I first met Emily when I was hired to babysit her while her parents were away on a business trip. She'd just turned eighteen: you can guess how well she took it. She yelled, whined and complained that she was too old for a babysitter, that she was old enough to babysit herself, so why couldn't she be alone for a week? But her parents were adamant: she was not going to be home alone, and that was that.
As soon as they were gone, she did everything she could to sass me: she refused to answer when I asked her polite questions, or snapped back; she made a mess in the living room, and refused to clean it up; the last straw came when I made dinner (macaroni), and she dropped her bowl on the floor. I snapped, I yelled at her that if she didn't want to eat, she wouldn't have to, and sent her to her room.
While cleaning up the dining room floor, I realized I'd gone too far; when I finished, I walked upstairs to her room.
I knocked on the door. “Emily?” I asked, but there was no answer.
I knocked again; still not a sound.
After a moment, I opened the door and stepped inside. Emily was sitting at her computer, and had her back to the door; she stared intently at the screen, entirely ignoring my entrance. I stepped up behind her, not trying to be quiet, and looked over her shoulder. Her web browser was opened to a page, covered in pictures and drawings of women, some naked, some not, but all in bondage. I cleared my throat loudly.
She whirled around, her face white with shock. “What are you doing?” She gasped.
“I could ask the same of you.” I replied. “Well, well,” I said, pretending to survey her computer screen, but really watching her face, “looks like the sweet and innocent daughter isn't so much, huh?”
“Please don't tell my parents!” She begged, wide-eyed. “They'd kill me!”
I must say, after all she'd done, I was tempted to do just that; but after looking in her panicked eyes, I relented. “Okay. I won't tell them.”
She relaxed so hard she almost fell out of her chair. “Thank you!” She said, gratitude shining in her eyes.
“I would like to ask you a few questions though.” I said, sitting on her bed.
“Okay.” She said with a nod.
“You like bondage, right?”
She nodded. I expected that; to tell the truth, so did I.
“Do you like the tying, or being tied up?”
She was a bit less certain to that. “Being tied up.”
“Have you ever been tied up?”
She shook her head. “Not really; I tried to tie myself up, but it- didn't work.”
I could readily imagine. “Do you want to be tied up?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Now the big one: “Would you like me to tie you up?”
I think she saw that question coming, but it was still a bit of a shock to her; her eyes widened, and she didn't say anything for a moment. “All right.” She said quietly.
“Okay,” I said rising to my feet, “I'll go get some stuff.”
I came back with a pair of bandannas, a small handkerchief, a length of coiled rope, and a pair of scissors. As I cut the rope into a few lengths, I started talking to her.
“I want you to know, that we will stop any time you want to: after every time I put something on you, I will ask you 'what now?' Then you will answer 'forward' which means to keep going, 'pause' which means to wait a minute, or 'back' which means to take it off. Do you understand?”
She nodded seriously.
“Now, a question: do you want to take your clothes off? Most people do.” I hurried on before she could interrupt: “you don't have to if you don't want to, and if you want to, you can just take some off, like just your shirt, or just your pants.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
She stood to her feet, and slowly unbuttoned her shirt, then slid it off, revealing her plain white bra. “Like this?”
“Like that, if you want.” I said with a nod.
“Okay,” she said, “let's do it.”
I had her turn about. “Put your hands on your elbows.” I instructed her.
She did so, her forearms now parallel to the floor, and I took a piece of cord about two feet long, and tied them together. “What now?” I said.
She drew a shuddery breath. “Forward.” She whispered.
I took a much longer piece of rope -about ten feet long- and tied one end around her right upper arm. I turned her around to face me, and pulled the rope across her chest, above her breasts, and wrapped it around her left arm, then passed it back across, below her breasts, and tied the end to her right arm. “What now?”
“Pause.” She said huskily, and started to test her bonds.
I sat back and just watched her for a minute, while she wriggled in her ropes. It was clear she'd never been tied up before; she pulled at the ropes, trying to get familiar with them, to see what give they had, and where. As she panted and pulled on them, I could see her nipples harden through the bra; she kept her head down, her face hidden by her long hair, as if embarrassed to be seen like that.
Finally, Emily struggled herself out; breathing heavily, sweat beaded on her skin, she raised her head and tossed her hair behind her back. “Okay,” she said, panting for breath, “forward.”
I took a piece of rope about six feet long, and tied one end to the rope around her forearms; then I pulled the other end up and over her shoulder and down between her breasts. I wrapped it around the ropes there, tightening them, then I brought it up and over her other shoulder, and tied the end to her arm-rope. I stood back to survey her: the last rope had tightened her chest harness, so it up her breasts, and pulled her arms up in back, tightening her shoulders back and thrusting her pert breasts up and out.
“What now?” I asked her quietly.
She drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Forward.”
I turned her around, then took the first bandanna and wrapped it around her eyes and tied it behind her head, careful not to catch her hair in the knot. “What now?”
