Archive-name: Bondage/strict.txt
Archive-author: John Savage
Archive-title: Strictest Bondage, The


         an excerpt from "Tales of the BondageMasters' Club"

              It was a dark and stormy night and a few of us had taken
         refuge at the BondageMasters' Club, the very exclusive
         private club you've probably heard of and wished you could
         afford to join.  All of the dungeons downstairs were booked
         up right then which led some of us to gather around the
         fireplace in the lounge.  We talked about one thing or the
         other and pretty soon the conversations got around to a
         commonly asked question at the Club: what is the strictest,
         heaviest bondage you've ever seen?
              Bill Colins sipped his brandy and related a time when he
         was in college and had his girlfriend over to his parent's
         house.  They were gone to Europe and he had run of the place.
         Having all the time in the world, he decided to try the most
         elaborate bondage he could imagine.  He took his girlfriend,
         a lovely young lass of nineteen summers and delightful
         curves, so we were led to believe, to the garage.  This being
         a three car garage, there was a wooden post in the middle of
         one side, about eight inches on a side and painted so it was
         smooth.  It was not hard, he said, to persuade Nancy to
         remove her clothes; she having already had a couple of
         cocktails and being in an amorous mood.  When she was
         completely naked he backed her against the post and had her
         wrists tied behind it before the sweet young thing realized
         what was happening.  Actually, I suspect she was as
         willing a "victim", as all of my girlfriends had been back in
         the college days.
              Then, he continued, he dragged out a carton of cotton
         clothesline packages, twenty-four in all, and proceeded to
         open them.  The rope began to flow on to the girl who giggled
         delightedly and seemed to find nothing out of the ordinary
         about being bound naked to a garage post.  Rope was soon
         wrapped around her legs, binding them to each other, then
         around the legs and the post, locking them firmly to the
         wood.  More rope found its way around her waist, tucking in
         her tummy most delightfully.  At first he wrapped with the
         breasts sticking out between the coils of rope.  But as more
         and more rope went on, he found that those breasts were about
         the only skin showing and that seemed to spoil the effect.
         So he wrapped rope around them and the post, squashing them
         into pancakes.  Or at least that's what it seemed like, he
         confided.
              It took a long time, especially being careful to wrap
         and knot each rope so that it couldn't fall down, but he
         eventually had the poor girl wrapped from head to toe.  The
         rope began at the tops of her feet and continued up without
         interruption or skin showing until it reached the bottom of
         her chin.  A great deal of rope had been wrapped around her
         neck so that the shoulders were covered.  But that rope had
         been only mildly tight so that there was no problem with her
         breathing.  Carefully wrapped rope filled her mouth as it
         passed between her lips and around the post.  More rope
         wrapped her head and the post from her nose to mid-forehead.
         There was enough rope over the eyes that she was effectively
         blindfolded.  Then he stood back.  Only her feet and a little
         bit of her face here and there showed, the rest was solid
         clothesline.   Even from the back no skin showed, the arms
         and hands and even fingers had been covered with rope.
              Bill then reaffirmed why he was a member of our
         exclusive club.  He took some thin twine and, while down
         on hands and knees, bound her big toes together.  Beautiful
         touch, that, heh?
              Finally the bondage was complete.  Bill surveyed his
         handiwork and approved.  Never in all the existence of woman
         and rope had one female be so completely bound and helpless.
         He ordered her to struggle, to exert all her strength to free
         herself from that cotton prison.  The toes wiggled a bit and
         maybe there was the slightest tremor in the hair on top of
         her head.  But that was all.  It was beautiful, he assured
         us.
              We all agreed that such bondage was good and certainly
         extremely strict, if somewhat lacking in originality.  After
         all, anyone can come up with the idea of simply wrapping the
         girl with three day's output of a rope factory.  Truly
         imaginative bondage had to have something a bit more, some
         spark of ingenuity.
              Mark came forward then with his version.  The girl, he
         said, was the wife of a friend, her name being Nora.  This
         friend was very much into leather and bondage and enjoyed
         applying both to his wife.  The night in question Mark was
         invited over to witness the standard procedure used to secure
         Nora for her night's rest.  They had a special bedroom they
         used as a playroom, so the guy could purchase or build all
         the equipment he wanted.  Mark settled himself in a corner to
         watch.  Nora began by shedding every stitch of clothing.
         Having never seen Nora in the buff before, Mark said that he
         was quite delighted to find that the normally drab and
         shapeless clothing worn by that slender twenty-five year old
         female hid a very shapely body with proud, perky breasts.
         Immediately her hands were bound behind her back with the
         palms facing each other.  Then the elbows were bound together
         with rope both above and below them.
              Nora sat on the edge of a leather covered and padded
         table while her legs were bound at the ankles, and above and
         below the knees. Then those legs were inserted into a leather
         sheath that came all the way up to her waist.  The sheath was
         like a single glove used for bondage of a girl's arms but
         designed to fit the legs.  There were laces up the front and
         her husband worked them upwards until they were tight all the
         way from her ankles to her tummy.  Wide leather straps were
         added around her legs at the knees and the usual above and
         below the knees.
              Nora then stood up as her arms were fitted into a
         leather single glove and it was laced up.  There were two
         straps that passed over her shoulders to secure the glove on
         and prevent it from slipping down.  Then came a sort of
         straightjacket, made of black leather and having no arm holes
         whatsoever.  The leather jacket went on and laced up.  A wide
         strap sown into it at the tummy had a roller buckle and was
         pulled down very tight.  Another wide leather strap at the
         top was buckled around her neck.  Two other wide straps were
         attached and buckled around her torso above and below the
         breasts.
              Nora smiled at Mark who could guess what was coming
         next.  With most of her covered by leather restrictions, only
         her head was bare.  First came a ball gag, not too large a
         one, just enough too fill her mouth.  That strapped behind
         her head.  Then a padded blindfold over her eyes.  The
         discipline hood was also black leather and also laced on
         after being molded onto her face.  There was a wide leather
         strap around the bottom which buckled around the neck, right
         over the neckpiece of the straightjacket.  The only bit of
         skin now showing was Nora's nose, the last, sad piece of a
         once proud girl.
              But, of course, you knew the table would come into this,
         Mark assured us.  We nodded.  Nora was picked up and laid
         down on the table, tummy side down and stretched out.  More
         leather straps appeared and went around the narrow table and
         the already helpless girl, securing her to the table.  Her
         ankles were pushed down until the toes pointed.  Straps held
         her legs, hips and torso.  If those straps had been her only
         bondage, Mark doubted she would have escaped.  A final strap
         over her neck pulled her head down to the padding and held it
         there.  The face was turned towards Mark and he could see her
         nose flare as she breathed.
              It was a wonderful piece of bondage, Mark stated.  The
         captive girl could not move a muscle.  She was being pressed
         in by rope and leather on every inch of her body, a constant
         and very vivid reminder of her helplessness.  Mark could see
         the outline of ropes around her legs through the leather
         encasing them, so tight was the sheath.
              Mark paused to take a drink when someone asked him if
         Nora really sleep every night so bound in leather.  Mark
         pursed his lips and admitted that no, she didn't.  Nora had
         later admitted to Mark that she didn't spend every night like
         that.  Only the weekday nights, she said.  On the weekends
         her husband put her into really strict bondage!
              We chuckled and admitted that such leather bondage was
         pretty good.  We had all seen similar bondage from the
         leather-lovers in the Club and knew that it could be very
         stimulating and exciting.  For both the binder and bindee.
              Then came Ronald's turn.  He sighed and said that he,
         being newer to the bondage field, had less experience with
         such matters but that he had one time seen some bondage that
         was both strict and unusual.  He had a mistress on the side,
         something his wife did not know about, and he visited this
         young lady once a week or so, paying in exchange a portion of
         her rent and allowance.  It worked out well as he liked her
         and she was totally open minded about his bondage tastes.
         Well, one evening he was due to visit Charlene.  Unlocking
         her door with his key, he entered to find a dark apartment
         with no sign of life.  Exploring a bit he found her bedroom
         door was closed.  He opened it.  Inside it was dark but he
         heard a familiar sound, the muffled moan of a female in
         distress as filtered through a gag.  He flipped on the
         lights.
              Charlene was indeed in distress.  For long moments
         Ronald could do nothing but stare.  His mistress was
         suspended in mid-air in the center of the bedroom.  Moreover,
         she was completely naked save for a ball gag and leather
         bands around her wrists and ankles.  Someone had screwed
         heavy metal rings into the floor on opposite sides of the
         room and another set into the ceiling next to the wall.
         Charlene had been stretched out between those rings in a
         giant "X", arms and legs spread wide.  Leather bands
         encircled her wrists and ankles but rope continued from the
         bands to the rings.  She was so far above the floor that her
         belly button was level with Ronald's nose.
               The naked, wide open body in such unique bondage had an
         immediate effect upon Ronald.  Assuming that Charlene had
         requested someone to put her in this bondage as a surprise
         for him, he threw off his clothes, tearing some of them in
         the process, and threw himself upon her body.  Of course, he
         discovered that a girl suspended several feet off the floor
         could not easily be raped.  Her pussy, it was true, was in
         good position for the attention of his tongue or fingers, but
         his tool was not normally capable of reaching such heights.
         Necessity being the mother of something, Ronald grabbed a
         chair and stood upon it that he might reach the promised
         land.
              Later, after a quick but satisfying orgasm for both of
         them, he untied her legs and allowed her to stand upon the
         chair while he released her arms.  It was when he unbuckled
         the gag that he found out that Charlene had not been so
         displayed for him but rather that another of her "customers"
         had bound her like that as cruel joke.  This other guy
         figured that a sexy, beautiful girl like Charlene had more
         boyfriends than just him and one of them would find her in a
         day or two.  Fortunately Charlene had spent only one day in
         her suspended spreadeagle and had not suffered any permanent
         injury.
              That, we agreed, was indeed strict bondage and quite
         inescapable, which is, of course, the first and most
         important definition of strict bondage.
              Then it was my turn.  Once, I related, I had the
         pleasure to be challenged by a delightfully cury young
         miss who insisted that I couldn't dream up a bondage position
         that both prevent her escape and tax her ability to endure.
         Since Susan had a healthy, full figure to go along with her
         innocent and sweet looks, I accepted the challenge.  Being
         aware of her tendency to prefer nudity to clothes when bound
         up didn't hurt, either.
              On the evening of the challenge, she showed up at my
         house wearing a wonderfully tight dress with ridiculously
         high heels she could hardly walk in and smug grin that said
         other males had answered her challenge and failed.
              The playroom was equipped with a number of rings in the
         ceiling, walls and floor.  It was also soundproofed and the
         window had drapes so thick as to prevent any light from
         escaping.  And females never escaped from that room, either.
         Susan looked approvingly at the ropes I had laid out
         and nodded at the rings.  She stipulated that there was to be
         ropes only, no chains or handcuffs, etc.  There were to be no
         ropes around the neck (a precaution I normally observe
         anyway), and that I would not allow my hands to wander to
         places of her body of interest to a man but not necessary to
         the process of binding her.  Should I take such liberties I
         would be slapped silly when she untied herself, I was
         assured.  I agreed to the provisions and we began.
              First off she removed her clothes without my asking.
         Her body was indeed as beautiful as I had imagined from the
         curves of her clothing.  She bicycled a great deal and
         displayed a wonderful muscle tone with being overdeveloped.
         Being in good shape, she assured me, was a big aid in her
         overcoming the bondage placed upon her by over-confident
         males.
              I began by placing her wrists together, palms facing
         inward, and binding them.  I took my time, placing each
         winding of the cotton clothesline carefully so that the ropes
         were even and fairly snug.  Then I wrapped the rope between
         her arms and over the wrist ropes to cinch them down.  I tied
         three very tight knots then cinched down a couple more turns.
         Then I tied three more knots and cinched down again.  The
         final three knots left about two feet of rope hanging free.
         She noted the rope hanging down and smirked at such
         sloppiness.  I then bound her elbows after pulling them
         together.  That bondage was also cinched down and multiply
         knotted.  Then the rope dangling from her wrists went up to
         the elbow bondage where it was wrapped tightly and knotted
         half a dozen times.  She had been following the bonds
         as they went on and was not smirking now.  She knew that the
         final knots being up at her elbows would make them impossible
         to reach.
              I wrapped loops around her hips and wrists, pinning her
         arms to her bottom.  I cinched that rope down between her
         arms and body then ran rope from her wrists down between her
         legs and up to the rope in front.  It passed over that rope
         and back through to her wrists.  Those crotch ropes were
         pulled tight and knotted several times.  Then the end of the
         rope was passed up to the elbow bondage and the final knots
         placed there.
              In a similar manner I bound her legs at the ankles and
         again above the knees.  As I fetched the gag I noticed that
         Susan's nipples were standing out, rigid as if she were
         highly excited.  I had seen that reaction too many times
         before when binding women to not know what it meant.
              I selected a ball for a gag that was just large enough
         to fit into Susan's mouth.  It was, of course, tightly
         strapped in the back.  Then I added a discipline hood, the
         kind that is made of soft leather and laced up the back so
         they can be made very tight, like a second skin.  Only her
         nose showed through the hood.  I explained as I laced it very
         tightly that the hood was to assure she would not be able to
         use her mouth or teeth to aid in her escape attempt.  Also, I
         sweetly told her, the hood helps because it prevents her from
         seeing her bondage.
              Now I was almost ready.  I helped her down to the floor
         and tied a heavier rope around her ankle ropes.  That rope
         went up to the ring in the center of the ceiling.  Soon Susan
         was suspended completely off the floor and upside down.  Her
         leather-encased head was twisting this way and that as if in
         indecision and her fingers fluttered nervously.  That was a
         very helpless girl, and yet I was not finished with her.  For
         a girl who had demolished other male egos one must take
         every precaution.
              On the top of the discipline hood there was a small loop
         of leather.  Susan had probably not notice it there.  And she
         might not have noticed that directly under the ring in the
         ceiling was another ring in the floor.  Humming merrily to
         myself, I tied a short piece of rope to the hood's loop and
         to the floor ring, pulling it snug so that her head ceased
         its turnings.  Now Susan was stretched out between the floor
         and ceiling, in strict bondage and upside down.  I informed
         her that it was now her turn in this contest, speaking loudly
         so she could be able to hear me inside that leather hood.
         And I informed her that I would return to free her in two
         hours, the agreed upon time limit.
              I returned in two hours to find a sweating, exhausted
         and very defeated girl.  No sooner had the ropes been removed
         from her arms then she embraced my legs and vowed eternal
         submission to the male who could make her so helpless.
              Everyone agreed that the upside down bondage was very
         good.  But some thought the garage post might have been a
         little better, while some held out for encasing the girl in
         leather and strapping her down to the table.  Only Ronald
         insisted that an X suspension was better but his logic was
         based on the fact that only that position of them all allowed
         for access and the performance of the sex act.  The argument
         and more examples continued on into the night, as is usual at
         the BondageMasters' Club.
              Which did you think was the strictest bondage?



