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The Visitor
by Anne Woolsey
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© Copyright 2011 - Anne Woolsey - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbf; rope; zipties; gag; mast; outdoors; caught; F/f; bond; hogtie; oral; toys; climax; cons/reluct; X
jpn
The Visitor Anne Woolsey Sbf; rope; zipties; gag; mast; outdoors; caught; F/f; bond; hogtie; oral; toys; climax; cons/reluct; X
 

Chapter One

Part One

Anne decided she had to flee the City. She needed time to unwind. Her personal life was in turmoil and a little benign neglect of priorities, personalities and responsibilities was necessary. She had never learned to deal with personal issues in an organized manner that released the pressure a little at a time. At work where she was charged with planning and completing complicated projects with a myriad of details she was on top of everything to the point of obsession, but personal stuff almost always reached critical mass before she dealt with it.

Her relationship with Dorothy was in shambles. She didn’t know if she should hook up with Wendy and there were few other options since she tended to keep to herself. Even her cat was pissed off, more so now that she was languishing in the kitty motel so that Anne could recreate. Yes, it was time for a break.

She chose Maine for getaway spot. A family friend owned a cottage on the beach in southern Maine and had previously offered to rent it to Anne. She asked and found she could rent it at off-season rates for the two weeks prior to the start of the real rental season, which started the last week in June. That was perfect for her work schedule and on the Friday of the first full weekend in June she loaded the Porsche and headed out.

It was really not that far in distance from where she lived, but it was a universe away in terms of the life style and surroundings. She left the Turnpike and wound her way through the main and side roads searching for the road that led to the beach. She had been there before and had a vague recollection of the place to turn. She found it and made her way along the narrow lane to the end. The temperature was at least ten degrees lower near the beach than it was up on the main road and the on shore breeze carried the briny air and the roar of the surf. It was so refreshing!

The cottage was simple, a shingled two-story three-season house with a wrap around porch. She found the key on the nail under the porch railing and let herself in. It was as rustic on the inside as out. The downstairs was sort of finished with pine siding on the walls and an eclectic grouping of hand-me-down furniture in the large living room. There was no TV or phone, just an old-fashioned radio for a connection to the outside world. The kitchen was outfitted with ‘50s appliances and there was a tiny bath with shower. The upstairs where the bedrooms were was even more rustic with open studded walls and no ceiling. As promised, the gas and water had been turned on. Roughing it was one thing, but no hot water was something else entirely

She unloaded the car and trucked it all upstairs. She picked the bedroom that faced the ocean and threw up the window sash. The cool wind flooded the room, moving the mustiness out ahead of it. Anne could feel the dampness of the sea in the breeze. She put the clothes away in the dresser and the closet. She had brought a minimal amount of clothes with her. Just the basic essentials of t-shirts, jeans, shorts, sweats, underwear and socks. She had her running stuff and was happily anticipating solitary runs along the beach.

Anne opened all the windows upstairs to allow the rooms to air and did the same downstairs. On the way in, she had stopped at the supermarket on the main road and bought just some essential groceries. She was planning to eat out more than cook, taking advantage of the dozens of take-out seafood places in the area, so there was not much to put away.

Once she had settled in, she headed for the beach. It was a sunny warm day off the beach. On the beach it was still sunny but the sea breeze cooled everything off to a comfortable 70ish temperature. She slipped off her sneakers and walked in the surf. The water was surprising warm for this time of year. Usually your ankles would turn blue minutes after entering the water, but this was almost comfortable. She walked north along the beach. The cottage abutted an estuarine research center that owned hundreds of acres of uplands and the beach in front of the property. The beach stretched for almost a mile with no houses ending at a river outlet that severed the beach where it met the sea. To the south from the house there was another mile of beachfront, but cottages and homes of all sizes and prices bordered this stretch of the shore. At the end of this beach another small stream emptied into the ocean between two long stone jetties. Behind the beach was a small harbor bordered by a Town beach. All in all, it was a very nice place to get away to; particularly off-season, and Anne could feel her spirits begin to lift.

She returned to the cottage and ate a light supper of crackers and cheese washed down with some wine. She was probably the only person to ever lose weight on vacation. For some reason, mainly because she avoided sit-down meals in restaurants in favor of lobster roll/chowder takeout, she generally returned to real life in better shape than when she left.

