© Copyright 2019 - Igor Stravinsky - Used by permission
Storycodes: FF; flatmate; trip; Sbf; prepare; naked; basement; gag; rope; armbinder; cuffs; caught; F/f; hum; toys; insert; strappado; punish; nipple; bdsm; crop; arousal; kiss; denial; hogtie; reward; tease; cons/reluct; X
It was Saturday, around 10:00 a.m., and Emily Walker sat on the couch of the small house she rented watching television and drinking coffee. She was dressed in loose light-gray workout pants with thick pink socks. She wore a sky-blue t-shirt that came to just above her navel, exposing her flat stomach. The tight t-shirt hugged body like a second skin, emphasizing her breasts, making it obvious that she wore no bra. She had her long legs pulled up in front of her on the couch, and she peered over them at the television. She shook her head a bit to clear her bangs from her eyes, setting her blond, asymmetrical bob in motion.
“Hey, dipshit,” Emily heard from behind her. It was her roommate, Fiona Martinez, with whom she shared the house and the rent. Fiona walked in wearing a long, loose t-shirt that came to her knees, exposing the bottoms of her dark-skinned, shapely legs. Emily knew Fiona well enough to guess that she wore nothing underneath. The t-shirt hung off her large breasts away from her body, swishing back and forth as she walked in. Her black ponytail similarly swished back and forth behind her.
“Morning, loser,” said Emily. Several years of living together had made them comfortable talking this way. To Emily, it felt easy and familiar. “You’re up late. Sleep around last night?”
“Fuck you,” said Fiona. “It’s a Saturday. You’re supposed to sleep late. What kinda creepy shit are you up to anyway, this early? Not doing any work, are you?” Emily had a good position at a local bank, while Fiona was a paralegal at a public-advocacy law firm. Emily did occasionally bring work home on the weekends, and Fiona gave her endless shit about it.
“No, just up is all,” Emily said. “So, what’s up, other than not you?”
“Ha. ha. ha,” Fiona said. “I don’t know. Just bored, I guess.”
“Yeah? Well, what do you want to do about it, whiner?” Emily teased.
“I don’t know, Em. Fuck?” Fiona deadpanned.
“Really,” Emily tossed back.
“Yeah, like horny little lesbian bunny rabbits,” Fiona said, looking at Emily.
“Sounds exhausting, Fi,” said Emily, sipping her coffee.
“Or, you know, we could just watch ‘Say Yes to the Dress’,” Fiona said, settling down on the other end of the couch.
“More like it,” said Emily, as the two of them turned to the program they loved to dish on, criticizing and making fun of the participants, each trying to one-up the other in mock cruelty. It was one of Fiona’s favorite pastimes.
Later, Fiona’s phone rang. She looked at it and said, “Shit! Work.” as Emily gave her a side-eye. Fiona raised her middle finger at Emily and swiped the phone to answer.
“Hey, Paul, what’s up? No, it’s OK. I wasn’t doing anything just now. What? That actually sounds pretty cool. New York? Hell, yes! Thursday? I’ll be there! Should I just pick up my ticket at the airport? No? OK, I’ll get it at work on Monday. Thanks, Paul!”
“What was that?” Emily asked. “I’ve never heard you get that excited about work before.” Emily knew Fiona loved her job but put on a world-weary cynicism. The call must have been really exciting to garner such a response from Fiona.
“I’m going to New York!” Fiona said excitedly. “Some kind of community organizing training. They’re going to pay for everything! I’ll be there for four days! Doesn’t that sound awesome?”
“You know, it actually does,” said Emily. “So, Thursday, huh?”
“Yeah, I’ll be gone for four days,” said Fiona.
“Well, since you’re going to be gone, maybe I’ll do something fun, too. I have a couple vacation days saved up at the bank. Maybe I’ll go camping,” Emily said.
“OK, Nature Girl, go out and tame the savage wilderness,” Fiona mocked. “I’ll be in New York, savoring the delights of civilization.”
“Hey, to each her own,” said Emily. “Hope you have fun, Fi. I’ll make sure to turn the coffee pot off before I leave.”
What Fiona did not know is that Emily had no intention of going camping. She made that plan up in the moment to take advantage of Fiona’s trip, and make Fiona think she was out of the house as well, so as not to raise suspicion.
For, as close as they were, Emily had a secret she had never shared with Fiona, or anyone else for that matter. She loved bondage. She had never felt she could trust anyone with her secret, so she had to practice it by herself. She loved the feeling of being held immobile, having things happen to her that were beyond her control. Since she had no partner, she had to do it all herself, but once the final lock clicked into place, she always knew that she was not in control, until whatever release method she had rigged up ran its course. Every time, she got a weightless feeling, like what she imagined skydiving must be like, an incredible rush knowing that she could do nothing but struggle and accept whatever indignities she chose to inflict upon herself.
Over the years, she had become quite good at it. She had amassed quite a collection of toys – cuffs, chain, clamps, floggers, rope, a huge collection of locks, and what she liked to wryly think of as “insertables”. She had vibrators and dildos that worked all sorts of magic on her body, and when they were working, the knowledge that she couldn’t get rid of them when she wanted made them work all the better.
Since she lived with Fiona, she had to confine her activities to her bedroom, or wait for a time when she was absolutely sure Fiona would be out of the house for a while. Although they were incredibly comfortable with each other, one unspoken rule of the house was that each other’s bedrooms were strictly off-limits. It was a matter of trust, and a need for privacy. Emily knew she could play her games in her room, if she were quiet, or when Fiona wasn’t home, and she was safe. She had become adept at clandestinely procuring the things she needed. She developed an ice timer release system that did not require her to freeze string into an ice cube, thus raising suspicion should Fiona find it. Instead, she had a D-ring with a double bar that she would hang from the ceiling or the frame of her four-poster bed as need be. She would then put one or more ice cubes into a length of nylon stocking, passing the end through the d-ring before attaching it to the string with her keys. She always made sure the key string had some extra weight on it. That, combined with the smoothness of the D-ring, ensured that the stocking would not become stuck, trapping her and forcing her to call to Fiona for help (God, what a disaster that would be! she thought).
That Saturday night, after bed, Emily celebrated by putting a ball gag, ankle chains, and handcuffs in front of her. She lay the keys on the bed stand, crawled under the covers, and brought herself to orgasm several times, the gag and the blanket doing a good job of keeping the noise confined to her room. After her third, she thought, I should save it. It won’t be easy to do, but if I don’t come again until Thursday, it will be mind-blowing. Just thinking about it made her hand wander between her legs again, but this time she held steady and went to sleep.
The following days crawled interminably for Emily. As much as she loved being around Fiona, at this point Emily could not wait until she left for New York. True to her promise to herself, she refrained from bringing herself to orgasm for those days. She knew, however, that her bondage games would be wildly more intense if she came close and denied herself in the days leading up to the big event. Therefore, each night she locked herself up in some way and used her collection of vibrators to tease herself and come right to the edge before backing off, imagining a harsh mistress who was denying her as a cruel torture for some minor infraction. Each night, she could work herself up for a shorter and shorter time before she approached the precipice and she had to fight hard to stop herself. It was increasingly difficult to concentrate at work and she had to make great efforts to remain focused, constantly drifting off into a reverie imagining her coming adventures.
Thursday finally came, not soon enough for either girl, but for very different reasons. Fiona had one medium-sized suitcase packed. She travelled light compared to some of their friends. Emily had brought out some of her camping equipment, to keep up the ruse.
“Well, my flight is at 12:00, I better get going,” said Fiona. It was 9:30 in the morning. The airport was about 45 minutes away, and she liked time to relax before her flight. She came over and hugged Emily. “Have fun on your National Geographic tour,” she said.
“I hope you get mugged,” Emily said, but gently, returning the hug. “Seriously, Fi, this sounds pretty cool.”
“Yeah, I know,” Fiona said. “And actually, camping sounds pretty cool, too. Low-key, but cool.”
“Thanks,” said Emily. “Have a good trip!” she said as Fiona walked out the door to her car.
“You too,” said Fiona.
Emily could hardly wait. She wanted to jump in right away – she had been thinking of little else for four days! But she knew to savor the anticipation. The first thing she did was go to her room and completely disrobe. The front curtains were closed, so she enjoyed the sensation of walking around naked – something she almost never did with Fiona, who would make fun of her for it. Her breasts bounced gently, and her bare feet swished across the carpet. She gasped lightly when stepping onto the cold tile of the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator, the cold air giving her goosebumps and stiffening her nipples. She got out a bottle of white wine and poured herself a glass. She took it to the living room, sat on the couch, put her feet up on the coffee table, and turned on the TV. She paid it little mind, instead carefully planning her first adventure as she sipped the wine.
Something easy to start, she thought. I have four whole days, don’t want to peak too early. Plus, bondage without stimulation would just make her hornier and the following sessions even better. Over the wine and with much further thought, she decided to start with a short session of restraints only, enjoying the simple sensation of being bound. She would then subject herself to a long session of teasing and denial, until she was nearly out of her mind with desire. Only then would she allow herself the pleasure of one (or many more) orgasms while being tightly bound.
