Simple Loops bondage story | rope, gag, handcuff

"You're always fiddling with that old bit of string."

"Not string," I said: "It's small rope."

"Words. You're just splitting hairs." She meant to sound contemptuous.

"Not at all. String is cheap rough old stuff meant for mundane jobs such as tying up parcels or sacks or garden plants. Rope is made with more care and with better materials so that it has real strength and is durable."

"Hmmph." Then after a moment's thought: "But why are you always fiddling with it - whatever you want to call it?"

"I'm interested in knots. They've always fascinated me. Some you can only tie in small rope; others only work in thick heavy ones. It used to be an important skill for sailors."

"How can a knot be interesting? String - rope, if you will - is either knotted or it's not knotted, if you see what I mean."

The pun told me that she was getting interested despite the air of scorn. "There are lots of knots," I replied, "they're different and they each have their own use."

"Oh yeah?" And then: "Show me."

"Well, this must be one you know." Quickly I spun it into the hangman's knot and dangled it in front of her. "Just pull and it strangles. Add a jerk - and it breaks your neck."

"You're horrid."

"Well, you did ask." I unrolled it and tied an overhand: "This is the one most people use and it's probably the least useful. Hardly holds at all."

"It's all right if you tie two knots."

"Yes. But I'm talking about the holding power of a single knot in its own right. But even two overhands are hardly reliable. For a knot that will hold you can't beat the round-turn-and-two half hitches. Lend me your wrist a moment."

Holding her by the forearm I turned the rope around her wrist and, using my right-hand fingers only, quickly fashioned the two half hitches. "See?" I pulled on the standing part. "If the knot slips at all it merely tightens its grip."

She took the rope from me and pulled experimentally against her wrist. "Judging by the way you tied that with one hand - you practice a lot. Go on, then."

"What about the bowline?" I said removing my rope from her wrist. Very simple, very quick to tie. Can't let go however much you strain it because it's self locking."

She merely granted me a brief nod. "Well, then. You can pass the standing part through the bowline and get a running bowline which is useful for a quick and secure slip knot or running noose. Like this." I popped the loop over her wrist.

"Doesn't hold."

"By itself, no. But there's lots more that do and each has its use in different situations." I saw opportunity raising its hand to knock. "Here's one that holds only under given conditions. It's called the tomfool knot." I handed it to her. "It's a way of tying a bow in the middle of a rope without having the ends free. Has several uses; lorry drivers use a version to get their ropes tight. Try pulling the ends."

She pulled ... and laughed as the knot evaporated: "That's why it's called the tomfool knot. But..." I retied it: "Now try putting your hands in the loops."

For a moment she hesitated and looked at me suspiciously. My attempt at unconcern seemed to work because she held out her hands and I slipped the loops over them. Drawing the ends gently I said: "Just two simple loops can be many things. I first learned this as Boy-scouts' handcuffs."

She started slightly and hastily jerked on her hands; of course the loops slid open. "Some handcuffs," she sniffed.

"But, " I said. "Add a simple overhand knot..." Drawing the loops about her wrists again I tied the knot. "Doesn't slip now?"

She pulled ... then she raised her hands to her mouth and so used her teeth to free herself.

"N. B. G." she said with deliberate sarcasm.

"You wouldn't escape if the rope was a bit longer." I refastened the knot and carried the ends behind her. "They only just meet. If I could tie another - even simple - knot here you would be trapped."

"But it's not any longer, is it?"

"The trouble with you," I complained, "is that you don't appreciate my skill."

"If I ever get kidnapped I won't worry too much if they can match your skill."

"That's not fair.So far I've shown you only the simple knots. Little more than simple loops."

"Well?"

I thought: 'She's hooked. She's starting to deride me. Going to try make me eat humble pie.'

"Well, here's a useful one used everyday. Just hold this between your hands like that. That's it." I pulled the second rope from my pocket and started looping and knotting it. "It's the knot used by all net-makers from fishermen to greengrocers."

"Doesn't look very impressive," she scorned. "They're all the same and look as though they'd come loose if you shook it."

