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Annette’s Dad

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I now know that Annette and her dad arranged it all but I didn’t know that then. It started just after I turned eighteen when Annette, my long time best friend, showed me a glossy magazine which she said her dad had left lying around. We both went through the American bondage magazine with its many coloured plates of young nude women who were all very securely bound or chained. A little later on Annette said she had found where her dad kept his stash and, when we were alone in the house, she brought out the old briefcase containing the magazines.

We lounged on Annette’s bed going through them looking at the helpless models. Some were gagged with leather or rubber gags or even with huge contraptions of wood or metal and I noticed how a gagged woman looks permanently surprised with her mouth and eyes wide open. The two of us wondered how it would feel to be totally helpless and at the mercy of a strange man who could do whatever he liked to his young victim. Of course such a thing is every woman’s worst fear but at the same time there was that delicious tingle. I cannot explain how fear is strangely attractive but the paradox goes very deep into the human psyche as can be seen by the popularity of horror films and ghost stories. People like being scared and I found a distinct moistness between my legs as we talked at length about each picture of restrained pale flesh.

Well that session with the magazines prompted much discussion between the two of us about the mysterious fetish of bondage and the very next Saturday I went around to Annette’s house which was just two doors down the road from mine. We often spent time in each other’s homes but on this occasion Annette was alone in the house with her dad. She explained that her two younger brothers were taking part in a swimming gala and her mum had gone along as a helper. The gala was in Birmingham so they would be staying the weekend and returning home late Sunday night.

Annette let me in and we sat down in the lounge where her dad was sitting in a chair. Then he dropped his bombshell.

“So you and Annette have been rooting around in my wardrobe.”

I looked at Annette who was looking down at her feet. She spoke very quietly.

“We didn’t put the case back quite right. He knows.”

Annette’s dad had always seemed quite severe to me and a bit scary. He had close cropped ginger hair and a ginger moustache. He told Annette to finish the story.

“He punished me.”

She was almost whispering and she pulled back the sleeves of her sweatshirt to show the purple bruises around her wrists.

“He kept me handcuffed from 5pm yesterday until just before you came in.”

Her dad was still not satisfied.

“Tell Julie what you wore for your punishment Annette.”

Her lip turned in before she whispered the next part.

“I had to be naked the whole time.”

I couldn’t believe it. An eighteen year old chained and naked in a middle class house in Portsmouth with her dad there seeing..well seeing everything. Her dad was staring straight at me.

“Would you say it is fair Julie for your friend to be the only one punished? At least Annette lives here. What would you say about a guest who invaded someone’s privacy like that?”

What was he suggesting? I looked at my friend thinking of her suffering that humiliation for what the two of us had done. At the same time there was that very unwelcome little voice in my head telling me that this was what I had dreaming about and to be honest it had been fuelling more than a little masturbation alone in my bed in the dark. I asked him what he had in mind and really that was the moment when I crossed the line. I could have just laughed it off or refused to discuss it any further but in asking for instructions I had consented to what was to befall me.

He was talking quite quietly but also very firmly as he made it clear that this was not to be a game. Once it began I would not be able to make it stop and I would not have any sort of safe word or escape clause. He told me that I was placing my fate in Annette’s hands because she would be the guarantor that I did not suffer any lasting damage or anything too far beyond my ability to endure. He said I had to accept that I would not like what was to be inflicted upon me but it was a question of whether I trusted my best friend to judge what I could bear.

Now it was my turn to look at the floor. My own nature sealed my fate because I was very scared but that dark part of me wanted to experience this and if I refused now the opportunity would be lost.

“What do you want me to do?”

He stood up and the three of us went into the large conservatory where he drew the white blinds leaving us still in daylight because the roof was clear glass.

“I think you had better undress Julie.”

