By Johnny Mills

Chapter One

After firmly cinching and knotting the bands of rope which circled her legs above the knees, Jennifer straightened her legs but then gave an exasperated sigh. As she had turned her hips to inspect the leg bonds, the rope around her waist had loosened and she felt slackness in her crotchrope.

    For a couple of seconds she considered going on to the next step anyway. But no. She had been planning and anticipating this evening for weeks, and she wasn't willing to compromise on the experience. She finally had a three day weekend stretching out ahead of her after moving to a new apartment in a new city for her new job. Her submission fantasies had been driving her crazy over the past two months, and the next few hours were designed to finally scratch that itch exquisitely. So she stood precariously on her high-heeled, crossed feet, pressed her calves against the bed and put one hand on the mattress for support, and inspected the ropes.

    Her free hand and eyes confirmed her experienced guess: She would not be able to fix the problem properly with her legs tied together. With a disgusted growl she sat down again on the bed and began to untie the ropes she had so carefully fastened mere moments before. As the knee ropes loosened, the first drop of water from the large cube of ice hanging from the ceiling fell. With a muted "clink" it hit in the center of a bowl sitting on a chair next to the other side of the bed.

    "Wasting time you could spend in helpless ecstasy," Jenni chided herself as she freed her knees and started to loosen the coils around her ankles. Well, the ice wasn't going to melt very fast in the temperature at which the air conditioning was set. Two hours from now she might wish that it would, but that was the way she wanted it. Standing and stepping out of the pools of cord at her feet, she began to repair the looseness which had compromised the waist and crotch ropes.

    In the four inch heels which were strapped around her ankles, Jennifer was not quite five and a half feet tall. Her figure could best be described as slim, though she had always preferred the terms "lithe" or "willowy." Her firm breasts were not especially large, but on her frame they looked almost voluptuous. They were free now, as apart from her heels she wore only thigh-high nylons and bikini panties. Those bits of clothing accentuated her well-formed legs, unusually long for her height, and her tight bottom. ("I'll bet you could crack walnuts in between those buns," a too-friendly drunk had told in in a bar once.)

    The panties all but disappeared from sight now as she rearranged and tightened the rope which pulled up through her crotch. She closed her eyes briefly as one of the knots she had tied along the length of the rope rubbed across her sex.

    Certain that the stimulator rope was now properly positioned and very secure, she allowed herself the indulgence of rubbing her hands over her breasts and then her hips while she slowly walked around the bedroom. The passion within her built higher, clamoring for release, but she denied it. Taking a few motionless seconds to regain control, she then sat back down on the bed, crossed her ankles, and began to tie them together again.

    "We don't want you hopping around trying to find a knife, do we pet?" she heard an imaginary male voice say as she finished tying her feet. "And I think we'll just add a little insurance over your knees," her imaginary captor added as she retied that portion of her legs, "because you're going to be struggling quite desperately."

    With her legs neatly bound, she next picked up a piece of thin, flexible wire onto which at each end she had fashioned a tiny noose. Those she fastened firmly onto her nipples, which were erect both from excitement and the cool air in the apartment. She didn't dare put any type of pinchers on her breasts for the hours-long period she was planning to be helpless, but she didn't want her chest being ignored during the session or for her nipples to subside.

    She picked up the pink, sparkly collar and large pink ballgag from the bed and buckled them on, studying her face in the mirror across the room as she did so. Some might argue that her body was skinny or thin rather than slender.  ("You just need a few more ounces to get the right kind of bounces," the friendly drunk had told her.) But there was little question that she had an attractive face. Still, it was composed of some rather mismatched features. Her eyes were very large and rounded, always looking either a bit surprised or wounded. ("Kewpie doll" her mother still often called her, to her great embarrassment if anyone else was around.) Her snub nose added to the rather "anime" look. Her mouth, however, was wide, with extraordinarily full lips. She was sure people believed she had gotten collagen injections, although that wasn't true.

    So while the upper half of her face projected an elfin allure, the bottom portion argued for a more earthy, seductive attraction. The deciding factor in the competition seemed to be determined by how she wore her hair. A short style favored the pixie features, while longer tresses accentuated the passionate mouth. Currently she was wearing her hair short, something she mildly regretted at this instant. Didn't damsels in distress always look more lovely when they tossed their hair back and forth?

    She shrugged mentally. Maybe it was time to buy a wig, but that was something to consider another day. At least short hair made it easier to put on the gag. She pulled hard on the strap, trying to get it a little tighter than it had ever been before, but couldn't quite do it. She relented and went back to the strap hole which was well-worn by now.

    "The sides of your mouth are still going to be damned sore by the time this comes off," she told herself. "All part of the experience," was the mental reply.

