© Copyright 2001 - John Writer - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/f; bond; bdsm; sex; sbf; sbm; attic; cons/reluct; X
Damned rain! Today again. The wipers ran wildly across the windshield, trying desperately to make some sight possible. This was yet another day when he couldn’t understand the thought behind interval wipers. Why didn’t the car manufacturers equip their cars with low, high, raging...
With a deep sigh he pulled into his driveway, parking the car just in front of the garage. For a few minutes he sat there, gathering the courage to open the door and make the dash for his front door and the comfort inside the house. Finally he picked up his morning paper, placed it over his head and made the break.
Inside he realised that he should have read the paper in the morning, now it was too late. Tossing it into the sink he went about making some coffee, trying to find relief in the boring greyness that surrounded him nowadays. A few minutes later he had his favourite cup filled with steaming hot coffee in his left hand, and a business tabloid under his right arm. He headed upstairs to his home office, a room with some bookshelves, a huge desk, a computer and most of all a large comfortable armchair, that had made this room his favourite lair of the house. He placed the cup on his little sideboard, stretched his legs, put his feet on the foot stool and took a deep breath. A nice warm sip of coffee, another deep breath. Things were coming together. He opened his business magazine and started to browse the headlines.
Suddenly. A drop fell. What was that? He put his tabloid down and listened. Nothing. A new sip of coffee.
There it was! Another drop. What the hell?
He got up and out in the hallway. Listening. There it was... he moved towards the sound, entering the bedroom. It was husky and dark, quiet and still. Ha, there that sound was again. He lit the light and held his breath. Two feet beside the lamp in the ceiling was a large dark spot, from which glistening water drops fell with a regular pace. They swivelled through the air and landed on the new, expensive hardwood floor.
Now his mood sank below bottom. He hated the stubborn rain, haunting him for days, weeks and months. And now even in his own bedroom. He got a bucket that he placed in the middle of the wet spot on the floor, noticing a change in the annoying sound of falling water drops. Next he got up to the attic to survey the range of the catastrophy. Navigating to the area above the bedroom, he found himself facing a wall of cardboard boxes, bags, suitcases and such. Behind that wall he saw the raindrops stain the wood in the ceiling dark, forming a great black spot from which water fell from a hook screwed in wood.
Making loud use of his extensive supply of curses he made his way trough the wall of boxes, taking little notice about the bags and things that tumbled to the floor razzeling, and crashing. Standing right under the hook he felt a cold drop of water fall onto his forehead. He slowly began to forge evil oaths about the imbecile who had screwed a hook through his roof.
Trying to determine the range of the leakage he looked down. To his surprise he found himself standing on a piece of soft, furry carpet maybe eight foot six. The carpet was soaking wet and he could feel the moist creeping through his slippers.
Why on earth was there a carpet on the attic floor?
He couldn’t remember seeing it before. As he looked around his eyes caught a suitcase that he didn’t recognise. Slowly he walked across the soaking carpet and squatted next to the suitcase. Trying the latches he found them locked. A few seconds he tried again, then the rage that had been building up inside since he first was forced up from his chair, exploded and with a violent tug, he pulled the case open. As he saw its contents he froze and his jaw fell to his chest in utter surpise.
The suitcase was full of ropes, chains, handcuffs and leatherstraps. There where also two thick envelopes, tucked inside straps of the top half of the case. He stared in confusion, unable to figure it out. What was this and where did it come from? Without thinking he reached for the envelopes, opened them and looked inside. The first one felt thick and flat and he found half a dozen glossy magazines inside. On the covers where photos of bound women with little or no clothing. The titles included bondage, bound, roped and such. Slowly he began to understand. He had heard of bondage, he had once seen a XXX-rated movie where one of the women got tied up, but he had never tried it himself...
As he started to understand the meaning of the magazines, he also got a picture of the use of the things in the case. For a moment he felt the second envelope between his fingers, uncertain as to whether he dared to open it or not. He felt the irregular thickness and guessed that it contained photos. A feeling was building up inside him, that he already knew what he would find, what these photos would show.
