Long Time Bound 7

Part 7

And to think that it all started out like a normal Saturday morning self-bondage session. I’m sure many of you know the drill: Tie yourself up, insert gag and seal lips with duct tape, apply a blindfold, handcuff yourself behind your back, with the key placed strategically so that it will be difficult – but not impossible - to reach, then revel and luxuriate in your perceived state of complete helplessness for an hour or three. That was the plan at any rate. And at first, everything seemed to be going well.

Having dressed in my favoured bondage attire of silky smooth tights, over which I’d slipped into a black, extremely tight spandex cat-suit that fitted like a glove, I was ready to commence on a process that would leave me all but incapable of movement. Firstly tying rope securely around my ankles, I quickly followed this by winding more lengths of the soft cord at various points around my legs, before cinching and securing these in identical fashion. Once completed, my legs were tied in four places, with the aforementioned ankle rope supplemented by similar bonds just below and just above my knees, with the final one encircling my thighs; the shimmering black of my outfit being offset by the whiteness of the ropes. For a minute or so, I pulled and struggled against the bonds to test their efficiency. As I’d hoped, they offered no leeway and remained firmly in place.

Sitting myself on an upright chair, I used two long pieces of rope to create a body harness, which also incorporated the wooden structure within its folds, so that my upper torso was lashed tightly to this sturdy piece of furniture. Another length of rope that circled both my thighs and the chair’s seat, ensured that standing up was no longer an option.

Stuffing an already prepared rolled up pair of tights into my mouth, I ensured that this efficient sound-muffling gag couldn’t be spat out by the application of several circuits of duct tape, which I wound around my face and lower head; making certain that each layer was pressed down to bond with either my flesh or the stratum of tape beneath. I was now almost ready to complete my self induced captivity, although there was still one further part of my anatomy that needed to be taken out of service before I shackled my hands in bracelets of steel. Never one to make life easy for myself in instances like this, I placed the handcuffs on my lap. Looking across the room, I took a mental snapshot of where the table was in relation to my position, as well as noting precisely where the key to the handcuffs lay on the wooden surface, before placing a thick scarf across my eyes, winding this around my head several times and knotting the ends firmly together at the back. This blindfold allowed not a sliver of light to infiltrate through to my blacked-out eyes, but just for good measure, I placed my black spandex hood over my head and brought it down to my neck.

Picking up the handcuffs from their resting place, I quickly thrust my right wrist into the first cuff, and listened as the ratchets swiftly clicked shut and the steel contracted against my skin. Placing my hands around the back of the chair, I fumbled around for a few seconds, as I tried to place my left arm into the bracelet and close the circle. After a few failed attempts, everything suddenly clicked into place – quite literally – and I found that I could no longer slip my hands out of the now constricted circles. Or to put it another way, I was trapped.

But for now, a trivial thing like this was of no consequence to me. Eventually, I would have to manoeuvre the chair across the room courtesy of my bound feet, in complete blindness, until I reached the edge of the table, then locate the key with my manacled hands, before releasing my wrists from the unbreakable shackles. How far was the table from where I sat? Probably between ten and twelve feet, at a guess. But with my eyes useless, and my whole body lashed to a chair, that journey could take some time. What If I miscalculated my route and became disorientated? Then the task of getting myself free would take much longer. What if, when I got to the table, I couldn’t reach the key? Or if I managed to grab the key, but then dropped it on the floor, from where it would be almost impossible to retrieve? Whilst these were theoretical stumbling blocks that could, if circumstances conspired against me, prove insurmountable barriers in my quest to regain my freedom, the uncertainty of the situation, whilst slightly frightening, I also found rather invigorating. What good was bondage if you knew for certain that you could escape? There had to be an element of risk involved, and the greater the danger, the more enjoyable the whole experience became as far as I was concerned.

But all that was a long way in the future. For now, my intention was to simply chill out, maybe struggle for a while to reconfirm my helpless status, and generally enjoy myself.

