One Plus One bondage story | rope, chain, slave, spider

Naked, gagged and with her hands cuffed behind her back Melanie swung gently on the end of the rope that was wrapped around her ankles. Only minutes before she had been elegantly dressed in her floor-length black pencil-slim evening gown and eagerly anticipating the evening to come. Events had moved with a bewildering and most unexpected speed.

She had trusted him explicitly. In those first three encounters he had been so kind and considerate. With his soft respectful voice and courteous manners she had found him irresistible; at times he was so funny that...? The invitation to dinner had been welcomed with a joyous abandon.

Although at just twenty-one the occasion when she had lost her virginity had faded into a dim and distant past but the sexual hunger that it had kindled had come to dominate her life. She just knew that tonight held such promise and so she had prepared with immense care because this could be THE night to remember.

He'd taken her wrap and offered a drink; then, standing very close, that soft and thrilling voice had proposed an hors-oeuvre of a new kind. He wanted to show her something new. She was game, yes, and he had conducted her to this dimly lit room and asked her to remove her dress. This early in the evening...? Before the intimate meal...? New, certainly!

She'd turned her back and suggested, just a little saucily, that he pull down the zip that extended from between her shoulders almost to her crotch. She'd stepped out of the garment to reveal the evanescent black bra and the wisp that served as a G-string. His hands on her shoulders had bid her remain facing away from him and then she felt his lips softly nuzzle the side of her neck. Almost unnoticed he'd reached past her, taken a gentle hold on her wrists and pulled them behind her. The cuffs were locked on before she'd had any inkling of his purpose.

His voice had soothed her alarm as his hands kept her facing away and then they had appeared before her face holding that tub-shaped thing that now she knew for a roll of duct tape. He'd sealed her mouth, pressing her head firmly and deliberately against his chest, before dropping down to wrap several turns around her ankles.

"Actually," he'd confided in that soft voice, "the gag is not strictly necessary because this part of the house is sound-proofed. But I do detest screaming women. And, I must confess, I have a great thing about a taped mouth. Now, you are almost ready for that surprise experience I promised." That was when he had removed her bra and string with the aid of a knife he'd produced seemingly from nowhere.

Melanie was not a stranger to bondage but the speed with which she had been reduced to helplessness was outside her experience and she found herself strangely aroused by the small fear that was growing within her. He'd laid his roll of tape on the floor, moved to her front and pulled her down over his shoulder. She was carried across the room and through a door into a brightly-lit area but, as yet, she could see only the door through which they had entered.

He'd set her down on her feet where a white rope lay on the floor; he then wrapped the end of that rope several times around her ankles before he cinched it. Next he closed the door and, from its hanging place behind, he took down a small control box. With a hand on her bosom he pushed her gently causing her to fall; he caught her and laid her full length. Then, as he pressed a finger on that control-box, the rope shortened, tightened and finally hoisted her to the present position where she swung helplessly with her head about three feet above the floor.

She had a right to be fearful but, in truth, her immediate thought had been: "Certainly a new way to invite a girl to dinner. Well ... this girl at any rate."

His hand pressing against her buttocks stopped the swaying motion and began to propel her toward a strange-looking machine in one corner. She appeared to be suspended from a trolley which carried her into the machine until she stopped with her face resting in the crack between two vertical and long soft-covered rollers. Then she was lowered until her head came clear under them and just her body remained in contact.

"What do you know about spiders?" The question elicited a shudder from her. "That was silly of me. I doubt it's safe for you to be gagged like that while upwards-down and so let's have it off. But no screaming mind." Carefully he pulled at the tape.

"If you don't mind ... I'd just as well do without it. But spiders give me the shivers. Sorry ... but that's the way it is."

"Arachnophobia is not uncommon," he replied, "and, as such, the long legged beasties will play no part at all in your immediate future. However, I do admire your ... how do they put it ... laid-back acceptance of my mistreatment."

"It might have made a difference had you given me a choice from tonight's dinner menu. But what now?"