         Like Father, Like Son

         by John Savage


              Lynda smoothed the nylon over her shapely leg and
         affixed the garter snaps to the top of it high up on her
         thigh.  After slipping on the high heels she stood to view
         the results in the mirror.  Looking back at her was a tart, a
         whore dressed in her working clothes, or perhaps the starlet
         in a porno movie.  The girl was young, only eighteen, and
         pretty, with long blonde hair falling to just the level of
         her pert nipples.  She studied her face as she often had done
         in the mirror at home.  The lips were a little too large but
         they were made to pout.  Her eyes were bright blue, outlined
         now in a hint of blue shadow.  The overall appearance was
         still that of an innocent and sweet teenager girl next door.
         She wanted to stamp her feet but was having enough trouble
         standing on the five inch high heels.  Even applying makeup
         and dressing like a harlot hadn't altered her youthful
         appeal.

              She turned to study the effect of the clothes.  The bra
         was lacy and see through, showing off her large breasts
         rather than hiding them.  She could easily see her erect
         nipples poking at the black satin.  The panties were more of
         a G-string, a tiny bit of black nylon in the shape of a vee
         that almost covered her pubic patch and was little more than
         a string around her waist and between her bottom cheeks.  The
         garterbelt was thin, simply a support for the nylons.  She
         had chosen the plain black one over those with frills and
         lace.  The nylons were dark brown and had the old fashion
         seam running down the back.  It had been maddening for her to
         try and get that seam straight.  She wondered how her mother
         had done it every day.  The shoes were black patented leather
         with ridiculously high heels.  She could see the tip of her
         nyloned toes sticking through the opening at the end.

              The effect was certainly not the Lynda her friends knew.
         Before that mirror was a full-figured woman, youthful and
         with wonderfully firm breasts and legs, and a flat tummy, but
         undoubtedly a very real woman and very sexy.

              She sighed, wishing she could have made her face look a
         little older but otherwise pleased with the effect.  The old
         fashioned nylons felt strange to wear but she had to admit
         the effect was interesting.  And those high heels!  Being
         just over five foot and eight inches, Lynda had never felt
         the need for high heels.  But standing on tiny heels that
         raised her own heel five inches above carpet was something
         else.  Yet she had to yet again admit that the effect was
         nice.  The shape of her legs had changed.  She was not sure
         just what the difference was but they certainly had never
         looked as sexy before.

              But seven o'clock was coming up and she had to hurry to
         prepare herself for Steve's coming.  Going to the bed she
         checked the placement of ropes.  Then she sat down in the
         middle of the bed and spread her legs wide.  Each high heeled
         foot came to rest on a length of rope.  The other ends of
         those ropes were tied tightly to the corner legs of the bed.
         Bending over Lynda took one rope and wrapped it tightly
         around an ankle.  Several knots held it firm.  Then she
         secured the other ankle.  Stretching back until she was
         laying propped up on her elbows, she tugged at each ankle to
         confirm that the legs were securely bound with no chance of
         the ropes coming loose.  Then she lay on her back and picked
         up the leather gag she had found in that strange little book
         store on Main street.  It was one of those book stores that
         catered to adult tastes and also carried a selection of what
         the clerk referred to as "B&D" equipment.  Lynda had been
         intrigued by the leather cuffs, handcuffs and other bondage
         items displayed behind the glass case.  And more than a
         little embarrassed by the display of rubber penises.  But she
         had bought what she had decided she would need and ignored
         the silly smirk on the clerk's face.

              The gag was simple but effective.  Lynda knew, she had
         tried it.  It was a band of leather with a buckle so that it
         could be passed over the mouth and buckled behind the head.
         Attached to the inside of the gag was a leather ball that
         filled the center of the mouth enough to push her tongue
         down.  When Lynda had tried it she found the taste something
         less than desirable but it had been effective.  She also
         liked the helpless look it gave her face when she viewed the
         tightly strapped leather in the mirror.

              With the gag in place she turned her attention to the
         final piece of her plan.  Placing her hands above her head
         she found the handcuffs.  Her measurements had been pretty
         close and she had to stretch and wiggle her body upwards as
         much as the ankle ropes allowed in order for her to place her
         wrists one at a time in the metal circlets and click them
         shut.  As the second one clicked shut until it was firm
         around her wrists a shiver of excitement danced down her
         spine.  Up to that point she could have undone the ropes and
         retreated from her plan.  But now her wrists were both locked
         firmly above her head and with that her entire body was
         secured and helpless.  The handcuffs, she knew, could not be
         moving no matter how she struggled.  She had also purchased a
         short length of small chain and two padlocks.  One end she
         padlocked to the frame under the bed.  The other end was
         padlocked to the small link joining the two cuffs.

              Lynda tested her bondage.  Her knees could bend only the
         slightest and there was no way she could bring her legs
         together.  Her wrists were captives in steel and would stay
         such until freed by someone with the key.  She wiggled her
         body and noted how the large breasts jiggled within the
         flimsy bra.  Good, she thought.  When Steve comes in the door
         a bit of honest struggling will put on a good display, a
         display that should evoke extreme sexual excitement.  And
         then he would have his way with the bound down and helpless
         Lynda.  She sighed.

              Since he had become her boyfriend Lynda had sought new
         ways to excite this male and simulate his lovemaking.  For
         Steve, you see, had a little problem keeping an erection long
         enough to please the highly sexual Lynda.  Still she loved
         him and tried her best to tease and excite him.  Once he had
         been looking at a old movie and made the comment that he
         found those nylons with the seams and garterbelts a real
         turn-on.  It had taken several weeks to find the clothes and
         bondage equipment but now she was prepared to shock him with
         a wanton display of sexually stimulating dress and bondage,
         both of which he liked.

              And Lynda had to admit to herself that she found the
         erotic clothing exciting.  And the feeling of helplessness,
         the knowing that she was unable to free herself, that she
         would stay stretched out on that bed for as long as her
         boyfriend wanted, was doing strange and wonderful things
         inside her.  Visions of Steve leaving her bound to the
         bed all night and repeatedly screwing her flashed in her mind
         and left her mouth dry and her body tinglely all over.

              Steve had told her he was coming back to his apartment
         at seven so she had let herself in at six and brought her
         sexy clothes and ropes.  In twenty minutes he should be
         coming in to finding the girl of his dreams awaiting
         helplessly for his pleasure.  And her's.

              Lynda giggled into her gag then, just as a test, cried
         out in a simulated but loud moan of pleasure.  The cry was
         nicely muffled by the leather inside and over her mouth.
         Steve liked girls helpless and he would find a prime example
         laying on his own bed.  The twenty minutes passed slowly for
         a bound up girl.  Yet there was a strange sort of excitement
         and that made it a very pleasurable twenty minutes.

              Suddenly there was a sound from the front room.  Lynda
         tensed and felt quivery inside .  Footsteps approached the
         bedroom door.  She gulped and began her struggling act.
         Except it wasn't totally an act.  The thought suddenly
         occurred to her that perhaps this wasn't Steve!  Maybe a
         burglar!  Or...

              It was Steve.  He stood in the doorway and stared open
         mouthed.  Lynda increased her struggled, especially those
         that jiggled her breasts and thrust her hips up and down
         suggestively.  She made moaning noises.  And she was not
         acting.  She suddenly found herself very horny.  She wanted
         her man to rip off his clothes and throw himself upon her
         body in a rage of lust.

              Steve stood there with his mouth hanging open.  "Well,
         shit!" he finally managed.  Lynda's heart sank when she saw
         him stagger a bit as he crossed to the bed.  It was obvious
         he had been drinking again and that meant what lovemaking
         ability he normally had would be right out the window.  Even
         with her dressed like a whore and totally helpless on his
         bed, he showed only mild curiosity.  All those really great
         wiggles were wasted, she moaned inwardly.

