Stories of Tie Up Games

I have always had fantasies about older women in bondage. Here goes.

"Carol, you're going to have to make a choice," the stranger with the gun said, her voice as cold as the metal pressed against the bank manager's temple.

The room was a whirlwind of chaos, but all Carol could hear was the steady rhythm of her own terrified breathing. The two women, dressed in black from head to toe, had burst into her quiet suburban home with a suddenness that had left her paralyzed with fear. The only light was from the hallway, casting eerie shadows across their faces.

"What do you want from me?" she managed to stutter, her voice shaking. The woman with the gun didn't flinch, her gaze as unyielding as steel. "We need you to come with us," she said, her voice firm and devoid of any hint of mercy.

The other woman stepped forward, a roll of duct tape in her hand. She ripped a piece off with a sharp sound that echoed through the room. "Take off your clothes," she ordered, her eyes never leaving Carol's. The blonde woman felt a surge of panic rising in her chest, but the coldness of the gun barrel brought her back to reality. She began to unbutton her blouse, her trembling hands betraying her fear.

As the fabric fell away, revealing her large boobs barely contained in her lacy black bra, Carol felt a strange mix of vulnerability and defiance. She unzipped her black calf-length boots and kicked them to one side, the thud they made against the floor seemed to punctuate the gravity of the situation. The woman with the gun nodded, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Keep going," she said, gesturing at Carol's skirt. With trembling fingers, Carol unzipped it and let it pool around her ankles. She was now standing in just her tights, bra and knickers, feeling more exposed than she had ever felt in her life.

The second woman took a step closer, the duct tape poised in her hand like a weapon. "Everything," she said, her voice a low growl. "We need to make sure you won't be going anywhere." The tension in the air was palpable as Carol hooked her thumbs into the waist band of her tights and pushed them down, exposing her plump bottom and chubby thighs. She stepped out of them, feeling the cold floor against her bare feet.

“Don’t stop there” the firs woman said, an evil grin forming under the black stocking over her head.

With a tremble that was more anger than fear, Carol reached behind her and unclasped the hooks. The bra fell away, her breasts swinging free in the cold room. The two kidnappers exchanged a look, a silent message passing between them. They weren't expecting their victim to be so... voluptuous.

Her black knickers followed, revealing the triangle of her pubic hair, trimmed neatly. The women didn't bother to hide their amusement at the sight of the middle-aged woman's nudity. The one with the gun turned to her accomplice. "Takin her up" she said, the smile on her face turning into a smirk.

The second woman nodded and moved closer, her eyes scanning Carol's naked body hungrily. She grabbed a handful of Carol's hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to look up. "On your knees," she barked, her voice cold and commanding.

Carol's knees hit the floor with a painful thud, she was then pushed forward so her bare breasts pressing against the cold wooden planks. The woman with the gun leaned in, her breath hot against Carol's ear. "You're going to be a good girl, aren't you?" she whispered. Carol could feel the woman's excitement, a twisted thrill that sent a shiver down her spine. She nodded frantically, not trusting her voice to speak.

The second woman grabbed the tights and knickers, wrapping them into a tight ball before shoving them into Carol's mouth, effectively silencing her. She used the duct tape to wrap around her bind her head, not caring about going over her hair as she taped over her mouth and eyes. More tape was used to bind her wrists behind her back, the sticky material cutting into her skin. They were rough, almost enjoying the sound of her muffled whimpers.

Pulled to a kneeling position, a rope was looped around Carol's chest and her elbows, pulling them back in a painful, binding chest harness. She was then picked up, the coldness of their gloved hands a stark contrast to the heat of her naked body, and force marched out of the house. Each step they took sent a jolt of pain through her as her bare feet pressed against the gravel,drive. The sound of a van's engine grew louder as they approached the front door, and she felt herself being thrown unceremoniously into the back.

Her breath was ragged, muffled by the makeshift gag as she felt the ropes tighten around her ankles. The rough fibres bit into her skin as the women expertly bound her legs together. They didn’t stop there. Another rope was wrapped around her knees, then a third used to pull her legs back towards her chest until she was in a hogtie. The pain was intense, but she bit down on the fabric in her mouth to muffle her cries, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of hearing her distress.

The engine rumbled to life beneath her, sending vibrations through the metal floor of the van. She could feel the cold metal floor pressing on her naked chest and tummy, and the frequent bumps in the road sent her body jolting. The smell of diesel and the sound of the tyres on the road were the only companions to her fear.

