{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"72b56ee1-1416-4c09-9420-abf1650ff59f","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2023-06-22T05:56:38.214Z","title":"The Bondage Challenge","slug":"the-bondage-challenge","shortId":"BTpicEcP","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"What I want most from a man is simple: bondage. I need a guy who can bind me so tight that I can't get out. Andrew failed the first time, but tonight he's not taking any chances; he's brought a straitjacket.\nThis is going to be fun.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"6253ca87-37d7-4693-a08e-f52a8af7b283","title":null,"summary":"\nWhere are all the kinky, dominant guys? Even after That Book made\nBDSM mainstream, I still have tro","wordCount":4671,"readTime":23,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

\nWhere are all the kinky, dominant guys? Even after That Book made\nBDSM mainstream, I still have trouble finding a man with both the\ndesire and ability to tie me up properly.

Yes,\nI'm kinky. Very kinky. I don't understand why most women enjoy a man\npounding into them without any rope, leather or chains involved. It's\njust so... dull. In fact, you can give me the restraints and forget\nthe pounding!

So\nI have a rule for men: if they want a relationship with me, they need\nto pass a test. They have to show that they have both the inclination\nand ability to treat me the way I need to be treated: they have to\nbind me so that I can't get out. I've been into bondage for a long\ntime, so that's not an easy task for them. Which is the idea: I'm\nkinky, but I'm not easy.

Is\nit topping from the bottom? Sure. But what's wrong with that? We both\nget what we want.

The\nproblem is, most men can't pass the test. So when I break up with\none, it takes me months to find another. When I'm single, like I am\nnow, I keep auditioning men in the hope that they'll pass, but most\nfail.

Andrew\nwas one of those who tried and failed. Unlike most of them, he\ndecided to have another go. Today is Friday and he's coming over this\nevening, hopefully for the weekend. I wonder if he'll do better this\ntime?

The\ndoorbell rings. I glance at the clock on the wall and see that it's\neight o'clock precisely. Good, he's punctual. \n

I\ntake my time walking downstairs to the front door. I like my men to\ndominate me in the bedroom, but until we get there, I'm the princess\nand he waits.

Not\nthat I'm dressed like a princess tonight, no ball gowns or fancy\nclothing. Just my tightest ripped blue jeans and an almost\ntransparent tight white top. I haven't bothered with a bra, so my\nnipples can be seen plainly through the thin material. On my feet are\nplain, black leather boots. The whole outfit is designed to show off\nmy assets without looking like I've tried too hard.

And,\njust as importantly, it's all easy to remove.

As\nI walk slowly to the door, I think back to the night when we met.

\n-----

It\nwas about six weeks ago, a Friday again, and as usual I was in a\nsingles bar. One of the reasons I enjoy living in a big city is that\nthere are lots of places to meet new men!

I'd\nbeen standing alone at the bar, sipping my drink slowly, for almost\nan hour. A couple of men had already hit on me, only to be given\npolite rejections. Andrew and his friends had arrived about twenty\nminutes ago. I'd seen him watching me since they came in.

As\nusual on these nights, I was dressed to impress. Nothing outlandish,\nno fetish gear. Tight, black leather trousers sat above red,\nhigh-heeled shoes. My top was a red piece covered with a repeating\npattern of small, black designs which – if you looked really\ncarefully – might, perhaps, have resembled handcuffs. And, of\ncourse, the colour of my lipstick sat just the right side of the line\nbetween flirty and tarty.

I\nwas, if I say so myself, looking good. \n

So\nwas he.

As\nI finished up my drink, I turned my head and let him catch my eye. I\ngave a quick smile, then brushed back my hair and turned round to\nface the bar again.

He\nwas over within seconds. \"Hi!\" he said. \"I'm Andrew.\nCan I refill that glass for you?\"

Straightforward\napproach, no cheesy pickup lines. Good start.

\"No,\"\nI replied and his face fell. \"But perhaps... perhaps I could get\nyou a coffee? At my place?\"

\"Er...\noh... yes. Yes of course!\"

\"But\nthere's just one thing...\" I leant in and whispered into his\near: \"You have to tie me up.\"

His\neyes almost bulged out of his head. I knew then that he'd fail the\nchallenge, but he was cute so I decided to let him have a go.