              "What the hell you doin', woman?  What, can't talk?
         Shit!  And where'd you get them funny shoes?  And all that
         other stuff?  You didn't take any of my money, did you?"  He
         paused to sniff.  "You're the damnest, weirdest woman I ever
         had."

              Lynda wanted to cry.  All those bad things in Steve were
         coming out right when she had wanted and expected a loving,
         excited male.

              A male hand roughly grabbed her right breast to kneed
         it.  The treatment was too harsh and hurt her flesh but it
         was something and she responded with a moan and tensing of
         her body.  She pleaded, both for him continue and to be more
         gentle, but the words never formed and only whining noises
         came out of the leather gag.

              Steve squeezed the breast and pinched the rigid nipple
         but his heart just wasn't in it.  "Hell," he said, "I need a
         drink."  He left and there followed sound of banging and
         clinking glass.  He looked mad when he reappeared.  "Shit,
         ain't got nothin' here."  He sniffed again and eyed Lynda.
         "Ain't you the dumbest broad.  Shit, I didn't tell you to get
         all dressed up funny.  And I'll be the one to tie you up when
         I want it.  You did that yourself?"  Lynda nodded.  "Hell,
         ain't that stupid!  A cunt that ties herself up!  Shit, I
         need a drink."  He stumbled away and Lynda heard the front
         door slam.

              Lynda's heart sank as her hopes for a fantastic night
         disappeared.  She wanted to cry.  Steve would go out and find
         his drink.  And another.  He wouldn't be back into very late,
         if then.  There had been times when he didn't come back until
         late the next day.

              Lynda wanted to scream with frustration.  She jerked
         against the handcuffs but only hurt her wrists.  Then
         suddenly she froze as it dawned on her that when Steve had
         stumbled out, there also went her freedom.  She had wanted
         him to keep her tied down and make love to her all night.
         Now she just wanted out.

              Now her efforts were not to please a man but to
         really escape.  But, after ten minutes of frantic struggling
         she had only tightened down the ropes on her ankles and hurt
         her wrists.  Her body still lay stretched out invitingly on
         the bed.  Too bad there was no man to accept that invitation.

              Just as Lynda was accepting the long, lonely wait she
         would have until Steve sobered up and came home, there was
         the front door opening.  Lynda sucked in her breathe and hope
         flared inside.  But a minute later a head showed at the door
         way and it wasn't Steve.  This man was handsome but older and
         carried a package.  He seemed very surprised to find a nearly
         naked girl tied down to a bed but not shocked.  He entered
         and put the package down on the dresser.

              For a while the two looked at each other, Lynda fearful
         and embarrassed, the man puzzled.  Then he frowned.  Then he
         smiled.  "Now let me figure this out," he said.  "Steve knew
         his father was coming over tonight with some of his stuff
         from home.  Being a little crazy, like his old man, he
         decides that he's going to give me a birthday present.  It's
         only two weeks away, you know."  He paused and stroked his
         chin.  "But what to give his old man who has everything?
         Then it comes to him: give him a girl!  And what does he do?
         He gets the girl, probably a professional lady of the
         evening, to dress up in a way that he knew would turn on a
         man old enough to remember seamed nylons.  And he ties her
         down to his bed and leaves her there for his father to find."

              He shook his head in wonderment.  "I would never had
         thought Steve could have come up with such a wild idea.  And
         so much an appreciated one."

              He smiled warmly down at the imprisoned girl and began
         taking his clothes off.  Lynda lay there stunned for long
         seconds then began struggling against the ropes.

              "Don't worry, dear, your performance is great.  I do so
         love the way a girl looks when she's tied up and helpless.
         And you're about the best looking thing I've ever seen.
         Steve sure can pick them."

              Lynda cried out and moaned.  She knew her body was
         exciting this man with its struggled but she also had to
         communicate to him that he was totally wrong!  She pulled and
         twisted, aware that it was a great show but for the wrong
         reason.

              Suddenly Steve's father was down to nothing and Lynda
         gasped.  This man might have been older than she but that
         body was fine looking, trim and firm.  There might be a touch
         of grey at the temples but that rod was erect, pointed
         straight at her pussy and huge!  Lynda whined pitifully then
         sighed.  She wanted to laugh.  She was getting what she
         wanted but from the wrong man!  Then she forgot about
         laughing as he climbed upon the bed and began.

              It came as a shock to the helpless girl when this man
         didn't just push her thin panties aside and ram that huge rod
         home.  Instead he began stroking her legs with gentle hands.

              After initial fear, she settled down.  This man knew
         what he was doing!  The gentle fingers traced lines upon her
         bare skin and over nyloned skin.  They tickled and teased and
         simulated nerve endings where Lynda hadn't realized she even
         had nerves.  The spread and bound legs could not be closed
         and the inside of her thighs became a prime target for his
         attentions.  Then he was along side her, his fingers and
         tongue teasing her nipples.

              Lynda was surprised to find that she was already
         sexually excited and his man was playing upon her body like
         it was a fine instrument and he an expert.  Soon she was
         moaning and swaying the few inches allowed her body as she
         responded to his touch.  Then his head disappeared from her
         view between her legs.  At first Lynda was puzzled but then
         she felt the panties pulled aside and her private part
         opened.  Suddenly she jerked, baffled by a feeling she had
         never felt.  Then she moaned in sincere pleasure and
         surrendered herself to the incredible sensations as his
         tongue lapped her most private and sensitive spot.  With
         skilled hands and tongue this man took her to heights she
         hadn't believed possible.  No man had every done a thing but
         squeeze her breasts until she was juicy and ready then rammed
         home his tool until he came.  But this man drove her crazy
         with pleasure she had never known existed.  She crashed into
         a series of orgasms that left her whole body trembling.

              Then he entered her, slowly and gently, and began a love
         making such as she had never experienced.  Several orgasms
         later she was crying out in mindless pleasure as her body
         arched hard upward to meet his body.  She floated away.

              A long time later Lynda came back to earth.  She slowly
         became aware that she was still bound to the bed but the gag
         had been taken out.  Steve's father was siting in a chair,
         reading a book and smoking a pipe.  The sweet aroma drifted
         over to the captive girl.

              "Glad to see you're back with the living," he said
         warmly as he put the book down.  "You spaced out for a while.
         Never have understood how women do that but it must be
         wonderful."

              "It is," Lynda whispered.  "It is."

              "Good."

              "But I have to tell you that I'm not..."

              "Not a professional?"

              Lynda frowned.  "You knew?"

              "Of course.  I've seen your picture.  From Steve.  By
         the way, my name is Mark."

              "Hello, Mark.  Please excuse if I don't shake hands,"
         Lynda replied with a laugh in her voice.  She liked this man.

              "You're forgiven."

              "But if you knew I wasn't a...  Professional, why did
         you..."

              "Why did I make up that little story?  Well, I figured
         that if you liked what I did to you, you wouldn't mind.  And
         if you didn't like it , I'd just leave you tied down and
         gagged and let you think it was all a misunderstanding.  You
         did liked it, didn't you?"

              "It was the most wonderful thing I've every felt."

              "Good.  Do you want to be untied now?"

              Lynda paused before replying.  "What are my options?"

              "Well, I can untie you and we'll go our separate paths.
         Or I can leave you tied and replace the gag for Steve to find
         you whenever he returns.  He drinking again?"

              "Yes."

              "Or...  I can leave you tied down and rape you again."
         He smiled.  "Later I'll untie you and we'll go some place for
         a nice late dinner."

              Lynda found herself with two emotions.  One was a very
         strong attraction for to this man.  The other was a tingle
         and warmth beginning in her pussy.  Here was a man who had
         all the nice features of Steve without the bad.  And without
         the low sex drive.  She could see his rod was again standing
         upright, pointing at her.  She smiled back.  "I'll take
         option number three.  Rape away!"

              But as he was beginning to excite her captive body she
         had more practical thoughts.  "Are you good at tying a girl
         up?"

              "An expert."

              "Do you like it?  Ohhh, that's the right spot!"

              "Love it."

              "Are you married?"

              "Not any more."

              "Got a girlfriend?  Ohhhh...  That's nice."

              "Not right now."

              "Want one?  OOOOOOOHHHHHH!  OOOOHHHHHH!  TAKE ME!"

              "Okay."



