath from one of the men.

“I need to pee.”

Both men laughed. For one fearsome second, I imagined they were laughing at me, that I was in trouble. Then I considered that I was lying immobilized on expensive carpet.

“Of course,” David responded. “I apologize...”

“No need to...” I stopped myself, remembering my orders.

Annie and I were released from our hog-ties. Nick and David helped us to our feet.

“Out through there, down the corridor and turn left.” David explained. “Wait a minute,” he added. I waited for him to remove my crotch-rope, but instead he held up our ball-gags. “Can’t have you girls gossiping as soon as you’re out of sight.”

Having practised and perfected our synchronised hobble over rough ground, we had no trouble negotiating the short passageway, past two bedrooms; but the cramped confines of the toilet cubicle presented a different challenge. Annie mumbled what sounded like “You first,” so I manoeuvred myself into position, and she had to bend over as I sat down. Being naked, I didn’t have to worry about getting my pants off, but that damnable crotch-rope was still in place, so I had to lean forward, forcing Annie even lower, staring straight into my lap. A few seconds later I felt blessed relief, but now I had something else to deal with – a wet leather strap wedged between my legs. An interesting thought dawned – drying leather shrinks. Oh goodie, I thought, this will be fun.

Annie and I changed positions. As we turned in the narrow space, our chests bumped. Her bare skin was hot and clammy, and she was so buzzed that I could feel, through her breasts, her heart beating furiously. We stared straight into each other’s eyes, and she had the strangest of looks – of defiance and fury and shame – like a wild beast being tamed.

Either her body was more supple than mine, or her crotch-rope was not as tight, because she managed, even with her hands pinioned behind her, to move it out of the way. Leaning over her, I had an excellent vantage point, and as I viewed the proceedings, my brain switched to flashback mode. This time yesterday, I was sitting in the physics department staff lounge, sipping coffee and organizing next semester’s lecture materials on my laptop. Could even I, with all my own unique experiences, have imagined that just twenty four hours later, even discharging bodily functions would become an adventure? I must have giggled at the thought, because Annie gave me another odd look – “What’s so funny about watching your best friend urinate?”

I dribbled – I didn’t mean to – and a little globule dropped onto her thigh and rolled languidly down the inside. Annie snorted through her gag. And as she raised herself off the seat, she gazed wistfully towards the toilet paper mounted on the wall, then at me. I shook my head... impossible. She wiggled her hips to shake herself dry.

When we re-entered the living room, our menfolk were sitting on the sofa once more, with refreshed glasses. Nick waved his hand to call us over, but in the middle of the room we were told to stop.

“Annie, sweetheart,” he said, “what’s happened there?” He was pointing towards her belly. He turned to me. “Fix it.”

Obediently, I twisted away from Annie and backed up until my fingers found the leather strap running the length of her torso. Shifting it wasn’t easy, because not only were my arms shackled behind me, but I had my own crotch-rope, attached to my wrists, to contend with. I ran my fingers down the strap, and she flinched as I slid it back into her crease. I glanced at the men, still lounging on the sofa, watching us with amused arousal. As I did so, by feeling Annie’s, I noticed something interesting about both our crotch-ropes. Where the strap pressed between the labia, the inner surface of the leather changed from smooth to a braided, lumpy texture. Hand-crafted for maximum stimulation.

Nick again motioned with his hand for us to approach. He and David had moved closer together, so Annie and I could stand between their outspread knees. I was in front of Nick. He placed his hands on my hips and slowly drew them down the outsides of my thighs. Then he slid them back upwards, along the insides. When his fingers touched the strip of leather and felt the wetness, he jerked away. I stifled a giggle behind my gag, as he resumed his exploration. His fingers tugged at and played with the strap before entering me. I stared straight ahead, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Annie cringe as the same was being done to her.

I was not sure what I would have done – could have done – if the guys had taken it further. For the first time since I realized, hours earlier, that we’d be walking to the farmhouse, I began to question my judgement. Had I let myself in for more than I could handle?
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