We\nwere back at my house in less than half an hour. Nothing was said\nduring the cab ride, but I could almost hear his mind whirring as he\ntried to decide whether he was the luckiest man alive or the victim\nof a joke set up by his friends.

When\nwe arrived, he paid for the cab and we went indoors. I didn't bother\nwith the coffee that neither of us wanted. Instead, I led him\nstraight upstairs to my bedroom.

Once\nthere, I switched on the light and closed the door behind us.

\"So,\"\nI said. \"Have you ever tied up a woman?\"

\"No.\"\nHe shook his head. \"It's not something I've ever really done.\nBut now you've suggested it, well...\" His eyes caressed my\nfigure. \"I'd definitely like to give it a try.\"

I\nsmiled. He had an open mind, which meant he had potential. \"Well,\nhere's your chance. It's a challenge: you tie me up and I try to\nescape. If I get out before morning, I win and you go home. If I\ncan't escape, you win. Would you like to see the prize?\"

His\nsmile told me all I needed to know. I began slowly undressing,\nputting on a show. By the time I was down to my lacy bra and panties\nit looked as if his cock was going to burst through his jeans.

I\nremoved the final items of clothing, then walked over to the cabinet\nwhere I keep my toy collection. Since he was new, I decided to keep\nit simple. I leant over, making sure he got a good view, and brought\nout a long piece of soft, red bondage rope which I store neatly\ncoiled.

Turning,\nI threw the rope to him. He caught it easily, held it in both hands\nand ran it through his fingers as I went and lay face up on the bed.

\"Here's\nthe deal,\" I said to him, opening my legs slightly. \"You\ntie me up, any way you like. Then you go downstairs and sleep on the\ncouch. If I'm still tied up in eight hours, I'm yours for the\nweekend. You can do whatever you want with me.\"

I\nsaw the lump in his throat as he swallowed. \"Anything?\"

\"Well,\nanything sane! But that's only if you win. If I get out, I win and\nyou leave. Out the door, out of my life. Gone. OK?\"

He\nnodded, twisted the rope in hands a few times as if getting the feel\nfor it, then walked over to the bed where I was laying. He spent a\nfew seconds looking down at me, whether deciding what to do or just\nadmiring the view I'm not sure. Probably both.

Am\nI crazy? Letting a man I don't know come into my house and tie me up?\nPromising that he can do anything with me if I can't escape? Maybe I\nam a little bit crazy, it's definitely a risky thing to do. Hell,\nlet's be honest: it's dangerous. But I like to think I'm good at\nsizing men up quickly, I've had plenty of experience. If I have any\ndoubts, I don't even invite them home. Sure, it's still a risk –\nbut one I'm aware of and willing to take.

\"Hands\nout front,\" he said. I complied, holding them straight up in the\nair.

He\nreached out and wrapped one end of the rope around my left wrist and\nknotted it lightly. \"Is that too tight?\" he asked. I shook\nmy head, at which he removed then retied the knot, tighter this time.\nYes, I thought, this guy has potential.

He\nwrapped the rope around my left wrist a few times, then took it over\nto my right. A few coils went round that, finished off by another\ntight knot. He stood back to admire his work so far and I smiled up\nat him, wriggling my arms gently to emphasise my apparent\nhelplessness.

\"Wow,\"\nhe said. \"You looked hot before, but now... Tied up like that.\nWow. Now you're just amazing.\"

\"Thanks,\"\nI replied. \"But remember, you can't have me if I can escape.\nYou've more work to do.\"

\"With\npleasure.\"

He\ntook the length remaining at the end of the rope and ran it down\ntowards my feet. Then he stopped.

\"I've\nhad an idea,\" he said. \"Bring your knees up.\"

I\ncomplied silently, bringing my legs together and lifting them so that\nmy bound wrists were between my breasts and my knees.

He\nran the rope from my wrists between my legs and down to my feet. A\nloop went round my left ankle and was tied in place. Then he wrapped\nall the remaining length of rope around and around both ankles until\nthere was only enough left to tie off in a final knot.