                        The End


         THEEND



         Justice is Blind
         by John Savage

              "And would you tell the Court in your own words, Mrs.
         Markham, of the events that happened to you on the evening of
         July 24th at the hands of your husband?" asked Sleazer of
         Sleazer, Sleazer and Hardcore, the attorney representing the
         beautiful and well-built Mrs Markham.
              "Well, I was getting ready to go to bed when my husband
         tied me up and raped me!  He had me all tied up and took
         advantage of my helpless condition."
              "Mrs. Markham," interrupted the Judge.  "It would help
         these divorce proceedings if you could give myself and the
         jury a better idea of precisely what happened.  For example,
         can you tell us exactly how he tied you?"
              "Your Honor," interrupted Attorney Sleazer, "we have
         anticipated such questions and with Mrs. Markham's help have
         prepared an exhibit that will show you and the jury exactly
         what Mr. Markham did to his wife."
              "Proceed," said the Judge, agreeably.
              Attorney Sleazer motioned to an aide near the back of
         the courtroom who in turn opened the doors and disappeared
         for a second.  When he return he was escorting a beautiful
         brunette wearing baby-doll pajamas and had her arms bound
         behind her back.  They walked down the aisle to where
         Attorney Sleazer held open the low gate for her to approach
         the bench.
              "The exhibit you see is as an accurate a representation
         as can be made," Attorney Sleazer said.  The girl you see is
         a professional model chosen because her general size and
         build is very close to Mrs. Markham."  The judge leaned
         forward for a better look.  He had to agreed that this woman
         was indeed build very much like Mrs. Markham, both having
         larger than average breasts and very shapely legs.  Attorney
         Sleazer continued, "As you can see, Mr. Markham tied his
         wife's arms behind her back with the wrists crossed and the
         elbows linked by that rather tight winding of ropes here.  We
         have even tried to duplicate the condition of her clothing
         after his sexual assault.  This is Mrs. Markham's actually
         pajamas.  You will note the torn condition of the baby-doll,
         exposing one breast without shame."
              Turning to Mrs. Markham, he continued, "Would you please
         tell the court exactly what he did to you after he bound your
         arms in this cruel manner?"
              "Yes.  Well, he fondled my breasts for a while as
         I was standing there, still frozen in shock at the quickness
         with which he had tied my arms.  Then he messaged my...  My
         sexual parts until I was...  Well, until I was rather horny.
         Then he threw me on the bed and pulled off the bottom of my
         baby-doll."
              "Like this?" asked Attorney Sleazer as he pulled down
         the model's filly panties.  She cooperated by lifting each
         foot to allow him to remove them completely.  He lifted them
         high for all to see.
              "Yes.  And while I was laying there, nearly naked and
         helpless, he...  Well, what you said, he assaulted me."  She
         paused dramatically for several seconds then added, with a
         slight smile, "three times."
              "But this was not the end of his mistreatment of you,
         was it?" prompted Attorney Sleazer.
              "No.  When I came to after swooning, I found he had tied
         me another way.  It was terrible and most embarrassing."
              "If it pleases the court, I have prepared another
         exhibit to demonstrate this new and shameful bondage he
         subjected her to."  Attorney Sleazer motioned again and
         another girl was escorted into the courtroom and up to the
         judge's bench.  Exhibit A moved aside to stand by the jury
         box, only a few inches from the ogling eyes of twelve honest
         men and women.  Mostly men.
              This new exhibit was a blonde of the same shapely curves
         and large breasts of Mrs. Markham.  It had been difficult for
         her to make her way down the aisle because her legs were tied
         together at the ankles and knees.  She had to hop.  Her arms
         were also tied, behind her back and in a most cruel fashion.
         A harness of rope had been made by wrapping rope around each
         shoulder and across her back.  Her hands had then been pulled
         high up on her back, crossed and bound, both to each other
         and to the harness.  It was obvious that not only was it
         impossible for her to lower her hands, but that this position
         was very uncomfortable.  The tattered remains of a baby-doll
         was hanging from her shoulders, held on mostly by the rope
         harness.  Both breasts were sticking out in front and the
         nipples were erect.  There was no bottom to the pajamas.
              "You Honor will please note that at this point Mrs.
         Markham was so close to being naked as to hardly be called
         clothed.  Since Mr. Markham was left bound like this for a
         total of four hours, we tied this model in this manner before
         this morning's session about six hours ago so that
         she would reflect the same amount of pain and discomfort Mrs.
         Markham experienced."  He turned to Mrs. Markham.  "And
         please tell the court what he did to you while you were tied
         up like this."
              "He...  He whipped my bottom."
              "Like this?"  Attorney Sleazer withdrew the belt from
         his pants.  Without being told to, the model turned her back
         to the bench and bent over.  A swish and a crack sounded and
         the model jerked upright with a cry of pain.  "As your Honor
         can see, we have simulated the approximately two dozen
         strokes given to Mrs. Markham by a whipping given to this
         model right after she was tied."  He waved Exhibit B aside
         and she hopped off to stand by Exhibit A.  "Then what
         happened, Mrs. Markham?"
              "Well, after he whipped my bottom he made me kneel down
         and...  Well, a lady can hardly say such a thing out loud.
         He forced me to... to...  To perform an oral sexual act."
              The model was helped down to her knees where she bowed
         forward and lifted her head.  She made an "O" of her open
         mouth.
              "That's quite alright, Your Honor, you needn't come down
         from the bench.  If you'll return and zip your pants back up
         I'm sure we can arrange for a private demonstration of this
         part in your chambers.  Later.  Thank you.  Now, what
         happened after that."
              "Well, after he was satisfied he went to sleep on the
         couch and left me laying on the floor.  I think I stayed
         there for about four hours.  Then he woke up."
              "And what happened to you then?"
              "He untied my arms but tied me another way before I knew
         what was happening.  This time he tied me to some kind of
         wooden framework he had made in the garage."
              There was a commotion at the rear of the courtroom.
         "That's only my aides bring in Exhibit C.  We took the wooden
         framework from that garage to introduce as evidence." Three
         men were manhandling a large and bulky object down the aisle.
         Beyond the fact that it was taller than a man and about six
         feet long, nothing could be seen of the details because the
         whole thing was covered with a tarp.
              "What happened then, Mrs. Markham?"
              "When my husband finished tying me to that thing he...
         well he put a plastic vibrator inside my pussy and turned it
         on.  Then he left!"
              "How long did he leave you, Mrs. Markham?"
              "Until the next day.  About noon, I think it was."
              "Your Honor, we have again set up a demonstration of the
         exact torment Mrs. Markham was made to undergo.  We introduce
         Exhibit C."  With a flourish he pulled the tarp free.
              The framework was a rectangle.  The model was tied with
         arms and legs wide spread in an "X", each limb tied with rope
         and pulled extremely tightly towards one of the corners.  She
         was completely naked.  And she was completely upside down!  A
         wire ran from a couple of car batteries on the wheeled cart
         the framework rested on, up one side, over to the center top
         and then down, straight into the upturned pussy.  Nothing
         could be seen of the end of the wire but a humming noise and
         the twitching and jerkings of the girl's hips suggested that
         the mentioned vibrator was inside the model's pussy,
         vibrating its little heart out.  The girl's eyes were closed
         and her body was covered in a fine sweat.  Trembles passed
         along her taut legs muscles and along her belly.  Her hips
         rocked back and forth the few inches allowed her by the
         extremely tight bondage, approximating the sexual thrustings
         of a highly excited woman.
              "In the interests of accuracy we secured this model in
         the same manner as Mrs. Markham had been.  Including the
         vibrator.  She has been subject to this treatment for
         approximately the same six hours that Mrs. Markham was."
              At a wave of his hand the aides rolled the framework
         over to the jury box, placing it so that the front side of
         the naked and suspended girl, the one with all the good
         parts, was facing the jury.  Occasionally the upside down
         girl cried out soft moans of pleasure and shook her head but
         her eyes never opened and, although not gagged, she never
         once protested this harsh treatment nor begged to be let
         loose.
              "And then what happened, Mrs. Markham?" continued
         Attorney Sleazer.
              "Well, he came out to the garage and untied me.  He
         apologized for what he had done to me, blaming it on the fact
         that he was drunk at the time."
              "I'm sure your Honor and the ladies and gentlemen of the
         jury can see through these exhibits just how cruelly Mrs.
         Markham was treated at the hands of her husband."
              The judge and jury were certainly staring hard at the
         exhibits aligned before them.  Exhibit B had bent over so the
         jury could see her bruised bottom better.  Exhibit A was
         waving her exposed breast in the face of anyone she could get
         to pay attention.  Exhibit C just kept on moaning.
              "After experiencing this terrible treatment you felt you
         were forced to sue for divorce, right Mrs. Markham?"
              "Yes.  He did all those things to me and then said he
         was ashamed of how he had treated me and would never even
         dream of doing anything like that again.  Can you imagine,
         that brute absolutely refused to do any of that stuff to me
         again!  Of course I have to divorce the cad!"
                            The End


         Susan's Story -- Part I: Immobility
              The following is a letter written by Susan at my
         request.  Susan is a very real person and a sweet girl, and
         I have placed her in enough strict bondage to knew full well
         just how much she loves it.  I have cleaned up the spelling
         and grammar a bit but other than that this is Susan's story.
         I hope you enjoy it.

                                John Savage


          Dear People,

               My name is Susan and I was asked by John Savage if I
          would write to you and tell something about the way I enjoy
          being tied up.  I understand you are interested in
          submissive females.  I guess I qualify as one.  I'm female
          and I love to be tied up.  Maybe that sounds strange but I
          like it.  I'm not sure I can explain why but I do and that's
          all that I care about.

               My first heavy bondage experiences came when I was a
          college student, a junior majoring in English, and living in
          the dorms on campus.  My roommate, Nancy, understood my love
          of bondage and tied me up when we could get away with it.  A
          dorm room isn't always the most private of places so we
          worked it out that she only tied me up after most everyone
          had gone to bed and we weren't likely to get visitors or on
          a weekend when a lot of the students go home.  We were
          planning to get an apartment as soon as we could, but at
          that time we lived in the dorm.

               Nancy and I got to talking at the beginning of the year
          about sex and it sort of came out that I feel real sexually
          excited when I'm tied up.  I thought she would laugh but
          instead she said that she understood and would help me if I
          wanted.  We got some rope from a hardware store and began
          experimenting.  We did it at night with the lights out.  I
          would light a small candle so we had some light.  Usually I
          wore my panties only.  At first I used to wear a bathing
          suit or my panties and bra.  But after a while I got to
          wearing only a pair of panties and sometimes Nancy would
          tease my nipples after she'd made me all helpless.  But
          that's all she did.  She's not lesbian and I didn't mind.  I
          think back and am sure it would have been fun if she were,
          but back then I was so happy being well bound that I didn't
          mind the lack of other sexual attention.

               Anyway, we got to playing around.  At first she wasn't
          too good at tying me.  I'm kind of strong for a girl, and
          the first few times I could get out easily.  But Nancy
          learned that I don't mind being tied real tight.  She also
          learned that I'm serious about being tied.  I want it for
          real.  I mean, if I can get undone, what's the use of being
          tied?  So she got good at tying me until she tied real tight
          and I never got free, no matter how long I struggled.

              We found that what worked best was to tie me and leave
         me tied for long periods.  Since she didn't have sex with
         me, all the pleasure I got is from being tied.  And I like
         being tied up for long times, sometimes hours.  I have
         rather good circulation and can stand being tied for a very
         long time.  Nancy knew that and wasn't afraid that she'd
         hurt me or anything.

              Usually I got tied at night.  Since we didn't stay up
         real late but didn't dare get me tied until after about ten
         or so, we didn't have much time.  I mean, both of us would
         have been terribly embarrassed if someone were to come by to
         visit and find me tied, nearly naked, to a chair in the
         middle of the room.  Nancy wouldn't have liked it either and
         would probably never have tied me again.  We turned out the
         lights and I lit the small candle on my desk.  We made sure
         the door was locked and even put a piece of cloth along the
         bottom so that not even the candle light showed out.  Then I
         took off my clothes down to the panties.  Usually Nancy
         would ask me how I wanted to be tied.  My favorite ways are
         what they call a hog tie and being tied to something real
         solid.  I wished we had had a big, round wooden post in the
         middle of our room but we didn't.   Usually I got tied on my
         bed but sometimes to the chair.  I liked to struggle and
         that's why I liked to be tied to something solid, so I
         couldn't move much and couldn't make noise.  One of the best
         ways we found was for Nancy to tie my arms behind my back.
         She used the clothesline we bought and I hid in my suitcase.
         She pulled my arms together real tight, even making my
         elbows touch behind my back.  She always tied the knots up
         by my elbows, where my fingers couldn't reach them.

              After my arms are tied real tight I sat down in the
         chair.  We had metal chairs and they're pretty strong.  I
         put my arms over the back of the chair and Nancy tied a rope
         around my waist and the chair back.  Then she tied my left
         ankle to the left back chair leg.  Then my right ankle to
         the right chair leg in the back.  She tied the ankles up
         near the seat so that my legs are bent double and really
         forced up.  She tied them to the back of the chair so they
         couldn't slide down the metal chair leg.  I had to spread my
         legs real wide but that's okay.  Then she tied a rope from
         my wrists down under the chair and up the front.  She pulled
         that rope through the rope around my waist and back down to
         my wrists again.  Then back up to my waist where she tied
         it.  That pulled my arms down and prevented me from moving
         them from side to side or reaching for any of the knots on
         my ankles.  It also sort of locked my body against the chair
         back.

              After all that she was usually finished.  I was tied up
         pretty good and couldn't move much.  My legs couldn't move
         at all because of the way they were bent and tied to the
         back legs of the chair.  My arms couldn't move and my back
         was held against the back of the chair.  About the only
         things I could move were my head and feet and my fingers.
         It's a real way to be tied, let me tell you!  I remember
         that I began to feel helpless when she brought my first leg
         up and tied the ankle.  By the time she was finished, I was
         feeling real helpless and kind of tingling inside.

