Pete glanced at me from his position in the driving seat and said, ‘I think you ought to tell him.’ He looked back at the road.
‘You what?’ I asked, half distracted by trying to search my bag for a tissue.
Pete indicated right and turned onto the main road. ‘Tell your boyfriend what you want him to do to you in bed.’
‘Pete!’ I exclaimed, a hot blush rising to my cheeks. Pete might be gay and therefore safe to talk to about stuff like that, but still it was a little surprising to be accosted without warning, and when sober. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Come off it, I saw the look on your face last night.’
I knew precisely what he meant, but tried to play innocent. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Takes one to know one, and I could recognise that reaction a mile off.’
His words sent me right back to the party last night – the girls’ night in with Pete as honorary girl. The wine, the laughter, the games… the moment when I’d lost a game, and as my punishment had to drink a series of shots. Keen to avoid a hangover, I’d tried to wriggle away, but they’d dragged me back into the kitchen and sat me down on a chair in the middle of the floor. Then, as I tried to stand up again, someone grabbed my hands and tied them behind my back with a kitchen towel – rough and ready, but secure. I still tried to escape, but they’d caught hold of my ankles and tied each one to a leg of the chair. As the first shot glass was brought to my lips and I prepared to swallow, I had caught Pete’s eye and noticed his amused, knowing look.
They’d untied me straight afterwards, and I’d staggered back to the party with more than alcohol running through my veins.
‘You struggled so they’d tie you up,’ Pete commented, making another turning. ‘Your face was a picture, I can tell you, when they started tying your arms. Dreams come true, some might say.’
I fidgeted in the passenger seat, queasy from both the hangover and his questioning.
‘You can’t know something like that,’ I said evasively, shocked by his perception – shocked at having my own barely acknowledged desires laid out in front of me.
‘Listen, Kate, I was exactly in your position a couple of years ago. You have these thoughts, these fantasies, but you never say anything in case your boyfriend thinks you’re strange. Believe me – you have to talk about it. Life gets a whole lot better if you do.’ He turned and gave me a wink.
‘I don’t need the sordid details,’ I said. ‘Anyway we’ve only been going out a few months.’
‘You told me yourself you think this one’s a keeper. You have to tell him. Trust me.’
I shrugged. ‘Maybe,’ I said, to placate him. But I knew I’d never get
round to it. It was so much easier not to.
We’d come out shopping for a Christmas tree and decorations, but so close to Christmas we struggled to track down a nice one. Pete eventually parked the car outside the DIY store and we wandered in to see if they had anything on offer. Lo and behold, they did.
‘Just a minute,’ said Pete as we were heading for the till. ‘I want to pick up something else.’ I followed him obediently down the aisles till he found what he was looking for.
‘Here we go,’ he said, and I turned to look where he was pointing. ‘Maybe you could buy him something like this for Christmas.’
He picked up the end of a reel of soft, white rope and ran it through his fingers, grinning at me.
‘No, Pete, not now. Let’s get home,’ I pleaded, nervously, glancing round at the aisle we were in: ropes, chains and padlocks galore. I started away, but he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back.
‘Then let me get it for you,’ he said in a determined tone. He looked around to check for other shoppers, then pulled my coat from my shoulders, tossing it into the trolley. ‘Turn around,’ he ordered.
I didn’t want to shout or struggle and bring people running, so I couldn’t stop him as he pulled my arms behind me. ‘Pete!’ I hissed, but he refused to hear. He was winding the rope round and round my wrists, knotting it securely in between my arms, far away from my fingers.
‘Look calm,’ he suddenly whispered, and stood close behind me pretending to examine a padlock set as an elderly couple wandered up the aisle and away. I froze, adrenaline flooding my veins. When they’d gone, I began to pull in earnest at the rope. He’d tied it really, really securely… I caught myself gasping at the sensations as I struggled.
I looked up at Pete, and saw him smile at my expression. ‘I can read you like a book,’ he said, and span me around again.