Being\ntied up and immobilised is one of the things I enjoy most in life.\nThe touch of his fingers, the feeling of the soft, red rope... all\nhad combined to make me hot and damp.

He\nstepped back from the bed and looked at me. Laying on my back in\nfront of him naked, wrists and ankles bound to themselves and each\nother, legs in the air.

\"Like\nwhat you see?\" I asked with a grin.

\"Oh\nyes, very much. I never realised that tying up a woman would be so\nmuch fun.\" His hand rubbed his crotch, apparently without even\nrealising he was doing it.

Well,\nhe'd passed the first part of the test: enjoying it. But the second\npart...

\"So,\"\nhe said. \"What now? Do I go downstairs and wait until morning?\"

\"No,\nI'm afraid not. I'd be out of these ropes before you got to the\nbottom of the stairs.\"

His\nface crumpled with disappointment.

\"Not\nbad for a first time,\" I said. \"But you made lots of\nmistakes. It would have been better if you'd got me to cross my\nwrists then wrapped them both ways. Or at least cinched the loop.\"

\"Cinched?\"

\"As\nit is, I can wriggle quite a bit and the loops aren't secure.\" I\ndemonstrated, using a thumb to flick a loop over. \"Which means I\ncan find enough slack to get my hands to the knots.\" I easily\nuntied one wrist then the other. Then reached down and untied my\nankles.

I\ndropped the rope on the floor and lay back on the bed.

\"Sorry,\nAndrew. You can let yourself out.\"

At\nthis point, one of three things can happen. Around 95% of men slink\noff and I never see them again. A few seem to think that 'No' means\n'Yes' and assume I'm just teasing; the pepper spray I keep nearby\nmakes it very clear that I'm not.

A\nvery, very small number of men ask for another chance.

Andrew\nlet his eyes run along my naked body from my feet all the way up to\nmy head. Then he looked me directly in the eye. \"Let me try\nagain,\" he asked.

I\nstudied at him and pretended to think about it. In reality, I'd\nalready made up my mind. He was cute, he'd clearly enjoyed tying me\nup. I'd been single for a while and found myself wanting him to\nsucceed.

\"OK,\"\nI said. \"You can have one more go.\"

He\nmoved towards the rope on the floor, but I raised a hand and stopped\nhim.

\"But\nnot tonight. I have a rule: some people get a second chance, nobody\ngets a third. Don't waste your second chance until you're sure. Go\naway, do some research, maybe buy some gear of your own. Then contact\nme.\" I gave him my phone number.

\"So\nit doesn't have to be rope?\" he asked. The expression on his\nface showed he was imagining the possibilities.

\"No,\"\nI replied. \"Whatever you like – except chains and handcuffs.\nEven I can't get out of those.\" That last bit was a lie, I'm\nvery flexible.

He\ndouble checked he had my phone number right, then left.

\n-----

Even\nwhen I agree to give them a second chance, most men never actually\ncome back. Maybe they decide they're just not into the kinky stuff,\nor maybe their male pride is hurt by the fact that they failed my\nchallenge. I never know nor care.

But\nAndrew... Andrew came back. About four weeks after our first meeting,\nhe sent me a message asking to see me again. We arranged a Friday\nevening, and here we are.

I\nopen the door and he's standing there with a sports bag in one hand.\nIn the other is... a large bunch of flowers. Not what I normally\nexpect from a man who's about to tie me up, hopefully for the\nweekend!

\"Thank\nyou,\" I smile. \"They're lovely.\"

He\nreturns the smile and, to my relief, doesn't make the predictable\nresponse. I definitely feel good about having invited him back for a\nsecond chance.

I\nshow him into the lounge, then take the flowers in the kitchen and\nplace them in a vase. That done, I pour coffee; this time we actually\nwill be having coffee! Well, he'll be having it. I'm not going to\ndrink anything, just in case he succeeds in tying me up for the whole\nnight.

Joining\nhim in the sitting room, I hand him the cup then we sit down facing\neach other. As he sips his drink, we make small talk. But not for\nlong. After all, we both know why he's here.

Since\nhe's too much of a gentleman to broach the subject, I start.

