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From: Arnold Smith <Nowhere@at.all>
Date: Sat, 02 Dec 2006 09:27:08 -0500
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage.stories,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage,alt.sex.stories.hetero
Subject: Hog-Tied -- M/f, Bondage
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===================
It is an old building in the country, part castle, part palace, and
poorly kept up by her venal uncle and brittle, self-indulgent aunt.
Miranda has no desire to visit, but little choice in the matter. When
she is shown to her high, tower room, she is at first delighted,
thinking her relatives have tucked her away far from them to spend
the necessary time until she left. But she soon discovers her tower
room will be her home for much longer than she had expected.
Robbed of all her possessions, locked away naked, in a room
constantly monitored by cameras, Miranda will be instructed in
discipline and obedience as her mind is slowly turned towards sexual
submission and the pleasure and dark excitement of bondage and
pain. Boredom, hunger and pain work their ways with her young
mind, and soon her relatives are having their way with her lovely
young body.
Nudity became - routine. With nothing to do but read the books she was
given, Miranda finished off the Justine book in a couple of days. By
then she had grown tired of plain rice with no spices and shaved
herself. She sat on the toilet backwards, trying to hide much of her
body from the cameras as she did it, but was quite glad to feel clean
again as she carefully shaved off her pubic hair except for the one
narrow line above her sex.
Her next book was its sequel, Juliet, which featured Justine's sister,
who was as cruel and sadistic as Justine had been innocent and abused.
It was less thoughtful, and more direct, and Miranda felt it a bit more
exciting in more places.
She was also, of course, comparing herself with Justine and Juliet, and
the other women who were sexual prisoners and subjected to cruel
punishments and abuse. It would have been difficult not to. The theme
of the books was such now that she had no doubt where Albert's thoughts
lay, and was both nervous, and oddly inquisitive abut what he might do
to her.
Sitting around reading with no exposure to any other form of
entertainment had somewhat lowered her standards when it came to sex
for simple physical pleasure, after all. And there was the possibility
of seducing Albert into helping her escape to be considered, as well.
But first she had to spend more time with him, and the only time that
happened was when she did something wrong and he punished her. Unless,
of course, she persuaded him to do something other than beat her.
"Excuse me, sir," she asked during breakfast.
"Yes, Miss Smithson."
"Would it be possible for me to have a television again?"
"You damaged your previous television."
"I apologize, sir. And I promise not to do it again. I - would be
willing to barter for it."
He raised his eyebrows. "Barter?"
"In the way we did earlier, sir."
"Ah, I see. And what would you let me see that I have not already
seen?"
"I - don't know. Perhaps - perhaps you could - do something to me, that
wasn't very painful."
"Do something? And what kind of something did you have in mind?"
Her face flushed. "I don't know, sir."
"You don't know. I think you have a pretty good idea, Miss Smithson.
Are you offering sex for the television?"
"No! I mean ,no sir."
"So, something less than sex, hmm."
"You could - could tie me up or something," she said, face darkening
further.
"And what makes you think I would have any interest in that?"
"The books you gave me, sir."
"And you think I chose those books because I have an interest in
sadomasochism and bondage?"
"The - thought had occurred to me, sir."
"I see. And what kind of bondage had you in mind?"
She shrugged helplessly, not an easy thing to do with her hands behind
her neck and her back arched. He looked at her and she looked back, but
her eyes drifted away, embarrassed. She felt her pussy pulsing, felt
her stomach churning, and her nipples hardening.
"Are you willing to spend the day in bondage for this television?"
"Yes, sir," she said, her pussy throbbing now.
"Very well. I will see what I can do."
He turned and walked out of the room, and after a long moment Miranda
relaxed. But she remained tense, wondering what Albert would plan, and
whether he would take advantage of her once tied up. She had thought of
that before making the offer, of course and decided that if Albert
wanted to force himself on her he could do it at any time, whether she
was tied up or not.
She told herself quite sternly that she was doing this only to get the
television, because she was so terribly bored. And, of course, as a
means of softening him up, of trying to lure him into helping her. She
was aware that there was another, ulterior reason, but categorically
refused to think upon it.
She was intrigued by the concept of sadomasochism and bondage, and as
she had spent the last days nude and a prisoner, and as she had so
little to do, she was looking for - entertainment.
The door opened just as she was getting up, and she abruptly knelt once
more and resumed her former position. Albert carried an armful of black
rope with him, and she felt her pulse rocket even as her anxiety and
arousal deepened. She licked her lips nervously as she watched him set
the rope down on the table, then turn and smile at her.