Finally he opened and started to look through the pictures. His feeling had been correct. On photo after photo he saw his wife bound in the most amazing positions, wearing lingerie or being completely nude. Some pics showed her struggling across the floor, sometimes only her legs visible, sometimes her head. On some of the images the camera had caught her eyes... and that hurt him a lot. In her eyes he recognised that fiery heat that lit her eyes when she was really, really excited. She was as turned on in these pics as he had ever seen her. That thought hit him like a shower of melted lead. He was on fire, burning with the wounded soul of the jealous. He felt lonely, shut out from her secrets and her lust. He felt cheated and betrayed.
Staring at the photos, lost in his own dark thoughts he hadn’t heard her coming home. She on her side had seen the door to the attic being open, his filled coffeecup on the table and him out of sight. She immediately realised that he had found her secret and her heart sank. Slowly and trembling she got up the stairs and entered the attic. She saw him sitting on the floor, behind the broken down wall of boxes and cases that she had regarded safe... She felt his dark moods through the moist air of the attic, felt his pain and anger calling silently. Slowly she got closer.
"Hi dear" she said, voice hardly able to break the drumming sound of the water falling on the roof. Slowly he laid down the photos and turned his head towards her, looking at her with sad eyes. "I’m sorry" she said honest in repentence.
"So am I." he answered with a low voice, words hardly coming over his lips. "How long?..."
"A little more than a year..."
"So you like to be bound?"
"Yes... I’ve always fantasised about it but never dared to bring it up..."
"Why, afraid that I wouldn't grant your wish?"
"No... afraid to hurt you..."
"Well at least you have achived that!"
They stared at each other in painful silence. She couldn’t read him. She felt how strong feelings boiled within him, but she had no idea where it would end. She wanted to explain, but she couldn’t gather the courage. Finally she wanted him to talk, no matter what he would say, as long as he broke the silence. Just as she was on the brink of crying she saw his body straightened, and felt that he had made a decision.
"Come here" he said in a demanding tone.
She was happy that he didn’t tell her to go, so she approached him at once.
"So, these go on here?" He said as he closed a steelcuff around her slender wrist.
She didn’t yet know if he was going to forgive her, so she didn’t dare to question him or back off, so she lowered her teared eyes and whispered.
"Yes, that’s what they are meant for."
He turned her around, pulled her arms behind her and secured the other cuff to her other wrist. Then he got a large red rubber ball on a black strap and held it out in front of her.
"And this goes into your mouth? "
She nodded silently and opened as wide as she could as he pushed the ball inside her. He buckled the strap so tight that the corners of her mouth hurt and her lips almost closed around the ball. Next he took a piece of rope that he folded in half, placing the middle of the rope around the links connecting her handcuffs. Then he led her to the wettest spot, right under the hook, lead the rope ends through the hook and pulled. He kept on pulling as she raised her fettered arms behind her, bending forward. He stopped as her wrists were a foot higher than her shoulders and tied the rope off with several knots.
"Is that how you like it?" he asked, not so much because he wanted an answer, more because he wanted to state his power over her. She didn’t answer, but lowered her head and yielded to her bonds.
"Oh, I forgot, you also like to be naked, right? "
He started by unbuttoning her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Next he pulled her panties down, having her step out of them, throwing them away in a dark corner. He left her dark nylon stayups, since they made her look more stripped and sexy. He then got up and went behind her. Pushing his crotch against her exposed ass, he reached around and squeezed her breasts, reaching inside her blouse with the tips of his fingers. Without warning he ripped her blouse open, not caring the slightest that most of the buttons where torn off and landed shattered on the wet carpet. She moaned through her gag, pressing against him. He continued his work by unhooking her bra, pulling both the bra and her blouse back over her shoulders down her arms until the handcuffs wouldn’t let them go further.
"You will notice that your hook has caused a leak in the roof" he told her as he looked at her helplessness. "I have to think this through. You might as well enjoy yourself."
With that he left her and went downstairs with a dark rage threatening to break through the sad look in his eyes.
The rain fell heavily and the wind made the raindrops drum on the windows as he sat nursing a scotch and his self-pity. He did love his wife, he really did. He still remembered when they first met at a sales conference. Both their companies had had large representations and they had both been invited to a dinner with all the conference participants present. He had seen her enter the dining room as clearly as if they had been alone. She had exciled all the other hundreds of women and as he realised his companion had her to the table, he had without hesitation paid him a hundred dollars to trade places. So he had had her to the table, courting her from the first second. She had laughed at his jokes, surpassed him in enjoyable conversation, caught his eye as soon as each toast was proposed. They had danced together all night and been inseparable since then. Even though that was eight years ago they were still as romantic and tender as if they were on their honeymoon.
