Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Long Time Bound

by Steve Spandex

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© Copyright 2016 - Steve Spandex - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; FFF/m; F+/mf; spandex; catsuit; hood; cuffs; gag; tape; rope; bfold; hood; chairtie; tease; bond; stuck; true; nosex; cons/reluct; X

story continues from part one

Long Time Bound 2

The bare bones of this story are based on facts. These events have then been embellished, enlivened and enriched with large helpings of fantasy and fiction, to create the story you are about to read:

The age-old question: How do you first broach the subject of bondage with a woman? This has been a cause of some vexation for me over the years. After all, it’s not to everyone’s taste, and you risk scaring them off if you just blurt out the fact that you like being tied up, and even more so if you imply that you want to tie her up. It can also be quite embarrassing if you don’t know how your intended target is going to react. The subtle approach, I have come to conclude, is usually the best way. Try to pick up on something she’s said – however innocent and unconnected to the subject that might be – and then attempt to steer the conversation around to your own agenda. Then, if she shows any sign of interest at all – and provided she hasn’t run a mile - gradually let her in on your fantasies and obsessions.

The first time in my life that I plucked up the courage to share my bondage obsession is detailed in my original Long Time Bound story. But that took place when I was twenty years old. The story I’m about to relate to you happened several years later. On this occasion a remark was made by a woman that I worked with by the name of Amanda, which lead to a series of events that were to prove an amazing experience and ended up with not one, but eventually four women becoming embroiled in my strange little games. But first, a few background details.


At the time I was working as a financial controller for a global leisure industry organisation. Although the organisation was large, the office I worked in was small, with just four of us in this particular workspace, myself (the manager) and three women who all worked part time; Amanda, Jackie and Louise.

It all started on a day when Amanda and I were the only ones working in the office. Someone from another department had come into the room and had begun talking to Amanda. I can’t remember the exact details of how the subject came up, but I do recall that it was a light-hearted conversation – more a friendly chat than anything business related – and this person eventually asked Amanda what sort of boss I was to work for. Her reply – jokingly delivered - took me completely by surprise, but also sent a shiver of excitement through me.

“Oh, he’s a bit of a slave driver. He ties us to the chair with tights and keeps us there until we’ve finished our work.”

“He ties us to the chair with tights”?! Where did that come from? This all happened towards the end of the working day, and I was left with no time alone with Amanda to quiz her on this issue. I made a mental note, however, to bring this up as soon as the opportunity arose.

And that opportunity presented itself the very next day – a Friday – when all four of us just happened to be in the office. I had been trying to figure out how to bring the subject of the previous day’s remark up, but I didn’t need to, as Amanda did that for me by letting Jackie and Louise in on the conversation of the day before.

“Michelle was asking me yesterday about what sort of boss Steve is to work with, and I told her that he ties us up with tights and really makes us work like slaves.”

There was that expression again; “he ties us up with tights”. There must definitely be something fascinating her about this method of bondage. I had a theory as to what the tights reference could be alluding to (which I’ll come to later), but for now I decided that it was time to bring this out into the open once and for all.

“Tights are no good for tying someone up” I announced with some authority. “They stretch too much. You’d have to tie them really excruciatingly tightly around your intended victim’s wrists to stop them getting their hands free, which wouldn’t be good for the circulation. Rope is the thing to use. Or better still, handcuffs. You won’t get out of metal handcuffs if they’re applied correctly.”

My little speech trailed off and I looked self-consciously around at the three faces staring back at me. For a second or two no one spoke, until finally Jackie broke the silence.

“How do you know all this, Steve? Have you had experience of tying people up or something?”

It was, I think, a rhetorical question, to which no answer was expected. But I mumbled something about it being a bit of a fascination of mine, and that yes, I did have a little first -hand knowledge of how to tie ropes, and - I took a deep breath and came out with it – I did know what it was like to be tied up.

There followed a shocked silence throughout the room for several seconds, before Louise started to giggle (as she was prone to do). I felt extremely embarrassed now, but knew that as I’d come this far, I might as well keep going and see where this would lead us. I took another deep breath.

“I’ll tell you what, come around to my house tonight and I’ll give you a demonstration of what bondage is all about.”

I looked around at the faces again; Louise trying not to laugh and Jackie sitting there open-mouthed. Amanda, however, had a knowing smile on her face, as if she knew all along about my strange pastime.

It took a long while to convince Jackie and Louise that this was a serious invitation and not a wind up. Amanda, though, seemed to realise from the start that I was deadly serious, and over the course of the day did her best to persuade the other two that it might be quite interesting to go along. And eventually, with a few subtle hints from me thrown in as well, she wore them down. And so, when we finally left the office that day, it was agreed that the girls would come around to my house at around six thirty for an exhibition of what could be done with handcuffs, duct tape and an abundance of ropes.


To say I was nervous in the hour or so that I had to prepare for this evening’s events would be an understatement. But I figured that, as one of my secrets was now out, I might as well let my three work colleagues in on my other obsessions as well. And so for this reason, I dressed in my favourite outfit. This entailed slipping into a shiny, black, long sleeved spandex cat-suit with stirrup feet, which was actually designed and marketed as women’s dancewear. I had acquired many such items over the years, and each was purchased to ensure that it fit me like a second skin. I had, ever since I could remember, been fascinated with tight fitting clothing, especially on the legs and lower half of the body. I loved the sight of women dressed in tights, leggings and figure hugging cat-suits, and had experimented for many years by wearing the same in the privacy of my own home. The feel of the super-soft material as it caressed your legs and body was a feeling that never failed to thrill me. And if this was combined with tight bondage, then I was in heaven. And tonight was to be only the second real opportunity that I had ever had in my life to share my fetishes and fantasies with members of the opposite sex. Once thus attired, I made sure all my bondage equipment was ready and waiting, before stationing myself by the window and watching out for the arrival of the girls.