"This won't take long," he said.
But it did. It took quite a time, in fact. Miranda had naively believed
he would simply tie her wrists up or something. But Albert's idea of
bondage was, unsurprisingly, quite a bit more sophisticated than her
own. When he was done, close to an hour later, Miranda lay on her side,
panting weakly, sweating freely, tightly bound in a way she could never
have imagined.
"Stand up, Miss Smithson," he said.
Taking a deep breath, Miranda obeyed.
"Turn, please."
She turned and flinched as a double loop of rope went around her left
arm just above the elbow, circling it. She felt the same two loops
circle her left, and then felt the pressure as her arms were pulled
back together. She grunted as they were pulled back uncomfortably far,
as her shoulders were pulled back and stressed, and began to feel the
pressure turning to pain.
Albert pulled more sharply, then loosened the rope. He massaged her
shoulders in a very chaste, clinical way, then tightened the ropes
again. Bit by bit he forced her arms all the way back so that her
elbows were ground together. Then he ran the two loops around both arms
above and below the elbows.
He fed the ropes over her shoulder, then down her chest, and Miranda
gasped, her face reddening, heart beating faster as he looped them
around her right breast.
She saw him looking at her, smiling, but she could not meet his eyes.
He circled her left breast with the two loops then, and slowly pulled
them tighter, squeezing in around the sides of her breasts so they
bulged out a little before feeding the ropes down her belly. He
separated them at her waist and fed them off in different directions
around her waist, then down between her buttocks and back between her
thighs.
He fed the two ropes together up along her sex, then pulled.
Miranda gasped again as the soft rope slowly pulled up between the lips
of her shaven sex, shifting nervously from foot to foot. She wondered
if she almost protested, but the hard pressure against her clitoris and
sex felt too delicious for her to want it to end.
But it did, momentarily. Albert drew the two loops up and away from the
top of her sex and tied a knot in them, then placed it back against her
body and fed the joined ropes up the centre of her body to the ropes
around her breasts.
Albert then unraveled a bit of rope, and plucked thin cords from it.
Miranda watched, fascinated, as he tied these cords to the ropes
circling her breasts, tied them at top and bottom, and on either side
of each breast. Then he very carefully led the cords from the right and
left together and bound them in a loop directly over her throbbing,
erect nipple. He slid the loop over her nipple, then tightened it so
she gasped and stared at him.
He stared back, as her nipple throbbed, and her mouth worked
soundlessly, for she could not think of what to say.
He then led the top and bottom cords down in the same fashion, but
caused the loop to be wider. He placed this loop beneath the first,
circling not merely her nipple, but the puffy, swollen areola around
it, and, as with the first cords, he tightened the loop so that the
cords dug into her flesh and squeezed tight.
She then saw that he had not actually tied the cords around the loops
of rope which encircled her breasts, but simply circled them. He now
tied each one to a different area of the ropes around her breasts, and
the loops coming down from her shoulders.
He knelt before her, binding her legs above and below her ankles, then
had her kneel, and, taking her arm, pulled her down so that she lay on
her side. He then bound her ankles together and pulled them up and back
behind her.
She grunted as she felt the pressure on her arms increase, felt her
wrists pulled downwards. At the same time she felt her ankles pulled
upwards, and knew he had bound them together.
"Oh!" she gasped as her body bowed back further and further.
Still, Albert wasn't finished. He pulled dual loops of rope over her
face, then back into her mouth and behind her head. Then she felt the
pressure as he bound these ropes to her ankles. Finally, he combed her
hair into a long tail and bound it in cord, then pulled that back, as
well, somehow binding it to her ankles.
"I shall leave you now, Miss Smithson, in hopes you find the bargain
you have made worthwhile, and the day not unduly lacking in interest."
And he did leave then, as Miranda lay on her side, hogtied, gasping
into the ropes which were pulled in between her teeth, moaning weakly,
excited despite herself, anxious, and a little embarrassed.
This was rather more than she had bargained for, she told herself
anxiously. How long would Albert keep her bound like this? Surely not
all day. Surely he would have other ideas, other ways he wanted to see
her positioned?!
As she lay there on the floor, it was quite natural for her to shift
her position about, attempting to ease her discomfort. It was in doing
so that she realized cleverness of how Albert had bound her.
The loops circling her breast were tight, but if she arched her back
more they would tighten still further. More than that. The cords
circling her nipples and areolas would tighten if she pulled her head
back. What was more, further arching her back pulled at the rope he had
fed between her sex lips, pulled at the knot which rested hard against
her clitoris, causing it to grind slightly against that most sensitive
portion of her anatomy.