Anne had brought more books than clothing and picked up one of them. She settled into a comfortable chair with her wine glass nearby and began to read. It was mid-June and the days were at their longest. Even at 9:00 o’clock the sky held lingering light from the day. It wasn’t long before the sound of the surf and the lovely sea sir caused Anne’s head to bob as she nodded off. Finally, the book fell to the floor and she was ready for sleep. She made her way upstairs, tugged off her clothes and fell on the bed. She snuggled into her sleeping bag and was soon fast asleep.

The next two days were copies of the first day. Anne ran on the beach, body surfed in the still warm water and ate sparingly. She took long walks in the reserve and on the beach. The days passed quickly and she ended them with a book and some wine.

On Monday, the weather changed and a coastal storm blew in. The surf picked up and the wind-driven rain pelted the cottage. It was cool and Anne had to wear jeans and a sweatshirt to be comfortable. There was a wall heater in the cottage, but she didn’t turn it on.

There was one aspect of Anne’s persona she kept very closely guarded; only her closest friend and her lovers knew of her near obsession with all things having to do with bondage. She kept it under wraps to avoid any embarrassment that would impact her high profile job and because she felt it was no one’s business anyway. All of her recent relationships had included her being tied up by her mate. She loved having sex while tied, but she was ‘between relationships’ right now and missed indulging in her obsession.

She had read all about self-bondage on the ‘net and had a theoretical knowledge of it, but had never tried it. So one of the things Anne wanted to try while she was here was self-bondage. She had packed a bag with lots of rope and gags and such and she was determined to try and master it. She wanted to get good enough at it so that she could immobilize herself when the mood struck without having to rely on others and deal with the baggage that sometimes came with it. Why not learn to do it herself? In no way was she giving up letting others tie her. She loved the interaction between binder and bindee and when it was going right it was very, very good! But a little self-reliance was not a bad thing!

She had read all the horror stories of people injuring or killing themselves doing self bondage and she was obviously concerned and wanted to avoid risky behavior that might be dangerous. At home as she did her research, on the drive up here and on her walks on the beach, she was working out the details of how to do it safely and this rainy day was the perfect time to get started. She didn’t want to have anything to do with handcuffs. They were too unforgiving. If she couldn’t get out of those she’d be in big trouble. She’d always preferred rope anyway, so rope it would be!

She wanted to use cable ties as well, both as a means to tie her legs and as a cinch for her roped wrists. She had read that they were very secure, if a little bit difficult to remove. She felt that a little practice would take care of that and had brought several packages of ties of various lengths, including 24 and 36-inch ties to practice with and to ultimately use to tie herself.

She decided to start with using ties as a cinch with her hands tied in front. That seemed more manageable and she could get out more easily if something went wrong with her methods. She wrapped her wrists with rope and maneuvered the tie in place. It was difficult to work the tie at first but she persevered and figured how to do it. She pulled the tie tight with her teeth at first and was pleased to see that it made for a secure tie. Of course, tying her hands behind her back, which was her ultimate goal, eliminated the pulling with teeth method so she worked at pulling the end with her fingers. It was a little more difficult, but doable. More importantly, she worked on ways to untie her wrists. She didn’t want to use a knife for obvious reasons. She had read that scissors worked well, so she bought several pairs of different sizes. She found that a short stubby type worked best, at least with her hands in the front. She also tried a large toenail clipper that worked fairly well. She had to nip at the tie several times, but eventually it let go.

After several tries with her hands in front, she graduated to hands behind her back. She was nervous at first and found it was a hell of a lot more difficult. When she finally managed to get the tie in place and pull it she purposely left it loose the first few times. She finally got the nerve to pull it tight and found that the resulting tie was as good as if someone else had tied it with rope. She had a moment of panic, as she couldn’t quite get the scissors to work at first. Again she worked at it and discovered the way she had to come at it to cut it. She tied her wrists several more times and felt herself grow excited at the possibility of binding herself in a way that she could not get out of easily.

She always liked to be tied with a lot of rope. Tying her legs would be no problem. She practiced with a harness around her breasts and worked out several ways to do that. The last barrier to total bondage was tying her elbows. She was very flexible and could touch her elbows behind her back without any rope involved. She absolutely loved the look and feel of being tied with them together. How to do it to herself was the obvious problem. She finally worked out a way to loop a rope around her elbows several times and then flip the rope up between her elbows and over her shoulder. She could then tie it off around her waist and her elbows were secure. It wasn’t like a true cinch with the rope run through her armpits and behind her neck as she liked it, but it worked.

