Front Porch | rope, japanese, college | free bondage stories

Jenny was relaxing on her screened-in front porch, shaded by magnolia trees and lilac vines, when she noticed Eric Weatherford walking by. He was a new hire; she’d met him at the Poli Sci soiree. Something in the Japanese department. She waved. He hesitated, then turned up her walk, moving briskly despite the lingering afternoon heat, a shopping bag swinging in his hand.

"Care for some iced tea?" she drawled. She was from Colorado, but after 12 years in the Volunteer State, Southern mannerisms had permeated her brain.

"Don’t mind if I do. Sure is a hot day," he agreed amiably, catching the screen door so it didn’t bang. He eased into a white wicker chair that crackled under his big body. Eric wasn’t fat. He was just... large. Tall and muscular. Unusually so, compared to the other male faculty members at her college. She fetched him a glass of ice tea and returned to her rocker, smoothing her long flowered dress over her bare legs. (She abhorred panty hose, and wore them as seldom as possible, even in winter when they had some utility.)

"I was grading papers and had to take a break," Jenny announced.

"That bad?"

"I don’t know why students waste their money buying term papers. Their individual styles are so distinctive that it’s easy to tell when it’s not their own work."

He chuckled. "Some of my students use online translation services to do their homework. The results are ludicrous. Then they complain when I give them an F."

Translation. He was teaching Japanese translation during Mason Tuttle’s sabbatical. The story began to fall into place. He was an adjunct professor on a one-year contract. A nomad in the groves of academia, in other words. Perhaps not softened by safety and predictability like the other professors she knew.

"I heard you lived in Japan," she trilled, fluttering her eyelashes.

"In Kyushu. For five years. Once you’ve been through that, a Tennessee summer is nothing."

He launched into stories about his adventures in Japan. It was apparent he was trying to be charming. Good. Smiling and nodding on autopilot, Jenny weighed the pros and cons of seducing him. The intelligence was a plus. She liked smart men. But he was so big! She hated being crushed. And big men had more body odor. On the other hand, the one-year contract would make him easy to discard when she was through with him. He wouldn’t be mooning around in her front yard like that idiot poet. Not that Eric seemed like the mooning type. Even sitting still, his physicality was intriguing. The iced tea glass looked fragile in his big paw. It would be a shame to let some stupid student have him.

He finished his iced tea and picked up his shopping bag as if preparing to leave. Jenny thought fast. She wasn’t ready for grading papers yet. "Are you settling in OK? I see you found the Target," she said.

"Yes, it’s a splendid store," he smiled, and she felt like an idiot. "They have an excellent selection of rope."

He reached in his bag and produced a bundle of cotton sash cord. He offered it to Jenny, and she accepted it mechanically. She blushed. There was no way he could know about her fantasies. Absolutely no way. He must be teasing her. The thick tube of rope reminded her of the joke dildo Carmen received at her shower.

Eric was watching her intently; she tried to compose herself. "In the South, a gentleman caller usually offers a lady a bouquet of flowers," she drawled.

"Some ladies like flowers. Others like... different things." He tilted his head and arched his eyebrows knowingly.

Jenny still hadn’t made up her mind, but she was excited enough to take the game to another level. "Is this something you learned in Japan? I hear they’re quite sexist."

"I learned lots of things there," he shot back. "Would you like me to show you some?"

"Whatever," she said, shrugging to indicate she was doing this only because she was bored. "Let’s go inside."

She led him into the cavernous old house, which was ludicrously large for a single woman, but so charming she hadn’t been able to resist it. After the sunny porch, the interior was dim. She paused in the foyer while her eyes adapted, and in the course of stepping inside and past her Eric casually placed his hand on her lower back as if it belonged there. A gesture of possession. She liked the fact that he didn’t shilly-shally around.

"Very nice," he said, surveying the burnished wood floors, the ornate staircase, the stained glass window on the south wall.

"It was a mess when I moved in. Student housing. They’d wrecked the place. Like animals. So I got it for a song. But after I fixed it up..." She threw up her hands in triumph.

"You fulltime faculty people do very well. We poor adjuncts, on the other hand..." He shook his head and made a mournful face. "Fortunately it’s just for a year."

"And then what?"

"Freelancing, I suppose. Translating Japanese documents can be quite lucrative. If I put ‘College professor’ on my resume I bet I can charge even more."

"So you’re using us," she said, pretending to be shocked.

"No more than the college is using me," he said. "Cheap labor."

While he spoke, he had casually peeled the wrapper from the skein of rope and found the loose end and cut off several pieces with a Swiss Army knife. "Put your arms behind your back," he said, in the tone of a man accustomed to giving orders.

Jenny dutifully did as he said. He hadn’t told her to turn around, but that was the obvious next step, so she presented her back to him. He tied her wrists across each another in a X. He’s tying me up, she thought, heart pounding. Like men did to women in the stories she secretly read online.

Eric turned her to face him and draped a longer piece of rope around her neck. He led the ends down and knotted them between her breasts. His nimble fingers quickly constructed a kind of ropey bra that circled her chest, above and below her breasts, and additionally restrained her arms. Jenny stared off into space during this procedure, afraid to meet his eyes, lest he know what she was thinking.