There was a huge lump in my throat as I stood there. I was not sure that I could do this but I felt that I now had no escape so I dragged my white t shirt Maltepe Escort up over my head feeling VERY exposed in my little white bra. I looked up at him but I knew he would not let me stop there. I was facing a big dilemma over what to take off next but I kicked off my trainers and then began to unfasten my jeans. I slid them down and felt very awkward and ungainly as I hopped from foot to foot and the jeans ended up inside out on the carpeted floor. Then I shed my lemon ankle socks leaving myself in white bra and washed out pink bikini briefs. Surely that was far enough but now my friend turned on me and it was Annette who told me to take off my bra. I am very sensitive about my little boobs and no woman likes having to bear her breasts to a strange man. Yes I know about topless bathing but in those locations it is somehow OK; in this conservatory it most definitely was not OK and any woman would feel as I did. From the moment that our breasts appear we are taught that they are private and it was very difficult to reach behind and unfasten the clasp then shed the brief garment onto the floor. My arms hung at my sides; I somehow knew that covering myself with my arms would not be permitted.

He had raised the lid of one of the bench seats which lined one wall but I was not close enough to see within. I did see the length of clothes line which he had in his hands as he approached me.

I just stood there like a manikin as I felt him loop the rope around my naked breasts and then pull it behind my back. His hands felt very hot as they brushed my skin. He dragged my arms up behind me so that my elbows were bent and my wrists were very securely tied just below my neck. The same rope which secured my wrists was looped around my poor boobs in a sort of slip knot so trying to move my hands caused the ropes around my boobs to tighten painfully. But he was still not finished; he began to tie rope around my arms and loop it around my body just below my boobs so that I was forced to keep my arms flat against my body.

“Your knickers can stay on for now. Get on the floor.”

I had not missed those words “for now” but my more immediate problem was how to get myself down on the floor with my arms so tightly (and painfully) bound. Annette very sharply told me to get on with it and I, very carefully, lowered myself to my knees and then paused as I contemplated my next move. I realised that all I could do was the throw myself sideways and fall onto the carpet so that is what I did landing heavily on my side and then automatically pitching onto my belly with my tender nipples hitting the carpet and remaining like that with my weight pushing all those nerve endings against the rough fibre. My face was about two inches above the carpet and my nostrils were full of the dusty smell.

He knelt beside me and lost no time in continuing my binding. He secured my ankles then roped my thighs together and dragged my feet up behind me causing me to cry out. That cry cost me a sharp slap on my pantie covered left buttock. Several knots secured my feet to the rope around my upper thigh then he settled back to watch the neat parcel of immobile Julie. I could not help struggling which caused various grunts and groans to escape my lips but I found that I could not move at all without being able to move a limb to alter my centre of balance. All I could do was to flex and unflex my muscles but nothing actually moved. He had moved out of my eyeline presumably to visit that open bench seat and now he was kneeling in front of my face holding a long white scarf. I shook my head vigorously and begged him not to put anything in my mouth.

“A girl is not fully bound while she can still speak. If she can speak she can argue and bargain so her helplessness is not complete. But if she is well gagged she becomes a mere thing with no power at all.”

As he spoke he wound the scarf tightly around my head trapping my hair and filling my mouth with two thicknesses of the material. My mouth was forced wide open and I felt saliva running down my chin. Then, to my horror, I saw him move around the conservatory opening the blinds. The structure had opaque walls to about three feet off the floor and I was laying flat on the floor just below the windows but I felt very exposed with all that glass around me. Anyone in the back garden could see my helpless nakedness although no-one was actually there at present.

My captor was speaking again.

“You are not chained so you should be able to work the knots loose and free yourself. We are going to leave you for a while to see how soon you can escape and I advise you to work very hard at the task because if you are still bound when we return there will be a severe penalty.”

And then I was alone with Annette’s evil laughter ringing in my ears. Every muscle already ached from the effort of pulling against the unyielding rope and I stretched my fingers to their maximum extent but I soon found that not a single Kartal Escort knot had been left where I could even touch it. My lower face felt uncomfortably wet and I knew that I would soon develop ugly red cold sores like a dribbly toddler. Even the very slight movements which I could make caused the rough carpet to burn my unprotected skin and I had put my head on one side so my cheek was in contact with the carpet.