She took the next step and did her elbows and wrists at the same time. She was nervous and excited as she worked the ropes and ties. She got it all done and studied her image in the faded mirror in her room. She liked what she saw and it also felt very secure which was more important to her. It was fairly late when she stopped practicing. She was sexually aroused as she always was when bondage was involved. The rain had let up a bit, but according to the forecast she heard on the radio it was a two-day storm. That meant that tomorrow would be a stay-in day and she knew now exactly how she would spend it. She fantasized herself to sleep with the help of one of the vibrators she had brought along.

She was up early the next day. The storm was still on, but had let up. She was full of nervous energy and decided that a run would be good. She ran to the public beach and back, just reaching the cottage as the rain began to fall heavily again. A quick shower and a bit of food and she was ready to do her first full-scale self-bondage attempt.

She decided to wear her one-piece bathing suit. Somehow, doing this nude didn’t feel right! The suit was cut high on her hips and was strapless and she looked good in it, not that anyone (she hoped) would see her in it today! She slipped into it and felt chilly, but knew she would soon be struggling and sweating. She sat on the bed and began with her ankles, tying and cinching them followed by ropes applied above and below her knees. She arranged a harness around her chest above and below her breasts, connecting the two horizontal ropes with a vertical tie between her breasts. So far so good! She hesitated for a moment and then looped a rope around her waist and pulled it between her legs. She stood and tightened it and adjusted the rope so that it would be in the right spot to provide some stimulation. She was very nervous now as, still standing, she worked the rope around her elbows and pulled it tight. She was almost done when she realized that she hadn’t gagged herself. She undid her elbows swearing out loud as she did so. She had to hop over to the closet and retrieve the bag. She really liked packing in her mouth, but she wasn’t going to risk choking on it. She chose the whiffle ball gag that had openings so that she could breathe more easily and wedged it into her mouth. She pulled the strap through the buckle and secured it in the last hole.

The gag was done and now she returned to her elbows. She was finding that each time she tied her elbows it went faster and seemed tighter.

She was at the point of no return now. She picked up the wrist rope and wrapped it several times around both wrists. She made a half-hitch knot around one wrist to tie off the rope. When she first started, she experimented with flipping the rope up and between her wrists a couple of times like a cinch, but she felt that was too easy to get untied. She didn’t want to use the cable tie in that situation because the rope loops might interfere with the cable tie and make release difficult or impossible, so she decided that the cable tie was the way to go. She bent and picked up a cable tie off the bed and maneuvered it between her wrists. She stopped for a moment to gather herself and maybe to decide if she should do this at all. She caught a look at her gagged armless image in the mirror and the decision was made. She slid the end of the tie into the clamp end and pulled. It took several pulls, but finally it was snugged down enough to convincingly tighten the wrist wraps.

She was tied up!

She had placed several pair of scissors in strategic locations around the room and she glanced around to make sure they were still there. Gradually, it dawned on her that she was in an isolated house, alone, with no realistic possibility of any help in getting out of her bonds.

The rain pounded on the roof and the wind rattled the shutters. In the dimly lit room, Anne was entering a world of her own, a world in which she was being held against her will and in which she was in danger. The thought thrilled and scared her and she moaned and pulled on her bonds. They were unyielding which made her pull harder. Soon she was thrashing around on the bed and moaning trying to force herself out of the ropes. She screamed for help and begged for someone to come and struggled harder and harder. Her exertions carried her to the edge of the bed and she tumbled hard to the floor. The fall surprised her and scared her and the helpless feeling of falling and the shock of it helped cause the first orgasm.

She was out of control now, rolling around and screaming nonsense through the gag. The ropes held although she tried everything she could to get free. She was soaked with sweat and smudged and dirty from squirming around the floor. She was panting and finally stopped writhing to rest. She rocked herself into a sitting position and leaned back against the wall, sucking oxygen through her nose and the gag, her chest rising and falling violently. She collected her wits and came back to reality a bit. She panicked for a moment when she couldn’t see her scissors, but caught sight of them just under the bed, apparently knocked there by her exertions. She felt better knowing where they were. She sat there for several minutes savoring the tightness of her bonds and feeling just a little smug about being able to pull it off so successfully. She was nagged only slightly by doubts about being able to get out and she suppressed those so as not to spoil the moment.

