Friday, December 12, 2008

After a long hiatus, I am returning to (hopefully) complete the saga of Sarah and Annie.
~ Sarah
Go to Sarah's Profile

Tuesday, October 14, 2008


Without adversity there is no self-knowledge.

1. Silk and Satin

My best friend at university was a girl named Annabel, whom everyone called Annie. During our undergraduate years, we were roommates. Before starting uni, I had led a rather sheltered life and was more than a little naïve. Annie, by contrast, was very much a woman-of-the-world, sophisticated, uninhibited. She was beautiful and popular, knew where all the best parties were happening, wore the trendiest clothes. Undoubtedly, she had belonged to that caste of cool kids whom I had admired and envied from afar in school; but she was also smart and funny and gracious and sensitive. We got on well as roomies, and in short order we became close friends. It was most definitely an opposites-attract friendship; but with the passage of time we began to absorb some of each other’s qualities. We celebrated good times together, helped each other through the bad times. We told each other our deepest secrets and shared our darkest fantasies.

Annie seemed to have a steady stream of boyfriends, but none of her relationships lasted very long. There was nothing wrong with her, or with the guys she dated. However, the only really serious things in each of our lives were our friendship and our studies. We were both honours students; and I discovered that Annie truly was a fast and efficient learner when I introduced her to the world of bondage.

It was late on a Friday night. We were both dateless – by choice – lounging on the sofa in our pyjamas, sipping hot cocoa. Annie looked like a playgirl in her short, sleek, satin chemise, like Pollyanna in her pink fluffy bunny slippers. She was like that, a paradox. She was cute as a button but she laughed like a loon, and when she did, she’d fling her head back and her long, wavy tresses flounced across her shoulders in golden cascades. As well as hair to die for, she had legs and a body I would kill for. Yet the amazing thing was that she didn’t care. Annie was one of the least self-conscious and least self-involved people I have ever known. That’s why she was happy to spend a Friday night at home with her best friend and a mug of cocoa.

I told her about all the tie-up games I’d played over the years. Her initial reaction was predictable. “I’m not into that sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?” I asked.

“SM, submission...”

I cut her off with a finger over her lips. I knew I couldn’t explain it with words. Sometimes you can only teach by showing. So I said to her, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, sweetie.”

“I want to tie you up.”

She gave me a quizzical look but shrugged her shoulders and nodded her head. Neither of us had to say anything more. She sat and watched me, intrigued but unperturbed, as I went to my bedroom. I returned with a small bundle which I dropped onto the coffee table. I studied her eyes as she examined the little pile of satin ribbons and silk scarves. I saw curiosity, uncertainty and a hint of excitement, as it quickly dawned on her why I owned this collection. She looked up at me with an almost childlike “What now?” expression.

I took up one of the ribbons, and Annie held out her arms. I just smiled and silently gestured with a twirl of my hand. She understood, grinned sheepishly and turned away from me, sitting sideways on the sofa with one foot on the floor, the other folded under her. Hesitantly, she put her hands behind her back. I gently took hold of her wrists and crossed them, then wound the ribbon around four times, decussate-style. It was not very tight, until I tugged hard and Annie gasped in mild alarm. I gave her a few moments to absorb the experience, tensing and stretching and twisting her arms to test the bonds. Then I looped another long strip just above her elbows.

This time she emitted a little “Oh!” sound.

“Too much?” I asked.

“No, don’t stop,” she said. I knew what she was going through. There is the feeling of utter helplessness, as your arms are rendered completely immobile. For a girl, there is also the delightful effect of your shoulders being pulled back and your chest pushed out. Nevertheless, I did not make it too stringent, because she would not be used to the delicious discomfort of a full-strength elbow tie. Instead, I moved onto her feet.

I knelt in front of her, and Annie adjusted her position to face forward. I took off her slippers and placed them to one side. She put her ankles together and I tied them. As with her wrists, she moved her feet to tease the knot, but I had cinched it and she was rather surprised that she couldn’t wriggle free.

I stood up and stepped back, giving her another few moments to savour her bonds.

“What do you think?” I finally asked.

“Um, interesting,” was all she replied. She was so adorably vulnerable and awkward, such an unfamiliar look for Annie, that I knew I had to complete the job.

“Do you want to go on?”

She licked her upper lip thoughtfully, chewed her lower lip nervously, before simply nodding. I told her to turn on the sofa once more, so I could sit behind her. As I drew the silk scarf over her eyes, she jerked backwards, just a little, but she said nothing as I secured the knot. She moved her head about, as if testing the efficacy of her blindfold. She giggled.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing, sweetie. It’s just...” Her voice trailed off into that speechless realm where there are sensations and emotions you cannot express because you’ve never felt them before and so never had to put them into words.

I caressed her bare shoulders. Her skin was as cool and smooth and soft as her exquisite chemise. I fondled her luxuriant golden hair and sniffed its delicate fragrance. I felt her shiver, saw her breathing quicken and her breasts heave under the sheer, lucid fabric. She clenched her fists and flexed her arms. She knew what was coming.

As I folded one of the scarves into a wad, I told her that we should have a safe signal. She didn’t need further explanation, and we agreed that crossing the fingers of both hands would suffice. When I was ready to insert the gag, I brushed it lightly across her lips to get her used to its texture. I waited until she was ready, and when she opened her mouth I pushed it in as tenderly as I could, leaving enough for her to clamp her teeth into. That way, only the front part of her mouth was packed with the silk. She was not accustomed to a gag, and it was important to make sure that any choking reflex did not turn into panic.

I wrapped another scarf around her head, over her mouth so she couldn’t work the gag loose and spit it out. She was making muffled, whimpering noises and I checked her fingers. They weren’t crossed. I pushed gently but firmly on her arms. She understood and lay down upon her left side on the couch, facing outwards. She was panting quite rapidly now. Her knees were drawn up almost as far as her chest. Wanting to see the entirety of my work, I grasped her feet and straightened her legs until she was lying at full stretch. She flinched when she felt my hands on her thighs, but I was just pulling at the hem of her dress, which had ridden upwards when she curled up. Although we were alone, I owed her that dignity.

There were other things I could have done to Annie; but I felt that this was enough, at least for her first time. I sat on the floor next to her and stroked her hair again, as she slowly settled into the zone – that dreamy state of both arousal and serenity, in which the whole of your existence shrinks down to your own body. When I am bound and gagged and blindfolded, deprived of all movement in and most perception of the world around me, I feel not helpless but incredibly self-reliant, imprisoned and yet liberated. I wanted to give Annie time to feel it too.

However, I didn’t wait to see her fingers crossed. When finally I released her, there was a mug of fresh cocoa, a soothing hand and reassuring words to bring her back from the zone. She sat in silence for a long time, just looking at me. There were tiny beads of perspiration on her cheeks and forehead. Her hands were fidgety, as if attuning to their recovered freedom. Her knees were pressed together, and she kept smoothing out any creases which shortened her dress by even a fraction. Her lips wrinkled into a timid smile. A long time later, she uttered a single word.


After that, she was hooked. It was rather strange that I of all people would be showing Annie of all people a new sensual experience. What happened next, though, was inevitable. The student surpassed the teacher.

2. The Boyfriend

At the time we both began our postgraduate studies, Annie moved into her own apartment. It was modest enough but luxurious for a postgrad. I suspected she had a sugar-daddy keeping her, until she confessed that it belonged to her parents; though she insisted on paying rent. She wanted me to move in. With regret I declined, since it was located well off-campus and the nature of my research required me to be in the lab several times a day. However, we remained best friends. In fact, without the stresses and tensions that go with sharing a room, we drew even closer.

I was aware that, since that first night, Annie had become very much devoted to erotic bondage. While the experiences she described to me were typically “vanilla” – not much more extreme than the games I had played for years – I suspected that she was exploring aspects of herself in places I had never dared to go. Indeed, her newfound passion brought out facets of Annie’s personality which I had rarely seen. When she spoke of her latest boyfriend, there was none of the disparaging tone she normally reserved for the current man in her life. In fact, she began saying things like: “I love it when he’s in control.” This was not the take-charge, no-nonsense Annie I’d come to know.

I just had to meet this new guy, and the opportunity arose when Annie rang me to move our weekly breakfast date up a couple of days.

I said that was fine and told her, “Why don’t you bring along your...?”

“Nick,” she said. “You’re allowed to say his name.”

“Why don’t you invite Nick? I want to meet the man who has my girl all aflutter.”

Her tenor changed. “I wouldn’t go that far.” Then she laughed. “But he does have me all tied up in knots.”

So we met at our regular sidewalk café, and my first impression was that Annie and Nick as a couple were a study in contrasts. She was pretty and pert in a bright yellow sundress. He was brooding and mysterious, clad in black, wearing those sinister mirrored sunglasses you see on prison-guards in the movies. Nevertheless, it was that attraction of opposites I’ve already mentioned which had made us friends in the first place. And anyway, Nick was handsome, with an arresting charm, a winning smile and, when he took off his menacing shades, expressive, luminous eyes. He was dark in complexion, with a carefully cultivated, permanent three-day growth. As he sat in silence, listening to our chatter, his face bore an opaque, almost blank expression; and yet when he began talking, he became quite animated; and his words revealed a man of intelligence and wit. I could see why Annie had fallen for him.