And now it had all changed. She had been playing bondage games with some stranger, rather than telling him about her fantasies. She had cheated on him, letting someone else tie her up, naked, in their own home. He felt devastated. The pain burned through his soul as if his heart had turned into an erupting vulcano.
He felt sorry for himself. He tried to feel some real anger, wrath, maybe even hate... but he just couldn’t. He still loved her and all he really could feel was sorrow and grief. He wished he could cry, but he couldn’t. His first impulse was to run up to the attic, free her, hug her and try to make it all undone. But he felt that there was no way back. They could never pretend nothing had happened. They had to take it from here, no matter if he liked it or not. He spent an hour trying to get things straight, but he didn’t succeed. He still didn’t know what to think, how to handle things. So he started to cut down the perspective, trying to leave the future to later and focus on the present.
He emptied his tumbler with a grin. Then he recapitulated. His wife had proved to be into bondage. He had never tried it before. She was tied up and naked upstairs. He loved her and found her incredibly sexy. Unable to think any further, he decided to go upstairs and let the lusts of sex rein. He glanced at the clock, noticing it had been an hour and a half since he left her. Beating up some courage he thought of the rough jokes men used to tell in locker rooms. Trying to enter the role of a chauvinistic male he approached his captive wife with an acted self-confident manner, looking at her as a subject, a tool for his own satisfaction. He had already in the stairs decided not to bother about her satisfaction, only his own.
As she heard him enter the attic, she raised her head and looked at him with large eyes. She had been wondering what would happen. She had felt his raging emotions and she had been unable to tell where it would end. She knew she had hurt him, that he felt betrayed but she didn’t know where that would take him. For the first time in their long and wonderful relationship she was clueless as to what he was thinking and that scared her a lot. She didn’t know how long he had been gone, but she had started to get cold. The raindrops falling from the hook tormented her naked body and she had twisted, trying to catch the drops on her blouse. Now that he came back to her she looked at him, trying to figure out what mood he was in. She saw him move like a hero in some western movie, and she felt his eyes measuring her as if she was a piece of furniture or something else that he owned. She felt humiliated by his cold glances. He had always looked at her with love and respect, now she was nothing but a subject of his.
With an almost arrogant look in his face, he walked slowly around her, looking at her suspended body from all angles. Then he promptly stepped close to her and grabbed one of her breasts. He grabbed it in his hand, as if he wanted to crush it. He squeezed harder and harder. First she only felt humiliated, then as pressure began to grow, she felt a sting of excitement, deep down in her subconscious. Her hidden urge for bondage and erotic torture began to waken.
She squirmed and tried to look at him, to see what mood he was in, to see whether she dared to enjoy or be frightened. But his other hand took a firm grasp of her hair and turned her head away so she couldn’t get a glimpse of him. Her heart pounded heavily, her thoughts ran wild. What was he doing? She tried to feel some of that familiar and well-known tenderness, but she felt none. The man holding her so harsh was her beloved husband, but he felt like a total stranger. He moved differently, touched differently and acted way out of his usual manner. She began to get frightened. What was he up to? Was he mad? Would he hurt her?
Suddenly he let go of her breast only to hit her hard with his open hand on her exposed butt. She jerked and screamed, terrified by the muffled noise that came through her gagged mouth. It hit her that she would be unable to call for help if he went wild. No one would hear her in this rain, not with the ball gag in. Before she knew it she felt his hand move down her behind, stroking her sex with cold and hardhanded moves. She was on the brink of panic. She tried to close her legs, which only rendered her another hard blow on her buttocks. She had longed for this, lusted for it, being bound and ravaged by her man. But know it happened for all the wrong reasons and she was scared and wanted out. Pleading into the ballgag, she felt his grip tighten in her hair and his other hand return to its exploring of her private parts. She wanted to cry. Desperately she tried to recognise her man, to find some signs of his love.
