"I'm surprised you guys haven't tried it," Sondra said. My neighbor friend could talk about bondage as if it was nothing unusual. She had a tendency to drag our conversations into the gutter, so it wasn't that shocking.
I usually pretended to be surprised by her crude banter, but the truth was that I enjoyed it. Since we'd moved into the neighborhood she was the only neighbor that I'd really gotten to know, and her quirks were mostly of the entertaining variety.
"With your big boobs you'd look so hot tied up, Linda," she told me.
Sometimes I wondered if she had a thing for my breasts, because she brought them up in conversation so often. I guess I understood though, it must be hard for women like her who are less busty to be around women like me. Not that Sondra was flat-chested, far from it. Next to my girls though, hers were pretty unimpressive.
"Bondage? What's the point? Why would being tied up do it for you?" I said.
"Don't knock it until you've tried it. Being tied up can be really hot, even if you're alone. It makes it easy to fantasize that you're helpless and out of control. Like somebody could do whatever sexy thing to you that they wanted."
I must have looked skeptical as I felt. The whole bondage thing had always seemed pretty silly to me. The thought of Martin tying me up was just not that hot. She shook her head at me for a moment and then got up. She left the room, and when she returned she was holding a bundle of white rope. She moved over to where I sat in one of her kitchen chairs and looked down at me.
"Don't knock it until you've tried it. Now sit back," she said.
"Are you nuts? I'm not letting you tie me up."
"Oh don't be a sissy. I'm not going to do it up tight, just enough for you to the the idea. Now, just put your hands on the arm wrests," she said.
I watched as she looped the rope around my arm and the chair, quickly working it into some sort of knot. Then she passed the length of the rope around my belly and the back of the chair, twice, before tying my other wrist down. The rope was snug, but not tight. I was confident I could pull my hands free if I wanted to. Then she bent down and tied my feet to the chair as well.
When she stood up and looked at me, I tugged at my bonds lightly. It was easy to imagine that I couldn't free myself. She smiled at me, and then she picked up her purse.
"Wait a minute--where are you going?" I asked her.
"I'm going to run out to the store. I think I'll leave the door open, though. Imagine, anyone could come in and find you helpless like that. They could just do whatever they wanted with you. Sounds hot to me," she told me with a laugh, and then she left me there!
I wasn't going to just sit there tied up in her kitchen while she went shopping. I pulled harder at my wrists, but I was surprised to find that I couldn't free my hands the way I'd thought. Her knots were loose enough not to hurt, but they also seemed just tight enough that I couldn't slip free.
For the first fifteen minutes, I just seethed with anger at her. How could she do this to me? After that though, I found myself thinking about what she'd said. What if somebody did come in and find me there? It was sort of hot to think about. When she returned a half hour later, I was glad to see her. I wasn't even angry any more.
"So, what did you think?"
"I guess that wasn't so bad," I said.
"Come over tomorrow, and I'll show you something even hotter."
The next day she had me lie on my side on the bed in one of her spare bedrooms. She tied my hands behind my back. Next she tied by ankles together, and had me bend my knees so she could tie my ankles and wrists together behind me. Again, she tied it loose enough to be comfortable, but tight enough that I couldn't pull free.
She closed the door and left me there like that for an hour. I lay there feeling helpless and turned on. I have to admit, somehow it was really hot. When she returned, she untied me and I stretched out.
I told her I needed to go do something that I'd forgotten. As soon as I got home, I went to my bed and masturbated while fantasizing about being found while I was tied up. I lay on my side in the same position and imagined someone having their way with my helpless body, fingering myself until I came, fast and hard.
It was two days before we were able to meet and do it again. This time she tied me the same way before she produced some kind of black cloth sack.
"Sondra? What's that?"
"It's a hood. It will help you feel more isolated, trust me. You'll like it," she told me.
I didn't argue, and it's not like I could resist if I wanted to at that point. She pulled it down over my face without much trouble even though it fit snugly. It had no eye holes, just a mesh patch over my mouth and nose that let me breathe. I wasn't sure I liked the idea, but at that point I was already enjoying myself too much to argue with her suggestions.
She left me there like that for what seemed like forever, tied and hooded and alone. It was great.
The session after that, she left me for longer still. When I thought she'd never return, I heard the door open. After a moment, I felt somebody undoing the buttons on my blouse!
"Sondra? That's a bit much for me," I said.
I felt my blouse being tugged and pulled, to expose my breasts and lacy white bra to view. I felt someone grab one of my breasts then, squeezing it hard.
"Sondra! Stop. I-I don't want this!" I said, but the moan that escaped me didn't emphasize my point very well.
For the first time, I wondered if it was somebody other than Sondra. Why wasn't she answering me? A hand slithered into the waist band of my pants, then down under my panties. Whoever it was started to stroke me! It was humiliating, I felt so helpless and exposed. And it shamed me that the mysterious invader now knew that I was already wet. They continued to squeeze my tits as they caressed my sex.
I gasped as the person slipped first one, then two fingers inside me. The wet fingers slid back out of me and began to rub me faster. I was so hot. I stopped trying to hide my arousal. I moaned louder and louder as the hand worked at me, until finally I cried out as I came. The hand withdrew from my pants and then I felt them button my shirt back up. Then I was left there alone again, my panting breaths loud in the silent room.
When Sondra came and untied me an hour later, she gave no sign that it had been her, if it had. I felt violated, but even though I couldn't look her in the face as I rushed out of there, I was turned on. More turned on, if anything, but the continued feeling of helplessness and submission that I just couldn't shake.
That night, Martin must have wondered what got into me. I told him to take me from behind, and to squeeze my tits while he did it. I imagined that I was tied and helpless as he screwed me, and I came so loud that the neighbors probably heard.
I thought about refusing her invitation to return the next day, but then I remembered how I'd felt the day before, both at her house and at home in bed, and that was that.
She tied me up the way she always did, but this time she sort of smirked at me as she brought the hood towards me. I saw that she had something else in her hands, something red.
"Part of the helplessness kick is the knowledge that someone could make you do something you normally wouldn't. Something nasty even," she told me as she lifted the red cloth towards me.
My eyes opened wide as she pulled the cloth over my head. It was a pair of silky red panties. She positioned them so the waist band wrapped around my head from top to bottom, with the crotch running right down the middle so that I was looking out at her through the leg holes, with the crotch of them covering my nose.
The moment she pulled them into place, I knew she'd gone too far. It was just a pair of panties, by the crusty feel of them on my nose I knew that they were worn, well worn at that. The first breath I took was tainted with a strong, tangy female smell, and I realized with a start that they weren't just soiled, but that at some point she'd been quite aroused while wearing them.
"No, not this, I don't want this" I plead, but she just smirked down at me and continued what she was doing.
I was too shocked to say anything else as Sondra pulled the black hood down over my head, taking care to keep the panties, her panties, where she wanted them--right in my face.
The really humiliating part is that I was wet before she closed the door. Again, after a long time someone entered and fondled me. Not someone, I couldn't even pretend any more. It was Sondra that probed my boiling seam with her fingers, and it was Sondra that gave a singled choked laugh when I came again, faster than ever. The orgasm was like a bomb going off.