Michelle's First Time

Michelle had been trying for years to tie herself up, for she so wanted to experience the intoxicating trauma of being a true damsel in bondage distress. But being the over-the-top, highly susceptible sensual creature she was, Michelle always found it impossible to think straight, if at all, when confronted by the choice of either paying closer attention to the dynamics of an inescapable bind or surrendering her discipline to a self stimulating, ‘premature’ climax.

As her twenties passed, her frustration grew, until one day, after several weeks of deliberation, she decided to confess her unfulfilled passion for rope bondage to Kat, an online buddy she’d met in an AOL chat room called ‘Darker Desires.’

As the months passed, Michelle’s apprehensions concerning a real time meet with a rope expert were slowly quelled by the ease with which Kat spoke her mind about bondage. A fast friendship formed and consummated as the wheels of Michelle’s way-overdue, fantasy-come-true were set in motion over coffee at Starbucks on a sunny afternoon in October of 2004. 

“He’s one of the best,” assured Kat when the red light in Michelle’s deep dark eyes brightened at the thought of turning her body over to a perfect stranger.

“And he can be totally trusted?” she checked.

“Absolutely; I have never had a bad experience with John.”

Kat rolled her eyes and smiled feverishly to punctuate her assurances by visually hinting at the kind of satisfaction she’d enjoyed while in my skilled company.

“And he doesn’t charge anything?” checked Michelle.

Kat smiled. “Not a thing. All he asks is that you be discreet and allow him to have at least as much fun as you have.”

“…Sounds fair enough.”

In the weeks that followed, Michelle and Kat spent almost every night, and a lot of the day, on the phone, sharing their hidden thoughts and bonding as only BD damsels do before reaching the ends of their rope, as it were, and diving, headlong, into the hallowed realms of real time, cherry-breaking bondage and discipline. Meanwhile, I followed Kat’s lead and took notes, so as to be perfectly aware of Michelle’s preferences and limitations. Pictures and vital statistics were exchanged, a midtown hotel chosen, and a time set for Michelle’s ‘first time’ venture into the premeditated fantasy she’d so longed to fulfill.

It pleased me that her knock on the door was stronger than I had expected, for I knew from experience that the weaker the knock, the more unsure damsels were when committing themselves to what she was about to get herself into. I opened things up slowly. Our first eye contact also spoke positively to how ready Michelle was and how pleased we both were with each other’s low-key readiness and delight.

“Welcome; come in.”

“Thank you,” whispered the bondage virgin as she entered the fantasy and strolled innocently into the hall, where she stopped and gave me just enough room to close the door and lead the way.

Her thick, short cropped, dark hair stood tall and fluffy, and covered most of her forehead. As I passed, she turned her head abruptly, causing the fragrance she’d so carefully chosen for the evening’s breakthrough to waft its way into my nostrils. I turned and smiled appreciatively. We said nothing. Her heels were 6-inchers and black, patent leather; her collared coat, knee-length, lush, bright red, and buttoned from bottom to top.

She wasted no time removing her black-leather gloves. A blank, but very seductive expression accompanied the move. Her hands were exquisitely feminine, with long, graceful fingers, tipped with medium-long, fire engine red polished nails. I was immediately aroused, and she knew it by the way I looked at her, vacillating from cool and collected to spontaneously vulnerable to mildly awestruck, and back again to cool and collected.

Michelle pocketed the gloves and stepped further into the room. A glance at the bed upset her composure a bit, for I’d laid out several collected loops of rope on its cover blanket, giving the moment a no-nonsense immediacy that inspired my new damsel to pout and slowly lower her eyelids into a deeper level of awareness. Her hands quickly disappeared into the coat pockets as she bit down on her lower lip and lowered her chin.

“Turn around,” I said, with a slightly masterful edge in my tone.

Michelle faced the two, mirrored sliding doors and watched as I placed my thumbs in the pockets of my tan cords and said, “Anytime you’re ready.”

We’d agreed on a signal and to dispense with formalities. If she unbuttoned the coat completely, I could begin the adventure. If she didn’t, it would mean she was either having second thoughts, or wanted to talk. Since we’d never had a phone conversation, those options seemed perfectly appropriate. But Michelle had already been abundantly convinced by the fervor and enthusiasm of Kat’s testimony. She’d come this far and waited too long to blow the opportunity in the name of an unwarranted paranoia. Both hands slid out of her pockets.

