Terri Asked to be Bound (M/F), part 1
Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2025 11:45 pm
This semi-fictitious story is meant to be serialized. There are eleven more installments. If people enjoy this story, I'll post the others ever now and then. Enjoy.
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I was somewhat surprised when I answered the door and saw Terri standing on my porch with a covered casserole dish in her hands. My wife, Mindy, had been gone for a year, and neighbors and family had all but forgotten my loss, which was fine. I wanted no constant reminders. Terri smiled sheepishly. “May I come in? I brought you homemade manicotti.”
I asked her to join me for dinner. Terri is an attractive woman, but not stunning. While not Asian, she has the figure of a young Japanese woman, but with noticeably larger breasts. As we finished our plates, I could tell there was something on her mind. After a few moments, she said, “I have a bit of an ulterior motive in coming here tonight.”
“Oh?” I responded, curious.
“Mindy was one of my closest friends,” Terri began, “And we had several intimate conversations.” She hesitated, then blurted out, “She told me that you were interested in bondage foreplay, but that she wasn’t into it.” To say I was shocked that Mindy had mentioned this to anyone or that Terri would bring it up is a colossal understatement. I could feel my face burning, but I couldn’t form a response. She didn’t wait for me to come up with some story. “I’ve always been interested in bondage, too.”
“What?!” I forced myself to breathe normally.
“I played Cowboys and Indians or Cops and Robbers, and I always managed to maneuver the game so that I was one of the girls tied up.” Her face reddened at this confession. “Since high school, my interest has only increased, but I have never found anyone I would trust with my secret or trust to tie me up.” I stared at her, beginning to understand what she was proposing, but unwilling to commit. “I think I can trust you.”
“Terri, I’m just not ready for a relationship yet.”
She held up her hands. “Oh, I’m not asking you for that. I was just wondering if you could tie me up a few times to satisfy my curiosity about bondage.” Before I could respond, she raced on, “I’m not talking about sex or anything. The S&M stuff, humiliation, public nakedness, or pain doesn’t interest me. I would just like you to time me up, so I could experience different positions and predicaments as I struggle. I think that would make me so hot… I would be so grateful because I think this will be hard for you.” She stared at me expectantly.
She was right. I have been interested in bondage since I first noticed girls getting lumpy in attractive ways. Mindy was not interested. She let me try a few times, but for the most part, it was a turnoff for her, so we didn’t do it. My first response was somewhat comical. “Is this a trick or trap of some kind?” I asked, forcing a chuckle.
“Please don’t laugh at me,” she said, “It was very hard for me to come over here and ask you to do this. I don’t trust anyone else. Because I knew Mindy so well, I think I can trust you not to hurt me or rape me.”
This was the beginning of a lengthy conversation where we agreed on the rules, dos and don’ts, schedule, and more. We decided she would come over on one Saturday each month until she lost interest in the game. I would give her advice on what to wear and what accessories to bring, but I wouldn’t tell her the game beforehand. We thought that would make it more exciting.
The first Saturday, she parked in the driveway and entered the house through the back door I had left unlocked. She carried a small duffel with the items I had asked her to bring. After some small talk, she went into the guest room to change from her “street clothes” to her “game clothes.' In this case, I had asked her to dress like a 1950s character. She wore a tight pink sweater over a powder blue poodle skirt. She wore taupe hose, bobby socks, and black-and-white saddle shoes. Her blonde hair was tied in a ponytail. I have to say, she looked adorable!
I had her sit on a tall, ladder-back bar chair. The chair did not rotate. I had her scootch her fanny firmly to the back of the chair.
“If anything hurts or goes numb, you need to use the safe word, ‘Happy Days,’ I reminded her.” I was hoping for this to be the first of many Saturday bondage sessions, so I didn’t want to scare her or hurt her. She nodded.
I had prepared ropes of various lengths. I gently grabbed one wrist and tied it to one of the rungs of the chair back, anchoring the rope at one of the rungs between he chair legs. I cinched the rope, but not too tightly. “Okay?” I asked. She nodded, so I tied the other wrist to the rung of the chair back. Her hands were not close enough to reach each other, and the ends of the rope were tied well away from her grasp.
“This is exciting,” she said, blushing.
I took two more lengths of rope and tied her shoulders to the top rung of the chair, cinching them securely. This had the effect of pulling back her shoulders and therefore thrusting her boobs out. She again said that she was okay and to continue. I took a long piece of rope and tied it around her chest, above and below her breasts, and around the back of the chair. She wiggled a bit to test the ropes and seemed satisfied that she was securely bound. The rope accentuated her excellent bosom and squeezed her boobs a bit, not enough to hurt, but enough to know that she was helpless.
