Old Friends (M/F)

[Z-13]

“It’s so good to see you!”
Cole and I embraced in an awkward hug. We hadn’t seen one another for over two years now — we’d had a sort of fling my freshman year of college, before he’d left the country. Now, he was back.
“It’s good to see you too, Leila.” He smiled. “Should we go in? It’s pretty cold.”
“Let’s!” I led the way into my apartment. It was going to be empty for several days, aside from me, as my roommate was visiting family. So Cole and I were alone. We sat on the couch.
I was a thin, short, 5”2 brunette with dark brown eyes and long dark hair to match. People my whole life have teased me over being short and petite, especially for my small hands. But though I was short, I at least considered myself to be somewhat attractive. I was wearing a long-sleeved gray shirt that was tight-fitting, and tight black jeans that complemented my figure.
Cole was tall, dark-haired, and handsome. He had stubble along his jawline and curly hair that fell into his dark eyes. He all but towered over me, almost reaching six foot. He wore a leather jacket and a white t-shirt with blue jeans.
“Please make yourself comfortable. Can I make you some hot cocoa?” I asked as we came inside.
“I’d love some.” He said with a warm smile. I disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later, I emerged holding a pair of mugs… and to my horror, Cole was holding a drawstring bag I’d lazily stashed inside the drawer, near the couch. A drawstring bag filled with rope, tape, and cords.
My face flushed, and my mouth gaped open and closed like a fish. Cole turned to me, and cocked an eyebrow.
“Miss Leila. I didn’t take you for this kind of girl.” He laughed.
I sat beside him and handed him his mug, face still as red as a tomato. “I’m sorry you had to find that. I, uh, it’s for stress relief. You know?”
“More than you, shortie.” He bumped me with his elbow. For some reason, it sent butterflies exploding through my stomach.
“More than me?” I copied his raised eyebrow. “Do you have something to admit, Mister Cole?”
He gave me that crooked grin again. “Wait here.”
He put his cocoa down and disappeared out the door. I glared at the drawstring bag like it’d been found on purpose to embarrass me.
A few minutes later, Cole returned with a duffel bag, which he dropped heavily on the carpeted floor in front of me. I stared at it in shock.
“What’s all that?” I asked. My voice came out as a kind of squeak.
“My own personal collection. Only, I’ve never really had the chance to use any of it.” He shrugged. “I was kinda hoping… that maybe, you’d like to break it in with me. Seeing as, well, you know.” He gestured lamely to my bag.
If I thought my face had been flushed before, it was nothing compared to now. I could hear my blood pulsing past my ears.
“Well.” I said in a small voice, placing my mug on the table next to me. “If that’s what you want.”
He sat next to me again, turning my face gently to look into his eyes. “No, Leila. It has to be what you want.”
His brown eyes were warm. Meekly, I nodded.
“I’ve never been really tied up before.” I admitted. “I’m terrible at doing it to myself.”
“It’ll be a first for both of us.” Cole said with a smile. He played with a lock of my dark hair for a moment. “We can go slow.”
I turned to look at his duffel bag. “What’s in your bag of mysteries?”
His eyes twinkled. “Surprises. If you wanna find out, you gotta say the words.”
“Alright, fine.” I rolled my eyes at him. Then, in a smaller voice, “Let’s do it.”
He kissed me on the cheek, and suddenly I was a mess of nerves and butterflies again. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for a long time.”
He started by pulling the rope from my bag. “Put your hands behind your back, babe,” he ordered with a grin. Just those words sent a rush of heat through my body. I turned around, putting my arms behind me. I felt a loop of rope slide around my wrists.
His lips suddenly touched my ear. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.”
“Oh, ha, ha,” I joked back. In response, he tightened the rope, and I bit back a yelp of surprise. He wound it around my wrists a few more times, then finally, cinched it in the middle and tied it off where I couldn’t reach.
“How’s that feel? Not too tight?” He asked.
I tested the bonds tentatively, my fingers wriggling like worms looking for the knot, but it was tied off too high up. I then struggled playfully, but the rope was secure, and didn’t so much as budge. “It’s fine,” I said. “But you could do better.”
He patted my head. “Oh, my naive little captive. We’re just getting started.”
With that, he looped another rope around my forearms, and pulled it tight. The rope was secure but not painful, and squeezed me like a snake. He cinched it off and my arms felt even more melded together than before. He didn’t pause as he moved up to my elbows, and I felt a twinge of fear as the next loop of rope started to pull them together, just below the joint.
“Tell me when to stop.” He said. I waited until a slight burn began in my shoulders before I yielded and told him to stop. They were closer than I thought I’d be able to handle, but not quite touching.
Cole cinched them off and they became that much more secure, and I bit my lip to prevent making any noise. He then proceeded to tie yet another loop above my elbows, tightening them just a little closer together. The burn increased, but I barely cared as a pulse of excitement coursed through my body.
“Test that out,” he said, leaning back to admire his handiwork. I wriggled my arms, but they were practically melded together. I then struggled a little harder, rocking my shoulders back and forth, grunting, but by the time I’d given up, I’d gotten nowhere.
