A Few Short Tales of Trapped Females

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Lucy - My No. 1 Fan

A surprise visitor turns up out of the blue...and ends up staying for quite some time.

I’m not sure how she found her way to my door, but find it she did. It was Sunday afternoon and suddenly, there she was on my doorstep, larger than life and totally out of the blue.

“Hi, my name’s Lucy. Are you Steve, the guy who writes bondage stories on the internet?”

I nodded, rather dumbfounded that she should know who I was.

“I’m a big fan of your work.”

This opening exchange completely wrong footed me, and it took me a second or two to gather my thoughts. A hundred questions immediately flooded into my brain, but only one formed itself into a sentence and made it past my lips.

“How did you find out where I live?”

All I got back was a smile and the cryptic reply,

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

Still slightly shell-shocked by this unexpected visit, I looked her up and down. She was certainly a very attractive girl. Slim with a good figure, pretty face and long blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders and almost reached her waist. She was wearing a long, black leather coat that came down past her knees. Black leather boots adorned her feet and the visible part of her legs. What was I supposed to do? Luckily, my visitor was not backwards in coming forwards.

“Can I come in? It’s freezing out here.”

In a daze, I found myself stepping to one side and allowing her into the hallway.

“You’re a fan of my work, you say? Couldn’t you have emailed me? My address is available on all the sites I publish on.”

She turned and looked straight at me, an enigmatic smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“But that’s not why I’m here. I find your writing inspiring and I get really wrapped up in the characters and the drama you create. To be honest with you, I find that your stories really turn me on. I always dream that I’m the damsel in distress that gets tied up, but I want more than just dreams. You see, up to now I’ve not been able to find a playmate that’s on the same wavelength when it comes to bondage. Put bluntly, I want you to initiate me into the world of tight restraints.”

As she came out with this monologue, she unbuckled the belt on her coat and pulled it aside. To my amazement and - I have to say – great delight, I saw that she was clothed from the neck downwards in a one piece black spandex cat-suit which clung tightly to every inch of her body. This was too good to be true. But there was one thing nagging at the back of my mind.

“How old are you?”

Before the words were even out of my mouth, she seemed to have anticipated the question. Delving into the pocket of her coat, she quickly retrieved a passport, as if she knew that I’d question her on this and had come prepared.

“I’m eighteen. Here, I can prove it.”

She handed me this official and clearly bona-fide document, which I quickly scrutinised. The photograph was definitely of her, it was immediately apparent, and the date of birth confirmed that she was indeed eighteen; getting on for nineteen in fact. When I raised my eyes again I saw that she’d slipped her arms out of the coat and let it fall to the floor. Now I could fully appreciate her figure, and what I encountered excited me greatly. That cat-suit showed her long legs and slender body off to perfection.

“I know from reading your work that you prefer your women in tighter-than-tight spandex, so what do you think? Clinging enough for you?”

“You look absolutely stunning.”

This was all I could think of to say at that moment. She smiled and sauntered slowly towards me.

“But I’ll look even more attractive once you’ve tied me up.”

So why not just go for it, I thought to myself? After all, it’s not every day that you get an offer like this. I was warming to the task ahead and the thought of having her bound, helpless and at my mercy was causing me to get rather hot under the collar. I tried to contain my excitement, however, and not get too carried away in case my over-enthusiasm frightened her off. I decided to offer her a choice.

“Ok, so do you have any preference about how you’d like to be tied? Handcuffs maybe? Ropes? Tights encasement perhaps?”

I was trying to sound as nonchalant as I could - as if strange women came to my door every day demanding to be trussed up – but I’m sure my nervousness, not to mention my growing zeal, must have shown. Lucy, however, seemed totally at ease with the situation, and spoke with complete self-assurance.

“Oh I don’t mind. I’ll leave that up to you. Just as long as it’s tight and inescapable, that’s all I ask for.”

Still in a daze over the happenings of the past few minutes, I walked across to the sofa, behind which there was a stash of ropes and other bondage equipment. As she saw me open the bag and pull out the first piece of rope, her face lit up and she turned her back on me, placing her hands together, palm to palm, as she did so.

Lucy let out a low gasp as I wrapped the rope around her wrists, before pulling it tight. It was evident that this wasn’t a gasp of pain or fear, however, but one born of anticipation and longing. I cinched the cord and knotted it securely where I knew her twisting fingers wouldn’t be able to reach.

“There, how does that feel?”

She tentatively tried to part her hands, but failed dismally.

“Perfect. More of the same please.”

This was exactly my intention, but before I added more ropes, I had decided that something else was needed.