Six thirty came and went, and I was beginning to think that they weren’t going to show. Had they thought that this was all just a joke, and not a serious invitation? Or had they discussed the matter amongst themselves and decided that this was all a bit too weird, and that they wanted nothing to do with it?

As a quarter to seven approached, and just when I was resigning myself to the fact that my planned show would have to be cancelled, a car that I knew belonged to Jackie pulled up into the driveway outside my house. Immediately I noticed that all three of my invited guests were in the car. As they got out and approached the front door, I took a deep breath and prepared to let them in, realising that the next few hours were going to either be one of the highlights of my life, or a complete embarrassment and disaster.

I self-consciously opened the door and allowed the three women inside, trying to act as if my outfit was normal garb for a guy to wear when entertaining house-guests.

“What on earth are you wearing!?”

I forget now which of the trio came out with the question almost as soon as I’d closed the door, although I was sure that all three were probably thinking the same thing. I muttered some explanation about tight fitting clothes being ideal for bondage sessions, insofar as there were no creases, folds and general flapping pieces of material to get in the way and hinder the tying process. I knew that this lie didn’t deceive anyone, especially as almost immediately Louise noticed, from the mesh on my otherwise bare feet, that I was wearing tights underneath the spandex cat-suit. This caused much mirth amongst the three onlookers, but not too much surprise because, as I already suspected, my penchant for wearing tights was already known by all three of them.

Apart from in the hottest weather, I habitually wear tights under my trousers at work, and I am certain, from various comments and remarks that had been made at the time, that one or other of my work colleagues had glimpsed these at some point; presumably when my sock had slipped down a bit, or my trouser leg had inadvertently ridden up higher than it should, to reveal silky-soft black nylon/Lycra sheathing my lower leg. And it was this incident, which had quickly then been relayed to my other fellow office workers, that Amanda had been alluding to when she made the “tied up with tights” comments. Fortunately, as far as I was aware, they hadn’t shared this insight with anyone outside our office.

So there I stood in the hallway of my own home, embarrassed but extremely excited by the whole scenario. All my fetishes were now out in the open and I was eager to get on with the bondage demonstration that I had planned. Brushing aside their jokes and laughter, I suggested that they should all follow me upstairs to the place where I planned to show off the delights of being tied up and rendered helpless.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I lead the way into one of the spare bedrooms. I had already prepared the room in the way I wanted it for tonight, with a sturdy upright chair situated in the centre of the room and my suitcase full of my bondage equipment sitting on the floor just to one side.

“Right, do any of you want to be tied up, or would you like me to demonstrate on myself tonight?” I asked, as if it was the most natural question in the world.

As I guessed would be the case, there were no takers; the general consensus being that, as this was my idea, I should be the one to be bound. This was, of course, what I was hoping for. I explained that I was going to tie myself up as tightly as I could to the chair, gag and blindfold myself, place a spandex hood over my head and then handcuff my wrists behind my back. Reaching down into the case I produced one of the two sets of handcuffs that I possessed, with the key sticking out of one of the bracelets. Amanda seemed fascinated at the sight of these, so I handed them over to her to examine for herself.

“Take the key out and keep it somewhere safe.”

Without hesitation, she removed the key and slid it into the pocket of her tight-fitting jeans.

“Now, once I’m in the handcuffs, I won’t be able to free myself without your help.”

I went on to explain that I would struggle and it would look as if I was trying to get free. But this was just an act, as any attempted movement only served to reinforce the feeling of being trapped and helpless, which was, I informed them, what made bondage so exciting for me. I also insisted that under no circumstances were they to let me out for at least four hours. With these preliminaries out of the way, I began my demonstration.

I picked up the first coil of rope from my stash and unwound it. Finding the mid-point, I sat on the floor and wrapped the double cord once around my ankles and threaded the ends through the bight, before pulling them back in the direction they had just come to create reverse tension. I now encircled my legs two or three more times, before cinching the rope between my ankles and knotting it as tightly as I could. I tugged and strained momentarily to satisfy myself that I couldn’t get free, before retrieving two more lengths of rope and performing identical procedures just below and just above my knees.

My three onlookers, who had been giggling, making fun of me, and not taking this whole thing too seriously up until this point, now watched in fascination as my leg bonds slowly increased. Louise didn’t seem to get it at all.

“Why are you doing this?... What’s the point?... Why would you want to tie yourself up like that?...” she kept asking.

Jackie, although not necessarily understanding the rationale behind it all, was far more philosophical about the situation.

“If Steve wants to tie himself up, then that’s his concern. It’s not really for us to stand in his way is it? Whatever floats your boat, I suppose.”

Only Amanda really seemed to get it; standing to one side in silence, but with that inquisitive yet knowing smile of hers etched on her face.

Having bound my legs together, I took a fourth length of rope and tied it around the cinch in my ankle bonds, but left the remainder hanging loose for now. Using the chair to hoist myself into a standing position, I took another length of rope and wound it twice around the point where the struts on the chair’s back met the seat at right angles, and tied this firmly in place; allowing the remainder, which amounted to a length of several feet, to hang loosely down to the floor for the time being. Taking the handcuffs away from Louise - who had been studying them with more than a little fascination for some minutes - I slipped one bracelet through the wound rope and allowed the cuffs to hang loosely at the back of the chair, in readiness for the ultimate act in my bondage presentation. But there were still several other bonds to be secured before I was ready for this finale. I sat down on the chair, with my three female visitors watching my every move.

“Now I’m going to need your help with the next bit.”

I explained that I wanted one of them to grab hold of the loose rope at my ankles, pull it up underneath the seat so that my feet were pulled upwards and backwards, wrap the rope around the struts on the back of the chair, then pull the ends back down to my ankles and secure them with a tight knot. It was Amanda who immediately seemed to get the drift of what was required, as she stepped forward and without hesitation did as I had requested. She did a great job too, as by the time she’d finished, my feet were trapped high underneath the seat and I was no longer capable of reaching the floor with even the tips of my toes.

