Caught in the Act

Marty didn’t fully understand why she took these risks.  There was the adrenaline rush and, of course, the sexual aspect of it.  Maybe she didn’t understand it, but she truly loved it; so much so, that it was beginning to border on an obsession!  She had kept her ‘hobby’ to herself never confiding in lovers or friends for all the time she had been doing it.  Sometimes she thought she would like to share it with someone, but she never acted on it.  She was able to satisfy her fantasies and her sexual needs, so why complicate her life by adding another person to the mix?  She wondered if it was because she didn’t want to be seen as too, too odd or maybe because it was just hers and she wanted to keep it that way or a control thing.   Whatever her motivation, it was her little secret and it would remain so.

What an odd duck, I am, she thought as she began the walk to her latest adventure.  But I feel so alive and relaxed at the same time when I do this.   I just love it!

It was a beautiful fall morning… well, not fall officially, but after Labor Day, summer was over around here.  The air was cool and the sun, visible through the still green trees, had begun to burn off the mist. Steam rose from a nearby weed-choked pond as it gave up its heat to the cool morning.  The tall grasses were laden with dew and slapped at her legs.  She stuck to the narrow remnants of the roadway to keep them dry.

Her pack rode comfortably in the small of her back, laden with her gear as she hurried along, eager to get to her destination, but beginning to enjoy the journey.  A digital camera dangled from a strap around her neck and a collapsible tripod hung from a second strap over her shoulder 

She snapped some pics as she walked.  On a couple of occasions she stopped and set the camera up on a convenient stump or rock not bothering with the tripod and took some “candid” shots of herself as she walked.  She figured she might be able to work them into the narrative.  That was a relatively new part of her adventures, crafting a story and posting it with photos on the ‘net.  She got almost as large a charge out of publicizing it as doing it!

She could feel the tension draining away and her usually brisk pace for walking slowed; her hips swung more freely and the tightness she often felt in her chest and belly was gone.  It was so weird that this game she played could both relax and excite her.  Plain, old vanilla sex never seemed to do for her what this did, but it went beyond that.  She could be someone else and experience danger and adventure; she could forget about her real life for a while. 

Her mind wandered to the “story” she was planning to tell.  Her pulse quickened as she thought of the setups she wanted to do and the layout of the area as she remembered it.   

Today, she would be a schoolgirl, skipping school for the day and indulging her love of exploring. She would go to a run-down and abandoned farmhouse to photograph it for a school project, but there was something she didn’t know about the place.  Since it was out of the way and isolated, a group of fetishists used it as a meeting place.  There they practiced their offbeat “hobby” of kidnap fantasies.  Marty would stumble right into it!

She had discovered this particular house while searching through some satellite mapping.  It was near her home and was actually a part of a State forest preserve. 

Once she had found it on the map, she knew she had to see it.  She easily found the County road it was located off and the almost obliterated turnout for the driveway.  She had parked in the turnout and headed off along the old farm road that was rapidly being reclaimed by the forest.  After a stretch of woods, the road opened into a field reverting back to forest.  From the map, she knew the road was at least a half-mile long and she wondered what ever possessed the original farmer to locate here. She came to a slight rise and, looking down, caught sight of the old building.  The long abandoned farmhouse, while still standing, was clearly on its last legs.  The dilapidated structure with the debris-strewn dooryard was a perfect setting for her edgy games!

She watched the house for a while for signs of activity and seeing none continued along the road toward the house.  In a few minutes she reached the house and explored around it, gingerly entering through the broken down front door.  As she moved carefully through the ruined building she listened intently for creaks and groans that would signal impending collapse, but was surprised to find that it was in better shape than it looked!

There was stuff scattered around, household goods, etc. that must have been left by the last occupants.  Moldering furniture remained, chairs, a battered sofa, cupboards, etc.  Upstairs was the same with disgusting mattresses in several rooms and scattered clothing items as well as the inevitable evidence of teen sex and drinking parties.  The place smelled of mice, must and mildew.

