A Passion for Bondage 4: Double Kidnapping

Chapter 1: A Quiet Summer Afternoon

As I stood there on the hot summer afternoon, soaking up the sun’s rays, my thoughts turned to self-analysis. Not too surprisingly, since there was nothing else I could do. I did worry a little about getting too much sun and the resulting sunburn, but since there was nothing I could do about that either, it was pushed down to make room for more lofty thoughts.

Like, was I really mentally ill? There was no question that I was, and probably always will be, weird – at least by most people’s standards. However, except for a tendency to buck authority figures (such as Mom and Dad, teachers and most anyone wearing a uniform), and a slight snobbishness directed towards anyone whose IQ wasn’t up in the stratosphere with mine, there was only one major area of my personality that might possibly be classified as abnormal.

I was – and still am – a sexual pervert. I tend to think of that as Pervert with a capital P, as if it were a badge of honor… Or something like that.

Well, anyway, I’ll spell out exactly what kind of sexual Pervert I am – just so there won’t be any confusion.

Sex is okay and I like it well enough, and I’m certainly no virgin – heaven’s no! But there is one form of sex that I simply adore. One form that I am unable to resist the allure of. One form that has become my life’s overpowering goal. A form that I seek constantly, almost the exclusion of most other things a normal, healthy young woman of twenty years would want.

I love bondage!

For those of you who are not really familiar with just what sexual bondage entails, I will expound upon the meaning of the term. Basically, it means that I want to be tied up with ropes. Made totally helpless. And kept that way for long periods of time.

It matters not if I have sex while tied up. It is the intense helpless feeling that I crave and that satisfies a very strong need in me. As it happens, however, just being tied is a terribly strong aphrodisiac for me. Just show me a length of rope and I become juicy and hot down between my legs. Actually tie me up, and I’m in heaven.

Weird, right?

It gets even weirder. As I say, when I’m tightly tied up and totally helpless, I get terribly horny. Doesn’t matter if anyone is touching me, I get highly sexual excited just from the bondage. But, since there is usually nothing I can about it, that excitement eventually turns to frustration. Terrible, right? Wrong! Even when I am suffering massive frustration such as would make most women scream in anger, I’m enjoying myself. Oh, the frustration is very real and very strong. Eventually it reaches a point where I am fighting to keep from screaming for someone to come over and touch me. Grab my pussy, squeeze my breasts, even spank my bare ass. I want anything and everything but can’t do a thing about it myself.

A good part of why this frustration is so horrible is that more often than not, I’m not only tightly bound and helpless, I’m also alone. That’s one of my favorite games. I love to be tightly bound, gagged, and then left alone to suffer. Believe me, being left alone when you’re helpless is scary. But also intense. Unless you’ve experienced it, you can’t imagine how intense the helpless feeling can be.

But, damn, it makes me excited!

So there it is. I’m a Pervert. A card-carrying, first class, dyed-in-the-wool Pervert.

And I love it!

Which brings me back to the beginning of this narrative.

Oh, by the way, my name is Sharon. I’ve been blessed with a rather good figure which I keep in tip-top shape by playing tennis often. My hair is a shining black and I wear it long, almost down to mid-back. I like to think that I look something like Sophia Loren when she was my age. My dark eyes help, as does my mother’s Italian ancestors.

Anyway, there I was, contemplating my mental state while totally helpless as well as being totally naked. Let me describe to you how I was tied.

Sara, my good friend (usually) had ordered me to remove all my clothes, which didn’t take long since I was wearing only a really brief swimsuit. Maybe two ounces of fabric. Once those two strips of cloth had been done away with, she had me stand with my bare back against one of the poles holding up the patio roof. As it often happened, Sara and I were alone in her parent’s big house. And I do mean big! I think it had seven – or was it eight? – bedrooms. A library, a game room, a large pool, lots of property spread out over a handful of acres with lots of trees and privacy. Next to the pool was a patio bigger than most houses. It had a massive barbeque, a fire pit, and more furniture than my parent’s house. Who puts sofas out in the patio, anyway?

But more important from our point of view was the half dozen metal posts that held up the patio roof. Each was about two inches in diameter and was set in concrete at the bottom. That made them a wonder place to tie up a girl such as myself. Of course, Sara was no stranger to being tied to those poles, but that’s another story. You see, Sara is as kinky as I am, and that’s kinkier than a snake with cramps. She loves being tied almost as much as I do. Well, to be honest, maybe more.

Since no one could see into the yard, and her parents were out of town – off in Europe somewhere – that left us to play all sorts of interesting games.

Well, when she had me backed up to the pole, she took some rope and bound my wrists together behind the pole. This time she tied them with the palms facing each other. That mean, as I well knew, that next my elbows would be tied together. Both Sara and I are pretty flexible and can easily touch our elbows behind our backs. Even with the pole against my back and between my arms, they easily came together and were tightly bound that way.

Next she tied rope around my waist and arms, lashing my body to the pole. That was done tight enough so that there was no way I could wiggle my arms around the pole. A little more rope was tied around my chest, just above my wonderfully firm and shapely breasts. That assured that my body was held as solidly against the pole as if it were welded to it.

Sara and I were both well experienced at tying each other, and pretty darn good at it. I knew from plenty of past experience that there would be no way I could free myself from those ropes. But, of course, Sara was not finished. Neither of us ever do the job only half way. She looped a rope around one ankle and pulled that foot back behind the pole. Then the other foot was also pulled back and she was tying them together. Since I was standing against the pole, it was a bit awkward for me to have my feet pulled behind it. Made me have to stand on my toes. Also spread my knees apart since she crossed my ankles back there and tied them that way.

She solved the problem of my having to take some of my weight on my toes by tying rope to that already around my ankles, threading that over the ropes on my wrists and pulling. Up my feet went behind the pole until they were almost touching my hands. She doubled up that rope a couple of times then knotted it tightly. I was now officially suspended off the ground. It was sort of like being hogtied but in a vertical direction instead of horizontal. Put all my weight on the ropes holding me against the pole, but those were so tight that I did not slide down the metal pole even the slightest.

We had both used that type of tie and knew that it would become uncomfortable before long. Of course, there was nothing I could do about that. Being comfortable was low on our list of priorities. Being totally secured and helpless was at the top of the list.

With my arms tightly bound behind the pole and my ankles also tied there, you would think that Sara would finally be finished with the binding of this naked woman.

Not so.