\"So,\nAndrew. Do you think you'll manage to restrain me properly this time?\nBind me so tightly that I won't be able to get out all night.\"

\"I\nhope so,\" is his honest reply. \"I've been doing a lot of\nresearch on the internet...\"

I\nlaugh. \"Oh you poor thing. That must have been a dreadful\nchore.\"

He\nlaughs easily along with me. \"Oh yes, I really hated viewing all\nthose sites! The things we do for... lust.\"

\"And\nthe bag?\" I ask quickly, looking down at it on the floor.

\"Oh\nyes. I also did some shopping. Like you suggested. I never knew how\nmuch kinky stuff there was out there, just a mouse click away! It was\ndifficult to choose, but I in the end I bought...\"

He\nstops as I hold up my hand. \"Don't tell me,\" I say. \"Show\nme.\"

I\nget up from the chair and he rises too. He picks up his bag and I\nlead him up to the bedroom.

Closing\nthe door behind us I go and stand by the bed. \"Here we are,\"\nI say. \"How would you like to tie me up? Clothed or naked?\"\nI'm teasing and can see from his face that he knows it.

\"Oh,\nI think you should be naked. Especially for what I have in mind.\"\nHe looks meaningfully at his bag, which he places on the floor.

Sounds\ninteresting.

I\nstart to strip, beginning with my top. Since I'm not wearing a bra, I\ndo this slowly, teasing him as I gradually expose my breasts. As\nexpected, his attention is immediately riveted by them.

Next\nI remove the boots, revealing the naked feet inside. Wearing boots on\nbare skin isn't comfortable, but I knew that this evening I wouldn't\nbe keeping them on for long.

Finally,\noff come the jeans. Not only did I do without a bra, I also did\nwithout panties. This slowly becomes apparent to Andrew as I shimmy\nout of the jeans. They drop to the floor and I kick them aside, now\nstanding totally naked.

\"Oh\nyes,\" he says. \"Quite a show. Almost worth the price of\nadmission on its own.\"

I\nturn to lay down on the bed, but before I do so he stops me.

\"No,\"\nhe says. \"I'm going to need you standing up. At least at first.\"

Now\nthis is definitely getting interesting. I was expecting maybe a\nhogtie, but he's clearly got past that in his 'research'. So I stay\nstanding and spread my arms.

\"OK,\nhere I am. Standing.\"

He\nkneels down and moves his bag so that I can see it well. Then he\nslowly unzips it. He reveals the contents gradually, teasing me in\nmuch the same way as I teased him. I catch sight of something large\nand white, with the flash of metal buckles. My mind races and I\nrealise that there's only one thing this can be.

He\nbrings it out of the bag and lets it unfurl before me. I was right.

What\nhe's holding is a white, canvas straitjacket. The front is solid with\ntwo long, sealed arm pieces. The opening is at the rear where there\nare rows of eyelets on both sides for lacing up the occupant. There\nare also loops, straps and buckles attached at various points.

I've\nbeen bound in straitjackets before, but not very often. They're great\npieces of bondage equipment and if used correctly they're almost\nimpossible to escape from. Unfortunately, they cost a small fortune.\nAt least they do if you buy a quality one and know how to use it.

From\nwhat I can see, this looks like a very high quality. It's made from\nsturdy-looking white canvas with very solid stitching. A good choice.\nMaybe I really will be unable to get out and have to spend the whole\nnight in it. Possibly the entire weekend if that's what he decides.\nIf he knows how to use it.

It's\na wonderful thought and I realise I've taken a step forwards in my\neagerness to get into the jacket.

\"Arms\nout,\" he says and I raise my arms, holding them out straight in\nfront of me.

He\nbrings the jacket towards me, lining up the arm holes. I slip my\nhands into the long sleeves and, as he continues moving the jacket\nforwards, I push my arms into it, wriggling them along the canvas\ntubes. Although the material is soft, it's also very strong and the\nsleeves hug my arms tightly.

By\nthe time the front of the jacket makes contact with my chest, my arms\nare deep into the sleeves. There are no holes at the end for my\nhands, the material simply tapers off into a flatter section. I can\nstill bend my hands into fists, but individual fingers are\neffectively useless. The very ends of the sleeves are sealed with\nstraps attached.

