In a Bind | helpless, cuffs, gag | free bondage stories

I fell in love with that flat the moment I laid eyes on it - or in it as may be. It offered two large rooms and one smaller, a well appointed kitchen, combined bathroom and loo and a small but adequate balcony that overlooked the gardens in the square but without itself being overlooked. The rent was a trifle larger than I had hoped for but I did my sums with care and found that I could manage with a very slender margin.

Alas, my inexperience soon showed. I had forgotten - I knew not of - those recurring small items, the Sundries, that so rapidly turn a small safety margin into a steadily escalating deficit. Only two choices presented themselves; I could quit and find something cheaper - and that would mean very much less pleasant - or I could take a roomie, someone who would share the flat and contribute towards the rent and various expenses. The two big rooms would provide us each with our own private domain and we would share the lounge, kitchen and bathroom. The last two seemingly provided also a road to conflict but...?

During that week my stars must have been just right; my advertisement appeared on Tuesday morning and that afternoon I received a call to the telephone. A young lady was interested in sharing the flat and was keen to view it that evening after office hours. At six-forty-five exactly the doorbell trilled it summons and I opened on to a great surprise.

She was a terrific looking girl; although dressed in the traditional office manner she knew how to wear clothes. She showed them in the best possible light and, in return, they made her look like a million dollars. She observed me with blue eyes that twinkled and I was startled by the mass of natural-blonde hair that hung way down to her waist. And we got on together, right from that first doorbell, like the proverbial house on fire. She loved the room I was offering and insisted on drawing a cheque for her half of the month's rent even though the month was nearly a week gone.

As the weeks passed into months we became firm friends and lived together in that domicile with never a cross word. Louise never seemed to want the flat to herself when I was around, we shared not only the kitchen but frequently each of us included the other when preparing food. We occasionally shopped together, enjoyed the same tastes in music and theatre; it was truly unbelievable. We lived as the best of sisters might have done.

That fateful Saturday, I came home from a lone shopping trip, which had included lunching out, dumped my goodies on the kitchen table and went through into the lounge. Louise was sitting by the window puzzling over a garment of some sort. "Repairs," I queried, " or are you in the throes of creating?"

"Just a little something I picked up," she replied scratching behind her ear with the knitting needle she was using as some sort of probe. "But can't quite make it out."

Then she looked at me speculatively, as though with a sudden idea: "Could you be a dear and model it for me... just so I can sort it out?"

"Of course. But what on earth is it?"

"Well. Let's find out."

She held it up in both hands and it appeared to be some kind of tube. "This seems to be a sleeve. Can you just pop your arm in there...?"

I obliged with my right arm only to find that it was considerably too long. "Let's try... " Louise took hold of my left arm, pulled it back gently and fed it into the sleeve beside my right. I started to withdraw the first arm but she checked me: "Uh - huh. Keep still a moment."

She tugged on something: "I reckon these go up there." She slipped two straps forward over my shoulders and immediately I felt her doing something that seemed to be drawing my arms together. She worked quickly with nimble fingers and, as I now know, with experience. In but a few moments my arms were drawn together and my elbows seemed about to touch. "Louise! What on earth are you DOING?"

"No, no. Hold still a moment." I would have pulled away but those two straps that she had looped over my shoulders held the sleeve in place. Curious as to what all this was about I tried to peer over my shoulder; that little delay was my undoing. The thing tightened some more about my arms and then she pulled on the shoulder straps. As I began to realise there was more to this than met the eye she continued to pull on a seemingly endless set of straps that quickly held my arms glued to each other.

"Louise!" I was starting to get annoyed. This was no way to act between friends.

"Don't worry, love. Nothing nasty is going to happen. I've dreamed of getting you into one of these ever since you first opened that door to me. Obviously... you've never seen a single glove before... an arm binder?"

"It's not funny. Not funny at all. And now that you've had your fun... perhaps you wouldn't mind taking it off again. And next time... I'd appreciate you asking first."

"But sweettie... you would never have consented had you known its purpose. Would you? Come on, now... be honest. You wouldn't have let me have this... er... little bit of fun?"

"No. But now... take it off."

"Sure. Sure." She leaned over the armchair in which she had been sitting and I heard a slight metallic jingle. She knelt and, before I ever guessed her purpose, she had locked a pair of steel cuffs on to my ankles. I think I was more taken aback by the speed at which she worked than by what she was doing to me. I was winding up preparatory to exploding all over her when something came down in front of my face from behind; in those restraints I could never have resisted Louise's strength and she made short work of thrusting the ball into my mouth and strapping it very tightly behind my head.

She put an arm across my shoulders and pulled my head down on to her bosom: "There," she crooned, "I have you at last. For a whole weekend. You are mine now; I can - and I will - do what I like with you and there is nothing at all that you can do to stop me."