The journey was long and uncomfortable, every bump and turn in the road sending jolts of pain through her body. The tape across her eyes and mouth made her feel claustrophobic, the fabric of her underwear in her mouth tasting faintly of her own fear.

After what felt like an eternity, the van's engine grew quiet, the only sounds being the crunch of gravel under the tires and the occasional hoot of an owl. The vehicle came to a stop, and the women outside talked in hushed whispers. The doors opened and cool night air rushed in, sending goosebumps across Carol's bare skin. Her hog tie was released and strong hands gripped her under her arms lifting her from the van before setting her down again. Her legs were trembling from the unnatural position of the hogtie, her body shivering from cold and fear, her bare feet throbbing from the rough ground she stood on, and she could feel the sticky sweat forming on her skin from the effort of holding herself up.

They guided her , hopping unsteadily , towards what felt like a building, the door opening with a squeak that seemed to echo through the deserted night. The floor inside was cold and hard, but it was a relief from the harshness of the ground outside. "Welcome to your new home," the first woman sneered, her voice echoing in the empty space.

They tossed her onto a thin mat, then the rope was back around her ankles, tightening until she was in the same painful hogtie position from earlier. The tension grew as they worked efficiently, their movements precise and practiced. The ties dug into her skin, leaving red marks that would surely bruise.

With one last cruel yank, they stepped back, leaving her on the cold, dusty floor, her breathing labored and muffled by the gag. The sound of their boots retreating down a corridor was like the tolling of a funeral bell, each step taking a piece of her hope with it. The door slammed shut, the finality of it resonating in the silence. The lock clicked into place, sealing her fate.

Carol's heart pounded in her chest as the sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the cold, room. The two women who had kidnapped her had disappeared down the corridor, their footsteps growing fainter until the only thing she could hear was the muffled whimpering that escaped through her own gag. She squirmed against the unforgiving ropes and felt the abrasion of the thin rough mat beneath her, her voluptuous curves straining against the tight ropes that held her in place. The taste of the gag that had earlier that day been her tights and knickers offered no warmth or comfort as they filled her mouth, pressing her tongue down and serving only to remind her of the humiliation she had endured.

With a burst of desperation, she wiggled her fingers and feet, trying to find some semblance of leverage in the tightly bound knots. Each twitch of her body sent a fresh wave of pain through her limbs, but she gritted her teeth and continued her futile struggle. The coldness of the floor seeped into her skin, making her shiver, and her breasts jiggled slightly with every movement. She tried to think of some way of escape but all her idea involved her not having her hands and arms bound painfully behind her back, nor having her feet tied to her chest ropes.

Suddenly, with a grunt, she managed to roll over onto her side. The motion was jerky and painful, but it offered a slight relief from the pressure on her boobs. Now lying on her right side, the ropes bit into her left breast and underarm, causing her to arch slightly and push her right breast against the floor. She took a moment to catch her breath and adjust to the new position, feeling the coldness spread across her body.

The tape over her eyes was sticky and unyielding, tugging at the delicate skin around her eyes and mouth. She could feel her pulse in her throat, her eyes watering from the discomfort. The ropes had been drawn so tightly around her wrists and ankles that the tension was unbearable. Her skin was on fire, and she was sure she could feel the outline of the rope indents as if they were branded into her flesh.

The door to the room creaked open, sending a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. The heavy footsteps grew louder, and she braced herself for whatever was to come next. The woman who had been her sadistic tormentor during her initial capture stepped into the room, her boots thudding against the concrete floor. Despite her fear, Carol couldn't help but feel a strange anticipation, her body tensing with a mix of dread and something else—a primal instinct that had been dormant for far too long.

The woman knelt beside her, and she felt the cold steel of scissors against her skin as the tape was carefully sliced away from her mouth and eyes. The sudden release of pressure brought a moment of sweet relief, and she took a deep, shaky breath. "Don't scream," the woman warned, her voice a low, menacing purr that seemed to resonate within the very core of Carol's being. The tape fell away, taking with it a few strands of her hair and a layer of her dignity.

As the tape was peeled back, the cool air hit her exposed skin, and she flinched. Her eyes blinked rapidly, adjusting to the harsh light after hours of forced closure and pitch darkness. The room swam into focus, stark and industrial, with a single bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The smell of antiseptic cleaner filled her nostrils, mingling with the faint scent of leather and sweat. She saw the woman's gloved hand reach for a black leather blindfold, which she buckled tightly over Carol's eyes, plunging her back into darkness.