Now anchored to the chair, I needed the girls’ assistance in retrieving the rest of the ropes and other bondage gear from the case. Firstly I asked for one of my longer ropes - duly handed to me by Jackie - which I began fashioning into a rope harness that incorporated the back of the chair and, once pulled tight and knotted on my chest, moored me in an upright posture.

The next bond I again needed some help with; a leather collar which I buckled around my neck, to which was attached a short length of chain. Deliberately I made sure that the chain hung down at the back of my neck. There was a small padlock attached to the chain, with the key sticking out of the lock. I started to ask if one member of my three-woman audience would mind wrapping the chain around the top horizontal bar of the chair back and securing it with the padlock, but Amanda was already one step ahead of me, and needed no encouragement to anchor my neck to the wooden structure that I was now lashed securely to. I watched as she then placed the padlock key into the same pocket which she’d previously deposited the key for the handcuffs.

Reaching around and grabbing the loose ends of the rope that still hung from the point where the seat met the vertical struts of the chair’s back, I now wound this twice around my waist, pulled this as tight as I could and tied the securing knot on my stomach. My rope bondage was now complete, but I still had a few sensory deprivation plans to execute before my state of captivity was at the required standard for me to be truly satisfied with my handiwork. To achieve these aims I asked for four further items to be handed to me. These were swiftly retrieved from the case and placed on my lap. But before gagging and rendering myself sightless, I reiterated my earlier request that, once handcuffed, I wasn’t to be released for the rest of the evening, apart from in a real emergency.

“There’s white wine in the fridge and red wine on the kitchen table” I informed them “help yourself to any food you want. In short, make yourselves at home.”

These were my final words before pushing the gag - fashioned from a pair of tights that had been rolled up into a ball - into my mouth. Taking the reel of duct tape, I placed the end across my mouth and wrapped the strongly bonding material around my head several times, each time slightly lower or higher than the last, so that my lips were well and truly sealed; thus ensuring that spitting the tights out was no longer an option. The scarf that I now placed over my eyes and wrapped around my head, I dexterously tied tightly with a secure knot, ensuring that it wouldn’t slip and that no light could penetrate through. The final item was a black spandex hood – to match my cat-suit – which I now slipped over my head and pulled down to my neck.

Placing my hands around the back of the chair, I grabbed one of the steel bracelets and quickly shut this down onto my left wrist. Getting my right wrist into the second cuff was slightly more difficult, but after a few seconds I managed to position my hand against the curved metal and pulled the arm down; the soft click, click, click as the ratchet irreversibly closed shut assuring me that I was now trapped and completely at the mercy of my three guests.


For a few seconds there was silence from my three onlookers, as if they weren’t exactly sure what to say or how to react to what was, I imagined, a completely new and alien experience for all of them. But after maybe half a minute, I heard someone walk around the chair, and a hand grasped the handcuffs and seemed to examine them, as if ensuring that this was no trick on my part, and that I really had manacled my wrists securely.

“It looks like he really can’t get out of them.” Louise said incredulously.

“Unless, of course, there’s some hidden release mechanism which he can operate once we leave the room.” was Jackie’s cynical reply.

“Or perhaps he’s got a spare key tucked in his tights.”

This last remark was a source of amusement to my three companions. Through my gag, I tried to assure them that this wasn’t the case, although how much of this communication they understood I wasn’t sure.

“Well, there’s no point just standing around up here. Come on girls, he clearly wants to be left alone like this, so we might as well take advantage of the free wine and food. We’ll see you later Steve. At least four hours I think you said, didn’t you?”

Amanda, it seemed, had taken on board the gist of my wishes. I made a “mmph” sound that I hoped would answer this question in the affirmative.

The sound of the door to the room closing was followed by that of several pairs of feet descending the stairs. A minute or two later, I heard the sound from the television seeping up from the room directly beneath where I sat, accompanied by that of three female voices talking and laughing. I couldn’t make out much of what they were saying, but it was obvious that the primary source of their amusement concerned me and the predicament that I had just placed myself in.


It is almost impossible to describe in words the range of emotions and sensations that being completely and utterly helpless, without hope of getting yourself free, can conjure up. Being tied up and not knowing when you’ll be released can be truly exhilarating.... and also a little frightening. But fear is an essential component of any bondage session, and without it the whole experience would become a lot less enjoyable. I had been habitually experimenting with self bondage on a regular basis for many years, but those sessions always involved – out of necessity – a need to provide a means of escape. The method of release might not be immediate; waiting for a block of ice to melt and release a key, for example, or waiting for daylight to arrive so that a combination lock could be viewed, but at least I knew then that I was in control of my own destiny. Now, however, there was no such certainty. For now, I had to rely on someone else to decide when the handcuffs would be unlocked. And this unknown and unknowable dilemma was what made my situation all the more exhilarating. What if they decided not to untie me tonight, but went home and just left me bound and alone in my own house until tomorrow? What if they completely abandoned me here for good? Although I was sure that I could trust them, the fact that the time of my release was not in my own hands, made the whole scenario far more stimulating than anything I’d experienced before.

