Old Friends (M/F)

[Z-13]

“It’s so good to see you!”
Cole and I embraced in an awkward hug. We hadn’t seen one another for over two years now — we’d had a sort of fling my freshman year of college, before he’d left the country. Now, he was back.
“It’s good to see you too, Leila.” He smiled. “Should we go in? It’s pretty cold.”
“Let’s!” I led the way into my apartment. It was going to be empty for several days, aside from me, as my roommate was visiting family. So Cole and I were alone. We sat on the couch.
I was a thin, short, 5”2 brunette with dark brown eyes and long dark hair to match. People my whole life have teased me over being short and petite, especially for my small hands. But though I was short, I at least considered myself to be somewhat attractive. I was wearing a long-sleeved gray shirt that was tight-fitting, and tight black jeans that complemented my figure.
Cole was tall, dark-haired, and handsome. He had stubble along his jawline and curly hair that fell into his dark eyes. He all but towered over me, almost reaching six foot. He wore a leather jacket and a white t-shirt with blue jeans.
“Please make yourself comfortable. Can I make you some hot cocoa?” I asked as we came inside.
“I’d love some.” He said with a warm smile. I disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later, I emerged holding a pair of mugs… and to my horror, Cole was holding a drawstring bag I’d lazily stashed inside the drawer, near the couch. A drawstring bag filled with rope, tape, and cords.
My face flushed, and my mouth gaped open and closed like a fish. Cole turned to me, and cocked an eyebrow.
“Miss Leila. I didn’t take you for this kind of girl.” He laughed.
I sat beside him and handed him his mug, face still as red as a tomato. “I’m sorry you had to find that. I, uh, it’s for stress relief. You know?”
“More than you, shortie.” He bumped me with his elbow. For some reason, it sent butterflies exploding through my stomach.
“More than me?” I copied his raised eyebrow. “Do you have something to admit, Mister Cole?”
He gave me that crooked grin again. “Wait here.”
He put his cocoa down and disappeared out the door. I glared at the drawstring bag like it’d been found on purpose to embarrass me.
A few minutes later, Cole returned with a duffel bag, which he dropped heavily on the carpeted floor in front of me. I stared at it in shock.
“What’s all that?” I asked. My voice came out as a kind of squeak.
“My own personal collection. Only, I’ve never really had the chance to use any of it.” He shrugged. “I was kinda hoping… that maybe, you’d like to break it in with me. Seeing as, well, you know.” He gestured lamely to my bag.
If I thought my face had been flushed before, it was nothing compared to now. I could hear my blood pulsing past my ears.
“Well.” I said in a small voice, placing my mug on the table next to me. “If that’s what you want.”
He sat next to me again, turning my face gently to look into his eyes. “No, Leila. It has to be what you want.”
His brown eyes were warm. Meekly, I nodded.
“I’ve never been really tied up before.” I admitted. “I’m terrible at doing it to myself.”
“It’ll be a first for both of us.” Cole said with a smile. He played with a lock of my dark hair for a moment. “We can go slow.”
I turned to look at his duffel bag. “What’s in your bag of mysteries?”
His eyes twinkled. “Surprises. If you wanna find out, you gotta say the words.”
“Alright, fine.” I rolled my eyes at him. Then, in a smaller voice, “Let’s do it.”
He kissed me on the cheek, and suddenly I was a mess of nerves and butterflies again. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for a long time.”
He started by pulling the rope from my bag. “Put your hands behind your back, babe,” he ordered with a grin. Just those words sent a rush of heat through my body. I turned around, putting my arms behind me. I felt a loop of rope slide around my wrists.
His lips suddenly touched my ear. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.”
“Oh, ha, ha,” I joked back. In response, he tightened the rope, and I bit back a yelp of surprise. He wound it around my wrists a few more times, then finally, cinched it in the middle and tied it off where I couldn’t reach.
“How’s that feel? Not too tight?” He asked.
I tested the bonds tentatively, my fingers wriggling like worms looking for the knot, but it was tied off too high up. I then struggled playfully, but the rope was secure, and didn’t so much as budge. “It’s fine,” I said. “But you could do better.”
He patted my head. “Oh, my naive little captive. We’re just getting started.”
With that, he looped another rope around my forearms, and pulled it tight. The rope was secure but not painful, and squeezed me like a snake. He cinched it off and my arms felt even more melded together than before. He didn’t pause as he moved up to my elbows, and I felt a twinge of fear as the next loop of rope started to pull them together, just below the joint.
“Tell me when to stop.” He said. I waited until a slight burn began in my shoulders before I yielded and told him to stop. They were closer than I thought I’d be able to handle, but not quite touching.
Cole cinched them off and they became that much more secure, and I bit my lip to prevent making any noise. He then proceeded to tie yet another loop above my elbows, tightening them just a little closer together. The burn increased, but I barely cared as a pulse of excitement coursed through my body.
