Student Strife










Not even the sounds of Radio Luxembourg were making me feel more relaxed – if anything, it meant it was more difficult for me to do much except move, and try to talk – without much success.


How the evening turned this way, I still can’t get my mind round – I had finished my classes for the day, and caught the bus back home to our flat.  I’m a final year student, with a little extra money from a job in a bar, so I was wearing a lovely long sleeved grey top matched with dark blue corduroy pants, the legs tucked into my favourite tan leather Frye boots.


I love the way they fit my legs, and the way the corduroy sounds when I walk down the street.


Normally – the way they sound right now as I move is not the most comforting thing in the world, if truth be told.  But it does distract me from what’s happening a little bit.


Where was I?  Oh yes, what was happening…  I got back to the flat and let myself in, went to the kitchen to make a mug of Maxwell House – and was taken completely by surprise when a hand in a leather glove was clamped suddenly over my mouth and I was pulled back against someone.


A very strong someone – his grip over my mouth was like iron as I tried to scream for help.  He sounded it as well, when he told me in a deep voice – well, I won’t repeat the words exactly, but the gist was if I didn’t stop struggling and calling for help, he would hurt me.




Well, that was enough for me, so I stopped trying to break free and nodded to show I understood what he had said.  He told me t be quiet, and when he let me go to walk to the windows, and draw the curtains over them – then t take one of the wooden chairs from the dining table that was on one side of the room, and put it in the middle on a rug.


He let me go and I walked slowly over, too scared to turn round as I closed the long curtains, leaving the room in semi-darkness.  I then walked backwards, lifting one of the chairs and bringing it to the spot he had indicated without looking round.  I heard his footstep behind me as he told me to sit down, and put my arms between the slats in the chair back – it had three narrow wooden strips, a good six inches between each of them.


I asked why – and all that happened was a hand pressing down on my shoulder, and a whisper into my ear about what he would do if I didn’t do exactly what he said.  So I leaned forwards, and slowly put my hands between the slats.


Only to have my wrists grabbed and pulled back as my own back hit the wood, and then I felt some sort of rope as it was pulled tightly round my wrists.  It hurt as it rubbed on my wrists, even if it stayed over the cuffs of my sweater, but I had no say in that.  I just sat, trying not to cry as the rope was pulled even tighter around and between my wrists, and then I felt my arms against the chair back as he secured my wrists to the central spar.


As he walked round, I got my first look at him – a big man, the boiler suit he was wearing open at the neck so that I could see a t-shirt underneath, and leather gloves – as well as a mask over his head, black wool, with holes for his eyes and mouth.  He knelt down and pulled my left ankle over to the front leg of the chair, as I saw the length of rough brown rope in his hand, and then he secured the two together, the rope tied as if my leg was a stick so that when he was finished, I could not move my leg away.


My right leg was secured in the same way, before her stood up and walked behind me again – and I saw him passing more of the rope over me and pulling it tight, forcing me against the chair back as he proceeded to wrap the rope around me and the chair.  In the process, he stretched my jumper tightly over my chest, made it impossible for me to do more than wriggle round, and every time I did that, the ropes rubbed on me…


He also passed it round my legs and lap, so that I was truly secured in place – and then he pressed a long strip of brown sticking plaster over my mouth, sealing my lips and making it impossible for me to do anything over than mumble – and then to gasp as I heard the front door open and close…



When I walked into the front room of the flat, and saw Paula in the chair, I swear my breath was literally taken away – so the leather gloved hand clamped over my mouth didn’t silence me that much more.  She was tightly tied to the chair with thin brown rope, brown sticking plaster over her mouth – so a robbery.


That was at least my hope.  I didn’t even get a chance to take my white wool cardigan off – it was a thick, long one so I didn’t need another coat, and covered the pale blue roll neck sweater and knee length black skirt with a grey fern print.  Working as a library assistant had a certain dress code – and it helped to pay the bills.


I was wearing my favourite black boots as well, with a thick block heel – but as I was pulled backwards and turned round, and told to walk to my bedroom, the sound of them on the thin carpet that covered the wooden stairs was not the most comforting sound.

Nor was the sound of the heavy breathing in my ear or the feel of it on my neck – I was starting to sweat with fear as I walked into my bedroom, and he told me to lie face down, with my hands behind my back.