She had expected that others had been here.  That was part of what fueled her adrenaline and made what she was going to do so exciting to her!  The littered rooms upon closer examination seemed to be less the product of new visits and more just the stuff of past vandals.  Nothing looked like it was left here in the recent past.  That didn’t mean that someone couldn’t come along while she was here, but the place did seem to be off the beaten path and largely ignored.  From the blown out front windows she could see back along the road to the crest of the hill and out the back across another field long unplowed.

The place had excellent settings and conditions for her to indulge in her fantasies.  She knew she had to come back and do her thing!

Several weeks later, here she was cresting the hill and looking down on her destination, her heart pounding and palms sweaty!

She made her made down to the house and carefully checked the area to see if anyone was around.  It was abandoned and the air was still.  She stood and listened for several minutes and heard nothing other that the natural sounds of the fields and forest.  She checked the little trap she had set up in the doorway to see if anyone had disturbed it.  It remained intact, as she had remembered it, meaning no one had been here since she had first visited.  That realization relaxed her and at the same time excited her, because she knew she was going to be able to play the game!

She slipped into the building and looked around. The photo opportunities were endless.  She debated whether to go upstairs or do it down here and decided she would do both, starting upstairs.  Trembling slightly with excitement she made her way up the rickety stairs and picked a front corner room.  It had plenty of light and gave her a view of the track into the site from the paved road.

She slipped out of the pack and set it down in the corner and stood the tripod up and opening it to its full height. 

She dumped out the pack contents and sorted through the pile, setting like material with like material.  She found the spare camera batteries, the extra photo card and the camera remote and set them on the windowsill.   

Working quickly now and eager to start she looked around the room for the most interesting angle.  Settling on a shot that took in the corner of the room and a tired mattress, she set up the camera on the tripod and programmed it for the room lighting and remote operation.

Sometimes she thought she did too much schoolgirl, but she loved the look and the suggestion of innocence and vulnerability that it projected.  Her outfit today was a pleated plaid skirt, black and green, that barely reached mid-thigh, which kind of ruled out innocence, heavy cotton black knee socks, a white round-collared blouse with a string tie and worn, faded black high-top Converse sneakers.  Since it was a cool morning she had covered it all with a long dark gray cardigan sweater for the walk in.  She wore her shoulder-length honey blonde hair in a full fluffy ponytail.  The final piece of her outfit was a pair of heavy, dark and round-framed glasses that just touched the fringe of her square-cut bangs and which were actually hers

Time to play!  She slipped into the school-skipping girl persona and took some shots as she “explored” the room.  She had brought a second camera as a prop and backup and carried it with her as if she were making a photographic record of the house.  She conjured up a sound from outside and tried to look alarmed as she peered out a window, snapping away all the while using the real camera’s hand-held remote.  Most times these “candid” shots simply sucked, but she only needed a few and the role-playing pushed her further into the fun of it all.

She tried a few “scared” pics with her hand to her mouth, her hands raised and the like.  Most of these never looked right either, but she did it anyway, because it helped her feel the fear she imagined would arise if she had been caught alone out here.

Now she was eager to get to the main event!

She had done this many times so she had the logistics down.  She placed the camera remote on the windowsill near her.  The pair of EMT scissors she always brought with her in case of emergencies went on the floor within reach if she should need them.  She checked some of the earlier photos for exposure, etc and was satisfied (and there was always Photoshop to correct any mistakes).  She gathered the coils of rope and placed them near the corner, but out of the camera range. 

First was the gag.  In these circumstances she was going to fake it.  Normally she would force the largest gag possible into her mouth, but alone out here she was not going to risk choking.  She slipped a wide, black hair band over her head, flipping her ponytail out of the way.  The black band rested at the hairline on her neck and nestled in her mouth.  Then she inserted a red sponge ball between her lips and adjusted it in place.  The hair band looked like a strap although it was behind the ball and the ball was large enough to fill her mouth convincingly, but she could simply push the ball out of her mouth with her tongue if need be.   

Marty imagined that the “kidnappers” had just grabbed her and her ordeal was about to begin.  She struck a pose in the corner and clicked the remote, quickly placing her arms behind her before the camera took the shot.  She also viewed that picture and felt her excitement build as she stared at her gagged image poised at the beginning of another journey into tight self-bondage.