    She stared across the room at the gagged and collared Jenni in the mirror. "And how exactly did you come to want to have this particular type of experience, Jen?" she asked herself.

    She didn't know, not for certain. Shy and solitary by nature, she hadn't been allowed to fade into the background as a child. Oldest of four children, their father gone before she was nine, she had been forced by circumstances to be an authority figure to her siblings in order to help her hard-working mother. She cared for the little ones while desperately longing to have someone look after her, make decisions for her, take care of her.

    Was that why she now fantasized about giving complete control of her body to some fantasy dominant - but loving - partner? In part perhaps, but not entirely. For she could recall even before she was forced to become a miniature semi-adult how fascinated she always had been when a woman on the tv screen was in peril of some sort. How pretty they looked, even while being terrified! And how wonderful it was when the handsome hero came to their rescue, just in time!

    But there had been no storybook hero for her. Once she had thought that there might be. An attractive boy who did things for her and treated her with respect. But eventually came a night which put the lie to all of that. Her half-formed notions of beginning exploration and gentle experiment were cracked and then destroyed by a boy who was suddenly blind to her signals, deaf to her pleas, and uncaring of her struggles and tears. As her clothes were torn away, his morality - his very humanity - seemed to follow in their tattered wake. Finally he rolled off her, gasping with pleasure and even chuckling a bit, while she tried to deal with the pain he'd caused and wondered if she had really just been raped.

    She came out of her introspection, as was usually the case, filled with self-anger. What difference did it make? That was over. Live in the moment. She picked up a wide leather belt and buckled it around her arms and chest as tightly as she could, just below her breasts. Then she looked around the room carefully.

    "Last chance, Jen. Make sure everything is the way it's supposed to be," she told herself. "You won't be able to change a thing in another few minutes."

    One dim light on, sitting on the nightstand. A soupcan-sized block of ice hanging from the ceiling in place of the usual dreamcatcher, with a padlock key frozen in its center. The waterdrops from the slowly thawing ice falling into the bowl positioned on the other side of the bed, where she would be able to get her fingers into it. A duplicate key, in case of emergency, on the dresser and tied at the end of a string which led to the bed. And anchored on the dresser by a large open jar of pickle juice.

    Satisfied, she swung her legs up onto the bed and tied the cord at the end of the bed around her bound ankles. The other end of the cord was already tied to one of the bed's feet near the floor. She wasn't going to be able to get off the bed now - not that she wanted to, anyway.

    Last leg now. Well, actually wrists last now. She pulled a leather cuff tight around her left wrist and locked it on with one of the three padlocks lined up on top of the mattress. Then she repeated the process on her right wrist. Picking up the last small padlock, she fell back on the bed and moved onto her side, putting her hands close together behind her back. She wiggled for a moment, getting as comfortable as she could. Then she began the last movement of her self-bondage.

    Each of the leather cuffs had an "o" ring on it, positioned on the inside of the wrist. Working by feel, Jenni slipped the third padlock arm through one of the rings. Her fingers found the crotchrope where it emerged from the cleft of her buttocks, and worked that though the open part of the lock too. And then lastly she slid the lock arm through the ring on the other wrist cuff. Feeling that all three had in fact been connected, she grasped the padlock between a thumb and forefinger and slowly, very slowly, clicked the lock shut, reveling in the small sound which signalled that she was now a helpless prisoner.

    She gave a long sigh of satisfaction at the completion of her work and allowed herself perhaps thirty seconds to rest. She turned her head and looked over at the mirror, enjoying the reflected sight of her roped and strapped body. Then she began to lightly tense different areas of her anatomy, testing the restraints. There was no give at all at her knees, and just the tiniest bit of play at her ankles. She wasn't upset by that; it wasn't near enough to offer any hope of escape, and it allowed for some delightful friction as her nylon-covered calves worked against one another.

    There was another sort of even more pleasurable friction going on of course, as the crotch rope and the material of her panties rubbed between her legs. She closed her eyes while her hips rolled slowly, savoring the stimulation. There was no hurry. An orgasm - in truth, more than one - was certain during the session. She hoped that at some point she would fall asleep, so that later she would have the thrill of awakening in bondage. She was rarely able to do that; generally the excitement of the situation and/or anxiety about her eventual escape from it kept her awake. But occasionally she was able to drift into a light slumber, and those sessions were her favorites.

    She continued to explore her restraints. The belt around her arms at elbow level was holding nicely. Her gag was certainly secure. Her wrists...

    She sighed. Her wrists were not as firmly immobilized as she would have preferred. They had too great a range of motion and were a bit too comfortable. Metal handcuffs would have eliminated that last "problem" of course, but in her opinion handcuffs were too unforgiving and too likely to leave ligature marks which lingered for days.