I struggled and lashed around but, with my feet held but three inches from each other, all I achieved was to overbalance and, but for Louise's arm, I would have fallen.

"Naughty, naughty," she said. "We must do something about this spirit of rebellion. It won't do you any good and I can't risk you hurting yourself. But it's perfectly understandable ... which is why I also brought these out." From nowhere she had produced another pair of handcuffs; she forced me to my knees and then locked my ankle cuffs to a ring that was fixed in the end of that wretched arm-binder. That left me with no option but to stay on my knees, completely helpless, and indeed completely dependent on my captor.

She left me there and went into the kitchen. For a few minutes I struggled against the restraints but was forced to admit that there was nothing whatever I could do. Louise was in charge; she had total control of the situation; I could not do anything or go anywhere except she both permitted it and helped in it.

It was that realisation, the acceptance of my captivity, that somehow dissipated my anger. I had some strange and very unfamiliar feelings. Although I was uncertain about what had happened I was not in any way afraid but the unexpected attack and my quick subjugation had a queer effect on me. What she was going to do next was a question uppermost in my mind; and why indeed had she left me kneeling there helpless, unable to as much as scratch my nose or wipe away the drool that was beginning to seep around this damned ball in my mouth. I tried to call to her but was surprised at how effective it was as a gag.

She was gone for some little time and then entered carrying a tray of coffee and biscuits. But I was surprised to see the garb into which she had changed. She wore black leather pants that looked as though she had donned them with a paintbrush. Above that was a black leather bustier that pushed her ample bosom up and out and made no pretence to modesty. The black costume contrasted strongly with that waterfall of blonde hair but she had repeated it with a wide black leather collar around her neck which also showed starkly against the milky white of her throat. Knee high black leather boots finished off the ensemble.

I would have asked her who she was supposed to be but was reminded of the gag in my mouth. And her appearance added piquancy to my predicament so that I felt a rising sense of mild panic, of fear - not of harm befalling me but an unknown unrecognised sense of things to come. She seemed to radiate a sense of power that in my position on the floor was very intimidating.

She lifted me bodily with a surprising show of strength and placed me beside the sofa. Next she sat herself down, poured some coffee and picked up the television remote control. My sense of perplexity increased but I could only kneel there and wait. Louise settled herself back with the coffee in one hand, turned the sound down to a low setting and then used the free hand to fondle me as though I were a pet dog sitting there begging her favour.

At first I grew annoyed again; then, as her fingers and soft palm travelled gently over my cheek and caressed the curve of my jaw, I began to feel anything but anger. She moved down to stroke my neck, back up along my throat and under my chin to circle around to my ear and then back down again to my neck. As she began to move away, I saw her look toward me with a strange smile on her lips and it came to me that I had my head on one side and was nuzzling her hand. I had to grant that she possessed some remarkable skills, that she had indeed tamed me like any pet dog or cat.

Even as I tried to pull away, an act denied me by the bondage, she rose and removed the gag: "I expect you'd like some coffee, too?"

As I worked my stiff jaw, in preparation for giving her a piece of my mind, I discovered that I was thirsty and in real need of that coffee. I changed it to a belated: "Yes, please." She used a napkin to wipe the mess from my face and held the cup for me to drink. Then: "We can overlook that little transgression for the time being; you could not have known the rules. You should only address me when given permission - and, of course, I did invite your reply - but, when speaking to me, you must always use the respectful 'Mistress'. Yes please, Mistress. Got it?"

While saying that she had been rubbing the ballgag in the napkin; now, as I wound up to express my re-awakened ire, she popped the horrid thing back behind my teeth and strapped it tightly once again. "There," she said brightly, "I've saved you from committing a further naughtiness. It's really too soon to start punishing you?"

Punishing? Who the hell...?

"I know." She interrupted my unspoken tirade with a gentle sympathising voice; "You're all confused, aren't you? I will explain." She lifted me to the cushion beside her and drew me down so that my head lay in her lap. "I have not just made you my prisoner. I have taken you as my slave. To be a slave you must have been taken? So now you have no say in the conduct of your life. You WILL do only what I permit, when I permit it, in whatever manner I prescribe. If you do not obey me then punishment must inevitably follow. I hope that is clear?"

Astonished. Stunned. How can I express my feelings as I lay there and looked up at her mutely accepting her caresses as those soft hands wandered all over my body. My completely helpless body. Helpless! How that word echoed through my mind and reverberated down my body. She had used the word slave and, in fact, it was the truth. My arms were held immobile behind me in the armbinder; my feet were joined by steel bands and doubled up to join my hands. In that I could do nothing whatever to help myself or to oppose her... I was indeed enslaved. And that thought was creating havoc in my mind.