****

After what must have been half an hour, as I relaxed after a period of fierce but ineffectual mock struggle, I heard the sound of someone knocking at my front door. The rapping sound was repeated again around thirty seconds later, then nothing. Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t have got up to see who it was, but I paid it no heed at the time; probably a double glazing salesman hawking for business, or something of the kind, I told myself. Little did I know that this innocent knock at the door would shape events for the rest of the day.

Another half an hour or so must have elapsed before my property was visited a second time, only on this occasion the caller was known to me, and made me aware of their presence almost immediately. This time it was the back door that I heard, and the sound quite clearly indicated that my visitor was taking the liberty of entering without invitation. I cursed under my breath. I was sure I’d locked that door, but obviously not.

“Hi Steve, are you in? The postman left a parcel here for you, as he said there was nobody at home, but I noticed your car outside, so I thought I’d better make sure you were alright. Hope you don’t mind...”

The voice was clearly that of my next door neighbour, Eleanor - or Ellie as she’s usually known -and the sudden pause in her monologue occurred just as I heard the living room door opening. The silence didn’t last long however.

“What the...!?”

These two words were uttered with an inflection of complete surprise, and this sentence, like the one before it, also then tapered off into nothing, just as the sound of footsteps hurried across the carpet to where I sat.

Everything happened too quickly for me to even contemplate the embarrassment that I would surely be feeling in a few minutes time. But for now, it was obvious that Ellie assumed I’d been the victim of a break-in and that the burglars had made certain that I didn’t raise the alarm too soon. I felt a pair of hands gently but swiftly pull the spandex hood from my head, and seconds later, the pressure across my eyes eased as the blindfold fell away. I blinked in the unfamiliar light at the sight of my strikingly attractive neighbour.

In truth, I’d always fancied Ellie, but although we’d speak whenever we saw each other over the garden fence, to date that was as far as things had progressed. But as my sight gradually returned to normal, I witnessed the slim blonde in her tight, figure hugging jeans and equally form fitting t-shirt, with a mixture of excitement and humiliation.

“Who did this to you? How long have you been here like this?”

She bent down in order to start peeling the tape from my mouth, then abruptly stopped, as if she suddenly cottoned on that everything wasn’t quite as it had at first seemed.

She looked me up and down, obviously having noticed my unusual attire. Then she scanned the room. Everything was in place, confirming that the house hadn’t been trashed, and laying to rest any lingering suspicions of a break-in. Finally, her eyes caught sight of the open holdall bag on the floor beside me. Clearly visible were the spare lengths of rope which had been surplus to my requirements today, whilst sitting on top was the large spool of duct tape that I’d used to gag myself.

Ellie’s shock turned briefly to bewilderment. But all of a sudden, a mischievous grin spread across her face. She knelt down on the floor beside me and looked into my eyes.

“It’s funny isn’t it, that you live only a few yards away from someone for years, but then you suddenly find out that you don’t actually know them at all. Sorry that I barged in and caught you in the act. You look as if you’re really enjoying yourself there.”

She peered around the back of the chair and grabbed the steel handcuffs that adorned my wrists. She quickly worked out that these were real, escape-proof cuffs, and not fakes with a secret release button.

“So how were you planning to get out of this then? I take it there must be a key somewhere close at hand?”

I tried to answer her question vocally, but my words were smothered by the cavity filling ball of material in my mouth and the tape sealant. Instead, I conveyed my message by gesturing with a nod of my head in the direction of the table. Ellie stood up and sauntered casually across the room, her slender figure and pert butt in their figure hugging attire causing a stirring of excitement to surge through me. She picked up the key and began the reverse journey back to where I sat in my helplessness.

“Is this what you need in order to get free?”

She held the key close in front of my eyes. The question was rhetorical.

“I’m not sure exactly how you were going to retrieve this, what with the blindfold and hood...”

She smiled a devious smile, and I could tell straight away that she was hatching a plan.

“...but however you planned to do it, your task just got a lot more difficult. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that it’s now impossible.”

I could do nothing but watch as the key to my freedom was slipped into the rear pocket of her tight jeans.

“How do you rate your chances of getting your hands on the key now?”

