MISTAKEN IDENTITY
‘Oh, just who could that be, I’ve only just got in?’ I asked myself as the front doorbell rang. As I said, I’d only just arrived home from work, all I was wearing was my lingerie, including sheer nylon stockings and one of my satin dressing gowns over that. I had sat myself down to relax when the sound of my doorbell’s ring tone disturbed my rest. ‘Suppose I’d better answer it then.’
I ambled over to the door, undid the latch, and was just starting to open it when a violent shove from the other side caught me completely by surprise, resulting in firstly the door opening fully very quickly, me very nearly losing my balance as a consequence, and lastly this powerful but extremely sexy woman entering my home without so much as a ‘by your leave’ from myself, as if it was her who, in fact, owned the house.
The next thing I knew was that she had grabbed me, spun me around, which wasn’t difficult as I had yet to regain my full balance, and pushed me hard against the wall, grabbing my arms in a vice like grip.
“Number twenty-two?†She asked abruptly. Totally shocked, I actually answered in the affirmative. “Good, then I’ve got the right address!†As she was talking, she pulled my dressing gown away from my body, took hold of its belt, using it to securely, and I do mean securely, tie my wrists together, in a manner that suggested this action wasn’t new to her and also, that she knew exactly what she was doing. I was now her captive; firmly held in her hands.
“So, you’re the bitch who’s been shagging my husband, eh? Well, there’s a price you’re going to have to pay for that privilege, tart! Yes, ‘what’s good for the goose is good enough for the gander’ too!†I could feel the strap-on that she wore through her thin dress and just knew where this was going. “You shagged my man, bitch, so now I’m going to shag you! Fair enough, don’t you think? Oh, and I’ll be tying you to your own bed whilst I’m doing it. So missy, lead on. BEDROOM NOW!â€
Thing is she’d got things completely wrong. I’d never met, let alone gone to bed with her man, truth be told I much preferred sharing a bed with another woman to be honest. Once the initial shock had worn off, I began to work out just what she’d got right, but also what she’d guessed very much incorrectly.
You see the address of my home is twenty-two, Acacia Avenue. Around the corner was Acacia Drive, and I knew that the woman who lived in the dwelling numbered twenty-two of THAT road was a right slag, and I could well believe that she had played away with my captor’s male.
Now surely it wouldn’t have been too difficult to convince my assailant of this. All she needed to do was to calm down a fraction, listen to what I told her, the truth as it happens, and this whole situation could be diffused. Surely?
But I made no attempt whatsoever to take that course of action. By saying nothing which I did, it implied, although I didn’t actually admit to the crime that she accused me of, contrary to the real truth, that I was guilty. Why on earth did I do that, to allow her, by implication, to be convinced of any wrongdoing? I was in fact, going to allow her to carry out an effectual rape of me, I was basically permitting her to tie me to my own bed, and her existing bondage of my arms told me that I wouldn’t be able to escape from her once she’d done so. Why?
The answer to that question possibly lies within that old saying, ‘never look a gift horse in the mouth.’ But how, I hear you all ask? For, and be in NO doubt about this, just what this unknown woman was threatening to do to me, was one of my all-time sexual fantasies. I’ve always wanted to be taken captive by a strong, sexy woman and find myself totally subjected to HER will, and sexuality.
For just that very short glance of my, now captor, informed me that this woman fulfilled all of those requirements, and she’d already started to send the blood coursing around my body, whilst my pussy started to become almost uncomfortably wet! But, and maybe this is the point, not only was the level of excitement extremely high, but there was a fair measure of danger too, I mean just who was this woman? What was she capable of, in her pursuit of ’justice’ for the perceived ‘harm’ that I had angered her with so much? Just how far would she go in abusing me to obtain said retribution? I should really have been quite scared, but all I could think of, at that precise moment, while I ascended the stairs to lead her to my bedroom, was just how hard and fast was she going to shag me, once I was fastened to my own bed? And boy, DID I WANT THAT? With perversely, said danger simply adding to said level of excitement. After all, what the hell was the point of a sexual fantasy, if, given a chance to fulfil it, you refuse to accept it, and pass it up? Quite!
