© Copyright 2018 - Steve Spandex - Used by permission
Storycodes: MF; challenge; Sbm; spandex; catsuit; rope; handcuffs; gag; blindfold; hood; F/m; tease; bond; mast; denial; climax; true; cons; X
(N.B. Each episode in the Long Time Bound series is complete within itself, so there is no need to have read the previous chapters before reading this one)
Let me make one thing clear right from the start. My sole objective was to get Charlotte into some strict bondage and allow her to discover how exhilarating this type of pastime could be. I never had any thoughts of being bound myself on this occasion. However, the secret of a good plan is to remain flexible, and when things don’t go quite as anticipated, and you meet with resistance from your intended target, sometimes you have to make sacrifices to reach your intended goal. And this is exactly what happened in the tale I’m about to relate, which took place in December 2016.
I’d always had a yearning to tie Charlotte up as tightly as possible, but broaching the subject of bondage with a woman can be a little tricky, to say the least. And when the opportunity did finally present itself, the initial reaction I received was not particularly encouraging. The chance came at our annual office Christmas dinner, on a Wednesday in mid December (I know Wednesday is a ridiculous day to have a Christmas party, but at that time of year everywhere gets booked up early on the weekends, and you have to take what you can get). After the meal was over, and with both of us having drunk slightly too much, I suddenly saw my window of opportunity. Christmas crackers had been provided by the restaurant that evening, with the usual key-rings, mini screwdrivers, equally tiny packs of playing cards etc , being amongst the ‘gifts’ that tumbled onto the table once the flimsy paper and cardboard packaging had been pulled asunder. As fate would have it, however, Charlotte’s cracker yielded something that made my eyes light up, as I quickly realised that here was a way to bring the conversation around to my favourite subject: Bondage.
At around two feet long, the piece of thin cord, when removed from the small see-through plastic enveloped in which it had been sealed, proved to have been fitted with a small ring at each end. It was obvious that that this was supposed to be a lanyard for fitting onto the arms of spectacles, for the purpose of hanging around the wearer’s neck to stop the glasses falling. I, however, immediately realised that this could be utilised for other purposes.
Slightly stretchy in nature, this cord was hardly the ideal binding agent, but if it could swing the conversation around to my obsession, then it would serve its purpose. Casually, I picked the cord up and started playing with it. I can’t remember my exact words now, but they must have been something like “This would be good for tying someone’s hands with.” Everyone else at the table had become engrossed in their own conversations, which left me and Charlotte – who I’d deliberately made sure I was sitting next to tonight – to talk without interruption from our work colleagues.
My rather inane attempt to bring the topic up, however, received little acknowledgement, so I decided that I needed to be slightly bolder if I was to get anywhere. I held the cord taut.
“Hold your hands out.”
Charlotte took a swig of her drink, and looked quizzically at me, and it was clear my opening shot hadn’t even really impinged upon her consciousness.
As I offered my reply, I half expected the room to suddenly go completely quiet, and everyone to turn and stare at me as if I was mad. This synchronised silence, to my great relief, failed to materialise.
“So that I can tie your hands together” was my reply, delivered as innocently as possible.
Charlotte’s response however, was not the one I was hoping for, and it became clear fairly quickly - as I pushed the issue to the point where she became slightly irritated with me - that being bound in any way, shape or form was not something that she’d ever considered as an activity that you did for fun. In fact, as I persisted, it became obvious that she had no conception of why anyone would want to be tied up. Her persistent retorts of “No!”, as I tried to cajole her into holding her wrists out in front of her, were interspersed with another one word riposte: “Why?”
The gist of my argument, as I tried to make her see the light, was that if she’d never been tied up before, then how was she to know that she didn’t like it.
“You never know, you might enjoy yourself. Let me just tie your hands for a couple of minutes so you can get a feel for it. You’ll never know unless you try.”
Unfortunately, I didn’t seem to be weakening her resolve. In fact, she was becoming more annoyed with me as the minutes passed. Finally, she snapped at me.
“No! I don’t want to be tied up! How would you like it if someone wanted to tie you up?”
Her question was meant to be rhetorical, but immediately I seized on this.
“Oh I wouldn’t mind, especially if it was by you... Are you offering?”
Charlotte looked at me with a mixture of confusion and amusement on her face.
“Well you’re the one that brought the subject up, so I think you should demonstrate that you’re prepared to practice what you preach. Give me the cord.”
This wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind, however.
“Not here. What I mean is, if you want to meet up sometime, I’ll let you tie me up so that you can see what a lot of fun it can be.”
I wanted to add that after she’d tied me up, it would then be her turn to be bound, but thought I’d better not push too hard just now. Charlotte’s answer was that if that was what I wanted, then she’d be happy to oblige, although I got the feeling that this was as much an attempt to close the subject and move onto another topic, as it was an actual agreement that we’d take this whole thing further at some point in the future. But it was a start, and I knew that I would have to pursue this as far as I could as soon as the opportunity arose.
The next day – Thursday - I, like almost everyone else who had been out the night before, took off as annual leave, to recuperate from my hangover. I was back in the office on Friday, however, as was Charlotte. I have to admit that I was a bundle of nerves. I had resolved to broach the subject again as soon as I could get her alone in the office, but I wasn’t sure what reaction I would get when I did. In truth, I wasn’t even sure she’d remember much of the night’s events, given the amount of alcohol consumed that evening. I’d pocketed the glasses lanyard prior to leaving that Wednesday evening, and had decided that I would use this as a reminder, to see what response I got...if any.
Luckily, my chance came when the majority of my colleagues went to lunch. I produced the cord and laid it on Charlotte’s desk.
“I don’t suppose you remember this, do you?”
“Of course I do. You spent most of the evening trying to convince me that I would enjoy being tied up.”
She turned her attention back to her screen, as if trying to avoid further discussion on the matter. I decided to persist, however.
“Yes, but do you remember that you agreed to tie me up, in order to show you that bondage could be a lot of fun?”
She sighed and looked at me.
“Yes I remember. So what?”
“Well I was hoping to take you up on the offer.”
She looked at me as if I was deranged, then shrugged.
“Okay, if that’s what you really want.”
It was of course, and I let her know it.
“So what about tonight then?”
She sighed, heavily.
“If you must.”
She seemed weary of the whole subject, but the fact that she hadn’t said ‘no’ was good enough for me.
“Great, shall we say seven o’clock then? Give me the address of your flat and I’ll be around with all my gear.”
I was expecting her to pull out at the last minute, but she shrugged again and began writing her address out for me.
“That’s settled then. I’m sure I can convert you to the joys of bondage.”
She got up to leave the office. Flicking her long dark hair back over her shoulder, she gave her final verdict as she went off to lunch.
“I doubt that somehow.”
Call it wishful thinking if you like, but I was sure that I detected the hint of a smile on her face as she left.
The rest of that afternoon was a bit of a blur in my memory, after our little pact had been struck. I had no reason to speak to Charlotte for the rest of the shift, but did catch her eye on one occasion. Instead of ignoring me, as I’d presumed she would, I got a half smile. It was a “we’ve got a secret that no one else knows about, haven’t we?” type of knowing smile. Or at least that was how I interpreted it at the time. This heartened me greatly, as I figured that she couldn’t totally be against the idea of me giving her a demonstration of tight bondage in her home. Which all pointed to the fact, I persuaded myself, that really she was curious, but was maybe too embarrassed to let it be known. And if she saw me enjoying myself in tight restraints, then maybe she could be coaxed into taking a turn in the ropes herself.
Seven o’clock couldn’t come quickly enough as far as I was concerned, and I found myself entering Charlotte’s apartment building around twenty minutes early, with my rucksack containing all the tools of the trade slung over my shoulder. I rang the bell and waited. Thirty seconds at least must have elapsed, and I was beginning to think that she’d gone out... or had realised it was me and had decided not to answer. But then the door opened and Charlotte appeared. She looked at me with a certain amount of surprise, as if she hadn’t really expected me to turn up. I noticed that she was dressed up for a night out, but didn’t think too much about this at the time.
“Oh it’s you. I suppose you’d better come in then.”
Despite her seemingly grudging acceptance of my presence, a hint of a smile played on her lips, which at the time I took to be a sign that she was coming around – maybe – to the idea of tight bondage being something that she might like to try. What I didn’t realise was that this was a devious smirk, due to the cunning trap she’d set for me.
“So you actually turned up then?”
“Of course. You didn’t think I’d miss an opportunity like this to initiate you into the world of bondage, did you?”
She led the way into her living room, before turning to face me.
“Let’s get one thing clear straightaway. If you want to be tied up, that’s up to you, but you’re definitely not tying me up!”
I held my hands up, as if in surrender.