Once Jackie, Louise and Amanda had vacated the room, I was free – if free is the right word - to begin to test my bonds, in order to make sure that I’d not been careless in my tying and cinching. To my great delight, I discovered that all the ropes were secure and failed to budge even a fraction of an inch, despite my best efforts. I struggled even harder to test the efficiency of my binding skills, hoping and praying that this battle to free myself would prove unsuccessful. And it was with a great deal of satisfaction that I found this to be the case. I was stuck fast, and no amount of pulling and wriggling, wrenching and writhing was ever likely to see me regaining my freedom without outside assistance. My feet were pulled up underneath the chair and it was impossible to reach the floor even with the tips of my tights-clad toes. The tight harness and the rope around my waist lashed my body to the chair, and the knots had all been deliberately secured well out of reach of my stretching fingers, with the strict nature of the bindings making it impossible for these ropes to slip or loosen. The handcuffs, of course, were strong and unbreakable, and being incorporated into the rope around my waist, meant that I couldn’t move my hands away from the back of the chair. The chain and collar also played their part in anchoring me to the sturdy piece of furniture. The fact that I was also unable to speak simply added to the extraordinarily thrilling feeling of complete helplessness that I was basking in.

But it was the sensory deprivation afforded by the blindfold and hood that really heightened my other senses. Although I was aware of the low drone from the television and the conversation from my guests, lots of other sounds also stood out, which, if I had been able to see, probably wouldn’t have registered at all. The sound of footsteps during the periods when my guests looked in on me to see what I was up to; their soft breathing or the swish of their clothing, all became more acutely discernible. And during my periods of solitude, the creak of the floorboards or the noise that central heating systems always seem to make were also highlighted. And then there were the sounds created by me; the almost inaudible swish of spandex on spandex as I tentatively explored the efficacy of the bonds that immobilised my legs, the creak of the wooden chair as I struggled in my tight restraints, and my breathing - low and rhythmical - through my nostrils.

But it wasn’t only my hearing that was sharpened. There was the taste of the rolled up tights that filled my mouth and the distinct smell of the spandex hood. But the sense that was really heightened by my lack of visual stimuli was the sense of touch. The slight movement as the cat-suit brushed ever so slightly across the mesh of my tights beneath, and the stringency of the ropes as they cut into my legs and torso and refused to release their grip. And the gloriously smooth and skin-tight spandex that hugged and caressed my whole body was simply the icing on the cake. Even if the the girls did decide to leave me here the whole night, I thought to myself, I really wouldn’t have minded.

In fact, I found myself hoping that this would be tonight’s ultimate outcome.


On three occasions, at various intervals throughout the evening, I heard someone enter the room in which I was being held captive. Each time my visitor remained silent, and simply seemed to be watching me for a few seconds; to gauge, I guessed, whether I was still alright. On the third visit, whichever of my female house guests this happened to be, checked the bond just above my knees; to make sure, I suppose, that this was still holding me securely. She then walked around the chair and I felt a hand grasp the rope harness and again check the continued efficiency of this bond. The sensation of fingers smoothing down the spandex of my hood was followed by a hand gently caressing my thigh. I’d been in a state of arousal ever since the girls had arrived tonight, but this touch on my leg was the catalyst that pushed me over the edge, and immediately I felt my erection push hard against the tight spandex. My visitor must have been aware of this, for immediately her hand moved deep between my legs and stroked my cock. This touch was only fleeting, however, and obviously aimed at teasing and frustrating me, as seconds later I heard the door close and I was once more left in solitude.


All good things come to an end, so they say, and unfortunately for me this evening proved to be no exception to the rule. The whole experience seemed to flash by in the blink of an eye, and all too soon the four hours were up and I could hear the sound of my three female guests making their way upstairs. As I experienced the sensation of the spandex hood being lifted from my face, Jackie duly informed me that my time was up and that they had to be on their way home now (they are all married women after all - I still wonder to this day exactly what story they gave their husbands as to their whereabouts this evening). As my blindfold was removed, I tried to persuade them, through my gag, that they really didn’t need to untie me, and that I would be quite happy to be left like this all night, on the proviso that at least one of them came back and set me free in the morning. Although I think that Amanda may have been open to this possibility, she was overruled by Jackie and Louise. It was too dangerous, they informed me. And besides, all three of them were too busy to waste their time coming back here tomorrow. And so, a little reluctantly it seemed, Amanda retrieved the keys from her pocket, and the slow process of releasing me from the chair began.

Having unlocked my wrist shackles and neck chain, then untied the bond that had kept my feet airborne all evening, it was decided that I should be left to my own devices to release the rest of my restraints. Once more, Louise began questioning me as to what exactly I’d got from the experience. Why, she wanted to know, was having your freedom of movement, sight and speech curtailed such a turn on? To understand that, I told her, you’d have to try it. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem too keen to take me up on this offer.

“I know this is all a bit strange to you at the moment, as you’re all new to this kind of thing.” I said, addressing all three of them “but I’m sure, as you get used to the whole bondage ethos, you’ll understand things a bit better and hopefully begin to embrace the concept.”

I paused for a second or two, hoping the implication that this wasn’t the end of the matter, but merely the opening chapter in an ongoing saga, would be met with some sort of sign that they were open to this possibility.

“I’ll tell you what” I continued, “why don’t you all come back here again next Friday – same time, same place – and we’ll have another session.”

Louise seemed lost for words, and Jackie was non-committal, although I sensed that Amanda might well have been up for it. But although they didn’t say yes, they didn’t say no either, and I took this as a positive sign. I could always work on persuading them during the week, I decided.

And the prospects looked even brighter as they left tonight. As they filed out of the room – with me still untying my ankles - Amanda, who was the last to leave, turned back as she reached the door and gave me a knowing smile.

“Don’t worry” she whispered “I’m sure we can work something out.”


There was a strange, almost surreal, atmosphere at work on Monday morning. I must admit that, having had more than forty eight hours to mull over Friday’s events, I felt a little embarrassed by the whole thing, and a bit nervous about broaching the subject. I was also a bit scared that my secrets would be all over the building by mid morning, but this fear proved unfounded, and I was grateful to all three girls that they had decided to keep my secret fetishes to themselves. It seemed, too, that Jackie, Louise and Amanda were also reluctant to bring the subject up with me, although as the day drew to a close and she was just about to leave, Amanda came up to my desk and muttered under her breath, so no one else could hear.