He was about our age, but he had the bearing of someone much older, worldly but not cynical, self-confident but not conceited, proud though not arrogant. He wasn’t physically imposing, being slight of build and no taller than Annie, but he had a commanding presence. Authority seemed to radiate from him; and when she was with him, Annie was a different person. One moment she would be the adoring acolyte, the next minute she’d be serious and pensive, then she’d be acting like a giggling schoolgirl.

Nick had arrived a few minutes after Annie and I were already settled. Before taking his seat, he bent over her and gave her a long, passionate kiss. He put a hand on her knee and ran it up her thigh, under her dress, where it lingered until he sat down. Annie came out of the kiss flushed and flustered. She blushed even more when she saw my look; but there was a playful glint in her eyes. Watching them, from across the table I could sense Nick’s power. Sitting there bathed in sunlight, under his deadpan stare, I felt a cold shiver pass along my spine; and as his penetrating gaze moved down my body, I felt a peculiar tingling inside me.

Nick said, out of the blue, “So, you’re the little minx who introduced my girl to bondage.”

I almost spat out my coffee. I cautiously looked around, but people at the neighbouring tables continued to ignore us. Annie appeared neither concerned nor surprised.

“Get to the point much?” I replied, when my voice returned. He just raised an eyebrow, and didn’t immediately follow up. Instead we engaged in small talk, some to-and-fro banter, as we circled one another, sizing each other up. When we returned to the subject, I told him of the tie-up games I had played since I was a little girl and described how they had evolved and matured. He told me that he’d begun tying up his sisters at an early age; they were older, which made him precocious – a term he used without sarcasm or irony. By his teenage years, he had graduated to tying girlfriends and (his own words) any female he could get his hands on. It was impossible to tell if he was kidding.

When he reached the present day, he clasped Annie’s hand and they gave each other another affectionate kiss. During the conversation, she had said nothing. She followed Nick’s every word with an attentive, revering expression which laid bare without the need for words how besotted she was. This was so unlike the Annie I thought I knew.

Nick turned back to me. “I owe you,” he said. “I’d like to return the favour.”

I looked at him. “What did you have in mind?”

“We can work something out,” was all he said.

Before I could push for details, Annie interjected. How odd that suddenly she was talkative; because for the next couple of minutes she hardly paused for breath. I don’t even remember what she said, only that every so often she cast a furtive glance towards Nick. His face had returned to the expressionless, unreadable state which so intrigued and unnerved me when we were introduced.

Nick insisted on paying for the coffee and croissants, and when he and Annie had departed, I sat for a few minutes thinking about what he had said. The next time I met with Annie, I interrogated her about her new boyfriend.

“You haven’t even told me what he does... is he a student?”

“Yes, he’s a freshman. We met at a party...”

“A freshman? What, are we slumming now?” I shook myself. “Oh God, I sound like such a snob.”

She just grinned. “No offence. He bummed around for a few years before deciding to start over. He’s quite proud of it. He tells me I’m his role model.”

“And his bondage model.”

“More like his canvas... Ooh-ah, that didn’t come out right. His... tableau.”

“Is that how you met?”

She rolled her eyes and giggled. “Believe it or not, when we were introduced we hated each other. Well, hate’s a strong word; but I thought he was pretentious and he found me – I dunno – a flibberty-gibbet.”

“So it was the ropes that brought you together?”

“Not entirely, but it helped.”

“For which you can thank me,” I reminded her.

“And so I shall.”

“What did you have in mind?” I said for the second time.

Annie’s face went serious and she looked at me for a full minute before responding. And that’s the moment my life changed.

There was a three-week vacation coming up. Annie and I had been planning to spend some of that time together, as we usually did. We both had jobs waitressing at a restaurant on campus that closed down during vacation periods, so we didn’t have to worry about work. I was thinking about a couple of weeks of sun, surf and sand. Annie wasn’t.

“Nick has a friend... no, don’t give me that look. Let me finish. His friend has a property, out in the country. He said we can use it for a week.”

“He’s a farmer?”

“Well, it’s a hobby. He’s an architect with one of the big city firms.”

“Where will your friend be?”

“Nick’s friend, not mine; and I don’t know... I don’t get told this stuff.”

That was an odd thing for Annie to say, and it was still odder that she quickly caught herself.

“What I mean is, all I know is that the place will be vacant. Are you interested?”

I didn’t answer straight away, and it was her turn to give me a funny look.

“You don’t have a fella, do you?”

“No, I’m between men at the moment. And don’t you even think about trying to hitch me up.”

“It will just be the three of us.” Her wicked grin jolted me.

“Don’t you dare say it!”

“Say what?” she replied.


“Never entered my mind,” she smiled, innocently.

The rest of our conversation continued like this. The upshot is that I agreed, perhaps against my better judgement; but I trusted Annie and I liked what I had seen so far in Nick. In fact, my respect for him had grown by the next time I saw him, because he had moved into her apartment. He was flat broke and she paid the rent. Yet far from diminishing him, in my estimation it made him better. It takes a strong man to set aside manly pride like that. In any case, they were able to joke about it.

“I pay her in trade,” he explained.

Or maybe he wasn’t joking.

We met for a restaurant dinner a couple of weeks later. The establishment was just around the corner from Annie’s place, so we walked home afterwards, in the cold night air. I was wearing a rather flimsy dress and Nick promised to keep me warm. I thought he was going to offer me his coat, but instead he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close in to his side. His other arm was around Annie, and as we strolled leisurely towards the apartment, I felt his hand move down my back until it rested on my bottom. I didn’t say anything, but I started to regret my remark about the threesome.

Once indoors, Annie and I retired to the kitchen to make coffee.

“He’s very affectionate,” I said.

She laughed. “That’s his way.”

“It’s who he wants his way with that concerns me.”

She just laughed again as she filled the cups.

We drank our coffee in the living room. Nick was seated in a large armchair, across the room from me on the sofa. Annie was sitting on the carpet next to him, her head resting on his knees. Every so often he tenderly patted her head and she looked up at him with adoring, puppy-dog eyes. Once we’d finished the coffee, she took the cups into the kitchen; and when she returned, without a word, took off her jeans and knelt in the middle of the floor, facing away from Nick. Her head was bowed; her knees were together and her hands were behind her back, palms on her buttocks. Neither she nor he moved or spoke; but when nothing happened after a minute or two, Annie looked up at me. She winked, and she tilted her head in that coy, coquettish, come-hither manner which says more than mere words can express.

Nick did not have to do or say anything. That was his power. I felt it and I understood Annie’s infatuation.

“Oh, what the hell,” I said at last. So I knelt on the floor beside Annie, adopting a similar pose. Nick started with me. I wasn’t sure what he was using to bind me, and only later did I discover that they were silk ropes, ribbons and scarves, like those I had used on Annie that first time.

Nick’s technique was to begin slowly and gently and to gradually increase the intensity. He alternated between Annie and me, giving us time to fully appreciate each stage of the process before progressing to a more stringent one. He was leisurely and deliberate, extracting every sensation, making us know every strand of the rope, feel every knot tightening. When he tied my elbows, he started off with a few slack loops, taking his time so that the rope at first just caressed my skin. As he gradually drew it taut, I felt the pressure slowly grow, as my shoulders were pressed backwards and my chest swelled outwards. It was one of my most sensuous tie-up experiences because it happened at such a measured, unhurried pace. But there was something more to this. It was also his way of exercising total control, of attaining my complete and willing surrender.

He stripped Annie naked but left me in my dress. That didn’t stop him applying a very intimate breast tie and a crotch-rope that he positioned with care to ensure that my every movement sent waves of arousal through me. He put me in a hog-tie so strict that my knees were off the floor and my body arched backwards. He had attached a neck-rope to my wrists and ankles, but also a shoulder harness, done with such expertise that there was just enough torsion that it felt that I was about to choke but with no danger of it happening. I should have been hurting, but the thrill and the stimulation channelled the pain into pleasure.

Nick took Annie in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Much later, they emerged. Annie was still nude, her hands still bound behind her back. She was now blindfolded as well. He freed me from the hog-tie and released my feet. He ordered me to roll over so I was face up, and to spread my legs. Annie knelt between them.

3. The Night Before

Annie and I never spoke about that night in the apartment. We didn’t need to. At first I thought that this was what she and Nick had meant by repaying me, but they had talked about a week in the country; and when we three met for breakfast a few days later, the topic came up again.

“Still interested?” Nick asked.

“Of course,” I responded. That was all there was to it.

We arranged that I would spend the night before our departure at Annie’s place so we could make an early start. I arrived at the apartment just as it was getting dark, and Nick greeted me at the door with a glass of wine and a peck on the cheek. He took my bag and deposited it in a corner of the living room. In private, he had shed most of his dark-menace persona. Dressed in a neat pair of slacks and a collared shirt, he looked almost... urbane!

I heard Annie’s voice from the kitchen, greeting me and telling Nick to pour me a wine.

“Done,” he called back.

“Have you offered her an hors d’oeuvre?”

“About to, love.”

Good grief, I thought. This is like a scene from the Twilight Zone – a parallel dimension in which Nick has become domesticated and Annie makes hors d’oeuvres. I started to believe it was play-acting when she came out of the kitchen wearing a frilly apron over her dress. However, she caught my incredulous look and said, apologetically, “Don’t judge me. I don’t get to play hostess very often.”