“Test that out,” he said, leaning back to admire his handiwork. I wriggled my arms, but they were practically melded together. I then struggled a little harder, rocking my shoulders back and forth, grunting, but by the time I’d given up, I’d gotten nowhere.
I stood, panting a little bit, and with a mischievous smile. He watched me with a sly smile of his own. “Where do you think you’re going?” He laughed.
My grin widened. “I’m escaping. Duh.” I turned to make a run for it, and danced away from his hand as he tried to grab me. I barely made it a few paces before his arms crushed my chest and he threw me onto the couch with a breathless giggle.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said dramatically, and then flipped me over onto my stomach. I kicked at him, but with my arms bound as securely as they were I was powerless to resist as he pulled off my tennis shoes and my socks, throwing them aside.
“Your feet are so tiny!” He laughed. I squirmed like a worm on a hook as he crooked my feet in his arms and began to tickle them. I squeaked and bucked, but I was powerless to do anything aside from wiggle my toes and fingers and futilely try to pull my legs away.
Finally, when we were both out of breath, he pulled his duffel bag over with his foot and dragged it over to him, still holding on to my legs. I struggled playfully as I heard him unzip it and pull something out, but I couldn’t see what. It was easy to guess, though, and I was proven right when I felt more rope loop around my ankles and pull tight.
“Let me go,” I laughed, trying to kick at him again, but he pulled the rope tighter and cinched my ankles so tightly I gasped, then tied it off. I pushed my feet up towards my butt, exploring for the knot with reaching fingers.
“No you don’t,” he growled playfully, and yanked my legs back. I heard him grab something else out of his bag, and something off the floor. I turned and could scarcely see him holding my own socks and a roll of duct tape.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, desperately trying to free my arms. To no avail, of course — the rope was so secure that I could barely move them.
“Taking care of your curious little hands.” With that, he shoved a sock over my right hand, pulling it up so tight that it was forced into a balled up fist. He then took the duct tape and wrapped it around my wrist just below the binding, keeping the sock taped there, and then around the sock as well. He kept going until my hand was a useless ball of cloth and tape, and repeated the process on my left hand.
I did my best to pull free, but he’d taped my hands so tightly that they were stuck in little fists. I laughed, a bit taken aback by the brutality of it.
“You’re taking no half measures,” I commented. In response, he slapped my ass, and I yelped in surprise.
“Of course not.” Cole said, looping a second rope around my calves. “You’re much too slippery to take any chances.”
He pulled the rope tight, and I winced a bit. I wondered when he’d let me go — I realized I hadn’t asked just how far he wanted to take this little game.
But that moment of brief concern was forgotten as he cinched off the calf rope, and moved on to tying another just below my knees. A shudder of pleasure went through my body as my feeling of helplessness grew. There was absolutely no way I would be able to escape on my own, now. This was much more exciting than my self-bondage adventures, in which anything I did had to have some kind of an easy escape.
He repeated the process above and below my knees. Then, thinking to himself, he pulled me up into a sitting position. I tested my leg bonds, but quickly realized it was no use to struggle or wiggle out of them. He’d tied them together brutally tight, since the jeans gave me more protection against the bite of the rope.
“What now?” I asked, as he tied a rope around the one connected to my wrists.
“You just sit there and look pretty.” He told me. “I’ll deal with the rest.”
He then tied that rope around my stomach, looping it around several times, tightly. My breath hitched at his touch, and at the squeeze of the rope. Even then, there was still quite a bit of length hanging off the small of my back, below my tied hands.
Cole had a plan for that, though. He pulled me to my feet, and I gasped as he poked the ends of the rope in-between my thighs. I knew what he was planning, and already felt excitement blooming inside my abdomen.
Without warning, Cole grabbed the two ends of the rope and pulled it tight against my crotch. I gasped as he pushed me back into the couch to pull it even tighter. I squirmed pathetically, panting, as it rubbed in-between my cheeks and pressed into me.
“It’s tight!” I whimpered. He responded with another quick jerk, and I winced.
“You’ll thank me later,” he said with a wink, as he tied it off brutally tight at the front of my stomach, sure to erase any slack in the process. Now, not only were my mittened hands tied to my back, but any attempt to wiggle my arms or yank them away sent all sorts of sensations rushing through my most tender parts.
Satisfied with his work, Cole moved back to my legs, where he wound another two loops around my upper thighs, gluing my legs even more securely together. In the past I’d found that thigh ropes slipped off easily with wiggling — but with how tight Cole cinched them, they didn’t so much as budge as I tested out my new bonds. He stood back and watched me for a moment, my struggling much more hindered than before due the the addition of the crotch rope. I kicked my bound legs pathetically, and Cole laughed as I pouted at him.