Our eyes connected and stayed that way as the slow, steady release of each button made it perfectly clear that I was about to become her Master, and would be until deciding otherwise. Since limitations had been set and my experience duly noted by Kat’s flashbacks, Michelle had chosen to fly without a net. There would be no safe word, gesture or sounds, nothing to get in the way of her losing total control. For this was the condition she’d so passionately sought to experience since waking from her first bondage dream. In it, she’d been thoroughly bound by a man whose prowess with rope inspired her to whisper 

“Awesome” as she regained consciousness and wondered why she was so hot and bothered by the semi-real sensation. 

That was eleven years earlier. Now, as she stood on the precipice of her thirtieth birthday, the impact of that dream came rushing back at her while she unbuttoned the last few seconds of her autonomy and waited for what she was sure would be the most fun-filled sexual adventure of her thus far life.

I spoke calmly and evenly. “Cross your wrists behind your back and make two fists.”

“Huh?”

“Do as I say.”

She did, and, using a five-foot strip of soft sash material, I began to bind Michelle’s wrists together as tightly as possible.

She lowered her head and wondered why we’d not removed the coat.

“Oh-my,” she appraised as a sharp spasm of discomfort and fear raced up and down her sensual awareness and she recalled a stipulation in our agreement, which, by the way, was totally brokered and documented by Kat.

‘WOW-that’s tight.’

I set the last knot and began to slowly remove my shirt.

“Lose the coat.”

Michelle immediately caught on to what the move would require and introduce into the visual aspects that followed.

‘Geeze,’ she figured, ‘It’s WAY too tight.’ 

One or two minutes of hard pressed body language followed, during which I stood a few feet away with a ten foot length of soft clothesline in hand and a look of undivided, but ‘unaffected’ attention. The coat slowly and provocatively worked its way off of Michelle’s shoulders, revealing only pantyhose and strapless bra underneath.

‘Wohw!’ I appreciated when the coat slipped down Michelle’s arms, gathering at her bound wrists, creating a kind of scarlet train over her still unseen ass cheeks. She wore no panties, but the hose made it appear she did with what looked like a black, triangular thong sown into them. The bra was black too, and one size too small to contain the billowing femininity of Michelle’s 36Ds. Six pack abs, long, well toned, almost muscular legs, and a tiny waistline visually attested to the 20-years of gymnastics and working out she’d mentioned in her historical data base.

I quickly cinched her elbows together with the ten-footer. 

“Oh!” she blurted as the move caused the wrist bind pressure to become unacceptably tight.

“You did say you wanted it tight,” I reminded, with tongue in cheek, “did you not?”

She considered not complaining during the few seconds of kinky excitement that followed. “Yes, I did… but…”

The feel of fingers undoing the wrist cinch cut the sentence short as a sigh of relief undid Michelle’s second thoughts... 

The coat fell to the floor, uncovering her perfectly proportioned posterior. 

The elbow weld did much to add further containment pressure to the strapless, an effect my new sub quickly appreciated as she stared at herself in the mirror and thought, ‘Don’t lose it now, girl… or not.’

Hard as she tried, Michelle was finding it increasingly difficult to contain the excitement of the moment. Her pussy began to throb and sweat profusely. Her face, too, soon wore an expression of deep erotic reflection as the moment she’d so patiently dreamed about for so long finally dawned on her unquenchable curiosity.

“Oh-ma-gosh,” said Michelle while another electric jolt raced to her vitals and caused her knees to buckle somewhat. “Oh.” 

I very quickly and tightly parallel bound her wrists with a five-footer, but not as brutally as before. Another sigh of relief escaped her sensibility. 

She watched as I picked up the coat, walked to the closet, and slid open its left door. “Turn around.”

As she did, I hung Michelle’s coat and set in motion the next part of my fantasy by closing the door and opening the other.

Michelle waited and got into her first real taste of inescapable rope bondage. ‘Oh-yeah…Oh-YEAH!’

I stood next to her. She gazed at me curiously, then down at the rope on the bed. I reached for another length and knelt to bind her legs together just above the knees…

Michelle lowered her chin, closed her eyes, and devoted all her attention to the first time sensation. ‘This is awesome.’

She got so caught up in the thrill of it all, that the ball gag I buckled loosely around her neck almost completely escaped her notice.

“Turn around.”

My now frazzled damsel’s eyes popped open at the sound of my voice, but her preoccupation with the bind, and the pocket of unprecedented arousal building up between her legs prevented her from tuning into the simple instruction.

“…I said turn around.”

“Oh, right,” she said as I stepped back to watch her navigate the move. The knee cinch did much to challenge Michelle’s balance, but she managed to complete the 180 degree maneuver in less than 20-seconds.

Her eyes immediately focused on where the sliding door mirror had been before her first turn around. ‘What the..?’ 

Instead, she saw my tripod and camcorder staring back at her from within the closet. Its blinking red light shot another bolt of sexual electricity up and down her spine.