I wanted to ask him what he was intending to do to me, but somehow I felt silence was the best option – especially when I felt him pull my cardigan off me, and I saw from the corner of my eye as it dropped to the floor – before he crossed my wrists, and I felt the rope.  It rubbed on my skin, as he pulled it tight, then round and between my arms several times before he bound the ends together.  I wriggled my fingers, trying to find the knot, but it was well out of reach as I felt him cross my ankles and then start to bind them together with more of the same rope.


The squeak of leather rubbing on leather added to the sounds of his breathing, my breathing, the creak of wood from downstairs, and the sounds from outside, because I was too bloody scared to say anything.  I just lay there as he pulled the rope between my ankles, tied it off, and then he tied another band around my legs below my knees- and that was when I really wished I had worn tights or something else.  This rope rubbing on the sensitive skin at the back of my legs was driving me crazy, both with the tightness and the way it was making me feel.


It was very strange – and then he made me roll over and sit up, as he pulled my legs to the side of the bed.  I could see the way the rope looked on the black leather and my pale skin, and it terrified me – before he pulled back on my long brown hair, making me yelp.


A yelp that was suddenly muffled as he pushed something into my mouth – and as I looked in the long mirror on my wardrobe door, I could see exactly what that something was.  I could see the edge of my panties sticking out from between my lips, before he knelt on the bed behind me, and I saw he had a pair of my American Tan tights in his hands.


I’ll give you one guess what he did with the gusset in the next few minutes.


And you win the stuffed dog – because he stuffed the gusset into my mouth, pushing my panties even further in, and then tied the nylon round my head.  The rope on my wrists and knees was bad enough – but the thin nylon really dug into the corners of my mouth as they were pulled back, the legs pushing into my cheeks as he knotted them together at the base of my neck.


He then wrapped a second pair of my tights around my body, forcing my arms into my sides as he pulled them tight under my chest and formed a band that secured them there.  A third pair pulled my upper arms into me as he tied it round my shoulders, almost hugging me as he tied them off.


I started to wriggle round and tried to talk, only to hear muffled grunts and moans – and besides, if I tried to move my lips, the thinly stretched nylon was threatening to cut into the corners of my mouth.  I could feel the nylon and silk slowly start to soak up the saliva in my mouth, as he reached round and started to stroke his hands over my chest.


It was the strangest of feelings, and I tried to move out of the way as I struggled on the bed – but then I heard the front door of the flat open and close, as he pushed me over onto my side….





I was trying like crazy to find some way of getting free from the chair, but I could hardly move – and when I did, there was the strange side of my boots as they rubbed on the wood, or the rope rubbed on them, or the way it felt as the bands that encircled and held my body firmly against the chair back rubbed on my chest and stomach.


I still tried to call out for help as well, but the brown fabric covering my mouth made it impossible for me to even move my lips, never mind say anything that didn’t sound as if it was coming from the other side of the wall.  The sweat was making my jumper and pants cling to me -


There was one other sound – that of corduroy rubbing, but the squeak only seemed to add to the symphony of my helplessness – which was made even more dramatic by the sound of someone saying “oh my god…”




Classes were over for another week, and I was ready to kick back as I walked down the street.  I loved my course, I loved where I lived, I loved the way I could be myself and wear whatever I wanted after twelve years of boarding school…


My long black hair fell over the shoulders of the white sweater I was wearing over a black blouse, the collar of the blouse and the cuffs contrasting with the white Arran knit.  I was also wearing black velvet trousers, tucked into a lovely pair of very high tan leather boots – the sort that almost came up to my crotch and hugged my legs almost as tightly as the trousers.




My outfit was completed with a long paisley scarf, wrapped twice round my neck and hanging down to my waist at the front.  All in all, a very classy but casual look.


So I was in a great mood when I came back to the flat and let myself in, expecting to hear either Paula or Holly talking, if not both.  Not that the flat was silent – I could hear noises – and then I heard the wood creaking so I walked into the front room – and saw Paula bound tightly to one of the dining chairs.


“Oh my god…”


She suddenly turned her head and looked at me, and I saw the brown fabric covering her mouth as she said “RHNNNNNN”.


There was no need for her to ask twice, as I turned to run out of the door – and instead ran straight into a masked man as he came quickly down the stairs in front of me.