She wiggled her arse provocatively in front of me and giggled.

But if this was in any way intended to frighten me, it actually achieved the exact opposite. For I found the fact that I was now totally under Ellie’s control a huge turn on. And things were about to get even more intense.

Placing her hand into my bag of ropes, Ellie began to unwind the first one that she came to. With the cord now trailing across the floor, she quickly found the mid-point and, with a dexterity that suggested that she was no stranger to such things, began to encircle this around my already securely bound legs. I must have looked perturbed by her actions, or perhaps some unintended sound issued through my gag as she went about her work. She looked up at me from her kneeling position close to my feet.

“Well it seems a shame to waste all this extra rope that’s just sitting here begging to be used, wouldn’t you agree?”

There were, at a guess, probably between ten and twelve unused pieces of rope in my stash, but this state of affairs was soon rectified by the now enthusiastic Ellie, who went about the task of placing my limbs and body in ever more debilitating bondage with great gusto. Most of my newly acquired restraints merely supplemented those already in place, although two are noteworthy of mention for their overall restraining qualities. The first was a short length of rope that Ellie initially wound around the cinch in my ankle bond and then left momentarily trailing on the carpet. Moving behind me, I suddenly felt my feet lifting off the floor and being pulled backwards and upwards beneath the seat of the chair. Winding this ligature around the wooden struts on the chair’s back, the remainder of the rope then returned to my ankles where it was tied off. Trying to place my feet back on the floor was now out of the question, I quickly discovered, as even my stretching toes couldn’t make contact with the carpet any longer.

The second bond of significance was a length of rope that Ellie wrapped several times around the connecting chain of the handcuffs, before incorporating the stout wooden struts within the last few passes of the binding, so that I was no longer capable of lifting my hands away from the back of the chair. This rope was then brought around to my stomach and securely knotted.

****

One thing that I discovered that morning, is that there is a world of difference between binding yourself and having someone else tie you up – especially if that person is a hot young female. As Ellie toiled away at making sure I remained as stationary as possible, her fingers brushed and kneaded the soft spandex of my costume time and time again, giving me goose-pumps of pleasure all over. This sensation was never more acute than when she was working on my upper legs. The tightness of my original, self secured bonds meant that the gap between my limbs was extremely tight.

Therefore, as the need arose to cinch the latest additions, Ellie’s fingers were forced to delve deeply into this almost nonexistent gap between my thighs to bring the ends back to the starting point. As her fingers massaged my spandex clad limbs, my excitement reached fever pitch, and my erection strained forcefully against the spandex. It was clear too, that Ellie was aware of this, as her hands lingered there for several seconds, provocatively working me up into a frenzy. But just as I was beginning to think that I couldn’t contain my excitement, her teasing fingers relented, leaving me in a state of unbelievable frustration. Ellie laughed playfully.

“You seem to be really getting worked up there Steve. I think maybe it’s time to leave you to cool down for a while.”

Looking down at my bag, I could see that all the neatly stored ropes that had been there only minutes ago had now disappeared, having been commandeered to imprison me securely within their expertly bound coils. All that remained were my second set of handcuffs and the reel of tape. For a brief moment, Ellie seemed to toy with the idea of encumbering me in the unused manacles as well, but then thought better of it. It would be later that day before I discovered her reasons for this change of heart. Some of the tape, on the other hand, was soon put to good use.

Placing herself behind me, where I couldn’t see what she was doing, I heard the end of the tape being ripped from the spool, and a second later I became aware of the sensation of something being wrapped around my fingers. For what must have been at least ten circuits, the tape kept making its way around my hands, as it gradually worked up towards my wrists; swathing them in a strongly bonding single mitten that offered no chance of breaking free.

“There, that should put paid to any thoughts you might have had of tampering with any of your other bonds.”

Ellie bent down and kissed me on my tape covered lips.

“I’ll leave you to deal with this situation for a while. I’m sure you’ll be happy with the quality of my rope-work. If not, let me know when I come back and I’ll see what I can do to rectify matters.”

