Nothing to Do and Nowhere to Go

By Rayron D'Olier

(Note from the author: If you like this story, there are similar tales on the Damsel Theater Bondage Tokens Galleries website. They are spread around on several pages, but there is a direct link that will take you to all of the stories. While this story is posted in the interests of shameless self-promotion for a pay site, I will, from time to time post more here, even if they are exerpts.)

Nothing to Do and Nowhere to Go

Abigail had nothing to do. More accurately, all there was to do was to sit in her chair and think. This was unlike her to be so idle, especially given the fact that nominally she was still at work. She would normally have found something to do, and in fact was quite eager to do just that, but this afternoon was quite a bit different because she was tightly tied to the chair she was sitting in.


It was a simple wooden chair with horizontal slats for the backrest and rungs between the legs. It was such a chair that one might have found on any number of front porches in a previous era, but was now generally seen only in junk stores. Abigail was roped to the chair quite securely. Her arms were behind the backrest of the chair and her wrists were crossed and tied together. Ropes went around her body and arms, above and below her bosom and were cinched between her arms and the back of the chair's backrest. Her ankles were tied together with a quantity of cinched rope and it must be noted that she was also effectively gagged. The people who did this to her had wound turn after turn of a wide strip of bed sheet between her teeth and then more turns over her mouth and the lower part of her face.


Abigail was a lovely woman in her late twenties. She was around five feet, six inches and displayed a compact, physically fit appearance. Her breasts were small and firm, her waist was thin and widened out to hips that were too wide to make Abigail perfectly happy, but which were widely admired by the male of the species. Her leg muscles were well defined and she had hands and feet that could only be called cute and dainty.


Her face was sweet and intelligent with wide forehead and cheeks tapering from there to a round, slightly prominent chin. It was a face punctuated by large, startling green eyes, a straight nose and, if we could see her mouth beneath the gag, we would see small, but full, lips composing a wide mouth that produced heartbreaking dimples when Abigail smiled and laughed. Her hair was a very light brown, a sort of mousy blonde, and was cut so that it ended just below her jaw line. It was parted in the middle and flipped up and out. It was a very perky head of hair and was intended to be just that.


Today Abigail was dressed in a typical work outfit. She had on a black, sleeveless jumper that was somewhat closely fitted around her upper body, but flowed out into a full, knee-length skirt. Under the jumper was a white blouse with a collar and long sleeves. She had on natural color pantyhose that were a little on the thick side and her shoes were black pumps with low heels and a tee-strap just above her toes.


Abigail just sat there. She had been bound to this chair and gagged for about thirty minutes and occasionally she would test the ropes that held her body so securely. She would twist her shoulders and pull and push with her arms. Her hands would flutter about behind her as her fingers searched for an elusive knot or tried to find an angle that would enable them to slip through the ropes. This all felt very hopeless and only had the effect of making the ropes feel tighter and making the old chair creak under her weight. It wasn't so much that the ropes were painfully tight, but they were quite snug and offered little slack. If Abigail sat very still, the ropes seemed to relax and had only a little more pressure than a wristwatch band or a belt, but the second she tried to move, the ropes would become all too obvious and keep her body in the exact position she was tied in. The gag wasn't as bad as she had feared. She was effectively silenced, but the only problem was that as her mouth became a little dry, the gag itself became somewhat damp around her mouth and Abigail decided that the creeping wetness along her cheeks was the gag's worst feature. She rather dreaded the thought of drooling and her inability to do anything about it accentuated her feeling of helplessness.


She had stopped struggling in earnest by now and was merely going through the motions from time to time; her shoulders and arms twisting and her hands flapping behind her; her legs lifting up on her toes and alternately pulling and pushing against the ropes around her ankles. When she did this, her shoes would slip off her heels and Abigail was careful not to let them fall off. She was conscious of feeling an increased vulnerability when her shoes would fall halfway off her feet, so she would always work her heels back into them. Her feet weren't actually tied to the chair, so she had been able to lift her legs out straight in front of her to see how her ankles were tied and if, perhaps, there was any hope of freeing her feet, but as her muscular legs worked back and forth against the ropes, she could tell there was no useful slack to be found there. She scolded herself for admiring her very shapely legs as they pulled against her ankle ropes. "What a time for vanity," she muttered aloud. Of course this came out as, "Uph uh I phuh amma-eee."


She was now looking around the room, absentmindedly flexing against the ropes. Her legs were up on the balls of her feet and were bouncing up and down slightly as a symptom of her rather urgent wish to be not tied to a chair in the middle of the afternoon. Her heels were slightly elevated and had slipped out of both shoes. Abigail decided, semi-consciously, that the cool air in the room felt nice on her stocking feet as she surveyed her surroundings. She retreated into her thoughts rather than continuing the hopeless task of escaping her bonds.


As she looked around the room, her mind was playing the mental movie of how she had come to be in such a predicament. Abigail was the chief, and only, researcher for a private investigation firm. She had been recently divorced and had, of course, left her job at her ex-husband's law firm and had found this one. It was a small, but successful operation consisting of the owner and three other investigators. The owner of the company, Robert, had been in the business for fifteen years and was in his early forties. Before that he had been a policeman. Their office was upstairs in a building that had had been built around 1900 as part of the main shopping area of a small town – a small town that had since been absorbed into the suburbs of a larger city. She liked her job. She was curious and a bit of a voyeur and looking into other peoples' lives was an endlessly fascinating, if somewhat guilty, pleasure. She liked her boss, Robert. He was an extroverted man, but with the ability to play his cards close to his chest in professional and personal matters. He was unmarried, but she didn't know why, and they had a professional, but slightly flirtatious working relationship. She enjoyed this and often wondered if there was any potential for any deeper emotional fun with Robert. She had been with the company for almost a year and so far, Robert hadn't encouraged any socializing between them. Nor had she.


Abigail also liked their office. It filled the entire top floor, the third, of the old building. The stairs ran directly from the street. The stairs ended at the back of the building where a long hallway ran beside the banisters. There were four doors in this hallway and a window at each end. The front of the office overlooked the street and the main entrance to their office was the door nearest the front window. Robert had left the office just as he had found it with the lobby and conference area in the front, his office just behind, the files, the computers and research area behind that and finally the room Abigail was now tied up in. The other investigators were generally out in the field and when they were in the office, they used workstations in the research room, which was Abigail's domain. She didn't know them very well, but she seemed to work well with them all.