She sat on the floor and tied her ankles, six loops around just above her chucks and then a double-looped cinch between.   She repeated a similar tie above her knees.  Neatness always counted to her, so she made sure that the loops were parallel with no spaces between.  She struggled to her feet and stood in the corner as she popped several shots in different poses.

After some deliberation, she decided on a crotch rope because after all, what was bondage without an orgasm or two.  The rope bunched her skirt up exposing more thigh.  She nestled the rope in just the right spot and snugged it up.  She focused briefly on the sensations it caused, but then got back to business.  There would be plenty of time to enjoy that later!

Marty had perfected a technique that allowed her to tie her elbows together behind her back.  Anyone looking at it closely would see that they weren’t really and securely tied, but it felt that way to Marty and that was what counted.  It also looked convincing in the photos she took.  Being elbow-tied was the best!  She was naturally flexible and could touch her elbows together without rope, but the sensation of having them bound together was intoxicating to Marty.  It was the epitome of bondage to her!  She went through the well-practiced routine and tied the tag ends off around her waist.  From the tension she felt in her chest, she had done a good job.  She could feel skin-to-skin on her forearms down their whole length, which would make it more difficult to cinch her wrists, but worth the trouble!  More pics with the remote, front and back views!

Finally, it was time to bind her hands.  She had wavered about this, back and forth, but decided that she wanted this to be secure.  The cliché that it wasn’t really bondage until you wanted to get out resonated with her.  In this setting and on this day, she wanted, needed, the feeling of complete helplessness.  She knew the dangers and had heard the horror stories of self-bondage gone bad, but she had done this many times and had the scissors available and even had a second set in the pack.

She wound the rope around her wrists removing the slack as she went, which was complicated since she still had the remote in her hand.  As with her elbows, practice made for perfection.  She finished off the wrist rope with a half hitch around one wrist.  Before cinching her wrists, she clicked off a few shots.  If she took too much time between shots, the camera remote setting shut down and would only restart if she pushed the shutter.  In her present condition that would not do, so she wasted a few shots regularly to keep the camera on.

Marty set the remote carefully on the sill.  On the same sill, she had put a few plastic cable ties and managed to grab one without knocking it or the remote to the floor. She managed to slip the end of the tie between her wrists and working by feel, inserted the skinny end into the fastener end.  Taking a deep breath before proceeding and putting aside any qualms she might have, she pulled the free end and listened to the clicking as the cable tightened down on the coils of rope.  It was such a powerful feeling to place herself into inescapable bondage that she felt weak in her knees as she did it.  She left just enough slack in the cable so that she could insert the scissors, but it was tight enough and she knew that as she struggled the rope coils would expand and take up some, but not all of the slack.  There would still be room for the scissors, but the wrists bounds would be fairly tight and secure.
 
She bent at the knees and picked up the remote and, lost in the reverie of bondage, shot multiple pictures of herself twisting and pulling in her ropes.

After a while she felt herself slipping into the zone as she called it where the bondage and her imagination took over.  She dropped the remote and concentrated on the sensations the tight ropes created.  She worked the gag around in her mouth making sigh-like groans into the soggy sponge.  Saliva cascaded from her lower lip stringing out and down onto her blouse. 

In her mind she was well and truly caught in a situation of danger and intrigue.  The crotch rope worked its magic on her sex and she rotated her thighs as much as the knee ropes allowed against the intruding strands.  She felt the first signs of an orgasm welling inside her and went with it, encouraging the inevitable.  When it came, it shook her and she leaned back into the corner for support as the wave of pleasure swept over her.  Breathing hard through her nose, her skin slick with perspiration as the day had warmed; she floated through a gauzy haze of aroused well-being.  After several minutes she knew she should move and get out of this and into the next thing she wanted to do, but she still felt too comfortable in the embrace of the ropes.  Despite her disinterest in involving others in her games, she wondered for the umpteenth time what it would be like to be really tied up by someone.  It was a subject that she didn’t dwell upon; it usually intruded on her thoughts when she was like this, bound by her own hand but not really bound.  She pushed that thought aside and slid down the wall, reaching for the scissors.

