The Awakening of Leila

 

 

 

 

How did it happen?  How did I get into the position I am in now?  Well, it’s a fair question – and one I have had to wonder about from time to time.  You see, for me, it can be a little difficult to reconcile with other things.

 

My name’s Leila, and I’ll say it up front – I am a believing Muslim woman, in my mid-twenties, and I seek to live the life of a devout woman.  But I also have a secret – and I have heard my Christian friends speak of a similar dilemma in their lives.

 

You see, from a young age, I have enjoyed the thought of being tied up, unable to speak, under the control of someone.  I cannot explain why I do, although I can understand how I discovered it.  As a young girl, I loved Nancy Drew books, as well as those Enid Blyton ones with Famous Five and Secret Seven.  My family were not particularly strict in adherence to teachings on dress and other things, so in my teens I dressed in the same way as my friends.

 

When I was fourteen, I went to a sleepover party at a friend’s house.  You know how they go – too much pizza, too much fizzy drinks, and we were all laughing and joking.  So when someone picker up the Coke bottle, and proposed a game of Truth or Dare, I joined in, and when my turn came up, I said Dare.

 

Anna, the person hosting the party, then dared me to let them tie my hands and feet and gag me.  Well, my mind shot back to those books – so I agreed to the dare.  I had on a purple t-shirt with a message that read “Fashion Girl Party” in the front, and pants with an American flag motif.  My hair was uncovered – remember, we were not strict adherents – as one of the other girls took my hands behind my back, and tied my wrists together with a black bandana she had been wearing.  It wasn’t very tight, but I didn’t mind, as Anna took a blue and white scarf, folded it into a band and tied my ankles together as well.

 

She then left the room for a moment, and returned with a large men’s handkerchief – white, with a purple border.  She folded that along the diagonal, and then tied it round my head so that it covered my mouth, the point over my chin.

 

As I said, it wasn’t tight, and I played along, pretending to be quiet when if I spoke, I guessed I would be heard.  But there was something else – as I struggled a little, trying desperately not to have the scarves fall away from my hands or feet, I was laughing – and I was enjoying it.  I guess I felt I knew what it was like to be Nancy Drew, or Daphne, or any of those teenage sleuths.

 

There was something else however – I felt excited, and I wasn’t sure why.  It was best I kept those ideas to myself to begin with, but when I was untied a few truth and dares later, I said thank you and joined in.

 

That night, however, as I lay in my sleeping bag, I wondered what it would be like if I was tied in the bag…

 

Anyway, we all grow up, and move on, and when I was eighteen I went to university, to study history.  It was a good course, and I learned a lot – but it was also when I became more serious about my faith.  I also began to explore more how I felt, and what I enjoyed – and that included those feelings of wanting to be held hostage.

 

The rag week in my first year, I agreed to be one of the students who would be ‘kidnapped’ to help raise money.  I genuinely signed and didn’t think much more about it – until the morning I was literally lifted off the ground by two girls on my course.

 

I was wearing a pink and grey t-shirt and pink jeans, with grey slippers, as they took me to a van and I was helped in.  One of the boys was inside, as he took a roll of black tape up and told me this was the charity kidnap.  He then taped my wrists together in front of me, as I was sat down, and one of the girls who had brought me there rolled up a white cotton cloth with brown stripes – and then told me to open my mouth.

 

I’d had my mouth covered a few times since that party – usually by myself – but this was the first time someone had properly gagged me, as she pulled the scarf between my lips and tied it round my head.  It trapped my hair against my neck, as the boy taped my legs together above my ankles, and I was then blindfolded with a wide band, formed from a second scarf just like the one that was getting wetter in my mouth!

 

I obviously had no idea where I was going, as the van moved off, but I did try to move my wrists and ankles – and I could hear the crinkle of the tape as I did so.  There was also the strange sensation of the cotton band keeping my tongue pressed down – it was a clean taste, but it also stopped me from doing more than mumbling.

 

There was something else again though – that feeling of helplessness, and having to trust in others.  It may sound crazy, but it was almost empowering to me…  I twisted my arms and legs round, hearing the crinkle of the tape, and wondered what was going on as I heard other people been brought in…

 

I was like this for a couple of hours, before I and the other hostages were released, and we went for a drink.  I did not dare tell anyone what had happened, but I cherished that memory…

 

 

After I graduated, I started to dress more in line with my faith, and to wear a hijab of some form when in public.  I also struggled with how that experience had made me feel – I still tied my ankles and legs from time to time, but it wasn’t the same…

 

Then a year after graduation, I went to visit one of my aunts.  As she was stricter in her adherence than me, I dressed brightly, but modestly – a long sleeved green tunic dress with a pair of green pants that had a floral motif, sandals, and a three-layer hijab – brown, then peach, then purple.

