This year, I made very sure that I would not forget my wife's birthday. I put it in my electronic diaries in the office and at home, together with lots of reminders one week, two weeks, three weeks and four weeks ahead. It went into my pocket diary and my desk diary. There were even notes strategically placed in my desk drawers.
Why all this fuss? Because I had forgotten it last year. And she was very far from amused, and locked me out of the bedroom for a week. Now if you saw Helen, you'd realise why I never want that to happen again. From her feet, usually shod in toweringly high stilettos, up past her perfectly shaped legs (visible almost to the top thanks to her taste in skirts) and hourglass figure, to her bright blue eyes and genuinely blonde mane of hair, she is simply the most gorgeous girl you could ever hope to see.
So I had to ensure that she got a present she'd really enjoy. I pondered for weeks, but nothing came to mind. My mind drifted back to when I first met her, when she was a 16 year old Girl Guide. She had looked so incredibly cute in her uniform, with its short tunic and knee-length white socks. She had really enjoyed tying knots. I recalled how during first aid practice she liked to wrap up the other girls tightly in bandages until they were immobile, sometimes even gagging and blindfolding them.
On our first date she'd asked to go and see the new film "The Notorious Bettie Page". She had sat there entranced during the bondage scenes, and commented afterwards how much she'd love to meet Bettie. I later bought her a book of photos of Bettie tied up, and will never forget the way she showed her appreciation. She often looked at that book, commenting on the details of the bondage and what could be done to make it even more stringent and escape-proof.
Suddenly, the answer came to me in a blinding flash. Surely she'd love to tie up a girl and make her completely helpless, like a Bettie Page photo. All I had to do was find a suitable, willing girl. Needless to say, that was easier said than done. I had to call in quite a few favours, and grease a few palms, and hunt out friends of friends of friends. But in the end, with only a few days to spare, it was all sorted out. A girl called Amy would be at our house at 8pm sharp on Helen's birthday - "a lovely girl, and absolutely 8pm sharp, I do promise you".
At last the morning came, and I gave Helen her card and left for work. So she knew I hadn't forgotten about her birthday this year, but she must have wondered where her present was. I was home at 6pm, to be greeted warmly but with a "where's my present" look. I just smiled knowingly. We had a quick supper. I hadn't married her for her great supper-making skills; she has more than enough going for her without them, I thought for the umpteen hundredth time as I ate the tasteless meal while watching her going to the kitchen in her short, very tight skirt and seamed stockings.
Just before eight, I told her to go upstairs and get changed. I had laid out a completely black outfit for her - basque with attached suspenders, thong, stockings with lace tops, elbow-length gloves and her highest pencil-thin heels. I could almost read her mind as I watched her walking up the stairs, her hips swaying from side to side as she climbed: "Where's my present?"
The doorbell rang at 8pm precisely. I rushed to open it. Against the fading red glow of sunset, there stood a really cute girl, with curly red hair, green eyes and a figure to rival Helen's. I knew she was 21, but she looked younger. My contact had really come up trumps! "He...hello, I'm Amy", she stuttered.
"Come in, come in, thrice welcome," I said, putting my arm around her waist, drawing her in and closing the door. She was clearly as nervous as hell, and I did my best to put her at her ease. "Nothing to worry about; my wife just wants to play a little game to amuse herself with on her birthday," I smiled. I installed her in the front room, where there was a box that I had carefully stocked with everything Helen would need. The lid was firmly shut; no point letting Amy see anything just yet.
Soon Amy had a couple of drinks inside her, and had stripped off to the white tie-side bikini I had specified, ready for action. She looked so innocent and gorgeous that I almost regretted that Helen was upstairs, but I quickly snapped out of that train of thought. "Come down quickly, Helen," I called upstairs. "I have a surprise for you."
Helen came slowly down the stairs, resplendent in her black lingerie. Even for her, the heels were so high that she had difficulty walking downstairs. But my, did she look good! "Come into the front room," I cooed. She did, and what an astonished expression was on her face when she saw Amy. She turned to me and I quickly said "Helen meet Amy. Amy, Helen. Amy, Helen's going to tie you up."
"Hap ... happy birthday, Helen," stammered Amy, her nervousness returning as she rose to her feet and offered a trembling hand for Helen to shake.
Helen's astonishment grew and grew, and her jaw dropped until I thought it would fall off. She just stood there for what seemed an endless time, until she suddenly leapt to attention with an ecstatic smile and flung her gloved arms tightly around me. "Oh you wonderful dear, you great wonderful dear," she sobbed as she showered me with kisses. I nearly suffocated before she finished. She then hugged Amy, her black garb and well-tanned skin such a contrast to Amy's angelic white bikini and pale complexion.
The introductions over, I pointed Helen to the box and settled down on the sofa to watch the girls having fun.
At the top of the box was a roll of wide sticky tape. Helen made Amy fold her hands into fists, then wrapped both hands tightly with lots and lots of tape until they were completely covered. Amy's fingers were now absolutely useless. Even without Helen's knot-tying skills, Amy would now find it pretty hard to escape.