Her mouth felt parched, the fabric of the gag sticking to her dry lips, and she whimpered softly, hoping for some small act of mercy. The woman took the cue and pulled the rags out of Carol’s mouth then held a plastic bottle to her mouth, tilting it gently. The water was cold and tasted faintly metallic, but it was heavenly. Carol gulped it greedily, feeling it trickle down her throat and ease the dryness that had settled there.

“You’re going to spend a few days here with us. If you are a good girl, we can make things a bit more comfortable for you, but if you misbehave or try to escape we might have to torture you a bit.” The woman said, her voice a mix of sweetness and malice that sent a shiver down Carol’s spine.

The sound of a zipper was the next thing Carol heard, and she felt the woman’s hands on her body, pulling at the ropes around her chest and ankles. The pressure of the hogtie eased, and she felt the ropes loosen slightly. The woman's hands were cold and rough, and the way they touched her made her body react in ways she hadn’t felt in years.

As she was untied, Carol felt a strange mix of relief and fear. The tightness around her hips and knees was released, allowing her legs to straighten for the first time in what seemed like hours. The rope around her chest remained but the pressure on her elbows and shoulders was loosened, as the woman began to adjust the ropes on her arms. "Keep the blindfold on," the woman instructed, her voice still carrying the same seductive tone. “And although no one can hear you here, we’ll keep you gagged so we don’t get disturbed, and you still have that feeling of helplessness.”

The woman’s cold, rough fingers reached for Carol’s face, and she felt her tights and knickers being pushed back into her mouth. They were still damp from her saliva, and the fabric felt cold and uncomfortable as it was pushed back in. She knew what was coming next; yet was still surprised to feel a small ball gag being pressed into her mouth too. The taste of rubber filled her mouth as the gag was forced between her teeth, and she had to fight the urge to gag as the woman began to push the tights and knickers further back in. The material filled her mouth completely, and she felt the pressure of the ball against the back of her throat. The woman then tightened the straps of the gag until the fabric was snug and the sound of Carol’s muffled protests were reduced to inaudible whimpers.

“Good bye for now, sweetheart. Remember, be a good girl, and you might find your stay with us a bit more tolerable.” The woman’s footsteps retreated across the floorboards, and the door creaked shut. Carol was left in complete darkness, barely able to move or make a sound. Her heart raced as she thought about the days that might stretch out before her, filled with fear and uncertainty.

Her legs and feet felt like they had been released from a vice, and she slowly began to wiggle them, feeling the blood rush back into her numb extremities. She could feel the cool air of the room caressing her naked skin, and she shivered involuntarily. The pain in her shoulders, elbows, and wrists was a constant throb, a stark reminder of the ropes that bound her. The gag filled her mouth, the fabric and rubber creating a foul taste that she couldn’t ignore.

The room was silent except for the sound of her own breathing, which was muffled by the gag. She tried to listen for any clue that might tell her where she was or what was happening outside the room, but all she could hear was the occasional creak of the old house settling. The floor beneath her was cold and hard, and she could feel every bump and imperfection beneath her even through the rough mat. Her mind raced with questions, but she forced herself to focus on her immediate surroundings.

The cold was seeping into her bones, and she began to shiver uncontrollably. Her teeth would have chattered if it weren’t for the gag, sending vibrations through her head. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and her body tried to shrink away from the chill. She knew she needed to find some way to warm up, but the ropes around her limbs and the blindfold over her eyes and the gag made any significant movement almost impossible.

Carol’s mind was racing, trying to make sense of what was happening to her. Her thoughts swirled around like a tornado, throwing up memories of her past, her life before this moment, and fears of what might be waiting for her in the future. She was a proud, independent woman who had never felt this helpless before. The tears began to flow, and she could feel them rolling down her cheeks, soaking into the blindfold.

The minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and she had no way of knowing if it was day or night outside. The silence was eerie, and she wished she had something to keep her company, even if it was just the sound of her captor’s breathing. But she was utterly alone, left to her own thoughts and the cold, unforgiving floor beneath her. She felt the ropes digging into her skin, the tightness in her chest and the pain in her limbs, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever be free again.