“Still too much wiggle room, I think.” He said, and I gaped at him. How could he possibly add anything else to this?
My question was answered momentarily. Cole grabbed my bound legs and spun me on the couch so that I was laying on the back with my feet held in the air. I squirmed, uncomfortable at the bite of the rope between my legs. He then wound another loop of rope around the soles of my feet, pulling tight and cinching them together. Now, even my feet were melded together. Cole then brought out a bit of yarn, and tied my big toes together, careful to do it gently. He even cinched them!
Still, he wasn’t satisfied. Cole sat me up again and began weaving a rope around my chest, above and below my breasts, under my armpits and behind my neck. He tied it expertly, sure to tie the knots in the front(where even if my hands were free from the mitts, I would never be able to reach them). The result was an intricate rope harness, causing my humble breasts to bulge out like they never had before. He even looped over my arms as well, ensuring I couldn’t pull them any further away from my body.
He laughed when he saw my expression. “You’re so cute when you pout,” he said. He pulled me toward him by the ropes around my chest and kissed me on the forehead.
“Screw you, Cole,” I said, struggling. It was no use of course.
He sat next to me on the couch, with a wicked grin. He held up his phone — it was open to the timer app, which had been set for 10 minutes.
“Here’s the deal,” he told me. “You have ten minutes to escape. If you are able to, I’ll let you tie me up.”
I wasn’t going to lie, revenge sounded tempting. I wriggled my bound arms. “If I can’t?”
“Then I get to keep you captive as long as I want.” He winked. “So? What’ll it be?”
It was risky, I knew. And I didn’t think I could escape my current predicament all that easily. But I had an idea. “All right,” I told him. “Start the timer.”
“Go!” He pressed the button and it started counting down. I wasted no time wriggling beneath the pressure of the ropes, testing my bonds. My muffled fingers were helpless, even if I could have reached any of the ropes around my wrists.
I stood up, balancing precariously on my bound feet, tied toes aching. With a grunt, I started hopping towards my room.
Cole laughed but he sounded nervous. “And where do you think you’re going?”
“You didn’t say anything about me using tools,” I quipped back, careful not to trip and fall on my face.
Cole followed me, watching, as I came to the door. Like an idiot I’d left the door closed. Then again, I hadn’t expected to be tied up and with mittened fingers the next time I was going to open it.
Muttering a curse, I maneuvered myself so that my back was to the door, and experimentally felt for the handle with my wrapped-up hands. With my fingers balled into fists inside the socks and duct tape, it was going to be trickier than I thought, and I had to tug against the rope securing my fists to my back and crotch to even reach the handle.
I positioned them on the door knob and tried to turn it. Unfortunately I had no grip, and the handle fell back to its original position. But I was not to be deterred. I kept trying for the next few minutes, until at last, the door opened up a crack. By that time, my crotch was throbbing with heat.
“Five minutes,” Cole told me, coming up beside me to show me his phone. “You sure your plan will pay off?”
“Maybe if you stop distracting me,” I told him, and went to hop forward into my bedroom. I wasn’t expecting his foot to be in the way, though, and I crashed heavily to the carpet.
My shoulder and hip took the brunt of the impact. I rolled over, wincing in pain — I was sure to have bruises later.
Furious, I said, “you cheated!”
Cole shrugged innocently. “We never specified I couldn’t put obstacles in your way.”
Grumbling, I rolled onto my stomach. It took me another two minutes to get back up — as Cole gleefully reminded me. Without the use of my hands, and with legs bound, it was a tricky ordeal, and I had to use the wall as a crutch.
At last on my feet again, I hopped over to my desk as quickly as I could, the weight of the time limit bearing down on my shoulders. There, in my pencil cup, was my savior — a pair of scissors.
I leaned forward, and grabbed them with my teeth. After that, I was able to drop them onto the floor, where I sat down beside them.
“One minute left,” Cole taunted.
Clenching my teeth, I laid on the ground and maneuvered myself as quickly as I could with my back to the scissors. It took some time to locate them, but I quickly realized with mittened hands, there was no way for me to effectively use them, unlike the door handle.
I tried, anyway, managing to pick them up but unable to position the blades around any of the ropes entrapping my arms.
A minute later, Cole’s timer went off, and I went limp, defeated. Cole scooped up the scissors.
“A noble effort,” he croned, putting them back into my pencil cup. “But you failed. Ready to become my official prisoner?”
I wriggled in his ropes, lying on my back to look him in the eyes. “Cole,” I said seriously, “I think I need a break, first. My arms are killing me, and I think the crotch rope is too—”
Before I could finish, Cole pounced, kneeling over me and pressing his hand against my mouth. “Shh,” he said, with a wicked grin. “You lost your right to opt out when you agreed to my challenge. You belong to me, now.”