The afternoon in question was a Wednesday and Abigail had been in the office alone. All the investigators were out. Robert was testifying in court and would probably not be back at all. She was at her computer when she heard the lobby door open. She went to the front to see two unannounced visitors, a man and a woman. They were unremarkable looking, both in their late thirties. The man was stout and of average height and was wearing a black business suit and black cowboy boots, the only jarring note. The woman was a pretty redhead, wearing a white twin sweater set and a subdued plaid skirt that was mostly black, white and blue. She had on transparent, white pantyhose and black, three-inch high heels. Her shoes were low cut and revealed much of her arches and toes, and had a Mary Jane strap low on her instep. Abigail greeted them.


"May I help you?"


The man smiled and said, "Are you the proprietor of this establishment?"


Abigail answered, "No, I'm sorry, the owner is out. I am the researcher. I could take your names and phone number and we could set up an appointment if you'd like. The owner won't be back today I don't think." Abigail noted that the man had an accent that sounded vaguely British, but maybe it was British as a second language.


The man smiled even broader and said, "Actually, we prefer to chat with you, although all we really have to say is that we intend to search your office." The woman giggled.


This surprising statement took a moment to register and when Abigail spoke it was to merely stammer out, "What?"


The man laughed, "Your reaction reveals that you have understood my unorthodox intention, but that you do not know how to react. Don't worry, you will not have to make a decision or search your mind for an appropriate reaction. We will not hurt you, I promise a thousand times, but you will do nothing to stop us, I assure you. I told a lie just now. We will hurt you if you make yourself an obstacle." The man lifted his suit coat to reveal a rather large automatic pistol under his left arm.


Abigail looked at the woman to see that she was actually pointing a similar pistol at her. Abigail felt weak and she sat down in an office chair behind the reception desk. She found the wit to quickly say, "The place is all yours."


The woman stopped pointing the gun at Abigail and let it fall to her side where it was pointing at the floor. She spoke for the first time, "As my friend here mentioned, if you cooperate, we won't hurt you at all. We're not murderers or horrible goons, but we are also not exactly solid citizens. You understand?"


Abigail nodded thoughtfully.


The woman continued as if she was a stewardess giving instructions to the passengers, "Since we can't let you know what we are looking for and we need to give our undivided attention to the work at hand, we will have to tie you up a little while we are here. We'll let you go later tonight."


At this alarming statement, Abigail blurted out, "I thought you said you wouldn't hurt me."


The woman gave a chuckle, "Being tied up doesn't hurt. I've been tied up and I can assure you that it doesn't have to hurt at all. My friend here is quite good at tying people up and I'm no slouch either." The woman held up an overnight bag, "We have all the proper materials to keep you out of our way, so just relax and trust us. What an absurd statement. There's no reason for you to trust us and I know you'll be scared, but try not to be. It'll be OK. Now stand up and turn around."


Abigail had already assumed the attitude of a prisoner. The man and woman's calm air of command and their aura of menace were irresistible. They were serious and there wasn't the slightest indication that they were less than totally determined to do just what they intended to do. Abigail found herself involuntarily standing, turning around and waiting. She heard the woman open the bag and rustle around and heard the heavy tread of the man's cowboy boots and the clicking of the woman's heels as they walked around the reception desk to where Abigail was standing.


She felt the woman grab her arms and gently pull them behind her. She felt the man's larger hands cross her wrists and quickly, thoroughly, tie them together. All this time the woman kept up a soothing patter along the lines of, "There, there, this won't be too bad, won't hurt at all, a little uncomfortable maybe, he really knows his stuff, etc."


Then the woman said, "Open wide honey." Abigail turned her head around to look at the woman, but she just pushed Abigail's head back around and repeated, "Open wide."


Abigail opened her mouth wide and the man began winding turn after turn of a wide strip of linen between her teeth until her mouth was full. Then he began winding the strip flat over her mouth and covering the lower part of her face. He pulled it tight and knotted it behind her head.


Abigail tested the ropes around her wrists while she was being gagged and found that they were firmly bound. It felt as if there was a thick, solid, but soft band of unyielding cotton holding her wrists together. The individual ropes were not so much in evidence.


With her hands tied and her mouth gagged, the woman turned Abigail around to face them and said, "Now lead ahead and show us every room in the office. Just start walking until we've come to the last room and then nod your head."


There were only the three rooms apart from the lobby they were in, all with internal doors and doors leading out to the hallway. Abigail led them through Robert's office, through her research room and then finally into the back room, which had been fitted out as a sort of bedroom, by Robert, for when he worked late and didn't want to go home. They reached this room and Abigail nodded her head and said, "Aph if." Her faint, muffled, incoherent voice deeply surprised her.


The man laughed and said, "Are you sure aph if?"


Abigail rolled her eyes and looked away from them.


The woman said, "He is a wit isn't he? OK honey, sit in this chair."


She brought the chair behind Abigail and gently shoved her into it. They tied her to the chair in the previously described manner and the man immediately left the room. The woman took the skeleton key out of the ancient internal door and went to the hall door and locked it. She turned to Abigail and said, "We won't be very long and I hope you won't be too bored. Just don't be scared and don't try to get loose. I don't think you can, but if you do we'll have to tie you up in a much more uncomfortable position and I just know you'd rather avoid that. Ta ta." The woman closed the door. Abigail heard her lock it from the other side and then she was alone.



Thirty minutes later we rejoin Abigail as she looks around the room that has now become a very close prison indeed. As mentioned, the room was fitted out as a bedroom by Robert, but it was very minimally furnished. They had placed the chair Abigail was tied to at the side of the bed near the footboard and so that she was facing the headboard and a bedside table. The hall door was behind her; the internal door was to her left. The bathroom door was next to the internal door and there was a window across the room to Abigail's right that overlooked the alley between this building and the row of buildings a block over.


The room was a bit grim. There were no pictures on the wall, no decoration; just a bed, bedside table and the chair she was tied to. There was a light over the bed's headboard that swiveled out from the wall and an overhead light in the middle of the ceiling. The only interesting thing in the room for Abigail was an ancient-looking phone on the bedside table, and her attention kept coming back to the phone. What to do about the phone? Why was it even there? She had never noticed it before and had certainly never used it. It looked to be at least thirty years old. She couldn't remember even hearing it ring, but it had a cord going into a jack in the wall so surely it worked.


Except for struggling against the ropes as she sat in the chair, Abigail hadn't really given much thought to any indirect means of escape, now she thought to herself, 'I can't get untied. That's a fact. Even if I did get untied, I'm locked in this room. I have a choice: do nothing or do something. I must either get to the phone and use it or get to the window and try to get someone's attention. Those are my only choices.' Abigail was now over the initial shock at being bound and gagged by two complete strangers and while her body was helpless, her mind was now clearing rapidly and she was able to analyze her situation. 'I will try the phone first,' she decided.