“Oh-my-goodness.” The sight of a ball gag hanging from her neck was the kicker. ‘OH-boy.’

I let the loaded, visual enlightenment sink in for another thirty seconds before grabbing the fifty-foot length of 3/8ths-inch-thick, nylon rope off the bed and moving around and in back of Michelle’s now feverish but subtly writhing countenance.

She watched as I used it to thoroughly bind her arms to her torso, and thought. ‘I never said anything about letting him photograph me this way…Maybe I should tell him to stop…Oh-my, this feels outrageous…It’s so tight, and I’m getting sooooo damned horny.’

Michelle suddenly regretted her decision not to establish a safe word or sound, and guessed that if she protested too loudly, or at all, the bright red bauble hanging from her neck would be put to good use.

‘Oh-my-god, it’s huge. I’ll never fit into that, or is it that it won’t fit into me.’

I took my time with the torso bind, lacing and tightly securing cinches wherever I could. The process took a good four minutes, during which, every so often, I purposely pressed the bulge in my cords up against Michelle’s sensually animated fingers whenever I could.

She did her best not to look at the camera lens, but, like an irresistible magnet, the blinking red light kept sucking her into its imposing presence.

I finished up and headed for the camcorder. “Sit down.”

The bed was directly in back of Michelle, but the unforeseen turn of events, compounded by her limited mobility and sexual craziness made the move somewhat precarious. Michelle had to draw on all of her gymnastic discipline and skills to take control and lower her very turned on bones to the mattress.

I adjusted the camera to fit her new posture, and then stepped back into the scene to parallel bind her upper calves and ankles, with heels secured on and bound together as well.

Michelle was beside herself with damsel-in-distress trepidation and excitement. ‘This is way hotter than I thought it would be,’

All she could do was watch and experience the adventure, something she’d always longed to do, but not quite this way. Regardless, the deliciously frustrating excitement it inspired within her overwhelmed sensuality made it difficult to find fault with the unexpected video wrinkle.

“Stand Up.”

While she did, I played with the camera and pressed the pause button. In heels, Michelle stood five-foot-ten, which was also my also. She watched as I repositioned the tripod to her left and aimed the camera at the three feet of wall adjacent to the mirrored closet door. 

I pointed to it and said, before rolling tape again, “Go and stand with your back to that wall.”

Michelle did not hesitate. “Yes, Sir.”

“And cut the ‘Sir’ crap.”

After collecting a few lengths of rope off the bed and watching Michelle make the visually delicious move, I walked to and stood in front of her, dropped the rope on the floor, and put both arms around her bound upper body.

She’d done her lips bright red, which did much to contrast and compliment Michelle’s dark hair and milky-white complexion. That, and her small mouth and Tinkerbelle nose, took a good seven years off her age, adding a virginal quality to my new damsel’s overall effect. The intoxicated expression on her face also made it clear that Michelle Dubois was in her zone and was not about to object to anything that would remove her from its pleasurably ongoing implications.

I lifted the bondage virgin off the floor to reposition her heels about a foot and a half from its baseboard. A long wet one and the grinding of my severely contained erection into Michelle’s throbbing wet crevice accompanied the hugging lift-off.

At first, she resisted. But the futile attempt only made her crazier with need as the last straw on the back of Michelle’s self-control caved her into a dizzying, erotic trance, the likes of which she’d never dreamed could impact her normally unaffected, pedestrian disposition.

I slowly lowered her heels to the floor, leaned her back against the wall, and let go of my now very out-of-control-n-wanting-more damsel in sensual distress.

Michelle again fought off the impulse to speak her mind, knowing full well that if she did, the ball gag might be engaged and further kissing would be out of the question.

She watched as I circled three turns of line around her lower legs and cinched them about six-inches above the three below them. 

The line continued up and in back another six inches, where I repeated the process and moved on to a third, three-circle cinch. The two and a half feet of remaining slack ran up to the wrist ropes, where I threaded it under one of its cinch lines and back to the third leg bind.

My left hand grabbed the waist ropes and pulled Michelle’s midsection upwards to arch her back somewhat while I slipped the end of the line under and over the upper leg cinch and pulled out all the slack. Three tight knots completed the effect.

Michelle soon realized that, if she tried to stand too straight, the wrist and leg cinches would tighten considerably.

‘Damn!’ was all she thought as I stood back to appreciate her bound upper arms, upper-back-against-the-wall predicament.

Fingers danced provocatively as the magic of the moment slowly overtook Michelle’s comprehension and another half pint of blood flooded her groin.

I walked slowly to her and said, “Off the wall and stand up straight.”

