Bondage from which she cannot escape

Her fingers stretched around the knot, the first attempt slipping off the rope, the second finding purchase. She strained, arching her back a little more, creating enough slack for her to get a proper grip. It hurt, almost as much as the rope biting into her wrists, but it was worth it. It had to be.

The knot started to loosen. For a moment she relaxed, letting blood flow back into her fingers with a slight tingling and preparing for the next assault. He’d told her the bondage was inescapable. He’d told her there was no way to free herself. He told her she was his and there was nothing she could do but wait until he returned. She was proving him wrong.

It was the softest of touches that told her the knot had come undone. The tension in her knees and shoulders evaporated as the rope that had held her ankles and wrists together slackened and fell away. She lay outstretched on the mattress, letting her limbs recover. Not for too long though as she didn’t know when he would return.

With a new sense of hope she wriggled to the side of the mattress and swung her legs over the edge. It was resting on the ground, denying her any momentum to get herself upright. Frustrated for a moment she put the minor setback to one side and rolled onto her back. Lifting her legs high above her head she took a deep breath and then flung them forward, holding her stomach muscles tight. Her legs acted as a pendulum and as she came upright she threw her upper body forward as well, adding to the effect and ensuring she didn’t topple backwards.

She was sat up.

Breathing heavily and cursing the thick ball jammed between her teeth she swung her legs again, this time back to the edge of the mattress. Shuffling forward with her buttocks she managed to place her feet flat on the floor, curling herself up as she continued her movement. Her thighs and calves screamed their complaint as she shifted her weight forward and lifted herself up.

Standing was the first time she had a chance to understand what had been done to her. Around her ankles and knees were rough ropes that had been tightened enough to restrain her, not enough to deprive her of complete movement. She could feel more rope around her wrists, holding her hands behind her back so they hung touching her bottom. Around her chest were more ropes, looped above and below her breasts in a way that squeezed them and made them feel more sensitive. Somehow this arrangement had been fastened in a way that held her upper arms against her back, which, as she stood collecting her thoughts, made her feel a little off balance.

Then there was the gag. The thick red rubber ball that he’d delighted in showing her and explaining how she’d be reduced to mumbling and drooling. He’d pressed it between her teeth and though her jaw had bitten down on it there was little sign it would do anything other than hold her mouth open achingly wide. The strap behind her head was tight, making sure she couldn’t push it out.

The door was out of the question. Beyond were stairs and she knew she had no hope of making it down them before she was discovered. It was the sound of a car driving along the street outside that gave her the second option. The large window that went from floor to ceiling and was shielded only a thin net curtain was where she focused her efforts.

Carefully she shuffled across the floor, testing her balance with each tiny step before moving. Jumping was out of the question as she would make too much noise, so instead she inched her way towards the window, her vision fixed on a particular point on the frame in the hope it would offset how off-balance she felt. She came to know it well in the eternity that it took her to reach the glass.

Turning her back on the outside world she fumbled for the edge of the curtain. Having found it she shuffled again, moving it aside, backing herself against the glass and then turning so that she was between it and the curtain. She was in full view of the street now: a bound and gagged woman that someone must surely see.

There was some hope. The street was a cut-through between two main roads and she’d heard cars driving up and down it every few minutes. Hopefully someone would see her and be curious enough to call the police. Maybe a neighbour would look out their window and see her there and come over. She’d kick and bang on the glass if she had to, but not until she was certain of discovery and escape.

How long she stood there she didn’t know. Five minutes? Ten? It was hard to tell as her heart was pounding in her chest and her limbs were complaining at being so immobile. She thought about sitting down, only it would be easier to be seen if she was standing. She maintained her focus too, concentrating on the street outside and not on how helpless she was or how stupid for getting into this position.

Too focused. She lost track of what was happening around her until his hands rested on her shoulders and his head came alongside hers, sharing the view out of the window.

“A lovely place to live,” he said softly.

Her heart stopped for a moment as fear gripped her and she froze solid.

“What are you hoping for?” he asked her. “Someone to come by and see you at the window?”

His hands moved down her arms and wrapped around her waist, holding her close. As her hands pressed against him she felt his erection. Fear turned to panic and she let out a long, frustrated moan that may have been her saying, “No”, only she wasn’t sure. A solitary tear formed in the corner of her eye and rolled gently down her cheek, mingling with the saliva and drool escaping from the gag.

“This is a kinky neighbourhood, my dear,” he told her. “Across the road is a professional dominatrix who has quite the sadistic streak. Next to her is the gay couple who like to dress up as furry animals at the weekend: Stuart is a gorgeous fox. A little further up is the Gordian household and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what happens there.”

She shook as his breath fell heavily on her neck. His fingers brushed the hair from her cheek and wiped away her tear. It was preparation, she told herself. He was preparing himself for whatever came next and building up the confidence to do it. Driven by terror her mind raced through ways of escaping, each blocked by the realisation by the simple fact she was bound and gagged and helpless. He had her where he wanted her, had her in a place where he could do whatever he wanted to her and there was nothing she could about it but scream.

“My neighbours,” he said, “won’t want to rescue you, my dear. They’ll want to come over here and abuse you.”

Tears rolled thick and fast down her face as she started crying. She struggled against him, trying to break free, oblivious to whatever consequences came next. She had to be free. Had to escape from him. Only the harder she tried the firmer his grip on her became until she held tightly against his body and reduced to sobbing uncontrollably.

Helplessly she rested against him as he lifted her and carried her back to the bed. He placed her down on her stomach and once more he bent her legs at the knees. Unable to find the strength to fight she lay there like a puppet as he moved her any way he wanted.

“I admit that I was a little cruel,” he said as he retied her. “I didn’t tie this as well as I could have done just so you had the chance to escape. I wanted to see what you would do and whether you’d try and get free.”

Her body jerked as he pulled the ropes much tighter than before, stretching her arms back as he drew wrists and ankles together. As she tried to settle into her new position he crouched down in front of her, his face filling her vision.

“You stay there now, my little girl,” he told her. “I’ll be back for you soon.”

She watched him stand and go to the door, only for him to pause and look back.

“Oh,” he said. “I nearly forgot this.”

She tensed as he came back, fear returning to her. He bent down and her mind filled with all manner of visions of what might happen next. None were good. It was almost a relief when the world went black and she felt the firm caress of a padded blindfold. In her newly isolated world the only indication she had he was no longer in the room was when she heard the top stair creak under his weight as it always did.

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About Razz

I'm a creative dominant type with a love of BDSM and fetishism. This blog is an outlet, so don't take anything you see or read too seriously.

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