My nipples were very painful and I was afraid of the blood flow to my breasts being cut off by the ever tightening bindings around them. I was panting into my soaking gag and, as my body rocked, my pubis was being ground against the carpet causing very frustrating tension in all the nerves in that delicate area. I was certain that I could now smell the reek of aroused girl and I did not relish Annette’s dad returning and smelling that. Much of my discomfort may have been eased if I could just lie still but I did not dare to do that. I had to free myself before they returned or I did not like to think what torments they may heap upon me as a punishment for failure.

My mood was not improved when I heard the unmistakable shutting of the front door and then the sound of a car starting up and then pulling away. Surely he had left Annette in the house. They would not both go out and leave me here like this. But, strain my ears as I might, all I could hear was the silence of an empty house. How long had I been here? How long would they leave me?

I had to get free but nothing I did had any effect at all. I theorised that perhaps there was one particular rope which was the key and would pull the rest loose but no matter how I struggled nothing seemed to loosen a fraction of an inch. Almost every move transmitted itself up my body to my aching arms behind me and the slightest movement of my arms squeezed my poor boobs. To make it worse my nose was running onto the carpet, I had snot on my face and I could feel hot tears in my eyes. I HAD to get free. I was becoming increasingly desperate but also increasingly discouraged as I came to the realisation that they had lied to me. He had deliberately bound me so that I could not free myself but he had misled me to ensure that I engaged in the fruitless painful struggle to multiply my discomfort. And yet even that piece of reasoning did not help me because I could not know that it was correct. Perhaps there really was a way out of this bondage and if I failed to find it what would he do to me?

The trouble with pulling on knots is that it just pulls them tighter so when I heard the car come back I was even more securely tied than when they had left me. I listened for the sound of the front door opening and suddenly the conservatory door opened and I felt the cool air on my exposed skin. They came in and shut the door.

Annette’s dad made some disparaging comments about my performance as an escape artist then he grabbed my body and rolled me over so that my weight was pressing down on my bound arms and my body was bent backwards with my boobs very prominent. I tensed as he produced a pen knife and brought it towards my boobs; he pushed the cold blade between flesh and ropes and began to saw at the rope. No man can understand the effect of having a sharp blade near to a woman’s breasts; try to imagine how you would feel having a knife against your balls.

The rope had dug itself deep into my soft flesh and it hurt like hell when he pulled it free. I looked in horror at the angry red wheals around my boobs. Although my wrists were no longer attached to my boobs my arms were still pinioned to my body by the rope which ran under my breasts. He had moved the knife now and was cutting the rope around my thighs then he, quite gently, pulled my legs out from underneath me so that I was lying straight with my ankles still bound. My legs had cramped and I cried out into my gag as he moved them. Then he put his hands to the sides of my knickers and I tensed again. It was obvious what he was about to do; he was going to pull my pants down and I would be totally exposed to him. He dragged the flimsy cotton down to my knees and I felt his eyes on my pubic bush, he could not have missed the very embarrassing fact that my knicks were soaking wet with girljuice. Next he began to stroke his hand through the thick, dark hair and his hand strayed down between my legs to feel my yielding fleshy lips. He could grope me as much as he wished and there was not a thing I could do about it. All that time on my belly with my mound grinding into the hard floor had left me very worked up and his skilful playing with me built me up to fever pitch. I could not keep my hips from bucking about or the shouts and moans from escaping my lips. I was performing for him like a bitch on heat or like some cheap lap dancer but I was totally unable to control my own responses.

He ceased his groping, leaving me in terrible frustration, and raised my head so that he could untie the gag leaving me trying to Kurtköy Escort work my jaw to ease the pain caused by having my mouth forced open for so long. I wished I could clean my face but that was impossible. Annette had been sitting on one of the benches and she handed her mobile phone to her dad who began to give me instructions.