She started towards the door, then noticed the hood and blindfold lying abandoned on the carpet.

“Oops, nearly forgot these.”

She picked the two discarded items up and came back towards me, licking her lips and smiling with glee as she approached. But that was the last thing I saw as the scarf was swiftly wrapped around my head and tightly knotted, before the spandex head-sheath was once more pulled down to my neck.

“There you go, just as I found you. Have fun now. I’ll be back this afternoon to see how you’re getting on.”

And with that she was gone; the closing of the living room door being followed a few seconds later by the sound of the back door slamming shut. And then silence reigned.

****

This afternoon? By my estimation it couldn’t have been more than ten o’clock when Ellie uttered those words, so it looked as if I was in for a stay of at least two hours here. And it could be much longer than that, as there was no guarantee that she’d be back at the stroke of midday. What if, by afternoon she actually meant three or four o’clock? In that case I was in for a particularly long session of sightless, inescapable helplessness.

To say that I would never have been able to get out of this on my own would be no exaggeration. And you would think, wouldn’t you, that a situation like this would be an extremely frightening experience, having absolutely no control over your own destiny? This, however, couldn’t have been further from the truth. In fact, as the door shut and I realised that I’d been abandoned, I felt a sense of exhilaration. During my initial self-bondage session, although I’d enjoyed the thrill of my predicament, there were always a few constantly nagging doubts at the back of my mind, which just wouldn’t go away. As I mentioned earlier, there is always a chance of getting disorientated, dropping the key, or the locks of the cuffs getting jammed. And these, and a thousand and one variations on the same themes, are all possibilities that you just can’t totally block out, no matter how much you’re enjoying your self-induced captivity.

Now, of course, these concerns had been removed from the equation. Okay, so I was stuck here without hope of escape. But I knew that I didn’t have to worry about locating or dropping the key, or the release mechanism getting stuck. Now I was totally under the control of someone else, who I knew would return at some point – however long that might be – to let me out. And when she did return, what were her plans for me then? Although this question remained unanswerable, I suspected, from Ellie’s teasing demeanour, that she had mischief on her mind. And this thought sent a tingle of anticipation rushing through me.

So, for the next few hours, I decided to relax, bide my time and await the return of my beautiful captor. Not that I was capable of doing very much else of course!

****

Having been a serial self-bondager for years, you get to be fairly good at accurately assessing the passage of time, even though you don’t have access to a clock, or even the ability to watch the passing of the day or the position of the sun in the sky. So after what I estimated to be around four hours, the sound of someone once again entering the house reached my ears. Listening intently, I heard the living room door open. I was expecting to hear Ellie’s voice straight away, but instead all remained silent, save for footsteps on the floor. For what must have been a minute at least, the sound of shoes on carpet circled me, as if my visitor was inspecting my bonds to ensure nothing had slipped or come loose. Only after several circuits did my guest interact with me, and this took the form of the spandex hood gradually rising from my head, followed by the removal of the blindfold. When the door had first opened, I’d assumed that this was my neighbour-turned -captor returning, but after the absence of communication I’d begun to doubt this, although who else this could have been I had no idea. So it was with some relief, as my eyes became accustomed to the afternoon sunshine that streamed through the window, that I was greeted with the beaming smile of Ellie.

“Hi Steve, how’s your day been so far? Didn’t manage to escape, I see. Or maybe you were so comfortable and content that you didn’t even bother trying.”

I tried to explain that both of these things were actually true, but my attempts at speech fared no better than my muted efforts this morning.

Ellie walked across the room, reached the window, then turned to face me.

“So, as you seem to be quite happy to stay bound and gagged, I think I’ll leave you like that for a while longer.”

She came back over towards me. When she reached the chair, she sat astride me and wrapped her arms around my upper body. Looking into my eyes from only a few inches away, her voice was little more than a sexy whisper.

“Don’t worry though. I don’t intend to abandon you again. In fact, I’ve decided to join you for a while.”

She got up and reached into the now almost empty bag on the floor.

“You see, I’ve been wondering what the fascination is with being all tied up, so I’ve decided that I’m going to find out by keeping you company.”