[TightsBound]

Great story so far! Descriptive and well written, and has me anxiously awaiting part 2. Excellent choice of bonds, from shoulders to toes Thanks for writing!

[laz]

interesting start

[hafnermg]

Great start!! Looking forward to the next chapter!!!!

[CarouselCowboy13]

Great and Awesome Start

[Madame_du_Barry]

Great story!

[sweetvillain]

Very nice and sweet story

[Z-13]

Confused and now frightened, I struggled in Cole’s grip. I tried to talk, tell him I was serious, that I really needed a break, but beneath his hand it all came out as gibberish.
Cole scooped me up with his free arm, sure to keep his hand pressed firmly across my face as he stood. He then half-dragged, half carried me back into the living room. I struggled for all I was worth, but trapped as I was, not to mention how much stronger than me Cole was, I wasn’t going anywhere.
Keeping me pressed up against him by my mouth, he knelt down next to his duffel bag and pulled something out of it. When he brought it around to my face I saw it was a bandana.
“Open up,” he told me.
He pressed the bandana up against my lips, but I turned my head side to side, keeping my jaw clamped shut. There was no way I’d let him gag me!
But I was at a major disadvantage. Cole’s fingers pinched my nostrils shut, and suddenly air was in short supply. Valiantly I kept fighting for as long as I could, but eventually, I had to open my mouth for a breath of air. Cole wasted no time stuffing the bandana into my mouth, poking his fingers to make sure it filled every crevice.
The handgag came back as Cole fished something else from his duffel bag of horrors. I heard the jingling of metal. “This,” Cole whispered in my ear, “is your punishment for being a bad sport. You lost fair and square, but you couldn’t stay quiet and accept the loss. So now, I’ll make sure you stay quiet.”
Without warning, Cole pressed something into my mouth. It was a small, plastic bulb that pressed down onto my tongue and shoved the bandana deeper into my mouth. I gagged on it.
The bulb was connected to a wide panel of leather, which was connected to various straps coming off it. The panel conformed to my lips, and Cole pulled the straps to the sides of it tight before buckling them tightly behind my head. I thrashed back and forth, trying to throw him off, but it was no use. I was tightly and efficiently gagged.
Next were the straps on the top of it, which went over my nose in a triangle shape and then between my eyes and above my head. As Cole tightened those straps as tightly as they would go, my entire face felt squeezed. Cole still wasn’t satisfied, and then tightened more straps that ran under my chin. Only then did he let go of me, and I realized I was in trouble.
“Mmm!” I rubbed my face against the couch, trying to loosen the gag, “Nmmph! Mm!”
Of course, it was futile. Barely a sound was able to escape the gag. Cole grabbed the back of my head, and then, to add insult to injury, I heard him buckle a padlock on over the latch.
“There we go.” He said, then patted my cheek. “Now, you’ll stay silent, like a good girl. I’m the only one who knows the passcode to that lock, so you’re stuck like that until I say so.”
“MMPH!” I thrashed in my bindings and glared daggers at Cole, but I was completely and utterly silenced. By the time I stopped fighting, the only thing I’d managed to do was tighten my bindings and rub my crotch raw.
“Well.” Cole said with a laugh. “That was quite the temper tantrum.”
He stood up again, went back to his duffel bag. He spoke as he looked through it. “Now, let’s not say I’m not compassionate. I’m going to give you one last chance to escape, Leila.”
I perked up at that, watching him carefully. I was sure to make sure the glare was obvious in my eyes.
“However, things will be a bit more difficult this time. For one: you’ll be blind.” He pulled out a leather black blindfold from his bag, and held it up to show me. I glared.
He turned me around, sliding it over my face. I began to panic, as suddenly, I was cast into darkness.
“MMPH!” I cried, struggling. “Mm hmm nmph!”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” Cole chided. Presumably, he pulled the buckle as tight as it could go, because my head was so squeezed I felt it was about to burst.
He finished, and I felt him pat my head like a dog. I fumed silently. “Next,” he said — to that I was confused, because what could possibly be next? — “I’m revising the rules. No more hopping around, no tripping, no scissors. This time, you’ll have to escape the old-fashioned way. To make sure of that, I’ll be adding to your imprisonment.”