Now\nthat my arms are secured, Andrew walks round and stands behind me. He\ntakes the open sides of the jacket and pulls them together behind my\nback, causing the material at the front to pull more tightly against\nmy body and push heavily on my breasts. My nipples are hard and dig\ninto the fabric.

The\njacket has a high collar which he lifts into position, then pulls\ntight at the back. I feel him run the cord through the collar\neyelets, then he begins to thread them down my back. One to the left,\none to the right, tighten. On to the left, one to the right,\ntighten...

A\nzip would have been a lot quicker and probably just as secure, but\nnowhere near as much fun. At least half the fun of bondage for me is\nthe thrill experiencing being bound; I assume that men get as much\nfun out of the act of binding. Slower is often better.

Certainly\nAndrew takes his time, occasionally making appreciative comments\nabout how much he's enjoying it. The cord gets lower and lower down\nmy back, and with every eyelet the chance of my escaping becomes\nless. He's not leaving any slack at all in the cord and is pulling\nthe jacket very tight, compressing my stomach almost like a corset.

Eventually\nthe cord reaches the final eyelets at the bottom of the jacket and he\nties it off. I wonder how good a job he made of the knot?

Now\nhe turns his attention to the other straps on the rear of the jacket.\nThese buckle and tighten across my back. Not only do they serve to\nseal the suit more tightly, they also protect the lacing and make it\nalmost impossible to loosen.

At\nthe moment, I could reach behind my back. However, with my hands\nenveloped in the canvas ends of the sleeve, opening the buckles would\nbe a difficult task.

Soon\nit will become impossible: he says a single word, \"Arms\".

I\nknow what needs to be done and cross my arms loosely underneath my\nbreasts. I leave a little slack to give me more room to twist and\nturn later, making escape easier.

He\ntakes the two ends of the arms of the straitjacket and pulls them\nbehind my back. One of the straps goes through the buckle on the\nother and he pulls tight. Well, as tight as he can with me resisting.

My\nplan to leave my arms loose doesn't last long. From nowhere I feel a\nsharp pull on the hair at the back of my head. I squeal and for a\nmoment forget to concentrate on keeping my arm muscles tensed. In\nthat instant, he pulls the strap behind my back tighter and my arms\nare jammed right into my chest beneath my breasts. Any slack I had is\nnow gone.

He\nreally has been doing his research. He definitely knows how to use a\nstraitjacket.

My\narms are now sealed tightly as if hugging myself. Even if I had the\nuse of my hands, their positions would make them ineffective. I twist\nand pull experimentally, but the buckles at the back are solid and\ndon't give.

There\nare two more straps hanging down from the bottom of the front of the\nstraitjacket. I had been wondering if he'd forgetten about them, or\nnot known what to do with them, but he that's not to be.

He\ntakes the first strap and runs it under my right thigh and round the\nback where it's buckled in place at the bottom of the rear of the\njacket. The second goes round my left thigh and is also buckled\ntightly. With these two in place, I won't be able to get the jacket\noff over my head. Also, the constant pressure on the sides of my\npussy is going to ensure that it stays moist... not that I need any\nextra stimulation!

\"Well\ndone,\" I say, the compliment sincere. \"It's going to take\nme a while to escape from this.\"

\"Did\nI say I was finished?\"

He\ngoes back to his bag and this time what comes out is black. Three\nblack leather straps.

He\ntakes these and walks round behind me. \"Legs together,\" he\nsays. I obey, then feel the first strap being placed around my\nankles. He pulls it tight and buckles it in place. Another goes below\nmy knees and a third above them, pulling my thighs together and\ncausing the straps at the base of the jacket to press more firmly on\nmy pussy.

My\nlegs are now securely welded together. So much for the idea of using\nmy feet to manipulate the straps!

\"Onto\nthe bed,\" he says.

Walking\nis impossible with my legs and feet strapped together. There's just\nenough slack in the ankle straps for me to hobble slowly, half an\ninch at a time. It takes me at least a minute of slow shuffling to\ncover the short distance to the side of the bed. Andrew watches on,\nclearly enjoying the sight of a tightly bound woman struggling to\nobey his command.