She picked up the only two remaining items available to her; the spare handcuffs and the reel of tape. Although I’d wrapped several circuits of the latter around my face and head, and Ellie had then mummified my hands and wrists, this was an industrial sized reel, and therefore less than half the strongly bonding adhesive strip had been used up. However, Ellie now set about rectifying this oversight.

Sitting down facing me on my lap again, with her legs either side of the seat, she picked the end of the tape away with her long fingernails, then leant down to her left – my right – until her head was down by the side of the chair. At first I didn’t understand what she was up to, but soon it all became clear. Being tall, slim and supple, Ellie was capable of stretching her lean frame right around to the back leg of the chair, to which she was currently binding her ankle with several orbits of the grey duct tape. Having achieved this feat, she sat up before me again, shook her long blonde hair back from where it had fallen across her face, then tested the competence of her work by giving a sharp tug on her ankle. When her leg and the chair’s failed to part company, she gave a little laugh of satisfaction, before stretching down to her right, in order to complete the symmetry by treating her other ankle in similar fashion.

With her legs now fixed to the same chair that I’d been bound to for several hours, Ellie shuffled her bottom, to get herself comfortable; her buttocks wriggling gently against my thighs. Having her so close was getting me all hot and bothered again, and my erection must have been obvious to her as she took further steps to make sure that she and I would soon be bound together as one inseparable item. First though, she decided to ensure that I didn’t feel left out when it came to my inability to speak. Producing a pair of her own panties from her pocket, she ceremoniously rolled these up into a ball in front of my startled yet very pleasantly surprised eyes, before stuffing them into her mouth until they almost disappeared behind her teeth. The sealing of her mouth was done quickly and without fuss, as she wound the tape around her head several times, so that her lower face and mine were now almost mirror images of each other’s.

Ellie tried to speak now – whether to say something meaningful, or just to test the muting properties of the gag, I’m not certain – then giggled when she found that her words came out as unintelligible. Satisfied that conversation was now impossible, she held the reel of tape up and studied it momentarily, as if trying to gauge if there was still enough left for her purposes. She seemed convinced that there was. Without further delay, and before I realised what she had in mind, she leant her body in as near to mine as she could, then began winding the tape around our now intimately touching bodies, so that, once she’d made four or five circuits with the efficiently bonding adhesive strips, there was no way we could pull away from each other.

Of course, with such a gorgeous body pressed so snugly to mine, I had no wish to in any way bring this rather special moment to an early conclusion. With Ellie sat on my lap, and therefore slightly higher than myself, her breasts were now pressing directly into my face, and her wriggling, writhing action, as she tested the competence of her latest handiwork, had me in a state of emotional turmoil. The fact that she was so close, and yet I was powerless to get at her warm, squirming body, was both wonderful and deeply frustrating at the same time. And it was obvious from the teasing way she shimmied and thrust herself seductively, that she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

But what were her plans now? It occurred to me that, although she’d come this far in her little self-bondage experiment, she still had one last piece of the jigsaw to put into place for this to be a truly shared experience. And Ellie obviously had this in mind too. All this time, my second set of handcuffs had been resting on Ellie’s thigh, and now, certain that she and I were inseparably welded together, she decided the time was right to complete her work of art. Digging her fingers into the rear pocket of her jeans, it took her several seconds to extract the key she’d placed there all those hours ago. Holding this in one hand and the handcuffs in the other, words would have been unnecessary to explain her planned course of action. Making a fist around the key, she quickly placed the bracelet around her wrist and closed it to a point where slipping her hand free was never an option. Transferring the key carefully from one hand to the other, to ensure that it didn’t slip through her fingers and drop to the floor, she placed her hands behind her back and prepared to complete the process of shackling herself.