But more cruelly, the ropes would also tighten around her throat,
making her gasp breathlessly. Oh a clever bondage it was, she thought
anxiously. Surely he had designed it this way! That made her more
embarrassed, sure he was watching, and more anxious.
She could not really remain still. Her discomfort, increasingly coming
from her back and shoulders, forced her to shift constantly, gasping,
moaning, grunting with effort and pain. And every little shift
tightened and loosened the ropes and cords around her breasts and
nipples, as well as around her throat and between her legs.
This produced a near endless series of sensations which changed with
every movement. A certain way of pulling back her head would tighten
the loops circling her throat so she could hardly breath. A way of
pulling on one shoulder as she arched back tightened the rope and cords
around one nipple, breast and areola, and then easing the strain as she
rolled her shoulder back.
Tiny movements, small arches and turns, increased and decreased the
strain on different ropes and cords in different ways.
It took very little time for the strain and ache to cause Miranda's
flesh to glisten with perspiration. And it took very little time for
her to realize that she was wet inside and out, that the moisture
around the ropes passing between her sex lips was not perspiration at
all. Her pussy was hot and throbbing, and her body was feeling a
growing sensation of arousal.
She had been aroused before, of course, by her bizarre situation, but
never like this. The heat flowed through her veins and the thrill of
sexual hunger sang in her muscles and bones and sinews until she moaned
with desire and need. She was certain Albert was watching, and did her
best to hide her arousal, at least for a time.
But as her arousal deepened, as her heat rose, it became easier to
convince herself that he would not notice small movements, even those
which repeated themselves. By pulling back in a rhythmic fashion, she
was repeatedly increasing and decreasing the strain of the ropes
squeezing her breasts and nipples, and causing the rope between her
thighs, between her pussy lips, to pull more tightly and to grind the
knot against her clitoris.
She thought of a number of the scenes and characters in the books she
had been reading, and moaned around the ropes cutting into her cheeks
and mouth. In very little time she was quite uncomfortably close to
orgasm, and began to fear how she could hide such a thing from her
watching jailor.
She went still for a little while; five minutes which seemed much
longer. But soon she was straining again, straining and easing,
straining and easing, until again she was close to orgasm. Again she
went still, panting breathlessly, trying to keep still, not wanting to
expose her arousal so blatantly. The consequences could be severe.
Would he think she got off on this sort of thing and tie her always?
The idea was worrying, and arousing at
the same time.
She found, now, that the ropes around her had slackened very slightly
due to her repeatedly straining back against them. This had allowed the
rope binding her long pony tail to her ankles to go taut so that now,
as she strained forward, she winced at the pull to her hair, at the
sharp little pulls at her scalp from a hundred, from a thousand little
hairs.
She ceased her movements many times, only to start up again through
boredom and arousal. And her new dilemma was how to arch back, and
forth, to strain against the ropes sufficiently to squeeze them around
her breasts and tighten the ropes jammed between her pussy lips - but
not quite so far as to pull at the rope binding her hair. Or at least,
not to pull too severely on it so that it really hurt.
And as if that weren't enough, arching against the ropes also tightened
the loops around her throat, making it very difficult to breath. Yet a
strange side affect of this was that as the rope curled in around her
throat pulled in more tightly her head seemed to throb, and the wild
sensations of sexual heat seemed to momentarily expand.
And so she was cast between the two demons of pleasure and pain. For
the more severely she arched forward the more pleasure her body took,
and yet at the same time the more pain came to her scalp and the
tighter the ropes were around her throat.
She quivered and strained, the muscles moving beneath the surface of
her glistening pale skin as perspiration trickled slowly down her
flanks and over her breasts. Her long hair was tangled, matted against
her face in places.
Her breathing was ragged and shallow, gasping weakly as she
rhythmically pulled and relaxed, strained and relaxed. As she moved,
the ropes circling her breasts squeezed and relaxed, squeezed and
loosened, the cords circling her nipples and areolas pinching
and releasing, tightening and pulling, and releasing. The ropes digging
into her sex pulled harder, then softened. The knot jammed against her
swollen, sweating clitoris ground back and forth, up and down, in
short, but desperately thrilling movements that sent pain and pleasure
sizzling through her body.
It was an agony of pleasure made all the more so by her determination
to some how hide it from the watching cameras. Her movements were
slowed, hesitant, restrained despite the burning in her mind and body.