 

Anyway, she was wearing a black floor length gown and hijab, as we sat and discussed matters of great import.  Ah, who am I kidding – we were gossiping, when my nephews came in, and pointed their water pistols at us.

 

They said they were here to rob us, and as we both raised our hands they said they needed to make sure we stayed where we were, and that we could not call for help.  I looked at my aunt, and she said we would play along for a few minutes.

 

They told us to put our hands on our heads, and then they each took a length of red rope.  The older of the two boys knelt in front of me and tied my legs together above my knees, and then took the rope down and tied my ankles together, while his brother did the same to my aunt.  She looked at me and smiled, as the boys looked at each other, and told us both to put our hands together in front of us.

 

They then took another length of rope, and used them to tie our wrists together – but I noticed they not only tied the rope around my wrists, but between my arms as well.  It felt tight, it felt secure, it felt – exciting.  And they made it even more exciting when they tied my wrists to my legs, wrapping it round the knee binding as well.  I really could not do anything other than try to move.

 

I asked my aunt where they learned to do this, and she just smiled and shook her head – then opened her mouth as my nephew tied a rolled up white scarf between her lips.  I saw one held in front of me as well, and allowed his brother to gag me, closing my teeth and lips over the thick white band.

 

They then high fived each other and left the room as we looked at each other – and then I looked down, moving my legs to one side as I gazed at the red rope that ran down the back of my legs.  I twisted them round, feeling the ropes rubbing on my wrists, and wondering why I was getting a warm and fuzzy feeling.

 

But when I looked over at my aunt, and saw the dark stain in the centre of her mouth, and the same look in her eyes, I knew I was not the only one who felt like this.  We exchanged a look, and a nod, before the boys came back in, saying we were being rescued.

 

I watched as they untied their aunt, and you know what?  If I had been able to speak, I would have asked them not to untie me.  But I could not, and they did, as we both reached round, untied and removed the gags.  We sat there for a moment, staring at the dark grey stain, before my aunt asked me how I felt. 

 

I looked at her, trying to put into words what I was wanting to say, when she reached over and out her hand on mine.  She told me she understood, and she felt the same way. 

 

I asked her of it was all right to feel that way – and she did something very strange.  She looked at me, and said there was nothing in the Koran against it.  As for any other questions, they would have to wait for another day – but she also said if I wished to explore it further, then she would be willing to help me discover how it felt to be properly secured and quiet.

 

It took me some time to wrestle with myself on that, but a couple of weeks later she called me again, and invited me to come round to see her.  Only her – so I agreed, and the following Sunday afternoon I went to her house.

 

I was dressed in a long dress – light purple, with a floral print on it in red and blue, a large shawl with a blue tiger stripe pattern tied round my head and neck, falling over my shoulders and in front.  I also had on, at her suggestion, a pair of black ankle boots.

 

When I arrived, she offered me a drink, and then said she was going to use some of the same ropes as the boys had used on her.  She told me she was going to do to me what had been done to her when two men surprised her in her house.  She described them to me – dressed in black, one over a foot taller than the other, both wearing black ski masks that meant she only saw their eyes and mouths as they spoke.

 

She told me they had been extremely charming and polite, but had left her with no option but to cooperate.  But she also said it had been a liberating experience for her, and she felt it would be for me as well.  I nodded in agreement, and then she picked up a length of the red rope and doubled it over.

 

Walking behind the blue recliner I was sitting on, she arranged my arms so that my wrists were crossed behind my back, and then used the rope to secure them together.  She kept the rope over the sleeves of my dress, but she worked quickly, wrapping the rope several times round them as I felt them being pulled together.  She then passed the rope between my wrists as the boys had done, and I felt the rope tighten still more, before she tied it off.  When she had finished, I tried to find the ends with or the knot with my fingers, but I could not.

 

She asked me how it felt, and as I looked at her I told the truth – I like dhow it felt, even if I had no idea how I was going to get out of it.  She told me that was kind of the idea, as she knelt down, taking care not to trap her skirt with her knees, and tied my ankles together in the same way as my wrists.