‘No, Pete,’ I murmured, but didn’t really fight him. Already I could feel my knickers starting to get wet… He ran the uncut rope up to my elbows and began to wind it around, drawing them ever closer together till I could take no more. Then he knotted it off, and reached into his pocket for a penknife to cut the rope.
I stood at the edge of the aisle, wrists and elbows tightly bound, totally exposed to anyone coming unexpectedly round the corner, breathing fast. Pete was collecting a host of items from the shelves – more rope, lengths of chain – and placing them in our trolley. After what seemed like hours, he returned to me and placed my coat around my shoulders, to hide my arms.
‘Time to go,’ he said brightly, and pushed the trolley away.
‘You realise this is shoplifting,’ I hissed in his ear as we queued. He hushed me and calmly handed over his credit card.
Back at the car, he helped me into the passenger seat and buckled the seat belt around me. We drove back to his house in silence. I closed my eyes and sat still, twitching every now and then at my bonds to check they were real. They were.
Inside, Pete took my coat and I walked hazily straight to the sofa, catching a glimpse of my face in the mirror that hung above the fireplace. No wonder Pete had seen into my soul… arousal gleamed in every feature. With a moan, I sat down and then lay down on the sofa, closing my eyes.
After a few minutes, I became aware of Pete kneeling in front of me, unbuttoning my jeans. ‘Don’t mind me,’ he said, pulling them off over my ankles. I gazed blankly at him as he placed my ankles together and pulled more rope out of the bag beside him. It was so incongruous, and yet so intoxicating: I watched in horrified fascination as he bound my ankles and knees securely together, winding loop after loop expertly round my limbs and securing them with a cinch that tightened everything up that little bit more. I spent a few futile minutes struggling energetically, but I soon discovered there would be no escape.
Pete left me to myself, lighting the fire as he left the room, so I could bathe in its warm glow on the cold winter evening. Half dressed, fully bound, I slipped into an aroused reverie. Every so often, I twitched at my bonds, and as they held me tight I experienced another flush across my whole body. Images flooded into my mind without bidding: my boyfriend, James, teasing my body; James knotting my arms behind my back as he kissed my neck; James entering me as I lay spreadeagled on my bed… all imaginary, but all seeming very real.
Pete reappeared, but I didn’t notice him approach. Silent as a solicitous butler, he came into the room and before I had spotted him, he was securing a cloth gag in between my teeth, tying it behind my head. I gave an ‘mmph!’ but the sensation only sent me deeper into my daydreams. I woke up enough to protest when Pete started doing something in between my legs; but he reassured me he had no interest in that area of my anatomy. What he was doing was sliding a tiny, vibrating bullet into place against my clitoris.
The orgasms that took me over the next hour were without doubt the most intense of my life to date. As I drove home several hours later, all I could think of was how much bigger they might be with James inside me…
****************
Christmas Eve. We’d chosen to spend the festive season together, all the thrills of a newish relationship – combined with a strong sense that this was special – making us not think twice about ditching family and friends for each other.
We’d decorated the tree that afternoon. Now, after dinner, wearing my sexiest dress, I bent to pick up the red-and-gold wrapped present from under the tree and walked across to where James sat on the sofa, carrying it as if it were a bomb.
‘You seem a bit tense,’ he commented as I sat beside him and offered him the gift. ‘Scared I might not like it?’ he teased.
‘Kind of,’ I replied with a smile. ‘To be honest, this present is more for me than it is for you, but I’m really hoping you’ll like it.’ I was shaking, though I did my best to control it. I placed my hand on his as he began to undo the ribbon.
‘Wait a few minutes,’ I pleaded. ‘Come and find me upstairs when you’ve opened it.’ He looked at me curiously, but gave me a long kiss as I prepared to leave.
‘I can’t say I’m not intrigued,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think there could be anything in here that I would object to.’ From his expression, I could tell he thought there was something naughty inside.
I gave him a nervous smile, and left.
Upstairs, I undressed rapidly with trembling hands, leaving in place the underwear I’d chosen earlier – a black set, trimmed with lace, his favourite. I wore bra and knickers, but no stockings. I knew he liked me simply dressed (most days, anyway).