"Ah, yes. Now, as an amateur chemist, I am going to introduce you to my pet research project. It involves not spiders but the silk threads they produce.

"Did you know that, for its size and weight, spiders' silk is stronger than our finest steel?"

She shook her head.

"No. Well, to demonstrate the point, the rope on which you are suspended at the moment is made of just such a material. It's soft as silk. It's very strong. Extremely flexible and stretches like a good elastic. I must confess that I have long dreamed of using it to capture a woman. And I am resolved that, tonight, I shall do that very thing. But, not to worry... I have no intention of robbing you of the promised dinner."

He crossed to a corner cabinet from which he removed a roll of mutton-cloth sold perhaps as cleaning material. It was of tubular form and very stretchy. He cut off a length some three or four feet, knotted one end and then turned it inside-out. Next he opened it out and pulled it up over her head. "Can't use sticky silk thread over your face and hair so ... just a little precaution," he explained. "I've placed that knot to the side so it shouldn't give you any trouble." He stretched it around her shoulders and, after a quick trip to the previous room, secured it in place with a round of the duct tape.

He moved across to a pillar-like structure and backed away seeming to hold something between his finger and thumb. "Here," he explained, "is my version of spider silk. Perhaps from your position you can't see it? It's certainly very thin and transparent and you'd not believe how sticky it is." Saying which he pressed his thumb against her upper arm just below the shoulder but above the duct tape.

She twisted her head up, trying to see what he had done, but could not discern anything through the veil-like covering although she was aware of a tugging sensation on her arm. "Have you watched a spider catching prey? If they don't wish to consume it on the spot then they secure it against future need by wrapping it in silk. Don't be alarmed ... I am not looking on you as supper but I am about to try wrapping you in my silk in the manner of our eight-legged ... no ... of course, they are not numbered amongst YOUR friends."

He bent to pick-up the little control box and pressed a button: "Here we go." The two rollers against which she was pressed began to rotate and they caused her to rotate also on the end of her rope. Her practical mind wondered if he had a swivel where the rope joined the winch cable?

Quickly she became aware that the tugging sensation on her arm had extended across her back to the other arm and then, as she came around to full circle, she could feel the silk thread cross her other arm. Round and round she was driven and the feel of the thread began to extend down her arms and across her breasts. "Just what the hell did he...?" But still she felt less of fear but more of curiosity as to what this was leading toward. There was a sort-of comfort too in the fact that she could do nothing about the proceeding. Nothing at all.

The binding continued down to her elbows and, as it crept towards her wrists, slowly her arms were being pinned to her body. Then he stopped the rollers. "Time to take off those cuffs," he said cheerfully.

"Am I to understand that you are enjoying this?"

"Oh, immensely and with even greater anticipation. You aren't having fun?"

"Well ... so far in our acquaintance ... this is the first time you've shown any lack of imagination or of concern."

"Your own lack of concern at capture indicates that you do not object to bondage."

"No, I don't. But I was invited to dinner."

"And dinner you certainly shall have. But first ... we work up an appetite."

At the end of half-an-hour Melanie was cocooned from shoulders to shins; he'd stopped the machine a second time to remove the tape from her ankles and then, ten minutes later, she was ready for any spider's larder.

He stood for a while examining his bound booty: "Now I have a fair idea of a spider's happiness in times of plenty."

"As long as one of us has an enjoyable vista."

"At the moment," he said, "you are covered all over in sticky. So ... " Once again he cut off a long length of the mutton cloth and pulled the end up over her head to knot it around her neck. Then he opened the other end and rolled it up her body finally taping it off around her suspension rope. "Now you are presentable."

"I was that before you started these shenanigans. I feel like a side of beef in a butcher's cooler."

"Yes ... but you're so much smaller and now you are so much more exciting."

"But less accessible, surely?"

"You are being naughty. But, if I gag you again, you won't be able to eat dinner."

"Interesting possibilities all round."