Just then she heard the sound of an approaching engine.  It sounded like one of those ATVs she saw here and there, but what ever it was didn’t matter.  That someone was near and apparently coming this way was of paramount importance.  She couldn’t, wouldn’t be found like this!

The motor noise stopped right outside the building!  Marty knew she had but a few minutes, if that, to get free.  Near panic now, she struggled, not caring if she made noise.  She couldn’t get the scissors under the damn cable cinch between her wrists.  This had happened before and with patience she had been able to finally cut it, but today there was no time for patience!  She frantically worked with the scissors. 

No luck though and then it was too late! 

The stairs creaked and protested as someone ascended.  Marty struggled on, all fumble-fingers and frightened, and then dropped the scissors as a shadow filled the doorway.

A figure in jeans and a shirt entered the room, the face obscured by backlighting.  Marty intuited from the shape that it was a woman, but she wasn’t sure.  She was somewhat relieved to see that and her fear level dropped a bit!  At least it wasn’t a man… or several men.  She tried to listen for other footsteps as the person stood just inside the door studying her.  She heard no other voices or sounds, save the birds and the wind in the trees.  In an instant, she began to formulate a story of being kidnapped and brought here by …by a man, a robber, who had just left when he heard or saw this person coming.  She had not much time to work out the details, but figured it might work. 

The person still hadn’t said anything.  Marty filled the silence with loud pleading noises around her gag, which were intended to indicate her relief at being found.  The fake gag was a problem, but she could lie around that!  Marty tried to communicate her distress, forcing the story out around the ball.  The woman listened from her post near the door as Marty related her garbled story, but she made no move to untie Marty.  Marty twisted around as best she could and tried to push the scissors towards the woman.

The person came forward and knelt down in front of her.  Marty drew back in surprise and horror!  The woman, and Marty she was glad to confirm that it was a woman, wore a mask, a Sarah Plain mask to be precise!  Marty knew that the mask was not a good sign!  Masks were for people up to no good!  She was close to losing control of her senses and shrunk back into the corner!

“Well, what have we here?”  The woman’s voice was whispery and altered by the mask.  A split second of recognition, a sense that she knew this person, flitted through Marty’s consciousness, but was then lost in the mental turmoil she was experiencing.

The woman picked up the scissors and looked at them for a second and then tossed them across the room.  Marty’s heart plummeted and fear and adrenalin cascaded through her! 

The woman reached toward her and Marty tried to shrink further back but couldn’t avoid the fingers that brushed her still-stiffened nipples through the fabric of the blouse.   The woman slid her hand into the vee between Marty’s legs and felt the wetness there.  Marty blushed red and the woman didn’t speak, just nodded her head.

With a quick movement, the woman rose and dragged Marty to her feet.  She was taller than Marty, maybe by 3 or 4 inches and judging by what she just did, she was strong.  She turned Marty and pushed her into the corner face first.  Another tickle of recognition swept through Marty.  She thought she knew the scent of this person, but what the woman was doing over rid any rational thought.  Marty heard and felt the cable tie tighten between her wrists.  She reacted too late to stop it, as if she could have stopped it!  Marty felt her captor working with the knot of the elbow rope that was wrapped around her waist.  She pulled the rope free and forced both strands between Marty’s elbows pulling them tightly into a proper cinch.  She quickly threaded the ropes through Marty’s armpit, around the back of her neck and through the other pit.  Marty felt her slip the end between her elbows and then tension as she slipped it under the neck rope and pulled the whole thing tight.  In spite of the situation, Marty felt a little twinge of something besides fear as she realized she was really and completely tied for the very first time!

Marty tried to pull her arms away as the woman tightened a second cable tie between her wrists and then a third.  There was no way Marty was getting loose now and although she understood it intellectually, that knowledge didn’t stop her from struggling.  As she pulled and tugged at her ropes, she immediately felt the difference between tying yourself up and being tied up.  Everything was tighter and there was no slack, no knots within reach, and no easy escape!

She turned Marty to face outward from the corner and stared at her and then looked around the room as if deciding her next move.  Marty stared back at the weird mask and the eyes almost hidden by the eyeholes searching for some sense of the woman’s identity and sanity.