After about 30 minutes, she got up, took the empty wine glass into the kitchen, and padded back to her room. Being naked felt so good! In her bedroom, she ran her hands up and down her toned, thin body, taking care to avoid her pussy (That’s for later!). For a few moments she lay on her bed and stretched luxuriously, bending her legs one at a time and sliding her feet across the sheets. She breathed deeply, got up and pulled a suitcase out from under her bed. As she tossed it onto her bed, it rattled and jingled. She opened it to expose her entire collection of toys neatly stored therein. “Something simple, but strict,” she said to the empty room. She gathered several toys and went down to the basement.
At the top of the basement stairs, she flicked on the light. It was one, dim, bare bulb, which gave the whole basement a dark, chilling atmosphere, perfect for her purposes. Emily pulled a small stool between two heavy posts that held up the ground floor and would play a critical role in her game today.
She set her toys on the stool – two identical lengths of rope, two heavy rubber cuffs, a short wooden rod with a heavy eyelet screwed into one end and a loop of thin leather attached to the other, several padlocks, and a harness gag that wrapped around her entire head and had a large panel in front to cover her mouth and hold in the attached rubber ball, keys to all the locks, and her release, the d-ring and nylon stocking, this time with two normal size ice cubes in it, and several lengths of sturdy string. The basement was cool, but it being summer, was not cold enough to keep ice frozen. It was more damp and clammy than anything, and might slow down the ice melting, but would not stop it, which was fine with Emily.
First, she set up her release. She fed the free end of the stocking through the D-ring, checking that the ice was enough to stop it pulling through until it melted. It was. She then hung the D-ring from a joist in the basement ceiling and hung another length of string from a joist directly between the two posts. She made sure the knots were secure, then stood between the posts with her legs spread, and reached behind her. She could reach the string easily, so she knew that when it fell, it would come right to her hands. She then attached the keys to all the locks to the string along with the extra weight of a small wrench and tied it to the loose end of the stocking. The keys would now be held high in the air until the ice melted and the stocking slipped through – far from her questing hands once she was bound.
Emily had already thought the plan through over her glass of wine, so she now moved quickly, but carefully and thoughtfully. She didn’t want to waste time until the ice melted, but didn’t want to get stuck, either. Four days would be a long time to wait for Fiona to get home.
She doubled up each length of rope and tied each with a secure knot to the two posts, giving her a long loop of rope coming from each post, leaving about two feet in between them. She got down on the floor and picked up the end of the rope on her right. She pulled the end over itself to make a loop, then doubled that loop. She passed her foot through that loop and pulled it snug. Once she stood and pulled it snug, without her hands, there was no way that loop was coming loose. She repeated the procedure with her left foot and awkwardly struggled to her feet, now about three feet apart.
Next, she put on her gag. She always savored this part, enjoying the feeling of gradually enclosing her head and taking away any intelligible speech. This one was quite severe. It had straps that crisscrossed her head and went under her chin, heavy buckles that could be locked (though she wouldn’t today) and various rings securely attached to allow her head to be securely attached to other things. Finally, a large leather panel with an attached rubber ball snapped over the front, filling her mouth and muffling even the garbled sounds she could make around it. When she had it fully buckled, she took a deep breath through her nose. Almost there, she thought.
Emily picked up one rubber cuff, feeling its weight and strength. She had worn these many times before and, in addition to being very comfortable, they were, as far as she knew, completely inescapable – she had tried many times. She put one around her left wrist, and locked it on with a small padlock, ensuring the attached D-ring was to her back, and not away from her body. She did the same with her right hand, checking the rings, so that they could be brought together in the middle of her back. Emily stopped for a moment and stretched her hands out in front of her, locking her fingers and looking at the cuffs. Carly Simon went through her head – Anti-ci-pa-aa-tion! She picked up another lock, a larger one, and hung it from the ring on her left cuff.
Now she picked up the wooden rod with its attached eyelet and loop. This was one of her favorite toys. It allowed her to bind her elbows, like an armbinder, creating an incredible feeling of helplessness, but also something she could apply and remove herself. Over time, she had adjusted the length of the leather loop, which she now worked up over her arms until it got to just above her elbows and held them close together, almost touching. She carefully worked the loose shackle of the padlock through the eyelet and the ring on her right cuff, hooking them together with the open lock.
This was the moment. This was always the moment. The moment, and the choice. The choice to walk away. The choice to give up. The choice to fold. Or the choice to take the plunge, to remove all further choice, to soar into the sky. The moment frightened and exhilarated her in equal measure. The moment always frightened and exhilarated her. She ran over all her preparations in her mind. She twisted around as best she could to take one last look at her release, hanging in the air, mocking her, daring her. She could see, even in the dim light, that it was set up correctly. Even in the chill air, she could already see drops slowly falling from the nylon. Finally, as with all the moments before, Emily closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and made the choice, pressing the shackle home into the lock. As with all the moments before, all the choices before, the click of the lock seemed impossibly loud. Now there was no choice save one – to endure her bondage until the ice released her.
As with the moments before, Emily felt a thrill go through her whole body. This was what she craved – the helplessness, the embrace of her bonds, the comfort and ease that came from having no more choices, at least for a little while. The freedom of fantasy. The freedom of imprisonment. At first, she relaxed into her bonds, testing their comfort, to see how difficult the choice to endure them would be. In this case, her bonds, though strict and inescapable, were quite easy, as she intended. She bent her knees a bit, feeling the satisfying stretch the ropes enforced upon her. She swung her arms back and forth, the armbinder a comfortable pair of old shoes. She tried to look back at her release again and found she could turn quite far. As she looked, another drop fell from the nylon, and her ears just barely registered its impact with the small puddle already forming on the floor. She let out a deep breath. She could relax.
Then, she closed her eyes and let her fantasy take over. She had been kidnapped by slavers and displayed this way for sale to highest bidder. As she was dragged into the basement and bound to be sold as a simple commodity, she struggled against her captors. Emily groaned and tugged at her bonds, hoping (in her fantasy) that there was some flaw, some give, some way to break free. Of course, part of her fantasy was that there was no way out, and if she had left a way out (which she had done early on, in her inexperience) it would be a great disappointment. As she knew would happen, the cuffs and ropes held fast; they had no flaw, no way out. She imagined the bidders coming in and examining her dispassionately, touching and pinching her, humiliating her. She struggled further, knowing it was futile and not caring. Finally, in her fantasy, the highest bidder turned out to be an incredibly handsome man or beautiful woman, with a hard look in their eye, promising more, and more wicked, torments to come as she became their property, their slave.
Slave. Emily dearly wished to become someone’s slave. Slave to a Master or Mistress who would free her entirely from the choices, the burden of responsibility, in the way that her self-imposed bondage did but temporarily. Emily struggled and groaned again as she imagined her new owner approaching. She had been doing so for about 30 minutes when she heard, faintly, the front door open.
“Mom, I’m home!” It was Fiona’s voice coming in through the front door.
Emily immediately jerked and tugged involuntarily at her bonds, for real this time, truly hoping to tear them open. She knew that there was no way to pull free of them, but the animal instinct of escape – flight – took over.
Shit! My car is in the driveway! She’ll know I’m here!
“Em?” asked Fiona to the empty living room, loud enough to carry through the small house. “Are you here? Where the hell are you?”
Fiona walked into the kitchen, then down the hall to knock on Emily’s bedroom door. No response. The small house had few places one could be, and Fiona was rapidly exhausting them, to her consternation and concern.
“Em? Goddammit, you’re freaking me out!” she said with a worried tone.
Fiona noticed the basement door was open. Oh my god she thought, as she pulled a can of mace out of here bag. The open basement door – an unusual occurrence when they were home – immediately made her think of an intruder. She went to the basement door and peered carefully into the darkened area.
“Hello?” she said. “Look, I’m armed and I’m not going to fuck around!”
Meanwhile Emily was still frantically pulling at her bondage, hoping that there was some small flaw that would allow her to wriggle out in time to avoid complete embarrassment in front of her friend. But the ropes and cuffs were too skillfully applied. There was no way out of them until the key fell, in who knows how long a time.
Fiona slowly crept down the staircase into the gloomy basement, holding the can of mace in front of her. Nearing the bottom, still moving slowly, she shouted out “I’ve called the police! They’ll be here any minute! We’ll catch you and . . . then . . .we’ll . . .” Her voiced faded out as she saw what was really going on in the basement.
At the word “police” Emily started struggling anew, and shouting what she could through the panel gag, though that was garbled to the point of unintelligibility. No! No police! Please no police! Call them back! I can explain! Which came out as “Nungh! Noo oollee! Leeash! Noo oollee! Khaall ennhh aack! I khaa eekshlaa!”
Fiona was temporarily stunned into immobility and silence. She saw Emily – legs pulled by ropes apart to the two posts, hands and arms behind her back, and a sinister-looking mass of straps encircling her head and covering her mouth, rendering her speech a series of grunts and garbles. As Emily struggled and tried to talk, Fiona could see her hands had been cuffed together.
