© Copyright 2003 - John Roper - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbf; M/f; online; chat; strip; rope; crotchtie; belts; gag; hogtie; stuck; climax; cons; X
Tracy had never been bound by anyone, not even herself. Turning 18 seemed as good an excuse as any to remedy that shortcoming. Being the gorgeous brunette she was, cyber chats seemed to be the safest inroad to exploring the latent image she'd so carefully hidden from her circle and family since the morning she woke from a dream in which someone strong and masculine tied her to a chair and left her to the kinky outcome of her first, bondage wet dream.
Meeting John online quickly evolved into her first
conversational experience with a man who excelled in the fine art of bondage
foreplay. They'd met in an AOL, member-generated chat room labeled 'BONDAGE4PLAY4FEMS,"
and were immediately IM comfortable, in spite of the 38 year age difference.
It didn't take long for her to accept a private chat invitation and send
John a picture that displayed her 38-22-36 assets in a way that would inspire
any B/D minded gent to ask,
In the carefully spent minutes that followed, as per John's instructions, Tracy secured a crotch rope that ran from a hard knot in front, between her legs to the back of the waist circle, under which it was threaded and fed back down and up between her legs, up under the waist circle in front, and down between her legs again, which were bound with scarves at the ankles and lower thighs.Excited?
She semi-sat on her bound legs, in her high back, arm-rested office chair. The lasso end continued down between her upper thighs, thru the back of her calves, under and over the ankle cinch, and up to her wrists in back, which were crossed and bound within four circles of slip knot lasso. The belts had been joined and tightly secured around her upper body, above and below her ample breasts. The gag was face cloth stuffing, held in with another scarf.
When Tracy did what she was told, her wrists were but a few inches from her crossed and bound ankles in back of her. The hog-tie was, to say the least, severe. But Tracy 'knew' what she was getting herself into, and John had assured her of a way of escape if she could not manage one herself. Before she slipped her wrists into the four lasso circles, he instructed her to hit any right board key to answer 'yes,' and left for 'no.' Even though reaching the keys with her nose was difficult, Tracy managed to do so in the minutes that followed. Every time she did, the crotch rope tightened considerably, sawing at her wet crevice, which, in turn, produced its desired effect. Nose typing also tightened the lasso loops around her wrists, a result she hardly noticed at first, but later realized and appreciated without concern. ‘Wow, I really feel tied up.’When you are securely bound, hit a yes key.
Three, very exciting minutes passed without a word from the damsel's binder. Tracy went nuts trying to free her wrists from the 4-looped lasso circles, while pondering the possibility of being semi-permanently bound for as long as it took for her roommate to get home. It soon dawned on her that she might not have left enough hog-tie slack between her wrists and ankles to accomplish the task. ...'Wow.'
The phone rang. Nose-wise, it was just out of reach, as was her mouse. The machine picked it up..."Hi, Trace. It's me. Won't be home till late’ maybe not until tomorrow. Enjoy your privacy. Seeya." Tracy made two, very tight fists and tore into her situation with renewed enthusiasm. The rope between her legs made the first-time experience swelter with uncommon excitation. Her long, sexy fingers flared out with expressive frustration, groping and flailing to reach the knots in her ankle cinch. ...'Damn!'
They were out of reach and three deep, and there were no other knots to stretch for. Even if there were, Tracy's long nails would have made the task near impossible. In her haste, Tracy had tied them in front, instead of in back of her ankles, as John had instructed. His words echoed back at her about doing 'exactly' as she was told. It was then something unimaginable happened. Tracy began to spasm, but not in the usual way, for she had been teetering on the edge of her current envelope for as long as her wrists had been bound together behind her.
The unprecedented, sensual event continued its imploding ways for the next several minutes, during which Tracy took full advantage of her predicament. Internal fireworks reached the ends of their psychologically inventive imaginations, setting off a red-hot display of writhing undulations and crotch rope tugging. ...'Oh-my-God. I can't stop cumming.'
The belts around her upper body were tightly drawn, making it impossible to do anything productive with her arms, which were held fast and closer together behind her back than they had been before. Given the way she was forced to sit. An attempt to remove the heels failed almost immediately. A try at losing the gag was equally unsuccessful. And there was nothing on screen to read from her 1500-mile-away binder.
'I can't get out of this...what in the hell was I thinking?...And why can't I stop cumming?'
Tracy's enjoyment of her newfound turn-on was, to say the least, acute,
in spite of the possibly inconvenient consequences involved.
Several, very erotic minutes passed, during which both John and Tracy contemplated the situation and enjoyed the outcomes it inspired.
Then, something extremely consequential happened, something that would not have happened had Tracy not made a second crucial mistake. In order to get things rolling as soon as possible, she'd lied to John about the automatic turnoff at AOL. There it was, staring her in the face. 'Do you wish to stay on line?' read the window.
Tracy's eyes focused on the out-of-nose-reach mouse, leaned forward as far as she could, fell harmlessly off the chair, and immediately experienced the beginnings of a multiple that went on for several spectacular seconds.PerfectTyr: Having fun?