"You really are something. However ... can I invite you to dinner?"

"If I say no?"

"Ah. A woman with imagination. I am sure that you said 'It will give me the greatest of pleasure'? "

He lowered her gently to the floor, cut away the suspension rope with what looked like miniature bolt-cutters and hoisted her over his shoulder. In the dining room a long refectory table seemed to be laid for one but the mystery lasted only moments. She was laid along the table with her head next to the main-place setting. He picked up a pair of nail scissors and cut a small opening around her mouth and nose: "You might well strain the soup through that cloth ... but roast duck is another matter."

The other side of his place stood a small hand-bell; it's ringing produced a surprise in the form of a young scantily dressed serving girl with a chain between her wrists: "May I introduce Sheherazadeh, my slave-girl. She will serve us and see to many of your needs."

"Slave? We don't have slaves today."

"Nevetheless ... my slave she is. You might call her an indentured slave. She attends me at weekends according to contract. I have long considered that you might join her?"

"In your dreams, buster. I'll serve no man in that way."

"Hmm. Coming from one in your present position ... would not that seem a trifle whimsical?"

Melanie was at a loss for answer. In truth she was enjoying her present helpless captivity but there was a tinge of anxiety in what remained unknown. Strictly he had taken her without her consent but her mounting fear had been set aside with the appearance of Sheherazadeh - or whatever her true name might be. But his challenge brought home the fact that, if indeed he was minded to keep her as a slave, there was precious little that Melanie could do to stop him.

Perhaps he was deliberately teasing her? Trying to turn her from her "laid-back" attitude that he confessed to admire? She wouldn't let him win such a mind game but ... if it wasn't a game? If on release he simply slapped her into iron restraints? The clink of a chain brought Sheherazadeh into view; would the chained girl allow Melanie's enforced captivity? Contract or otherwise there arose the question as to how much freedom the slave-girl possessed. Did she support all these goings on? Was she indeed a fellow captive or an associate of her captor playing a part?

Her whirling thoughts were abruptly terminated as a laden fork was thrust to her mouth. Conversation lapsed while he fed her during which the slave-girl Sheherazadeh struggled to keep the food under control. When the meal was finished he seized the girl by her chain and led her from the room. On his return he carried Melanie to what appeared to be a lounge, or maybe his study, where to her intense indignation he hung her head down in front of and to the left of his large easy-chair before the fire.

He gave no heed to her vociferous objections but left the room and for some uncounted minutes she jigged, spun, swayed and struggled with furious energy but all to little effect. His spider-silk was everything he claimed for it. When he returned he was carrying another silk-wrapped form which she guessed to be Sheherazadeh and he suspended them side by side.

He seated himself in the chair, poured a brandy from the little table at his elbow and, surveying his cocooned and helplessly-gyrating victims, began to recite:

"Won't you come into my parlour said the Spider to the Fly ... "

It was as he drained the last of his drink that Melanie began to moan and bounce. He grinned as he poured a second. When at last she gave a strangled scream and subsided into stillness he rose and crossed to her side. "That could well terminate the entertainment. Now, do you want to return home or will you stay the night?"

"Are you sending me home like this?"

"I think that would present certain problems. You would go home exactly as you arrived here. But, if you stay, then certainly you stay as you are. I think Sheherazadeh would appreciate the company."

"If I stay ... where do I sleep?"

"My you are a fuss-pot. So cosy in that cocoon ... what possible difference can it make where you sleep?"

"The difference is that Sheherazadeh is here by choice ... or so you tell me ... whereas I am hanging here like a bat by YOUR choice. Objections are the only things you have left me."

"Well, now. That could easily be taken care of. Nagging women were the inspiration for the bridle, were they not?"

"That would make you guilty of kidnap, false imprisonment, assault and heaven knows what else."

"Yes. But one does not get punished in this world for doing such wicked things. Only for getting caught at it? Suppose that I put you in my cellar and chain you to the wall until such time as I decide to bury you down there?"