Emily was mortified. How could she explain? Here she was, naked and bound by her own hand, found by her friend who didn’t know anything about it. She wanted to cover herself, but of course that was impossible. Jesus, what will she think of me? She closed her eyes hard, in the impossible hope that would make it all go away.
“Em! Oh my god! what happened to you!” Fiona yelled as she ran over to her friend. “Who did this to you!” Emily, for her part, continued, futilely and frantically, to try to explain. Fiona said, “Here, I’ll take this thing off so I can understand you! Fuck! You poor thing! Jesus, are you OK?” as she worked the buckles of the head harness and pulled it off, the ball of the gag coming out with a wet sucking sound.
“I’m okay! Fi! You need to call the police back! Tell them not to come!” Emily was truly frantic, trying her best to stave off disaster. Being seen by Fiona was bad enough but explaining this to the police would be ten times worse and could get her in real trouble.
“I didn’t call them! I thought someone broke in and was trying to scare them off! What are you talking about?” Fiona asked. Emily exhaled deeply from relief.
“What the fuck are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in New York!” Emily asked, in an accusatory tone.
“Paul cancelled the trip at the last minute,” Fiona said. “Wait. What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Who did this to you?”
“Nobody, Fi,” Emily said. “Just give me my keys and I’ll explain everything to you, I promise.”
“Your keys? ” Fiona asked, incredulous. “What do you mean, your keys? Where? What happened? Who was it? What is going on here?” She appeared more confused by the moment. Her confusion was beginning to irritate Emily, who just wanted out at this point. All the fun of this fantasy had evaporated in a haze of very real fear and humiliation, and she just needed to be out of her bondage, the sooner the better.
“They’re hanging from the ceiling behind me. Could you just stop asking questions and give me my keys? Pretty please?”
Fiona looked around behind Emily and saw the keys hanging from the ceiling on their makeshift ice timer. She cocked her head and her mouth dropped open. She then looked at Emily. Stopped. Looked back at the keys. Stopped. Looked back at Emily again.
“So . . . you . . .” Fiona started.
“Yeah,” Emily said, and dropped her head a little.
“But . . . why?” Fiona asked hesitantly.
Emily was now getting really irritated. “It’s a fucking fad diet! Why do you think, FI? C’mon! Please! Jesus Christ!” She wanted out now. Fiona was right there. How hard could it be?
Fiona finally appeared to grasp the situation, furrowed her brow, and asked, “So, how long have you been doing this?”
“Are we really doing this right now, Fi? I don’t know, a couple years,” Emily replied quickly, exasperated.
“Where? In your room?” asked Fiona, calmer now.
“Well I didn’t do it at the bank! Yes, in my room. I knew you would never bother me there.”
“A couple years? So . . . the whole time we’ve been living together, huh? What if you made a mistake and couldn’t get out?”
“I always knew you were nearby or would be soon. I could count on you that way. Plus, I’ve never made a mistake.” Emily said, haughty now.
“I think this might count,” Fiona said irritably. Her expression turned hard. “So, you used me!”
“Fi, no! It’s not like that!” Emily pleaded.
“You used me, made me a backup safety plan for your little games, were going to drag me in to this without me even knowing. And you didn’t even trust me enough to tell me! How could you!” Fiona sounded hurt now.
“Fi, come on!” Emily said. “OK, so the way I did it was wrong. I’m fucking sorry, OK? I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy you dinner! Rub your feet! Do your taxes! But I need to get out, right now, so for the love of Christ can you Please. Give. Me. My. Fucking. Keys?” Emily was so flustered she nearly spit out the last words.
Fiona looked her friend in the eye. She was silent for a long moment.
“You know,” she said quietly, leaning down to the floor, “I really don’t think you are in much of a position to be making demands right now.” She stood back up with the recently discarded gag in her hand, and started moving towards Emily, raising the gag up.
“Fi! No!” shouted Emily. “I’m sorry! I didn’t meeeeeeegh aaaaahhh!” Fiona had shoved the gag back into Emily’s open mouth and began the process of fastening the various straps and buckles. Emily shook her head and protested violently, but had again been rendered speechless, if not silent, by the strict gag.
After she finished, Fiona stepped back. Emily was still shaking her head and trying to explain, to apologize, to say anything that would fix this situation. Her efforts were in vain.
Fiona crossed her arms and said, “You lied to me. You used me. You didn’t trust me. You said you never fucked up. Well, what if you did? You were going to drag me in. Worse, you could have died! I could have found you dead! And this! Do you have any idea how scared I was when I came down here? I didn’t know what I would find, and that terrified me! Jesus Christ, Em! What the ever-loving fuck were you thinking? ”
Each emphasized word hit Emily like a slap in the face. Fiona was right. If she could only get free and explain; hug her friend; do something nice; make it better. But her entreaties and struggles were as useless as before. As Fiona dressed her down, Emily’s pleas became more pitiful and pleading than demanding, as she realized that she was trapped and powerless and had made her best friend justifiably furious.
“So, Em,” Fiona said bitterly, going around behind her and taking down the keys and placing them in her pocket, “I am going to have to think about this, about us, about what to do here. And you,” she whispered, laying a finger on the tip of Emily’s nose, “are just going to have to fucking wait until I get back.” And with that, Fiona turned on her heel and confidently walked up the stairs out of the basement.
No! Please! I’ll do anything! Come back! You can’t leave me like this! Goddamn it Fi! Get back here right now! Goddammit! Fi? Hello? Pleeeeeeease? Don’t leave meeeee! Emily tried to shout after Fiona, but of course what came out was a series of increasingly pitiful, garbled nonsense.
Fiona entered the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and poured herself a glass of wine. She sat at the kitchen table and breathed “Fuck me!” before closing her eyes and taking a healthy swig of Chardonnay.
Emily continued to struggle and plead, both pointlessly, in the semi-dark of the basement. What have I done? she wondered to herself.
Fiona stood up, took a deep breath, and went down the hall to Emily’s room. She stood in front of the closed door for a moment. Neither of them had ever broken this trust before and had respected each other’s need for privacy in the small house. But Fiona needed answers; she needed direction; she needed to figure out what the fuck was going on.
She hesitated, and then turned the knob. It was unlocked. She walked into Emily’s neat bedroom with the two small dressers, an easy chair, and a huge four-poster bed. She remembered Emily buying that bed, and what a pain in the ass it was getting into the bedroom piece by piece and finally reassembling it. She thought about Emily in the basement, what she might do with such a huge, heavy piece of furniture, and thought to herself, Makes sense now.
On the bed was a suitcase with the lid closed but unzipped. Fiona walked over and flipped it open. She gasped, as she saw a truly bewildering array of bondage and sex toys. Some were obvious – vibrators, handcuffs, whips and crops, impossibly tall-heeled shoes, a corset, rope, chains, various gags. Others were less obvious, but suggestive and somewhat menacing. Some looked like clamps, small handles with wicked-looking serrated wheels on them, large metal hooks, something that could be a rubber hood. Looks like I’ve got some work to do, thought Fiona, as she walked over and sat down at Emily’s laptop. Luckily the password protection had not been engaged. Fuck, Em, can’t even do this right, thought Fiona, as she opened the internet browser to start looking at bookmarks and history. When she saw the first few pages, she let out a low whistle, and then a slow smile crept across her face.
Emily, in the basement that now seemed to grow colder, tugged at her restraints for what must have been the fiftieth time. Each time she knew that it would do nothing, but she couldn’t help it. Sometimes she would mewl pitifully. Sometimes she would scream incoherently. Once she started crying. She was initially shocked when Fi came back, then angry. Now, she was getting nervous. She was getting worried. She was getting scared. But she was also excited. She was, for the first time, well and truly in the complete control of another person, and she had to admit that it turned her on a little bit too. As much as the uncertainty made her tremble, however, she didn’t like the look Fiona gave before abandoning her who knows how long ago. It felt like at least two hours. Her legs were getting tired. Her arms were getting sore. She was drooling uncontrollably, and very thirsty. As she contemplated the nature of her predicament, tears started rolling down her cheeks again, and she closed her eyes and thought as hard as she could, as if that would get through to Fiona, Please, Fi, please. Please let me go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just let me go. And she started to sob in earnest.
Sometime later, Fiona came down the stairs to the basement, glass of wine in one hand, and Emily’s suitcase full of toys in the other, whistling idly. At the sight of her, Emily became frantic again, not even attempting to form words, just grunting and wordlessly pleading with her, while shaking around. This time, Fiona noticed how the struggling made Emily’s round breasts shake, and how the strain of having her legs pulled apart accentuated her muscles. Fiona stopped in front of Emily, dropped the suitcase on the floor, took a sip of wine, and stared intently at her friend. The look Fiona gave her stopped Emily cold. She had never seen that from Fi before, and it really scared her, especially as she saw Fiona had been drinking. Emily looked down at the glass and back into Fiona’s eyes, her own wide with fear.
“Relax, shithead, I’m not drunk,” Fiona said. “This is the only glass of wine I’ve had for the past two hours.” Emily gasped. “Yes, that’s how long I’ve been upstairs. Bet it seemed a lot longer to you. That’s one thing I’ve learned about this – time seems to stand still or go really slow. And believe me, I have learned a lot in the last two hours.”