“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.”
(The inherent implication being that, by the end of the evening, Charlotte would indeed have become curious and changed her mind.)
For a few seconds, silence hung over us, before Charlotte again spoke.
“Okay, so what happens now?”
“Well first I’ve got to get ready for you to tie me up.”
Charlotte watched aghast as I undid my belt and quickly removed my trousers, before taking off my jacket and pulling my t-shirt off over my head. She looked at me open-mouthed for a second or two.
“What are you wearing?!”
I explained that the tightly fitting, shiny black spandex cat-suit that covered me from neck to wrists and ankles was actually worn for practical reasons.
“Loosely fitting clothes just get crumpled, ride up and generally get in the way when you’re tying someone up. That’s why I’m wearing skin-tight clothes.”
What I didn’t add was that the feel of having soft spandex rubbing against my skin was a real turn on for me.
Without further ado, I opened my rucksack. I held it open so that Charlotte could see the multitude of ropes inside, together with a pair of handcuffs, reels of duct tape, a scarf and a spandex hood in the same colour as my cat-suit. I took out the first piece of coiled rope and handed it to her.
“Okay, you’re in charge. Do whatever you want.”
Charlotte began to unfurl the rope, but it became obvious very quickly that she had no idea about finding the bight, creating reverse tension, cinching, or indeed tying knots that would hold for more than a few seconds. I decided, therefore, that I would need to take control of the situation.
“Here, let me show you how it’s done.”
I took the now tangled rope and quickly found the mid-point. Sitting down on the carpeted floor, with my back to the settee, I placed my ankles closely together and began wrapping the doubled cord around my lower legs several times, then made a tight cinch so that I wouldn’t be able to wriggle free. I swiftly secured the knot and for a second or two pulled and strained, in an effort to show Charlotte that escape wasn’t possible. By now she was kneeling on the floor beside me, and when I glanced at her, there was a look of concentration – or was it fascination? – etched on her face, which made me realise that she was keen to take in the techniques of the trade. This boded well, I felt.
Without delay, I retrieved two more pieces of rope and quickly tied these just below and just above my knees, so that, once completed, my legs were bound strictly and securely in three places. All this had been done in silence, with Charlotte simply content, it seemed, to watch and learn. But what should I do now? My original plan had been for Charlotte to tie my hands with rope, but as she was obviously a novice where such things were concerned, I feared that, should she be given the task, I would be free in seconds; which would not have been the desired outcome that I was looking to achieve at all. Then I had an idea.
Reaching into my bag, I produced several items and laid them on the floor beside me. As Charlotte gazed at these newly revealed pieces of bondage equipment with a look of incomprehension on her face, I began to explain my plan.
“Right, so first I’m going to gag myself with this rag...”
I held up a sizeable piece of cloth which I began scrunching up into a tight ball,
“....then seal my lips with tape. I’ll then tie the scarf over my eyes and pull the hood down over my head. Then I’ll put the handcuffs on behind my back. Once that’s done, I’ll be completely helpless and unable to see or speak.”
I took the key of the handcuffs out of its resting place in the keyhole of one of the steel bracelets, and held it out for Charlotte to take.
“Look after this for me please. Once I’ve cuffed myself it will be entirely up to you when you let me out again. I’ll be completely at your mercy.”
Slowly, Charlotte held out her hand and took the key from me; still without a word, although I thought I glimpsed a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, which hinted that she probably wouldn’t let me out again too quickly. This suited me fine.
Stuffing the rag into my mouth, I quickly wound several circuits of grey duct tape around my head, making sure that each layer was stuck firmly down, and that each pass was slightly higher or lower than the one beneath. The upshot of this was that, once I’d torn the tape from the spool, my lower face and head, from just below my nostrils to under my chin, was swathed in an unbroken sea of grey. Smoothing the whole thing down, I lost no time in tying the scarf across my eyes and knotting it securely at the back of my head, making sure that there were no gaps through which light could get in, and that there was no way the blindfold would slip. I supplemented this by slipping the clinging spandex hood over my head and pulling it down to my neck.
Everything was ready for the final piece of the jigsaw to be slotted into place now. Feeling around on the carpet, I quickly located the handcuffs and slipped my right wrist into one of the waiting rings of steel. The staccato sound of the ratchets coincided with the tightening of the metal around the narrowest part of my arm. Placing my hands behind my back, I slipped my left wrist into the second bracelet, and began to push down with my right hand. This wasn’t the first time I’d ever handcuffed myself by any means, but there always comes a time – just after the point of no return has been reached – that for a brief second a chill runs down your spine, and you wonder whether you’ve done a foolish thing.