"There!" he said, turning her to and fro to inspect his packaging.

Hidden behind her back, Jenny’s fingers felt for knots. None in reach. She was his prisoner.

"This is called shibari. It means binding or tying."

"What a surprise. I never would have guessed."

Eric put his hand on her lower back again and guided her into the living room. Then he pushed down on both shoulders and made her kneel on the rug. He, on the other hand, plopped down comfortably on the green couch, legs akimbo. "Let’s see what that mouth is good for," he said, unzipping his shorts.

Jenny dutifully inched closer on her knees and bowed to the little god. She licked the hood, which tasted a little musty, and took it into her mouth. Eric sighed and thew his head back. Peeking through her bangs, she used her tongue to good effect while watching his face. Some men were quite sensitive; she didn’t want him to come. She had plans for that hard cock, and those plans did not include a jet of semen in the eye.

Less than an hour had passed since she invited him onto the porch! As she pleasured him, she decided that it was nice to dispense with the dinner and movie and cut to the chase, as the department chair was fond of saying. A bound woman forced to satisfy a man. Atavistic, yes, but how many times had she imagined this?

The phone rang. The machine will get it, she thought. Three rings later, it did.

It was Celeste, her friend in Psych. "Jenny, are you there? Pick up?"

Sorry, I’m busy, Jenny thought, sucking on Eric’s penis like a big lollypop.

"I heard something amazing about that guy you were interested in. You know, Eric? Call me the instant you get in. And whatever you do, don’t be alone with him."

Click.

Jenny’s tongue halted.

Eric raised his head and peered at her crossly. "Don’t stop."

Jenny gave him a polite circular lick and pulled back. His penis popped from her face, glistening with her spit. "I’m such an idiot," she said. "I just remembered I have to do something this afternoon."

"You certainly do," he said, cupping his hairy scrotum in his hand.

"No, really." She rocked back on her knees. "I’m sorry. We can do this another time. I promise."

Eric sighed and glared at the answering machine, whose red light blinked reprovingly. "I suppose your pal heard the story about me."

"What story?"

"That I cut up my Japanese girlfriend? And threw the pieces in Tokyo Bay?"

"No, I hadn’t. My god. That’s awful."

He fixed her with a piercing stare. "Just to set the record straight. I did have a Japanese girlfriend. She did disappear, and I was questioned by the police. But I think she ran off with her yoga teacher. I did not cut her up and throw the pieces into Tokyo Bay. Okay?"

"Sure. I believe you."

modelbondage presents more Jasmine Sinclair in bondage:
Jasmine Sinclair tied	jeans crotchrope bondage	Jasmine Sinclair hog-tied	Jasmine Sinclair strappado bondage

"For one thing, I lived in Kyushu, not Tokyo." He laughed shrilly.

Jenny politely laughed too. Inside, she was calculating if she could rise to her feet and make it to the door. Unlikely. Even if she did, she’d have to stop and turn her back to get her hand into position to open the damn door, and he’d catch her.

Trapped! Usually in her seductions, she had the upper hand, but this one was way off the charts.

Eric misunderstood her mood. "If you want to take a break, that’s OK. I can retie you in a more comfortable position." He picked up the rope and began to measure out some pieces.

"Thanks," she said, looking forward to a chance to bolt.

But Eric was too cagey for that.

She’d thought his arm tie was thorough, but twenty minutes later Jenny was tied up so intensely she could barely move, much less escape.

She was now lying face down on the living room rug, its pattern imprinting itself on her breasts.

Arms bound behind her back and secured to her chest.

Legs tied together by rope above the knees and at the ankles.

Hogtied by a rope from shoulders to ankles.

Mouth packed with a dishtowel until her cheeks bulged. The wadding held in place by many strips of duct tape.

Completely nude, since Eric felt the summer dress and panties interfered with the artistic effect he was trying to achieve. "Rope on skin," he’d repeated like a mantra while he was tying her. "Rope on skin."

Lying on the rug, she moaned pitifully and rocked from side to side.

Seated on the couch, her captor eyed her happily.

"Jenny, you have the makings of a great submissive. I could tell the moment I met you. I’m just the master you need to bring it out."

Since she couldn’t speak, she rolled her eyes skeptically and snorted through her nose.

"As soon as it gets dark, I’m going to bring my van around and take you to my place."

She shook her head. No, no.

"Don’t worry, no one will spot you. After a few days in bondage and a lot of gourmet sex, I predict you’ll feel quite differently than you do now. If you don’t, I’m in big trouble. If you do, we have a fun year. It’s a gamble I’m willing to take. What do you say to that?"

Jenny let her head flop down and lay with her cheek on the rug. The amount of dust under the couch was annoying; the cleaning woman had just been there. She’d have to speak to her.

"What do you say?"

She blinked, trying to focus on the man who had captured her. She was so horny that she was probably leaving a wet spot on the rug. It was cruel to make her wait until nightfall. She moaned plaintively and wiggled her bare bottom, hoping to entice him to untie her legs and fuck her immediately.