Next, I used a wide leather belt to fasten her thighs securely together. I then tied her ankles to the front legs of the chair. Forcing her knees together preserved her modesty. Since the chair had tall legs, she could not reach the ground to try to move the chair. At this point, she was helpless, but I used a wider gauge rope to tie her waist to the back of the chair, and I wrapped many turns of thick rope across her lap and the seat of the chair. I was pleased with the way the rope around her thighs and waist pressed into her body without being painfully tight.
“Do you feel helpless? Is this what you wanted? Is this what you imagined?”
“Yes, this is wonderful,” she replied, beginning to struggle against her ropes, pleased that she was helpless but not in pain. I was pleased, too, that she only seemed to be able to wiggle a few centimeters and that the ropes showed no signs of releasing her.
I held the red ball gag in front of her face. “Are you okay with me gagging you?”
She considered it for a moment. “How will I say the safe word?”
“If you cough three times, that will be the same as the safe word. Okay?”
She nodded. I gently pushed the ball gag into her mouth and then stepped behind her. I lifted her ponytail and buckled the gag securely. The gag was not overly large, and it only had one strap, so if she wanted to spit it out, she could. She showed no inclination to do so.
I smiled and said, “Now, I don’t think you’ll feel completely helpless until I do something unwanted to you and you can’t stop me.”
“Wamf?” she tried to exclaim through the gag. “I truptfed ooo.”
“I know you trusted me. Don’t get worried,” I said with a chuckle. “I’m not going to violate any of our ground rules.” The way she writhed her knees and the way her erect nipples were prominent even through her bra and sweater, I know she was getting aroused. Gently, I stroked one finger across one of her rock-hard nipples. She squeaked through the gag and tried to flinch away to little effect. I fingered her nipples for several minutes. “So, I read online that there is such a thing as a nipple orgasm. Have you heard of this?”
She shook her head violently, her eyes widening in alarm.
“We said there would be no touching of your pussy or clitoris,” I reminded her, “But your boobs are not off limits. Again, she shook her head violently and struggled frantically against her ropes. I stood behind her and gently caressed her nipples, alternating between flicking my fingertips lightly across them, describing slow, gentle circles around her areolas, and squeezing her nipples lightly. Her breathing became deep and noisy, and she struggled mightily to get free. I tormented her boobs for fully half an hour. When it looked like her nipples were losing sensitivity, I would stroke and squeeze her full breasts. I stroked her fanny through the poodle skirt. I gently caressed her face while fondling her boobs and manipulating her nipples. She was getting increasingly aroused as I teased her. She moaned through her gag. Finally, when I thought that I was going to fail to elicit a rare nipple orgasm, she arched her back, straining every muscle against her ropes, and screamed like someone was knifing her. Her eyes rolled up in her head as she threw her head back. She cried, screamed, and howled for a full four minutes. Then she collapsed, swooning, the ropes holding her limp body securely.
I was a bit scared. I checked her pulse on her neck to make sure I hadn’t killed her!
While she was babbling incoherently, crying, and drooling, I unbuckled the gag. I caressed her shoulders and her face until she became lucid again.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She laughed and sobbed, nodding. Finally, she murmured, “That was amazing! Thank you so much.”
“I’ll untie you now,” I told her, “Where should I start? Does anything hurt?”
She shook her head. “I’m more comfortable than I should expect. Everything feels okay. Could I ask you to gag me again, blindfold me, and let me enjoy this for another few minutes?”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I want to savor this feeling a little while longer.”
I complied and then sat at the kitchen table, reading a bondage magazine, getting ideas for the next session, as she tugged half-heartedly at her bonds. Several times, I offered to untie her, but she begged me not to do so. She was tied to the chair for almost two hours before she finally asked me to release her. Her knees were so wobbly, I had to help her walk to the restroom.
Terri adds:
This was the most incredible experience of my life. I had never heard of a nipple orgasm. Who would have thought that just playing with my nipples would make dozens of full-body orgasms? I have never had a pussy orgasm that intense, let alone dozens of them.The entire experience of being tied inescapably but not painfully, and his fondling me, but my being unable to stop him, was scrumptious. The nipple orgasm builds much more slowly than a conventional one. When it did happen, incredible waves of ecstasy washed over my body. I was completely incoherent. I was conscious that I was screaming, but I had no control over my body at that point. I cannot describe the intensity of dozens of orgasms except to say that I was afraid I was losing my mind. I could only sense psychedelic colors and wave after wave of pleasure. That’s why I asked to stay tied up a little longer. I was afraid that I would just fall on the floor if he untied me. I needed time to regain control of my body and my mind.