“I’ve had a word with the girls, and it looks like we’ll all be coming round to visit again on Friday.”

The rest of the week seemed to pass just like any other, with only the occasional reference – usually from Amanda – that anything out of the ordinary was in the offing. However, as the week progressed, I received the impression that something was going on; that some clandestine planning was taking place which they didn’t want me to know about. It may have simply been my imagination, but on several occasions, I caught them exchanging knowing glances amongst themselves, as if they were sharing some private joke. At one point on Thursday, I came back into the office to find them huddled together in deep discussion, only for the conversation to come to an abrupt end as I entered. But whatever it was they were scheming, they clearly weren’t going to let me in on it. I took this as a good sign... at least that was my hope. Although I still hadn’t received definite confirmation that they were even going to turn up at all!

So, as five o’clock on Friday approached, and each of my three work colleagues got ready to leave for the day, I decided to test the waters.

“See you all tonight then?” I ventured casually.

“Yeah, see you later Steve. Don’t forget to put some wine in the fridge.”


Last week’s nervous state, as I waited for my three visitors, was replaced now with one of anticipation, although I was in two minds as to which direction I wanted the evening to go in. On the one hand, the prospect of a repeat of last week’s events sent a shiver of pleasure rushing through me. But on the other, I would dearly have loved one of my guests to pluck up the courage to try out the ropes for herself. There were pros and cons to each of these scenarios, and I couldn’t make up my mind which of these possible states of affairs was most desirable. In the end however, this decision was taken out of my hands, and I ended up experiencing the best of both worlds.

But that’s getting ahead of the story. Whilst waiting for my three colleagues to show, I dressed in a pair of silky soft black tights, over which I poured myself into my super-snug black spandex cat-suit.

Unlike the previous week, when they’d been late, Jackie’s car pulled up outside my house at exactly six thirty. With hindsight, I should have noticed the glances and knowing smiles that passed between the trio as they entered the building and followed me up the stairs, although at the time I was too preoccupied with getting into my bonds – or alternately getting one of them (or all three, even!) into some form of restraint- that I failed to take heed of these surreptitious gestures. Reaching the spare room that was to be used as a prison cell for at least one lucky person this evening, I came straight out with the question.

“Right, does anyone want to have a go at being tied up this week, or is it going to be me again?”

Their decision that I was going to be the one to play the role of kidnap victim once more was unanimous, and given within a second or so of the question issuing from my lips. Looking back on it later, it seemed that this had been discussed between the three of them beforehand, although the true magnitude and nature of their complicity was at that point unknown to me.

“This week though, Steve” Amanda announced “we’d like to tie you up ourselves, rather than you doing it.”

That was fine with me. Just as long as they did a good job of putting me into something I couldn’t escape from.

I soon found out that I needn’t have worried on this score. Coaxing me to sit on the chair, Louise commenced binding my ankles and Jackie concentrated on my knee bonds. At the same time, Amanda - who seemed to have elected herself the group’s leader and spokesperson - grabbed my arms and pulled them behind my back. Within seconds I was handcuffed and helpless, at which point she began fashioning a rope harness that would keep me lashed to the same sturdy wooden chair that I’d spent four happy hours anchored to last week. In fact, as the work of rendering me immobile progressed, I realised that they were tying me up in exactly the same fashion as they’d seen me secure myself seven days ago.

And they were good too. So good, in fact, that I wondered whether they’d been practicing. Each seemed to have their allotted tasks and knew who was responsible for each individual bond, which should have raised the alarm that they’d planned the whole thing in advance like a military operation. Okay, so they made one or two mistakes. But these I was instantly aware of and, not yet being gagged, it was easy for me to explain where they’d gone wrong and advice them of their errors. Such as when Jackie was in the process of binding the rope around my waist that would also incorporate the handcuffs. Unthinkingly, she went to secure the final knot at the back of the chair, close to my fingers. I was quick to point out that doing this made it easy for me to tamper with, and ultimately release myself from, this particular bond. She soon made amends, however, by removing the rope and starting again; ensuring now that the knot was placed on my stomach, well out of reach of my prying fingers.


Until you’ve experienced it for yourself, you really can’t imagine how pleasurable a sensation it can be having three women all working on tying you up and making sure that you can’t escape. Their hands, out of necessity, kept coming into contact with the tight spandex cat-suit, which sent a thrill up my spine on each occasion. And the more restrictive my plight became, the greater the surge of pleasure. By the time Amanda was collaring and chaining me to the seat, as Jackie and Louise worked in tandem to fasten my feet high under the chair so that I couldn’t reach the floor, I was in a state of complete arousal. My erection must surely have been in evidence through my skin-tight attire, although none of my attendants made any comment to this effect at the time.

With these final bonds complete, it now only remained for my trio of captors to silence and blindfold me. Amanda once more took the lead by offering the rolled up ball of tights to my lips, which I willingly accepted. Jackie then wrapped tape around my head several times to ensure that I was incapable of spitting my gag out. I think it was probably Louise who blindfolded me, but as all three girls were standing behind me, I wasn’t sure, and by then it was too late to find out. The spandex hood being placed over my head was, I think, the work of Amanda, as it was her voice that asked me, as she smoothed the fabric down around my face and neck, whether I was comfortable or not. I nodded and backed this up with a sound which I hoped would be interpreted as a ‘yes’.

“Now, take a minute or two to test your bonds and let us know if anything needs tightening.”

This was Amanda speaking again, and I eagerly complied with her request. To my great delight, I found that I was as helpless as I had been a week ago. I made some noises that were supposed to convey my contentment with their endeavours. Even so, I felt the bond just above my knee being tightened, as clearly one of my jailers had noticed a flaw in this particular ligature.

“Okay, see you in a while. We’ve got a little surprise for you later, which I’m sure you’ll find most enjoyable.”