Nevertheless, she was being very housewifey. She went back to her cooking and set the table. Nick was trying to be helpful in his own way – too helpful, because eventually she ordered him to “Go away! Make yourself useful with Sarah.”

She could have phrased that better, but Nick poured me another wine. I had also offered to assist and was shooed off; so Nick and I sat in the living room, engaged in polite conversation about nothing special. I felt I was slipping farther into that alternative reality; but the fun really started when the meal had been laid out on the table ready to be eaten. Annie emerged from the kitchen to join us. She had shed her apron... and her dress. She took her seat wearing just her bra and panties. Nick gave her an approving look, then turned towards me. He said nothing. I said nothing.

It was Annie who broke the silence. “Oh, go on,” she urged.

I don’t know whether it was the atmosphere or my two glasses of wine, but I just shrugged and sighed, unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it off my shoulders. Without getting up from my chair, I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans, and worked them down my legs until they lay in a forlorn heap around my ankles. Then we ate dinner.

I have done stuff a lot more exotic than sitting at the table in my underwear. Even so, there was something weird – not creepy, but definitely weird – about how not exotic it felt. We casually ate our meal, and we swapped idle chat, and Nick carried on as if there was nothing unusual about having dinner with two young women clad in just their undies. Maybe that was the point.

After dessert, we retired to the living room. I left my shirt and jeans on the dining table. We talked for a long while. Finally, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, Annie looked at me and then turned to Nick.

“Can you be tying us up now?”

Just like that, Nick told us to stand facing him. He ordered us to strip each other. Annie did not hesitate. She stood behind me and unfastened my bra. I let her slip it off my shoulders and down my arms. She crouched and slowly drew my knickers down my legs until I was able to step out of them. My embarrassment was directed into payback as I wrenched Annie’s bra from her with such force that she staggered backwards and gasped. Nick grinned and gave me an encouraging nod of the head. I yanked her panties down.

Standing there in all my bare-skinned glory, I felt a strange mix of humiliation and excitement, trepidation and bravado. He made us stand there, at attention, staring straight ahead, uttering not a sound, so long that I grew impatient for the ropes. I thought at first he was just enjoying the sight of our nude bodies, maybe assessing and comparing us. Then I imagined he was trying to induce a reaction from me. Only after a long, long time did I realize what he was up to. Like the slow, deliberate way he had tied us up that other night, he was giving us time to savour our nudity, to appreciate his scrutiny of our every curve and crevice.

Nick was a master of manipulation; and I don’t mean that in the negative sense, but rather like a highly skilled masseur, able to fashion and mould our perception. It sounds almost mystical, the way he was able to reshape my experience, turning pain into pleasure, embarrassment into pride. He was like the sculptor who never needs to carve the stone, who allows the art to emerge from the block. In the same way, by demanding from me an act of humble submission, he gave me the confidence and the strength to draw from a well of my innermost desires.

For the first time ever, being tied up was almost an anti-climax. As he did the first time, when we were bound and helpless, Nick took Annie to the bedroom and had his way with her. When he returned to the living room, he returned alone. He released me from the hog-tie but kept my hands and feet bound. He did, however, loosen the ropes slightly, for proper blood circulation – a signal that I was going to be bound for the rest of the night.

“Now I’m going to put you to bed with Annie.” He saw my eyes widen so he quickly continued in a more reassuring voice. “I’m sleeping on the sofa.”

He carried me into the bedroom and put me on the bed beside Annie. He placed me lying on my back, on top of my bound arms, and I wondered if I was going to have to stay that way. But he made his motive clear as he drew the sheet up over the two of us, very slowly, so I could feel its delicate caress moving up my legs, over my belly and across my breasts. Only after he had pulled up a blanket did I turn onto my stomach. He kissed Annie and reached under the covers to fondle her until she was panting, and then he left, leaving us together in the darkness.

Annie’s breathing took some time to return to normal, and then we talked for a while, in whispers because Nick had ordered us, like we were little girls, to go straight to sleep.

It was at least an hour before dawn when I awoke. I looked out the window and not a glimmer lit the eastern horizon. Annie was still asleep, lying on her side facing towards me. She was quietly moaning. I realized she was dreaming, and I could imagine what she was dreaming about.

I needed to go to the bathroom but I didn’t want to disturb her. So as gently I could, I wriggled to the edge of the bed, sat up and put my feet on the floor. I stood up – it took me several times with my hands tied behind my back, and each time when I fell back onto the mattress I heard Annie stir; but she didn’t wake. I hopped, with small jumps so as not to make a noise, to the door, faced away and somehow managed to turn the knob, by twisting with my body. I continued my bunny-hop to the bathroom, only to realize that I had no way of switching on the light. So instead I felt my way to the pedestal, hobbling painstakingly, using my hips to guide me along the wall and past the shower cubicle. And somehow it didn’t surprise me that Nick was the sort of guy who left the seat up, and so it took some bending and flexing to get it down without dropping it and causing a racket.

I had left the bathroom door open and got a horrid shock when a blaze of light erupted in the doorway. Fortunately, there were no more surprises, and Nick greeted me in the living room.

“Good morning,” he said cheerily. “Hope you slept well.” He was still in the clothes he had worn the previous evening, now crumpled from a night on the sofa. Otherwise, he looked disgustingly spry.

“Fine thanks,” I grumbled.


“Yes please.”

I was standing naked, bound hand and foot, in front of my best friend’s boyfriend, and all I could think about was my morning dose of caffeine. I hopped after him into the kitchen and, the coffee made, he held the cup to my lips and allowed me a few sips. He didn’t offer to untie me and I didn’t ask him to.

A few minutes later, Annie came hopping out of the bedroom, looking as bedraggled as I must have, and still blindfolded. She mumbled a greeting as she passed us on the way to the bathroom, feeling her away along the wall and bumping – with a loud curse – into a piece of furniture along the way. Nick followed her, and I said nothing. I was more concerned that I had to wait for him to return for my next mouthful of coffee. When he came back, he had Annie slung over his shoulder. He dumped her, quite brusquely, on the kitchen floor, and she muttered something profane.

My only reaction was to say “More coffee please.”

Nick untied us only so we could prepare breakfast. We were forbidden to put our clothes on; and after we’d eaten, we had to shower together, as Nick watched. In fact, he helpfully gave directions, telling us which parts needed more lathering and where to scrub; then he made us dry each other off. I probably would have done so anyway. I was born to be a showgirl.

It was still before sunrise when we were ready to go. Nick had gone off to shower and change clothes, but instructed us to remain naked. Then he turned to me with a most serious expression.

“You still want to go through with this?” he asked.

“Of course,” was all I answered.

“I think you’ll enjoy what we’ve got in store. But you must promise to behave, to be a good girl, and in return I expect complete, unquestioning obedience.”

That was certainly an odd way of putting it, with total submission my reward for good behaviour. However, it was Annie who uttered the key phrase. “Are you game?”

How could I resist those three magic words?

“There will be no safe words, nothing like that,” Nick went on. “You will be totally under my control. Every so often, I will give you a chance to stop, but it will be at my discretion alone. Do you understand?”


“Say it. We all need to hear it.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good girl,” Nick said.

“It’ll be fun. You will love it,” Annie spoke as if she knew this from experience.

But then my attention was diverted to the coffee table. On it was a small pile of objects – leather collars, cuffs for both wrists and ankles, red ball-gags, black blindfolds and an assemblage of small gauge chains. Nick ordered us to kneel on the sofa, facing the wall, hands behind our backs. He put leather cuffs on my wrists. Connected to each was a small catch, with which he fastened the bracelets together. I hadn’t much familiarity with wearing handcuffs and I was rather pleased with the effect. Nonetheless they were tight, and I had to lift my hands into the small of my back to ease the strain. He put another set of cuffs on my ankles but did not join them. He placed the collar around my neck. It was well-crafted, mostly rigid but with soft edges, so it didn’t chafe. He secured a chain about my waist and attached my wrists to it. He wrapped the blindfold around my head and knotted it. I knew that the gag was coming next, but before I could open my mouth he pinched one of my nipples, making me squeal. As I did so he pushed the ball between my teeth. He didn’t need to do that, and in fact it was the first time he had touched any of my female parts except in the normal course of tying me up. It was his way of establishing his dominance over me, and it worked.

I stayed in position until Annie was ready as well. Only then, once the initial thrill had worn off, did it occur to me that we had to go outside the house, to get to the car – naked, bound, gagged, blindfolded. However, it was still dark, and from the lack of sound I could tell that the street was deserted. Nick guided me to the driveway and helped me into the back seat. It was Annie’s car, which I knew had tinted windows – a great reassurance. Annie slid in beside me. Nick thoughtfully buckled our seatbelts. He then disappeared for a couple of minutes; and I hoped it was to load the bag containing my clothing and other bits and pieces.

We were taking an incredible risk. What if we were stopped by the police? What if we had an accident? What if I got carsick? What if I needed to go...? There was no point in worrying about these things now. It was too late. I could still have backed out of this, if only by putting up a struggle to let Nick know that I’d had enough. But I did not, and our fate now lay in his hands. In fact, the perils of our journey excited me, with that telltale tingling inside me.