I am looking forward to our next session in a month. I’m sure he has something amazing in mind.
-------
I was somewhat surprised when I answered the door and saw Terri standing on my porch with a covered casserole dish in her hands. My wife, Mindy, had been gone for a year, and neighbors and family had all but forgotten my loss, which was fine. I wanted no constant reminders. Terri smiled sheepishly. “May I come in? I brought you homemade manicotti.”
I asked her to join me for dinner. Terri is an attractive woman, but not stunning. While not Asian, she has the figure of a young Japanese woman, but with noticeably larger breasts. As we finished our plates, I could tell there was something on her mind. After a few moments, she said, “I have a bit of an ulterior motive in coming here tonight.”
“Oh?” I responded, curious.
“Mindy was one of my closest friends,” Terri began, “And we had several intimate conversations.” She hesitated, then blurted out, “She told me that you were interested in bondage foreplay, but that she wasn’t into it.” To say I was shocked that Mindy had mentioned this to anyone or that Terri would bring it up is a colossal understatement. I could feel my face burning, but I couldn’t form a response. She didn’t wait for me to come up with some story. “I’ve always been interested in bondage, too.”
“What?!” I forced myself to breathe normally.
“I played Cowboys and Indians or Cops and Robbers, and I always managed to maneuver the game so that I was one of the girls tied up.” Her face reddened at this confession. “Since high school, my interest has only increased, but I have never found anyone I would trust with my secret or trust to tie me up.” I stared at her, beginning to understand what she was proposing, but unwilling to commit. “I think I can trust you.”
“Terri, I’m just not ready for a relationship yet.”
She held up her hands. “Oh, I’m not asking you for that. I was just wondering if you could tie me up a few times to satisfy my curiosity about bondage.” Before I could respond, she raced on, “I’m not talking about sex or anything. The S&M stuff, humiliation, public nakedness, or pain doesn’t interest me. I would just like you to time me up, so I could experience different positions and predicaments as I struggle. I think that would make me so hot… I would be so grateful because I think this will be hard for you.” She stared at me expectantly.
She was right. I have been interested in bondage since I first noticed girls getting lumpy in attractive ways. Mindy was not interested. She let me try a few times, but for the most part, it was a turnoff for her, so we didn’t do it. My first response was somewhat comical. “Is this a trick or trap of some kind?” I asked, forcing a chuckle.
“Please don’t laugh at me,” she said, “It was very hard for me to come over here and ask you to do this. I don’t trust anyone else. Because I knew Mindy so well, I think I can trust you not to hurt me or rape me.”
This was the beginning of a lengthy conversation where we agreed on the rules, dos and don’ts, schedule, and more. We decided she would come over on one Saturday each month until she lost interest in the game. I would give her advice on what to wear and what accessories to bring, but I wouldn’t tell her the game beforehand. We thought that would make it more exciting.
The first Saturday, she parked in the driveway and entered the house through the back door I had left unlocked. She carried a small duffel with the items I had asked her to bring. After some small talk, she went into the guest room to change from her “street clothes” to her “game clothes.' In this case, I had asked her to dress like a 1950s character. She wore a tight pink sweater over a powder blue poodle skirt. She wore taupe hose, bobby socks, and black-and-white saddle shoes. Her blonde hair was tied in a ponytail. I have to say, she looked adorable!
I had her sit on a tall, ladder-back bar chair. The chair did not rotate. I had her scootch her fanny firmly to the back of the chair.
“If anything hurts or goes numb, you need to use the safe word, ‘Happy Days,’ I reminded her.” I was hoping for this to be the first of many Saturday bondage sessions, so I didn’t want to scare her or hurt her. She nodded.
I had prepared ropes of various lengths. I gently grabbed one wrist and tied it to one of the rungs of the chair back, anchoring the rope at one of the rungs between he chair legs. I cinched the rope, but not too tightly. “Okay?” I asked. She nodded, so I tied the other wrist to the rung of the chair back. Her hands were not close enough to reach each other, and the ends of the rope were tied well away from her grasp.
“This is exciting,” she said, blushing.
I took two more lengths of rope and tied her shoulders to the top rung of the chair, cinching them securely. This had the effect of pulling back her shoulders and therefore thrusting her boobs out. She again said that she was okay and to continue. I took a long piece of rope and tied it around her chest, above and below her breasts, and around the back of the chair. She wiggled a bit to test the ropes and seemed satisfied that she was securely bound. The rope accentuated her excellent bosom and squeezed her boobs a bit, not enough to hurt, but enough to know that she was helpless.