I heard the door closing and the sound of three laughing women descending the stairs. A surprise? I had no idea what this cryptic remark insinuated. But at that moment I had no means of enquiring further. I would simply have to wait and see what they had planned. In the meantime though, it was time to relax and maximise the pleasure that my state of captivity afforded me.


The first unexpected occurrence came about five minutes after I had been left in solitude. I was expecting to hear the television being switched on, but instead the sound of the front door opening was accompanied by a short message being shouted from the hallway for my benefit.

“Bye Steve. We’re off to pick up your surprise for you. We won’t be long. Don’t go anywhere, will you?”

The door slammed shut again, leaving me alone and trapped in my own house. For a second or two, a shudder of fear surged through me. What if they didn’t return? What would happen if there was a fire? I quickly banished these thoughts from my mind. I trusted them to return. But the mystery deepened as to what this ‘surprise’ could be.

By my estimate, the girls were away for about half an hour, before the sound of a car stopping in the driveway was followed by familiar high spirited voices talking and laughing in the hallway. But as well as these sounds there was something else; a strange, muffled, high pitched sound that seemed to rise and fall every few seconds. It took me only a few seconds to fathom out the nature of this noise that seemed to respond to the other voices. Years of watching bondage videos left me in no doubt that this was the sound of someone whose mouth had been well and truly gagged, and the tone of this stifled voice led me to two conclusions. Firstly, that this undoubtedly emanated from a female mouth. And secondly, that the female in question was clearly not very happy with the way she was being treated at this very moment. Had two of my work colleagues ganged up on the third and tied her up? No that couldn’t be the answer, because I could recognise Amanda’s, Jackie’s and Louise’s distinctive voices in amongst the general hubbub, and it was clear that none of them had anything impeding their speech. So who could this fourth woman be? Presumably, she was my ‘surprise’. A shiver of anticipation rushed up my spine.

The sounds grew closer, and it was clear that this mystery woman was being brought up the stairs. The door to the room in which I was imprisoned slowly opened, which coincided with a muffled shriek from the mystery woman, as she must have caught sight of this spandex-clad, trussed and hooded guy sitting before her.

I sensed someone walking over to where I sat, and the spandex hood began to glide gently upwards until it was clear of my head. Seconds later, the knot at the rear of my head loosened, and suddenly the darkness gave way to light. I blinked and tried to focus in the brightness, and slowly my vision sharpened. Immediately my heart skipped a beat as I recognised the mystery woman. For there, standing between Louise and Jackie, was Zuzana.

Zuzana also worked for the same organisation as the rest of us, as a receptionist. She was from Slovakia; tall, slim and attractive with long black hair. I really fancied her, and my three fellow workers knew it, although Zuzana herself had no inkling of this. She stood there, her lower face swathed in grey duct tape in similar fashion to my own. Her hands were out of sight behind her; a slight metallic clinking sound as she moved betraying the fact that her wrists were locked in handcuffs - presumably my other set. But what made me gasp inwardly was her attire; a black, shiny, skin-tight spandex cat-suit, almost identical to my own, which caressed the contours of her gorgeous body and legs. How the others had managed to persuade her to wear this, I had no idea. Nor did I have any idea how they’d managed to handcuff and gag her. Was she here willingly? Her muffled pleas to be set free suggested otherwise. As did the fact that she was squirming to get away from the tight grip Jackie and Louise had on either of her arms, and the fact that she tried to kick out at each of them in turn.

Zuzana gazed at me with genuine fear in her lovely blue eyes; beseeching me, it seemed, to help get her out of the mess she had unwittingly become embroiled in. How she thought I was in a position to in any way assist her, I have no idea, but seeing her wonderful figure wriggling around in that skin-tight spandex was arousing me all over again. And it must have shown.

“Come on, bring her over here so that she and Steve can get better acquainted.”

This was Amanda’s command to Jackie and Louise, who duly obliged by pulling the reluctant Zuzana forwards until she was standing right in front of me. Her leg brushed my knee and my excitement levels went through the roof. I so very much wanted to be able to hold and cuddle her at that moment. I wanted to protect her and keep her safe from danger. But equally, I loved the fact that we were both prisoners here and that, presumably, the plan was that we stayed that way for the foreseeable future.

And this proved to be the case. With force being applied to her shoulders, the triumvirate used their superior numbers and strength to urge Zuzana to sit down astride me on the chair, so that we faced each other. Whilst Jackie and Louise held her in position, Amanda picked up a length of rope from my stash, grabbed Zuzana’s left ankle, and began to bind this to the rear leg of the chair on which we now both sat. Despite Zuzie’s best efforts to halt the process, within a minute or so this ankle was securely lashed to the sturdy chair leg, and no amount of pulling and wrenching on the part of my fellow captive had any liberating effect. Immediately this task had been completed, Amanda picked another rope from the still considerable choice available, and repeated the feat on the other ankle. Zuzana’s screams and shrieks increased in volume as she perceived her freedom of movement decreasing by the second. She was now stuck fast on the chair, but Amanda and her cohorts hadn’t finished yet. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

Working as one - which again suggested a highly organised level of advanced planning – the three women each took a length of rope and began binding these around Zuzana and me; lashing our bodies closely together. Being effectively sitting on my lap, Zuzie was slightly higher up than me, which resulted in her lovely spandex-covered breasts being situated on a level with my face. As the three bonds that were designed to keep us in close proximity to each other gradually tightened, our torsos became inseparable. Zuzana continued to protest at the atrocities being foisted upon her, but it cut no ice with our captors, who were single-mindedly focused on one objective; namely to truss us up as tightly and securely to each other as was humanly possible. And it has to be said that they received ten out of ten for their endeavours, as once they’d cinched the ropes between us, we were conjoined from waist to shoulder.

“All this work has made me thirsty. I think it’s time we had a glass or two of wine, don’t you girls?”