Suddenly he let go of her and moved around in front. He stood so close that she couldn’t see his face. She could either look down his trousers or lift her head to stare at his belly. His hands went around her and reached for her breasts. Exploring them untenderly, he ended up rolling her nipples between his thumb and index finger. She jerked and tried to pull away. Her move made her loose balance for a moment and she fell a few inches forward, touching his shirt with her nose.
Suddenly she found it, something familiar. He may have altered his move, his touch and his glances, but he smelled the same. Through the chaos in her mind, the well known scent found its way to her deepest corners. The scent became the key that turned in all the right locks. Through the web of fear, anger, humiliation and confusion, that loved scent sent flashes of recognition, making her remember her unyielding love, her endless faith, and all the tenderness of her latest eight years. Deep inside her love and lust started to feed her senses. It was her chosen one that held her captive and she knew she had to give in, to go with it. If he wanted to hurt her, than the love of her life was a lie, and nothing would matter. She was his, she had always been, and actually she had always been dreaming of him tying her up and using her. Now that happened and if that was to be wrong... There was no alternative to lust. She felt her heartbeat deepen, her breath grow heavy and her whimpers turn into moans of pleasure.
Standing in front of her, squeezing her nipples, making her twist like a worm on a hook, he felt like an empty shell of his former self. He had entered the attic determined to ravage his wife, but he felt cold and empty, not in the mood for sex, nor anything else. If she had chosen someone else, then it was all over. That magic they had shared, that had made him love her and make love to her, was gone and he only felt ridiculous. Rolling her nipples between his fingers he felt her pain, heard her whimpers. But it didn’t give him any satisfaction at all. She was scared of him and, as he thought of it, so was he.
What was he doing? He was just about to end it all, release her and ... well he didn’t know what, when suddenly he felt a change. Her moves became different, her sounds familiar. From her gagged mouth came the moans and deep breathing he knew so well. It hit him right in his manhood. Her soft swaying, her nipples stiffening under his fingers, her legs twisting slowly. All of her had changed, all of her appearance had turned from being a scared victim to being a wanting bundle of arousement. Unable to understand the sudden change he hesitated, but the feeling in his stomach, the pounding in his chest and the yearning pressure in his pants took control. Without knowing it he smiled and lingered a few more seconds in his firm grip of her nipples.
Then he moved behind her again. Holding her hips firmly he pressed himself against her, putting pressure on his bulging crotch. Her moaning and her slow rubbing of her naked sex against his pants, made him almost wild. He knelt down behind her, still with her hands on her hips and started to kiss her soft skin. Her scent was strong and fresh, remembering him of all the good moments they had had. For a while he just looked at her moist lips, glistening between her stretched thighs. Blowing softly he chilled her, making her very aware of his close presence. She quivered by anticipation, trying to move backwards on her toes to make their lips meet.
He backed off, slowly, teasingly and she followed until she stood on her tip toes on the edge of loosing her balance. Then he planted a deep craving kiss between her thighs, causing her to jerk spasmodically and howl into her gag. While she was struggling to regain her balance, he went to the suitcase. After some curious examination, he choose a weird looking whip made of a dozen thin leather straps attached to a leather clad handle. At the end of each strap was were a few knots. Wielding it carefully, he let it land with a sharp sound on his arm. He felt a sharp sting, but no real pain. Satisfied he went back to his wife and started to caress her by letting the tips of the whip touch her naked skin.
Her anticipation made her jump each time the leather touched her and her body wiggled slowly from excitement. As he finished his second round encircling her, he lifted the whip and let it fall with a firm blow on her buttocks. She jumped so that she would have fell if she had not been suspended. From her gagged mouth came sounds of passion that he had never heard before. He hit again, and again and again. For each time he stroke harder, spurred by her completely raging passion. As he let the whip land its knotted straps on the glistening lips between her thighs, he feared that the neighbours would hear her savage moans. Finally he could not resist any longer. He ripped his pants open and pushed deep into her. Holding her steady with his hands on her hips he ravaged her in a way that he never thought possible. Her reddened butt pumped fiercely back at him, and she tossed her head back in a frenzy.