Apparently settling on a course of action, she took hold of Marty’s shoulders and with a strong grip and pulled her forward forcing Marty to hop on bound legs.  She directed Marty towards a rickety-looking chair leaning against the wall.  She righted the chair and plopped Marty down on the seat.  The chair complained, but held together and actually seemed to be reasonably sturdy despite its neglected existence.

Telling Marty to stay put, the woman collected some of the unused coils of rope from the pile in the corner.   Marty stayed put, her mind flashing over possible scenarios and end games.  Oddly, her fear had abated.  Maybe it was the woman’s demeanor or that she thought she knew her… in fact she was now pretty sure they had met, but her befuddled brain was overwhelmed and she couldn’t remember where or when.

The woman returned and knelt behind the chair and began the process of securing Marty to the chair.  In short order, Marty was stringently tied to the chair, which was proving to be very sturdy.  Marty found herself unable to do much but squirm her butt around on the seat as the woman had stretched her arms over the back and pulled them down and tight to the horizontal bar between the rear chair legs.  She did a similar thing with Marty’s ankles, pulling them back and off the floor.  Additional tight loops held her chest and hips to the chair and in an act of particular stringency, the woman had wound a cord through Marty’s hair and tied it off in back so that her chin was tilted up.  She had to strain to see by rolling her eyes down and to the side to look around the room, otherwise her view was of the spider-infested ceiling.  The woman appeared in her vision and seemed to be studying Marty’s makeshift gag. 

“Hmmm!” she whispered in her eerie voice, “Clever fake, but that won’t do!  No, no, no!” 

Marty heard the familiar sound of duct tape being pulled off a roll she had brought with her just in case.  The woman removed Marty’s glasses and stretched the first piece of tape over the ball in her mouth running it from ear to ear.  That strip was followed by several more until Marty’s lower face was totally covered with tape.  The woman ran her hands over Marty’s cheeks to smooth and adhere the tape as tightly as possible.

A final piece was pressed over Marty’s eyes shutting off sight.

Marty heard the woman sigh and realized that the sound that followed was the woman removing the mask. 

Still in a whispered voice, clearer without the mask but still unidentifiable, the woman said,  “God, that mask was giving me hives!  I don’t want you to see my face, Bettied… at least not yet.  I think I’ll take some photos of you like this… you look delicious!”

Bettied?  How does she know that name?  Oh my god!  After a lot of dithering and misgivings, Marty had started a flykr account and had begun to post her bondage photos.  In a short time she had gathered quite a following of contacts and ‘friends’.  She had been careful to always disguise her face with gags, blindfolds, photoshop, etc., and had used a “screen” name; Bettied, a play on ‘be tied’ and Bettie Page.  Somehow this person had made the connection between the web pics and her!

As if she were clairvoyant, the woman said, “You’ve got it!  We’ve corresponded on flykr.  I’m ‘bondagebitch’?  I’m a regular on your page and leave a lot of sweaty comments about what I’d do to you given the chance… and now here we are!”

How did she do it?  Marty was mortified that she was so transparent that she could be this easily identified.  She was totally sorry now she had made the decision to post anything!

But her captor wasn’t through yet with surprises!

“Or maybe I should call you Martha?  Which do you prefer?”

Marty almost fainted!  She froze in place, barely breathing, no coherent thoughts working in her paralyzed brain.

The woman continued in her whispery voice.

“You probably think you recognize my voice.  And you should!  We have met!  It was just dumb luck that I made the connection between your photos and you and found out that we actually knew each other.  Oh, you were careful to hide your face and where they were taken and all that, but not always and since I was very interested in you, I studied every photo and poured over every e-mail you sent.  I’ve got to tell you I almost fell off my chair when I figured out that you lived nearby!  And that I actually knew you!  I couldn’t believe it!  I mean we’re not bosom buddies, so to speak, but we’ve been in the same room together and we’ve spoken!”” 

Marty was still dumbstruck!  Her deepest darkest secret revealed!  Why did I ever post those pictures, damn it!

Again as if she could read minds, the woman said, “Don’t beat yourself up about being found out!  It was just because I was wicked obsessed with you that I was able to figure it out.  As I said, just dumb luck!”