              Oh, I'll have to tell you about the time we tried to
         make me completely immobile.  Nancy tied me just as I've
         described but before she tied my hands behind me, we wrapped
         my hands with tape.  I made each hand into a fist and she
         wrapped what is called strapping tape around and around my
         hands until there was no way I could open my fists.  Then,
         after she tied my arms with the elbows touching, she wrapped
         more tape around both hands, taping the fists together.  I
         couldn't even wiggle my fingers!  Then, after I was tied to
         the chair in the usual fashion, she tied some cord around my
         big toes and pulled it back up to my elbows.  Can you imagine
         what I'm saying?  First off, my feet were pulled back and
         tied to the chair legs so that the bottoms of my feet were
         pointed back and sort of up.  Then she tied my big toes up
         towards my elbows so that I had to bend my feet into an arch
         that was downright painful.  But it keep my feet from
         moving.  I couldn't unbend my feet at all and since the big
         toes were pulled inward as well as up, I couldn't even move
         them from side to side.

              Then there came my head.  Normally I could move my head
         around.  Didn't do me any good but I could move it.  But
         that one night we were going to try and make it so I
         couldn't move at all and we had to do something about the
         head.  Nancy had a piece of round wood that we had screwed
         two metal rings into the ends of.  She put that in my mouth
         and tied cord to the two rings at the ends.  I'm sure you
         can guess what came next.  Those cords went down to my
         elbows and were pulled until my head was forced back.  I had
         to look up at the ceiling.  It held my head from moving
         forward or backward.  But we discovered that I could still
         shake my head somewhat from side to side.  For a while it
         looked like there was nothing that we could do but Nancy
         came up with an idea.

              I have pierced ears.  Nancy just put on me a pair of my
         earrings that are nothing more than gold hoops.  Then she
         tied a piece of cord to one earring and stretched it across
         the room to my desk where she tied it to one of the desk
         legs.  The other earring she tied cross the room to a leg of
         her bed.  She pulled both cords pretty hard until my ears
         were being pulled away from my head and hurt.  But it
         worked!  I couldn't shake my head from side to side because
         I would probably rip the flesh of my ear.

              So there I was.  My body was completely unmoving and
         unmovable.  I couldn't talk with that wood in my mouth so I
         was gagged.  I really felt helpless.  Nancy tickled me for a
         while.  That may not sound like much, but under the
         condition my poor body was in, it was torture! She even
         tickled my breasts a bit and I loved that.  Then she left me
         alone.  And I mean alone!  She actually left the room with
         me sitting there all helpless and hurting.  It was wonderful
         and terrible at the same time!  I could feel myself getting
         all hot and excited inside but couldn't do a thing.  Usually
         I can struggle some and, if Nancy was kind when she tied me,
         sometimes rub my private parts against something to get
         sexual satisfaction.  But that night I couldn't move a thing
         and it was terrible.  I was horny as hell but couldn't do a
         thing about it.  I wish I could say that I managed a climax
         just from the terrible helplessness but I didn't.  I need
         some contact with my private part.  It doesn't have to be
         much but it should be something.

              When Nancy came back I was terribly frustrated and
         hurting.  Of course, I was also exactly as she left me.
         After she untied me (about an hour total time from the
         moment she put the last knot in place to the time she
         started to untie me), I threw myself on my bed and
         masturbated like crazy.  I didn't even care if Nancy saw me
         doing it.

              But we did that only once.  Nancy agreed that we should
         try it again only this time go for two hours instead of one.
         She figured (and I was forced to agree) that if she just
         leaves me alone I'll have to set a new time record of two
         hours.  Or three hours.  Or whatever she wanted!

              Well, that explains about the time we tried to make me
         completely immobile.  I know it isn't the same reading about
         it as living it but I hope you enjoyed my story as much as
         I've enjoyed writing it for you.  It sure brought back
         memories for me!



                             Yours,

                             Susan

         Susan's Story -- Part II: The Hogtie


              The following is another story related to me by Susan,
         a real girl who has lived more bondage experiences than most
         people fantasize about.  She loves bondage and has been tied
         up more than anyone else I can think of.  And I should know,
         it has been my ropes around her many times.  Here she tells
         us more about her college days and an interesting hogtie.
                               John Savage


              My name is Susan and John insisted I write down some
         more about my experiences.  He promised that he would reward
         me with a nice tight hogtie while he read my letter and
         typed it into his computer.  And that reminded me of an
         interesting afternoon I once spent in a hogtie.
              If you read my first letter, you know that my first
         heavy bondage experiences came when I was a college student,
         at the hands of my roommate, Nancy.  She was a delightful
         girl to have a as a friend and understood my love of bondage
         completely.  She used to find the damnest ways for me to be
         tied up, usually in our dorm room and apartment but also all
         over the campus.
              Being that helpless is nice and one of the best ways to
         be tied is the hogtie.  Generally Nancy hogtied me on the
         bed.  That worked like this.  I got undressed.  She tied my
         arms behind me with the elbows touching.  Then I sat on the
         edge of the bed while she tied my ankles and above my knees.
         Then I rolled onto the middle of the bed on my stomach.  She
         tied my ankles up to my wrists until they are touching, that
         is, my fingers are spread wide and my palms pressed against
         the backs of my ankles.  But that wasn't all.  Then she tied
         a rope from my knees down the end of the bed and to the
         rails underneath.  Then she tied a loop of rope around my
         neck and down the top of the bed.  Those two ropes kept me
         stretched out and from struggling too much.  If I struggled
         from side to side, the rope around my neck tightened.
              That type of hogtie isn't too bad.  I can take it for
         hours on end.  But the longest time was one Sunday.  It was
         a holiday weekend and the dorms were pretty empty.  Nancy
         was going out on a date that day and would be gone all
         afternoon.  I asked her to tie me while she was gone.  I
         expected to be just tied arms behind me and legs together
         like we often did when she left me tied all night.  But
         instead she ordered me to strip naked, I mean completely
         naked, and then she hogtied me.  It was a good hogtie, the
         elbows were touching and my hands were tight against my
         ankles.  Even my knees were tight together.   Then she
         surprised me.  I had thought she was going to leave me on
         the bed.  I was pretty sure she wouldn't put a rope around
         my neck, we didn't do that when she left me alone.  But she
         rolled me onto the floor and I found myself laying on my
         stomach on the rough carpet.  Then she rocked me back and
         forth and sort of pulled me until she had me over to the
         closet.  She took out all the shoes and rocked me into the
         place under the clothes pole.  She took my clothes off the
         pole and put them on my bed.  I could look up and see the
         wooden pole and knew what she was going to do.  I was scared
         but excited!  How can I describe the terror and wonder and
         excitement at the thought of being made so extremely
         helpless and left alone?
              Nancy took a piece of rope and tied it to my elbow
         bondage.  She knotted it several times firmly then ran it up
         to the pole over me and back down to the elbows.  There she
         pulled until I could feel my elbows being pulled slightly
         up.  Then she knotted the rope several more times and left
         me.  A little experimentation showed me how helpless I was.
         I could struggled.  I could even rock from side to side a
         bit.  But I couldn't roll over on my side and I couldn't
         crawl (a nearly impossible thing when hogtied like that
         anyway).  I couldn't move more than an inch or so in any
         direction before that rope connecting my elbows to the pole
         stopped me.  I was so deliciously helpless!
              I struggled.  Then I rested.  Then I struggled again.
         They were serious struggles.  I can't just pretend.  When I
         struggle I really try to get free with all my might.  But I
         was helpless.  I figured later that she left me about eleven
         in the morning.  She didn't come home from her date until
         well after dinner, about nine that night -- ten hours in a
         helpless hogtie!
              I was exhausted when she opened the door and turned on
         the light.  I was in pain.  I had also experienced about a
         dozen orgasms, entirely from struggling against the ropes
         and rubbing my breasts and pussy against the rough carpet.
         Nancy told me that her date wanted her to spend the night at
         his apartment and she was going to but that she told him she
         had to pick up some things back at her dorm room.  She said
         she didn't think it would have been good to leave me all day
         and then all night.  She untied me, grabbed a change of
         underwear and left.  I was a naked, exhausted, pile of flesh
         and rope on the floor.  But I was happy.
              I don't mean to say I was excited and turned on and
         enjoying every minute of it.  Far from it!  There were times
         during that ten hours and in bondage since when I truly
         wished I were free.  There was pain, real pain.  My
         shoulders hurt so much that I could hardly bring my arms
         around in front of my body when she untied me.  There were
         many times (between orgasms) when I cursed myself for every
         letting such things happen to me.
              But I still go back and ask again.  And come up with
         even wilder, more cruel, heavier bondage for Nancy or anyone
         to put me in.  Does that make sense? I don't think so but I
         also don't care.  I know what I like.  I know what I need.


         Hanging Upside Down and the Feather

         an excerpt from "Dragon's Lair"

         a novel by John Savage

              Close call, she told herself.  "Young Reporter Becomes
         White Slave," was almost the headline.  After her pulse
         slowed to somewhere close to normal, Lynn went the the
         center of the room where the redhead had so recently been
         fixed.  Fascinated, she stared at the hanging chain and the
         wooden triangle.  So simple, yet so effective at causing
         discomfort and pain.  She put one foot on the wooden
         triangle and reached up to grab the hanging chain with one
         hand.  Her other hand reached behind her and grabbed her
         right foot as it bend back and up.

              Even through the rubber soles of her shoes she could
         feel the sharp edge.  For a minute she held the position,
         noting the stress on her right thigh, wondering what it
         would be like to have to stand there, to really have one
         wrist handcuffed to the chain and the other wrist
         handcuffed to the opposite ankle behind her back, not just
         playing make-believe like now.  And to stand for an hour,
         alone, held by cruel, heartless metal, muscles aching.  Then
         a second hour.  Would a third be possible?  Would she have
         any choice?  Of course not.  She would stand and stand and
         stand until some other individual, some savior, came to free
         her from the clutch of hard metal.

              Lynn let go and dropped her leg.  She shook her head.
         Three hours that girl had been left in this tortous position!
         The word agony came to her mind.

              She left the room to find the hallway empty.  For a
         second Lynn considered getting out of there as fast as she
         could.  One good scare should be enough to teach any
         reasonable young girl a lesson.  But she was a reporter and
         never claimed to be reasonable.  Her consideration of escape
         lasted only long enough for her to realize that there were
         major elements still missing from her story.  Like who the
         white slavers were and where they got their girls from.  And
         where did they send them to?

              The next door led to another small room.  In the center
         was a single metal pole coming up from the floor and ending
         a little over three feet later.  It was topped with a huge
         rubber penis.  There were two small rings attached to the
         base of the pole.  It didn't take Lynn long to figure out
         that a girl could be made to straddle that dildoe, to be
         lowered onto it until it was up inside her....   If her
         ankles were tied to those rings...  Well, the girl wouldn't
         be walking away, that was for sure.

              Lynn stood by the pole and measured it against her
         body.  She would have to stand on her toes but it wouldn't
         be too bad.  If her hands were tied behind her and her
         ankles secured to those rings...  Lynn shuddered a little at
         the thought.  She would be very helpless, unable to step off
         that upthrusting pole.  And that huge dildoe, molded into a
         good likeness of a male organ, would certainly fill up her
         pussy, fill it like no human penis had ever done.  Lynn was
         no virgin but not a prostitute either.  She had seen a few
         male rods, but never one quite like this.  It wasn't the
         length so much as it was the width.  It would certain make
         her feel filled.  And, unlike its human model, this penis
         would never go limp.

              Lynn sighed.  There had been a few times where the
         human flesh had been a little weak and Lynn had lost out on
         some good love-making just when she was most ready for it.
         Those times she would have wished her lover had the
         staying-power of this rubber monster.