Next, I used a wide leather belt to fasten her thighs securely together. I then tied her ankles to the front legs of the chair. Forcing her knees together preserved her modesty. Since the chair had tall legs, she could not reach the ground to try to move the chair. At this point, she was helpless, but I used a wider gauge rope to tie her waist to the back of the chair, and I wrapped many turns of thick rope across her lap and the seat of the chair. I was pleased with the way the rope around her thighs and waist pressed into her body without being painfully tight.
“Do you feel helpless? Is this what you wanted? Is this what you imagined?”
“Yes, this is wonderful,” she replied, beginning to struggle against her ropes, pleased that she was helpless but not in pain. I was pleased, too, that she only seemed to be able to wiggle a few centimeters and that the ropes showed no signs of releasing her.
I held the red ball gag in front of her face. “Are you okay with me gagging you?”
She considered it for a moment. “How will I say the safe word?”
“If you cough three times, that will be the same as the safe word. Okay?”
She nodded. I gently pushed the ball gag into her mouth and then stepped behind her. I lifted her ponytail and buckled the gag securely. The gag was not overly large, and it only had one strap, so if she wanted to spit it out, she could. She showed no inclination to do so.
I smiled and said, “Now, I don’t think you’ll feel completely helpless until I do something unwanted to you and you can’t stop me.”
“Wamf?” she tried to exclaim through the gag. “I truptfed ooo.”
“I know you trusted me. Don’t get worried,” I said with a chuckle. “I’m not going to violate any of our ground rules.” The way she writhed her knees and the way her erect nipples were prominent even through her bra and sweater, I know she was getting aroused. Gently, I stroked one finger across one of her rock-hard nipples. She squeaked through the gag and tried to flinch away to little effect. I fingered her nipples for several minutes. “So, I read online that there is such a thing as a nipple orgasm. Have you heard of this?”
She shook her head violently, her eyes widening in alarm.
“We said there would be no touching of your pussy or clitoris,” I reminded her, “But your boobs are not off limits. Again, she shook her head violently and struggled frantically against her ropes. I stood behind her and gently caressed her nipples, alternating between flicking my fingertips lightly across them, describing slow, gentle circles around her areolas, and squeezing her nipples lightly. Her breathing became deep and noisy, and she struggled mightily to get free. I tormented her boobs for fully half an hour. When it looked like her nipples were losing sensitivity, I would stroke and squeeze her full breasts. I stroked her fanny through the poodle skirt. I gently caressed her face while fondling her boobs and manipulating her nipples. She was getting increasingly aroused as I teased her. She moaned through her gag. Finally, when I thought that I was going to fail to elicit a rare nipple orgasm, she arched her back, straining every muscle against her ropes, and screamed like someone was knifing her. Her eyes rolled up in her head as she threw her head back. She cried, screamed, and howled for a full four minutes. Then she collapsed, swooning, the ropes holding her limp body securely.
I was a bit scared. I checked her pulse on her neck to make sure I hadn’t killed her!
While she was babbling incoherently, crying, and drooling, I unbuckled the gag. I caressed her shoulders and her face until she became lucid again.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She laughed and sobbed, nodding. Finally, she murmured, “That was amazing! Thank you so much.”
“I’ll untie you now,” I told her, “Where should I start? Does anything hurt?”
She shook her head. “I’m more comfortable than I should expect. Everything feels okay. Could I ask you to gag me again, blindfold me, and let me enjoy this for another few minutes?”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I want to savor this feeling a little while longer.”
I complied and then sat at the kitchen table, reading a bondage magazine, getting ideas for the next session, as she tugged half-heartedly at her bonds. Several times, I offered to untie her, but she begged me not to do so. She was tied to the chair for almost two hours before she finally asked me to release her. Her knees were so wobbly, I had to help her walk to the restroom.
Terri adds:
This was the most incredible experience of my life. I had never heard of a nipple orgasm. Who would have thought that just playing with my nipples would make dozens of full-body orgasms? I have never had a pussy orgasm that intense, let alone dozens of them.The entire experience of being tied inescapably but not painfully, and his fondling me, but my being unable to stop him, was scrumptious. The nipple orgasm builds much more slowly than a conventional one. When it did happen, incredible waves of ecstasy washed over my body. I was completely incoherent. I was conscious that I was screaming, but I had no control over my body at that point. I cannot describe the intensity of dozens of orgasms except to say that I was afraid I was losing my mind. I could only sense psychedelic colors and wave after wave of pleasure. That’s why I asked to stay tied up a little longer. I was afraid that I would just fall on the floor if he untied me. I needed time to regain control of my body and my mind.
I am looking forward to our next session in a month. I’m sure he has something amazing in mind.