So engrossed was I in watching this beautiful creature gradually immerse herself in a state of self-bondage, that it wasn’t until this point that I suddenly realised the fatal flaw in her otherwise perfectly thought out scheme. For although Ellie had been conscientious in the way she ensured that her legs were taped securely to the chair and that our bodies were now bonded securely together, there was one thing she should have tested prior to this last, irreversible stage of the process; one golden rule that all seasoned self-bondagers apply before snapping a pair of handcuffs shut around their wrists. And that is: always make sure that the key will activate the release mechanism when required. Clearly Ellie’s plan was to cuff herself behind her back, enjoy an hour or two of shared bondage with me, then let herself out again. The problem was, however, that once she’d clicked the ratchets shut on that second bracelet, this would no longer be within her powers.

The reason for my sudden state of panic stemmed from the recollection that, although my two sets of handcuffs appeared very similar, they were actually different in a few small details. The most important of which was the fact that the keys that opened them were not interchangeable. In other words, once she’d manacled herself behind her back, Ellie wouldn’t be able to release herself with the key that was only suited to open the handcuffs that I was wearing. The key to those she was about to innocently shackle herself with, currently lay encased in a block of ice, hidden at the bottom of my freezer in the kitchen. My plan had been to use this in another self-bondage session in a few days time. Now, however, it suddenly occurred to me of the need to alert Ellie to the fact that she mustn’t, under any circumstances, click that second bracelet shut. But unfortunately, with my ability to make myself understood severely hampered, Ellie misconstrued the message that I was trying to impart to her; assuming, I guess, that my reasons for shaking my head and ‘mmpphing’ as loudly as I could were of a less urgent nature.

Click... click... click. The teeth of the ratcheted arm on the cuffs closing around Ellie’s wrist made my heart skip a beat. So now we were both trapped here, unable to move from the chair. And the fact was that, as yet, Ellie wasn’t even aware of what she’d just done; her smiling eyes and stifled laughs letting me know that to her this was all an exciting adventure, which she could end whenever she felt like it.

Getting the message across that we were now in trouble took several minutes, but eventually my stern demeanour and continued attempts to communicate the severity of our plight, finally seemed to alert Ellie to the fact that something was wrong. My assertion that “it’s the wrong key!” may have been lost on its way through my gag, but after repeating this mantra more than a dozen times, the gist of what I was trying to tell her began to sink in. Even so, for a minute or two she didn’t appear to believe me; still showing no sign of concern, and probably thinking that I was just trying to scare her. But repetition of the same announcement over and over again gradually began to make her realise that maybe I was being serious after all.

I watched her left shoulder twist somewhat, as she manoeuvred her fettered hands into a position where she could insert the key into one of the holes on the metal bracelets. For several seconds she tried and failed to get the thin sliver of metal into its allotted slot; a soft murmur of frustration seeping through her gag as she toiled away in vain. Finally, however, she seemed to get the key positioned correctly and, with a squeak of triumph, attempted to activate the release mechanism by turning it 90 degrees. But, as I already knew would be the case, nothing happened. She tried again, but still no joy. Furrowing her brow, I discerned the first glint of unease in her eyes. Pulling her hands to her left, she craned her neck back over her shoulder, in order to maybe catch a glimpse of the unyielding cuffs so that she could better understand why they refused to let her loose. But this failed to bring enlightenment.

Trying again, she fumbled and writhed in increasing agitation to get the key to turn and the metal arm to release its grip on her flesh. But once again, this failed to bring about the anticipated result. For five minutes or so, Ellie tried with increasing levels of panic to attain freedom from her self-imposed captivity; her frantic attempts getting ever more desperate as time wore on. Finally, she seemed to recognise that the message that I’d been trying to convey to her was no joke, and that she was completely trapped in a situation of her own making. Gone was the mischief in her eyes, replaced now by a fear that there was no way out.

For several seconds, a long and garbled series of doleful sounds issued from my bound partner’s packed and sealed mouth. But even though her words were stifled and incomprehensible, I was able to pick up the essence of her now sorrowful pleas. Basically Ellie was beseeching me for help in getting her out of the hole that she’d dug for herself. I tried to remind her that, due to her efforts this morning, I was in no position to in any way get her – us, in fact – out of this dire mess with which we were faced. This only made her struggle harder, and a high pitched squeal of anguish filtered through her gag. There was, of course, no one other than myself to hear her.