During self-bondage sessions, this momentary doubt is caused by the fear that you won’t be able to locate the key, or that it will become stuck in the lock, or break, and you’ll end up trapped. On this occasion, however, with my fate being entirely in Charlotte’s hands, these concerns weren’t relevant. So what was it that caused this brief millisecond of panic to rear its ugly head? In truth, I couldn’t really put my finger on the reason for this fleeting sensation, but I think that it probably stemmed from the fact that I subconsciously suspected that Charlotte’s silence and self-satisfied smiles pointed to her having some hidden agenda. But it was too late to start worrying about things like that now.
For a minute or more after I had fulfilled my transformation into a helpless captive, there was silence, during which period I received the impression that Charlotte was simply sitting there watching me. For some reason, the image that flashed across my mind’s eye was of my lovely hostess grinning smugly, knowing that she had complete and utter control over me. Despite my momentary reservations as to her motives, this actually excited me, and I’m sure that the swelling in the crotch region of my tight cat-suit must have been evident. But if this was the case, Charlotte showed no signs of acknowledgement... at least not at this time.
Instead, I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder and my upper torso was pulled forwards. For maybe half a minute, Charlotte’s warm hands inspected the steel manacles that kept me prisoner. Finally, she broke her silence.
“Just wanted to check that the cuffs are real, and not a trick set with release buttons. They look pretty sturdy to me though. I don’t think you’ll be getting out of those any time soon.”
After a pause of two or three seconds, she added, “Well, I’m certainly not going to be letting you out in the near future.”
As she spoke these words, a faint bleeping sound filled the air; clearly a sign that she’d received an incoming text on her phone. I heard Charlotte stand up and move across the room, before another few seconds of silence ensued, as presumably she read her message.
“That was a friend of mine, wondering where I’ve got to.”
I heard her soft footsteps cross the carpet, and I pictured her in that slinky little black dress she was wearing, with her lovely legs sheathed in those silky, shiny black tights, as she sashayed across the room.
“You see, I’ve made plans to go out tonight with some friends, for a few drinks, then clubbing.”
I heard a sound that I interpreted as her putting her shoes on.
“I wasn’t really expecting you to turn up here tonight, but as you have, I’ve decided that I might as well have a bit of fun at your expense.”
I heard a rattling sound of keys or loose change, as if she was getting her handbag sorted out ready for departure.
“So you think you can win me around to appreciate how wonderful it is to be tied up and rendered helpless, do you? Well now you’re going to have the chance to prove it. As you clearly enjoy being kept bound and gagged, I’m going to leave you here while I have a night out. I probably won’t be back before about two or three in the morning, and you’re going to have to remain all trussed up like that until I return. If, when I get back, you can convince me that you’ve really enjoyed being tied up here for seven or eight hours, then maybe I’ll be forced to concede that you have a point. I think it’s more likely that you’ll be begging me to let you go by then, though, as I bet you’ve never been tied up for such a long period of time before, have you?”
I heard a light being switched off, before the door to the living room closed. From beyond, I heard Charlotte’s voice one last time.
“Bye Steve. I hope you have a really enjoyable evening.”
I heard her high-heeled footsteps on the wooden floor of the apartment’s lobby, as she left the building. The slamming of the front door had a finality about it, as the echo reverberated around the flat for several seconds. Then silence reigned.
Anyone who has read any of the preceding episodes in my ‘Long Time Bound’ series will know that Charlotte’s assertion that I wouldn’t have been used to being tied up for a period of seven or eight hours at a time was well off the mark. And as these instances had all been either self induced or willingly accepted stints of inescapable captivity, then you can probably guess that I wasn’t too fazed by the fact that I wouldn’t be getting out of this latest little liaison with the ropes and handcuffs any time soon. In fact, being kept tied up by a beautiful woman was one of my favourite ways to spend my leisure time.
Not being too familiar with the layout of the furniture in Charlotte’s flat, I decided that moving too far from the spot that I had been left in - close to the settee - was probably not a good idea. So I simply stretched out on the floor and let my fantasies run wild; augmenting my vividly bondage- obsessed imagination with a mock battle for freedom, which helped to heighten the sense of vulnerability, danger, uncertainty and outright pleasure that situations like this always aroused in me. After an hour or two of this revelry, however, I found that I was becoming increasingly tired, and soon my eyelids began to feel heavy, until within a few minutes I had fallen into a peaceful sleep.