Marty was beginning to accept that she had screwed up and that the fault was hers and was moving on to figuring ways to deal with this. 

“Please understand that I would never harm you!  I want us to be friends!  I know; I know!  It’s a strange way to make a friend!”

You got that right, Marty thought, but she found her fear continuing to abate little by little as the woman talked.  Marty squirmed a bit in her ropes and had to admit that whoever she was, she knew how to tie people up.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here!  Together!  I’ve been obsessed with you ever since I saw your first posts!  I mean obsessed in a nice way, not like a stalker or something!”  Then she laughed, a nice laugh with a sweet tone to it.

“Right!  A nice stalker!  With you all tied up!”

Marty snorted a laugh in spite of her situation.  At least she has a sense of humor, she thought.  And she began to assess her situation.  A stranger who apparently had a “thing” for her had caught her in self-bondage. She knew this stranger, although not well.  She knew it was useless to try to figure out who this person was.  She wouldn’t know unless the woman told her or until she saw her.  Marty knew she should be frightened and apprehensive about the situation, but she felt herself drifting into a kind of acceptance… and… weirdest of all, she actually was beginning to get into it!  After years of self bondage she was finally tied up by someone else and all her protestations about not wanting or needing to experience “real” bondage were becoming just a lot of talk.  Each time she moved any part of her body she was reminded that she was totally and irreversible this person’s captive!  She was helpless and had lost all control!  Despite a persistent tickle of fear, she was…enjoying it?  Was that true?  This was nuts!

The woman surprised Marty by telling her that if she, Marty, ever felt uncomfortable or pain or numbness she should snap her fingers twice and she would release her and she had Marty try it.  It was a strange thing to offer since Marty was a reluctant participant in this affair.  Marty was tempted to do it again to see if the woman would let her go, but she was getting into the situation and filed that away for when she thought she really needed it. 

After this one-sided discussion, a major shift in Marty’s perspective occurred.   She realized that she was sliding down a slippery slope and was beginning to want this woman to do this… and more to her.

She began to struggle, testing the bondage, grunting and moaning with the effort; just like all the gals she had watched on all those videos.  The chair creaked and groaned as she pushed herself.  There was little slack and opportunity to move afforded her and all she did was work up a good sweat and a lot of heat between her legs.  She was surprised to find how aroused she felt.  When she tied herself she got excited, but this was shaping up to be even more of a rush!  The circumstances of how it came about didn’t matter anymore.  The identity of the woman didn’t matter.  The loss of control over her being didn’t matter.  What was paramount in Marty’s mind now were the ropes and their hold on her!

She could sense the woman moving about and the click and beep of the camera, but she was largely oblivious to her.  She finally stopped her struggles, panting and soaked in perspiration, teetering on the edge of an orgasm she didn’t want to happen in front of this stranger.  The woman gently touched her shoulder.

“You really got into that, didn’t you, Martha?”  Marty surprised herself by nodding her head as if she was an equal partner in this game.

“It’s OK, Martha, let it go!”  And the woman reached between Marty’s legs and touched her just right.  Marty let it go in a spasm of tortuous pleasure.  She arched against the ropes and moaned her way through it, slumping with a shuddering sigh into the chair.

That was when she knew she was hooked!  The conversion from kidnapped victim to co-conspirator was complete! 

Over the next several hours, the woman took Marty through bondage positions and orgasms like she had never experienced before.  She was exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.  Just when she thought she was done and couldn’t continue, she was bound and touched in a certain way that set her off again and she reacted with intensity.

Finally, well into the afternoon, Marty stood in only her socks outside the moldering farmhouse bound tightly at the ankles, waist and neck with the rough bark of a small tree scratching the insides of her upper arms and her forearms, the original gag and blindfold still in place.  The woman ran her hands along Marty’s side from her breasts to her calves, squeezing and kissing her at points that must have had some attraction to her.  The woman murmured to herself as she made her way up and down Marty’s body and Marty felt like some kind of sculpture piece being admired.  She loved it, especially when the woman touched or kissed Marty’s hot spots. 