Amanda’s suggestion was enthusiastically endorsed by Jackie and Louise, and without further ado they left the room, shutting the door behind them; Amanda’s final remarks being shouted from the landing beyond.

“Don’t get up to too much mischief will you? We’ll see you in a couple of hours. Hope you have fun together.”


With Zuzana closer than she’d ever been to me now, I was grateful that my blindfold had been removed. As I’ve already mentioned, my eye line was at the level of her breasts, which heaved and wriggled only inches from my face. For what must have been half an hour at least, Zuzana persevered with her efforts to get free from the ropes that now held her close to me. I felt desperately sorry for in some ways, and wanted to help her. But on another level I was revelling in every second of this unexpected opportunity to spend some quality time in her company. Being so intimately close, the brush of her spandex outfit against mine, as her body bucked and fought against the ropes, ensured that I stayed in a state of high anticipation. Every time she moved, the ropes around us seemed to constrict, and the thrust of her buttocks and thighs, as she tried to pull herself away from the chair, took on an almost rhythmical cadence. And the fact that we were so inextricably close meant, I’m certain, that she must have been able to feel my erection straining at the spandex to get at her. It was wonderful... yet so very frustrating at the same time.

Every few minutes, she would look down and implore me to help her get free, although clearly she must have known that we were both in the same boat. She hadn’t seemed to grasp the fact that I was a willing participant in this whole episode, and kept asking me (if I comprehended her muted enquiries correctly) how we were going to get out of this. I did my best to make her understand that this was all a game, and that she should try to relax and enjoy herself, but her level of panic, coupled with my inability to convey this message clearly, meant that it took quite some time before she grasped the precise nature of the situation.

Finally, she seemed to recognise the futility of her plight and calmed down somewhat. I was now aware of the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing gradually became less manic, and could both feel and hear the faint pounding of her heart. The smell of her perfume filled my nostrils, and the warmth of her trembling body made me shiver with delight. It was a dream-come-true for me, and I found myself wishing that this state of affairs would last all night. Silently, I thanked my three colleagues for organising such a brilliant and totally unexpected ‘surprise’.

For the next two hours, or maybe a bit longer, Zuzana and I remained mutually and inescapably bound. There would be moments when she seemed to be on the verge of panicking again, and a whimper of alarm would force its way through the tape that covered her lower face. At these times, she would struggle half-heartedly, and I would do my best to calm her down. Then there were other times when I felt as if she was snuggling up to me for comfort, and moments like that ensured that I stayed in a state of high excitement throughout. At one point, I deliberately nuzzled her breasts with my nose, and at this point she gave what I can only describe as a giggle of pleasure.


All too soon – for me anyway – Amanda, Louise and Jackie traipsed back into the room, having consumed a fair quantity of wine, it seemed. (Or at least Louise and Amanda had. Jackie was driving).

This set Zuzana off pleading to be set free once more, and to her delight – but my disappointment – they bowed to her wishes; releasing first the ropes that had bound us in such a close embrace, then untying her legs and allowing her to stand up. As I watched, Louise began to peel the tape away from her face and remove the cloth that had been filling her mouth all evening. Her handcuffs, however, remained in place for the time being. She gulped in lungfuls of air, before looking back to where I still sat helplessly.

“Aren’t you going to let Stevie go too?”

(I loved the way she called me ‘Stevie’ in that wonderful Eastern European accent of hers).

Amanda explained that I was, in fact, in my current situation out of choice. So, no, they wouldn’t be releasing me just yet.

“He’s quite happy where he is at the moment... But for you Zuzana, it’s time to go home. Steve’s had enough excitement for one night.”

I watched as Jackie and Louise began to lead Zuzana towards the door, still in her handcuffs. At the last moment, she turned to look at me, and a slight smile lit up her face.

“Good night Stevie.”

She disappeared from my sight, and a second or two later, so did everything else, as Amanda deftly reapplied the blindfold, before once more slipping the spandex hood over my head. Only once she’d completed these actions did she speak again.

“You know what you were saying last week about being left tied up all night?”

I nodded.

“Well, we were having a chat earlier, and we came to the conclusion that if that’s what you want, then who are we to stand in your way?”

She paused, and I could hear her footsteps crossing the floor. When she spoke again, her voice emanated from the end of the room closest to the door.

“So we’re going to leave you here overnight. Don’t worry though, one of us will be back to release you sometime tomorrow morning. Hope you don’t mind.”

Even if I’d wanted to protest – which I didn’t – I was given no opportunity, as almost immediately I heard the light in the room being switched off and the door slamming shut.


And that was how I was forced to sit out the night. Handcuffed, bound, gagged and hooded, alone in my own home. The memories of the evening’s events were still vivid in my mind, and I yearned to have the warmth of Zuzana’s stunning body rubbing against me once again. I still couldn’t figure out how they’d managed to get her into the handcuffs in the first place. Had they overpowered her? Did she, initially, agree to being shackled, only to later regret this decision when she realised it was a long term sentence?

But these questions would have to wait for now. What really mattered was that I was in a unique situation here, and I resolved to make the most of it while it lasted. Most of the night was spent ensuring that I remained in the highest state of arousal possible. The sensation of trying to move, but being thwarted at every turn is one that can’t be described in mere words, but needs to be experienced in order to understand the complex web of emotions involved. Okay, so there were always fears about the uncertainty of the situation lurking just below the surface, but the sheer joy of my helplessness outweighed all other factors. And the memory of Zuzana’s recent presence ensured that this particular night would live long in my memory.


At some point during the early hours, I must have dropped off to sleep. I was awakened, however, by the sound of my radio-alarm coming on in the bedroom, which informed me that it was now 6:30 am. Normally on a Friday night, I turn the alarm off so that I can have a lie in on Saturday, but of course I had been in no position to do anything of the sort last night. Although I was in no great rush to be released, I began to wonder exactly when one or other of my captors would be back to free me.