Cole picked me up and deposited me unceremoniously onto the floor, on my stomach. I landed with a muffled “ommph.”
I then felt Cole messing with the ankle bindings — with dread, I realized he was tying another rope to them.
I thrashed around, trying to kick him off, but there would be no stopping him. Cole threaded the end of this new rope to the bindings in-between my shoulder blades, then pulled it through, bending my legs backward.
I squirmed and squealed and “mmphed” all I could, pushing my bound legs outward, trying to stop Cole from getting me into the hogtie. Unfortunately I was still no match for him, especially in my current predicament.
I felt Cole’s hand pushing against my feet as he pulled, bending my knees and forcing my legs to my butt. I cried out as my bare ankles touched my ass, forcing my back to arch. My body burned as it was forced into this new strict position, but when Cole let go of my legs, he had already pulled the rope taut and I was stuck. He wound it around my ankle bindings and my back a few more times, and then at last, tied it off between my shoulder blades.
“There we go, sweetheart.” I heard Cole’s voice in my ear. “You’re mine, now. Forever.”
“Mmmph!” I sobbed, rocking back and forth. But I could barely move.
Cole grabbed my chin and turned my blindfolded face towards him. “That is, unless you can escape this time. I’ll be nice and give you thirty minutes. If you can manage to escape even partially, I’ll let you go and you get to keep your freedom. If you don’t..”
He buckled something around my neck. It felt like a collar. The implication turned my blood to ice.
Suddenly, he grabbed the rope that plunged between my legs and pulled. I squealed, thrashing around, trying to dislodge his grip. He yanked it again, tightly, and I let loose a muffled sob.
“Time starts now!” He said, and he let go. I heard him sit on the couch in front of me. “Give it all you’ve got. You’d better put on a good show for me. After all, if you can’t escape, I could become your new master.”
I immediately struggled in my ropes, twisting this way and that, rubbing my face against the carpet, trying to force my fingers out of their prisons of cloth and tape. But Cole had been too efficient — every knot was perfectly snug, every binding cinched tightly into place. No matter how I thrashed, and bucked, and cried for release, I was trapped, and escape was impossible.
With every movement, the rope in my crotch dug deeper and deeper. I could feel myself on the brink, trapped in uncomfortable darkness, but the release just wouldn’t come. I groaned into the gag, flexing my thighs, pulling on my hands, trying to kick free of my bound ankles. Nothing I did worked.
My body ached, my frustration grew, but I still kept fighting. Cole had turned weird during all this, and I hoped he was just doing some extreme roleplay. But the thought lurked in the back of my head: what if he isn’t? What if he means what he said, that he’ll be my new master?
The thought filled me with horror, but heat rushed through me at the same time. I chewed on the gag and writhed for all I was worth.
I could barely move. Even my toes were limited in how much I could wriggle, due to that damn toe tie. With considerable effort, I was able to wobble back and forth, and fall onto my side, but that hurt my bruised shoulder. Unfortunately I found that I couldn’t really get myself back up, so I fought against the rope prison I found myself in, trapped, blind, mute, helpless.
At last, after what felt like an eternity, I heard Cole’s alarm go off. I slumped into the carpet, defeated, and exhausted. My breath came out heavily from my nose.
Cole knelt next to me. I could hear him, looming over me. “Good girl. You tried your best, but deep down you know where you truly belong, don’t you? Tied up at my feet.”
He rubbed my head as if I were a dog. I whimpered, as he tipped me back up onto my stomach, and then grabbed my jaw in his hand once again. He gently pointed my head upwards. I felt his breath hot against the hood I wore.
“Don’t worry,” he soothed. “I’ll take excellent care of you.”



(This is the end of this story, hope you enjoyed!)

[laz]

nice bondage and story telling but I'm a little disappointed about the sinister ending. It would have been better for me if it was role play on his part. So many consensual adventures could have followed for two old friends.

[sweetvillain]

A lovely story

[uglymofo]

Good story bro!

[Ovi1]

I really loved the first chapter. The tone of the second chapter was less to my liking, but it was still very well written!