The woman pulled Marty away from the tree by cupping her butt cheeks and rubbed her crotch against Marty’s.  She then arranged a crotch rope around Marty’s waist and between her legs with a buzzing little vibrator wound into the rope.  Marty’s nipples were clipped with something…clothespins maybe, that sent shivers through Marty torturing and arousing her with the sensation.  The clips and the vibrator energized Marty and she began to squirm and murmur to herself!  The rough bark of the tree chafed her skin as she moved against the ropes.  The woman began to lightly switch Marty’s thighs and abdomen with something, probably a thin branch.  It was all too much and Marty was coming again, silently shuddering her way through it!  Her entire body had become a sexual organ!  It seemed everywhere she was touched or a rope cut into her flesh was sensitized and sexualized.

It was wonderful and frightening in equal parts.  She had no idea she could feel so intensely and be so out-of-control.  She feared the power this woman had over her and craved having the woman exercise that power!

Marty sagged in her ropes after this latest orgasm and reluctantly snapped her fingers.  It was all she could do to muster the strength to do it, but she honestly felt she could not survive another stimulation.  The woman reacted immediately and began to untie her, assisting Marty to a sitting position on the ground against the tree.  She removed the gag, but left the blindfold in place, and after cutting off the cable ties, re-bound Marty’s hands in front of her.

Marty’s jaw ached and itched where the tape had adhered.  She raised her hands and rubbed her cheeks, but didn’t even try to remove the blindfold tape.  She worked her mouth about and tried to speak, but her voice wouldn’t work.  The woman guided a bottle of water to Marty’s lips and she drank gratefully, swishing the water around in her mouth before swallowing.  Marty sat cross-legged in the mid-afternoon sun, her back against the tree, a languid feeling engulfing her.

The woman kissed her and Marty responded and kissed back.  It seemed to Marty a very normal reaction.  Marty heard the zip of the woman’s jeans and the rustle of the fabric as she shucked her pants.  The woman guided Marty to a prone position on the ground and knelt over her face lowering her sex to within tongue distance of Marty’s mouth.  Marty knew what was expected of her and did it with skill and intensity.  She managed to get her bound hands into the woman’s crotch and used her fingers and mouth on her.  The woman sighed her way through an orgasm and squirted onto Marty’s face.  She moved off Marty, gently wiped her face and kissed her deeply, gathering her into her arms and holding her close.

This woman, even though Marty had yet to lay eyes on her, now owned her, was her soul mate, was her lover!  And even though Marty was too wrung out and spent to articulate it, she knew instinctively this was just the start of a journey that would take her places she had only imagined before.  She welcomed the opportunity!

The woman helped her to her feet and hugged her.  Marty cuddled close to her new mistress.  She rested her head on the woman’s shoulder and they stood for several minutes that way.  Then the woman disengaged and Marty heard her getting dressed as Marty stood quietly waiting.  Neither of them spoke nor felt the need to.  The woman surprised Marty by picking her up and carrying her in her arms.  It was a gesture that drove home the submissive position Marty was in and also was a startlingly tender thing to do.  Marty felt her worn down libido perk up.  God, what is going on?  I can’t get enough of this! 

Marty was deposited on what she assumed was the seat of the ATV.  The woman quickly bound Marty in place with efficiently placed and snug ropes.  The woman re-gagged Marty with Marty’s ball gag and told her she was going to collect Marty’s clothes and other stuff.  Marty sat in the late afternoon sun, thinking of nothing and feeling the warmth of the sun and the gentle currents of the wind and, above all, the rope.  She was at peace and so relaxed!

Her gear was dumped into the back of the machine and the woman started it and began to drive away.  Marty hadn’t even given a thought as to where they were going!

The machine bumped along for a while, its exhaust loud and popping, and then they stopped.

“We’re back at the cars, Martha!  I’m going to untie most of the rope so that you can get the rest off… after I’m gone!”

A spike of concern shot through her.  What if I can’t get loose?

“No worries, sweetie!  You’ll be able to get out, but not before I’m gone.  I was going to un-blindfold you and let you see me, but… I like it this way, at least for now!  Now you just stay here while I load the machine.”

The woman lifted Marty out of the seat and placed her on the ground.  She arranged Marty on her belly and pulled Marty’s arms back over her head and secured them to Marty’s drawn-up ankles.  Marty panicked, thinking this was how she would be left and began to struggle.  The woman cupped Marty’s chin. 