And the way she was looking at me, the manner in which she handled me and spoke to me... I knew that she was well aware of what was spiralling around in my head. It came to me then that what she was doing to me was not an act of viciousness, not an attack on my person, that it had nothing to do with personal gain or robbery or violence; rather was it, in some queer way which yet deceived me... an act of love.

I was slowly sliding into a relationship that was entirely unknown to me; I was giving up to this confident and powerful woman who had taken me, not by force, but by guile. I was beginning to feel comfort in the knowledge that everything depended on her; that I had no responsibilities while she held me in this helpless captivity. I ceased to wonder what was next; sufficient unto the moment!

She rose and set me back on the floor: "Sorry, my dear, but I can't risk you falling off." Sometime later my nose told me that she was cooking and I began to feel hungry and expressed - to myself - the hope that I was to be allowed to share in it.

She returned with a plastic carrier bag that jangled as she set it down beside me. "It is about time that you had a loo break," she said, "after which we shall eat - but you must promise to behave yourself. Trouble will get you nowhere... nowhere at all, I can assure you... but it will mean that you go hungry and squat on the floor while you watch ME eat. OK?"

Did I have any choice? She removed the handcuffs that held me in the hogtie and it was a relief beyond description to stretch out my legs. But the cuffs on my ankles stayed and so did the armbinder. And speech continued to be denied. She carried me to the bathroom, unlocked one of my ankles while she removed my underwear with the remark: "You'll not be needing those for a while", re-shackled my feet and dumped me on the hole.

When she returned she cleaned me up and then carried me back to where she had set the table - for ONE! I was put back on the floor and pushed back into the kneeling position: "You will continue to kneel else the hogtie will be replaced." She was generous with my dinner but every scrap of it I had to accept from her fork, spoon or hand. Was there to be no end to my mortification? But what else is the lot of a slave? I found an inexplicable comfort in the thought that I was not responsible... for anything.

The evening was spent as we had spent the afternoon with me kneeling beside the sofa, but this time on a cushion, while she caressed her pet and watched television; there was a blessed relief however in that I was no longer in that hogtie and could relieve the pressure on my legs and knees by cautiously shifting my weight. If Louise noticed she gave no sign.

At nine o'clock she picked me up and carried me into her bedroom. There she at last removed that beastly armbinder but my arms were too stiff and numb for me to take any advantage. Swiftly she undressed me and then handcuffed my hands behind my back. I had never been in a shower with another woman before and, at first, I felt strangely embarrassed. But, as ever since my capture, she did everything and I could only stand there and enjoy the sensation of being... loved?

Then I was put into her bed and tucked under the duvet. "You can't be left alone in bondage - especially when gagged - and so you will have to sleep with me," she explained.

"When I join you," she continued, "I will remove your gag. But you are to understand that does not give you permission to speak. Just one word and you'll wear it all night. And, oh boy, will your jaw be stiff in the morning. Is that understood?"

I nodded. "You're sure?"

Again I nodded. "Good. Then digest it well while I finish up."

And so began my first night of captivity. It was to be a night in which I learned a great deal about myself and also about this beautiful woman who proved that she could assess the sum of that which made me.

I spent the whole of the next day, Sunday, in cuffs and chains and a collar with a chain leash attached. I spent the entire day totally nude. Indeed I was not a working slave - Louise took care of all the chores - I was purely a love slave ... just a toy ... whose only duties was to be there, as she dictated, for her pleasure; to do whatever I was told. To do nothing else and to remain silent. Helpless, I was indeed her pet, a pretty plaything, a work of art such as she might mount on her wall or file on a shelf of her bookcase.

She turned me loose early on Monday morning so that we could both prepare for work ... and I felt a deep disappointment that she made that gesture to the "proper" order of things. On my return that evening however I found a pair of handcuffs on the chair just inside the door and a cryptic note which said simply "Behind". I was at a loss to account for the delight it afforded me and then very disappointed to find that, with my hands locked behind my back, I was alone in the flat! At first I knew alarm; to be alone there and once again helpless in fetters without Louise to guard me? Suppose...?

During the next twenty minutes I traversed a whole range of scenarios from burglars to firemen so that, when at last I heard a key in the lock and beheld Louise enter I felt relief beyond measure. I ran to her but she held me off and uttered the one word of command: "Down."

I straightway sank to my knees. It had taken just the one weekend! I came to know though that the choice was entirely mine; had I refused those cuffs she would only have smiled and caressed my cheek. And the next time...? When I cuff myself so I give myself to Louise and she is in total command until Louise decides to release me. If the cuffs are not on that chair then Louise does not feel fit to look after me and then it becomes my turn to take care for her during those few special days.

But how had she known? That first time she had used force... of a sort... but since then it has always been for me to give. I once ventured to ask her that question. She had only smiled and patted me affectionately on the head. PAT-ted me! The PAT-ronising... biddy!

But please ... you won't tell her that I said that, will you?