Now, many will argue that I should, and possibly could, had made her capture of me far harder, difficult to such a degree that the effort may well have been abandoned? But then maybe not, remember not only was she clearly bigger and stronger than me, but she’d had the complete element of surprise in her favour too. She’d caught me out. Anyway, as I walked into my own bedroom, after my captor had kindly opened the door for me, it seemed all too late for any resistance to her plans for me now. Whether I could have fended her off was utterly academic at this juncture, she had already taken me as her carnal captive and simply intended to crank up the level of my bondage to her.
And something else. I don’t know, call it gut instinct if you like, but I sensed a certain positive presence within this female. It was as if she was sending vibes in my direction, vibes that were communicating a message, one that said to me, ‘sure I’m going to have some fun with you, but I will do you NO real harm whatsoever.’ I can’t describe just how she passed this reassurance to me, it certainly wasn’t in the form of direct speech, but I felt it was there. Or possibly purely because I wanted it to be, maybe I was deluding myself after all, and I would come to some real harm? But no, even now I can’t begin to justify it, I had this overwhelming sense that I really could trust this woman, that she didn’t wish to hurt me.
What she did want, directing me to do exactly that, was to stand still near to my bed, as she pulled down my satin panties, good job I’d fed my suspenders under them, so she could, and did, remove them from my form. Then she undid the clasp of my bra, but with my hands tied she wasn’t able to remove it from my body, just yet. She would do in due course, because she had planned a use for it, but for now I was oblivious to just what her devious mind planned to do with it. Maybe for the best!
Meanwhile she’d spotted, in many ways just as I hoped that she would, another almost identical satin dressing gown, to the one that lay forlornly near to my front door. Again, it wasn’t the gown itself that had caught her eye, but the belt that hung off of it. Seconds later said belt, a ready-made bondage tie no less, was in her hands. “Onto the bed with you, tart!†Once, and with some degree of difficulty, remember I still had my arms tied together behind my back, I’d complied, I received another direction from her. “Spread out your legs!â€
Now things did appear to deviate from the direction I had anticipated. For with this second belt, she looped my left ankle, before securely fastening my left leg to that corner be post of the solid lower bed frame. Nothing too unusual in that, surely?
True enough, but her next action, one that did surprise me, was to release my arms from their bondage together, re-employing the belt that had held them to each other, to imprison my right leg to the right-hand lower corner bed post. That was my legs dealt with admittedly, but now my arms were free. To a degree that is.
For I was to discover that very real fact that it’s almost impossible to free oneself from a bed even if it’s only your legs spread out and in bondage. Not that I was even considering an escape attempt, but her recent action of undoing my arms, did shock me to quite an extent. What did she plan to do, specifically to me, now?
Time for my, temporarily discarded, brassiere to re-enter the equation. She took hold of my left hand, wrapping one of the bra’s cups around my hand, tightly, so much so in fact that I was forced to shape my hand in a tight fist shape. Rendering my fingers to be practically useless. Skilfully using the straps of the side of the item of lingerie, she tied my hand firmly within that cup, certainly it could not release itself in any way, without any outside help. Now was when her genius for this bondage of my body, really took shape.
For she pulled the bra, complete with its captive, my hand, right to the bed post, wrapping it around, before she also tied my already bound hand into the other cup. Thus, creating a totally secure and inescapable bond, fastening that limb of mine to the bed post in a manner that ensured it would remain there for as long as she wished it to.
Unless me other hand freed it of course. What would she use to bind that? Would she ask me where my lingerie collection was in order to utilise another one of my bras? Oh no, now was the time when she knelt on the bed, between my captured legs. And simply pulled her dress right over her head, allowing me the first sight of her strap-on tool. Pink, wide and long! Ready for my soaking wet pussy, no doubt!
But for the present moment, it was her own bra, made of black satin just like mine, which occupied her attentions. Swiftly she removed it, and roughly a minute later my bondage to my own bed was complete, I was tied utterly securely to the four corner bed posts, her bra holding my right hand in her captivity just as my own fastened my left hand. I WAS HERS!