“Don’t worry!  I won’t leave you like this!  I didn’t want to leave you loose while I loaded up!  And… I just wanted to tie you up again!”

Marty lay in the dirt and dust of the road and listened as the woman moved and loaded the RTV onto a trailer or pickup.   So she wouldn’t get to know who this was?  That was disturbing!  She wanted to know and she wanted to develop the relationship on more normal grounds.  She knew that was crazy, but she realized that they had made a strong physical connection that couldn’t be denied and would not quickly fade away! 

But continuing the mystery was also intriguing.  Marty had no fear that this woman would expose her or blackmail her.  She had no proof of that; she just knew it!  Maybe it was naïve of her, but she was in no position to control anything!  She listened to the clang of metal and the noise of the engine as the woman loaded it onto a truck or trailer.  Chain rattled and latched clicked and finally the woman was back at her side.  Marty heard the purr of an engine in the background.

“So, I hate to end this, but I’ve got to… for now anyway!  You’ll be hearing from me soon, Martha!  Very soon!”  She was untying most of Marty’s bondage as she talked.  She undid the wrist ropes and pulled Marty’s wrists around behind her and tied them loosely.  “You should be able to pull out of this in a minute or two.  It’s been a blast, Marty!  We’ll do it again!”  And then she was gone, the roar of the truck fading into the distance.

Not wanting to be stuck, Marty had begun to work her way out of the ropes as soon as the woman rose and walked away and she was soon free.  She unbuckled the gag and tossed it aside and carefully worked the tape off her eyes.  She managed to get it off and keep her eyebrows intact.  Blinking in the fading light, she realized she was naked except for her socks, which were spotted with leaves and dust and pooled around her ankles.  Her skin was lightly striped with switch marks and there were rope marks everywhere from the bonds.   She found her clothes where the woman had carefully stacked them and slipped back into them.  She pulled her socks up and dusted them off and tied the laces on her shoes. 

In her head, she flashed back and became the schoolgirl again, coming down from a real adventure!  She hugged herself and allowed the memory of the day to flood her mind!  It was so unbelievable and yet the marks on her and her vivid recollections verified that it really had happened!  She realized that she was happy and content and relaxed and exhilarated all at once.

She knew that she had to meet the woman that had brought her to this place.  It was out of her control when that happened, but she didn’t mind.  The thought that this woman knew what she needed and craved and could create such feelings in her filled her with happiness and desire.

She realized that the woman had placed her in a situation where she would want to see the woman again… need to see her, but couldn’t until the woman wanted it to happen.  It was a kind of rope-free bondage that Marty knew would frustrate and excite her and drive her wild with expectation!

Marty didn’t care where or when this happened, but sooner would be better, as long as she was bound and touched by this mysterious woman!

She gathered her things and carried them to her car.  Her keys were in the backpack as were her camera and photo cards and everything; at least the woman wasn’t a thief!  Marty beeped the doors open and sank into the seat suddenly aware that she was sore everywhere.  It was a few minutes before she could rouse herself and start the car.  She wasn’t sure how she got home; she couldn’t recall anything about the ride!  

Marty slipped into her building and apartment unseen and collapsed on the bed, falling into a deep sleep.  She awoke about two hours later feeling a little more alive.  After showering and changing into some sweats, she unpacked her gear and decided to have a look at the pictures she and the woman had taken. 

First she signed onto flykr.  She had several messages, but the one that drew her shaky hands to it was from ‘bondagebitch’.  She clicked it open and read  ‘Hi Martha!  Go to my page and take a look!’.  She clicked through to bondagebitch’s page and there by the dozens were the bound and gagged images of her from earlier in the day.  Marty began to view each one, marveling at the stringency of the bondage.  She began to relive the day and soon she was aroused and touching herself.  She returned to the ones she liked the best, although all of them were far and away better than any of the self-bondage pictures she had previously posted.  She masturbated to her images and for the umpteenth time of the day orgasm-ed.

She went back to the e-mail and hit reply.

‘Whoever you are, can we do it again? Soon!  Please!’

25.06.10