Before long he felt the long denied stimulation build his excitement to the edge. With a roar he exploded in her, standing cramped by the intensity of his orgasm, trying not to melt down in a heap at her feet. Trembling he slowly moved his aching dick in and out in her squeezing cave. She yelled behind her gag, desperate to get the same relief, pushing herself against him. Slowly regaining control of his mind and his body, he bent forward, pressing his chest against her wet back. Reaching around her he used his right hand to gently massage her longing clit, using the other hand to fondle her breasts. Remaining inside her he felt her squeeze harder and harder, jerking with his every move. Her breath went wild, than almost stopped as he pushed her over her edge and she broke down in a shivering orgasm that ravaged her for almost a minute, before rendering her completely numb, hanging in his arms and her cuffs.
As quickly as he could, he released her and carried her away from the dripping water. He kicked down a spare mattress that stood against the wall and gently he laid her down on it. Laying down behind her he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. As their heartbeats calmed down his thoughts began to race.
"Why did you do it?" He asked with a deep sigh.
"Get a lover..."
She broke free of his embrace and turned around. Her eyes where wide open from surprise and a suddenly growing insight.
"Is that what you think?"
"What am I to think? A hidden suitcase full of obviously sex related playthings, photos of you all naked and trussed up. Lust giving your large eyes fire to light candles. Tell me it’s farfetched to think you have a lover..."
"It’s farfetched to think I have a lover!"
"Give me a break..."
"No, you give me a break. Ever heard of self bondage?"
"What?… You mean you did that to yourself?"
"Actually I did."
"But the photos?..."
"A camera with remote trigger! Check for yourself. All the photos where taken from the same angle..."
He stared at her, torn between contradicting feelings. He marvelled at the intriguing possibility that she did it by herself, but he still felt suspicious... Slowly he got up and fetched the envelope with the photos. Sitting with his ankles crossed on the mattress beside her, he started to browse the photo pack. She crawled up behind him, looking over his shoulder.
"Hmm, I did like that one" she whispered in his ear. "Look, up there you can see the ice cube holding the key to the handcuffs."
"Yeah, I used ice to keep the key away so I couldn’t get free to soon. It’s a little boring when I’m all tied up and all I can do is wait for the key to fall. But I used to fantasise about things..."
"Like you coming home early, finding me helpless, keeping me as your prisoner of love. But it didn’t turn out exactly that way, did it?"
She hugged him from behind kissing his ear lightly. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying her tender love signs, but then he went back to the photos.
"You’re telling me you did that to yourself?"
He showed her a photo where she was laying on the floor dressed in thigh high black boots, black opera gloves, a black leather hood and tied everywhere it counts.
"Yes, I did. I had a most exciting trip and a hell of a time trying to find the key and get loose. I was still in the shower when you got home."
"Tie yourself up like that again, while I’m watching."
She crawled around him, looking seriously at him. "Do you really mean I have to prove it to make you believe?"
"Well...no. But I sure would like to watch you do it."
"OK, but on one condition!"
"If I can do that, and get loose on my own, then you try the same thing. "
He looked at her with a confused smile. Then his eyes wandered to the picture and he tried to imagine what it would feel like to be in that position. His first reaction was hesitation, but after a few minutes curiosity took over. Raising his head he met her eyes again.
"OK. Sit back and enjoy…"
She kissed him lightly and got up slowly. Caressing herself she performed a lovely striptease, removing the last remains of her clothing. Then she fetched the suitcase and sat it down in front of him. For the next few minutes she was busy selecting leather straps, chains, cuffs and a few nylon straps that where easily tightened by pulling the free end. After having lined all the equipment up in front of him, she went away to a dark corner of the attic, returning with a pair of shiny black boots. She put her naked feet into the boots and zipped them up. He gasped for air as she rose, towering over him on her six inch heels. She looked more stunning than ever…
Noticing his excitement, she smiled at him, showing herself off for a little while, then she got on her knees and started to work. First she buckled a wide leather strap around her waist, tightening it carefully. Next she threaded a nylon strap under the waist chinch, leading the end through the middle link of her black leather handcuffs. Then she led the end through the buckle, adjusting it so that the buckle was on her belly, the handcuffs and the free strap end hanging between her legs, reachable from behind. Then she strapped her legs tight with black leather belts, both at ankles and knees.
"How do you like it so far?" She asked her stunned husband as she pulled the black kidskin gloves up over her elbows.
"My only trouble is keeping calm, not interfering" he smiled.
She then placed the end of a nylon strap under the leg of a heavy shelf, and buckled three wide leather straps loosely around her waist.
