Sucker bondage story | rope bound, blindfold

SUCKER ! OH, SUCKER INDEED!

Oh yes, she had been suckered and she had none but herself to blame. She should have known better but that tingle down deep in her groin had been unknown for such a long time that she had allowed excitement to override every other instinct.

In those childhood games the boys had always wanted her to be the captive, to be tied up in every conceivable manner and held in any and every hiding place while they contrived either to keep her or to discover the hiding place and rescue her. Rescue? All they had ever done was simply to transfer her 'ownership'!

Always of course she had offered token objection to that captivity but had been careful not to offer serious resistance until after the first ropes had made final subjugation inevitable. She had revelled in helplessness. She still remembered being bound hand and foot as they tied a long rope around her ankles and were in the process of hauling her up into the tree when her Mother had discovered them. Oh, yes! She had given them hell and had banned all rope games for the whole of the summer months. In the following weeks she had dreamed often of spinning helplessly in the breeze like a spider's captured prey, dangling head down as the boys whooped and danced around her. But it never came to pass; her Mother had seen to that only too well.

And so when these two terrible twins, left in the charge of Auntie Tasha, had pleadingly asked her to be the hostage in their pretend bank robbery she had hesitated only momentarily as the rising heat swamped her better judgement. Obediently, under the threat of their pointed fingers, she had turned her back and stood patiently while they tied a blindfold over her eyes. Then they had pulled her hands behind her back - and she should have known immediately because the boys should not have had access to handcuffs?

She had never worn cuffs before but knew at once the significance of the clicking noise and the hard contact on her wrists. But the old familiar thrill came from far-off times to override reason and she had given herself over to the welcome sensations. Then they tied rope around her middle and with a gruff: "Put her in the van" had led her out into the garden.

They must have gone round the plot two or three times before she was halted and ordered to sit on the ground. The rope was pulled under something, passed through her cuffs, pulled tightly down and then knotted off again around her waist. She was firmly tied down! Back again in that childhood dream-time she had not heard the alarm bells until someone had pushed the ball into her mouth and started to buckle it at her nape. Too late! Far, far too late. Whoever it might be they had her, well and truly had her - and she knew that it wasn't the twins. With her wrists locked behind her and tied firmly to the ground, with her eyes covered and her voice reduced to a series of weird moans the only thing she could do was wait. At that moment she had even forgotten the twins' part in the trap.

Hands began to tug at the blindfold and her growing suspicions were realised. Yes, it was him. And she was in his garden, which explained the long walk she thought had been around their own garden. The boys must have handed her over almost as soon as they had bound her? She'd been under his control almost the whole time!

She offered some cutting remark but it sounded like a muted warning siren. For a fleeting moment she knew fear but not for other than that fleeting moment; Dominick would never hurt her. She had been giving him a rough time for two months now ever since, down on the beach, he had inveigled her into getting her hands bound and then her feet in a sack before he had buried her in the sand.

Not for the world would she have let him guess how much she had enjoyed the experience. He should have obtained her agreement first. Instead of lodging a complaint, she had hugged it all to herself while giving Dom the absolute in cold shoulders. She refused all invitations, refused to talk to him when he telephoned - she just put the receiver back on the hook. She cut him dead whenever they met on the street and took a demoniac delight in publicly repeating the act at the New Year's Ball to which she had refused his invitation. Oh, yes. She had shown him and intended that he should suffer much more yet before she would relent. Then perhaps they could really enjoy some bondage played with her rules.

He was standing looking down at his captive with an enigmatic smile playing over his lips. It had never before occurred to her that his shortened name was so appropriate; could his parents have been possessed of some inkling of the future? His six-foot-one frame, fine musculature, athletic step - and yes - handsome features under the crisp curly hair gave him a most dominating appearance. Especially when, at five-foot-four you sat helplessly on the ground and peered up at him. Despite her determination to continue hating him for some time yet there was growing in her mind the knowledge that she was losing the battle.

"You wouldn't come to me, nor would you allow me to come to you and so I have been obliged to spend money on bribes to bring you to heel. By the way, you should beware of those little beggars, your nephews. They figured out how badly I wanted you and they took me to the cleaners. But take comfort in the knowledge that they exacted some strict rules for your ultimate protection. Now, may we proceed, please?"

What the hell did he expect? She had his ball-gag jammed in her mouth and not even his over-confidence could decipher the only sounds she could wind out. He left her there and went into the house. She could only presume that he was preparing something for her?

He was soon back and stooped behind her to release the tie holding her down. But then he transferred the rope to binding her ankles together before he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her inside his house. To her alarm he carried her up the stairs and dumped her on a bed with sufficient force that she bounced twice. Perhaps he saw the look on her face: "Nothing to worry about," he said: "I aim to tame you by force but rape is not for me. If ever you come into my bed it will be by your own decision."

"In your dreams, buster," but the unspoken cliche failed to carry conviction. He was replacing the blindfold.

"I expect you are familiar with the works of Beatrix Potter? Remember that Peter Rabbit - I think it was Peter - was captured and rolled into a pasty or roly-poly of some sort? That is what I have in mind for my rebellious slave."

She bristled at the term - but she sensed that it only added to his delight. "Yes, " he said; "now it's my turn."

He pulled her and the duvet both down the bed and then re-positioned her until her head was clear of the cover. He then proceeded with thorough care to roll her into it until she had become a fat roly-poly indeed. With wide leather straps waiting ready he bound her into an outsize sausage. "Now, what are we to do with you? If I leave you there it will mean that I can't sleep in my own bed."

Was he intending to keep her like this all night? That would give him some problems to solve, surely?

"I have it!" He fetched a long rope which he hitched around her shoulders and then took it over one shoulder to knot it at the back to itself. Then, with a series of hitches, he worked his way down to her feet and finished off with four complete turns before knotting the rope. The rest of the rope he then threw over a beam that crossed the ceiling and Tasha found herself living that childhood spider-fantasy dream - she was swaying back and forth and spinning around and around. In her imagination the room, the bed and Dom himself passed repeatedly before her blindfolded eyes as the two motions began to compound and she was spinning around in a circular track.

Dom interrupted by catching her and removing the gag but she was too involved in the excitement of this situation. She closed her eyes and allowed the heat to rise through her. Even through the blindfold and her lowered eyelids she still saw herself spinning in her cocoon on the end of a rope and she began to spiral upward - ever upward.

Duvets are designed to conserve heat but this was something else. Something new in her experience. Suddenly came the urge and she fought the handcuffs, the rope, the duvet, the straps. Dom stood watchfully by as she thrashed furiously on the end of her rope. The gyrations grew ever more wild until she arched upward, grew rigid for seconds and then slowly relaxed.

With an arm around her shoulders he guided her back on to the bed and began, tenderly, to remove the blindfold. He waited until she opened her eyes and kissed the smile that spread slowly over her lips. "Here endeth the first lesson," he said softly.

"The last lesson?"

"Not if you're my girl."

She wriggled deliciously: "I always was, you idiot."

"That is no way for a slave to talk to her master. She is permitted to speak only after permission has been given and she is on her knees."

"And how does a slave get on to her knees when a self-styled master has her hanging from the ceiling in handcuffs?"

"It's the will that counts, not the act."

"I'm getting very hot," she said.