The clock on the dresser indicated that she had been at this for about an hour. She was filled with a desire to never be untied. Those thoughts got her to testing her bonds again and within minutes she was fighting her bonds with an intensity she had never brought to bear before. She moaned and grunted into the gag and thumped around on the old wooden floor until a second orgasm rippled through her and she collapsed in a sweaty heap still tightly tied. Now she was near exhaustion from her exertions and from the toll of the orgasms. She dragged herself over to the scissors and with a feeling of dread maneuvered them to cut the tie. To her surprise and joy, she snapped the plastic on the first try and she began the slow process of untying herself. She was sore and tired when she finally removed the last piece of rope. She rose to her knees and used the bed for support to rise. The image in the old mirror was of a tired disheveled captive finally freed. Her hair was matted and her swimsuit was dirty and displaced. Rope marks were visible everywhere. The gag strap had cut into her cheeks leaving a double line on both cheeks that she hoped would fade and quickly!

Anne was as happy as she had ever been in a bondage situation. She had put herself into almost-inescapable bondage and achieved sexual satisfaction and had then managed to get herself out of it without a problem. The possibilities for this new talent seemed endless. Anne smiled at her image, ran her fingers through her hair to straighten it, slipped out of the suit and went to the shower, happy and fulfilled and already planning her next adventure.

The next day was sparkling clear and warm as only New England can be after a storm. The afterglow of her self-bondage adventure clung to Anne and she floated through the day, relaxed and happy. She was a little sore and had pulled a muscle in her back, but the rope marks had faded and she was ready to try it again.

After supper, she decided to take a walk on the beach. She thought it would be fun to try it with her hands tied, so she waited until dusk when the light began to fade. She knew that not many people were here in the other houses and that the reserve was closed. The possibility of being seen was remote, but the slim possibility made it all the more attractive to Anne. The evening was going to be cool, so Anne wore her jeans, rolling up the cuffs, her flip-flops and a sweatshirt. She would have preferred some way to be able to hide her hands in case someone came along, but couldn’t think of a plausible method.

She was going to do it anyway! She put on her ball cap and pulled it low over her eyes. Then she tied and cinched her wrists behind. She let herself out onto the porch and stood for a while to see if anyone was nearby. Hearing and seeing no one, she stepped off the porch, her heart pounding. She walked the short path to the beach and set out to the north, constantly looking for movement or shapes that could be people. She hadn’t brought anything along to cut her self out so once she got going she was into it no matter what! At first she hurried along, not enjoying the novelty of walking in public while bound. Her senses were attuned to flight and she was jumpy. But, finally, after ten minutes or so of walking Anne slowed her pace and began to enjoy herself. She still was vigilant and watched for people, but the reality of walking bound began to sink in. As it got darker she got bolder and reversed her direction. Soon she was passing in front of the houses south of her cottage. Not many had lights on which helped to give her confidence. She walked in the surf, the cuffs of her jeans wet from the waves.

Suddenly a dog barked and Anne spun around to see an approaching person leading a dog on a leash. There was no place to run or hide so Anne turned her back to the sea and watched nervously as the person approached. She stood in the surf with her legs spread and, of course, her hands behind her, in what she hoped was a casual, non-suspicious manner. She was also trying to pull her hands free, but the binding was too tight. The approaching person turned out to be an elderly woman who had a dachshund on a leash. The woman spoke to Anne, greeting her. The woman stated that Anne must be the person staying in the McDonough cottage and Anne acknowledged that it was true. 'Oh god', Anne thought, 'I hope she doesn’t want to shake hands!' A few more comments passed between them and the woman continued down the beach without realizing that Anne had her hands bound behind her. Anne stood in place until her nerves calmed and then headed quickly for the cottage, enervated by the near exposure of her bondage. She made it back unobserved and cut the wrist tie. She needed a beer to calm herself and gulped it down. She had to admit it was exciting to be out like that and she sat down to think of ways she could do something similar again.

Anne spent parts of the next few days ‘practicing’ varying the way she was tied and the length of time she stayed tied. She liked it, but realized that she was limited in what she could do. For instance, she couldn’t very well spread eagle herself on the bed, which she loved. She couldn’t conjure up a way to do it and still be able to get out.

One evening after a marathon session of bondage and riding a wave of bondage lust and arousal, Anne drove to the market and several other places with the marks of the ropes clearly visible on her legs and arms. She boldly strutted through the store and to a restaurant for some take-out chowder, without a worry. She was disappointed when no one except the take-out waitress seemed to notice and even she said nothing.