 

I could see why she said to wear the boots – the rope rubbed on the leather, but they were soon locked together as firmly as my wrists.  She asked me again how I felt, and I nodded, said I was good, and she should carry on.

 

As I watched, she took more of the red rope and tied my legs together, just above my knees, trapping the skirt around my legs as she did so.  She did not try to take the rope between my legs – no way she could any way – but it was tight, and she took the long ends and tied them between my ankles as well.

 

I wriggled round, and said it felt secure.  I wasn’t prepared to admit yet just how helpless I felt, and what the feeling inside me was like – but she beat me to it, nodding as she said she remembered how excited she felt when the man she called Mister Tall had tied her legs as well.

 

She said he had then used some rope to tie her arms to her body – and if I was ready, she would do that to me as well.  I thought for a moment, and then nodded.

 

She stood up and picked up the longest length of rope, doubled it over, and then walked behind the recliner as I looked straight ahead.  I saw her pass the rope over my head, and then she pulled it round my body, below my chest, as I felt my arms being forced into my sides.  She then passed the ropes round me several times, taking it above and below my chest, as I felt the bands pressing on my arms and body.

 

And it was that pressing on my body that was making me feel a little strange, something I had never experienced before.  I struggled again as she tied the ropes off, and the ropes rubbed on me – even with my hijab and dress, and it felt – nice and strange at the same time.

 

She then asked me again how it felt, and I nodded – I may even have smiled, as she said I seemed happy with what had happened.  I asked her how she felt, and she sat next to me, saying how she was scared at the time, but also knew they were not going to hurt her, just as I knew she was not going to hurt me.

 

I nodded in agreement, and then I asked how she was stopped from calling for help.  She stood up and left the room for a few minutes, returning with a red and blue patterned scarf.  She rolled it into a band, and I thought she was going to use it as a cleave gag.  But she then tied a large knot in the centre of the band, and told me to open my mouth as wide as I could.

 

She eased the silk knot behind my teeth, and I tasted the material as it pushed down my tongue, then closed my lips over it as she took the band round my head, securing the ends together on top of my scarf at the base of my neck.

 

I looked at her as she stood in front of me, getting used to the feel of the silk in my mouth, and the pressure on my limbs and my body from the ropes.  It felt tight, it felt secure, it felt strange, it felt…

 

As I wriggled round, and the ropes rubbed on my chest, I realised something I had to admit to myself – it felt exciting, wonderful, amazing, and totally right!

 

She looked at me, smiled, and said that I understood now – and I slowly nodded in response, as she helped me to lie on my side, my head resting on the arm of the lounger.  As she left the room, I struggled a little, loving the way the ropes rubbed on me and made me feel, as I lay there, helpless, silenced, and immersing myself totally in the experience….

 

 

 

She helped me a few times after that, but eventually I knew I needed something more – and she understood that as well, as she encouraged me to make friends who would help me with this.

 

Eventually, I met Abi, a friend of a friend, and we started to grow closer together, but I was afraid to ask him if he would – well, if he would hold me captive.  I had learned how to do a semi-decent job if binding myself, but somehow it was just not the same.

 

And then one night I called on him unexpectedly, and noticed the book he was reading.  For a man to read Fifty Shades of Grey was unusual, for a Muslim man doubly so – but then he told me it was complete rubbish, and he could do a far better job of making sure a woman could not leave him or disobey him.

 

Well, he raised it!  I challenged him to prove it, and once he had finished staring at me, he asked me four little words.

 

Do you trust me?

 

I nodded as I sat down, casually dressed – a red sweatshirt, faded jeans, black Ugg boots and a black hijab covering the green scarf over my hair.  He smiled, left the room for a few minutes, and returned with several lengths of white rope.  He asked me to turn on the bed I was sitting on, and then her folded my arms behind my back before using one of the lengths of rope to tie my wrists together.

 

As I had my back to him, he could not see the smile on my face, and the way I bit softly on my bottom lip as he made sure they were tightly secured together.  He then took a longer length of rope, and tied it round my body and arms, making sure they were pinned to my sides.  I wriggled round a little, and he asked if I was uncomfortable, or the ropes were too tight.

 

Well, I wasn’t going to admit just how good it felt, so I nodded, composed myself and said it was fine.  I turned round and smiled at him, as he knelt down and started to tie my ankles together.

 

The way he did it was different however – he first took my boots off, leaving me in my peach sock covered feet, and then wrapped the rope round my legs.