Emily attempted to shrink back, unsuccessfully. Fiona set down the glass of wine and cupped Emily’s chin, looking her directly in the eyes. “This scene is really fucked up. But it’s fascinating, too. Wow, there is a lot of stuff to learn about! Cuffs, safeties, teasing, denial, clover clamps,” Emily winced at the mention of clamps, and Fiona took note, “armbinders, ice-timer releases, sub-space, you name it. Of course, I’ve only started to scratch the surface.” Fiona lazily laid her fingertip on Emily’s collarbone, and slowly traced a line down between her breasts, ending just above her pussy. Emily shivered at her touch.
“One thing I figured out, though,” said Fiona, “is that this,” she waved her hands over Emily’s bound form, “is pretty mild for you. Yes, I read a lot of stuff on your computer, including your diary. This must have just been a warm-up, just a fun little diversion to rev you up for the big stuff later. Am I right?”
Emily nodded, shaking now, afraid of upsetting Fiona further. What was she going to do? She had already been here for hours. She needed out! She started to attempt to talk again.
“Shhhh,” Fiona said, putting a finger on the panel covering Emily’s mouth. “Well, now that you are ‘warmed up’, so to speak, I think we can dive deeper, get more serious, fuck some shit up. What do you think?”
Emily frantically shook her head. “Unh unh! Unh unh! Unh unh!” she repeated, unwilling to believe that her situation was about to, if possible, get worse.
Fiona clicked her tongue. “Oh, come on. Don’t sell yourself short!” she said with mock cheerfulness. “You can do it! I believe in you! So, where do we start?” She walked over to the suitcase and unzipped the lid, flipping it open.
“You have a lot of cool stuff. This shit can’t be cheap,” Fiona said, pulling out a pair of black hinged handcuffs. “Quality shit. Professional.” She looked Emily up and down. “I think we should start . . . here,” and with that, Fiona rubbed her hand up and down Emily’s shaved pussy. Fiona’s touch was electric to Emily. Fiona could feel the moisture. “Looks like you’re ready for it, too! See, I knew you were ready! I saw all the toys in that bag, and I think we could benefit by getting some of them out – see how they work.” Emily whined. Fiona reached into the suitcase and came out with a large vibrating dildo; one Emily knew well. It ran on batteries and would go for hours. It had a small nub that rested over her clit and could drive her insane. She shook her head violently.
“Oh, Em, take it easy” said Fiona with mock concern. “You know, one of the hottest things I read in those stories of yours was the idea of teasing and denial.” At this, Emily squealed. Please don’t! she tried to say. Fiona rubbed the large dildo over Emily’s pussy lips and pulled it back. “Your eyes say ‘no’ but your cunt says ‘yes’.” She slowly pushed it into Emily’s pussy, with Emily groaning deeply the whole way. She finally got it all the way in, with the small nub resting on Emily’s clit. Emily was now panting wildly.
“Hold still,” Fiona said, reaching into the suitcase once again, coming back with a piece of rope. She ran the rope around Emily’s waist, then between her legs from the front to the back, trapping the vibrator inside Emily. Bringing the rope back through, she pulled it extra hard, seating the vibrator deep inside Emily before tying the rope off, ensuring it would stay there for the foreseeable future. She reached down and flicked a switch, and the vibrator sprang to life, though only on “low”. Emily closed her eyes and moaned low. She knew from experience that this setting would keep her on the edge of orgasm for a long time. She whimpered.
“That’s right, shithead,” said Fiona. “That’s going to stay like that for a while. Should get you nice and horny by the time we start our next game. Now, what next?” Fiona began rummaging through the suitcase.
She came back with a simple piece of white rope. She passed it through the lock holding Emily’s cuffs together, then threw the ends over one of the joists directly above Emily’s head. She grabbed the dangling rope and slowly began to pull. Soon enough, the slack took up and the rope started to pull Emily’s arms back and up, forcing her to lean forward to take the strain off her shoulders. She moaned and protested, but Fiona did not stop until Emily’s upper body was bent at nearly a 90-degree angle to her legs. Fiona tied off the rope, holding Emily in position.
“There we go!” said Fiona. “Now we’re getting somewhere!” She gently patted Emily’s ass. Emily, startled, gave a small jump. “How we doing so far?” Fiona leaned over to look at Emily’s face. Emily looked back and tried to beg with her eyes to be let go. The vibrator was already starting to cloud her mind with desire.
“What next? What next? What next?” pondered Fiona. She snapped her fingers and went to the other side of the basement, behind Emily. She came back with one of their 15-pound dumbbells and set it on the floor right under Emily’s face. Further rummaging in the suitcase, which Emily could not now see, yielded Fiona a pair of clover clamps connected by a chain. She dangled them in front of Emily’s face. “These,” said Fiona, “are fucking amazing. I tried them on for a few seconds myself and gave them a good tug. Holy shit! These little fuckers are not going to come off easy. And we’ll make sure it ain’t easy.”
Fiona sat cross-legged on the floor underneath Emily’s now-bent torso, looking up at her breasts. Emily was frantic. She was whining and panting fast now. She knew what was coming, and she didn’t know if she could take it. Of course, the decision – the choice – was not hers to make. That was what she liked about the clamps. She hated the feeling – the pain on her sensitive nipples became almost unbearable very quickly. But once they were on and she was bound, she was forced to endure them until the end of whatever session she was in. They magnified the feeling of powerlessness ten-fold. And now, she would have to endure them until Fiona decided otherwise.
Fiona lightly pinched Emily’s nipples between the fingers of each hand, gently rolling them left and right, eliciting a deep moan from Emily, who felt the stimulation go through her like a jolt to her already-stimulated pussy. Fiona looked her roommate in the eye and said, “You know, Em? You really do have great tits.” And with that, she opened the clamps and let the jaws grab, then bite, then pull Emily’s tender nipples. She screamed into the gag and rolled her head back, shaking violently, but the clamps held. When she slowed down, Fiona put her finger on the chain connecting the vicious clamps and slowly pulled her finger down. Emily let out a high-pitched whine as her breasts were pulled down, but even though she felt like they would be pulled off, the clamps held.
“Wow,” Fiona said. “That was incredible. Do you have any idea how fucking hot you looked when I did that?” Emily, surprised, looked at her friend. The haze of pain and pleasure was making it difficult to think, but Emily was sure that was the first time Fiona had said anything like that to her and meant it.
“Wait, it gets better,” Fiona said. She playfully batted the chain connecting the clamps, then pulled out a medium-length, very light-duty spring. She looped the spring over the chain, adding just a tiny bit of weight to the clamps, but still enough for Emily to notice and wince. Fiona then pulled out a piece of rope and ran it through the ring at the top of Emily’s head harness. Fiona pulled Emily’s head down with the rope, then fed the rope underneath the dumbbell. She then brought the rope up to the light spring, tugged it down just a bit, and tied off the rope on the end of the spring. The top of Emily’s head was now attached to the chain connecting her clamps, and any raising of her head would produce a painful pull on the clamps, while the light spring ensured that there was never enough pull to yank the clamps off and give Emily any relief. She concentrated on remaining still.
“There we go,” said Fiona. “I believe that is what your stories call ‘predicament’ bondage. Gotta say, looks like a tough one. But you’re experienced, right? Been doing this for years? Never made a mistake? Might happen, but ol’ Fi is right there just in case, right? Why tell her about it? You can handle it! Walk in the park! Why worry about Fi?” Emily could hear that Fiona had not let go of the betrayal she felt. She was really worried now. That was the kind of voice of people who do crazy shit. Emily tried once again to mumble an apology, and once again knew it would have no effect.
“Shut the fuck up,” said Fiona flatly. “We’ve got one more thing to do before I go.” One more time, Fiona went to the suitcase. She waved the fruit of her search in front of Emily’s now-rigid head – a riding crop. Emily started whining again, trying anything she could think of to get Fiona to put the wicked punishment tool away without using it.
“Oh no,” Fiona whispered. “We’re doing this. You have no idea how much you hurt me. So, I think it’s only fair that I get to hurt you back. What do you think? Or I could walk out of here forever, maybe still call the cops and tell them what you’ve been doing here. The folks at the bank, too. Maybe take some pictures. So, what will it be, whip or walk?”
Emily closed her eyes. She had to admit that she had betrayed Fiona, let her down, and hated herself for it. If this made it up to Fiona, she would have to try. She opened her eyes, looked at Fiona as best she could, and said “Whiigh.”
“I thought so,” said Fiona. “You know, I bet there’s a part of you that’s actually looking forward to this – that wants to get whipped. You’re stuck here. I mean really fucking stuck – no way to get out. No control over your situation. Totally at the mercy of another person – and one you’ve just completely pissed off at that. And,” she reached down again between Emily’s legs, “that seems to really, really turn you on. You don’t have to answer. We’ll just get started. Here’s the deal. You get 30 lashes,” Emily started and gave a small yelp. “You count them. Forget to count one, it don’t count. And say ‘Mistress’ after each one. Let’s practice. Say ‘One, mistress, two mistress, three mistress’.”