Anne was pretty confident in her abilities to tie herself by the time her first week at the cottage was drawing to a close. She had spent parts of the past several days and nights tightly tied by her own hand. She was looking for a little more of a challenge and decided to try a hogtie using just the cable ties. It should be simple to do and easy to get out. Anne loved hogties and was confident that she could produce a credible one.

She decided she would be nude for this one. The thought of the feel of the rough spread on her breasts and thighs as she struggled on it fueled her excitement. She gagged herself with the wiffle ball gag and cabled her ankles together in a crossed-ankle tie. She snipped off most of the protruding end of that tie. Then she attached a shorter tie to each of her wrists leaving them slightly loose. She turned herself over onto her stomach. She hesitated for a few seconds and then plunged ahead with a blindfold. Before she strapped it in place she located all the ties and, more importantly, the tools and placed them where she could get at them. She did not want to be over-confident about her abilities to escape and she made sure her entire arsenal of scissors and clippers were with her on the bed. She would have to cool it with the struggling so that she didn’t knock them on the floor!

Now moving quickly, she worked the end of a long cable tie under each of her wrist ties and through her ankle tie. It took a few tries and some cursing, but she finally managed to thread the end through the clamp. She took a deep breath and pulled on the tie drawing her wrists toward her ankles. It was awkward to do, but she managed to remove most of the slack in the tie. She was finally hogtied and fairly convincingly so. She knew she would have to move fairly carefully and contort herself to maneuver her body so that she could pick up one of the tools and that anxiety acted as a fuel for the “I am tied and I can’t get out” feeling she was looking for. She moved sensuously against the rough fabric, moaning slightly and sliding into a state of sexual arousal.

She lost track of time as she was swept into her fantasy of being bound and held against her will. The sound of a car jerked her back to reality. It sounded as if it were right outside the cottage! Damn it! Did she lock the door?

She waited quietly, poised to grab for her cutters. She heard the door open downstairs. What the hell? A few of her friends knew she was here. She waited for someone to call out a hello or her name but heard nothing. Who could that be? Whoever it was shouldn’t be here. No one was coming in to rent the house for another week!

She scrambled to find one of the scissors and in her panic knocked them off the bed onto the floor making a loud clank on the wooden floor. She swore and scrambled to find her backup equipment, groping around on the spread as she teetered on her side. She was finding it difficult to get into a position where she could cut the cable and her scissors were nowhere near her groping hands. She froze as she heard a creak that sounded very much like the tread on the stairs. Her apprehension spiked and she fought to maintain her position braced up off the bed and on her side. She lost the battle and flipped over onto her back. She was afraid to move and held her breath in the hope that she was just hearing things. That hope evaporated when the door to the bedroom swung open on its creaking hinges. She felt the person’s footsteps as he/she approached the bed and she began to call for help and struggle, figuring that she could say it was a burglar of a prank or something that put her into this situation. Her visitor said nothing and Anne was near panic and moaned involuntarily out of fear for her safety. Still nothing from her visitor! She felt the mattress sag as the visitor sat on the bed. Anne tried to speak and to get a reaction, but the person was silent as if she (she hoped it was she) was studying what lay next to her. Anne was in a horrible situation that was, at least, humiliating for her and quite possibly dangerous. She lost control of her resolve and began to sob.

A hand touched her thigh and lingered there. Anne jerked at the touch and tried to move away, shivering in fear. The hand stayed put.

“Ya did this to yaself, didn’t ya?” Anne relaxed a bit. At least it was a woman’s voice with a local twang, one that was vaguely familiar to her. She struggled to put a name with the voice, but couldn’t.

“Pretty good job, sweetie!” Sweetie! Sweetie! Who had called her Sweetie?

“Ya know, I saw the rope marks on ya the otha day, Wensday, I think it was? Naturally I was intrigued, bein’ that I kinda got a thing for tyin’ gals up?” Anne was frantically trying to remember who this person was. She cursed silently at her foolishness in going out with the marks from the ropes still visible. Where had she gone? The store on the main road, the gas station, the take-out place! Wait a minute! The woman working behind the counter in the restaurant had noticed the marks, she was sure! Anne remembered a pretty girl in her early 20s with blonde hair feathered with red. She was tall and thin and dressed kind of goth-ish and had a little tattoo on her shoulder of a…oh my God…of a coil of rope. She remembered seeing it and thinking it was unusual. She had wanted to ask about it, but there were too many people behind in line. It must be her!