The look on her face was to die for when the instruction caught up with her thinking. I stood in front of her writhing countenance and licked my lips a bit to indicate that if she obeyed the command, there would be more kissing and humping to deal with.

By now, time was totally shut down. All caution had been thrown to the wind, and an aura of complete resignation and bewilderment dominated Michelle’s expectations.

‘He’s teasing me…Why is he teasing me? I thought… This is weird.’

For as long as Michelle could remember, SHE was always the one doing the teasing; wearing tight, short, and cleavage revealing stuff to the gym, posing provocatively when doing her yoga or working out so as to arouse any horny guys within eyeshot. Then going home and masturbating while fantasizing scenarios she could never enjoy in real time. Or so she thought.

This was clearly not what she expected. ‘I love the way he kissed me.’

“Well?”

Michelle looked down at the bulge in my pants. “Could I change some of the details in our agreement?”

“Such as?”

“Can’t you guess?” said my deliriously horny damsel.

“First things first; now stand up straight.”

The minute or so that followed bristled with frustration, for both of us, only mine was considerably less demanding, though not as much fun as Michelle’s.

She pushed off the wall, leaned up against me and flashed her beautiful-brown eyes at mine while she waited for what my lip licks had indicated.

Instead, I knelt and grabbed a three-foot length of thick rope. I’d already tied five, close together knots in the middle of it. Michelle again watched with intense curiosity as I secured one end to the middle of the line that tethered her wrists to her upper leg bind. The other end was passed between her legs and centered on her crotch before being threaded under the waist ropes. The five knots in the rope dug deep into Michelle’s pantyhose and now gushing wet spot.

As I pulled out all the slack and knotted the rope to the waist circles, her eyes and mouth opened wide as a whispered, breathy “Wow” said it all.

I zoomed in on the crotch rope for about 10 seconds (the self stimulation action was more than just intense) and hit the pause button again. Michelle’s first close-up was next, during which I got down on all fours, to stay out of frame, and slowly headed for her frantically undulating crotch rope activity. 

Her eyes were closed, so she didn’t know what I was up to until I was up to it. First, I knelt in front of her now wildly writhing, bound and bothered physique and roughly grabbed hold of her ass, pinching, squeezing, fondling and occasionally slapping it between animal attacks on her inner thighs and groin with my mouth and nose. The on-tape head shot was awesome.

Several fantasy fulfilling seconds went by before I crawled back to the camcorder and zoomed out for a wider perspective.

“You, you, you’re driving me out of my mind, Sir. I mean…”

“John,” I snapped, “my name is John.”

“…John.”

“Good girl. Now get your ass on the bed, and be quick about it.”

Michelle again heard what I said, but its intent didn’t sink in for a good three seconds. “…What?”

“You heard me; on the bed, now.”

Michelle’s incredulity managed a very labored and breathless “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You wish. Now get on with it.”

“With WHAT?!” Michelle was obviously reaching the end of her proverbial rope. “I’m so tied up I can’t even think (heavy breathing), let alone travel.”

“Have it your way.” I spat ominously as I moved to and grabbed hold of the ball gag, which I stuffed, with some difficulty, into Michelle’s gaping mouth. It was one size too big, a glitch neither one of us gave a damn about, given all the fireworks going off in our libidos and private parts.

Michelle’s eyes closed to savor all the erotic nuances of her first inescapable gag. ‘Un-fucking real.’

Things were really starting to pile up on her bondage inexperience, but that didn’t stop me from grabbing and roughly removing the strapless. Her gorgeous breasts stood tall and full, tipped perfectly with rock hard, eraser-size nipples.

‘Wonder if she’s married.’

I pushed her bound arms back against the wall, which relieved the crotch rope and wrist cinch pressure to about half of what it was before she stood tall for her next kissing and humping fix.

She looked down at her breasts and watched as I affixed a hangman’s noose to the left nipple and drew it tight. The other end of the thin tether was also set so, but only after the right breast was brought closer to the left to lose the slack.

Michelle’s ample mounds were now three-quarters of an inch closer than they were before being tethered. I plucked the thin line like guitar string a few times and stood her up straight again, whereupon I immediately bombarded her neck and shoulders with a barrage of kisses, tongue action and such, while grabbing her ass and grinding my hard-on into her wildly twitching and undulating crotch-roped pussy.

Her look was classic. Ball gags make all the difference when damsels are redlining into virgin territory. “Tight enough?”

Her orgasmic response was spectacular; as were the sounds that she could not help but utter while appreciating stage one of Michelle’s first perilous adventure in real time, sensual rope bondage.

‘Un-FUCKing REAEAEAEAL!’

John Roper
 

05.11.05

story continues in Michelle's First Time

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