4. A Stroll in the Country

During the long drive, Nick said hardly a word. He played music and concentrated on his driving. Behind him, Annie and I did the best we could to make ourselves comfortable. I had to sit slightly forward on the seat to ease the pressure on my shackled arms. The leather upholstery felt slick and cold and clingy against the bare skin of my bottom and thighs. It was a queerly erotic sensation, intensified by the wobbling and swaying of my unfettered breasts in tune with the movements of the car. Next to me, I could hear Annie’s breath rasping through her gag.

The rhythmic motions of the car, in company with my blindfold, had a soporific effect, and I must have dozed off, because I had no real sense of time having passed when a sudden change in tempo brought me back to consciousness. After a sharp turn, the steady rumble of the wheels changed abruptly to the crunching of pebbles under tyres and the scraping of low-slung tree branches across the roof of the car. We travelled on for some distance across a rough track before the engine cut out and we rolled to a halt. When Nick opened his door, I could hear the chirping of crickets, far-off bird-calls and the rustling of leaves in the wind, but no traffic sounds and nothing else to indicate the presence of any human life other than ourselves.

“Here we are,” Nick informed us, as if it could be otherwise. He opened my door, gripped my arm and half assisted, half dragged me out of the car. I stood on a dirt surface, apparently the side of the road, because when I took a small step backwards, I felt the tickling of long grass on my legs. I revelled in the sunshine, warm and soothing, on my skin. Scents of the countryside wafted over my body on a gentle breeze.

I had no idea what was coming next; and I jumped, literally, when I felt Nick’s hands on my shoulders. He was rubbing and massaging my skin, and when he had worked his way down my arms, he began on my torso. I flinched when his hands kneaded my breasts, cringed as they passed over my belly and into my crotch, relaxed a little as they progressed down my legs all the way to my feet. The shock didn’t last, because from the faintly metallic smell I knew he was applying sunscreen lotion. Still, it was unsettling to have those unfamiliar hands in my most intimate places. It also meant that I would be naked for some time yet.

Nick, I had already learnt, was very good at strategic pauses, taking his time to do things to make us feel completely the experience. He took his time with me, and he took his time with Annie. Unable to see, feeling vulnerable and edgy, I tried to focus my remaining faculties, to make sense of my surroundings. Then he took off our blindfolds.

We were standing near the summit of a long, moderately sloping ridge. To my front, the ground fell away in mild undulations, into a small valley flanked by rolling hills and jagged, truncated spurs. It was mostly grass meadow, dotted with a few trees and raggedy shrubs, strewn with boulders and outcrops of dark basalt. The creek which had carved the valley was revealed and concealed by a meandering ribbon of lush green. Halfway along, nestled in a bend, the roof of a farmhouse peeked through the treetops. The view was rather hazy – I was still blinking to adjust my eyes to the sunlight, and a mist was lifting out of the valley – so it was hard to judge the distance; but it looked to be two or three hours’ walk away. With mounting unease, I realized that I was about to find out for sure.

Standing there in the open, I felt even more exposed without my blindfold. I looked back towards Annie’s car and then out across the fields. One offered sanctuary, the other promised adventure. In the end, I am what I am, and it was not a difficult choice – presuming Nick allowed me to make it.

While I was preoccupied with my thoughts, Nick had gone back to the car. He returned with another length of chain and a two leather straps. He attached the chain to Annie’s collar, long enough to reach down to her waist. He took hold of the free end and used it to guide her to a position directly in front of me, so we were facing each other. My heart sank a little when he secured it to a catch on my collar. Annie and I stared into each other’s eyes. I studied her face. She was slightly flushed, and her brow was sweaty. She was breathing heavily through her gag. Dribble leaked from the corners of her mouth, trickled down her chin and dripped onto her naked breasts. She looked haggard, and apprehensive, and excited, and incredibly sexy. No doubt so did I.

Annie and I continued to stare at each other, linked by the chain less than an arm’s length apart, as Nick worked on us. He took the chain from my waist, crouched down and secured it to my ankle cuffs. There was just enough slack that I could walk with small steps. He did the same to Annie. He took one of the straps and tied it to Annie’s collar. He ran it down her front, between her legs and behind her, fastening it to her wrists. He pulled on it. She gasped through her gag and her eyes widened almost comically. The strap was tight enough that she had to stoop slightly to ease the pressure on her tender parts. He did the same to me. He stood alongside us. I looked away, but he placed one hand on my shoulder and one on Annie’s. He squeezed until I gave him my direct attention.

“Are you still okay with this?” he demanded to know.

Unable to speak, I lowered my gaze and nodded my head. I glanced up at Annie. She rolled her eyes, exhaled impatiently and proudly past the red ball clamped between her jaws, and nodded vigorously.

“You will be on your own,” he warned. “I won’t be there to help you. It should take you at last a couple of hours,” he continued, pointing towards the floor of the valley, at the farmhouse among the trees. “I’ll be waiting for you there.”

Leaving us to reflect on his words, Nick went back to the car once more. This time he brought a water bottle. He took off my gag and draped it over my shoulder, and held the bottle to my lips. I gulped down as much as I could, knowing it would be my last chance for a drink for many hours.

“You have got to be kidding!” Annie exclaimed when Nick tossed the empty water bottle towards the car and held up our gags in front of our mouths. It was the first thing either of us had spoken since she’d told me in her apartment that this would be fun. And it probably inspired Nick, because with a wicked grin he switched gags, pushing mine past Annie’s protesting lips, and hers past mine. I could taste her on it as he buckled it in place.

“It’s time,” Nick said. He gave Annie a hug, kissed her forehead and her breasts, tugged on her crotch-rope to make sure it was properly positioned, and gave her a playful slap on her bare backside. He stroked my hair, brushed a leaf off my shoulders, adjusted my gag slightly so the strap wasn’t biting into my skin, and gave me a playful slap on my bare backside. I stared straight ahead, into Annie’s eyes. She wasn’t staring back but past my head, with a pensive expression. Since I was looking out over the valley, she must have been gazing wistfully towards her car, our last refuge of safety and security.

Nick took hold of Annie by her hips and swivelled her around so we were standing side by side. This drew the chain linking our collars taut and shortened the distance between us, so that our shoulders touched. He was pointing again.

“See that fence?” I discerned a broken row of posts and railings protruding from the grass. “If you follow it all the way, it will take you directly to the farmhouse. It’s basically a straight line.”

Yet I could see that it was not going to be so simple. In two places, a stripe of greenery intersected the fence-line, which indicated a creek crossing. There were no doubt other, less obvious obstacles and hazards.

“You will need to co-operate, work together. You’ll both do just great. I think you’ll enjoy the bonding experience.” He left us for another moment, to consider his words. I heard the car door open and shut. “If you get into any trouble,” he said on his return, “just sit down where you are. Don’t move. I’ll be watching you.”

He held up a pair of binoculars. That was it. No more instructions, no more warnings or reassurances.

“Move out,” he said.

We took our first, tentative steps. The dry grass and leaf litter crunched and crackled underfoot. Beneath it, the soil was parched and rock-hard. We had to be careful in our bare feet, but only a very occasional sharp stick caused any damage. We quickly established a rhythm, halting and jerky though it was. The chain which linked our collars wasn’t a problem so long as we stayed close together, our shoulders touching. Our ankle chains, however, made very effective hobbles, forcing us to take only small paces, and since they made it impossible to step over any but the tiniest obstacles, each time we encountered an obstruction we had to stop and work our way around it. Every so often the chain would catch on something, bringing one of us close to tripping. At one point, Annie did stumble and ended up on her knees, pulling me down as well. Fortunately, we did not fall over completely, since it would have been very difficult getting upright again, the way we were. I did not fancy twenty minutes of rolling about in the grass, with my arms bound, tethered to Annie.

Our progress consisted largely of alternating two steps forwards and two steps sideways – so we sort of zig-zagged our way down the long slope. By trial and error, we devised a series of gurgling and growling sounds to communicate – “ng-ng” meaning “slow down”, “gh-gh” for “watch out”, “k-k” for “follow my lead” and so on. Otherwise, Annie was humming through her gag – show tunes no less.

The sun was in its midmorning position, already beating down with enough intensity to make me grateful for the sunscreen, as there were no trees along the fence-line to offer shade. Clouds scudded intermittently across its face, and a constant breeze fanned the grass and leaves, so on the whole the temperature was mild enough. I was more worried about snakes and ticks... and of course about the chances of some farmer or field hand or hiker coming across us and getting the shock of his (or her) life. Every so often, we paused to scan the countryside, but it soon became obvious that we were completely alone. I began to realize that we were probably already on Nick’s friend’s property.

Nevertheless, I froze in sudden terror as a loud rustling noise emanated from a clump of tall shrubs about a hundred metres away. Instinctively, I turned towards Annie, to see momentary panic in her eyes before a smile curled around her ruby red ball-gag. The plump, honey-brown forms of several Jersey cows emerged from the thicket and ambled across the meadow. One stopped to stare across the field at us, ruminating calmly, before heading off to follow the herd. Annie and I looked at each other, with mutually raised eyebrows – stark naked, chained and gagged, sweating and panting.

“Silly cow,” I thought.

The beast regarded me with a mournful stare.

“I don’t mean you,” I thought.