 

And wrapped it round again.  And again.  He wrapped it round eight or nine times, pulling my legs together, and then tying it off before he passed the rope between my legs, and tied the ends off.

 

I raised my legs and looked at them, then at Abi and said something about I was not going anywhere.  He nodded, and said he knew I wasn’t – then asked me to lie on my stomach.  I looked at him, then turned myself round, lay on my back and then rolled over so that I was resting my head on the end of the bed, my chin on a folded towel.

 

I looked over at him as he picked up a length of red rope, and then bent my legs so that they formed a ninety-degree angle.  I wondered what he was going to do, and then he pulled on the rope between my legs, passing the red rope under it and then securing it to my wrists.

 

He told me it was a hogtie, but what it really meant was I would not be able to move.  And do you know something?  He was right – I was stuck.  He then knelt at my head, stroked my cheek, and said I looked cute like that.  He also asked if I wanted to be quiet.

 

Well, he had done this already, so I nodded as he took a clean handkerchief, folded it, and asked me to open my mouth.  When I did so, he pushed the cloth in, and then told me to close my mouth.

 

As I watched, he picked up a four-inch-wide roll of white tape, peeled a length away and then tore it off.  Kneeling by my head, he pushed the left side of my hijab back, and stuck the edge of the tape to my skin, before he gently and firmly pressed it onto my face, covering my mouth as the tape seemed to form to the shape of my jaw.  He then pushed back the edge of my hijab on the other side, pressed the edge of the tape firmly to my mouth, and then adjusted the hijab so that it covered the edge of the tape.

 

I lay there for a few minutes, trying to move my legs, and only succeeding in pulling my wrists back – but it was what he had done to my mouth that was so different.  The cloth was filling my mouth, soaking up the saliva – but it was the tape, which would not budge however much I tried to move my mouth or lips.  I really, truly was silenced, and he knew it – as he returned with something in his hand.

 

I looked at him, and mumbled something that I wanted to sound like “you wouldn’t” – but he did, as he switched the electric toothbrush on and started to run it over the soles of my feet.

 

Did I happen to mention how ticklish I was?

 

Well, I thrashed round on the bed, and squealed as the tape muffled all other sounds – and as I did so, the rope rubbed on my chest, and my body on the bed.  I loved the way it felt to be tied like this, unable to say anything, but there was something else happening, a burning inside me I had never felt before, that seemed to envelop me and make me feel giddy…

 

I suddenly shuddered as…  Well, something happened.  I’m not going to say what, but Abi stopped tickling me, knelt down and asked if I enjoyed what he had done.  I looked at him and nodded, before he said he had enjoyed it as well – and he liked me.

 

He wanted to get to know me better.

 

And he wanted to do whatever I wanted him to do to me.

 

If I would let him.

 

I looked at him, panting through my nose, and slowly nodded as he leaned over, and put his lips on my tape covered ones, and I returned the gesture…

 

 

 

Abi and I have been dating for a year now, and today he is making me feel very, very special with what he is doing.  I was wearing a purple scarf as my head covering, over a black jumper and pants, my feet bare.

 

I was sitting on the bed as he tied rope between the bands holding my ankles and the rope below my knees, cinching both bands as it held them together.  My wrists were already tied behind my back, and I watched as he stood up, and doubled over a very long length of rope.

 

I wriggled round, smiling as Abi then started to pull the rope around my body, forcing my arms into my sides as it went above and below my chest.  I smiled as I felt the bands rubbing on me – even more so as he pulled them together behind my back, and then took the rope under one arm, pulled it up and around the back of my neck, and tied the rope off.

 

Or so I thought, as he brought the rope back over one shoulder, between my breasts and under the lower band of rope, and finally over my other shoulder.  The end result – my breasts were framed in rope, stretching my top, rubbing on all sides – and I was loving it.

 

Abi helped me to lie on my stomach, and then pulled my ankles back, using a length of rope to link my ankles to the ropes he had tied round my chest.  It had the effect of pulling my head up – and I saw what he was planning to use.

 

Opening my mouth as wide as I could, he pushed the yellow plastic ball into my mouth, and fastened the leather straps tightly round my head.  The yellow ball had holes drilled in it, so I could breathe easily, and I wriggled round.

 

Feeling the new sensations again – especially with the special rope Abi had tied, that went round my waist and between my legs, the rope between my ankles and chest passed under it.  It felt so unique as it rubbed on me – and as Abi began to massage my teeth, I lost myself in a modest haze of ecstasy…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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