That's\nthe sort of attitude I like in a man.

Now\nI'm at the side of the bed, how am I going to get onto it? I try\nkneeling forward, the thigh straps cutting into my muscles as I do\nso. With my knees on the bed, I bring up my feet and try to swing\nround...

At\nwhich point I fall flat on my face on the bed, unable to use my hands\nto stop myself.

From\nbehind me I hear Andrew laugh. Then he walks over and rearranges my\nbody so that I am laid out neatly in the middle of the bed. He turns\nme over so that I'm face up and can see him standing, leaning over\nme.

\"Thanks!\"\nI say.

He\nsmiles. \"Such a pretty face,\" he says. He reaches out a\nhand and runs a finger along one of my cheeks. \"So pretty. It\nalmost seems a shame...\"

What\ndoes he mean by that? I watch him go over to his bag and bring\nsomething else out. Black leather again.

He\nwalks back over and holds the object so I can see it: a black leather\nhood with eye, nose and mouth holes.

\"Covering\nsuch a pretty face,\" he says. \"It's a crying shame. Well, I\nsuppose I'll just have to man up and do it.\" He gives me a\ncheeky wink.

The\nhood, like the straitjacket, is open at the back with eyelets for\nlacing it up. He places it over my head and pulls it down gently,\nmanoeuvring it into place and ensuring that the holes in the front\nline up with the relevant parts of my face.

The\ngorgeous smell of fresh leather seeps into my nose, the hood is\nclearly new. It's also an expensive one. Some are made of cheap\nmaterial that hardly bends. Not this one. This is soft and yielding,\nforming itself over the shape of my head.

Once\nit's in place, he begins to lace it up at the back. As with the\njacket, he takes his time and ensures that the seams are pulled\ntightly together. Finally, he ties it off at the base.

He\nlays my head back down on the bed and grins at me from above. I try\nto imagine what I must look like, my now useless arms hugging my\nchest, the straps round my legs and the hood covering my face; the\nblack of the leather contrasting with the white of the straitjacket.

It's\na good picture and I moan happily. If I was a man, I'm sure I'd want\nto fuck a helpless package like that. From the look in his eyes and\nthe bulge in his crotch, I can tell that Andrew feels the same way.\nBut that wasn't the deal and he sticks to the agreement.

\"Eight\nhours,\" he says, looking my body up and down. \"Then it's\nall mine. For the whole weekend.\"

\"Not\na chance,\" I say through the hood, not really believing it.\n\"I'll be out of this in ten minutes.\"

He\nlaughs. \"I don't think there's any way that will happen.\nUnless...\" A serious look comes over his face, \"Unless you\nbite your way through the straps.\"

I\ncan't tell whether or not he's joking. Then his poker face cracks. He\nlaughs and holds up a large red ballgag on a black leather strap.\n\"But I think I know how to prevent that!\"

Jackpot!

I\ndon't struggle as he brings the ball to my face, in fact I open my\nmouth as wide as possible. If he understands the importance of a gag\nthen he's learned something of the psychology of BDSM, the intense\nthrill of powerlessness in all its forms.

With\nthe gag strapped securely behind my head, I am now truly helpless. I\ncan't argue, beg or scream. Again, I think that he could do anything;\nagain, he resists.

He\nmakes sure that the nose hole in the hood is clear and I'll be able\nto breathe properly, then nods in satisfaction. \"Almost done,\"\nhe says. \"Just one final touch.\"

This\ntime he brings out a black leather blindfold. The straps go through\nloops on the side of the hood and it buckles at the back. Again, it's\nmade of high quality, soft leather and has padding to keep it\ncomfortable. With the straps fed through the hood loops, I won't be\nable to shake it off.

So\nnow I am sightless as well as voiceless, lacking the use of my arms\nand my legs.

Andrew\nhas exceeded my expectations.