“You were in the Lobsta Den and I waited on ya!” It was her!

A clatter of metal on the floor indicated that her visitor had found the scissors and stuff and had removed them from Anne’s reach. ‘Ya won’t be needin’ them, Sweetie!”

Anne protested loudly and vainly through her gag as she was flipped back onto her stomach. The woman pulled on the cable tie connecting her wrists and ankles, zipping Anne into a tighter hogtie. Anne angrily screamed louder, threatening violence, as the girl slipped a cable tie around Anne’s elbows and snugged them together. Anne was astonished at the places the girl continued to attach cable ties. Soon Anne’s thumbs and fingers were tightly bound together with ties. A cable tie under the strap of her blindfold was connected to her ankles and held her head back and off the bed. When the girl was done, Anne was pretzeled into an immobile package without any chance of escape. She heard the woman rummaging through her toy bag. She climbed onto the bed and undid the strap of the waffle ball gag. As quickly as she popped it out, she had jammed the huge sponge ball gag in its place. Anne had no chance to even utter a word!

“My name’s Maegan, by the way! Ah’m off all this weekend! I think you and I are gonna have a wickid good time!”

Part 2

Maegan was true to her word. They did have a “wickid good time” that involved a lot of intense sex.

Well, it wasn’t actually a smooth transition from being kidnapped into a warm loving relationship! Anne fought and swore and struggled to get free. She wanted to kick this impertinent little twit’s ass, but the little twit knew bondage and Anne was not getting free without help.

Maegan helped the transition by deftly applying Anne’s Accu-vibe to Anne’s pubic area. She proved to be quite adept at using this instrument and her tongue to induce pleasure while teasing and withholding orgasm. Anne, still bound, gagged and blindfolded two hours after Maegan arrived, was reduced to begging and whining via gag-garbled pleas for release. When she finally was brought to orgasm, Anne wailed her way through the main and a secondary event before slumping, exhausted, in her bonds.

Maegan quickly cut all the cable ties and helped Anne to sit up. She fetched a robe from the closet and wrapped Anne in it. Anne for her part was slow to recover from the extended bondage and teasing and allowed Maegan to do these things for her, when under other circumstances she would be tearing Maegan a new one. Anne finally recovered some strength and spunk and focused on Maegan, who was sprawled in the one chair in the room, leg over the arm, smoking a dark, disgustingly smelly cigarette. Anne noticed that Maegan was panty-less and that observation caused a stirring in her gut, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from confronting the little shit!

Anne was getting her first good look at her tormentor. She was indeed the waitress at the take-out place. She looked different than the other night. Now she was decked out all in black including a short mini, cropped long sleeve jersey, fishnet thigh highs and Converse high tops. She wore a collar of wide black leather and chrome studs and black heavy rimmed glasses. She had acquired or more likely filled a number of piercings, including several in each ear and a diamond stud in her right nostril, that weren’t evident the other evening. Her hair had received a fresh wash of pink feathering at the tips and hung loosely in a mesh page boy cut around her angular face. Dark lipstick and heavy eye shadow completed the picture. She was a pretty girl underneath the makeup and probably younger that Anne had thought previously. Anne put her age at maybe 19. She looked like any number of the kids that hung out in the coffee shops near Anne’s apartment in the city.

“Please put out the cigarette. It’s disgusting!”

Maegan sat up in her chair and leaned forward. “Are you gonna make me?”

Anne arranged a cold smile on her face. “If I have to, I will!”

Maegan took a long drag on the smoke and blew a huge cloud of noxious fumes out into the room, but then rubbed the butt out on the sole of her sneaker. She dropped the butt onto a glass tray on the dresser. For a moment she looked even younger that her age and said, “I… I don’t really like ‘em anyway! Taste like shit!”

Anne was getting warmed up now and demanded of Maegan an explanation of why she was here and what she thought she was doing. She ended with a question. “Why shouldn’t I call the police and have them charge you with breaking and entering and kidnapping, sexual assault and a bunch of other things for what you’ve done here tonight?”

Maegan smiled a really nice smile that lit up her face. “Because ya liked it, sweetie! Or was that somebody else screamin’ and humpin’ on the bed a few minutes ago?”

Anne blushed a deep scarlet at the obvious truth of that statement. She wouldn’t be sitting here talking with this girl if she was really angry. She would have already called the police.