    She would rather have used rope or cloth strips. She knew of and had used several methods to tie her wrists behind her back quite tightly. The problem there was the time that it could take to get out of the bindings. In the event of a fire or other emergency, a knife, razor, or scissors could take several minutes to get her wrists free, and that might be too long. Another reason for her to lament the lack of a bondage partner.

    And of course rope or cloth could leave potentially embarrassing marks too, even when she used, as she usually did, some sort of protection on her wrists. She remembered the day months ago when she had signed the papers to rent this apartment and handed the papers back to the landlady at her office.

    "My gracious," the woman had said. "What happened to your wrist?"

    "Oh, I... spilled some hot water on it when I was making tea," Jennifer had lied, keeping her other hand in her lap and trying to pull the other arm further back into the blouse's long sleeve. That stupid "going away" session...

    The other woman had smiled sympathetically. "It looks like it hurt. Take care."

    "Thanks, I will. It wasn't that bad," Jenni had murmured, reminding herself to do a better job on her wrists with makeup in the future when necessary.

    But anyway... the leather cuffs weren't at all loose. She certainly wasn't getting out of them without the key.

    She tugged on the cuffs and savored the corresponding pull on the crotchrope. She flattened her hands and rubbed the palms and fingers over her tensed buttocks. She loved the way that the rope dividing them seemed to make her rump cheeks even firmer than usual.

    It was time to pick a fantasy and start to get into it. She mentally cycled through her favorite storylines, but already knew which one she would use first.

    She was the beautiful and willful young mistress of an ancient manor and sprawling estate. She was high-handed with all the servants, none more so than the quiet, handsome young man who had charge of the stable and animals.

    This evening she had cursed at him for some imagined misdeed and then even struck him with her riding crop. He had shown no reaction to the stinging blow. Incensed by his failure to cringe before her, she had drawn back her arm for another strike. And then all at once he had grasped her wrist with amazing speed and strength, and had pulled her close against him. She had stared with wonder into his strong face, his bright blue eyes; had been aware of her breasts heaving rapidly against his muscular chest while sudden warmth ignited within her...

    Then he had suddenly spun her about, had used some of the readily available ropes and straps to tightly bind her while she cried out with a mixture of fear, discomfort, and yes, excitement. He'd gagged her and pushed her to the ground where she struggled frenziedly but with no success, occasionally gazing up at him with looks which became more and more pleading.

    And now at last he had moved beside her, lifting her lush, helpless form with no apparent effort, and told her, "And now milady, I believe it is high time that you were properly tamed."

    "Yes," Jennifer said to herself dreamily. "Take me, control me. Tame me, please." Her eyes closed and her hips began to gyrate rhythmically as she writhed against her restraints.

    Suddenly her soft moans and increasingly feverish struggles both stopped. Had that been a rattling sound from the entrance to her apartment in the next room? Was someone trying to get inside? She had locked both locks, hadn't she? There was always the dangerously exciting temptation to leave the door unlocked, but she'd always had sense enough to never give in to that. She was sure she'd locked it - she must have!

    She lay completely still and quiet. Her eyes stared blankly at the pillow while her ears strained to catch any sound from the outer room. She was just starting to relax a bit when there was a loud "click' which she recognized as the sound of the lock bolt sliding back. And then a squeak from the hinges as the door was opened.

    Jenni was paralyzed; more immobilized by fear even than by her tight bonds. Should she pull the emergency key off the dresser? Would the crash of the jar of pickle juice be more likely to frighten the intruder away or to bring him to investigate? She would never get the key into her shackled hand, let alone free herself, before he might open the bedroom door. She believed that her best chance was to keep quiet. Perhaps the burglar would be frightened off by the light showing under the door. Perhaps he'd just grab her tv and run.

    The perspiration which had been produced by her exertions and passion was now clammy on her skin; she trembled with fear. If he came in here...! It would be a rapist's dream, his victim already helpless and waiting on her bed!

    From outside the bedroom door came the sound of footsteps rapidly crossing the living room, heading unmistakeably for the bedroom. With a hopeless little sob which was almost completely muffled by the ballgag, Jenni began to pull on the string which was connected to the emergency key. She had to try!

    But she had not even taken up all of the slack in the string when the door swung open and a dark form rushed in, followed by another. In the muted light Jenni had only a brief nightmare impression of black pants, sweatshirts, and ski masks before the first interloper was at her bedside. One gloved hand fastened on her pinioned wrists and another grabbed her hair.

    Jenni screamed as loudly as she could, but the large ball filling her mouth absorbed much of it, and she knew that the sound which emerged would not be enough to alert any of her neighbors. One of the reasons she had chosen this apartment building was its excellent sound insulation. When she'd earned her promotion, raise, and transfer, she had promised herself that it meant an end to listening to quarrels, loud music, and howling kids in nearby apartments.