Her struggling had demonstrated to Abigail how little movement she was capable of and she kept having the startling realization of how bizarre this all was. Here she was in a room, barely fifteen feet square. She had crossed this room many times in less than two seconds, but now crossing that same room would require the most careful planning and strenuous effort. Crossing that little room would be harder than driving her daily ten-mile commute or running her daily five-mile jogging route. The distance from where she was sitting and the phone was about eight feet. Abigail decided to get close enough to the phone so she could lift the receiver off its cradle with her feet. Then she would move next to the phone where she could dial it with her nose and somehow make herself understood. Perhaps the emergency people would be suspicious at her gagged noises and trace the call.


Abigail began by working her heels back into her shoes. She carefully tipped forward in the chair and slowly straightened her legs until she was standing with the chair suspended over the floor. The fact that she was tied to the chair forced her to bend forward at the waist. She decided that hopping would be too noisy; she could hear her captors in the very next room going through files, talking and laughing. In standing, Abigail felt all the ropes tighten significantly, especially those around her ankles, but she found that there was just enough slack in the ankle ropes for her feet to take very tiny, tiny steps of about one inch. All the floors in the office were of polished hardwood and she could slide her feet without making much noise.


Abigail began her laborious progress toward the phone, one inch at a time. It was profoundly irritating and the sense of not being able to stride to the phone in two steps as she normally would, gave her a feeling of overwhelming helplessness. Her hair also kept falling in her eyes and she was afraid this would upset her already precarious balance. Another threat to her balance was the chair hitting against the back of her butt and thighs as she wriggled forward. After what seemed forever, Abigail decided that she was close enough to the phone for her legs to stretch out and her feet to ease the receiver off its cradle. She slowly bent her knees until the front legs of the chair touched the floor and then she slowly let the back legs pivot down until she was sitting as before. She pointed her toes until her heels slipped out of her shoes and then slid her stocking feet all the way out of them. She felt a curious relief at the feeling of the cool floor under her feet.


She stretched her legs out in front of her and began to fumble with the phone's receiver with her toes. She got the receiver between both feet and let it slide silently to the tabletop. Now she was faced with another journey of several feet so that she could be close enough to use her nose to dial the phone. She repeated her standing and shuffling progress and after interminable effort she bent at the waist and positioned her face directly above the phone. There was no dial tone. She tried working the buttons on the cradle with her nose several times, but evidently this ancient phone was connected to nothing but a disconnected wall jack. Abigail was disgusted. She was standing there like a trussed chicken and all her efforts had been in vain. She shook her head and shoulders in fury and felt the ropes grip her. But she also felt something else.


The chair had slipped down on her body and was hitting her legs much lower than before. She wriggled and twisted again and there was no mistaking it – the chair was slipping out of its position between her arms and body. She couldn't really see how she was tied to the chair, but the ropes around her arms and body were evidently not actually tied to it. In roping her arms to her body, the man had thought it sufficiently tight that the pressure of the whole package would be enough to keep the chair in place. 'Not such a goddamn expert,' thought Abigail with a glimmer of hope. She backed up so that the chair touched the bed and began twisting and gently shaking back and forth. She tried to use her hands to push the chair down, but they weren't much use except as a sort of pendulum in her shaking to rid herself of the chair.


Finally the chair slid out from between her arms and body completely, its front legs resting on the floor and its back legs against the side of the bed. Abigail slowly inched forward with the tiny steps that had become her only means of locomotion until the chair's backrest slid down her back and legs and was face down on the floor. Now Abigail stood straight up. The ropes around her body and arms were looser, but were still somewhat effective in constricting her movement. But she could now bring her hands around to her side to see how they were tied. She looked and saw that the ropes that went over and under her bosom were cinched at her elbows and she couldn't see a knot. Her hands were tied very securely and Abigail once again abandoned all hopes of getting untied. The next step was the window.


To get to the window would be a very long journey indeed. She would have to go around the bed and then across the remaining floor – a total of about fifteen to twenty feet. The tiny step method would take forever. Abigail decided to experiment with hopping. She stood in place and began hopping up and down a little to see how good her balance was and how much noise it made. In her stocking feet, she made only a very faint thump with a small hop and she tried a few forward-motion hops on her toes. With each hop she would bend her knees on landing as a kind of shock absorber action that lessened the noise. Occasionally a board would creek and Abigail would stand very still and listen to the people on the other side of the door. They were still happily going about their nefarious business and once she heard the woman giggle uncontrollably.


When Abigail heard the woman's peals of laughter, she instantly made several bold hops that were much longer than previously and congratulated herself on traveling a couple of feet. By now she was around the bed and the farther she got from the door, the more confidant she became, but on the downside all this effort was making her ankle ropes seem very much tighter than when she had been sitting down. Her overall muscular tenseness was also increasing the pressure on her wrists as they moved around behind her to assist her balance. Her hands were doing their utmost to come around from behind and maximize her balance, and this made them involuntarily struggle against her wrist ropes, alternately flapping around and making fists.


By the time Abigail had covered the distance to the window, she was feeling like she had run a mile – worse than that because running a mile for her was effortless and invigorating. This hopping around while bound and gagged was very hard work, although she did feel a certain sense of victory at her freedom to move, relative to that when she was tied to the chair. Now she looked out of the window to see what she could see. She had the sudden panicky feeling that she better be able to attract someone's attention, because if the man or woman came in and found that she had been roaming around the room, they might fulfill their promise to tie her more securely and more uncomfortably. 'What's done is done,' Abigail thought glumly as she surveyed the world outside her prison.


She looked at the building across the alley and there was a woman in the window one floor below her! She was looking down at what seemed to be a copying machine. Abigail riveted her eyes on this woman and began to will her to look up. Abigail's hands began twisting and waving as they reflexively tried to escape their bonds and signal to the woman, open the window, anything. Abigail began bouncing up and down on the balls of her stocking feet as extreme urgency overtook her. She began mmphing through the gag, but quickly stopped for fear of alerting her captors. Then the woman looked up directly into Abigail's eyes! Abigail shook her head and shoulders furiously. Her arms strained behind her to come around and gesture. The woman smiled at Abigail, waved and disappeared into the room behind her.


Abigail couldn't believe it! Couldn't that stupid cow see that her mouth was covered with a goddamn gag? Couldn't she see that Abigail's breasts were straining against her motherfucking dress between turn after turn of tight rope? Could she be so dim and unobservant not to see that Abigail was struggling furiously and was completely tied up? Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn! Abigail stood there staring, willing the woman to come back and by God redeem herself by noticing what should be obvious to anyone with the brain of a biddy.