The sound of the front door to Charlotte’s apartment opening brought me round with a start. For a few seconds I forgot where I was, but then reality kicked in and I relaxed, as the knowledge that I was still Charlotte’s prisoner allowed a wave of contentment to wash over me. For a minute or more, I heard someone fumbling around in the hallway, then the living room door opened and a light switch clicked on.
“You’re still here then? You must be enjoying yourself, or you’d have escaped by now. I guess you really do enjoy being all trussed up and helpless, don’t you?”
There was a strange incoherence in Charlotte’s voice that I’d heard only a couple of days ago at the Christmas party, and I knew straightaway that she was slightly the worse for drink. She was in a good mood, however, as every utterance was interspersed with strangely uncoordinated giggling.
I heard a soft rustling sound as my captor knelt down close to my head, and seconds later I felt the spandex hood begin to rise upwards over my face with a burst of static that seemed to have been picked up from lying with my head against the carpet. With the hood removed, I felt a pair of hands at the back of my head trying to release the blindfold. Being so drunk, however, this became a much more difficult task for her than it would normally have been; a situation which made Charlotte laugh even more. Finally, however, the scarf loosened and fell away, allowing my eyes to take in the first light available to them in many a long hour. When my sight adjusted to the unfamiliar lighting conditions, I found the smiling yet swaying young woman sitting on the carpet beside me. The clock on the wall behind her showed that it was twenty to three, which meant I’d been bound and gagged for seven and a half hours.
“So, how does it feel to be tied up for hours at a time? I bet you wish you hadn’t started all this now, don’t you?”
I muttered something through my gag about how I was quite content being left bound and helpless for hours on end, and that if she really wanted to know what it felt like, then maybe now was a good time to try it. I wasn’t sure how much of this muffled message got through, but Charlotte seemed to get the gist of what I was saying. She looked at me quizzically.
“You really do enjoy all this kinky stuff, don’t you? Well if you like it so much, who am I to spoil your fun?”
Before I knew what was happening, Charlotte had grabbed the scarf and begun retying it around my head. Within seconds I was in darkness again, and almost immediately I experienced the sensation of the soft spandex being once again eased over my face.
It was crystal clear to me now that Charlotte had no intention of letting me go tonight. But far from being in any way disconcerted by this turn of events, I actually found the notion of being kept here whilst she slept off her hangover quite a turn on.
I had been lying on my side when Charlotte had woken me, but in order to reapply the blindfold, she had rolled me over so that I was now stretched out on my back, with my hands beneath me. And it must have been at this point that she noticed my excitement at this turn of events, which was manifesting itself in my erection straining against the tight covering of my cat-suit. Suddenly, I felt a hand begin to brush against the spandex, and my delight increased one hundredfold, as Charlotte began to rhythmically stroke and caress my hardened cock. For several minutes Charlotte teased, tantalised and tormented me, until I could contain myself no longer. I bucked upwards and moaned with pleasure into my gag, as a warm, wet patch soaked through the spandex. Finally, with all my energies spent, I relaxed with a sigh of contentment.
“I think I’m beginning to get some idea of why you’re so obsessed with bondage now. Does this always happen when you’re tied up?”
Charlotte laughed playfully as her hands ceased their pleasure inducing duties. I heard her stand up and stagger across the room.
“You know something Steve? I’m not sure what I’ve done with the key to those handcuffs, I think they must be somewhere in the bottom of my handbag.”
She paused for a brief period, to let this information sink in.
“But I’m much too tired – and too drunk – to look for it now. So I’m afraid you’ll have to stay like that for a while yet....Sweet dreams.”
I heard her giggle to herself one final time as she left the room, having first turned off the light. For a few minutes, the sounds of a toilet being flushed and a tap running reached my ears. Then peace once more descended on Charlotte’s apartment.
The signs were encouraging, I contemplated, as I lay back on the hard floor and resigned myself to several more hours of captivity. It was clear that Charlotte’s attitude had softened during her time away; although how much of this could be put down to the heavy alcohol intake, I wasn’t entirely sure. But the fact that I hadn’t been struggling for all I was worth to get free, or screaming as loudly as I could into my gag for help, or pleading with her to let me go, had all started to sow the seeds in Charlotte’s mind that there might just be something quite appealing in this strange game called bondage. And the fact that she’d lent a hand – quite literally - in bringing me to a state of ecstasy, had surely added weight to my argument that bondage was something that needed to be nurtured, experimented with and cherished, for it to be a truly delightful pastime.