He took me completely by surprise, and I was petrified – seeing a pair of piercing blue eyes staring out from the eye holes of a balaclava mask will do that to anyone.  So I didn’t resist as she twisted me round and pushed me against the wall, and told me to put my hands behind my back.


I slowly did that, expecting him to use something to tie my wrists together – a reasonable supposition, I thought, given the start Paula and I suspected Holly was in.


Hey – I’m a law student, sometimes the court speak comes out.


Anyway, he did start to tie me up – but mot my wrists.  Instead, I felt the rope around my elbows as they were forced together, making me gasp as he wound whatever he was using around and between my arms and secured them together.


It was the strangest of feelings – only added to when he bound my wrists tightly together behind my back as well.  The simple action of doing that had pulled my shoulder blades back, and as I glanced down I saw that my chest had somehow appeared to be larger.


And that was the most peculiar of feelings, as I saw him pass the rope – thin, brown, rough, and it itched like crazy on my bare wrists as I moved my fingers.  But it was strong – and it stretched my jumper even more as he pulled it tight, forcing my arms against my back as it went round.


And round.


And round.


By the time he had finished, there was a band with several layers of the rope sitting above and below my chest, the white stretched so tight now – but it wasn’t just the white.  Underneath, I could feel the blouse was stretched tight as well, and that the buttons were threatening to pop – so I was glad of the additional cover.


Besides, I had more important things on my mind.  Namely, why the hell was this masked guy in our flat, and why had he tied me up, secured Paula to the chair, and…




“Keep quiet,” he growled as he turned me to the stairs.  “Up – move.”


I walked slowly up the stairs, mainly so that I could keep my balance, but as I walked up and turned right I got the shock of my life.




I heard the voices downstairs, heard Steph talking, and then the footsteps – but I was in no position to do anything about it.  When we heard the front door open and close, he had pulled my ankles back and tied them to my wrists with more of the rope, and then ran out of the room.  I had seen several lengths in his gloved hand as he ran off – and now I could see him in the doorway with Steph.


He had already tied her arms up – I could see the bands above and below her chest, but her chest was also forced up and out, and I could not help wondering what he had done to make that happen.


She looked at me, and whispered “are you all right?” as she looked at me on the bed, my skirt raised up a little because of my struggles.  I nodded as he came in and grabbed more ropes, and then left me alone…




Holly was helpless, Paula was helpless – and I knew I would be soon as well as I was pushed into my bedroom, and made to sit down.  I saw more of the thin brown rope in his hands, and watched as he pulled my legs up and forced me round, before he bound my ankles tightly together.


I could see the thin bands getting thicker as he wound it tightly round then, the dark brown blending in a way with the tan leather, and then between my legs as he made it even tighter.  Tying that off, he then started to bind my legs together below my knees, even smiling as he looked at me and immobilised me even more.


I twisted my legs round when he was finished, hearing the squeak of leather – and then he pushed me onto my back, rolled me over and pulled my ankles back, securing them to the ropes round my chest.  How far did he pull them back?  I could feel the heels of my boots with my fingers, as I lay there, wondering what he was going to do.


Then he loosened the scarf round my neck and pulled it up over my chin, and I knew what was coming next.  And there was no way I could stop him – so I opened my mouth and felt the material on my tongue as he pulled it tight between my lips, pressing my tongue down.  He passed both ends round my head again, making it a triple layer filling my mouth and keeping me quiet as he secured the ends together at the back of my neck.


I was frightened then – I knew there was nothing I could to stop him doing whatever he wanted, and there was a look in his eyes…


I tried to get out of the way as he looked at me, and reached out…






I opened my eyes to see Paula and Holly looking at me, as the closing theme of Thriller played on the television.


“Nice dream,” Paula said with a smile as she stood up.  I shook my head and said “I don’t know – strange dream anyway.  What happened in the end?”


“The neighbour came in, figured something was wrong and called the police – they came and arrested the two escaped convicts, then found his wife’s body in the closet."


“Imagine that,” I said with a smile.  “Who comes up with these stories anyway?”


“A slightly warped mind,” Holly said as she stood up.  “Anyway – bed?”


“Yeah,” I said as I stood up and stretched – and then we all froze as the two men dressed in denim came in, one with a knife from the kitchen, the other with a coil of brown rope…







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