While she was standing there burning with anger, Abigail felt a slight tapping on her shoulder. She had felt so many irritating things lately that she had had to ignore; she paid this no attention, but just twisted her shoulders back and forth to make it stop. It stopped for a second and then repeated, but this time it was accompanied by a voice that sweetly said, "Sorry to interrupt you. I guess you got bored, didn't you? I know just what you mean. Sometimes when my buddy in there leaves me all tied up alone, I'll do just about anything to try and entertain myself. I have always found my options are quite limited. I'm sure you made the same discovery."


Abigail had turned her head and saw the woman standing right behind her with her hands on her hips and an amused expression on her face. The woman grabbed Abigail around the waist and made her hop back a few steps from the window. Then she stepped over to the window and looked out. Abigail saw her smile and wave at somebody, probably that she-idiot across the alley. Then the woman drew the curtains shut, turned to Abigail and said, "Wait right here honey."


Abigail watched the woman stride out of the room. The woman was in her stocking feet, which was why Abigail hadn't heard her come in no doubt. Abigail stood where she was tied like a parcel. As she watched the woman, Abigail found herself filled with envy at the woman's freedom. She watched her easily cover the distance of the room in a couple of seconds and walk all the way to the other side of the next room. All her movements were graceful and easy. Abigail wriggled her hands against the ropes and envied the woman's ability to just grab an office chair and roll it into Abigail's room with no problem at all. Abigail was fascinated by the contrast between her situation and her captors'. The woman rolled the office chair into the room and came back over to Abigail and began untying her. She completely untied her, leaving her hands for last and then ungagged her. She motioned for Abigail to have a seat on the bed and the woman took a seat in the office chair where she crossed her legs and lit a cigarette.


Abigail hadn't moved from where she was standing, but when she did it was like a miracle. She was a little stiff and there were rope marks on her wrists and ankles, but she felt so free. My God, my body works again. She had no idea how long she had been tied up but it seemed like forever. They had taken her watch off before they tied her so she didn't know what time it was, but she was certain she had been tied up in this room for a couple of hours.


Abigail walked over to the bed, but first she paused where she had kicked off her shoes earlier and put them back on. Then she sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard and with her legs stretched out in front of her. She was stretching her arms and legs, pointing and flexing her feet. When she looked at the woman, she noticed that there was a small pistol stuck in the belt of her skirt.


The woman exhaled and said, "I'm a little put out that you tried to get loose or alert somebody, but I won't tell Mr. Tough Guy in there. He wouldn't hurt you, but he might get a little overly thorough when we tie you up again. He's in the front room on the phone right now, so he doesn't know our little secret."


Abigail shyly asked, "So what's next. How long are you going to be here?"


The woman smiled, "Not much longer at all. I'll tell you all about what's going to happen next so you won't be sitting here worrying when we leave."


Abigail thought, 'So I'm going to be tied up again obviously.'


The woman smiled as if reading Abigail's mind and began to explain, "Before we leave here we're going to tie you up again. We’re going to leave a detailed message on your Boss's answering machines, both here and at home and then we will call periodically on his cell phone. Altogether, you shouldn't have to wait too long for your hero to come to your rescue." The woman paused, "Is your boss any kind of a hero, by the way? To you I mean."


Abigail said, "Could I have a cigarette?" The woman lit one and passed it to her. "Well, I like him just fine. We have a lot of fun working together, but we're not dating if that's what you mean."


The woman looked pensive, "Well, that's too bad. I was thinking it might be exciting for you to wait here all tied and gagged. It would give you something to think about."


Abigail said, "Something you said earlier has been stuck in my mind. You said you had been tied up before. You implied you had been tied up many times and you said it as if were a fun thing. What was that all about?"


"Oh, well, Mr. Tough Guy out there, who's really a big softy when it comes to me, ties me up all the time. I just love it. I want him to. If he hasn't done it in a while, I'll do something that will set the game off, like start hitting him or pushing him away and running from him when we're getting romantic and kissing and stuff. The first time he suggested such a thing, I got instantly tingly at the very thought and when he actually had me all roped up, I was awed by the rush of sheer sexual power. I can't describe it. I don't imagine it's for everybody, but since you're going to be tied up anyway, you might want to give it some thought.


"When somebody you trust completely ties you up, there's something about it that destroys all your emotional and physical defenses. He can touch you anywhere or touch you until you're about to come and then stop for a while and then start back again, over and over. You can't do anything about it. You are at the mercy of his whims. Your body keeps telling you to get moving and get satisfied, and the body is so surprised when it can't move at all. You can't even touch yourself worth a damn. All you can do is sit there or lie there and struggle and wriggle and wait for him to finish you off when he's damn good and ready. The payoff is that waiting so long while being so turned on means that when you do finally come, it's like a bomb went off inside you. It's more powerful than LSD. I've damn near fainted sometimes.


"And the whole time you're tied up it's just so much fun. I like to be tied up with all my clothes on so he can unbutton and unzip me and I try to fight him and keep him from doing it. The fact that nothing I do makes any difference makes me feel twice as helpless and twice as excited. Sometimes he'll get me all worked up and then just go sit across the room and talk to me. It's such a thrill to realize that he's only a few feet away, but he might as well be a few miles away for all I can do about it. And when he does touch you, every part of your body is so sensitive. Sometimes he'll just come over and slip a shoe off me and start kissing my foot. Now, I like that all the time, but when I'm tied up, it just about sends me through the roof. If you've never tried it, I would highly recommend it. Do it with the right guy though, I mean, Mr. Tough Guy is actually quite the gentleman. He treats me very nice when he captures me and I try to fight and struggle. Sometimes it makes us laugh so hard that he'll have to leave the room until we calm down. It takes some thought and technique and you've both got to know each other's limits. In other words, start slow and simple. There's even books on it and stuff on the internet. How-to stuff, ya know?"


Abigail had heard of these games before, but never out of the context of hardcore sadomasochism. What the woman told her sounded like they were just playing an innocent game. "Well, you were right that it didn't hurt the way he tied me. Is that the way he ties you? I mean, there was no way I could get loose, but I wasn't in pain at all. I also noticed my body being surprised kinda like you said. Every now and then my hands would try to come in front of me to help me do something and it would startle me when they couldn't."


The woman snubbed out her cigarette and said, "Oh yeah, he tied you just like he ties me sometimes. Other times we do things a little different, but I've got to tell you that watching him tie you up made me just a little jealous. Ha ha, he thought that was a pretty good joke on me all right. Well anyway, its time to get you all bundled up again. It's about 5:30. We'll need an hour before we can safely start calling the boss man. If things go OK, you won't have to sit here but about two hours. Now stand up and turn around."


