The Morning After | bed tied bondage story

I had just started my (was it my thirty?) - third cup of coffee when I heard it. It could have been a morning-after hangover cry of anguish? The second one however was different. Surprise? Anger? Not exactly a cry of joy but then it certainly wasn't a cry of fear - and that put an end to my immediate worry.

I put down the cup and moved quietly to the bedroom door but I stayed outside and she didn't see me at once. She had no choice of course but to be on her back and I could view her at my leisure. Neither of us was young chicken meat but I had to say she had taken good care of herself. She had a flat - very flat - tummy and still shapely legs. Her breasts could not be expected to show the firm roundness of a woman of twenty but, for some one in the mid-fifties... what can you say?

I had been afraid that she would panic on awakening but she was taking it very calmly and so I entered. Janet was my next door neighbour; our two flats were identical but mirror images in that together they form a pair of semi-detached... I hesitate to call them houses. Extremely small but adequate living spaces. Over the last two years, we had become firm friends but nothing more. We shared our woes and celebrated each other's joys.

Which is where this story begins. The morning post had brought me a cheque - someone had bought one of my stories. On the strength of that one and only - and possibly my last success, I took Janet out for a slap-up dinner. We dressed up and had a great time. Well it was great at the start. I was paying for the dinner and so Janet insisted that she would supply champagne.

The small bottle ran to just about two glasses each. As the meal progressed, Janet began to depart from her usual rather careful self and became increasingly animated. Her eyes began to sparkle, her conversation took on a new kind of zip. She was becoming positively coquettish and I was beginning to like this unsuspected new Janet even more than the steady one of whom I had become very fond.

I picked up the bottle, vaguely wondering if it was wise to finish it, only to discover that it was empty. I hadn't seen her pour it but, without doubt, here was the answer to her change of character. The champers had come to an end but she seemed to be getting ever higher and so I decided to call it an evening. I called for and paid the bill and then began the task of cajoling her out to the car.

It wasn't so very difficult until we reached the outside; the cool air seemingly made her explode. "Phew. It's so hot," she said and began to disrobe. I held her in what was close to a half-nelson and rushed her across to the car. I had to force her into her seat and then, much to her increasing merriment, fastened her seatbelt and pulled the buckles down tight.

Back home, it got steadily worse as she left a trail of coat, shoes, bag along the path between car and door. I pushed her in and began to gather up her things. Back inside her flat, the trail continued into her bedroom. My thoughts turned to strong black coffee and I went to put water on to heat. After that... the rest is pretty much a blank.

She turned her head to look at me; her eyes were now dark and round but she seemed to be back to the normal Janet that I had known throughout our neighbourly occupations. "What... ? How did... ? But..."

"You ought to be feeling pretty grim," I admonished.

"No. Not particularly. But why am I stark naked and tied... ?" Her voice faded away, leaving the questions in the air.

"You're starkers," I said, "because you took off all your clothes. I had to collect them from a continuous line between the car and where you are now."

A whole range of emotions flitted across her face. They started with disbelief and ended with a tinge of... I'll call it concern.

"Why have you tied me like this?"

"Does it have to be me?"

"I can only judge by your anxiety to release me. Yes, of course it's you. Why?"

"For your own safety."

"Safety? You mean I was bent on raping myself?"

I couldn't help laughing. "You know, I thought that might be on your mind." I reached out a hand and she twisted away but the ropes didn't let her get far. I rubbed her scalp just above the hairline over her nose and saw her wince. "That hurt?"

"What the hell did you hit me with?"

"You jumped into the wall. That's why I tied you to the bed."

"Jumped... ?"

"You got the quaint idea of having sex on top of the wardrobe. That wasn't so original but your idea of achieving it certainly was. I started to make some coffee but... when I came back in here, you had your bedside chair there wobbling about on top of your dressing table stool and you were trying to get from the top of that pile up on to there. Didn't you know that you can't handle alcohol?"

"Well... yes. But one glass never hits me too hard."

"One glass? I only had one... then I found the bottle was empty. You stole three glasses."

"Oh, no." She let out a groan. "But how did I get the bump?"

"I was going to pull you down but you tried to avoid me by jumping. The chair went thataway, you went up all right but the wardrobe is too narrow. You rammed your head straight into the wall. When I caught you, you were all but out."

"And then... ?"

"You want all the gory details? OK. We landed in a heap and, before I could get my breath, you were astride my chest. Your vocabulary had descended to just five words, 'Fuck me damn you!'"