Emily said “Unh, nghishress, dhooo, nghishress, dhree, nghishress.” For some reason, calling Fiona “Mistress” had a delicious taste.
“Perfect,” said Fiona. “And one more thing,” with this Fiona leaned down so that she was close to Emily’s left ear, then whispered with surprising venom, “For the first ten, other than that count, I don’t want you to make a fucking sound. Whimper, yelp, scream, plead, beg, I’ll start over again. The least you can do is sit there and take ten with some dignity for me. And we are going to a count of thirty. It’s up to you how many we have to do before we start counting. After that,” Fiona said cheerfully, giving Emily a playful pat on the ass, “scream away! I’ll bet it’ll do you some good. Get those endorphins flowing or whatever.”
Emily was shaking uncontrollably now. Fiona’s rapid shifts in emotion worried her. She had no idea when or how hard, Fiona would start whipping her. She concentrated on staying still, steeling herself for the first blow.
Fiona swung the crop quickly in front of Emily’s face, surprising her. She let out a small scream, then moaned as she realized what she had done, and how unprepared she had been.
“Not even one and you’re already fucking it up!” Fiona yelled. In a calmer tone, she continued, “Tell you what. I’ll be a good sport. The first one I’ll let you know right before it comes, so you can be ready for it.”
“Alright,” Fiona said. “Here we go.” Emily scrunched her eyes closed. “Get ready.” Emily breathed in. “Get set.” She breathed out, thinking if there were no air in her lungs, she couldn’t scream. “Go!” Fiona brought the crop down fast and hard right across both cheeks of Emily’s ass. It felt like a line of fire. Emily’s eyes popped open, and she took a great, heaving breath, but made no other sound. She started to shake.
Emily held the breath for a moment, then very slowly, through the gag, said “Unh, nghishress.”
Fiona got down on her knees and looked up at Emily, differently this time. “Em,” she said, “that was fucking beautiful.” She got back up. Emily closed her eyes.
“Well, that seemed to work pretty well, so for the next nine I’ll give you a fighting chance, even though I don’t owe you one. Get ready.” Breathe in. “Get set.” Breathe out. “Go!” This time on the right cheek. Breathe. Wait. “Dhoo, nghishress.”
“Get ready.” Breathe in. “Get set.” Breathe out. “Go!” Other cheek. Breathe, Wait. “Dhree, nghishress.”
“Get ready.” Breathe in. “Get set.” Breathe out. “Go!” Back across both this time. Oh god! I can’t! It’s splitting me open! But I did three! And Fi thinks it’s beautiful! I can do it for her! I have to do it for her! I want to do it for her. Jesus, I hope I can. Breathe. Wait. “Orr, nghishress.”
“OK, going for one of the tits this time.” Emily was shocked but remembered to not make a sound. “Get ready. Get Set. Go!” Fiona brought the crop down hard on the side of Emily’s right breast. She jerked her head, causing more pain to shoot through her breasts, but remained silent, until “iive, nghishress.”
As impossible as it seemed a short while ago, Emily made it to ten without any sound other than counting for her new mistress.
“Alright, Em!” Fiona cheered her. “Great job! I knew you had it in you! That was pretty fucking amazing! Well,” Fiona said, swinging the crop past her face, making a swishing sound. “They’re going to come pretty fast and furious now, just remember to count. Here we go!”
Fiona immediately brought the crop down hard on Emily’s lower thighs. “AAAAAAHHHHH! Elehh-ennhh, nghishress.” It felt good to Emily to be able to scream. It felt – freeing, somehow.
Next on the front of her legs. “AAAAGGGHHH! AAAAGGGHHH! Dhellgh, nghishress!” She was shouting the number now, her voice raw with emotion and adrenalin. The vibrator kept up its relentless teasing.
Three in a row, in the same place, on the right cheek of her ass. God that hurts! “OOOOO! OOOOO! OOOOO! Irrgh-eengh, nghishress! Orrgh-eengh, nghishress! Ikhh-eengh, nghishress!” It hurts so much, and I want to come so bad! Please let me come at least! I’ll take as many as you want if you let me come!
She didn’t forget to count properly until 18, when she forgot the “Mistress.” Fiona said, “Ooh, you were doing so well. Seventeen it is. Try to keep up.” Emily began sobbing, but through it managed to count the 18th (19th) correctly. When she forgot to count 26, 27 and 28 (Fiona gave her five in a row, and she couldn’t honestly remember how many there were through the haze of pain and pleasure, so she just said “ennh-ee-orr, nghishress, ennh-ee-iive, nghishress” and stopped) she let out a wail that Fiona was sure must have been heard around the block.
Finally, Fiona gave Emily a gentle tap on the ass with the crop, then looked at her and said, “Well?”
Emily got the idea and said “hirrh-hee, nghishress,” and then started taking great, heaving breaths, slumping in her bonds.
“Good girl!” said Fiona, patting her on the head, which somehow was more humiliating than anything else up to this point. “You were amazing, sweetie! Now be honest with me, and I’m not fucking around. That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”
Emily looked up as best she could to meet her friend’s eyes. Her first instinct was to loudly deny such a thing. Then the vibrator reminded her of its presence, and how bad she wanted to come. The fire from the whipping was still burning through her. It created such an incredible tension, and Emily knew that the release of that tension (god she hoped there would be a release!) would be glorious. The whipping and the clamps only served to increase that tension, playing pain off pleasure, forcing her, allowing her, to let go completely and let out all her animal instincts, screaming and thrashing, without responsibility or care. Emily closed her eyes, nodded, and quietly said “Unh hunh.”
Fiona looked serious for a moment. “Hey, Em.” She hesitated, seeming unsure how to continue. “I think I get it. I think . . . I think I understand . . . all this. That was incredible. You really were amazing. I can’t imagine what all that must feel like. How overwhelming it is. What a rush it must be! It must be hard to need this so badly and think that no one will understand you, or look at you like a freak, or break off a relationship with you, like . . . if you had a good friend and roommate who you really loved, but were afraid of losing.”
Yes! Yes! Yes, Fi! That’s it! That’s exactly it! That’s why I didn’t tell you. I know people think it’s weird or creepy and they’ve left me before! You do understand! Now let me out, please! We’ll fix all of it! Emily thought.
Which came out as “Yesh! Yesh! Yesh! Agh’s iikh! Leeash leh ee ough!”
“Oh no, no, no, not yet, young lady,” Fiona said, recovering her stern demeanor. “We still have a lot to do. First, I have some things to take care of, but I’ll give you the choice right now. Do you want to leave the clamps on, or take them off for a little while?”
Emily was so excited by the possibility of getting rid of the hated clamps she really didn’t listen to Fiona, and just said “Ogh! Ogh! Langhs ogh! Leeash!”
“So, if my reading was correct, I’m not supposed to just grab the chain and yank,” Fiona said.
“Unh unh! Unh unh! Unh unh!” Emily garbled, terrorized by the idea of yanking off the clover clamps – feeling them pull and squeeze harder and harder with every fraction of an inch.
“Just kidding, moron,” Fiona said playfully. “I did read, however, that they can hurt a lot more coming off than they do going on. Well, ready or not, here we go!” And with that Fiona reached down and opened both clamps at the same time and let them drop to the floor. Emily let out a high-pitched wail that went on for several seconds, then took a deep breath, and squealed some more. The pain as blood rushed back into one of the tenderest, most sensitive parts of her body was off the charts, not to mention how it mingled with the still-teasing vibrator’s ministrations. That was why she hated clamps. And, again, why the tension and anticipation they created was so incredible. After another breath and another wail, Emily sagged.
“That was . . . intense,” said Fiona, untying the cord from Emily’s harness. “I gotta say, I didn’t think it would be that bad. I thought you would thank me.”
“Uckh ooh,” said Emily.
“Was that a ‘thank you’ or a ‘fuck you’?” asked Fiona.
“UCKH! OOH!” Emily said louder and slower this time, making her meaning clear even through the panel gag.
“Getting feisty again!” Fiona said. “Well, if you’re going to be ungrateful about it, I could just put them back.” Fiona reached down to pick them up, opening the jaws and waving them menacingly in front of Emily’s face.
“Nooooo! No! Leeash, nghishress! I’nh shorree! Leeash! No langhs!” She shook her head violently.
“That’s better, slave,” said Fiona, seeming to savor the final word. Emily savored it as well. Then Fiona said, “Let’s take care of this, too,” as she reached between Emily’s legs and thumbed the switch on the vibrator, turning it off. She then pushed the rope aside and pulled Emily’s tormentor out, setting it on the floor.
Emily let out a pitiful whine. Please just let me come! It would all be worth it if I could come! Goddamn it, give it to me! she thought. Then she decided to try and play on the new dynamic in her and Fiona’s relationship, to see if she could get something she wanted – that she desperately needed.
“Nghishress? Leeash, nghishress?” she said in a pleading tone, slowly, hoping she could be clear to Fiona. “Ngay hoor shlaave hee allowegh khoo kungh?”