"Here" she said with an insinuating smile, "the key, hand it to me when you want to see the escape act…"
She pushed a ballgag into her mouth, closing the buckle in the nape of her neck, under her hair. Reaching for the black leather hood, she gave him a last daring gaze, then covered her head, lacing the hood tight. Feeling around her, she took one of the straps around her waist, treaded her arms inside it and lifted it up, just above her breasts. With some effort she pulled it tight, placing the buckle in front. Then she put the nylon strap around her arms, behind her back, still loose enough to let her work on the other straps. The two remaining leather straps around her waist was used to pull her arms tight to her torso, both at a level just under her breasts and at her waist level.
For her last steps she laid down on the side, reaching down for the cuffs. With quite a lot of effort she succeeded in placing her hands in the cuffs, locking them in place with padlocks. Then she started to shuffle herself across the floor until the strap around her elbows tightened. Wiggling and struggling she slowly tightened the strap until her elbows almost touched. Then she pulled the strap free from the weight of the shelf. Finally she took the strap from between her legs and pulled. She kept pulling until her hands where pressed firmly against her buttocks and the strap buried in the softness between her legs. With a deep moan she tried to move, only to find that her work was completed. She was totally helpless, strapped tight, robbed of speech and sight. Her squirming made her bondage rub her body, sending sweet sensations through her being. She had bound her self, just as she had done many times through the past. Only this time she had done it in front of her husband, and he was now sitting somewhere near, holding the key to her freedom.
He was stunned. Nothing she had ever done before had given him a thrill even close to this. He sat unable to move for quite some time. His eyes were trapped by the marvellous beauty that had bound herself in front of him. He felt a growing urge to touch her, to caress her soft sensuous skin. But something held him back, kept him immobile as if carved out of a rock. He just couldn’t break the spell. Time flew by as he slowly started to breathe again, trying to regain control of himself. He started to imagine what it would be like to play with her, to tease her and love her, to worship her as the love goddess she was. But he felt the time improper. It was as if any interaction would break the spell. For the first time ever he was let in on her secret and was able to watch her play this erotic game. He just couldn’t break free of the illusion of being in a dream, a dream that he would break if he touched her. And somewhere deep inside he felt that other chances would come and that treasuring this moment and this experience in its wicked innocence would only increase the sensations of taking charge at another occasion. Still in a dream he tossed her the key.
In her darkness she felt all her old and familiar sensations rush through her existence. Only this time with the added thrill of having him watching. She felt more naked and more loveable than ever, fantasising of his strong hands exploring her wanting body. Still she felt an illusive shadow of doubt, of discontent. His suspicions had hurt her and she just couldn’t let go of it. Trapped in a contradicitve web of emotions she soon lost track of time, struggling to fight the shadows of doubt, tying not to give in to the sweet sensations of desire. When she finally felt the light tap of the key being tossed on her bare buttocks, without him touching her, she felt oddly relieved. Working with the skill of long experience she got her cuffs unlocked in minutes, and decisively worked her way to freedom.
As the hood came off their eyes met. In hers there was the spark of challenge, in his the glimpse of doubt. He tried to pretend he had forgotten, but she handed him the hood with a challenging smile. Slowly and with lots of assistance he copied her position. The main difference was that the strap that cinched his handcuffs to his buttocks, was not attached to a waistbelt, but to a padlock the she had locked around his balls. Finally he was done. Fully naked he laid on the attic floor in front of her, his legs strapped together at ankles and knees, his wrists locked in leather cuffs, cinched tightly to his balls. His arms strapped to his torso at three places and his elbows drawn backwards in an awful strain. Even the ballgag was in place, secured by the snug leather hood, that fit his larger head even tighter than it had fit on her.
He felt more helpless than he had imagined possible. To his surprise the tension on his balls made the blood rush in his member, hardening him, increasing the strain and then the blood flow. He was trapped in a sweet hell of stimulation. As he tried to roll around he felt clumsy and awkward, almost yelling into the gag as he accidentally rolled over on his belly, pressing his manhood towards the belly, increasing the strain tenfold. Quickly he struggled to roll over to the side again. As he managed to find a bearable position, he felt her glove clad hand touch his balls. First he moaned of lust, thrilled by the sensation of her light touch, but then he felt the coldness of an other padlock, slightly, but noticeably smaller then the first being locked around his already squeezed balls.