"Hands behind back now," said Helen, really getting into the swing of her fantasy. She fastened a pair of handcuffs round Amy's dainty wrists. These were expensive, heavy duty handcuffs, not sex shop toys. The cuffs were joined by a hinge, not a chain, so Amy's hands were held close together with very little scope for movement. They were soon restricted even more, as Helen wrapped lots more tape round and round Amy's hands, forcing them to stay in contact.
Helen pulled a length of rope from the box. It was bright green, a nice contrast to her black clothes and Amy's white ones. She draped it round the back of Amy's neck and over both her shoulders. Then she took the free ends, passed them through Amy's armpits and tied them together behind Amy's back, making a tight loop.
"Now, let's lay you down," said Helen, helping Amy to lie face down on the floor with her legs spread apart. She fondled Amy's delectable pert bottom (how I wish I could have done that!), then took a short spreader bar and fastened a strap round each of Amy's shapely thighs, just above the knee. Now Amy could not close her legs together. Helen folded Amy's legs in half until her feet touched. A second pair of handcuffs went on Amy's ankles. A small pair of thumbcuffs held Amy's big toes together.
"Now comes the crucial bit, my dear," said Helen, lifting Amy's head with one hand. Open wide." As Amy obligingly complied, Helen stuffed one of Amy's own socks in.
"Mmmph," said Amy, as Helen forced first that sock, then the second one, into Amy's mouth. There did not seem to be enough room, and by the time they were both in, Amy's cheeks were bulging and she was clearly uncomfortable. Swiftly, Helen began to fasten on a head harness. This took some time, as there were lots of straps and buckles to sort out, but eventually Helen managed it. One strap went over Amy's mouth, with a plug on it pushing the socks even further in. Another went under Amy's chin and squeezed her cheeks back in, making it even harder for Amy to make any sounds of protest or to attempt to eject the socks. A heavily padded blindfold stopped any trace of light from reaching Amy's eyes. Helen pulled the straps as tight as she could. She then went in for a bit of overkill, by wrapping more sticky tape round and round Amy's head over the harness. I suspected that Amy was starting to get a little bit worried. She was completely helpless now, unable even to complain, and utterly at the mercy of two people she had never met before.
But helpless as Amy was, Helen still had much more in store for her. Passing a few loops of green rope round Amy's elbows, she started pulling them tight and pushing the elbows together. Try as she might, she could not quite get Amy's elbows to touch, but it was a close thing. She tied the rope tightly, cinching the loops together, then tied another loop round those ropes and the koop round Amy's shoulders. "There now," she said with a note of triumph in her voice, "the elbow bonds aren't going to slip off whatever you do, my cute little plaything. And now, much as I love that bikini, it's in the way." With that, Helen undid the bows on the bikini bottom and took it off. She soon had the top off as well, exposing Amy's pert breasts. Amy hadn't expected that, but obviously she could say nothing but "mmmph". Those breasts looked so gorgeous, the elbow bondage making them even more prominent than they were naturally, that I had to restrain myself from joining in the fun.
Amy started as she felt something pressed against her bottom. "This is a butt plug, a good big one darling," said Helen. "Now you just relax, because there's nothing you can do to stop it going in and it'll hurt less if you relax." Sure enough, after a bit of a struggle and lots of twisting and fiddling, it went right inside Amy. And indeed the poor girl could do nothing but wave her bound legs and make faint noises through her extremely effective gag.
"Hmm, you can wave your legs too much my girl," said Helen. Pushing Amy's feet until her heels pressed against her bottom, Helen put loops of rope tightly round Amy's shins and thighs, holding her legs tightly in position. Another length of rope went round the handcuffs at Amy's wrists, through a ring in the middle of the spreader bar, and back up to a ring at the back of the head harness. As Helen pulled hard on the rope, Amy's body was forced into an arch and her head was pulled agonisingly back. Helen pulled and pulled, while Amy could do no more than "mmmmmph". Eventually, she tied it off. "Just one more rope, my toy," cooed Helen. This one went from the ring on the head harness down to the thumbcuffs on Amy's toes and was pulled tight, forcing her into a yet tighter arch.
With an effort, Helen turned Amy onto her back. Amy's pert breasts really stood out now, thanks to the elbow bondage and the arch of her back. Helen played with them, sucking the nipples alternately until they were hard. (I just sat there, sitting on my hands, squirming. Fortunately, Helen was to absorbed in her game to notice.) Then she put a clamp on each nipple. Amy twitched as the clamps dug in, but she could barely move and even her "mmmph" was not very loud. Helen slipped a rubber band round the base of each breast, making them bulge even more. "I'm told this makes the breasts more sensitive so you can feel what I'm doing better," she said playfully.
As Amy lay on her back, stark naked and with her legs apart, there was only one thing to be done. Helen took a large dildo, carefully manoeuvred it between Amy's legs then suddenly rammed it in. Amy could scarcely react.
Far into the night my wife enjoyed her present, before slowly and reluctantly leaving her in a helpless bundle on the floor and taking me upstairs so that I could receive appropriate thanks.
What can I get my lovely wife next year to top this present? Maybe she'll still have Amy!
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