"In that event ... you would win. Nobody would miss me for a couple of days and nobody knows where I went tonight."

"Hmm. Sheherazadeh! You shall be referee. Who is the winner here?"

"Master. Is it kind to ask when you have me at a severe disadvantage? But I scored it as a draw. While Melanie here has no choices and is totally without control you are faced with doing the unthinkable or backing down. In the end ... indubitably ... it is your call."

"I had intended that you spend the night hanging there and I had hopes that Melanie might be keeping you company. But for that excellent piece of wisdom ... you shall both rest in a comfortable bed. You stay bound ... you'll keep each other company ... but in your own beds. I have spoken."

Melanie awoke. It was a slow transition that brought a steadily increasing awareness that she was stiff, too hot and far from comfortable. With the realisation that she was not in her own bedroom she rolled over meaning to throw back the covers ... but she couldn't move. Suddenly very much awake she would have sat up ... but she couldn't move!

Through the white haze that obscured her vision she could see another bed on which there lay ... and memory came flooding back. Before they had gone to sleep she had learned that her roommate's name was properly Lena and that their "Master" was no more dangerous than an overgrown boy. He was never more happy than when playing his kinky games. But they could only wait and see what he had in mind for the new day.

She called softly but Lena was apparently still asleep. Then it occurred to her that, in the strong sunlight that was streaming through a window, her view through the cotton-mesh hood was much less clear than it had been last night. When she shook her head it was obvious that there was a deal of woolliness beyond the veil over her eyes. With a sudden suspicion she made a determined effort to fight the silken cocoon that was holding her and, to her great delight, she felt it give. A minute later and, with a convulsive lunge, her legs burst into freedom. She redoubled her effort and was soon sitting in the centre of a mass of white fluffy detritus that seemed to be growing all around her.

"Good morning. I see you have discovered my Achilles heel."

There was no mistaking the voice and, leaning sideways, she discovered him lying on a mattress between the two beds. "I remembered you saying that you were an amateur in the chemistry business. Better things to follow?"

"I think it may be better to keep it as it is. Provides a sort of safety net, wouldn't you say? I'm more than satisfied with the performance of my beautiful silk thread for the first nine or ten hours. Depends on the endurance of the prey, of course. Perhaps I can design the period of stability to match the appetite ... but then I've always considered the practice of hanging game as just failure to understand the necessities of pre-refrigeration. Nevertheless ... a storeroom filled with dangling cocooned maids such as we sampled last night ... ?

"But ... er ... talking of food ... wake Sheherazadeh and hop into the shower. Tell her to see that you are properly dressed. I'll start breakfast."

Twenty minutes later, as both girls entered the dining room, Melanie was wearing a chain similar to Sheherazadeh's between her hands. The table was laid with two settings along one side next to the master setting at the table's head.

Said he sternly: "You cannot come to table improperly dressed. Seat yourselves and redress the matter."

As Melanie followed Sheherazadeh to take a place at the table she was startled to see the two neck-cuffs that lay beside their plates. With a giggle of delight Sheherazadeh picked up hers and closed it around her neck. He came up behind her, checked it for tightness and then locked it with a key hanging on a ring he drew from his pocket. Melanie still sat as though mesmerised. Gently and deliberately he placed the other cuff around her neck but still she made no response. He clicked it slowly until, satisfied with its adjustment, he used his key to lock it.

"Now," he said, "tuck in."

But Melanie was brought back to reality. She seized the chain that hung from her cuff and drew it through her hands to reveal that it led directly to Sheherazadeh's neck. She gave it a gentle tug then, much harder, she tugged on her end of the chain. She shivered and a smile came to her lips: "It seems," she said quietly," that we are to be sisters in bondage?"

"At no more than six feet," replied the impish partner. "Eat."

"I wonder," he mused. "Who could we try next? It could extend right down the table, around the end and then back up the other side. Let me see now: One, two, three ... four...."