    And now the hand in her hair wrenched her head around and pushed it face-first into the pillow, cutting off her scream - not to mention her oxygen - completely. She felt the string to the emergency key being pulled out of her hand while she struggled desperately but futilely against someone who had the advantages of strength, leverage, freedom of movement and the ability to breathe. After a few seconds her head was pulled off of the pillow. Almost immediately some sort of cloth bag was pulled down over her head. Then her face was again pressed down into the pillow for a second before being released. The threat was clear; she could be easily smothered if she made trouble.

    Jenni lay there quietly (though her heart was pounding crazily), grateful that at least for the moment she was not being mauled or sexually assaulted, and that she had not been flipped over to expose her bare breasts. There were rummaging noises in the room and she supposed that the housebreakers were searching for valuables. She prayed fervently that they would be satisfied with the modest amounts of cash and jewelry she had and would then leave her behind, since she obviously could not follow them or call the police.

    The scavenging noises stopped and she could hear the low murmur of voices as the invaders talked to one another in voices too soft for her to understand. "Please just leave!" she implored them over and over again mentally.

    Then she gave a muffled shriek as she felt one of them climb onto the bed, knees straddling her bound legs, and sit just above her bound knees. Gloved hands rolled her onto one side while other hands undid the belt which was pinning her arms against her body. The belt came loose and was pulled off, and Jenni heard it dropped onto the floor.

    She was spun back onto her stomach. Almost before she had time to wonder what would happen next, rope was snaking around her upper arms. A gloved hand grasped each of her elbows and pushed them toward one another, and other hands pulled on the ropes, adding more pressure in the same direction.

    Jenni moaned into her gag as her elbows touched together and were rapidly lashed there. She'd already known that she could get her elbows very close to one another and she'd fantasized about this bondage, but the discomfort was jarring nonetheless.

    Her captors were working quickly. She heard a click as the padlock holding her wrists together was unlocked, followed in short order by the locks which held each cuff around each wrist. Then the cuffs themselves were pulled off.

    Keenly aware that this might be her last chance to win free, Jenni fought madly, trying to bring her hands to her sides and bucking with insane strength to try to dislodge the person atop her. But of course it was almost laughably futile. Gagged, nearly completely bound, her sight taken away, lying flat on her stomach against two antagonists - she had no chance. Her hands were pulled back almost instantly and harsh coils of cord seemed to weld them against one another.

    As she felt the knots being pulled tight, Jenni knew that she would never get free of these restraints by herself. She was lost. She felt tears sliding down her cheeks while streams of saliva produced by her frantic struggles leaked around the gag strapped in her mouth. Both forms of moisture were slowly absorbed by the cloth bag covering her head.

    The intruder who'd been atop her climbed off and then started to lift her off the bed as well. There was a grunt of anger when the motion was halted by the rope which still connected her ankles to one of the legs at the foot of the bed. A few seconds later the tension on the rope vanished; one of the pair had a knife or scissors.

    Jenni was horrified by the fact that they were moving her, apparently to take her with them. She had scant hope of rescue here, but her odds of salvation would be virtually nil if they took her to a place where they felt safe. She twisted desperately, but that didn't prevent one of her attackers from lifting her into his arms.

    And then Jenni's struggles were momentarily halted by shock, for as the intruder pulled her close she felt what were unmistakeably the full breasts of a woman pressing over and against her own bustline. She turned her head reflexively in that direction, although the bag over her head prevented her from seeing anything. Then she resumed her struggles as the woman began to carry her out into the living room. Jenni heard the door to the outside being opened. There was a short pause, probably while the confederate of the woman holding her looked outside to make sure no one was nearby. And then she was being carried out of the building; she heard the door close behind them.

    She screamed as loudly as she was able, but again her gag soaked up much of it. It was quite late and a chilly evening; doors and windows were closed. And it was only a few steps until she heard the door of a vehicle sliding open. Seconds later she was placed on the floor inside of what must be a van. She felt the vehicle settle again on its suspension as the woman who had carried her also got inside.

    Jenni sobbed and tried to roll away, but it was hopeless. She was turned on her side and felt her ankles jerk as her captor grasped the remnant of the rope which had formerly held Jenni's ankles to the bedleg. The rope end was brought up between her bound wrists and then jerked back down hard again to her ankles. Jenni winced and cried out hopelessly as her pinioned limbs were pulled close together and the rope then tied off to complete the hogtie. She felt and heard the woman climb out of the van and slide the door shut. Two other doors of the vehicle opened and then closed, and she heard the motor being started. The van backed out of the parking space and transported Jenni into the night. She could do nothing but cry and pull uselessly against the ropes.



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