After a short pause she said, in a very small voice, "That's only four words."

"You later changed it to 'Rape me damn you!'"

She seemed to have shrunk a little. Then, "Did you oblige?"

"Rape," I said, "is an act of degradation. It signifies contempt for the victim."

"Thank you for that," she said. "If you'll bend low enough, I'll kiss you."

"I think it's safe to untie you now," but to my astonishment she objected.

"No. No. Leave it please. It feels... somehow it feels... " She started again. "You seem to have done a good job with these knots. I don't think I can escape without your help. After what you tell me of last night... being tied... well tied... makes me feel kind of... safe."

"If that's what you want. How about a cup of coffee?"

"Sounds great. I wouldn't like to describe what my mouth feels like."

I set the cup down on the table beside her and then untied the rope that held her hands to the bottom of the bed-head frame. I retied it at the top with a little slack. Then I lifted her to a sitting position and stuffed pillows behind her. Her arms were now bent back over her head with her hands close to the back of her neck. She drank about half of the coffee and then breathed a sigh. "You seem to be experienced in this sort of thing?"

"My wife and I played bondage games for many years. But I haven't done it at all since she died."

"Until now," she said with a hint of mischief in her voice. "But, for interest's sake... if you keep a woman tied up like this... how does she pee?"

"Explanation or exposition?"

"Well, I'm not in all that much of a hurry so... make it a demonstration."

"I learned last night that you like to play with fire. Won't be a minute."

In houses this small, it doesn't take long to find anything. When I returned with a plastic carrier bag, I was not surprised to find her sitting exactly as I had left her. "Are you quite sure you want to do this?"

"As long as you are. Call it unhealthy curiousity."

I removed the pillows and pulled her back down. Then I untied one foot and used a pair of handcuffs to secure the feet together. She played with the feel for a few seconds but said nothing. I flipped her over on to her face, fitted the waist chain and locked the second pair of cuffs on to it . Then I untied each hand and slipped her wrists one after the other into the cuffs. Then I cleared all the rope and announced: "Now you can go to the toilet."

"I can't walk like this."

"All good prisoners can hop," I retorted.

"Don't I get any clothes?"

"You weren't so shy last night. Besides I've probably already seen more of you than you have yourself."

She gave me a strange look and began to colour. "Sha'n't be able to clean myself," she said.

"When you've done, " I said, "you go into the shower?"

"She had a sudden thought. "Where did you sleep last night?"

"I didn't. With you tied like that, I couldn't take the risk. My back teeth are awash with coffee."

"Hmmph. But I suppose that, for the shower to do me any good... you'll be in there with me?"

"For a helpless and captive woman... you ask too many questions. Now, do you want to use the loo or not? You can call a stop any time you like."

"To be honest," she confided: "I'm finding this curiously exciting. I suppose your wife had the same thoughts?"

"Very well," I said. I put a hand into my carrier and produced the ball gag. As I ran it under the tap she asked with, I thought, slight apprehension, "Is that what I think it is?"

"Depends really on what you're thinking," I said and pressed it against her lips. She would have stepped back but, with her feet close fettered, she merely fell against the wall. I pinched her nose and the deed was done. "The loo!"

Washed dried and powdered, she waited while I towelled off and then I packed her back to her bed and dumped her on her back. "Had enough," I enquired but she shook her head. I took out my last item - a pair of long chain cuffs, locked her feet to the end of the bed and then went off to prepare some breakfast.

With the meal prepared and laid out I went back for her. I removed the gag which had been in for quite long enough and asked, "You had enough or are you thinking of eating this the hard way?"

"Lacking experience, I can't answer the last bit," she answered with a grin that was made awkward by a certain stiffness in her jaw. "But I'm certainly enjoying this. I reckon you are too, you dirty old man. If you're not going to dress me, then you'll have to feed me."

I sat down on the bed beside her: "Who would have believed this of you?" I asked. "Of all people ... If your revelations of the last twelve hours are any measure of your character, I'd advise you to avoid all forms and quantities of alcohol."

"Your mere presence here, holding me captive and without cover, renders that remark graceless," she said smugly. "And while you're wagging that chin - I'm dying of starvation. Must have had a hard night."

"OK. If that's what you want. But remember - you only have to say the word and you'll be free immediately."

"What word would that be?"

"How about antidisestablishmentarianism?"

"Is that with the gag in... or out?"

From then on, life was never to be quite the same for either of us.