I stood, panting a little bit, and with a mischievous smile. He watched me with a sly smile of his own. “Where do you think you’re going?” He laughed.
My grin widened. “I’m escaping. Duh.” I turned to make a run for it, and danced away from his hand as he tried to grab me. I barely made it a few paces before his arms crushed my chest and he threw me onto the couch with a breathless giggle.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said dramatically, and then flipped me over onto my stomach. I kicked at him, but with my arms bound as securely as they were I was powerless to resist as he pulled off my tennis shoes and my socks, throwing them aside.
“Your feet are so tiny!” He laughed. I squirmed like a worm on a hook as he crooked my feet in his arms and began to tickle them. I squeaked and bucked, but I was powerless to do anything aside from wiggle my toes and fingers and futilely try to pull my legs away.
Finally, when we were both out of breath, he pulled his duffel bag over with his foot and dragged it over to him, still holding on to my legs. I struggled playfully as I heard him unzip it and pull something out, but I couldn’t see what. It was easy to guess, though, and I was proven right when I felt more rope loop around my ankles and pull tight.
“Let me go,” I laughed, trying to kick at him again, but he pulled the rope tighter and cinched my ankles so tightly I gasped, then tied it off. I pushed my feet up towards my butt, exploring for the knot with reaching fingers.
“No you don’t,” he growled playfully, and yanked my legs back. I heard him grab something else out of his bag, and something off the floor. I turned and could scarcely see him holding my own socks and a roll of duct tape.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, desperately trying to free my arms. To no avail, of course — the rope was so secure that I could barely move them.
“Taking care of your curious little hands.” With that, he shoved a sock over my right hand, pulling it up so tight that it was forced into a balled up fist. He then took the duct tape and wrapped it around my wrist just below the binding, keeping the sock taped there, and then around the sock as well. He kept going until my hand was a useless ball of cloth and tape, and repeated the process on my left hand.
I did my best to pull free, but he’d taped my hands so tightly that they were stuck in little fists. I laughed, a bit taken aback by the brutality of it.
“You’re taking no half measures,” I commented. In response, he slapped my ass, and I yelped in surprise.
“Of course not.” Cole said, looping a second rope around my calves. “You’re much too slippery to take any chances.”
He pulled the rope tight, and I winced a bit. I wondered when he’d let me go — I realized I hadn’t asked just how far he wanted to take this little game.
But that moment of brief concern was forgotten as he cinched off the calf rope, and moved on to tying another just below my knees. A shudder of pleasure went through my body as my feeling of helplessness grew. There was absolutely no way I would be able to escape on my own, now. This was much more exciting than my self-bondage adventures, in which anything I did had to have some kind of an easy escape.
He repeated the process above and below my knees. Then, thinking to himself, he pulled me up into a sitting position. I tested my leg bonds, but quickly realized it was no use to struggle or wiggle out of them. He’d tied them together brutally tight, since the jeans gave me more protection against the bite of the rope.
“What now?” I asked, as he tied a rope around the one connected to my wrists.
“You just sit there and look pretty.” He told me. “I’ll deal with the rest.”
He then tied that rope around my stomach, looping it around several times, tightly. My breath hitched at his touch, and at the squeeze of the rope. Even then, there was still quite a bit of length hanging off the small of my back, below my tied hands.
Cole had a plan for that, though. He pulled me to my feet, and I gasped as he poked the ends of the rope in-between my thighs. I knew what he was planning, and already felt excitement blooming inside my abdomen.
Without warning, Cole grabbed the two ends of the rope and pulled it tight against my crotch. I gasped as he pushed me back into the couch to pull it even tighter. I squirmed pathetically, panting, as it rubbed in-between my cheeks and pressed into me.
“It’s tight!” I whimpered. He responded with another quick jerk, and I winced.
“You’ll thank me later,” he said with a wink, as he tied it off brutally tight at the front of my stomach, sure to erase any slack in the process. Now, not only were my mittened hands tied to my back, but any attempt to wiggle my arms or yank them away sent all sorts of sensations rushing through my most tender parts.
Satisfied with his work, Cole moved back to my legs, where he wound another two loops around my upper thighs, gluing my legs even more securely together. In the past I’d found that thigh ropes slipped off easily with wiggling — but with how tight Cole cinched them, they didn’t so much as budge as I tested out my new bonds. He stood back and watched me for a moment, my struggling much more hindered than before due the the addition of the crotch rope. I kicked my bound legs pathetically, and Cole laughed as I pouted at him.
“Still too much wiggle room, I think.” He said, and I gaped at him. How could he possibly add anything else to this?