              Tearing herself away from that line of thinking, Lynn,
         checked the hallway and went out the door.

              The next door was a the end of the hallway and didn't
         open into another torture room as she had expected it to.
         Instead it revealed an observation room.  There was four
         empty, comfortable chairs, leather covered and very plush.
         The chairs faced three large windows set into an otherwise
         blank wall.  The arrangement allowed a person to sit in any
         of the chairs and view what was going on in any of three
         rooms on the other side of those window.  And there was
         certainly activities going on to watch.

              Lynn's first reaction was to retreat before anyone on
         the other side of the glass saw there.  But before she
         turned to go something caught her attention.  Each of the
         three rooms revealed seemed dark, darker than they should be
         if one allowed for the normal levels of light the humans
         liked.  Then it dawned on her; these were one-way mirrors!
         She could see easily into the other rooms, but they would
         see only a mirror even if they looked directly at her.

              Assured of concealment for the present, Lynn approached
         the first window on the left.  There were two girls in that
         room, and Lynn had trouble believing what they were doing.
         One of the girls was of Mexican ancestry.  Her hair was long
         and shiny black and her skin was chocolate.  Because she was
         naked, Lynn could see that she had the large breasts and
         muscular legs of many of the young Mexican girls.  Lynn
         guessed her age at no more than nineteen.

              The other girl was kind of plain, a mousy looking woman
         in her mid-twenties, her hair halfway between brown and
         blonde, her figure slender but not remarkable.  She was also
         nude.  Her breasts were only medium sized but held good
         firmness and shape.  Her muscle tone was good, Lynn guessed
         that she played tennis once a week.  A typical, average sort
         of woman.  The kind you see hundreds of times on the street
         or in a supermarket and never give a second thought to.

              But it was the mousy little one who was free and the
         muscular, larger girl who was bound up and helpless.  The
         raven haired girl was hanging upside down, her ankles lashed
         to a pole, which forced her legs wide apart.  The center of
         the pole had a ring bolted to it and a steel cable hooked to
         the ring.  On the ceiling was an electric motor and hoist.
         That explained how the heavy girl had been pulled up until
         her head was a good three feet off the floor.  Her arms were
         bound behind her back with the wrists facing each other and
         the elbows tied.  The elbows weren't touching but the
         clothesline was cutting so deep into the flesh just above
         the elbows that Lynn was convinced that who ever had done
         the bondage had tried very hard to make the elbows touch.
         That they fell two inches short of that goal was the fault
         of the solid build of the Mexican girl, not the efforts of
         the binder.

              Neither girl showed the slightest interest in Lynn's
         direction so she walked up right to the window to watch.
         The mousy brunette circled the hanging girl, one hand
         lightly touching her body here and there.  Every time she
         touched, the hanging girl jerked the body away.  Lynn looked
         closer then she laughed.  The hanging girl wasn't struggling
         to escape the sharp attention of a needle, nor the burning
         sensations of a red-hot poker.  She was jerking to avoid a
         feather!

              It seemed funny to Lynn at first but the more she
         thought about it the more it made sense.  Being helpless and
         tickled could be real torture.  Especially for someone who
         was very sensitive.  Lynn remembered being tickled by her
         cousin while he sat on her.  That hadn't lasted too long but
         it was bad enough.  Who knows how long this tickling had
         been going on?  Or how much more sensitive your body became
         when completely naked and hanging upside down?

              The brunette continued to circle the tormented girl.
         The feather danced over the exposed body, seeking and
         finding the most sensitive spots, the tenderest nerves.  The
         large breasts, strangely shaped by the reversed gravity,
         were a favorite target, as were the smooth insides of the
         velvet brown thighs.  With each jerk the long black hair
         swayed and danced in the space between the girl's head and
         the floor.

              As one hand teased with that horrid feather, the other
         unashamedly toyed and stroked the brunette's pussy.  She was
         enjoying this work.

              Lynn watched, sensing that the drama had been building
         for sometime and was approaching a climax, perhaps in more
         ways than one.

              Another turn around the hanging body and the brunette
         stopped.  The feather fell, unnoticed.  Both girls were
         breathing hard although Lynn could hear nothing on her side
         of the glass.  She had noticed they were talking before this
         but had been unable to make out any words.  The two girls
         held hard eye-contact for several long heart beats, both
         with their legs wide spread and braced, one firmly on the
         ground, the other hanging upside down.  Then the hanging
         girl slowly closed her eyes.  The muscles in her ass began
         clenching and relaxing, thrusting her hips gently forward
         the few inches this strained position allowed them.

              The scene remained static; the only movement was the
         slow swaying of the hanging girl as her hips thrust and
         relaxed, an indication of the burning within.  Slowly her
         eyes opened again.  They met the brunette's again and held.
         Tormentor and tormented.  But there was a bond between them:
         both woman had bodies that burned with desire, ached for
         release.

              The brunette stepped forward and lowered her mouth over
         the inverted pussy.  Lower down the raven haired head lifted
         and buried itself between the brunette's thighs.  She spread
         them a little more to allow easier access then clamped her
         hands on the chocolate girl's ass.  She dug her nails in
         like a wild animal.  In a silent frenzy of passion both
         females lashed each other's clits with their tongues,
         driving each other wilder and wilder.

              For a long time the frenzied love-making continued as
         Lynn watched, fascinated.  It looked as if every muscle in
         both bodies were rock hard rigid.  The hanging girl's hands
         were clenched fists one second and fluttering fingers the
         next.

              But nothing lasts forever.  The brunette's head jerked
         up and she moaned her passion so loud that it came faintly
         through the thick glass to Lynn.  Then she fell to the floor
         where she curled up into a ball on the carpet.

              Lynn had to remember to breath.  She was surprised to
         find that she had been digging her fingernails into the
         wooden window edge.  Taking a deep breath, she shook her
         head to break the spell.  What an incredible show!  Lynn had
         never considered herself a lesbian but she was not a sexual
         innocent; she had seen two woman making love before and
         thought it interesting but little more.  But this was
         something else!  The intensity of their passion came through
         the dim glass like a physical blow.  Lynn had never seen
         anything quite like that before.

              The brunette remained on the floor, shivers playing
         over her naked body as she hugged herself, eyes closed, off
         in a private world of ecstasy.  The hanging girl arched her
         body and trembled all over for long minutes before quieting
         down.  Her eyes stayed close and her head swayed back and
         forth in dreamy circles, the tips of her long black just
         brushing the thigh of the girl on the floor.

              Lynn took a step back.  She didn't know what to think.
         Was this punishment?  If so, that Mexican girl didn't look
         very punished.  She looked as if she were deep in sexual
         satisfaction.  A reward?  Both?  Or maybe just part of the
         training?

              Lynn went to the second window and another scene from a
         madman's B&D fantasy...



                                   The End
         Hot August Day

         an excerpt from "The Bondage Master" by John Savage



              There was not the slightest hint of a breeze under the
         blazing summer sun.  I felt as if I were baking in my clothes
         but Laura probably felt worse as she stood in the direct
         sunlight wearing only a pair of high heel shoes.  Well, the
         shoes and some cotton clothesline that held her arms firmly
         secured behind her back with many cunning turns and knots far
         from the searching fingers.  I had bound her almost half an
         hour before and she had worked at the ropes nervously for all
         that time, twisting this way and that, trying to bring her
         arms in front of her body, trying anything that might allow
         her to escape her fate.  But that hot summer afternoon escape
         was not for her.  I paused by the car to look over the
         landscape, including the naked and bound girl I had brought
         into it.

              It was California desert, mostly sand with ragged rocks
         and a few stunted shrubs here and there.  The only signs of
         man were the automobile beside us and the road we had
         followed to her get here, little more than a track across the
         hot earth.  Laura stood beside me and looked nervous.  She
         couldn't say a thing because of the ball gag filling her
         mouth and securely strapped behind her head.  Keeping her
         from verbally changing her mind was a part of the game, a
         part of keeping her helpless and obedient to my wishes, no
         matter how the beautiful and very sexy woman might suffer.
         Laying in bed last night the idea of a desert bondage hike
         had seemed amusing to both of us but in this relentless heat
         she was having a great many second thoughts.  She saw me
         looking at her, eyeing her lush body, and shook her head.  I
         pretended to not see her negative and fetched a couple pieces
         of rope from the backseat.  She made whining sounds through
         her gag and came close to me.  She rubbed her body against
         mine, teasing my shirt front with her erect nipples in a need
         born not entirely from sexual hunger.  She was offering me
         the only thing she had to barter with.  I'm sure she would
         have been pulling down my zipper had not her arms been bound
         tightly behind her back.  I'm sure she figured that if I were
         to have sex with her right then I would loose the desire to
         leave her alone in this hostile environment.

              But she was lacking in bargaining power.  I would have
         taken her right there on the burning sand if I had been so
         inclined.  But, being the perverted individual I am, I
         figured she would enjoy a bit of sex much more after having
         undergone her ordeal.  I know I would.  I shook my head
         slightly and she knew her invitation had been turned down.

              Then she bend over from the waist, bowing her head down
         until it was the level of my fly and giving me a fine view of
         her bound arms.  I noted how the ropes had dug into the flesh
         just above her elbows and again below them.  The ropes were
         still very tight and firmly double and triple knotted, all up
         by the elbows were the fingers could never reach.  Laura
         nuzzled her gagged mouth against my pants in an offer that
         could hardly be misinterpreted.  But I could have easily made
         her give me a blow job, on her knees in the hot sand, her
         mouth paying homage to my maleness.  Then strap her ball gag
         back into her mouth and go on with my plans.  And she knew
         it.  After a few moments she rose with a delicious whimper of
         defeat.

              I looped her hips and wrists with a rope and wrapped a
         dozen turns, pinning her wrists against her butt.  Then I
         cinched that rope down with turns between her arms and body
         and more running down between her legs and up to her tummy.
         The rope looped over her tummy rope there and passed back
         between those lovely legs to her wrists.  A few turns there
         secured the tension I wanted.  But I had left about two feet
         of rope which I used to bring the end up to her elbows where
         the final three or four knots secured it.  I had been careful
         to pull apart her vagina lips so that the two ropes passed on
         either side of her clit.  In the finished product those ropes
         were invisible, buried under her lips and crushing her clit
         between them.  It would be an interesting hike for Laura.

              But Laura was young and healthy, a girl well able to
         take vigorous treatment as I had proven numerous times.  And
         just walking along a desert road, even with crotch ropes,
         would hardly be a challenge.  I walked around behind her as
         she stood nervously looking at me.  Her long black hair had
         been framing her lovely face and descending all the way to
         her erect nipples.  I pulled it back over her shoulders and
         carefully braided it into a single pigtail but one that came
         out high up where a ponytail would have.  Along with the soft
         hair I braided two stands of rope so that the hair and rope
         were intertwined firmly.  Then I passed the ends of rope down
         to her wrists and between the sweaty palms of her hands and
         back up to the elbows.  There I pulled gently until her head
         arched backwards.  As I kept the tension with one hand, I
         used the other to pull her forehead back until she was
         staring almost straight up.  I knotted the rope and stood
         back.

              It was a beautiful sight, a beautiful woman hardly out
         of her teens but of full and ripe body, cruelly bound.  I
         traced the line of her upturned throat down to the full and
         rigid nipples.  I cupped one heavy breast in a hand as if
         weighing it.  It was quite firm, almost as if straining to
         explode outward from her chest, so effective was the elbow
         bondage coupled with pulling the head back.  I noted a fine
         sheen of sweat on her breasts as they stood proudly in the
         bright sunlight.  She was beautiful!