Her breathing grew shallower as the gag filled her mouth, and she found herself taking slow, deliberate breaths through her nose to avoid gagging. The fabric of the tights had become soggy with her saliva, and she could feel the dampness seeping into the corners of her mouth, making her skin sticky and uncomfortable. She tried to shift her weight, to find some semblance of comfort, but every movement sent a jolt of pain through her bound body.

Atop the cold, hard floor, her mind began to wander. Memories of her past flitted through her thoughts—her children's laughter, her warm kitchen, and the gentle caress of her late husband’s hand. She felt a profound sadness that she might never experience those simple joys again, and anger at herself for not appreciating them more when she could. The quiet of her captivity was broken only by the occasional drip of water from somewhere in the house, echoing through the silence like the tick of a clock, a stark reminder of the passage of time.

Eventually, the door opened again, and a woman entered. She could hear the soft tread of her footsteps and the rustle of clothing as she approached. The woman knelt beside her, and Carol felt a warm hand cup her cheek. "Hello, dear," the woman whispered in a sweet, soothing tone that seemed to carry an edge of sadism. "How are we doing today?"

With surprising gentleness, the woman helped Carol sit up, her back against a cold, unyielding wall. The movement sent waves of pain through her body, but she bit back the urge to scream, the gag now a distant memory. The woman removed the gag, and offered her some water from a bottle.

"Take small sips," she advised, "you've had that in your mouth for a while."

The water was lukewarm, but to Carol's parched throat, it was a heavenly elixir. She swallowed greedily, the liquid soothing the dryness that had taken over. The woman waited patiently, stroking her hair, until she had had her fill. Then she stood, her movements echoing in the small room. The smell of something simple yet tantalizing filled the air—bread and cheese, a humble meal that seemed like a feast to Carol's starved senses. She heard the rustle of a plate being set down, and felt the woman's hand on her shoulder.

"Open up, darling," the woman instructed, a hint of a smile in her voice. A piece of bread was pressed to her lips, and she bit down, the taste exploding in her mouth. It was stale, but it was food, and she hadn't eaten in what felt like an eternity. The woman fed her slowly, piece by piece, a silent rhythm that was almost comforting in its predictability. The cheese that followed was firm and salty, and it clung to the roof of her mouth. She hadn't realised how hungry she was until now.

Carol's senses were heightened, and she could feel every grain of bread and taste every molecule of cheese. It was a stark contrast to the cold, empty feeling that had filled her moments before. Her eyes remained blindfolded, but she could feel the woman watching her, a silent presence that was both terrifying and oddly comforting. The woman's hand was gentle, almost tender, as she guided each piece of food into her mouth, and Carol found herself leaning into the touch, desperate for some form of human contact in this hellish scenario.

The woman's question hung in the air, echoing in Carol's mind. 'Are you going to be a good girl?' It was a question that held a multitude of meanings. It was a question of obedience, of survival, of acceptance. She knew that to be a 'good girl' meant to submit to her captor's will, to endure whatever was to come without fighting back. The thought was repugnant, but the alternative was unbearable. Her stomach growled, a painful reminder of her dependence on this woman for basic needs like food and water.

As the bread and cheese continued to be fed to her, she felt a strange mix of revulsion and gratitude. The woman's hands were gentle, almost motherly, as they held her face and guided the food to her mouth. Yet, she knew the reality of the situation. She was a prisoner, a plaything, and her fate was entirely in the hands of these people. The thought of being a 'good girl' for them was a bitter pill to swallow, but she knew she had to play along. For now.

“Yes.” She whimpered.

“Good. You’ve earned a bathroom break.

The woman's voice was softer now, and she felt a strange sense of relief wash over her. It was something to do, something other than lying on the cold floor, bound and helpless. First the horrid gag made from her own tights and knickers held in by a ball gag was replaced, stretching and stuffing her jaw, almost choking her. Next however, the ropes around her ankles loosened, and she felt the pressure release as they were removed. Her legs felt like jelly as she was helped to her feet, and she wobbled slightly, her body unaccustomed to the sudden freedom of movement. The woman took her by the arm, her grip firm but not painful, and guided her to the door.

Her bare feet padded against the floorboards as she was led down a corridor, the feel of the rough, untreated wood sending shivers up her spine. She could feel the woman's breath against her ear, her words a warm caress in the cold air. "Do not try to escape, and do not scream. You'll regret it if you do." The threat was clear, but it was the calmness in her voice that was the most unsettling. It was as if she were speaking to a child who had just woken from a bad dream.