“Forward.” She said without hesitation.
I led her over to the bed and helped her sit down on it, then I took a two foot piece of rope and tied her ankles together. “What now?”
“Pause.” She said, and kicked her bound legs a bit to see what she could do.
“All right,” she said, “forward.”
I took another piece and tied her thighs together. “Now what?”
“Forward.” She said quickly, almost impatiently.
I pulled Emily all the way on the bed, and turned her over on her front. “I am going to hogtie you now: that means tying your feet to our hands. Is that all right?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
I took a piece of rope about five feet long, tied one end around her ankles, then pulled her shins up until they were straight up, and tied the other end of the rope to her arms. “I suggest we pause here while you try it out.” I said.
She nodded. “Pause.”
Emily took about five minutes, pulling, and testing, and wiggling about her bed, panting, gasping and groaning.
When she finally finished to lie, gasping for breath on her side, I stepped up beside her. “What now?”
She gathered her breath. “Forward.”
I nodded, though she couldn't see it. “Now, there isn't much more that we can go forward: you can be gagged, but that means you won't be able to talk, so think very carefully about it.”
She considered it for a moment. “Forward; gag me.” She said eagerly.
I took the handkerchief. “Ready?”
She nodded.
I wadded it up in my hand, and took the remaining bandanna in the other. “Open your mouth, please.”
She obligingly did so.
I placed the handkerchief in her mouth, then lifted her head up and wrapped the bandanna around her mouth, then tied it behind her head, careful not to catch her hair in the knot.
I pulled her off her side onto her front. “Now anytime you want the gag off, just shake your head; nod if you understand.”
Emily nodded, and muttered something into her gag.
“Do you want to go forward?” I asked.
She nodded, and mumbled something. It could have been 'forward.'
“Forward does not mean more ropes.” I said. “Forward means actual contact, so what I'm asking is: do you want me to touch you?”
She thought about it, then nodded.
I rolled Emily over onto her side, then lay down on the bed facing her; her breath caught in her throat as I put my hand on her naked side, and slid it up to her breasts. She gasped when I put my hands on her breasts, then moaned in pleasure as I started kneading them, squeezing them and rolling them about. “You like this?” I asked.
“Mmh-hmm.” She nodded.
I took ahold of the upper edge of her bra cups and pulled them down, exposing her nipples. I leaned my head in close and gently nibbled and sucked at first one then the other. Still sucking on one breast, my left hand on the other, I reached down with my right, and started to rub between her legs.
She jumped, and I stopped immediately. “You want me to stop?”
She shook her head, so I reached up and untied her gag; as I did so, she shook her had and moaned. “No, no; I meant 'don't stop.'” She gasped when I ungagged her.
“Okay; from now on, moan once for 'yes' and twice for 'no.' Okay?”
She nodded, so I regagged her.
I returned to my ministrations of her breasts, and began rubbing between her legs again. She moaned, as I changed from gently rubbing to squeezing and pressing; she moaned again, and pushed her crotch against my hand. We did that for a while, then I leaned close to her and whispered into her ear: “you want to try something different?”
She moaned and nodded, pressing against me as if yearning for more. I rolled away from her and stood up. I just watched her for a bit: after a while of silence, she grunted, and began moving about, trying to find me. I reached down and grabbed Emily by the arm and rolled her onto her face, then untied her hogtie.
Emily grunted questioningly, trying to look over her shoulder (a pointless venture with the blindfold, anyway).
I untied her ankles and thighs, then rolled her over onto her back. And unzipped her jeans. Emily made no sound as I pulled them down and off her, then climbed back on the bed beside her. I sat with my back against the headboard, and pulled Emily into my lap. I put my arms around her waist, my hands resting on her taut belly, and slowly brought them up to her breasts. I nibbled on her earlobe, whispering sweet nothings while massaging her breasts, and pinching her nipples.
She moaned again and leaned back against me with a contented sigh.
I left off her breasts, and slid my hands down to her white panties. She whined questioningly, then moaned as I started rubbing her mound. She moaned louder as I rubbed faster and faster, her moans becoming full-throated screams through her gag; she screamed to a crescendo, shuddered, and fell back against me limply. After a while of just holding her, I untied Emily, and she got dressed, her panties wet.
We sat together on the bed, not saying anything. “Thank you, that was great.” She said finally.
I nodded. “You're welcome.”
“Look,” she said awkwardly, “I'm sorry about-”
“Listen,” I interrupted her, “I'm hungry, are you hungry?”
We went back downstairs, reheated the macaroni, and talked about the experience.
“What did you think?” I asked.
“Well,” she said carefully, “I expected it to be a little more- well. . .”
“It usually is.” I said, catching her meaning. “But you want to be very careful your first time, especially doing it with a stranger“.
“Well you're not a stranger now, are you?” She said with a grin.
I couldn't help but smile back.
10.07.10