Dear god, I felt sick… I considered running downstairs again, but realised he must have opened it by now – would be pulling out the items I’d bought for him, the pictures I’d found, the note I’d written… Stifling the urge to scream and lock myself in the bathroom, I turned down the lights and climbed onto the bed. I could feel my pulse racing like an animal in flight; and like an ostrich, I buried my head in the sand. Under my pillow was a strip of black silk. I pulled it out, tied it around my eyes, and lay down again, waiting.
It felt like hours had passed before I heard the door quietly open. He must have been able to sense the tension in the room: I was terrified, yet growing wet between my legs. I wanted to writhe and moan, but lay still, blinded by the material covering my eyes.
His first touch was electric: a kiss on my lips, reassuring me he was not angry or upset. Then his hands slid down my body and I felt him climb into the bed with me, his mouth kissing my neck, my breast, my stomach. I shivered at each touch, though his skin was fiery against my cool flesh. For a long time, he simply caressed me, kissing me all over, running his hands down my arms and legs, gently massaging my nipples through my bra, and my clitoris through my knickers.
The anticipation was the worst: the hopeful knowledge he was going to do something, and the fear that he wouldn’t. He rolled me onto my front and started to trail his tongue down my spine, grasp my bottom with his hands, breathe softly into my ears. I writhed slowly beneath him, intent on the sensations, driven slowly wild by his ministrations. I was the centre of his world, and he mine.
When he brought my left hand into the small of my back, I froze.
He held it gently there for a minute or two as he continued to caress me, and I held my breath in delicious anguish. Then, he put my right hand against my left, palm to palm behind my back, and locked my fingers together.
I stayed as he had placed me, hands behind my back, inner wrists touching and fingers entwined, as he shifted on the bed and began to stroke and kiss my legs, from bottom to toes. As he finished, ages later, he drew my legs together in a straight line, knees and ankles touching, toes pointing downwards in alignment. Then he rose from the bed.
I kept my face down, hidden by my hair and the sheets, and lay still as a statue, though quaking inside. I’d expected something physical, perhaps; but here he was playing with my mind.
The soft rope trailed across my back, and down my body to my toes. I was sure he was watching me shiver, and yearn. He slipped the rope underneath my clasped hands one, two, three times, then pulled gently till the loops came together around my wrists. He knotted them tightly together. He performed the same procedure with my ankles, winding four loops round this time, and tying them together with a secure knot.
His every touch from then on shuddered through me like a pre-orgasmic wave. Melting inside, trembling outside, I slipped into a haze where nothing existed but him.
He climbed back onto the bed and I could feel from where he brushed against my body that he was naked. He helped me up from where I lay till I knelt on the bed, and he knelt in front of me, face to face. He left the blindfold in place and took my head in his hands to kiss me, passionately.
The sensation of kissing with abandon with my arms bound behind me was intense. His arms were wrapped around me, holding me, exploring my body as I knelt before him, helpless in more ways than one. I gasped for breath as he finally moved away, and felt suddenly dizzy, disorientated by the blindfold.
I didn’t need his tongue to make me wet. As he lay me down on my side and pushed aside the crotch of my knickers, his cock slid easily into me from behind. He lay behind me, spooning me, as he slowly slid in and out of me, holding me tight. My bound arms were pressed against his chest. He moved one hand up to my lips and presented two fingers for me to take into my mouth, and I sucked them as if they were his cock, being rhythmically filled at both ends, bound hand and foot, blindfolded, existing for nothing but pleasure…
At that point, as he fucked me with fingers and cock, I climaxed – a long, slow, building orgasm that made me gasp out loud and tense in his arms. I could feel my contracting muscles pull him too to orgasm, and he came hotly inside me, thrusting jerkily.
He released me quickly, sliding his knots from my wrists and ankles, slipping the blindfold from my eyes. I snuggled against him, eyes closed, deeply happy, and he held me tight.
‘Thank you for my present,’ he whispered shortly into my ear in a tone
full of promise. ‘How did you know?’
28.07.05
01.06.06
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