“’May your slave be allowed to come?’” asked Fiona incredulously. “You are laying it on thick! Jesus, Em, sometimes I worry about you. And the answer is ‘no’. You may not be allowed to come. What the fuck do you think? You’ve got a ways to go yet before you earn an orgasm. And earn it you will. Now, I need to go do some stuff before we continue. You hold down the fort,” she said as she patted Emily on the head. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Noooo! No! Dhon’ leeagh nghee!” Emily struggled in her bonds. As bad as it had been, being left alone, not knowing what was happening, was even worse. And to add to Emily’s misery and fear, as Fiona reached the top of the stairs, she flicked out the light, leaving Emily in total darkness.
Fiona left the basement door open, so Emily could hear some of what was happening upstairs. She heard the front door slam as Fiona went out. Where is she going? She can’t leave me here alone! Fi, come back! What if something happens to you and I am stuck here forever! She then heard a car rev its engine loudly and then get softer, as if it was pulling away. Fi, no! Don’t leave me here! Then she started quietly crying.
Fiona had not actually driven away. She only had to get her suitcase from the car, where it had been forgotten since the beginning of this little adventure. She had stomped to the front door, and after going through, slammed it hard so Emily could hear. She then started her car, and revved it loud, letting it die down to give the impression of dying away. She then turned off the car, and quietly tiptoed back into the house, taking care to make no noise this time with the front door. She knew that someone could hear loud noises from the basement, but not quiet ones. Fiona slipped her shoes off to make less noise, and gently walked in her blue ankle socks to the basement door. She went down a few steps before she heard Emily crying. Fiona felt bad for her, and almost went then and there to let her out, but she thought, She’s got some more making up to do. But that goes a long way. Fiona quietly crept back up the stairs and into the kitchen, where she poured herself another glass of wine. She sat down on the couch, took a sip, and began to thumb through a magazine. Finally, after some thought, she picked up her phone and called the office.
“Hey Paul, it’s Fiona. I’ve got a big favor I have to ask you, and after screwing me on the New York trip, I think you owe me . . .”
Emily had no idea how long Fiona was gone. She was terrified and turned on at the same time. She was, for the first time, truly not in control of anything – subject to another’s whims. With the lights out, time seemed to slow even more. Emily’s thoughts were running a mile a minute. Jesus fucking Christ, how the hell did this happen? What a shitshow! What a ride! What a rush! This is so scary, but Fiona was right – it’s what I wanted all along. It is amazing. It is beautiful. It is a major turn-on. I want to please Fiona more than anything right now. And not just so she’ll let me come – although holy shit do I want that bad. I almost lost my mind a couple times. But she understands now, or at least is starting to, and is willing to continue. That is an amazing gift, and I want to give it back to her. If only she’d come back! It’s so dark! Emily shivered, and not just from the damp chill of the basement. Please come back, Fi! Please come back! The tears began anew.
Fiona waited about 30 minutes, finishing her wine in a leisurely fashion. She knew it would feel a lot longer to Emily, and she was eager to get on with the next, and final phase. She got butterflies in her stomach thinking about it, but the fear mixed with adrenalin, and general horniness, to convince her that this was a good decision, and would be exciting and thrilling, like a great roller coaster. She had watched Emily through the last few hours, and was excited, moved, touched, and genuinely turned on like she never had been before. She couldn’t wait a bit longer. She went to the kitchen and filled a workout bottle with cold water and then walked to the basement, the wine giving her a little extra courage.
Fiona went to the top of the stairs and flicked the light in the basement on. She padded down the stairs to stand in front of a startled, terrified Emily.
“Nghishress! Nghishress! Nghishress!” Emily cried through her gag. “Leeash donh lee ngee againh!” Tears were coming down her cheeks and she was shaking more now.
“Calm the fuck down!” said Fiona. “I didn’t go anywhere! Just wanted to put a little fear of God – or fear of Me – into you.”
“Now, we got some things to discuss. I am going to take this thing out,” touched the gag, “but I want you to understand this. You answer my questions, and only answer my questions, directly, without any other crap, or this,” she tapped the panel of the gag, “goes right back in again. I am not in the mood to fuck around. Clear?”
“Yesh, Nghishress,” said Emily simply.
“OK, here we go,” said Fiona as she started to unbuckle the straps. The gag fell away into her hand and she set it aside. Emily waited quietly with her eyes lowered.
“When was the last time you drank any water?” Fiona asked.
“Last night before bed, Mistress,” Emily answered.
“Bet you’re pretty thirsty, then,” Fiona said.
“Yes, Mistress, very thirsty,” Emily said.
“Let’s cut the ‘Mistress’ shit, Em. It’s starting to creep me out,” Fiona said.
“Ok – Fi,” Emily said, with a hint of a smile. Maybe it will all be OK.
“Alright, drink this, before I decide to stop being so nice to you,” Fiona said, holding the straw of the bottle to Emily’s lips.
Emily sipped deeply, savoring the water’s coolness and feeling refreshed. She stopped, and Fiona set the bottle aside. Emily opened her mouth to thank Fiona, then thought for a second, stopped, and closed her mouth again, remembering Fiona’s rule.
Fiona observed Emily’s restraint, and said simply, “Impressive. Let’s get you down so we can talk.”
“No, you don’t need to,” Emily said, eliciting a look of surprise from Fiona. “Staying like this feels . . . right, somehow. Part of making it up to you. I’m OK.”
Fiona shook her head, let out a breath, settled herself on the floor, cross-legged, in front of Emily, and looked her in the eye.
“OK, you said you have been doing this for a couple of years. Why?” Fiona asked.
Emily took a breath. “It feels good, Fi. It’s why people do any kind of crazy sex shit.”
“Seems kinda boring, though,” Fiona said. “So, what, you just tie yourself up and sit there for hours?”
“It’s more than that,” Emily said. “It’s freeing, actually.”
“Ironic,” said Fiona.
“I mean it’s freeing from responsibility. Once that last lock clicks shut, there is nothing you can do but be there in the moment. You don’t have to do anything. The only choice you have is to stay there and experience it. And when it’s done right, you do enjoy it.”
“What do you mean?” Fiona asked.
“When you are tied down tight, struggling against the ropes or chains, and you come while pulling against it – it’s an incredible feeling. You can let all your energy out and not worry about controlling it, because it is controlled for you.” Emily eye’s glazed over as she thought about it. “And then you add fantasizing about your captor, it’s pretty intense and mind-bending.”
“Who do you fantasize about?” asked Fiona intently.
“Lots of people,” Emily said.
“Women?” asked Fiona, this time as if seeking a particular answer.
“Yes, and men,” answered Emily.
“Like who?” asked Fiona.
“Well, like Jill from the bank,” said Emily. “She’s gorgeous, and it’s fun to think about fucking her, but she’s also a real hardass, so it’s easy to imagine her as a cruel mistress.”
“I remember her from the Christmas party where I was your plus-one,” said Fiona. “She was a bitch.”
“A perfect Mistress,” said Emily. They both laughed.
“Well,” said Fiona, “I have to say this is just about the most fucked-up conversation I’ve ever had in my life. So, any women like – me?”
“No, Fi, never you,” Emily said. Fiona looked crestfallen. “Wait, let me explain! I could never fantasize about you for the same reason I could never tell you. You’re my best friend and I didn’t want to lose you. It didn’t feel right to . . . involve you that way. It just felt wrong. I’m so sorry, Fi.”
“Jesus, Em,” Fiona said as she gently stroked Emily’s cheek. “I’m sorry too.”
“It’s not your fault, Fi,” Emily said.
“Well, maybe a little bit,” said Fiona, “but you’re right, it’s mostly your fault.” The side of Fiona’s mouth twisted up the slightest bit. “So, you had your little games going and then big dumb Fiona had to stumble right into the middle of it. I’ll bet that pissed you off.”
“I was fucking furious!” Emily said. “I was supposed to have the house to myself for four whole days, and you had to come in and ruin it and scare the shit out of me by saying you called the fucking police! Goddamn right I was pissed off! Not for long though. That changed pretty quickly.”
“What?” asked Fiona.
“When you yelled at me – and you were right to do it! – I was sad that I had hurt you. Then, after that, I was really scared. This was new to you, you were angry, I didn’t know what you were going to do, and I was completely helpless. Way beyond the fantasy.”
“I’m sorry I made you so scared that whole time,” Fiona said. “That was my fault.”
“I wasn’t scared the whole time, Fi,” said Emily. “After a little bit, it became pretty amazing. Better, in fact, than the fantasy.”
“Yeah? When did that happen?” Fiona asked.
Emily locked eyes with her friend. Without breaking that contact, she said simply, “When you said I was beautiful.” There were tears in her eyes.
Fiona’s eyes became moist as well. “You were. You are.”
Emily continued, heedless at this point of Fiona’s directive to only answer questions, everything coming out in a tumble through tears. “You said I was beautiful, and that I could do it for you, and you were right! I owed you that for what I did. And then I did it! It was a rush! I wasn’t trapped, I was flying. It was incredible. I’ve never, ever felt anything like it. And then you said that’s what I wanted all along, and you were right! You said you understand. Nobody has ever said that to me before. I’ve never been able to be . . . this” she nodded, indicating her current situation, “with anyone before. I’ve been alone with this forever. Your understanding made all the difference. So, this conversation isn’t weird, even though I’m hung up like a side of beef. I don’t feel trapped. I don’t feel scared. I don’t feel hurt. I feel . . . right. With you.”