Abigail was surprised to find that she wasn't particularly dreading what was coming next. She snubbed out her cigarette, swung her legs off the bed, stood up and turned around with her back to the woman.


The woman grabbed both arms and said, "I'm going to rope you a little different from the way Mr. Man did."


Abigail felt the woman position her arms so that her forearms were parallel to each other, at right angles to her body and so that they nestled in the small of her back. Then the rope was wrapped vertically around her wrists. After that it was cinched between her wrists and firmly knotted. This felt much more constrictive than the way she had been tied before with her wrists crossed diagonally and her hands extending almost to her butt.


Then Abigail felt rope being wrapped around her arms and body just below her bosom and above her elbows. After this she felt the woman cinch the rope between her arms and body on both sides and then pull it all tight and knot it between her shoulder blades. When the woman bent down to sort through the remaining rope, Abigail tested her bonds and found that she had very little up and down movement to her hands and could move her arms side to side only a little more than that. The rope around her body felt like a tight bear hug and her hands could only wave around behind her, her left hand pointing to her right and her right hand pointing to her left.


Abigail looked up to see the woman smiling and watching her struggle. "Just relax and give into it and think of some stud coming to rescue you or maybe just drive you nuts. Ha ha ha. Now let's sit on the bed up close to the headboard to we can lean you back on those pillows."


The woman had to help her move back against the headboard and get comfortable. She was now sitting on the side of the bed nearest the bedside table with her legs stretched out in front of her along the length of the bed. The woman doubled a rope and began wrapping it around Abigail's legs directly above her knees. Abigail found herself interested in how this was done and noted the cinching between her legs and how that resulted in a snug, but gentle tightness. The knot appeared to be a standard square knot, which Abigail actually knew how to tie. The woman then crossed Abigail's ankles and tied them the same way as her legs – wrapping, cinching and knotting. "I crossed your ankles so you can't go hopping around. I wanted to warn you, because if you try hopping around like that you will fall. Don't even try it."


The woman held the strip of bed linen Abigail had been gagged with out at arm's length and found the center of it where she then tied a thick knot. "Open wide," she said for the second time that day. Abigail opened wide and the woman inserted the knot into Abigail's mouth. Then she began winding the linen around and around Abigail's head and between her teeth in both directions and finally reached back and tightly knotted it behind her head.


"There, I think that's a very pretty job. You look great. Your boss won't be human if he doesn't just melt at the sight of such a lovely damsel. In my opinion, you ought to get him to play with you for awhile before he lets you go, but maybe you don't like him that much. Anyway, it was nice meeting you; sorry we didn't get to chat more. No need to get up, I can find my own way to the door, ha ha. Bye bye." The woman gave a little fluttery wave with her fingers, shut the door, and locked it from the other side. Then Abigail heard the woman test the doorknob and the door came open an inch or two and then closed again. Abigail couldn't tell what they were doing, but she heard some scraping and a muffled thump and then she heard their steps recede into the lobby and out the door. She heard louder steps as they came down the hall and went down the stairs directly outside the hall door of Abigail's room.


Abigail was alone now and didn't quite know how she felt about that. She was rid of those people, but she was also quite possibly more securely tied than she had been earlier. They were gone and wouldn't interrupt any more escape attempts, but Abigail didn't think that escape was even remotely possible. 'But what the hell, I've got nothing else to do. That's been my problem all afternoon.' Abigail thought of the woman whose eye she had caught in the building across the alley. She was still angry with that ninny, but anyway it was past 5 o'clock. Most people around here had gone home. There were some restaurants and other businesses open on the ground floors of the buildings, but she couldn't even get off the bed and leave the room, much less make her way downstairs.



Abigail resolved to occupy her time wisely and try to escape and the first step is always to assess the situation. Two advantages over the last time she was bound and gagged were that first, she could make as much noise as she wanted and second, she wasn't actually tied to anything. She found that her hands and arms were tied just as firmly as her earlier impression had suggested. Leaning back against the pillows was more or less comfortable, but when she leaned forward and twisted from side to side to try and see her hands, all she managed to do was get a glimpse of her fingers waving around on either side of her behind her elbows. She writhed around a bit, but that only confirmed that her upper body was very snugly packaged indeed. She leaned back against the pillows and noticed how prominently her breast looked because of the tight rope beneath them. The ropes pulled her jumper so tightly against her bosom that it almost looked from her vantage point that she had on a swimsuit.


Abigail turned her attention to her legs and feet. It was odd to see them, because with one foot crossed over the other at her ankles, her legs and feet were positioned exactly like she would position them herself if she happened to be relaxing on the bed. It was so incongruous to see her lovely legs nonchalantly stretching out before her, her upper foot slightly moving up and down to some unconscious rhythm in Abigail's head. The heel of that foot was slipping out of the shoe and Abigail could see that she had been absentmindedly playing with the shoe with her toes as she often did during any normal day. "Ha! I'm getting downright used to this tied up business it seems." Still it was a strange feeling to be sitting comfortably, but totally unable to move from that deceivingly normal position.


Abigail flexed her legs and feet and began pulling and pushing with alternate legs against the ropes. All this accomplished was to instantly make the ropes seem to tighten their grip, to make the loose shoe fall completely off her foot and to make her hose wrinkle at her heels. Abigail pointed her toes and, in spite of herself, admired the way her legs and feet looked as they strained against the ropes. "A very cute pair of legs and feet. Not bad at all." Abigail had the absurd thought that tight, white ropes were actually rather effective fashion accessories. "Not exactly appropriate for the cocktail party circuit, but for enforced relaxing at home maybe just the thing," Abigail mused. Of course it would be best if there were a more appreciative audience than just herself. But who did she have in her life? Abigail was thinking of the woman and what she had said about her and her man's tie-up games. Her attention was diverted from the ropes and became fixed on the ceiling of the grim little room.


As she sat there letting her thoughts wander, her legs maintained a very slight pulling and pushing against her bonds – her feet alternately pointing and pivoting up. The foot that was crossed beneath was slowly ridding itself of its shoe, but Abigail only noticed when it fell off entirely and she felt cool air on the sole of her foot. Just as before, she was conscious of an increased feeling of vulnerability in just her stocking feet. She considered trying to get her shoes back on, but what was the point? 'It would be nice to get to the window,' she thought, 'It would probably take a goddamn hour, but maybe the time would pass faster.'