But how long was I going to have to remain handcuffed, bound, gagged and sightless? I doubted, given her inebriated state, that Charlotte was likely to rise early. In fact, it would probably be late morning at the very earliest before she once more saw fit to pay any attention to her willing prisoner. Luckily, I had made sure that I hadn’t had much to drink in the hours prior to arriving at Charlotte’s place tonight, so the need to pee wasn’t an issue. I therefore felt totally comfortable with my plight, and content to remain where I was for the rest of the night.
Having fallen asleep again, the next thing I knew, the spandex hood was once again making its slithering way up my face and away from my head. I was expecting the blindfold to also fall from my eyes at this point, but for some reason the return of my sight was delayed by a half a minute or more, as presumably Charlotte simply looked on; trying to gauge, I guessed, whether I was still happy to be bound, or eager for freedom. The answer to this unspoken question was definitely the former. When the blindfold was finally removed, bright sunlight streaming through the windows of my captor’s apartment blinded me temporarily.
As my vision gradually adjusted to the change from darkness to daylight, the first image to sharpen into focus was the sight of Charlotte bending over me, her lovely breasts bouncing beneath her tight t-shirt only inches from my face. At once I felt myself becoming hard again, and longed to be able to get at her, preferably having first tied her up. She failed to notice my excitement at this moment, however, as her attention was turned to picking at the end of the tape around my face. Once she had achieved this aim, she began to unpeel the still strongly adhering wrap from my skin, before relieving me of the cloth gag that had been ever-present since I’d first bound myself. How long ago would that have been? Well, the clock on the wall showed twenty minutes after midday, which meant that I’d been Charlotte’s prisoner for over seventeen hours now.
“Well Steve, I have to say that I’m impressed with your determination to convince me of the wonders of tight bondage.”
She held a glass of water to my lips, and allowed me to drink for a few seconds. My throat was dry and burning from my session without refreshment, but after only a few seconds, the glass was taken away.
“That’s enough water for now. We wouldn’t want you to have an accident on my carpet now, would we?”
It was at this point that I was enlightened to the fact that my stint in bondage was still not about to come to an end. But if that was what it took to totally convince Charlotte of the glories that could be experienced from long term restraint, then I was willing to maintain my status as her manacled and trussed up captive for a bit longer. And it was clear from her next statement that, although coming around to my way of thinking, she still wasn’t quite there yet.
“You see, I’m the kind of girl that doesn’t like to jump into things without first making certain that I’ve got everything straight in my mind, and at the moment I’m still slightly uncertain as to whether this is really for me or not.”
She picked up the rag and started to push it back into my mouth.
“So what I’m going to do is leave you here until you’ve passed the twenty four hour mark, then reassess the situation. I’m fairly certain that, if you’re still content in your bondage, I’ll be won over to the cause by then.”
Pulling fresh tape from the spool, she commenced once again sealing my mouth. I was hoping that she was going to be on hand to watch and learn as I luxuriated in my bonds for the next few hours, but as she finished, and was preparing to reapply the blindfold and draw the hood back down over my head, there was a knock at the door.
“Ah, that’ll be my friends. We’re going to the football this afternoon, then for something to eat afterwards, so it’ll probably be about seven o’clock before I get home.”
She smoothed the hood down and for a few seconds ran her hands down my body. This had the effect of causing my already excited cock to push hard against the spandex of my cat-suit, and within seconds Charlotte had become wise to my excitement and briefly toyed with me by slowly stroking and caressing me. But unfortunately, on this occasion, I was destined to remain frustrated, as another knock on the door distracted her from her mission to repeat last night’s delightful little episode.
“Sorry Steve, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you this evening.”
I heard her get up from the carpet and walk across the room, shouting “Hold on, I’ll be there in a sec” to her impatient callers. The living room door slammed shut, and seconds later the sound of the front door opening was followed by the voices of her friends – two females by the sound of it – greeting her. Seconds later the door closed again and the voices faded to nothing.