Fiona sat quietly for a moment. “I can’t say that I understand all of it. But I promise you one thing, Em. I promise I’m going to keep trying, and I will never leave you alone.”
“That’s two things, dipshit,” Emily said, as they both laughed.
Then Fiona rose up on her knees, placing herself face to face with Emily. She reached up and laid her hands gently on either side of Emily’s face, leaned in, and kissed her. Emily returned the kiss hungrily. Fiona stayed for a long moment, and then, slowly, started to pull away. Emily stretched as best she could to maintain the kiss, hoping it would last forever, but eventually their lips parted, and Emily let out a small whine of frustration, continuing to reach futilely for Fiona. Fiona sat back and looked coolly at Emily.
“Wow,” said Emily. “You’re getting really good at this.”
“Fuckin’ A,” said Fiona. “So, you said you owed me. Damn straight. Think we’re even yet?”
“I don’t think that’s for me to say, Fi,” said Emily simply. “That’s your call.”
“I’ve been thinking about it. I think right now I would say ‘almost’,” Fiona replied. “So, we’ll even it up. In fact, what we’re going to do next will more than even it up.” At this, Emily’s eyes went wide. “But probably only by a little bit. Even so, because of that I’m going to give you some presents. I hope you like them. I’m pretty sure you will.”
“Christ, please fucking let me come!” said Emily. The burning from the crop had subsided to a warmth that made her all the more desperate.
“If you’re lucky, that’s probably in the cards. Poor baby. You haven’t come all day, have you?” asked Fiona with mock concern.
“All fucking week, Fi!” said Emily.
“Damn,” said Fiona, surprised. “So, it must be pretty bad, huh?”
“You have no fucking idea, Fi,” Emily said breathlessly. “To make this weekend more . . . memorable, I’ve been bringing myself to the edge every night and then backing off. I could hardly concentrate at work by Tuesday. And then you had to go tease me with that fucking vibrator while fulfilling my deepest fantasies! I’ve never gone this far before! Please, please, please, Fi, let one of my presents be an orgasm!”
“Shit. I’m surprised you can form a complete sentence. Tell you what, I’ll think about it,” said Fiona, enjoying Emily’s frustration.
“Would it help if I call you ‘Mistress’?” asked Emily desperately.
“Definitely not,” said Fiona with disgust. “In fact, if you do, I definitely will not let you come for the next two days.”
“OK! Jesus, Fi! Calm down!”
“Alright, let’s get started with ‘Phase Two’,” said Fiona, rubbing her hands together briskly.
“What do you mean, Fi?” asked Emily, concerned and excited at the same time.
“Not anything too crazy-ass,” said Fiona, “but we will have to practice a bit, and you will have to trust me.”
Emily replied without any hesitation, “I trust you, Fi.”
“Thanks,” said Fiona. “OK,” she continued, picking the gag up from the ground, “First this guy needs to go back in.” She brought it up to Emily’s head in preparation.
“Wait!” said Emily, with a hint of desperation in her voice.
“What?” replied Fiona with mock irritation.
Emily looked Fiona in the eye. “I love you, Fi.”
Fiona stood still for a long moment. Then she took a deep breath and said, “I love you to, Em. You know, I think this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“No,” Emily said, “not the beginning, Fi,” and closed her eyes and opened her mouth to accept the gag.
“Yeah,” said Fiona simply, gently smoothing Emily’s hair several times before slipping the harness over her head and snugging up the straps. “There, how is that?” she asked Emily. Emily responded with a thumbs-up from her bound hands.
“Alright,” said Fiona, “here we go. I have to get a few things upstairs. I promise I won’t leave the house, and I’ll be back in a few minutes. OK?”
“Oh-khaay,” said Emily, again reduced to mumbles by the gag. Fiona went up the stairs to the kitchen.
Several minutes later she returned with some things filling her hands that she laid carefully on the nearby stool. She had brought a set of hinged handcuffs, several lengths of chain, a ball gag, Emily’s rubber hood, a blindfold, two more vibrators, some thin sticks and small rubber bands, a carabiner, a selection of locks, some string, a roll of duct tape, a piece of paper and a marker and Emily’s length of nylon from her release mechanism.
Fiona worked quietly but quickly, pulling the keys to Emily’s locks from her pocket and tying them to a length of string.
“OK, I’m going to set up an ice release for you, and I need to get it right, or we will both be fucked,” said Fiona. “To make sure I get it right, I’m going to consult an expert. Someone with experience. Someone who has done this for years. Someone who has never made a mistake.”
“Uckh ooh,” Fiona could hear the grin in Emily’s voice
“Well, look who’s getting an attitude!” cried Fiona. “You know, Em, you probably don’t want to piss me off right now,” she leaned down and looked Emily in the eye. “Or, maybe you do. Hard to tell.” Emily continued smiling.
“OK, Em,” said Fiona, all business now. “I will describe what I’m doing in detail and you let me know if I’ve fucked anything up, cool?”
Emily replied with a short “Yesh.”
“Fine. I’ve put a loop in both ends of this string. I’ve put some duct tape around the knots, so they don’t come loose. I’m pulling the loop through the keychain I took from you, along with the small wrench you had. Now I’m tossing the other end of the string over the beam over your head and pulling the keys through the loop. I’m tugging hard on the string and it seems strong. Sound good?”
Emily replied with a thumbs up.
“Right. Now I’m pulling the string up high to a beam farther behind you. I’m going to let it go, and you grab the key and unlock your hands.”
“Unnh?” asked Emily.
“Don’t worry, you’re not getting out yet. I need to make sure you can open your lock OK. Here we go!” with that, Fiona dropped the string and, as she had measured, the keys fell directly to Emily’s hands. Emily grabbed the key easily and then fumbled for a moment before slotting the key into the lock and turning it, clicking it open.
Fiona immediately closed it again and grabbed the key. “Great job, Em! I’m so proud of you!” Fiona came around and looked ant Emily with a cheesy grin. Emily rolled her eyes.
Fiona continued, “Now, I’m going to attach the nylon and pull it through the ring hanging up back here. I’ve pulled it through and am letting it go. Did it fall to where you can grab it?” Emily gave another thumbs-up.
“Good,” said Fiona. “Let’s do that two more times to be sure.” She repeated the procedure, and each time Emily successfully grabbed the key. Fiona then clipped the keys to the D-ring with the carabiner.
“So,” said Fiona, “I’ve set up an ice release and it looks like if I put an ice cube in there, the whole thing will work right and you can grab the key and unlock yourself, right?”
“Yesh?” Emily said, with confusion in her voice. “Fhii? Whaa’s uhh?”
“I have to set up an ice release for you, because when I’m done with your other ‘present’, I won’t be able to unlock you. I’m going to tie myself up and give you the keys.”
“Fhii! No!” shouted Emily.
“Yes, Em,” said Fiona. “You remember I was an education major? Well, I’m all about ‘experiential learning.’ You need to experience something to understand it. I’ve experienced this from one side, now I have to experience from the other. It’s important to me to understand for you, Em. Just let me know, are we solid here? Did I fuck it up? Will this work?’
“It’sh ghoodh, Fhii,” said Emily.
“Right, so on to the next bit,” said Fiona. She picked up one of the vibrators. She went around be Emily and said, “Ready?” Emily gave an emphatic thumbs-up. Fiona gently pulled aside the rope still around Emily’s waist and slid in the vibrator. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were ready, you filthy slut!”
This time, Emily’s gesture was a middle finger instead of a thumb.
“This is one of yours that is remote control and has a ‘random’ function,” said Fiona. “I think that after I turn it on, this baby will give you more than one orgasm. What do you think?”
Emily said, “Yesh! Yesh! Yesh! Turhh ihh onnh!”
“Good things come to those who wait,” Fiona said. “We still have a lot to do. This is next.”
With that, Fiona came around in front of Emily and sat on the floor. She removed her socks and tossed them aside. Next, she very slowly unbuttoned the blouse she had been wearing when she left that morning, languorously pulling it open to reveal a lacy bra, through which her dark nipples could just be seen. She pulled off the blouse and tossed it with her socks. She then reached around her back and undid the clasp on her bra with one hand while the other held it to her breasts as the strap fell. She removed the hand in front, letting the bra fall away, revealing her large breasts with nipples rapidly stiffening in the clammy air. Emily was rapt with attention.
“Like what you see?” asked Fiona playfully. “Wait, there’s more.”
Fiona stood and undid the button and zipper on her jeans. Another slow removal of this article of clothing followed, accompanied by many twists and shakes of her hips. Finally, she got the jeans to the floor, stood up, and kicked them to the side with her other clothing, leaving her wearing just brief panties. Emily stared rapturously at Fiona’s curves, her flawless brown skin, her breast lifting and dropping with each breath.
“Ohh, Fhii!” breathed Emily.
“Do I look hot?” asked Fiona sarcastically.
“Unh hunh!” replied Emily seriously.