She struggled to strain her muscles against the ropes without moving
very much, without her exertions being noticed.
It leant an added, dangerous sense of thrill to what she was doing, to
the outrageousness of being bound naked in such an intimate fashion by
a man who was probably watching her even then on his television
monitor. She had no desire to act in a fashion which would provide
Albert with any kind of visual pleasure. But despite that the knowledge
she was doing so was somehow lending a forbidden and wicked tinge to
things.
Was this, she thought, what de Sade meant about the hot, liquid
pleasure of giving in to one's baser instincts? Was this the natural
element of a girl, to experience pain and pleasure as one? Would she be
beaten, next, whipped perhaps? Punished as the girls in de Sade's books
were punished, or as "O" was punished?
There was a dark hunger behind such an idea, a terrible thrill. They
were such enormously depraved stories, and so very famous everywhere,
and the thought of experiencing the same sorts of things was somewhat
awe inspiring as well as being deeply stimulating on a strange, dark,
intellectual sort of way.
She was only Miranda, after all, a nothing girl of no accomplishment,
bored and drifting. To take part in such hedonistic wildness was
somewhat the product of a fevered imagination, and nothing she had ever
aspired to. And yet here she was, a prisoner these past ten days or so,
she thought, a naked prisoner of a depraved man.
The pleasure grew, and her exertions with it. She could not fight the
call, the raw hunger within her. No matter who watched, no matter what
they thought, the heat was burning away her inhibitions, reshaping her
priorities. Nothing mattered but the pleasure, the wondrous, terrible
pleasure as she strained rhythmically against the ropes.
And the pain mattered less and less, indeed, seeming to mutate, to be
absorbed into the wild maelstrom of sensations and add a dark tint to
the brilliant white heat of sexual pleasure enveloping her. She choked
and gasped repeatedly as she strained, as the ropes tightened around
her throat, but that too was absorbed into the sexual cauldron in which
her mind was slowly being bathed and boiled.
The orgasm neared, and she knew a sudden burgeoning panic that he would
see, but the pleasure was too great, too wild and raw, and she could
not hold back. Her eyes went wide, and her movements began frantic,
thrashing against the ropes, gurgling aloud in a wild, mindless cry of
wonder as the climax ripped through her body and seared her mind.
It shook her like a rag doll, and her convulsions wracked her body
there on the floor. Crackling sexual electricity tore through her body
and mind as the pleasure flooded her. And nothing had ever been so
sweet.
The orgasm was more powerful than she had ever remembered, and went
on and on. She strained violently against the ropes, closing the loops
around her throat so that she could not breath at all. Her eyes bulged
as the pleasure hammered at her throbbing skull. Her body shuddering
and twisting and bucking against the ropes as it overwhelmed her.
And finally, the little death came over her, and she mourned the
passing of the ecstasy that had gripped her for such agonizingly long
seconds. Her body continued to jerk convulsively for long seconds, then
went limp, slack, her eyes slitted as she sucked in desperate lungsful
of air and groaned dazedly.
Miranda lay limply for some time, exhausted, overheated, and then her
mind slowly fit itself back together so that she recalled her
surroundings. She felt a burning sense of failure and embarrassment,
knowing there was no way Albert could possibly have missed seeing that,
or hearing it, did he have the microphones turned on. She lay exposed
before him now in more ways than one.
For a time she was deeply unhappy, even depressed and filled with self
loathing. What a weakling she was! What a slut he must think her, a
perverted slut! How could she pretend to any dignity now, to resist his
perverse demands?
Her shoulders ached, and her arms felt hot and numb. Her breasts
throbbed from the squeezing the ropes had given them, and her nipples
burned with pain. Her pussy also felt quite raw and sore from the rough
pinching and rubbing of the ropes against the sensitive pink flesh
there.
And still she lay there on the floor, tightly bound, unable to move,
naked and slick with sweat, hot with her own exertions - helpless. She
was helpless. She was a prisoner, a naked prisoner. She was at his
mercy, the mercy of a cruel, lusting, perverted man.
And such thoughts, bizarrely, seemed to fix themselves in her mind as a
source of arousal. Rather than making her anxious and fearful they set
her aching pussy to throbbing once again, her lower body pulsing, her
nipples aching still, but with need. Slowly, over the course of time,
and despite her discomfort, the heat and passion and hunger began to
flow through her veins once again.
She endured it for some times, feeling a sense of martyrdom. Poor me,
she thought weakly, poor me, so abused, so cruelly treated, so
perversely bound and helpless, so - naked before his eyes.