The hours drifted slowly past. As the radio was in another room, I couldn’t make out much of what was being broadcast, but I could gauge when the top of each hour was reached, by the fact that the music stopped for a few minutes, and the muffled voice of the news presenter could be heard. 8 am, 9 am, 10 am, all came and went, with no sound of my front door unlocking and footsteps ascending the stairs. A sudden thought gripped me; had one or other of my colleagues remembered to take a key with them? If they’d merely slammed the front door, then someone would have to break in before I could be released.

11 am arrived, with still no sign that anyone had remembered that I was stuck here without hope of escape. I had now been tied up for sixteen hours or so, and although I loved being bound, there were a few other considerations now that were beginning to take the edge off my enjoyment. For example, my limbs ached, my throat was dry and I desperately needed the toilet (luckily, I’d had the foresight not to drink too much the previous afternoon, but you can only hold out so long). Where were they? Should I start trying to call for assistance? The latter, I knew, would be a futile exercise, given the nature of my gag and the distance between my house and the neighbouring properties.

By now, I had started to get reasonably proficient at gauging the passage of each hour, and at what must have been around quarter to twelve, I finally heard the key being inserted into the lock and someone entering the house. From the footsteps, I deduced that I had only one solitary visitor.

The door to my room opened, and for several seconds there was silence. Then I sensed someone taking a circuitous route around me, as if to take in all my bonds and make sure I hadn’t managed to loosen anything. I think at that point I must have made some sort of noise into my gag, for the next thing I knew, I felt a pair of hands slowly begin to ease the spandex hood upwards. Seconds later, the pressure around my head relented and my eyes were greeted with an intense brilliance they hadn’t known for more than twelve hours. By the time my sight finally readjusted to the light, the tape that held my gag in place was carefully being peeled from my skin. The face that met my gaze turned out to be Amanda’s. She smiled at me.

“Hope you had an enjoyable night.”

By now the tape had been removed from my flesh, and the rolled up tights were being coaxed out of my mouth.

“You took your time. I was beginning to think you’d abandoned me here.” I croaked, not realising until now just how dry my mouth and throat had become.

“Sorry about that. It was just that, once we’d left, both Jackie and Louise realised that they had other commitments this morning. So it was left to me to come and rescue you.”

She glanced at her watch.

“And anyway, I said someone would be back this morning, and it’s still only five to twelve. That’s still morning in my book.”

She stood up from where she’d been crouched beside me and walked around to the back of the chair. I heard the soft clink of metal, and all of a sudden the chain that fastened my collar to the chair loosened and I was able to move my head forward for the first time since yesterday evening.

Although speaking hurt my throat, I just had to ask about Zuzana’s involvement in last night’s events.

“We thought you’d appreciate that little surprise, seeing as how you’ve made it so clear that you’ve got the hots for her. As you’ve been so generous in supplying us with wine and food these past two Fridays, it was the least we could do in return.”

“Yes, but how did you get her to wear the cat-suit and get her into the handcuffs? She looked genuinely frightened... unless she’s a very good actress.”

“That was no act. She really had no idea of what we had planned for the evening. You see, during the week, I’d been speaking to her at work, when she’d mentioned that she was just starting dance classes. This gave me an idea. I told her that I had a dance cat-suit that I no longer needed, and that, if she wanted it, she could have it. I told her I’d bring it around to her apartment on Friday evening. The cat-suit she was wearing is actually one of yours which we borrowed. I hope you don’t mind.”

I was hanging on Amanda‘s every word, as she paced across the room.

“So I told Jackie and Louise about my plan, and they both agreed that it would be fun to bring her here to spend the evening with you. So once we had you all tied up and helpless, we went around to her flat. She was surprised to see us all together, but we told her that we were all coming around to your house as part of one of those ‘team bonding exercises’ that they’re always going on about at work - should have said bondage, rather than bonding, I guess!”

She stopped directly in front of me and toyed with the key to the handcuffs, pretending to be unsure of whether to release me or put it back in her pocket.

“Anyway, I told Zuzana to try the cat-suit on to see if she wanted it. She went away, put it on, then came back in to show us. It fit her like a glove and she loved it. She was just about to go back into the bedroom to take it off again, when she casually asked what exactly we were going to do at your house. That was our cue. Rather than tell her, we decided to show her. Before she knew what was happening, we’d grabbed her, handcuffed her, gagged her, bundled her into the car and brought her here. The rest you know.”

Before I’d had a chance to speak, Amanda anticipated my next question.

“Don’t worry though. Once we’d explained to her that it was all just part of a game, she was fine about it. She’s not going to press kidnapping charges against us or anything. And she’s promised not to tell anyone else, either. I don’t know what you two got up to last night, but as a matter of fact, I think in the end she might have actually enjoyed herself – although she’d probably be too embarrassed to admit it. We’ll let you discuss that with her when you see her next. You never know, she just might be up for a repeat performance if you’re lucky.”

Finally, Amanda came back over to the chair and unlocked my handcuffs. As I rubbed my wrists and eased my aching muscles, she looked at her watch again.

“Anyway, I must be off. You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve got to fit in today. You’re lucky that I had time to come back and release you at all. I’ll let you get out of the rest of your bonds yourself.”

She was heading for the door, but then stopped in her tracks. She turned to look at me.

“You know, I’m not entirely sure I understand what you get out of all this, but I guess it must be something special, otherwise you wouldn’t be so keen to be left tied up like this. You’ll have to let me in on the secret sometime.”

“There’s only one way to really know exactly what it feels like, and that’s to try it for yourself.” was my quick-fire response.

Amanda gave a slight, knowing smile before turning away and heading downstairs.

“Maybe” I called after her “you’d like to try it sometime.”

From the stairs I heard her call back.

“You know what? Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer....sometime.”

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