              "You know the way we came," I stated as I checked the
         ankle straps on her four inch high heels.  "Just walk back
         that way.  I'll be waiting for you somewhere between here and
         the highway."  A whine of protest.  "I know that's about ten
         miles, but I won't be right at the highway so you'll only
         have to walk something less than that."

              A noise that sounded as if she might be trying to say,
         "I can't see."

              "Turn your head to the side," I commanded.  She knew
         better than to refuse.  When she turned her head she could
         see to her side, not downward but straight out as the rope
         and hair held her head very limited in its motion.  I knew
         that she would be able to follow the road.  It wouldn't be
         easy with her head bound like that but it would be possible.
         And she knew it.

              There was nothing more to say so I got in the car.  I
         drove slowly for a few yards then stopped to look back.
         Laura was turned sideways to me, her whole body shaking
         slightly, whether from anger, frustration or laughter I did
         not know.  I watched her first tentative steps on a road that
         treacherously alternated between hard earth and soft sand.
         As I drove away I was sure glad that I was a man and not
         subject to such ordeals.  Leave the torment to submissive
         women like Laura, they love and deserve it.

              I waited about half a mile away, the distance I figured
         would take her about an hour to walk.  If she didn't fall
         down too often.  I wondered how she would be able to get up
         with her arms gone and head pulled so cruelly back.  And
         with those ridiculously high heels.  I figured to wait two or
         three hours then go back and pick her up if she didn't make
         it by then.  I'd probably find her laying on the road unable
         to get back to her feet.

              It was hot and miserable.  Even the water I had brought
         was hot as I drank it.  Nothing moved in that harsh
         landscape, there was little sound beyond some kind of bird
         off to the left.  I never did see the bird.  It was so hot
         the lizards and snakes were hiding under rocks.  Sensible
         creatures.

              Laura was walking straight ahead when she came around
         the turn.  I watched her walk a dozen steps then turn to see
         what she could of the road before walking another dozen
         steps.  As she got close I could see dirt sticking to her
         sweaty body and knew she had fallen.  When she saw the car
         she made the mistake of trying to run.  I watched amused as
         she lay in the sand a dozen feet from me.  It was delightful
         to watch her struggles as she sought to regain her feet.  She
         walked the last few feet slowly and planted her legs wide
         spread when she was only an arm's length away.  She was
         breathing hard and I could have watched those magnificent
         breasts rise and fall forever.  Needless to say all the ropes
         were still on and tightly in place.  Her body language, what
         there was of it to see in such bondage, spoke of defiance.
         She had met and conquered the challenge and demanded that I
         recognize her triumph.

              Well, I did.  Dropping my fly, I exposed a rod large
         enough and rigid enough to satisfy a herd of cheerleaders.
         Too bad Laura couldn't see it with her head pulled back.  But
         I took her and roughly pushed her down to the patch of sand
         where the shadow of the car had cooled it down a bit.  Laura
         knew me, knew what was coming, and wanted it as bad as I did.
         When I lowered her to her back she arched her body up until
         she was on her head and shoulders and her feet.  Her pussy
         was arched up most invitingly and her legs spread wide as her
         high heels dug into the sand until her feet almost
         disappeared.  She was making pitiful little moaning sounds
         behind the ball gag.

              It was a beautiful sight, a masterpiece of submission
         that would bring an erection to any male.  I considered
         leaving her like that, pleading for the sexual satisfaction
         she hungered for, just to tease her, a form of torture I had
         often inflicted upon this and other helpless girls.  But,
         well, what the hell, the girl did deserve some reward.
         Besides, my prick ached so much it hurt.  I pulled apart the
         crotch ropes so they no longer covered that wonderful love
         tunnel and rammed home that female-pleasing tool.

              It was short but brutal.  I don't know which of us was
         more vigorous in our thrustings and don't really care.  I
         remember locking my arms around her hips and ramming for all
         I was worth.  It wasn't long before we both exploded into
         giant fireworks.  I think both of us cried out.

              I came back to my senses laying in the hot sand beside a
         beautiful package of woman flesh and ropes.  Her legs were
         wide spread and the body no longer arched but laying on her
         bound arms.  Her eyes were closed.  I though I could see a
         satisfied smile but that's hard to tell with her mouth filled
         with rubber ball.  In slow motion I crawled between her legs
         and pulled the crotch ropes back into place on either side of
         her clit and watched the vagina lips close over the cotton
         clothesline.  Then I helped her to her feet.  She was swaying
         slightly and kept her eyes closed.  Zipping up my fly with
         one hand, I patted her bottom with the other and told her I'd
         be waiting another mile down the road and that I figured we
         could do this for maybe eight miles before we'd be too close
         to the highway.

              Laura moaned deliciously and began walking.



                              The End
         The Date

         An excerpt from "The Adventures of a Bondage Lover"
         by Sharon Bonner as told to John Savage


              One of the most unusual dates I ever went on was not
         even my date but Monique's, my roommate.  At that time I was
         twenty-one and sharing an apartment with another girl named
         Monique.  We had discovered pretty fast that we both had a
         very deep love of bondage.  This meant that we both spent a
         fair amount of time in some form of restraint around the
         apartment.  We were both basically submissive in that we both
         preferred to be the one tied up rather than doing the tying
         but were willing to do the binding chores because it meant
         that next time we would be tied by the other.  And like there
         were some pretty fancy ways that we tied each other up.  We
         tried to outdo each other in dreaming up fantastic bondage
         games to do to each other.

              Well, this one weekend Monique told me that she had a
         new bondage position she wanted to try on me and I, being the
         biggest sucker ever born, said sure.  We went into the
         bedroom.  At Monique's suggestion I shed my clothes, not a
         long operation as we rarely wore much around the apartment.
         In fact, it wasn't uncommon for both of us to be walking
         around naked.  We were both good looking girls and had very
         nice bodies and enjoyed looking at each other.  Well, we
         enjoyed other things with each other besides looking but
         that's private.

              Monique began by tying my wrists together behind me,
         palm to palm.  Then she tied the elbows so that they touched.
         It's lucky that my elbows can easily touch behind my back
         because I get them tied that way so often.  Oh, it does get
         to hurting after a few hours but I can (and have) been tied
         with them crushed together for six hours or more.  With my
         arms well tied with clothesline behind my back, Monique
         brought out one of the ball gags and stuffed it inside my
         mouth.  Those things aren't too comfortable and taste
         terrible but they sure do keep a girl quiet.  With the ball
         strapped tightly and deeply in my mouth I can say nothing and
         make very little in the way of noise, but Monique didn't seem
         to think that was enough.  She placed wide white tape over my
         mouth, crossing it in an X shape and plastering the whole
         lower half of my face.  Then she wrapped an elastic bandage
         around the bottom half of my face very tightly.  The effect
         was to keep sound inside my mouth and there was nothing I
         could do about it.

              I was then set down on the edge of a chair and my legs
         tied.  She used our favorite cotton clothesline to bind my
         ankles together and my legs just above and below the knees.
         She helped me to my feet and stood back to survey her
         handiwork.  There was nothing too unusual about the way I was
         tied, we had both been tied that way many times.   Of course
         the gag was a little bit more severe than usual but the
         bondage was normal.

              Then came the unusual part.  She slide back the closet
         door and pointed to the end wall.  The clothes and shoes had
         been cleared away from that end and I could see a series of
         metal rings that had been screwed into the wooden wall.  The
         intent wasn't hard to figure out.  I hopped over to the
         closet, my big breasts bouncing with each jump.  When you've
         had as much practice as I have, you can hop all around the
         apartment with your legs tied.  Monique positioned me with my
         back against the wood.  Then she began to tie my body to the
         wall.

              The metal rings were set in pairs, one on each side of
         my naked body.  Each pair was very close to my body (Monique
         must have measured carefully for a good fit) and was rope
         passing from one ring to the other was used to secure my body
         firmly against the wall.  It took a while but when she was
         finished there were ropes holding my ankles to the wall.
         Also above my knees, below them, my thighs, my hips, my
         waist, above and below my breasts, and another at my neck.
         Believe me, this girl was not going anywhere!

              But there was one set of rings left and those were just
         above my eye level.  Monique had a cute way of keeping my
         head from moving.  She had a piece of leather about an inch
         wide with a ring riveted into each end.  She tied one end's
         ring to the metal ring in the wall.  Then she turned my head
         so that the side was resting against the wall.  The leather
         strip passed over my head, the lower edge just covering the
         top part of my vision.  The other end was tied to the ring on
         the other side by a small piece of rope.  It was tight but
         not uncomfortable, and it prevented me from turning my head.
         I would be standing there and looking out into the bedroom
         until Monique decided otherwise.  And I didn't like the look
         in her eyes.  She kissed me, teased my breasts a bit then
         announced that she was going to take a shower to get ready
         for her date that night.  Then she disappeared in the
          direction of the bathroom.

              I sighed and began to explore the limits of my bondage.
         Monique tended to take long showers and I figured I was going
         to be standing in this closet at least until she was ready to
         walk out the door for her date.  I tried to turn my head but
         my first suspicion was right, the strap held my head against
         the wall.  I wiggled and pulled against the ropes but Monique
         was entirely too good with the knots and cords.  I couldn't
         work at my wrists because of my arms being pressed against
         the wall. I couldn't even try to work my legs back and forth
         to loosen the ropes above my knees.  In short, I was stuck,
         plaster against the wall and one helpless girl.

              For a long time, during which my horniness increased
         (I just love ropes holding my body helpless), I just stood
         there and experienced frustration.  And there was nothing I
         could do about it.  There was certainly no way my fingers
         could be brought around to the front where they could do
         something about his sexual itch.  And my breasts were out of
         my touch.  I could just see the nipples out of the bottom of
         my vision, standing erect and rigid, betraying the inner
         excitement.

              Eventually Monique came back into my view, freshly wet
         and naked.  She took her time drying off her body right were
         in front of me, pretending she didn't even know I was there,
         displaying its fine curves and fun places.  I'd done the same
         thing to her more than once but that didn't make it any less
         frustrating right then.

              Then she did something that left a cold spot in the pit
         of my stomach.  She straightened the bed.  Then she placed
         two candles on the headboard.  She picked up the towel and
         any other loose things so the room was clean and neat.  Then
         she placed a length of clothesline on the headboard.  She
         slide the closet door closed on me.  But not quite.  She left
         a little crack open, a crack just where my head was, a crack
         that allowed me to see most of the bed.  And a crack that was
         small enough so that no one could really see me in the
         closet, especially if the only light was from two small
         candles.  Her hand reached in and squeezed my right breast
         affectionately.  Then she was gone.

              I sighed.  Her diabolical plan was clear.  Take one
         heavy date with the ever-horny Ted, add a romantic candle lit
         bedroom and a gorgeous dish like Monique who's also pretty
         much always horny herself.  Then add another roommate who's
         completely naked and bound in the closet so thoroughly that
         she can't move or make a sound.  She can only stand and watch
         the show.

              It was about two hours before I heard the sound of the
         front door.  There was voices and laughing.  Then there was a
         silence that I was sure marked a long, passionate kiss and
         the beginning of foreplay.  Sure enough, there came Monique
         to light the candles and turn on the stereo to very soft
         music.  She was followed quickly by Ted who began unziping
         her dress.  True to the harlot's code, she wore no bra or
         panties, enabling Ted to get right down to business.  Soon
         his clothes were flying off and they jumped into bed,
         laughing and giggling like school kids.