She decided to sit up on the edge of the bed. She leaned forward and carefully moved her legs to the side until her calves were dangling off the edge of the bed, conscious that if she fell over that it would be very, very difficult to sit up again. She sat there looking around. The bed was just high enough that even when she pointed her toes, they were a couple of inches shy of reaching the floor. Abigail began trying to uncross her feet so she could hop around. 'The simplest goddamn thing is such a pain when you're tied up,' she thought. Her feet pointed and waved as they struggled to slide around under the ropes and become side-by-side instead of crossed over and under each other. The ropes around her thighs were much more of an obstacle than she would have thought in this endeavor. As she unsuccessfully attempted to uncross her ankles, she looked around the room. In turning her head, she noticed that the gag was becoming alarmingly spit-soaked and there was a definite creeping wetness around the corners of her mouth. 'My God, I'm going to start drooling before long. Ewww.'


She saw that the woman had left the rolling office chair near the bed. Abigail reached out with her legs and feet and was only inches from reaching the chair. She slid down off the bed so that her butt was leaning against the very edge and most of her weight was on the toes of her pointed feet. Her stockinged soles were a little slippery on the wooden floor, so she was extra careful. Inch by inch she moved sideways along the edge of the bed, aware that if this maneuver was unsuccessful, she would have a difficult time getting all the way back up on the bed. But she was coming closer and closer to the office chair and was finally in what she thought might be a good position to stand up, make a couple of very dangerous hops and sit down in the chair. She slowly stood up so that all of her weight was now on her awkwardly crossed feet. She rose up on her toes, took a deep breath and made one hop forward, one that turned her to the left and then one that finally turned her so that her back was to the chair.


Her balance was extremely precarious and the way her legs and feet were tied made the ropes feel very, very tight. She looked behind her and saw that she was in a good position to sit in the chair. She let her butt fall into it and the chair rolled with her weight for a couple of feet. She was thrilled at first, but then decided that, relatively speaking, this was a very small victory. But now at least she could roam the small room at will by rolling herself in the chair. First stop: The window.


She found that she made the best progress by pushing the chair backwards. She spun around a couple of times just for the fun of it and rather sarcastically shouted out, "Wheeee, hurray, what fun!" She was astonished to hear this come out as, "EEEEE, uh-aaay, uph ummm!" Then with a bit of a low, laughing noise coming from behind the gag, she began her journey to the window. This was the easiest thing she had done since first being tied up hours ago. "This is much better than hopping," she remarked. The woman had closed the curtains, so when Abigail pulled up to the window she stuck her head in the part between the curtains and wriggled her head around until the curtains were parted on either side of her neck and she could see out. Anyone looking in from the building across the street would have seen a very cute, perky female head, with rather disheveled hair, peering between the curtains. A person more observant than the woman in the window earlier that day would have noticed that this lovely head had its lips and teeth parted by a very thick white gag.


An observer standing in the room behind her would have seen a lovely young woman whose head had disappeared behind the curtains. They would have noticed that her hands were alert, with fingers spread out and waving a little, ready to go into action if, by some miracle, they were released from their bonds. Abigail's legs were up on the balls of her stocking feet, which were braced backwards to keep her up against the window. The observer would have noted that her smooth heels and insteps were nicely revealed and that her hose was wrinkling where the ropes encircled her ankles. The foot that was tied behind the other had less purchase on the floor and from time to time the toes of that foot would lose their grip and wriggle around aimlessly, bouncing up and down and revealing the bottoms of some very cute, silken toes.


Abigail looked around. She didn't know what time it was, but it was dusk. There was only a gray, diffused light in the alley and she could see lights in many windows and the street light in their stretch of the alley was glowing weakly. She didn't see anyone, but there were several lit windows across the alley that had blinds and curtains open and she could see into the rooms of various offices. She was also increasingly aware that, as darkness fell, she was lit up by the streetlight, as if she were on a tiny stage, poking her head through the curtains in a comic way.


There was no audience, but thinking about being on a sort of stage set off a train of thought in her mind concerning the inherent drama of her situation. Here she was, a damsel in distress, just like in the movies – a damsel waiting for rescue, but straining to expedite that rescue in any way possible. She had seen hundreds of movies and TV shows that included this dramatic device, but had never thought of the reality. The reality was that she wasn't all that wild about the idea of a total stranger finding her bound and gagged. The thought embarrassed her. 'That means I'm not afraid,' she thought, 'and that is very strange indeed.' All the damsels she had seen, except in comedy scenes, had been terrified. Was this a comedy? Would her hero laugh when he came in and to find her all trussed up? The idea was curiously attractive. Her feelings and thoughts began to depart from the unproductive scene in the alley and start imagining what it would be like when her boss, Robert, came through the door.


He was an attractive man in a rough sort of way. He was almost a foot taller than her, which would put him around 6 feet, 4 or 5 inches and was very lean. His shoulders were startlingly wide and angular and when he had worn a short-sleeved shirt, Abigail had often noted that his long arm muscles were rock hard, with a network of veins running up and down them and standing out in stark relief. He was in his late forties, so there were a few early signs of aging. His hair had once been blonde, but was now white and had receded at his temples. His face was as angular as the rest of him with prominent cheekbones and the sort of wide jaw and aggressive chin that Abigail associated with professional athletes. His eyes were very pale – surprisingly, alarmingly so – and would have been menacing except for the fact that they usually exhibited a relaxed, good humor. When she and Robert had been engaged in their frequent low-keyed and flirtatious exchanges, she noticed that the deep crow's feet at the corners of his eyes deepened in an affectionate and amused expression. He wasn't a great laugher, but he was given to displaying a happy, sloppy grin. She knew he liked her. She knew she liked him. She had often thought of asking him to go out after work. They had occasionally had drinks in the office after hours, but so far it was as mere coworkers.


She could do a lot worse than Robert and since her divorce she had dated absolutely no one. She missed having a man. It seemed like a long time. It had been a long time. Her marriage had unraveled over a year before the divorce and Abigail realized that she was past being ready for male companionship. Her mind went back to running mind-movies about her rescue. Her mind had departed the view she had of the alley, but her eyes were still vigilant. Her thoughts were interrupted by movement in a window directly across from her. It was that same woman at the copy machine from earlier in the day. She was on a floor above where she had been before and Abigail could see her in the middle of an office. She could see now that the woman was really a very young girl, perhaps not even twenty years old, but Abigail recognized her black pageboy haircut.


"Putting in a long day, I see," Abigail muttered through the gag. Abigail adjusted herself so that her head was as high up in the window as possible. Her window was closed, of course, and so was the one across the street. Abigail couldn't make herself heard, so she just sat there and watched. She watched the girl, who was dressed in a green miniskirt and tight, black top walk back and forth across the office carrying little boxes from one side of the room to the other. The girl's total and graceful freedom of movement made Abigail feel like a hungry fellow with his nose pressed to the glass window of a restaurant watching other people eat. In her present state of bound helplessness, it seemed to Abigail that the simple ability to use one's legs and feet to cross a room while using one's hands to carry something was downright miraculous. A man stuck his head in the door of the girl's office and moved his mouth. The girl moved hers in response and the man was gone. "Good night, see you tomorrow," said Abigail. What she heard herself say was, "ooob miphe, eee ooo oo-ah-woe."