My question was answered momentarily. Cole grabbed my bound legs and spun me on the couch so that I was laying on the back with my feet held in the air. I squirmed, uncomfortable at the bite of the rope between my legs. He then wound another loop of rope around the soles of my feet, pulling tight and cinching them together. Now, even my feet were melded together. Cole then brought out a bit of yarn, and tied my big toes together, careful to do it gently. He even cinched them!
Still, he wasn’t satisfied. Cole sat me up again and began weaving a rope around my chest, above and below my breasts, under my armpits and behind my neck. He tied it expertly, sure to tie the knots in the front(where even if my hands were free from the mitts, I would never be able to reach them). The result was an intricate rope harness, causing my humble breasts to bulge out like they never had before. He even looped over my arms as well, ensuring I couldn’t pull them any further away from my body.
He laughed when he saw my expression. “You’re so cute when you pout,” he said. He pulled me toward him by the ropes around my chest and kissed me on the forehead.
“Screw you, Cole,” I said, struggling. It was no use of course.
He sat next to me on the couch, with a wicked grin. He held up his phone — it was open to the timer app, which had been set for 10 minutes.
“Here’s the deal,” he told me. “You have ten minutes to escape. If you are able to, I’ll let you tie me up.”
I wasn’t going to lie, revenge sounded tempting. I wriggled my bound arms. “If I can’t?”
“Then I get to keep you captive as long as I want.” He winked. “So? What’ll it be?”
It was risky, I knew. And I didn’t think I could escape my current predicament all that easily. But I had an idea. “All right,” I told him. “Start the timer.”
“Go!” He pressed the button and it started counting down. I wasted no time wriggling beneath the pressure of the ropes, testing my bonds. My muffled fingers were helpless, even if I could have reached any of the ropes around my wrists.
I stood up, balancing precariously on my bound feet, tied toes aching. With a grunt, I started hopping towards my room.
Cole laughed but he sounded nervous. “And where do you think you’re going?”
“You didn’t say anything about me using tools,” I quipped back, careful not to trip and fall on my face.
Cole followed me, watching, as I came to the door. Like an idiot I’d left the door closed. Then again, I hadn’t expected to be tied up and with mittened fingers the next time I was going to open it.
Muttering a curse, I maneuvered myself so that my back was to the door, and experimentally felt for the handle with my wrapped-up hands. With my fingers balled into fists inside the socks and duct tape, it was going to be trickier than I thought, and I had to tug against the rope securing my fists to my back and crotch to even reach the handle.
I positioned them on the door knob and tried to turn it. Unfortunately I had no grip, and the handle fell back to its original position. But I was not to be deterred. I kept trying for the next few minutes, until at last, the door opened up a crack. By that time, my crotch was throbbing with heat.
“Five minutes,” Cole told me, coming up beside me to show me his phone. “You sure your plan will pay off?”
“Maybe if you stop distracting me,” I told him, and went to hop forward into my bedroom. I wasn’t expecting his foot to be in the way, though, and I crashed heavily to the carpet.
My shoulder and hip took the brunt of the impact. I rolled over, wincing in pain — I was sure to have bruises later.
Furious, I said, “you cheated!”
Cole shrugged innocently. “We never specified I couldn’t put obstacles in your way.”
Grumbling, I rolled onto my stomach. It took me another two minutes to get back up — as Cole gleefully reminded me. Without the use of my hands, and with legs bound, it was a tricky ordeal, and I had to use the wall as a crutch.
At last on my feet again, I hopped over to my desk as quickly as I could, the weight of the time limit bearing down on my shoulders. There, in my pencil cup, was my savior — a pair of scissors.
I leaned forward, and grabbed them with my teeth. After that, I was able to drop them onto the floor, where I sat down beside them.
“One minute left,” Cole taunted.
Clenching my teeth, I laid on the ground and maneuvered myself as quickly as I could with my back to the scissors. It took some time to locate them, but I quickly realized with mittened hands, there was no way for me to effectively use them, unlike the door handle.
I tried, anyway, managing to pick them up but unable to position the blades around any of the ropes entrapping my arms.
A minute later, Cole’s timer went off, and I went limp, defeated. Cole scooped up the scissors.
“A noble effort,” he croned, putting them back into my pencil cup. “But you failed. Ready to become my official prisoner?”
I wriggled in his ropes, lying on my back to look him in the eyes. “Cole,” I said seriously, “I think I need a break, first. My arms are killing me, and I think the crotch rope is too—”
Before I could finish, Cole pounced, kneeling over me and pressing his hand against my mouth. “Shh,” he said, with a wicked grin. “You lost your right to opt out when you agreed to my challenge. You belong to me, now.”

[TightsBound]

Great story so far! Descriptive and well written, and has me anxiously awaiting part 2. Excellent choice of bonds, from shoulders to toes Thanks for writing!

[laz]

interesting start

[hafnermg]

Great start!! Looking forward to the next chapter!!!!

[CarouselCowboy13]

Great and Awesome Start

[Madame_du_Barry]

Great story!