Pretty soon, though, another issue arose. As we progressed, my crotch-rope began to do its job. Each step that I took increased the stimulation, as the strap worked its way into my cleft and rubbed methodically against my most sensitive spot. To ease the pressure and reduce the friction, I had to stoop slightly and push my arms downward, which made our shuffling all the more difficult. Still, it was better than negotiating the trail to the farmhouse in the throes of a bursting orgasm.

When we came to the first creek crossing, I wasn’t sure how we were going to pull it off. It was only a few steps wide and the water no more than knee-deep, but the banks were slippery and lined with dense undergrowth. Annie hesitated, almost ready to concede defeat; but when I turned and saw the reassuring glint of Nick’s binoculars, I looked for a way across. Just downstream was a narrow, cattle-trodden muddy track, not much more than a shallow rut but enough to give us an unimpeded passage to the water’s edge. We carefully manoeuvred ourselves along the path and across the creek. The water was freezing cold, and the bed of pebbles was hard under my bare feet; but we stayed upright, and as we hauled ourselves up the far bank Annie blurted out a muffled but unmistakeable shout of triumph.

We continued our epic journey to the farmhouse. The second creek was a more formidable obstacle, but we were now brimming with confidence. However, Annie lost her footing on the slimy surface and, unable to catch herself with her arms bound, fell, bringing me down as well. As we staggered to our feet and stumbled out of the water, blood was running down the shin of her right leg. She didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t seem to care.

And then, looming in the distance, was the stand of trees which surrounded the farmhouse. Our last barrier was a fence running perpendicular to the one we had been following, with a locked gate. The railings were sufficiently spaced for us to squeeze through, but it required planning – hard enough with our gags – and some skilful manipulation on account of our neck and ankle chains. It took maybe half an hour of laborious manipulation, and I would have proud of our effort if the whole thing wasn’t so ludicrous. In the meantime, I had lost sight of Nick, who’d been following us at a distance.

Past the gate, Annie and I rested, although there was now nothing between us and the farmhouse. We looked at each other and I had to laugh at what I saw – and what she saw back. Naked, begrimed and lathered in sweat, collared and chained together, red ball-gags stuffing our mouths, saliva dribbling onto our bare breasts, arms shackled behind our backs, feet hobbled, leather crotch-ropes embedded in our genitalia, faces flushed in humiliation and pride.

Suddenly, Annie’s eyes widened – a look of frantic horror. I spun around, in doing so yanking our neck chain and almost dragging us both to the ground. As I recovered my balance, I found myself standing face-to-face with a stranger. He was tall and handsome, in a weather-beaten fashion, and appeared to be in his late twenties. He was dressed incongruously in Wellington boots and an expensive business suit. He didn’t seem startled to see us, but rather amused. He looked us over, sparing no part of our bodies, while Annie and I just stood there, helpless. He grinned and nodded with approval. Then he lifted his head to look past us.

“You’ve brought gifts,” he said.

5. David’s Place

I relaxed a little when I heard Nick chuckle, but he never spoke, and I turned my attention back to the stranger.

The man reached out and thrust a hand between my breasts, grabbing the strap which ran down from my neck to my crotch and between my legs to my wrists. With his other hand, he seized Annie’s. He drew us towards him until I felt his hot breath ruffling the strands of sweat-plastered hair on my forehead; then he began backing up, towards the house, pulling us along with him. Frantically, both Annie and I swung our heads around to see if Nick was following; but he had disappeared from sight.

It was an old-fashioned farmhouse, weather-beaten, wanting re-roofing and a paint job, untidy and neglected – in need of a woman’s touch was all I could think of. Half a dozen steps led onto a broad veranda. The man led us along a gravel path – the sharp pebbles tickled between my toes, but a couple of hours of hobbling barefoot across open ground had inured me to such minor discomfort – and up the steps. With my ankles shackled, I took them slowly, while he brusquely tugged at my halter. Annie and I protested through our gags, but he just grinned at the incoherent noises we made.

When we were on the porch, he let go of the straps and ordered us to kneel. Without the use of my hands and with my ankles constrained, this was impossible to do without dropping onto my knees. The impact with the wooden boards sent a shock of pain up my thighs. Annie, however, lost her balance and pitched forward. I didn’t have time to react as she hit the deck with a dull thud. The neck chain jerked and I toppled, bracing myself for the blow as my breasts and chin rammed onto the floor.

I was only stunned for a second, but I was annoyed with Annie – not because she had fallen, but because she was writhing and twisting beside me, as if trying to get up onto her knees. The neck chain caused me to move about as well, grating and grinding my sore breasts against the floorboards. Mercifully, the man planted his boot on her backside to stop her squirming.

“Be still,” he yelled, without contrition or compassion, and she just whimpered; but she settled down.

I heard him open the door. It wheezed and groaned on rusty hinges. He went inside, then came back out and crouched in front of where we lay on our bellies. He pushed a hand beneath my left shoulder and under my breastbone. He did the same with Annie and, with a single heave, he lifted us into the kneeling position. That took a lot of strength, but then he gently stroked my face and wiped a dab of saliva from the corner of my mouth. His fingers were not coarse like a farmer’s, and I remembered Nick saying he was an architect. I looked into his eyes. They were a greenish-grey, and they conveyed both tenderness and firmness. That may have been my imagination, but it is what David turned out to be.

I was more amazed by what he did next. He leaned forward until his shoulders were between Annie’s and my waists. He planted a hand on my backside, clenching a fistful of my bare flesh, and suddenly raised himself until he was standing upright, with his two bound, naked captives slung over his shoulders. He staggered just a bit, and I was terrified he would fall backwards, hurling me face-forward to the floor; but he steadied himself and carried us into the house. He had to manoeuvre sideways to get us through the doorway, then he took us through the kitchen – it was cluttered and rather dirty, looking very much unused – and into the living room. In contrast to the kitchen, this part of the abode was luxurious, with lush carpet and fine furniture. A large bookcase contained an impressive collection of volumes, and the corner bar held a comprehensive range of wines and liqueurs. Above the elegant fireplace hung a nude portrait of a strikingly beautiful woman, a brunette wearing a diamond-studded choker and tiara. She bore a striking, if feminine, resemblance to our host.

He set us down and left us there, lying on our stomachs and appreciating the soft, thick pile of the carpet. We could have sat up or even got to our feet; but there didn’t seem to be any point in doing so. I heard muted voices, one of them Nick’s, and it seemed like ages before the two men came into the room. For a long time they appeared to ignore us. They stood at the bar, poured drinks and discussed the vintage (or the brew or whatever it is connoisseurs discuss). After that, they sat side by side on the sofa, looking down at Annie and me. They weren’t saying anything. We were pointed towards them, but I could not raise my head high enough to see what they were up to. Finally, however, Nick spoke.

“This is my good friend David. Say hello, girls.”

Annie and I muffled a greeting through our gags, and for additional effect I wiggled my backside. That elicited a laugh.

“I like her,” David said.

“She’s yours,” Nick replied.

I gurgled an indignant protest. I wasn’t angry or afraid – after all, what did I think I was in for when I made myself a part of this? – but I was offended. How peculiar… prostrate, naked, bound and gagged on the floor, at the feet of my best friend’s boyfriend and a complete stranger, I was upset for my dignity!

Staring at David’s boots, I was startled when they suddenly moved. The two men got up, bent over us and unbuckled our gags. I sucked in a huge breath, licked my chapped and chafed lips, exercised my aching jaws.

“Don’t say a thing,” Nick commanded. “You will only speak up if you really need to. Understand?”

I nodded, staring at the base of the empty sofa.

“Welcome to my home,” David said. “As you saw when we came through, the kitchen doesn’t get much use. Hopefully, you’ll be taking care of that.”

As he was saying this, he crouched down beside me and lifted my feet until he had my legs in a hog-tie position. He bound my ankles to my wrists. My crotch-rope had been compelling me to arch my body slightly to relieve the strain, but now the pressure was reversed. The leather strap penetrated relentlessly deep into my crevices, front and back, evoking once again that queer combination of pain and pleasure. Beside me, Annie was grunting and moaning as the same was done to her.

“We’ll be here a week... unless you give it up and go home... which you can do at any time. We want this to be fun for all of us, you see.”

“You will be restrained for all that time,” Nick took over. “There won’t be a moment when you won’t have something – gag, blindfold, chains, or whatever...”

I did not even nod, but I was wondering about that “whatever.”

“There will be lots of playtime,” David continued, “some of it rather – uh – extreme. There will be rituals as well, and lots of other things to keep us entertained.”

“But there’s more,” Nick went on.

“Okay,” I thought, “here it comes.” I glanced towards Annie to see if she was reacting – in other words, to see if this was as news to her as it was to me. Her head was turned away, but she appeared to be nodding. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but her response seemed to indicate that there was nothing familiar here. Of course, neither of us said a word.

“Naturally, you have the right to stop the game at any time; but there’ll be a price.” Nick’s tenor changed. “You have to co-operate entirely. If either of you breaks the rules or disobeys any instruction, it’s over. We go home. Got it?”

Again I nodded. Annie made an “Mmm-ing” sound.

“Good girls.” Nick sounded pleased, with us and with himself.

I tested my bonds. It was a good, clean hog-tie. However, the crotch-rope was having its inevitable effect. I steeled my nerves. “I’m sorry, but I have to say something.”

I thought I heard a sharp intake of breath from one of the men.

“I need to pee.”