Now my feelings about this whole situation were, in truth, mixed. The glass-half-empty outlook was that we were now going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future, until someone turned up to set us free. From the glass-half-full point of view, however, I was quite enjoying the thought of being tied so tightly and in such close proximity to a woman whose every move made me shiver with excitement. And even better than this, it occurred to me that now she’d used up every available option to get her hands free, the only alternative was for her to attempt to let me out of my handcuffs.

How this was going to be achieved, with her hands behind her back, mine behind mine, and our bodies bonded together with tape, face to face, I wasn’t too sure. Especially as my hands were encased in a multi-layered tape mitten, through which my fingers had tried but failed to fashion an outlet. But these concerns, whilst major obstacles, were her problem, not mine, if she wanted to find freedom. What gave me the greatest satisfaction was that I now had the upper hand, insofar as, if Ellie wanted to get out of this predicament that she’d landed us in, she had no choice but to let me out of my shackles, then hope that I chose to reciprocate by releasing her. And I knew, after her first failed attempt to break the obstinate tape that held our conjoined bodies as one, that she too realised that there was no viable alternative than to give in to this course of action.

****

It is now Sunday morning, and the fact that I am writing this should tell you that I’m now free from my bonds. It had taken a long time, and a great deal of effort and frustration on Ellie’s part, to devise and then put into practice a plan that eventually allowed her to puncture the tape mitten that she’d fashioned for me, then transfer the key to my now tape-free fingers so that I could unlock my manacles and release my wrists from the steel restraints. And all done with her hands still firmly locked behind her back! In fact, by the time I was finally free to untie the rest of my many bonds, it was late evening and the room was in complete darkness. In other words, Ellie and I had been in a shared state of inescapability for more than six hours.

You may have noticed that I began the last paragraph in the first person singular: ‘I’m now free from my bonds’ rather than ‘we’re now free from our bonds’. Well there’s a very good reason for this. As I gaze across the room now, Ellie sits upright in the chair; the same piece of furniture to which she bound me more than twenty four hours ago. In fact, the way she’s tied, with her feet pulled up beneath the seat so that even the tips of her toes can’t reach the floor, and with every piece of rope in my collection being utilised to ensure she remains in place, her state of bondage is almost identical to the manner in which she left me stranded for several hours yesterday, including the use of the blindfold and spandex hood. The only real difference between her current state and mine yesterday, is that her wrists are being forced to endure both sets of handcuffs. (And just for the record, the key to the second set of cuffs remains deep frozen in my freezer, where I have every intention of leaving it for the foreseeable future). Naturally, on top of these steel restraints, a tape cocoon has been employed to discourage her fingers from wandering.

Slowly, I get up from my seat in front of the laptop and walk as silently as possible across the carpeted floor. My heart beats a bit faster as I approach; she really does look so good all tied up like that. Coming to a halt behind Ellie’s back, I put my arms around her and gently fondle her breasts. She flinches slightly and gives a faint squeal of surprise, but without even the merest hint of a struggle; having given the pursuit of freedom up as a lost cause many hours ago.

“So Ellie, I’ve just about finished documenting the saga of the last twenty four hours, but I’d love to know - as I’m sure the readers of this story would too - exactly how you managed to get the key from your hands into mine with us both tied together so tightly. After all, it was too dark by that time for me to see how you managed it, but it seemed an impossible feat from where I was sitting.”

A long drawn out moan issues from somewhere beneath the spandex hood, indecipherable as speech and not a little desperate in tone.

“What was that Ellie?”

A further three syllable sentence drifts through her layered gag, but this is as garbled as her previous utterance.

“I’m sorry Ellie, I can’t understand a single word you’re saying.”

She tries again, this time much louder and with a hint of anger in her tone. In her frustration, she tugs on her bonds, causing the chair to wobble slightly. Her words, however, are still distorted and unclear.

It seems that Ellie’s not willing to share her secret at the moment.

I guess, therefore, that we’ll just have to leave it at that...

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04.10.17