Her movements were at first almost entirely instinctive, her body
responding to the soft, hot pleasure it felt every time she pulled
against the ropes. Her movements became rhythmic without her even
knowing what she was doing, her body arching in and out in very short,
repeated movements that stoked the fires within her.
When she became aware of her movements that fire was already so hot she
only continued them, exaggerated them, strained harder and longer,
gasping and moaning as she once again squeezed the ropes around her
breasts, pulled the cords against her nipples, ground the knot across
her clitoris, and tightened the loops around her throat.
Long minutes elapsed as she lay on the floor, straining rhythmically,
gasping for breath, grunting in soft, animal passion. And then orgasm
washed over her and she cried out, thrashing frantically, straining
hard and fast, in and out, in and out, in and out, as her eyes rolled
and a sparkling white haze shrouded her vision.
She was left limp and dazed, half rolled onto her back now, chest
heaving as she moaned exhaustedly.
She lay still, saliva drooling out around the ropes pulling into her
mouth, eyes glassy, every exhale a moan of pain and weariness.
"I rather think you are getting more out of this experience than I
expected, Miss Smithson."
She opened her eyes to find Albert squatting next to her, hands at the
ropes. He undid the ones digging into the side of her mouth and peeled
them out.
"Bastard," she whispered.
"I've already told you that is incorrect," he said. "And also quite
ill-mannered of you."
She moaned weakly.
"I'd like to leave you like this, given the pleasure you're obviously
taking from it, but I'm afraid your body is not ready yet. Your
shoulders might be damaged if you stayed in this position for too long
a time, and we wouldn't want any harm to come to such a magnificent
physical specimen."
His eyes ran down the length of her tightly bound body. "There is the
question of blood flow, as well, given how you've tightened up the
ropes and - cords."
He let his thumb and forefinger come together around her bulging
nipple, squeezing it lightly, rubbing the pads of his fingers from side
to side as she shuddered in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
He rolled her forward, more on her breasts, and his hands went to the
ropes behind her. Miranda groaned as the pressure against her scalp
eased. It had seemed a constant, and as the stinging faded she felt a
deep sense of relief spreading through her mind. Then the ropes binding
her wrists to her ankles gave way, and she gasped as her body began to
unfold.
Her back groaned at the release of tension, and she did the same,
straightening out her legs with a wonderful sense of relief.
The ropes around her ankles and then her knees slipped away, and then
the squeezing on her breasts faded as they were released. Almost all
the ropes seemed to slide away, and Miranda felt a sense of release,
stretching out her legs, groaning.
"Oh! Oww! Please!" she cried, at the sudden intense pinching of her
nipples.
Albert was rising, and in his hands were the cords squeezing tightly
around her nipples. Gasping, Miranda scrambled to ease the pain, to
send her body after him. Despite how stiff and aching her legs were she
got them under herself and forced herself up, yelping, moaning as he
kept the cords taut, pulling her to her knees, then her feet.
"S-stop! Don't! Please!"
Albert lifted his hand higher, and Miranda was forced onto the balls of
her feet, then her toes. Her arms still bound together at the elbows,
she was forced to totter forward after him on her toes, back arched,
nipples straining up and out until they reached the bed. Then he
released his hold and brought a hand against her back, giving her a
push.
She fell into the bed, sprawling there in an ungainly heap, gasping
weakly as he moved around to the side. He undid the ropes around her
arms and Miranda let out an unrestrained groan of relief as the
terrible tension in her shoulders was finally released.
He rolled her onto her back, and Miranda herself spread her arms up and
out, groaning, eyes closed, her shoulders aching, but in a delicious
way now. She hardly noticed the leather straps closing around her
wrists at first.
When she did she merely opened her eyes, watching him, panting weakly.
Already her right wrist was bound to the top corner. And as she
watched, he pulled the strap around the left tight, as well. He moved
to the foot of the bed, spread her ankles wide, and strapped them to
the lower corners. Then he stood there looking down at her spread-
eagled before him, smiling.
Her heart beat faster, and Miranda stared back up at him, legs spread
wide, utterly vulnerable and helpless.
"A-Are you going to rape me now!?" she panted.
He shook his head ruefully, still smiling. "That would hardly be
gentlemanly."
He turned, then, and left the room, closing and locking the door
behind.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
From the ebook Miranda's Tower - by Argus. Argus novels have been
published by Nexus, Olympia, Beeline, Silver Moon, Star, and Chimera.
His ebooks can be downloaded at http://www.ebookblue.com
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