"This lock is connected to a very short chain" he heard her say through the hood. "The other end of the chain is locked to an eyebolt in the floor."
A few minutes of silence followed as he tried to figure out what this was all about. Hardly breathing he awaited her next move.
"The key to your handcuffs is locked to this padlock, which is a combination padlock with four wheels on it. You can’t reach it when your hands are locked in the back, and you can’t free your hands until you reach the key. But of course anyone who does not have the hands locked behind you, can easily free you, If they know the combination that is…"
He heard her footsteps disappearing towards the stairs, the attic door being closed and her descending the stairs. Then all was silent. For a few moments he listened for her return, but heard nothing. He tried to move around, only to find that the chain anchoring him was indeed short and every attempt to move caused growing discomfort. He pulled and twisted on the cuffs, but achieved nothing. He was trapped and he was starting to get scared.
Time slowly passed and he went through stages of anger, fright and despair. He felt convinced that hours must have passed when he finally heard steps in the stairs. The door opened and he heard footsteps nearing him.
"Oh my, she was right" a female voice stated.
It was not the voice of his wife, and his heart stopped for a minute as he tried to figure out what was going on.
"I’m her friend" the woman continued, "and I’m here to drive her to the airport. She is loading her cases in my trunk just now. Seems that you blew it, pal."
He was in shock. Was she leaving him? Without a word? Oh shit. He tried to argue through the gag and the hood, struggling like mad to free himself of the merciless bondage. But he only grunted meaningless sounds and his efforts only increased the pain in his balls. After a few pathetic moments he was subdued by the bondage he had put on himself.
"Would you like to talk to her? Is that what you are trying to say? Well, tough luck. She said that you had set the mood, introducing the custom of not talking about things. I heard you left her bound and gagged her, without letting her explain… Well now you can experience the fun of that first hand."
The steps went away and there was nothing he could do about it. At the door the sound stopped and he heard her speak again:
"Don’t worry, I'll be back after I’ve left her at the airport. If she is kind she will give me the combination, if not there is only 10.000 combinations to try…"
The door closed, the footsteps faded and he was alone. Time dragged. All of his muscles ached, but he didn’t notice. He cursed his stupidity, wondering how on earth he could have been so stupid. After the life they have shared, he had let his jealousy take the better of him. He cried. The thought of loosing her would kill him, loosing her without a word was even worse. He gave up completely, trying to find some way to get in touch with her, telling her he was sorry and that he loved her. Then fear overwhelmed him. He was scared that it wouldn’t do. His mind raced in circles as he waited for what ever was to happen. Not even once did he consider the danger of his physical situation. It was nothing compared to the prospect of living without her.
Finally steps climbed the stairs again. The door opened and someone approached. He felt tender fingers working on the padlock, then using the key to unlock the handcuffs. The strap pulling his elbows back was released, letting blood flow back into his arms, causing a new, stinging pain. Then the steps went away again, leaving the attic for the floor below. He laid dead still waiting for the intense pain of the returning blood to leave his arms. He was sore and stiff, hardly able to move at first. Then slowly he managed to get the three leather belts unbuckled. With trembling fingers he slowly unlaced the hood and freed himself of the gag. His jaws hurt as he tried to swallow, making it hard to even close the mouth. He unbuckled the straps around his legs and spread them slowly to wake them up again.
When he finally got up and went to the stairs, he staggered down one step at the time. With great effort he stepped into the upper hallway and looked around. The house was dark, only a dim light from his home office fell into the hallway. Slowly and without purpose he went in direction of the light, hoping to find a good cognac for comfort. At the threshold he stopped, looking in wonder in front of him. In the armchair sat his wife, with eyes swollen from crying, her hair still in a mess from the bondage and her naked body carelessly wrapped in a silk robe. She looked at him and their eyes met for a long silent time. Then she spoke:
"I love you. I want to live with you. But you must never ever shut me out again. What ever the matter, you must treat me as I’m worth and talk to me…"
He nodded slowly, his chest threatening to explode by the relief he felt.
"We did each other wrong up there" she continued, "though the bondage was good."
She gave him a sad smile and whispered:
"Want to talk about it?"