Then the girl put on a sweater. She bent down to pick something up off the floor and Abigail saw her lift one foot, put a shoe on it and then do the same with the other foot. Abigail saw her wriggle one leg on the floor to get that foot in the shoe just right. Then the girl came to the window, looked right at Abigail, or so it seemed (Abigail pressed her nose to the window and went, "UMMM UMMM UMMMM"), and let the blinds fall to the windowsill. The show was over. Nobody else was in sight. Abigail sighed and leaned back in the office chair, which surprised her by reclining at a steep angle on its spring-loaded base. Abigail sat there and stretched her legs out in front of her and put her heels on the windowsill. She moved her bound feet back and forth in a meditative way as she returned to her thoughts of being a damsel in need of rescue. Would she really have preferred the girl to rescue her, perhaps bringing in a whole SWAT team of strange, lascivious men or would her boss, and yes potential friend, Robert be much more the thing. But was he even coming? Did they get in touch with him?


She let her feet fall from the windowsill, which levered the chair back into an upright position and she spun around. She began to roll the chair back across the room and she wondered if the woman had locked the door that led to the rest of the office. She thought she had heard her do it, but now she couldn't be sure.


She rolled up to the door and carefully, carefully stood up, turned around with the tiniest steps she could manage until she was leaning against the wall right next to the door knob. She strained against the ropes around her arms, body and wrists to move her bound arms and hands sideways as a unit. With much effort and a few more tiny steps to the side, she was able to get the fingers of her left hand around the doorknob. She grasped it and turned it and the door creaked out into the next room a couple of inches. Abigail had never been more excited. Her options seemed limitless, but then she noticed that when she tried to push the door open all the way into the next office, there was something in the way. The woman or man had put a small, two-drawer file cabinet in front of it. Then Abigail heard the phone ring. The way she was standing was making the ropes feel uncomfortably tight on her crossed ankles, but she forced herself to be still and listen.


The answering machine came on and she heard the voice of the man who had tied her up earlier in the afternoon, "Hello young lady, I hope you can hear this. We talked to your boss just now on his cell phone and he knows everything. He was still downtown so it will be a little while before he gets to you, but your hero approaches. Let me put my friend on the phone, she wants to tell you something, I think."


There was a short silence and then Abigail heard, "AH HMMMMM. OO APH UH OOOB MIPHE EEEBEEE."


The man came back on the line, "If it's any comfort, I tied her just like you are now. She looks great and she's having fun. She tells me to tell you that you can have fun too. I think she's a little jealous of you. She should be. Goodbye sweetie pie."


The phone went dead. Abigail felt an instant and deep relief as well as a rising sense of hilarity at the thought of her captors playing their curious little game while leaving her a phone message. Abigail decided to get comfortable. Standing like this made all the ropes feel too tight. She made a hop or two, sat back down in the chair and rolled herself back over to the bed. She stood up, made as high of a jump as she could (not much) and threw herself on the bed, not caring if she would be stuck lying down. She pulled her legs and feet up and rolled over so that she was lying on her side facing the window with her legs curled up. She wriggled like a worm so that her head could rest on the pillows and then pushed with her feet until she was well up on the bed and lying straight and in the middle. Then she rolled over until she was on her side facing the door. She wanted to see Robert come in. She wondered how long it would be and how they would both feel.


Abigail was hoping she would be a fetching sight and that Robert would be at least amused by her predicament. Abigail was increasingly amused and was increasingly feeling something else that hadn't yet become clear enough to define. She found herself gently, rhythmically struggling now. She found that it satisfied something in her mind and body to pull and push and twist against her bonds so that her sense of helplessness was accentuated. Her feet and legs were enjoying the feeling of rubbing against the textured bedspread. The only annoyance was when her feet bumped against the shoes that she had earlier kicked off, so she kicked them to the edge of the bed and pushed them on the floor.


As she gently writhed on the bed, her mind turned inward and she began to imagine lying helpless in front of Robert. As her mind ran these little movies, her body began to feel a mounting anticipation. There grew a low, throbbing itch between her legs that her hands instinctively tried to scratch and when she became aware of her hands waving behind her in the effort to come from behind her back, the throbbing between her legs suddenly increased by several degrees. Abigail had to admit that she was now officially aroused and the fact that she couldn't do anything about it set off a chain reaction of struggle and reciprocal sexual urgency. She flexed and twisted against the ropes, not violently, but with an obvious impatience. The stage analogy that she had been aware of when she sat at the window occurred to her again. This feeling was akin to waiting in the wings before going in front of the audience. It was a mixture of nervous energy and eager anticipation. This combined with the undeniable sexual urgency made every nerve quiver.


Abigail looked down at her legs and feet and thought how nice they looked in their hose and how very exciting it was to see them bound together so securely. Absurd thoughts flew through her mind. Sequences that were obvious and banal, but that now had exquisite and significant meaning, 'My legs and feet are tied together by thin, cotton rope and no amount of struggle can free them. I can't untie them because my hands are tied behind my back and my arms are tied to my body. I can't call for help because my mouth is full of this gag. I can't touch myself and I can't walk around and look for someone to touch me. I can only wait. If someone were to walk in here and begin touching, I would not be able to stop them.'


Abigail immediately closed her eyes and imagined how it would feel if Robert was there stroking her gently between her legs and opening her clothes and touching wherever he liked. She was now quite wet between her upper thighs and the thought of Robert touching her helpless body made her shiver and breathe in sharply. It was at that moment that she heard the front door of the office open. Abigail froze. How embarrassing to be caught bound and gagged and aroused! Her hands ineffectually flapped around behind her as they reflexively attempted to go into action and smooth her clothes and arrange her hair. The ropes seemed to tighten and reminded her that nothing of that sort was going to happen. Her legs flexed and her toes pointed in exquisite anticipation. All she could do was wait. How he found her was how he found her. Should she begin calling out through the gag? She instantly decided it would be more fun to wait and greet him in some cute way.


She listened and to her amazement heard Robert (she certainly hoped it was Robert) go to the little bar he kept in his office and make a drink! And then she heard him make another drink! At first she felt hurt and neglected, but then realized that this was a very good sign indeed. His and hers drinks. A toast to the rescue of the lovely damsel. A touch of fun! She giggled and relaxed. Everything brought home to her the fact that the pace of events was out of her lovely, bound hands. She sat back to enjoy what was coming and felt a physical rush not unlike that of a powerful, but happily exciting drug.