The door to what she assumed was the bathroom creaked open, and she was pushed inside. The smell of mold and stale air hit her, making her stomach churn even more. The cold porcelain of the toilet was a shock against her skin as she was positioned on the edge, the seat must have been broken or removed, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. She could feel the ropes around her knees loosen, and she tentatively spread her legs apart. The relief was instant as she felt the pressure build, the need to relieve herself more urgent than ever.

Her body was shaking as she tried to balance on the cold, uncomfortable surface. She could hear the woman's footsteps as she left the room, the door clicking shut behind her. The darkness was still absolute, but the silence was broken by the sound of a lock turning, sealing her in this tiny space. The fear grew, mixing with the desperation to use the toilet without making a mess. She leaned back, her bound hands straining against the ropes as she tried to find some semblance of balance. Her bladder finally released, the warmth spreading down her legs as the water tinkled in the pan.

It was an indignity she hadn’t felt since she was a toddler, and the tears streamed down her face, soaking the blindfold. She felt soiled, and the smell of her own waste made her stomach roil. But she knew she had to go on, to survive this. The urge to cry out was overwhelming, but she bit down on the gag, knowing that any sound could bring her captor back, and she wasn’t ready to face that yet.

After what felt like an eternity, the door opened again, and the woman’s cool hand was back on her arm. Without a word, she was led to a shower, the water icy cold against her skin and between her legs. She gasped as it hit her, the shock of it stealing the breath from her lungs. It washed away the filth, but did nothing to ease the fear that had settled in her bones. The woman was efficient, almost clinical, in her care, scrubbing at her with a brush that was rougher than any Carol had ever felt before.

The water pummeled her, stinging like a thousand tiny needles, and she flinched with each new burst of cold. The woman washed her thoroughly, her touch almost gentle, as if trying to erase the stain of her captivity. The water grew warmer, and Carol felt a brief moment of relief before it grew scalding hot, making her skin red and tender. The woman paid no heed to her whimpers, continuing her meticulous cleansing.

Once she was deemed clean, the water was cut off, and the woman began to pat her down with a rough towel. Each dab was like sandpaper on her raw skin, making her wince. Her dignity was stripped away, and she felt utterly exposed and vulnerable. The woman then re-tied her blindfold and guided her out of the shower. The floor was cold and unforgiving as she walked, her bare feet feeling every imperfection.

She was led along the passageway again, the sound of her steps echoing in the silence. Each step was a gamble, as she had no idea where she was going or what awaited her. Finally, she felt the softness of a mattress beneath her, and she was thrown onto it, the gag still tightly in place. Her body bounced once before coming to rest, and she could feel the ropes being untied from her wrists and ankles. The relief was immediate, but she knew it was only temporary.

Her arms and legs were yanked out to the side, and she felt the ropes being tied around her wrists and ankles again, securing her to the bed. The knots were tight, the material digging into her skin as she tested them, feeling the bedframe creak with the tension. The cold metal of the handcuffs bit into her flesh as they were locked in place, each click echoing in her mind like a gunshot.

Carol lay there, naked and exposed, her heart pounding in her chest. The smell of the old, musty bedspread filled her nostrils, and she had to fight the urge to gag again. The fabric of the gag was thick and dry, but it didn’t stop her from feeling the taste of fear in the back of her throat. She lay still, listening intently for any sound that might give her a clue as to what was happening outside the room.

The air was heavy with silence, and she could feel the weight of it pressing down on her. The only sounds were her own ragged breaths and the occasional drip of water from somewhere in the house. Her skin was still damp from the shower, and she shivered involuntarily. The ropes that bound her to the bed were tight, the fibers cutting into her wrists and ankles with every movement she made. She tested her bonds again, pulling against the restraints with all her might. But they held firm, not giving an inch.

The door slammed shut behind the woman, the finality of the sound echoing through the room. The lock clicked into place, a stark reminder that she was truly alone, trapped in this twisted game of cat and mouse. She laid there, trying to calm herself, listening to the retreating footsteps fade away. The house grew eerily quiet, and she could feel the darkness enveloping her like a thick blanket, suffocating her with its embrace. Her eyes searched the blackness, but she could see nothing, not even the shadows of her own thoughts.

Very good work! Thank you!

Absolutely superb.