“Wh…who are you anyway?”

“I told ya! I’m Maegan. Maegan Crowley. I live in Francisport down east a here and work at the Lobsta Den.”

“No! No, I mean who are you really? I don’t know what I am saying! Look! You break in here and tie me up and… and masturbate me and… I just don’t get it! How did you find me here?”

“Well, this is a real small town, specially off season. Most everybody knows everybody else’s business. Ah just asked around about the lady in the fancy cah and they said you were stayin’ at the McDonough place. I saw the rope marks the other night and knew ya were into some kinky shit so I came ovah to check it out. Pretty simple, really! I mean I just wanted talk to ya, but I got a vibe that you were maybe into sumthin so I just came on up.”

“Simple! I don’t know about that! Don’t you think it was pretty presumptuous of you to figure I was alone here and to barge in here and and then do this to me? I mean is this how you behave with every stranger you see in this damn town?”

“Sweetie? I saw it in ya eyes in the stoah! You are a stone sub! You love it! I, just love to dominate submissive gals like you! It don’t happen often, but it surely happened between us!”

Maegan stood as she talked and walked to the bed and sat next to Anne. Anne sat unmoving staring intently into Maegan’s eyes. Maegan softly touched Anne’s cheek and gently kissed Anne on the lips, her tongue flicking lightly over Anne’s lips. Anne was a sucker for that type of kiss and began to reciprocate. The two women continued to softly explore each other’s mouths, their tongues darting and flicking. Maegan’s hands were in constant motion touching Anne’s hair and her neck, brushing her breasts and shoulders. Everything Maegan did was unhurried and gentle and soft and Anne responded in kind. Their kissing increased in fervor as the sexual tension caused by the gentle probing and touching increased. Anne ached to embrace this strange girl, but was mesmerized by her gentle approach. She was, in the rational part of her brain, entirely sure she shouldn’t be doing this. But that part of her brain was seriously losing ground to the part that craved Maegan’s touch.

Both women were now on the bed kneeling and facing each other, leaning forward and kissing and caressing. Anne’s robe had fallen from her shoulders and was pooled around her on the bed. Maegan remained fully clothed. They still hadn’t embraced as if full contact touching would break the spell.

Finally, in the throes of a passionate kiss, Anne reached for and embraced Maegan and fell back on the bed with her. From there, in a flurry of discarded and displaced clothes, they made love, bringing each other to climax quickly at first and then more languorously. Afterwards they lay quietly side-by side, not touching, in a kind of strange place. They were really total strangers. Anne wasn’t into quickies or one-night stands. She was disturbed by the evening’s events and her response to them.

They both started to talk at once. Anne held up her hand and said, “Wait! Me first!”

She sat up and arranged herself in a lotus position. Maegan was curled up on the bed with her head resting on her hand. She wore only her stockings and Anne was distracted by how delicious she looked.

‘OK! You’re Maegan Crowley. You live in the next town and like to tie up women, right? So you found out who I was and where I was staying and tied me up, right? And then we slept together, right? So now, what do we do? Is this it? Are you going to disappear and move on to the next flatlander who comes to town?”

Maegan pondered that and then smiled. “You oldah folks are so hung up on the big pitchah. Didn’t ya just enjoy yourself with me?” Anne nodded. “Well, what else is there? Why does it hafta mean somethin’ or lead to somethin’?”

“Well, I…I just don’t do this! You’re a complete stranger! You’re about half my age, for cripes sakes! I just don’t get it!”

“Man, for an oldah broad you are so dense! There is nothin’ to get, sweetie! We are heah now and we are togethah and that’s it! Relax and go with it. And besides, I’m oldah than I look!”

“Yeah, right! What are you 20?”

Maegan stretched and rose from the bed. She bent and snatched a coil of rope from Anne’s toy bag ,which rested on the floor. “I’m 23 and ya want relevance, sweetie? How about this?” She lunged at Anne toppling her over. Anne shrieked in surprise and struggled to regain her upright position. Maegan was on her quickly and in seconds had bound Anne’s wrists in front of her. Maegan pulled the protesting Anne’s arms over her head and tied her hands to the headboard. Then she began to tie Anne’s legs to the bedposts. Anne thought she was fit and relatively strong, but she found she was no match for this skinny little gal. And Maegan seemed to have well-developed rope skills as she deftly tied Anne’s flailing legs to the posts. She slipped a pillow under Anne’s head and straddled Anne with her head buried in Anne’s crotch. She began a slow exploration of Anne’s sex with her tongue while wiggling her own sex in Anne’s face. Anne had to squirm around to gain the proper perspective and probably would have a sore neck for it, but she responded in kind and both women lost themselves in each other, yet again.