              Ted could hardly miss the rope laying in plain sight on
         the headboard.  He inquired about.  She lied about it.  He
         picked it up.  She hinted that some men are man enough to
         keep their girls bound up like little slavegirls.  He lunged
         at her.  She dodged but not too far.  They wrestled on the
         bed, naked bodies and rope bouncing all over the place.
         Monique's hands got tied behind her back.  She protested with
         a giggle.  He grabbed a breast and ignored her mild protests.
         He slid that huge male rod inside her.  Her protests turned
         to moans.  I was dying.

              Can you imagine the frustration I felt?  Here I was,
         already horny from two hours of being tightly bound, unable
         to even touch myself, and forced -- yes, forced -- to watch
         a couple do the sex act!  And several times!  In several
         different, highly imaginative positions, one of which I would
         have sworn was impossible for a girl with her hands tied
         behind her back.  As Monique's excitement rose to a fever
         pitch, so did mine.  The difference was she had a hung male
         to ram it to her, I had tight ropes and nothing inside my
         hot, juicy pussy.  I swore by the Great Horny Toad that I
         would get that girl and torture her!  I would find ant hills
         to tie her to, I would find four horse to draw and quarter
         her, I would hang her by her thumbs until she screamed for
         mercy!  And then I would get mean.

              Needless to say, I strained, pulled and jerked at my
         bonds but they held.  Tiny, pitiful moans escaped my nose to
         harmonize with the loud gasps and moans of ecstasy Monique
         was filling the bedroom with.  Then, in perfect coordination
         with her third orgasm, I hit on it!  It was simple and I'm
         sure Monique hadn't thought of it.  And it worked.  I dug my
         fingernails into my ass, both hands, as hard as I could.
         Then I exploded into fireworks and skyrockets.

              Later, hanging limp in my dark little prison, I came
         back to life.  My ass was sore but, gawd, I felt good.
         Monique and her boyfriend lay exhausted on the bed, her hands
         still tied.  For a long time we all rested.  But finally I
         saw his hand creep over to cup her breast and knew that the
         recuperative powers of the young had worked their miracle.
         Monique leaned over and kissed him.  Then she told him
         sweetly that there was more rope in the drawer and that
         perhaps he would like to tie her legs spread ever sooooo wide
         to the legs of the bed.  As he dove for the rope, Monique
         turned in my direction and gave me a wink.  It was going to
         be a long night!



                                 The End
         The Experiment

         an excerpt from "Bondage Tales" by John Savage


              The weather was hot outside but inside the air
         conditioning blew cold air at me, making the sweat stick to
         my skin.  I made my way to Dr. Wayward's office and entered.
         He was waiting for me with his usual silly grin.  We got
         right down to the experiment without delay.

              I went through the inner door to the experiment lab.
         In there the temperature had been set to a more reasonable
         degree, neither hot nor cold.  I unbuttoned my light summer
         dress and peeled it off.  Dr. Wayward didn't seem surprised
         to see that was wearing no bra.  My panties and shoes went
         next, leaving me standing there, naked and smiling.

              Dr. Wayward put the harness on my body, being careful
         to place the wide leather strap squarely between my legs and
         buckling up the cross straps tightly around my body.  There
         were two rings sticking up at my shoulders but otherwise
         everything was buckled down nice and tight.  I made sure
         each strap fitted comfortably as the doctor went back to his
         cabinet.

              The good doctor came over carrying a piece of rope in
         his hands and I knew what to do.  I put my hands behind my
         back with the wrists together.  He wrapped the cotton
         clothesline around my wrists several times then ran some
         rope counter to those to cinch them down.  He tied the
         knots up and inside where I couldn't reach them with my
         fingers.  Then he fetched the leather sheath that fitted
         over my arms so that they were encased in leather from the
         fingertips to the armpits.  Two straps went over my
         shoulders and secured the sheath so there was no way it
         could slide down.  During the first experiment he had me
         struggled as hard as I could to make sure the sheath
         couldn't loosen or come down.  I remember jumping around the
         lab, wiggling my arms and twisting every which way to try
         and get my arms free.  But the leather sheath had been
         designed well and I was convinced that I could never get it
         off without outside help.

              After the sheath came the gag.  He used, as he always
         did, a piece of rubber that was wedge shaped and tasted
         vaguely of disinfectant.  After the wedge was firmly in my
         mouth he placed the strap around my head and buckled it
         behind me so that it held the wedge solidly in place.  My
         mouth was slightly open and my tongue pressed down.  I knew
         from previous tests that I could utter no word, and hardly
         any sound would even come out were I to try to scream.  The
         gag is followed by two plugs pushed into my ears that cut
         off all hearing.

              Dr. Wayward positioned me under the hoist and connected
         the two hooks to the rings on my shoulders.  Then he placed
         the padded blindfold around my head so that I couldn't see
         the slightest bit of light.  But it was comfortable.  Then I
         could feel him fitting the hood over my head.  It was also
         made of leather and covered the entire head very snugly.
         That was mainly because of the laces that ran down the back
         from almost the crown of my head to my neck allowed him to
         tighten it until it was molded to my features.  There was a
         wide, thick leather strap attached to the bottom of the hood
         and that was buckled down firmly around my neck.  I doubted
         that I could have gotten the hood off even if I had my hands
         free, which was certainly not the case.

              With my head completely encased save for my nose
         sticking out, and my arms locked in their leather prison, I
         heard the whine of an electrical hoist and felt myself
         rising into the air.  When my feet were off the floor he
         stopped the hoist and I swung there for a minute.  Then he
         returned and I felt the ropes going on my legs.

              The doctor always ties my legs exactly the same way.
         First there is the rope around my ankles.  When that is
         knotted down, there comes around some windings around my
         legs just above the knees.  He wraps the rope around my legs
         very carefully then ever so slowly passes the rope between my
         thighs and down and between my legs and back up until he has
         half a dozen wrapping as cinch ropes.  Then he ties the
         knots.

              At that point I'm pretty well tied up and not going
         anywhere.  But he's not finished with me.  I can't hear it
         but I know he's getting the large leather bag positioned
         under me.  Then I feel the leather being pulled up my legs.
         It goes up until it is over my hips.  Then it gets a little
         tighter and he has to work it up a bit at a time until the
         top of the bag is under my chin.  I call it a bag but it is
         more like a suit, custom made to fit my body.  There are
         laces running from half way between my ankles and knees up
         to my neck.  He starts at the bottom and works the laces
         upward, tightening each part as he goes and working the
         slack out completely.  By the time he ties the knots under
         my chin I am covered totally with another skin of leather.
         Even my arms, already covered in leather and securd by rope,
         are included under this suit.

              One might think that this would be enough.  But the
         doctor wants complete immobility and he gets it.  First
         there are straps that go around my ankles and buckle tight.
         Then around my knees and thighs and waist (pining my arms
         tightly against my body) and around my body just under my
         somewhat overgrown breasts.  But that's not all.  I feel
         myself move upward and know that the doctor is ready for the
         last part of the equipment.  When I'm about three feet off
         the floor he stops me.  For a minute there is no sound or
         feeling.  I know he's out there moving around and I can
         picture him getting the last piece of rope and kneeling down
         under my legs.  Then I feel some fumbling at my feet and a
         second later my feet are pulled down.

              The doctor has shown me pictures of myself completely
         done up in the experiment equipment.  There is a ring at the
         bottom of the body suit, right at my toes, and he has tied a
         rope to that ring.  There is another ring bolted to the
         floor right under me and he has tied the rope to that ring.
         He pulls it taunt enough to stretch my entire body out a bit
         but not to be painful.  The purpose of that rope is to keep
         me from moving.  Suspended in mid-air as I am, I can feel
         very little.  I have no floor under my feet, no bed under my
         body as I lay on it.  I am suspended by a harness
         arrangement that is very comfortable and there is the
         feeling of floating in air.  As time goes by it will grow
         until I completely loose all feeling of the ropes, straps
         and leather around my body.  Maybe the tightness of the
         equipment has something to do with that, I don't know.

              I feel his hands running over my body, checking the
         buckles and tightness everywhere, adjusting here or there a
         bit to assure that nothing is loose, least of all me.  Then
         he pats me on the bottom and I feel nothing.

              Dr. Wayward has told me that he usually waits a minute
         or two to make sure everything is properly set up then he
         leaves the lab.  He knows that it will take me several hours
         to reach a proper state and there is nothing he can do until
         then so he goes to his lunch or reads a book in his office.
         I, on the other hand, can read no book, eat nothing (unless
         you count hard rubber -- I don't), and am not going
         anywhere.

              What do I feel?  I feel very comfortable.  My whole
         body is warm and snugly wrapped in a leather cocoon.  I am
         at peace and feel very relaxed.  it is nice.  I don't have
         to think, do anything or say anything.  I wait patiently for
         ten minutes to pass (counting to make sure it's been that
         long).  Then I go into what I call the fun part.

              When the experiments first started, I used to try and
         relax all the time while in the equipment.  But the third
         time I got an itch in the nipple of my left breast and it
         began to drive me crazy.  I tried twisting my shoulders back
         and forth, hoping that the leather suit would rub the itch.
         No chance!  It was too tight.  Then I struggled, just a bit
         at first but growing into harder and more serious jerkings
         of my body and limbs, trying anyway I could to stop that
         maddening itch in my breast.  I guess some place along the
         line I lost the itch but I don't remember when because after
         a few minutes of struggling against such complete and
         hopeless restrictions, I became aware of a warmth generating
         from my sex and spreading outward.  It was a real good
         feeling, an excitement that is wonderful to feel.  I was
         getting sexually turned on!  And it was happening very fast
         and hard.  I soon forget about the itch as I continued my
         struggles in hopes that the wonderful glow in my pussy would
         blossom into full orgasm.  Well, it is boring in that
         equipment, after all.

              Since most of my weight was on a wide and thick strap
         that passed right between my legs, there was something
         pressing my sex.  With some violent attempts at struggles I
         was able to shift the pressure of that strap so that it felt
         soooo good on my pussy.  Before I knew it there were
         skyrockets exploding in my head and my pussy was on fire and
         I felt wonderful!

              That was the first time.  Every time since I waited
         until the doctor left and then I began to fight the ropes
         and straps holding me.  I even try to scream my head off, it
         helps make me feel more helpless.  It doesn't take too long
         before I'm arching my body within my bonds and trembling as
         orgasm after wonderful orgasm explodes within me.  I figure
         I get in three or four orgasm before I'm tired enough to
         just hang limp in the darkness.  Since the doctor's never
         said a thing about it, I'm sure he's gone to his lunch or
         whatever he does all the time I'm getting high on the most
         mind-blowing climaxes I've ever felt.  Hell, probably that
         any girl's ever felt.

             Each experiment lasts four or five hours.  Dr. Wayward
         has been talking about trying some longer experiments,
         perhaps eight hours at a time and I've told him that was
         fine with me.  When the time is up and he lets me down I
         tell him the results.

              Funny thing is that we've been trying to use this
         sensory depravation experiment to induce telepathic abilities
         for almost two years now and haven't had a single positive
         result!  But the doctor is sure it is the right method and I
         don't disagree with him.  After all, he's the doctor!


                               The End
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