"True.But then this rope is really too thick for making nets. Use very thin stuff ... like crochet thread ... and the result is very different. I think crochet work is one of the greatest. I saw a whole floor-length dress once made by some intrepid crochet worker. It looked terrific. As a matter of fact ... I 've often thought I'd like to see it on you."

For a long moment she held my eyes while I began to unravel the netting. Then she began to colour and then, to my glee, she lowered her gaze. "Don't tell me you don't know how I feel about you."

Emboldened by the continued silence, I challenged her: "I think you'd like to be in that dress too."

She flared. Up went her hand and she aimed a savage slap for which I was more than ready. I caught her wrist, pushed it up high, pulled the prepared handcuff knot from my pocket and slipped one loop over that wrist. Holding the knot by the centre it was fairly easy to capture the other hand and, triumphantly, I pulled the two ends ... hard. "That," I said as I let go, "is known as the handcuff knot. It's a self-locking knot and you won't get out of it so easily. If at all. No need for a second knot with that one."

She was cross. No! She was mad. She fought the knot but it held and she grew even madder. For perhaps a full minute she twisted and squirmed but she was no nearer to getting free. When she stopped she glowered at me for a moment and then stamped her foot. I picked up that second rope: "Here's another. It's called a fisherman's bend. It has the useful property that it never pulls tight and is always easy to untie even when wet. Never slips either."

I hitched it around her right upper arm, just above the elbow, ran it across her back and hitched the other end to her left arm. Stretched tightly it pulled her shoulders back so that now she couldn't even pull against the handcuff. It did other things to her anatomy too. "How do you rate my skills now, hmm?"

"It's unfair to mock me when I'm tied up."

"But you were mocking me before?"

"That was different."

"Mmm yes. Oh yes. I see the logic of that."

But she was looking at the ground and remained silent. She also remained red in the face although it clearly was no longer anger. She began to fidget with her wrist rope: "How long are you going to keep me like this?"

"Depends really. How long do you want me to keep you like that?"

"That's NOT an answer."

"I'll not force you to do anything you don't wish to. But I am receiving a distinct impression that you like being tied up like that?"

"Nobody ever tied me before ... although ... "

"Although?"

"I... I've often thought about it. I've often wondered what it would be like to be kidnapped."

"Very frightening, I should think. Shall I kidnap you?"

She twisted her wrists again but didn't reply. I slid the leather belt out from the top of my jeans - it was but a macho decoration - and used it to bind her ankles together; it went round twice easily before I threaded the buckle and drew it tight. "Of course. Were I a real kidnapper I'd need a gag as well - I bet you'd scream the sky down?"

She smiled at that sally. "There's a large silk scarf in my bag."

I found the scarf but noticed that her shoulder bag was held on a long double strap that passed through D-rings on each side and fastened with a buckle in the middle. I gagged her first - that way she couldn't object - then I lifted her, laid her on the ground, rolled her on to her tummy and used that bag-strap to hog-tie her. "Now," I said, "you're well on the way to being kidnapped."

She thrashed and rolled around in a manner that, down in the crotch, gave me food for thought. I had never before seen a real girl in a state of real helplessness. And she looked absolutely wonderful. I wondered how long I could keep her like that; wouldn't do to frighten her off. But she did seem to be enjoying herself? My thoughts wandered to that crochet dress. Now, if only she was...

But she was lying quietly on the ground, face down. God, I hope she's OK. I knelt and rolled her on to her side. Her face coloured instantly but, above that gag, her eyes were positively dancing. And, in truth, the gag had to be more symbolic that practical. "I said you liked being tied up. By me? But I'll have to find somewhere to stash you. I suggest we adjourn for another time?"

It is wonderful the way small acorns grow into large oak trees. All that happened many moons ago. My skill with knots has grown with so much and such regular, practice but my wife insists that she doesn't remember that first encounter with my restraints. But when, rope in hand, I see that enduring twinkle dancing in her bright eyes surely I cannot be blamed if I doubt her word.