“You are going to phone your mum and tell her you are staying over with Annette. You have become deeply engrossed in a homework problem and don’t want to break concentration by coming home for nightwear, you can borrow a nightie from Annette. Of course I don’t need to tell you that you won’t actually be wearing anything tonight.”

He placed the phone to my face and pressed speed dial. My mum answered and I tried to sound casual as I obediently gave my message. It was not easy as he was holding the phone with one hand while his free hand had again slipped between my legs making it very difficult to keep my voice level.

Annette was obviously enjoying this and she reminded her dad that I needed to be punished for failing to free myself and even more for bringing myself off as I lay belly down on the carpet. He lifted me as if I were a doll and, with his arm around my body he took me into the lounge with my tied ankles dragging on the carpet then he sat down on the sofa with me laying over his lap. My nose was very near to the carpet and my sweat soaked hair was hanging down around my face cutting out most of my vision. I was very aware that my unprotected bum was up in the air and my arms, still pinioned up my back, were far away from the target zone so could offer no protection. I had never been spanked as a child so, at eighteen, I knew I was about to receive my first ever spanking. Just a few lengths of clothes line had reduced me to an object which he could use in any way he chose. For the first time in this ordeal the prospect of rape came into my mind. Would he go that far? Would Annette allow it? I had no idea.

My desperate pondering ended when his huge hot hand rested heavily on my left buttock commencing a short period of groping my bum. He kneaded the firm flesh with his fingers digging in painfully then his hand lifted off and my world exploded in stinging pain. My scream filled the room and I wondered if my mum could hear it two doors away. He had got into a rhythm of slapping each buttock in turn and I was wailing like a schoolgirl; once again my face was streaked with tears and snot as my legs flailed about in the air and the slaps just kept on landing as if they were being inflicted by a machine. Each time that the descending hand pushed me down onto his lap I felt the granite hard rod in his trousers, it felt huge and I knew it was my pain which was fuelling his erection.

And then he stopped and tipped me off his lap onto the floor where I lay untidily with my legs all over the place, caring nothing for modesty, and weeping. My tormentor stood up and looked down at the poised young woman who had been reduced so easily to a soggy pathetic mess. My behind felt as if it had been burned and I wanted to rub it to feel for wheals or even blood where I feared (wrongly) that he had broken the skin but of course my arms were still tightly bound.

Quite soon I cried myself out and sniffed a long trail of goo back into my nostril. I looked up at him and said quite quietly that I needed the loo. As I heard my own weepy little voice I felt about six years old to be asking this man for the loo. I looked up at him pleadingly.

I hated and feared the note of pleasure in Annette’s voice as she urged her dad to “Lock her up downstairs”. She was enjoying this so much that I was now more afraid of Annette than her dad; I know that a woman who is feeling sadistic often has a much more creative imagination than a man and of course a woman has a much better understanding of how to hurt and degrade a woman.

He lifted me up by my arms which brought a cry of pain from me and he dragged me out into the hall and down the cellar steps leaving Annette to snap on the cellar light. The cellar contained the usual boxes of junk but, as this house had been built by the same builder as our own, I had a pretty good idea of where we were going. Towards the front of the house was a low wooden door with a small barred window and he dragged me into the narrow space. The houses had been built with a coal chute against the front wall. The trap where the coal would have been dropped down had long ago been sealed but down in the cellar was the small space into which the coal would have fallen. The barred window in the door was designed to allow the householder to easily see how much coal he had in stock.

I was horror-struck as he took a matt black pair of handcuffs from his pocket and dangled them before my eyes. Then he snapped one cold, hard bracelet onto my left wrist and again brought out his pen knife to cut the ropes securing my arms and wrists. As soon as the ropes fell away he yanked my hand upwards and locked the free cuff onto a metal ring set high in the coal blackened brick wall. I was standing there with my ankles bound standing on tip toe and straining upwards to the ring to which I was now chained. I had one hand free but that was of very little use to me.

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