Both men laughed. For one fearsome second, I imagined they were laughing at me, that I was in trouble. Then I considered that I was lying immobilized on expensive carpet.

“Of course,” David responded. “I apologize...”

“No need to...” I stopped myself, remembering my orders.

Annie and I were released from our hog-ties. Nick and David helped us to our feet.

“Out through there, down the corridor and turn left.” David explained. “Wait a minute,” he added. I waited for him to remove my crotch-rope, but instead he held up our ball-gags. “Can’t have you girls gossiping as soon as you’re out of sight.”

Having practised and perfected our synchronised hobble over rough ground, we had no trouble negotiating the short passageway, past two bedrooms; but the cramped confines of the toilet cubicle presented a different challenge. Annie mumbled what sounded like “You first,” so I manoeuvred myself into position, and she had to bend over as I sat down. Being naked, I didn’t have to worry about getting my pants off, but that damnable crotch-rope was still in place, so I had to lean forward, forcing Annie even lower, staring straight into my lap. A few seconds later I felt blessed relief, but now I had something else to deal with – a wet leather strap wedged between my legs. An interesting thought dawned – drying leather shrinks. Oh goodie, I thought, this will be fun.

Annie and I changed positions. As we turned in the narrow space, our chests bumped. Her bare skin was hot and clammy, and she was so buzzed that I could feel, through her breasts, her heart beating furiously. We stared straight into each other’s eyes, and she had the strangest of looks – of defiance and fury and shame – like a wild beast being tamed.

Either her body was more supple than mine, or her crotch-rope was not as tight, because she managed, even with her hands pinioned behind her, to move it out of the way. Leaning over her, I had an excellent vantage point, and as I viewed the proceedings, my brain switched to flashback mode. This time yesterday, I was sitting in the physics department staff lounge, sipping coffee and organizing next semester’s lecture materials on my laptop. Could even I, with all my own unique experiences, have imagined that just twenty four hours later, even discharging bodily functions would become an adventure? I must have giggled at the thought, because Annie gave me another odd look – “What’s so funny about watching your best friend urinate?”

I dribbled – I didn’t mean to – and a little globule dropped onto her thigh and rolled languidly down the inside. Annie snorted through her gag. And as she raised herself off the seat, she gazed wistfully towards the toilet paper mounted on the wall, then at me. I shook my head... impossible. She wiggled her hips to shake herself dry.

When we re-entered the living room, our menfolk were sitting on the sofa once more, with refreshed glasses. Nick waved his hand to call us over, but in the middle of the room we were told to stop.

“Annie, sweetheart,” he said, “what’s happened there?” He was pointing towards her belly. He turned to me. “Fix it.”

Obediently, I twisted away from Annie and backed up until my fingers found the leather strap running the length of her torso. Shifting it wasn’t easy, because not only were my arms shackled behind me, but I had my own crotch-rope, attached to my wrists, to contend with. I ran my fingers down the strap, and she flinched as I slid it back into her crease. I glanced at the men, still lounging on the sofa, watching us with amused arousal. As I did so, by feeling Annie’s, I noticed something interesting about both our crotch-ropes. Where the strap pressed between the labia, the inner surface of the leather changed from smooth to a braided, lumpy texture. Hand-crafted for maximum stimulation.

Nick again motioned with his hand for us to approach. He and David had moved closer together, so Annie and I could stand between their outspread knees. I was in front of Nick. He placed his hands on my hips and slowly drew them down the outsides of my thighs. Then he slid them back upwards, along the insides. When his fingers touched the strip of leather and felt the wetness, he jerked away. I stifled a giggle behind my gag, as he resumed his exploration. His fingers tugged at and played with the strap before entering me. I stared straight ahead, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Annie cringe as the same was being done to her.

I was not sure what I would have done – could have done – if the guys had taken it further. For the first time since I realized, hours earlier, that we’d be walking to the farmhouse, I began to question my judgement. Had I let myself in for more than I could handle?

6. The Rules of the Game

As they fondled us, Nick and David began to discuss and evaluate our bodies. It wasn’t crude but it was all the same demeaning, especially when they started comparing our attributes. Annie scored higher on breasts, I did better on backside, and so on. The comments were, I have to admit, complimentary… which, oddly enough, I found more patronizing than the mere discussion.

From the slight tremor in his fingers and the swelling in his trousers, I could tell that Nick was becoming excited. Suddenly he reached forward and unfastened the chain connecting my collar with Annie’s. He sprang to his feet and scooped his girlfriend up in his arms. He carried her off down the passage, to one of the bedrooms.

Left alone and helpless with David, I looked at him. He hadn’t moved across to sit in front of me, but he still appeared to be studying my body. Abruptly he got to his feet, and I felt a momentary surge of alarm; but he crossed the room and came back with a large black bandana. He stood behind me and wrapped it around my head, over my eyes. Then he loosened the strap on my gag. He didn’t unbuckle and take it off, but rather left it around my neck, as a reminder that I was not yet finished with it. Finally, he took off the chain that linked my ankle cuffs, but not in order that I could move around. He ordered me to kneel.

“You can relax,” he said. I heard the sigh of a cushion as he sat down, but his voice was coming from behind me, from one of the armchairs on the other side of the room.

All I could really do was sit back on my heels, but at least it gave my knees a rest. They were still aching from the short time on the floorboards of the veranda. My arms and shoulders were also beginning to stiffen. I flexed them as much as I could without putting too much strain on my crotch-rope. This forced me to lean forward, as if bowing in submission. It was a humbling posture, different by degrees from mere capitulation to the ropes, unfamiliar and strangely erotic.

The clink of ice-cubes in a glass reminded me that I was getting thirsty. A ball-gag does that to you. So I asked.

“Of course,” he said. He got up, and I felt something hard and cold pressing against my lips. I rolled the ice around in my mouth, letting it melt into my throat. It felt good.

When he’d sat down again, we talked. It was rather weird having a conversation, bound and blindfolded on the floor, with a guy sitting behind me; but already the weird was becoming ordinary.

“Nick tells me you’re a postgrad. What’s your speciality?” I told him and he sounded impressed.

“You’re very attractive.”

“I know.”

“No false modesty. I like that. Beauty and brains – great combination.” That probably came out more condescending than he intended. We talked more about me, about his career as an architect, about the farmhouse.

“I’m not really into the country life, but this place is my getaway – peace, quiet and… privacy.” The pause before “privacy” seemed ominous. “Just about everything in the valley belongs to me. I don’t get out here as often as I would like, but when I do, I make the most of it.”

“I’m sure you do,” I meant to say it to myself, but it blurted out. He just laughed.

He suddenly changed the subject. “How long have you been into this?”

“What, bondage?” He didn’t answer. “I’ve been playing tie-up games since I was a little girl.”

“So this is a game to you?”

It took me a few seconds to decipher what he meant by that. I searched for the right words. “It’s what I do; it’s not what I am.”

“Yeah, I think I get that. Nick told us quite a lot about you.”

This intrigued me more than I let on, and it wasn’t just the “us”. I had only met Nick a few times, and we hadn’t exchanged much information. Unless David was exaggerating, he could have only got what he knew from Annie. But already he had moved on, veering in a new direction. It felt like he was probing me.

“I see you shave your...”

He didn’t finish it, which was peculiar. From what had happened so far, he came across as anything but coy.

“Don’t need to. I’m naturally… smooth.” This conversation was not getting any less bizarre.

“More ice?”

“Yes please.”

He slid another cube between my lips, his fingers lingering inside my mouth, stroking and exploring. They had absorbed a trace of the Scotch in his glass when he extracted the ice, and I sucked the taste off them. Then I lightly bit down on his fingers and he quickly pulled out.

“Feisty,” he chuckled.

“Not a pushover,” said the naked, bound, blindfolded girl on the floor.

“We’ll see.”

Before I could answer, I heard shuffling, and suddenly David had his hands on my shoulders. He pulled and I fell backwards, before he flipped me onto my stomach. He seized my ankles and locked the cuffs together, not with the chain but with some sort of clasp that must have been attached to them. He then pulled my legs out straight. I still had to arch my body slightly because of the crotch-rope, but he planted his foot on my backside and pushed downwards until I lay flat and the strap dug more deeply into my crevices. To ease the tension, I lifted my shoulders, but he used his hands to shove me down again.

Then, surprisingly, he asked: “Not too painful?”

“I’ve had worse,” I replied, with as much plucky defiance as I could muster through gritted teeth.

“Brave girl,” he said, as he fiddled with the strap of my gag before ramming the ball between my jaws.

“Turn her over.” It was Nick’s voice.

David spun me onto my back, onto my bound arms. I could sense at least one of the men standing over me; I could hear the unmistakable rasping sound of Annie panting rapidly through her gag. I felt a fleshy mass descend upon my chest. Our breasts settled into each other’s cleavage, but the men repositioned us so we were properly aligned over each other. Annie was somewhat bigger and heavier than me, and her weight squashed my boobs and squeezed some of the breath out of my lungs; and she couldn’t raise herself off my body to lessen the load. A hand pressed one of my thighs between hers, and hers between mine. Her crotch-rope was missing, and her vagina was hot and moist. Her skin was lathered with perspiration, her nipples were hard, her cheeks were burning, and between the puffing she was quietly moaning, not yet down from her climax.