Still with her back to me, the first inkling she received that she was to be blindfolded must have been when she heard the end of the tape being ripped from the spool. She started to turn to see what was afoot, but that was the last thing she witnessed, as I quickly placed the six inch long strip of grey duct tape over her eyes. The gasp she gave this time was one of complete surprise, but the giggling sound that immediately followed informed me that she was delighted with this unexpected sensory blackout. Without delay, I grabbed the next length of rope and began the task of binding her to the high standards that she was clearly expecting and relishing. Being young and supple, her elbows nearly touched as I gently eased them together and wound this latest affront to her liberty around her arms just below the joint.


That was the one word command that she uttered as I began to cinch this bond. I duly obliged.

And so it continued for several minutes, with me placing more ropes around my willing captive’s body and limbs, while she in turn cajoled and goaded me into rendering her ever more helpless.

“Come on, you can do better than that.”

She remarked at one point, as one particular bond failed to live up to her high expectations. It seemed that ‘better’ in Lucy’s language, was a synonym for tighter or more restrictive. And of course, I was more than willing to accommodate her in this regard.

Soon, I had relieved Lucy of her boots and had her sitting on the carpeted floor, her legs bound securely at the ankles and both below and above the knees. I’d also lashed her already severely restrained arms to her back in a strict lattice-work body harness. Now for the piece-de-resistance.

Taking a further piece of rope, I wrapped this around my prisoner’s slim waist, created reverse tension and pulled this as tight as I could. Looping the cord around her again, I threaded it through the bight, before passing the ends between her legs from back to front. Given that her lower limbs were already bound in three places, the gap between her thighs with which I had to work was minimal, to say the least, and even if I’d wanted to, it would have been impossible to complete this part of her bondage without a certain amount of intimate contact taking place. Luckily, Lucy seemed unconcerned by the intrusive fingers that slid across the smooth spandex of her leg-wear. In fact, from the contented sighs and gentle moans of contentment that passed her lips every few seconds, she was quite enjoying herself. But these gasps and groans were nothing compared to the sound she made when, having brought the cord back up to her waist, I pulled it as high into her most sensitive area as I could. The squeal of delight that rang around the room informed me that I’d hit the spot.

“Oh Steve, that feels SO good!”

I yanked the bond that extra few millimetres higher, which again produced a shriek of joy, followed by a prolonged bout of joyous giggling. But although this bond may well prove to be the highlight of Lucy’s stay here, my work was still not finished yet.

Rolling my submissive captive onto her stomach, I quickly pulled her feet up behind her and within seconds had attached the ankle bond to its counterpart around her wrists. Securing the knot back behind her legs, where she wouldn’t be able to reach it, I now had her in a strict hog-tie, from which escape was impossible. Another satisfied purring sound told me that my play partner had no complaints about my creative talents with the ropes. There was just one more piece of the jigsaw needed before my work here was complete, however.

“Hold your head up and open your mouth nice and wide.”

I was now standing astride the totally trussed and trapped woman, who without hesitation did as she was asked. I dare say that she had some idea what was coming next. Without further ado, I slid the bright red ball-gag into the cavity behind her teeth and pulled the attached leather straps around her head, before buckling them together securely to ensure that she couldn’t spit the rubber sound muffler out again.

“Is that comfortable?”

The answer I received was unintelligible, but her demeanour suggested that she was in no way upset or troubled by this latest hindrance.

“Good, so what I’m going to do now is leave you to deal with this situation for a couple of hours. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of ways to amuse yourself.”

I walked towards the door and pretended to exit the room. I had no intention of simply leaving her unattended, however, as I wanted to watch to see what she got up to. I slammed the door and stood as still as I possibly could, making no sound, in the hope that she would think she was now alone.

Lucy began by stretching her fettered limbs to the limits that her bonds would allow. Her fingers explored the rope that hog-tied her momentarily, before contorting around to claw in the direction of the wrist rope that bit with unforgiving inflexibility into her tender white flesh. It was immediately obvious, however, that this experimentation owed nothing to fear or panic, but was simply a way for this bondage virgin to explore the extent to which her mobility had been curtailed, as well as to heighten awareness of the futility of her plight and thus increase her pleasure. And after a few seconds, she seemed to get the message that there was simply no way that she could release herself from the obstinate webbing that kept her in such a state of rope-fuelled inertia. With this knowledge came a long sigh of contentment.

But it was the crotch rope that soon had her attention, and on which she now concentrated all her efforts. I watched as the fingers of her right hand manoeuvred their way beneath the taut ligature that ran down her butt crack, before beginning to jerk this pleasure-inducing bond back and forth; slowly at first then building up to a crescendo. As her momentum increased, I watched as she thrust her pelvis upwards, and saw the drum-tight spandex on her pert arse rise as high into the air as her bondage would allow. Seconds later, her whole body seemed to convulse, and a low moan of pure pleasure filled the room, as her rhythmic endeavours reached fever pitch. Suddenly, her climax exploded in her, accompanied by another, long drawn out groan which seemed indicative of the utter surprise and delight at the magnitude of her ecstasy.