“Last one,” said Fiona. She then hooked her thumbs into the waist of her panties and, even more slowly, started to slide them down her waist, then her legs. When they reached the floor, she flicked them away with a toe, leaving her completely naked. She ran her hands up and down her body slowly.
“That was fun,” said Fiona. “And the look on your face was priceless. So, next, I have to finish a few small details and get myself ready. I have to ask you again, does your release look good?”
“Yesh, Fhii,” replied Emily.
“So, we can say there is a, what, 97 percent chance it will work?” asked Fiona.
“Yesh, Fhii, why?” Emily was now confused.
“Because I am going to cover that three percent,” said Fiona. “I set up a safety person.”
“No! No! Fhii! No!” yelled Emily. She had no idea Fiona was bringing in a third person to their situation.
“Em, just listen for a minute, OK?” Fiona said. “I called Paul from work. He is a really good guy. The kind of guy who helps old ladies across the street and gets cats out of trees. I told him he owed me, and he could pay me back by coming over tomorrow to help me move a dresser. I said a guy bought it on Craigslist and I hinted that I also wanted him to come to keep me safe from this guy. Paul was totally on board. I told him to come over tomorrow at 11:30, and if nobody answered the door, he should just come in. We’re good friends, and he used to do that when I lived alone, so it wasn’t even weird. When we get out well before tomorrow, I’ll just call him and tell him the guy flaked out and changed his mind. Case closed.”
“Fhii, Fhii,” said Emily, still worried.
“Now I’m going to write a note to him and put it on the coffee table where he will definitely see it when he comes in. Here we go:” Fiona picked up the paper and marker.
“Paul, if you are reading this, I am really in trouble. I need you to finish reading this note before you do anything else. I have done something crazy, and I am stuck. I am with my friend Emily, and she is in trouble too. What we have done is dumb, and I am sorry for dragging you into it. You are a good friend, and I know I can count on you. I will do anything to pay you back for this help. We are in the basement. When you come downstairs you will figure out what is happening really fast. You will probably judge us, and you will be right. But right now, we really need your help. So, Paul, please, please, please come to the basement right now and help us.
“Fhii! Noo! Nohh a ghoodh idhea!” yelled Emily, trying to convince Fiona to give this up.
“Em,” Fiona said, looking at her friend, “Like I said, Paul is a good guy. For real. He said he will come over, so he will. He will think he is keeping me safe from some Craigslist rando, and that’s important to him. When he reads in the note that I’m in trouble, the first thing he will think is ‘I have to help.’ That’s the kind of guy he is. He will come to us if we are stuck and help us out right away. I know that when he first sees me, he will shake his head and say ‘Jesus, Fiona’. Then he’ll help us, while telling us we are crazy, we are stupid, we are irresponsible. And he’ll be right. But I absolutely believe that he will help us if we need it. Do you trust me, do you trust my judgement, Em?”
Emily closed her eyes and slowly nodded.
“This is a risk, Em,” Fiona said. “A three percent risk, but a risk anyway. There’s a risk we will be embarrassed. Someone will see us and think we are weirdos. Well, we are. If I ask Paul, he won’t say anything about it. There is a risk to me with Paul. Our friendship might be ruined. It certainly will be really fucking weird for a long time. I might lose my job. Those are the risks. And at the end of the day, we will be sore, we will be humiliated, but we will be safe and OK. I’m willing to take those risks for you, Em. I’m willing to take them to understand.”
“Ohh, Fhii,” said Emily, trying to reach and thank her friend.
“But,” said Fiona, “this is your call. I think we understand the risks pretty well. Everything looks solid, and our safety is reliable. But I won’t do it without your OK. If you’re not ready for this, we’ll stop right now, no questions, no recriminations, all even. It’s up to you, Em.”
The moment. There was always the moment. The choice. There was always the choice. Once again, Emily was on the cliff. Would she back off or would she fly?
“Dhoo ihh, Fhii,” she said.
“OK, here we go,” said Fiona. “I’m going upstairs, just for a minute.” She walked, naked, to the stairs, deliberately shaking her hips. Emily stared.
Fiona came back down with an ice cube in her hand. “I’m going to set up your release right now and finish up.” She took the nylon, put the ice in, fed it through the D-ring and tied it back to the string with the key, holding the carabiner.
First, Fiona opened the handcuffs and all the locks she had. She took the keys and attached them to the carabiner and walked over to the wall and attached the carabine to an eyelet screwed into the wall.
“There, Em,” she said. “No matter what, I won’t be able to get those keys.”
Fiona then walked back over in front of Emily. She grabbed all her materials and sat down on the floor. The first thing she did was wrap a short piece of chain around her ankles in a figure eight, securing them with a lock, holding her feet securely together. She raised her legs and wiggled her feet. “That feels kind of nice,” she said.
She picked up the other vibrator and held it. “This one has a low setting like yours. When I’m tied up, I’ll be teased as well, for as long as you want me to be.” Emily was entranced.
Fiona placed one hand on her pussy. “Looks like I’m ready, too,” she said, slipping the vibrator in slowly, moaning while she did so, putting on a show for an increasingly horny Emily.
Fiona then grabbed a longer piece of chain and put it around her waist as the rope went around Emily’s, trapping the vibrator in her. She laid the control to Emily’s vibrator on her left.
“Next,” said Fiona, picking up the clover clamps from earlier and shimmying over to Emily as best she could.
“No! No! No!” yelled Emily. “No langhs! Leeash” She shook her head and struggled violently.
“When I asked about them earlier, I said ‘Do you want them off for a little while?’ That means they would go back in a little while. Better think about what you ask for next time. Ready?” Fiona held them up near Emily’s nipple.
Emily closed her eyes and waited for a moment. Then she took several rapid breaths, held the last, and said “Dhoo ithh!” and took another breath.
Fiona let the jaws of each clamp close on Emily’s already-sore nipples. Emily let out a long, high-pitched wail that continued far longer than Fiona thought possible. Then Emily opened her eyes and started breathing rapidly again.
This time Emily’s voice was husky and slow behind the gag. “Uckhh . . . ooohh.”
“Sure, anytime. Let’s just get that cord attached to your head and we can continue,” said Fiona.
Emily started whining again, but Fiona was merciless attaching the cord to the top of her head harness and running it under the dumbbell to the spring that attached to the nipple clamps. Emily was in hell – and in heaven.
“So, to be fair, I’m going to try it too. These looked interesting,” Fiona said. She picked up the sticks and rubber bands. She placed two sticks, one on either side of her right nipple, and slid a small rubber band over each end. She slid the rubber bands closer to her nipple, increasing the pressure inexorably. She stopped for a moment and said, “Holy shit.” She then continued until the rubber bands were almost touching her nipple. She then repeated the entire laborious process with her left nipple. The whole thing left her panting, her breasts heaving, bobbing their new decorations up and down.
“Fuck, this is hard, Em,” said Fiona. “Gonna have to work fast now. We’re still ready, right?”
Emily could hardly believe what she was watching. “Yesh, Fhii. Ghoodh.”
“Good,” said Fiona. She picked up a further length of chain, locked one end to her ankle chain, and then pulled her legs toward her ass, in the beginning of a hogtie. When her feet were nearly at her ass, she locked the other end of the chain to her waist. She pulled several times to test it.
“Not bad, hey?” she asked Emily.
“Nohh bhaa,” agreed Emily.
“So, this is the last bit. Have to be really fast now. I’m going to turn on your vibrator while I can still see the remote.”
“Yesh! Leeash! Leeash!” Emily shouted.
“Calm down,” said Fiona. “After I do that I’m going to put on the gag, blindfold and hood. Then I’m going to put the handcuffs on around the leg chain, so I am in a hogtie. That’s my other present, Em. You have my keys, and I don’t have to be back to work until Monday.” Fiona took a deep breath. She was shivering. Emily looked at her in empathy.
Fiona took another breath. “This . . . this scares the shit out of me, Em,” she said, shuddering. She looked up at Emily.
Emily formed her words slowly behind the gag, and Fiona was able to understand what she said perfectly: “It’s okay, Fi. It’s okay. You can do it. I love my present. I love you. ”
“Thanks, Em,” Fiona said. She reached down between her own legs and turned her vibrator on low.
“Whoooo! That’s going to be very distracting in a little while,” said Fiona. “Here we go.” She reached over and thumbed the remote control to Emily’s vibrator, which drew a surprised gasp from her as it kicked in. It must have ramped up quickly, because the next sound Emily made was a long, deep, moan.
“I love you too, Em,” Fiona said, and quickly pulled on the gag, buckling it tightly behind her head. She followed it with the blindfold. Next, she pulled the rubber hood over her head, covering both the blindfold and gag, leaving only her nose free, through which she now took deep, slow breaths. She closed the handcuffs around her right wrist, and put both hands behind her, hooking the cuffs around the chain holding her legs to her waist. She brought her left wrist to the cuff, and hesitated, waiting to close the cuff on her left wrist and leave her at the mercy of her bonds.
This was the moment. This would always be the moment. The moment, and the choice. The choice to walk away, the choice to give up, the choice to abandon her lover, or the choice to soar.
Click. She chose to fly.
Continues in part two