“You look worn out.” David was speaking to Nick. “Relax and have a drink.”

“She’s insatiable,” Nick said.

“They can’t get enough,” David went on.

Lying underneath Nick’s exhausted, feverish partner, I resented him and his buddy as they sipped their expensive whisky; but I knew they were just having fun at our expense.

“We’re their toy boys.”

“They think they can just use us, drain us dry and throw us away.”

When the joke began to wear thin, David suddenly announced: “Hey, it’s time for the game!”

“Oh great,” I thought. “What’s coming now?”

Instead the television came on.

“Who’s playing?”

“Hawks and Tigers.”

“Twenty on the Hawks.”

“You’re on.”

The game lasted two hours, and during that time Annie and I stayed together on the floor. At half-time, the guys were considerate enough to turn us over, so that I could rest on top of her. Just in time – I felt my rib-cage was ready to collapse. After that, the biggest problem was the tedium. I have always liked the long-haul tie, fighting off the boredom that comes with being immobilized for hours at a time, gradually slipping into a dreamlike state as your senses become disconnected from the world beyond your bonds and your blindfold. However, I’ve always hated football, and having to listen to the TV in the background, and to the guys’ inane dialogue on the finer points of the game, prevented me from achieving that disconnection and started to drive me crazy.

The funny thing is, though, that Annie must have suffered even more. She was a footy fanatic as well as a near-rabid Hawks partisan, so it must have been excruciating for her to hear but not be able see what was happening on the screen. On the other hand, we found a way to distract and amuse ourselves, with subtle movements of our interlocked thighs in each other’s strategic places. I don’t know if the men caught onto the reason for the gentle writhing and the soft grunts and groans which filtered through our gags.

The match ended with the Hawks victorious, David twenty dollars richer, Annie and me still trussed naked on the living room floor, one atop the other. It was about mid-afternoon. The clouds which had been building all day now brought steady rain and a steep drop in temperature, and as the goosebumps rose on my bare skin, I thought wistfully of that elegant fireplace. If the boys decided to play more games with us, at least that would warm me up. Instead, they went out onto the veranda with their beers. I heard them talking but couldn’t discern anything they were saying. It was most likely about us. Annie shifted her body under mine, probably to take some of the load off her arms which must have been starting to cramp up. I didn’t want to provoke our masters by slipping off her, so I tried to readjust my weight. Annie retaliated by jamming her thigh into my crotch. The leather strap grated painfully against my most sensitive parts. We were beginning to tire of each other’s company.

Having an attitude didn’t help either of us, because our ordeal was far from over. I suppose that I got the better of it – for what it was worth – because I remained on top until we were at last separated, as the sun was going down. We were ordered to stand. I struggled to my feet, bending my knees and flexing my shoulders to work out the kinks. The men took off our wrist and ankle cuffs – not just undid them but took them off. One of them – I don’t know which since we were still blindfolded – removed my crotch-rope, slowly peeling the strap out of my crevices, and ran it across my face, under my nose. I don’t know what he was trying to prove. Finally, our ball-gags were taken off. We were, once more, ordered not to speak.

Nick resumed the exposition he had begun earlier. “Even when your hands aren’t bound, you will not remove anything that we’ve put on you – unless we tell you to. You will wear your collars the whole time. You will obey any instructions you’re given, without question and without hesitation. Don’t expect to like them all, but it will make the game more interesting. You will not wear clothing for the entire week, except when we may decide otherwise. But now comes the fun bit…”


“You girls aren’t just going to be our playthings for the week. You will be our slaves.”

Nick had paused to give us time to integrate that piece of information, so David interjected: “You will wait on us, cook and clean and all that. There are lots of chores to be done. As you saw from the state of the kitchen, cooking is not my forte. Also, the house needs some fixing up and the yard needs work as well. So we intend to keep you girls busy... when you’re not entertaining us.”

“When we’re not entertaining you,” Nick added quickly. “Annie, as my property, you will call me Master, and you will address David as Sir. Sarah, as David’s special guest, you will call him Master and me Sir… when you’re able to speak, of course. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then let the games begin.”

“This isn’t what I signed up for,” I was thinking, but I said nothing. In any case, before I had time to absorb the implications, David was giving his first orders.

“Off to the kitchen with you. It’s getting near dinnertime.”

Nick took off our blindfolds, but David reattached the chain to our collars, and with it he led us to the kitchen. It was as bad as it had appeared in that first impression. The stove top was encrusted with grease and rust, the benches covered in dust and dirt, the cupboards and drawers empty but for cobwebs. On the floor were two large cartons, one piled high with groceries, the other filled with cooking and cleaning equipment.

“Before you start the meal, this place needs a bit of attention.” David reached into the second box and pulled out two pairs of rubber gloves, which he tossed onto the counter next to me. “If you have any problems or questions, just call out. Nick and I will be in the living room… relaxing.” He just had to throw in that last bit.

Annie and I set to work with steel wool, mops, scrubbing brushes and many buckets of detergent, with muscle power and willpower. Linked by our neck chain, we had to work in tandem, and in silence for fear of being gagged, the penalty for engaging in “idle chatter.” We laboured diligently, and within an hour the entire kitchen was sparkling. Every so often one of the men would wander in, beer in hand, to check on our progress, and we sensibly resisted the urge to express our indignation. Finally, mission completed, Annie and I stood humbly at attention, heads lowered, our naked bodies glistening with sweat, limbs trembling with fatigue, as our masters inspected our work.

It was really strange, the pride I felt in a job well done, given the circumstances. Yet David’s only response was: “Well, why are you standing about? There’s a meal to be cooked.”

The words may have been cruel, but I understood well by now that they were part of the game.

“Yes, Master,” I replied. “Umm, Master…”


“I was wondering if we might be permitted to wear aprons… you know, while we’re cooking.”

He considered the idea for a moment, then ruefully shook his head. “Sorry, you will just have to do without.” There was a smirk on his lips and a cruel glint in his eyes. “I suggest you be extra careful.”

“Yes, thank you Master.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Dinner, we decided, would be spaghetti bolognaise, and dessert a fruit salad. Never being the most accomplished of chefs, I let Annie take the lead. We were indeed careful, and I only received one small blister when a blob of simmering meat sauce suddenly spattered across the stove. I yelped and Annie jumped, then she gave me a baleful look. I think she was afraid my ineptitude would get us both in strife. However, the rest of the cookery session passed without incident; and I think we did very well, considering how exhausted we were by this time. We set the dining table and stood dutifully at attention as the men took their places. Nick motioned with his hand, giving us permission to seat ourselves.

“Err, Master…” Annie inclined her head in the direction of our neck chain. Our chairs were at opposite ends of the table. Nick laughed and unlinked us.

After the meal, the men helped us clear the table, which surprised me, but they left us with the washing up. Then we joined them in the living room. As before, Annie and I reclined on the floor; and after just a few minutes, Nick ordered her to stand up. With one of the bandanas that had been used as a blindfold, he tied her hands behind her back and took her to their bedroom.

Left alone with David, I sat on the floor nervously looking up at him. He sensed my unease – which would not have been difficult. He smiled indulgently. “Don’t worry, honey. You will be sleeping here tonight.” He patted the sofa cushion beside him. “Now, run along and make us some coffee.”

“Yes, Master.”

Even as that came out, I marvelled at how effortlessly it had done so. I told myself it was just another facet of the game… which it was. Nevertheless, there were unfamiliar feelings stirring within me. As extreme as some of my tie-up episodes of the past had been, I had always stayed in ultimate control. This was different. I had the power to end the game, but while I remained in it, I had to surrender myself freely and completely. I had to become what I had never been. It was as if my world was spinning on a new axis.

7. Working Girls

David and I stayed up late, just talking. He was in many ways like Nick, with the same air of confidence, the same penetrating stare, the same disconcerting sense of ambiguity that made it impossible to tell what he was thinking, let alone planning. Like Nick, he exuded power and understood its true nature – that a strong man can afford to be gentle with a woman, just as it takes strength for her to surrender to him. He did not have to demand submission; he expected it, and I rendered it.

When I returned to the living room with two mugs of coffee, David was holding up my discarded leather cuffs and smiling. I set down the coffee and dutifully put my hands behind my back.

“No, in front,” he said.

I held out my hands and he attached the bracelets, securing them together with the tiny clasp on the inside of each. That way I could drink my coffee without his assistance. But he wasn’t doing me any favours; it was his way of reminding me that whatever I did and was able to do was at his indulgence. So knowing my place, I parked myself on the floor while he reclined on the sofa. He studied my naked body for a while as we sat in silence.

Finally, he asked if I was cold.

“The coffee will warm me up... Master.”

He grinned. “You don’t have to call me that all the time.” He spoiled the effect, somewhat, by adding “Let’s not wear it out.”

David did this a lot, sabotaging the mood. He had this strangely endearing habit of undercutting his carefully crafted persona. It intrigued me, because it showed layers of personality not immediately apparent; and it scared me, because it made it impossible to know his true nature.

We talked about all sorts of things. It was past midnight when he rose from his seat and ordered me to get up as well. He asked if I needed to use the bathroom. With some trepidation I said yes, but he released me from my cuffs and let me go alone. When I returned, he told me to lie face down on the sofa, hands behind my back. I assumed the position and he bound my wrists and ankles with some kind of soft cord. He secured the ropes tight enough to keep me restrained but loose enough that my circulation wouldn’t be a problem as I slept. He crouched beside the sofa and stroked my head and fondled my bottom, but nothing else. He draped a blanket over me and tucked the sides under my body.