I\nhear his voice at my ear. Through the thick leather of the hood it\nsounds like a whisper, but the words are clear: \"I hope you're\nenjoying this. I spent money on this gear, a lot of money. That money\nwas for you. So you know what that makes you? A whore. My bound,\nslutty whore.\"

Those\nwords get my blood beating even faster than before. A bound, slutty\nwhore. Yes. That's what I want to be. No longer a princess, just his\nhelpless bondage slut. I want to cum now right now, want him to fuck\nme, but he doesn't touch me.

He\ncontinues: \"I could do anything to you now, anything. And you\ncouldn't resist.\" I wriggle happily on the bed, demonstrating\nfor both of us my powerlessness. \"But,\" he says. \"I\nwon't. I'll stick to the rules of the game, give you the night to try\nto escape. You've got eight hours to get out. If you're still in this\nstraitjacket tomorrow morning... well, I have plans for the weekend.\nAnd another bag of toys in the car.\"

I\nfaintly hear his footsteps walking away, followed by the bedroom door\nopening and shutting behind him. I'm left wondering about the\ncontents of that second bag.

So\nnow I have eight hours in which to escape from this tight bondage. If\nI don't, I'll spend the whole weekend as the helpless toy of a man I\nbarely know.

I\nlay still for a few minutes, enjoying the sensation of being bound.\nThen I start shifting around, tugging experimentally at the various\nstraps. He's done a good job and there are no obvious areas of slack\nthat I can make use of.

For\na while I think that he's got me, that I really am trapped. That\nthought always brings with it a pang of alarm, which my brain then\ntranslates into a rush of sexual pleasure.

But\nmuch as I enjoy being bound and helpless, I really, really dislike\nbeing beaten. So I struggle harder, twist in every direction my limbs\nwill go. As I wriggle, testing the bonds, I realise that for all his\ncareful research he's made one serious mistake.

It's\na beginner error: he forgot to fasten the strap at the front of the\nstraitjacket that should hold the arms to the chest. Without that in\nplace, I'll eventually be able to get my arms above my head. That\nwill give me enough flexibility and reach to undo the other straps.\nManipulating the buckles through the canvas will be difficult, but\nI've got experience. With time I'll manage it.

If\nhe'd remembered that front strap, or padlocked the buckles, I'd be\ntruly stuck. Trapped here on the bed until he walks in on me tomorrow\nmorning. \n

As\nit is, it will probably take me about an hour of sweaty exertion to\nget free.

All\nI need to do is wriggle.

I\ncan imagine how he'll react when I walk in on him downstairs, can\nimagine his face falling. He's so keen, so eager. He has so much\npotential. Still, rules are rules and he failed the test.

But...

I\nthink back over the evening since he arrived.

I\nthink about how cute he is. I think about the fact that, even when I\nwas helpless, at no point did he break the rules and let his hands\nwander. I think about the way he ran his finger along my cheek.

I\nthink about the flowers.

I\ndecide not to wriggle.

","authorName":"Amber Talidge","authorUserId":"51f6c2d1-3999-49fd-86fb-773dfdb72dc6","rating":5,"ratingCount":2,"reviewCount":2,"quoteCount":0,"storyCodes":["Light","Moderate","Real Life","Bondage","Submission","Consensual","Romantic"],"language":"English","readTime":23,"recommendations":[{"id":"5c856d96-9f46-42e4-b546-5f4fbf44589a","title":"Birthday Bondage","slug":"birthday-bondage","shortId":"lokLtsIN","synopsis":"First time female self-bondage. This story is written in the first person from the point of view of the female sub.\n\nPlease remember that self-bondage can be dangerous: don't try this at home.","rating":5},{"id":"15420662-27cd-48ee-88f9-8abd3ff0f16a","title":"The Music Room. The Sequel","slug":"the-music-room-the-sequel","shortId":"svRH3rcA","synopsis":"Sequel to \\\"The music room\\\" for those who want the details spelled out for them instead of using their imagination. (You know who you are)","rating":5},{"id":"40f37dff-d609-4a3b-982b-98b6fc0a48a4","title":"Her Breasts","slug":"her-breasts","shortId":"CsIFInGZ","synopsis":"A man acquires his wife's breasts and what he does with them.","rating":5}]}}},"actionData":null,"errors":null}