I had forgotten that Charlotte was a season ticket holder at Portman Road, and that Ipswich had a home game this afternoon, but the fact that I would have to wait a bit longer in my helplessness didn’t worry me one iota; especially as it appeared that Charlotte was on the verge of becoming a convert to the cause of strict bondage. Alternating periods of mock struggle with intervals of fantasizing about what was to (hopefully) come later that evening, the time seemed to fly past, and before I knew it the front door was once again being unlocked and my gorgeous hostess was shouting “Hi Steve, I’m back” from the hallway.
For a few minutes I heard Charlotte moving around the flat, not coming near or interacting with me. But then I heard a sound close at hand, as she sat down on the floor beside me. I felt a hand push deeply between my thighs, and immediately my cock was standing to attention, thrusting against the spandex once more. It didn’t take long for Charlotte to once more bring me to climax, and my whole body writhed and twisted as her hands worked their magic again. But what was to happen next? Was I to remain bound even longer?
The answer to the latter question was that it was entirely my decision. Leaning over me, her warm, firm breasts gliding across my spandex covered chest, I felt Charlotte place something small and metallic in my left hand.
“There you go Steve, there’s the key to the handcuffs. It’s entirely up to you whether you let yourself out right now, or wait a little longer. But I have to say that I think it would probably be in your best interests to release yourself soon, as I’ve got a little surprise lined up for you.”
I felt the pressure of her body against mine ease and heard her stand and walk away, before a door closing told me that I was alone in the room once more.
I wasn’t exactly sure what Charlotte was enigmatically referring to, but I knew I had to find out. But first I had to get myself free from the bondage that I’d been trapped in for the past twenty four hours or so. For several minutes I fumbled in my attempts to get the key into the lock; dropping it on the carpet twice, and having to feel around with my fingers until I once more located it. Finally, the bracelet on my right wrist relinquished its grasp on my flesh and I was able to part my hands for the first time since yesterday evening. Quickly, I released the second manacle then set about restoring my sight and vocal capabilities. The room was in darkness save for a small lamp glowing in one corner of the room, and I heard no sound to indicate where my female companion might be hiding. Rubbing my wrists to get the blood flowing again, I began untying my legs, before getting shakily to my feet and exercising my cramped and underused muscles.
Walking to the living room door, I opened it and stepped out into the entrance hall of the apartment. There was still no sign of my elusive hostess, but I spied an open door that obviously led to the bathroom. Shutting myself within, I relieved myself, washed my hands and splashed water over my face. Finding a tumbler in the cabinet, I poured and swiftly drank two glasses of cool water, to not only ease the dryness that was a consequence of an elongated period with very little liquid refreshment, but also to rid myself of the stale tang of the cloth that had been wedged behind my teeth for that same period of time.
Now refreshed and revitalised, I smoothed my cat-suit down to ensure there were no wrinkles, then left the bathroom to hunt for my erstwhile captor. I didn’t need to search far, however. Standing in the entrance to the living room, leaning against the door frame with her hands behind her back, stood Charlotte. Dressed now in a black, long-sleeved Lycra leotard that highlighted her marvellous figure, and silky black tights that showcased her lovely legs, she looked at me with a mischievous grin on her face.
“So, are you convinced that being tied up and gagged can be an enriching experience now?”
I think - at least I sincerely hoped – that I already knew the answer to my question. And I was not to be disappointed.
“Of course. How could I fail to be impressed with your willingness to withstand a full day of inescapable bondage. And I witnessed firsthand how excited you got when I gave you a little – what shall I call it? – helping hand.”
With baited breath, I asked my next question.
“So... would you let me tie you up now...just for a little while?”
Charlotte laughed and turned her back to me. For some reason I hadn’t realised why she’d been standing with her hands hidden from sight, but now everything became clear. The handcuffs clinked and reflected back the light from the overhead bulb, and it was obvious that she’d made certain that the rings of steel were tight enough around her wrists to ensure she couldn’t slip out of them. I was aroused all over again, and I’m sure the tightness of my outfit made Charlotte aware of my excitement.
“Why not? It looked like a lot of fun. I’ve made a start already, as you can see. I’ll leave the rest up to you, however, as you’re the expert when it comes to tying ropes.”
Charlotte led the way back into the living room. Sitting down on the floor, she stretched her legs out in front of her and placed her feet together. As I picked up the first piece of rope, however, I noticed something small and shiny resting on the carpet. I quickly grabbed the key to the handcuffs and placed it in the bag that held all my bondage gear.
I had no intention of using that key again for a very long time.
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