“Good-night, sweet girl,” he said.

“Good-night, Master,” I replied. I didn’t think I was wearing it out just yet.

He flicked the light switch and left me in the darkness, drifting off to sleep thinking about all the weird and wonderful things which had happened that day. During the night I had wild dreams and at some point kicked off my cover. In my bound state I was unable to retrieve it. I shivered a bit, but with the clouds acting as a blanket, it was not unbearable, so I got through the night.


My eyes flicker open and I look about me. The disorientation lasts just a few seconds as I peer into the early morning gloom through bleary eyes. I try to rub the sleep from them and realize that my hands are still bound behind my back. I remember that I am in David’s living room. I must have made a noise, because a blurred shape appears, framed in the kitchen doorway. It emits a strange, muffled, gurgling sound.

Annie hops into the room, bound like me but gagged as well. I wonder if she’s had to be like that the entire night. I ask her, and she nods ruefully. She knocks her knees together and I get the message. Her legs weren’t bound all the time, for the obvious reason. She collapses onto one end of the sofa, and we stare at each other for a while. A sunbeam bursts into the room and starts to creep along the floor towards us. I raise and lower my feet. Annie considers my action for a moment, then frowns.

“If they didn’t want us to get loose, they should’ve done a better job of tying us,” I whisper.

She nods uncertainly, before dragging herself off the sofa. I do the same, and we kneel back-to-back. Annie’s wrists are still tied with the bandana, and the large knot is not hard to undo. She has more trouble with my bonds, but once her hands are free she is quickly able to finish the job. We untie our ankles and Annie wrests the ball-gag from her jaws with a relief so palpable I can feel it. And then the light goes on.

I blink away the afterimage of the flash. Nick is standing over us, his face in silhouette.

“Down,” is all he needs to say.

Annie and I prostrate ourselves, side by side, before him, lying on our bellies, feet together, wrists crossed in anticipation behind our backs. Staring straight ahead, not daring to look up, I observe a second pair of legs emerge from the corridor.

“What’s to be done?” David says.

“Someone’s in need of discipline.”

“Yeah, but that can wait. I’m in need of breakfast.”

The men have moved behind us so I can no longer see them. One of them plants his foot on my backside, toes pushing deep between my bare buttocks. Next to me, Annie grunts loudly.

“Get up,” Nick orders. “You’ll be punished for your disobedience… as soon as breakfast is over, of course.”

I resent the accusation; but I’m curious about what they have in store for us.

“Now get to the kitchen.”

“Yes, Master.” Annie barely stifles a giggle.

“Yes, Sir.” I perform a little curtsy which elicits a laugh and a stern rebuke.

“Just for that...” Nick growls. He holds up Annie’s ball-gag and points across the room towards mine, sitting with a pile of other bondage accoutrements on the corner bar.

“Thanks a lot,” Annie murmurs, just before she opens wide.

I mumble a “You’re welcome” before I’m silenced.

Annie and I withdraw to the kitchen. One of the guys has thoughtfully stuck a menu on the refrigerator door – muesli, bacon, eggs, toast, coffee, juice. Annie and I consider each other’s naked bodies before she gives out a sigh of resignation and reaches for the cooking oil and the frying pan.

Unlike last night, we are not invited to join our masters at the table. Instead we patiently and silently tend to their needs, fetching second helpings of bacon and eggs, buttering toast, refilling coffee cups. The males enjoy their repast as we stand by, watching them with envy. The aromas tantalize and torment my senses. I bite down hard on the plastic orb filling my mouth. It’s no substitute. ’

When they’re done, Nick and David leave us to our chores. Annie stares hungrily at the leftovers, but neither of us dares remove her gag.

With breakfast duty done with, I wonder what the men have in store for us today. Annie and I find them relaxing on the porch, sipping beer and watching the morning go by. They don’t notice us, or they ignore us, until we kneel before them. Annie surprises me by bending forward and kissing her master’s feet. I don’t follow her, and David doesn’t expect it. He drains his bottle and sets it down on the floor, in front of me.

“What’s on the agenda?” He speaks to Nick, not to us.

“This place is a disaster area,” Nick says, waving his hand about. “I think it needs serious renovation.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Well, we do have a couple of idle slavegirls…”

“Lazy females, just lounging about…” David lifts a foot and strokes his boot along my thigh. I barely suppress a reaction that will only get me into trouble. ’

So they set us to work, tidying, cleaning and repairing. We start in the yard, hacking and mowing knee-high grass, clearing the accumulated debris from years of neglect. Still naked and barefoot, we have to be careful; but David does provide oversized garden gloves... not so much for our protection, he assures us, but so we can work more efficiently.
“You’ve got a lot to keep you busy,” he informs us.
I realize that he’s done it again, making a gesture and immediately sabotaging it. His predictable unpredictability continues to intrigue me; but for the time being my mind is on the job ahead. It is so odd that I’m going along with this. It’s not my usual style. I wonder what will happen if I disobey... not what he and Nick would do to me - I can imagine that - but whether I would like it.
Our masters, loafing on the porch, help out occasionally with directions and suggestions, interrupting our routine with periodic orders to fetch more beer. With the ball-gag exacerbating my thirst, I stare greedily at the frost-covered bottles.

After several hours of toil, we are given a break, to prepare lunch. As we trudge up the steps, Nick shoves out a leg to impede us.

“Like that?” he demands, looking over our naked bodies, sweaty and grubby and smelly. “Somebody needs a good wash,” he continues, sniffing the air with affectation.

Well, that at last is something, I think… but my beatific vision of a lovely hot shower or a soaking bath lasts just a few seconds. I should know by now that nothing here is going to be so easy. David seizes my arms, wrenches them behind my back and binds them. Nick does the same to Annie. She is so surprised that she topples backward. She falls to her knees. He shows no pity, pushing her head downward until she is bent double. He secures her wrists and elbows behind her.

David points to one of the trees nearby, attaches a rope to my collar and drags me over to it. Annie staggers to her feet and joins me under the sprawl of branches. The men secure our neck tethers to one of the lower hanging limbs. They adjust the length to make our leashes taut enough that we are forced to stand erect, but not so much that we have to rise on tiptoes. We face each other, about an arm’s distance apart. Annie is shaking and breathing heavily, still in mild shock from her rough treatment. Saliva foams in tiny bubbles between the edges of her ball-gag and the corners of her mouth. Our eyes meet, and she sees the concern in mine. Her smile through the red ball is a twisted parody of a smile, but her wink is as saucy and sassy as ever.

David disappears into the house. By the time he re-emerges, Nick has connected the garden hose and is pointing it at us, with a menacing grin. Yet what David carries appears by far the more intimidating. In one hand, an enormous block of laundry soap; in the other, a vicious-looking scrubbing brush. I cringe at the sight. Annie recoils and lets out a muffled, gurgled squeal as she’s hit by a gush of water from the hose. Nick laughs, but I worry that she might lose her balance – or I might. I don’t fancy being strangled; but I look up and see that we have been tethered to a bendy branch. I should know by now that they wouldn’t put us at risk. I’m not really thinking straight; and given the circumstances, that’s no surprise.

The spurt of ice-cold water blasts the air out of my lungs and lances my flesh with a thousand needle pricks. I twirl and dance, trying to dodge the stream, but Nick directs it systematically along my torso, stopping at the most intimate and sensitive places for special attention. Then he hands the hose over to David, who turns the nozzle from jet to spray, as Nick advances on poor Annie with the brush and soap. I watch in revulsion and excitement as he sets to work on her, until her body from neck to knees is red-raw flesh and white foam suds. She moans and whimpers. Nick and David swap places and it’s my turn.

“Dirty girl,” David says as he lathers me, gently massaging the soap over my skin and into my nooks and crannies. When he applies the brush, he is less tender, but no less thorough. The bristles scratch and scour my flesh and torture my sensitized nipples; and when the brush slides between my legs they enter me and play with me until I scream through my gag and twist at the end of my leash.

The torment lasts for several more minutes which seem like hours; and then the men unhitch us. Annie and I both fall to our knees. My skin tingles from the chill of the water and the stimulation of the brush. I feel so exhausted, mentally and physically, that I just want to lie forever upon the wet grass; but I haul myself up onto my knees and then to my feet.

The men untie us but we keep our collars and gags. Still unsteady, dripping water with each wobbly step, Annie and I make our way to the kitchen. We prepare lunch and sit with our masters in the front yard. We are permitted to remove our gags, but as the payoff our blindfolds go on. The newly mowed grass tickles under my bare backside, and a light breeze is a soothing balm on the places where the scrubbing brush has seared my flesh.

The respite is brief. After we’ve cleared up the remains of lunch, we’re put back to work in the yard. It’s blindfolds off and gags back in; and Nick decides to make our task more difficult by binding our wrists in front. I don’t think I have ever worked this hard in my life, but as the sun sinks behind the hills and the crisp evening air nips my tired, naked body, I feel a strange sense of accomplishment. I have made it through the second day. Only then does it hit me. Five days to go. It’s hardly begun.
8. A Night to remember

To be continued...