All too soon, however, it was over, and I watched her body relax and fall limply back to the carpet, as she basked in the afterglow of her glorious achievement. Panting heavily after her exertions, she fought to take air into her nostrils, whilst every so often a satisfied whimper slipped past her gag. With her head turned towards me, I could see strings of saliva oozing out from the corners of her mouth and, in slow motion, gradually drip onto the carpet; with the bright red gob-stopper that peeked from between her matching ruby lips glistening in the late afternoon light.

For several minutes, apart from the occasional twitch of her fingers, or a slight movement of her head as she tried to find the most comfortable position to rest in, she remained motionless. And after a short while, her breathing returned to a regular rhythm, and it soon became apparent that she had fallen into a peaceful sleep; her recent physical activities having seemingly sapped her of energy.

I took this as my cue to leave, opening and closing the door with the utmost care, so as not to disturb her slumbers.

My initial intention, after leaving Lucy to rest and recuperate, was to do as I’d originally informed her and not return for a couple of hours. However, the thought of this gorgeous creature all bound and gagged in my living room constantly haunted me, and I knew that I would be unable to stay away for too long. I tried doing a few jobs around the house, but nothing seemed to distract me from the image in my mind’s eye of Lucy tied and helpless in her tight spandex outfit.

So, only half an hour after I’d left, I walked back into the living room to view my lovely captive. She was lying motionless when I first entered, and my initial assumption was that she was still asleep. But with the opening of the door, her head turned sightlessly in my direction. She was still as helpless as when I’d last laid eyes on her, and the fingers of drool still hung from her perpetually open mouth. As she sensed my approach, she wriggled her hips slightly and let out a snort of laughter, as if trying to tell me that she was still at ease in her predicament. Even so, I thought it polite to enquire as to her wellbeing.

“So, are you ok?”

She giggled again and offered an affirmative “Aha” through her gag.

I knelt down beside her head.

“Do you want me to let you out yet?”

She vehemently shook her head and made sounds that told me, in no uncertain terms, that the very idea of freedom was anathema to her at that moment. This was as I’d hoped.

Swiftly, I took her by the shoulders and turned her over so she was lying on her side, facing me. She gave a little squeal at this unforeseen physical contact, but her squirming motion suggested that she relished my firm yet gentle touch. This was all the encouragement I needed. Without giving any advance warning, my hands clasped her spandex covered breasts and began to stroke and caress her. Almost immediately, I saw her nipples become hard and erect, which coincided with her throwing her head back and uttering a long, drawn out, blissful moan of elation. I fondled her in this manner for maybe half a minute, then allowed my left hand to wander slowly downwards until it reached the rope belt at her waist, where it met at right angles with the cord that ran between her legs. Inserting my fingers between this and the smooth spandex that swathed her abdomen, I began to yank the taut ligature up and down; gently at first, then gradually becoming more forceful as the seconds passed. Lucy’s delight at this new pastime was plain straight away, as her thrilled outbursts and lustful moans made evident. And within seconds of her realising the nature of my intentions, her body began to twitch and buck, and in no time at all her whole torso was twisting and writhing in sheer unadulterated joy. Attuning my actions to her natural rhythm, I kept tugging on the rope, and before long Lucy’s second orgasm of the afternoon burst forth, even more violently than the first, solo induced effort. Her whole body reared upwards and the piercing scream of glee that issued through the ball-gag made the whole room vibrate. For several minutes this episode continued, with her beseeching me to keep going. I kept working the rope backwards and forwards between her legs, and she in turn seemed to manage to prolong the throes of ecstasy in tandem with my prompting.

All good things eventually have to come to an end, however, and finally physical exhaustion took its toll. Reluctantly it seemed, her whole body suddenly went limp and she collapsed back onto the floor, fighting for breath and groaning with sheer delight at the same time. Gently, I slid my fingers out from beneath the crotch rope.

So what happens next? That was the question that was running through my head as Lucy rested on my living room carpet. Had her appetite for being bound and gagged been satiated now? Had she now ticked off the box marked ‘tight bondage’ from her ‘to do’ list? Was she now looking to regain her freedom and move onto something new? …

…Apparently not.

“That was wonderful.”

Her exclamation, after maybe five minutes of silent contemplation, was muffled but just about comprehensible, despite the rubber ball that filled her oral cavity.

“So you won’t mind if I leave you here for a bit longer, then?”

She shook her head, and tried to enunciate the words,

“You can keep me tied up for as long as you like. I really don’t want to be set free…not for a long time yet.”

Now, being a Gentleman, I’ve always subscribed to the maxim that ‘What the Lady wants, the Lady gets’…

…and I saw no reason to stray from this principle now.

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