Abigail heard the little file cabinet move away from the door to her room and then the door slowly creaked open as Robert came in holding two scotches on the rocks; one in each hand. He walked into the room in a matter-of-fact manner, glancing and smiling at her and just saying, "Hello, Abigail. Long day? Don't get up on my account. Ha ha."


Abigail lifted her head from the pillow and said, "hhmm, hhmmm ooo-phheelph." She brought her feet around and waved to him with one stocking foot. Robert pulled the office chair back from the bed and sat down. He placed both drinks on the old wooden chair that Abigail had been tied to earlier that afternoon and leaned back with a barely discernable smile playing on his lips. He was looking at Abigail and Abigail was looking at him.


She thought how odd that things should turn out this way. Earlier she had been quite anxious to escape. She had done everything she could think of to get untied, but now she was quite happy and excited to be bound hand and foot in the presence of this very attractive man and in no particular hurry to be untied either.


Robert continued after he took a sip of his drink, "Young lady, I admire your willingness to be in the office past normal hours, but I fail to see how one could get anything done lying around in bed. I perceive that someone has given you a most plausible excuse for your idleness by expertly tying you. I admire their technique. I was talking to the fellow about an hour ago and he assures me that you had no choice in the matter, so I might consider paying you the overtime, but we have something to discuss first. How long have we been working together?"


Abigail's face was lit up with what could only be described as glee. She was now wholeheartedly involved in this playful game and she said, "Uh-oww uh earph."


"About a year is it?" Robert looked at the ceiling. "Well, I must say time flies. When you first came here, I was only months away from a very irritating divorce and the very sight of your lovely self around the office was a comfort and a temptation. Your competence at your job only increased my admiration and a certain growing affection for you, but I wondered if perhaps I was too old for you. Or maybe I'm just shy. It's really very fortunate that I have found you this way tonight. I suppose I must untie you, and I will do so if you will agree to a simple request. My request has no strings attached. Ha ha, a bad pun. I'll try not to make a habit of it. I value our working relationship and would do nothing to hurt that, but your current state of helplessness gives me an advantageous negotiating position. I'm sure you can see that. Will you consider a simple request in return for being released?"


Abigail noticed that Robert was cracking himself up. She had long noticed that he had an inordinate appreciation of his own wit. It was an endearing flaw that Abigail had frequently enjoyed in him. To Robert's question she answered simply and sweetly, smiling around the knotted gag, "Eeph." Robert took this as a yes, but it didn't escape his notice that as she said this, Abigail's upper body strained against the ropes and her legs and feet struggled to free themselves as if to move toward him.


Without a word, Robert stood up and grabbed Abigail by the shoulders and sat her up on the bed so that her calves were hanging down the side. Then he smoothed the hair out of her eyes and sat down again. Abigail almost swooned at the touch of his hands. She sat there bouncing up and down a little and swinging her feet back and forth, bumping them against the side of the bed and pointing her toes in an unconscious attempt to touch the floor. She was the very picture of excited anticipation with every muscle now taut against the ropes.


Robert was visibly moved by the sight of her, but maintained a semblance of professional calm, "OK, I will agree to pay you the overtime and I will untie you, but you have to agree to let me buy you dinner tonight. It's only 8 o'clock and we can go to a very nice place I know. As I said, no strings attached and you can rely on me being a perfect gentleman. As a rescued damsel, it is no more than you deserve and you owe me for the rescue. Agreed?"


Abigail began to laugh a low, almost aggressive laugh that sounded like, "Ummm hmmmm hmmmm ummmm hmmmmm." She nodded her head in quick little up and down motions that couldn't be mistaken for anything other than eager agreement with Robert's offer.


Robert stood up and moved over to her and began to untie her feet. He moved up her body and finished by untying her hands and then the gag. Abigail felt almost weak from the physical effects of being in the same position so long, but more so from the sustained, thwarted excitement she had been feeling. She sat back on the bed and Robert sat back in the chair. She felt a little embarrassed now as her sense of control over events came back to her with physical freedom. She got up and got the drink Robert had made for her, slipped her shoes back on and sat back on the bed again. While she had been tied up there had been an open and intimate sense of fun between them, but now she was aware that neither of them knew quite what to say. She decided to save the day.


Abigail looked at Robert. He was trying not to laugh. She said, "I guess it's obvious, but it's only fair to tell you that the last fifteen or twenty minutes was a lot of fun and I was so happy you finally showed a little interest in me. I was beginning to wonder about you and whether I would have to ask you out myself."


"So you had fun all afternoon being tied up, eh? I hope I wasn't too unwelcome an interruption?"


Abigail rolled her eyes. "No stupid, what was fun was being tied up with you in the room. It was fun waiting for you too." Abigail said this last with a sweet shyness and a creeping blush covered her face.


Robert's face began to take on a bit of color itself, "I know sweetie. I could tell by looking at you when I came in. I don't think I've been so pleasantly surprised by a woman's reaction to me in years."


Abigail's suddenly started as if remembering something, "But what about those people that tied me up. Aren't you worried and furious about that? How can you sit there so calm as if we're just having fun?"


Robert laughed, "Oh, them. Well, I know who they are. I've never met them, but they have a reputation. They're not really evil or anything and I don't think they did us much damage. What they were looking for is very important to them, but not so much to us. I don't even think it would be worth the trouble to turn them in unless you are determined to get at them for keeping you tied up all evening. I'll explain the details later."


Abigail reflected, "They were actually sort of nice to me in a way. The woman told me some very interesting things that maybe I'll tell you later. I don't care if you don't care. One thing, though, I don't want to go out in public right now. I feel like sort of a mess and I've got these rope marks on my wrists. Why don't you just come to my house and we'll have our first date there?"


Robert actually looked relieved and happy, "I'm glad you said that. I've had a long day too and we can sit around and talk without being around other people. I've had enough of people and I want to hear all about what happened today. And I want to hear about you."


While driving home Abigail was happy. The possibilities for amorous adventures tonight were myriad. It had been so long. Abigail had a deep need to be touched by a man she liked and trusted. What harm could it do? Back at the office, when Robert wasn't looking, she had gathered the ropes and gag that had bound her and secreted them in her purse. At the thought of her bonds traveling with her to her house, she squirmed in the driver's seat and gave a squeal as she decided, if things seemed to be proceeding properly that her extremely state of excitement just might require that her body be securely restrained later this evening. She began thinking of a suitable outfit for the occasion.

Copyright 7/2005 by Rayron D'Olier







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