After a particularly intense mutual orgasm, Maegan crawled off Anne and lay beside her, again leaning her head on her hand.

Anne looked over at this strange girl. “Are you going to untie me?”

“Do ya want me too?”

“Well… eventually, yeah!”

“Eventually? That’s pretty open ended, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Maegan, I … I can’t believe this happening! I mean… how did this happen?”

“There ya go again, sweetie. Just do as I tell ya and enjoy it. Don’t over analyze everything. Ya must be some kind of engineer or computer person!”

“I am an engineer! How did you know?”

“Becausa the way you chew over everythin and because ya way too serious!” With that, Maegan began to tickle Anne. Anne thrashed, laughing and crying, as Maegan touched every sensitive part of her body. Bound to the bed, she was helpless to stop and almost passed out from the exertion and pleasure/pain of the tickling. She was covered in sweat and panting when Maegan finally stopped working her over.

Between gasps for air, Anne threatened to get back at Maegan for this and everything else she had done. Maegan simply laughed and kissed Anne on her lips.

“I think I’ll leave ya tied up for the night, sweetie. Wouldn’t want ya sneakin’ up on me and tryin’ something!”

“You can’t leave me like this”, Anne cried out angrily.

“Ya know you’re right! You are much too loosely tied, sweetie!” Maegan gathered up some of the coils of rope and began to more fully secure Anne.

Anne made a lot of noise protesting, but to no avail. Soon, with ropes at her knees and elbows and ropes around her and the bed, Anne felt like part of the mattress. Maegan retrieved the vibrator from the floor and tied it to Anne’s thigh, adjusting the head so that it pressed into just the right spot. Anne begged her not to do it, but Maegan ignored her and switched the thing on. She stood back and watched Anne’s reaction. A few adjustments and Anne was moaning and thrusting her hips to the buzzing beat. This particular vibrator had a variable cycle and rhythm and it was driving Anne crazy. While Anne was occupied with the sensations in her crotch, Maegan forced the wiffle ball gag back into Anne’s mouth. It wouldn’t keep Anne totally quiet, but it was the thought that counted.

“OK, sweetie, we have a big day tomorrah! Try and get some rest!” Maegan laughed a nasty little chortle and over Anne’s plaintive pleas snapped off the light and went into the second bedroom to sleep. Anne cursed and moaned as the vibrator buzzed on. Maegan closed the door of her room and fell asleep almost immediately.

Sometime after 2:00 a.m., Maegan got up and went to Anne’s room. Anne was snoring loudly. The vibrator had slipped from its original position and apparently had discharged the batteries because it wasn’t running. Maegan untied Anne with nary a sound from Anne, even when she pried the ball gag out of her mouth. Maegan crawled onto the bed and cuddled next to Anne spooning up against her. Soon both women were asleep.

Anne slept late and awoke alone. She remembered being tied up and didn’t recall being untied, but she had been set free. She smelled coffee brewing and was drawn to the scent. She was sore and tired, but managed to throw on some sweats and stumble down stairs. Maegan was out on the porch wearing Anne’s shorts and t-shirt, her bare feet up on the rail, sipping coffee and watching the surf. In the early morning light with her face scrubbed clean of the garish makeup, Anne was struck by the sweetness and beauty of Maegan’s angular features. Anne poured herself a cup of coffee and joined Maegan on the porch. Neither one of them spoke and Anne found herself comfortable with the silence. She had a lot of questions and doubts, but she wisely kept her mouth shut and went with the moment.

Maegan reached over and took Anne’s hand and brought it to her mouth and kissed it. It was such a sweet thing to do; Anne smiled warmly at the girl and squeezed her hand. The questions could wait. Right now everything was good!

Maegan had some errands to do, but they agreed that she would be back after supper and they would go out to a club, like a real date. Too soon she was ready to go; they embraced and kissed on the porch and Maegan drove off in her rattletrap car.

Anne, totally confused and horny as hell, spent the day on the beach and kept checking her watch waiting for Maegan’s return!

 

story continues in Part Three

o0o

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19.03.11 | updated - 16.05.17

 

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