## Forgiven

Post by datblygu » Fri Dec 11, 2009 10:42 am

Most of you reading this story will hopefully count yourselves blessed for being able to know that uniquely sensuous arousal experienced on tying someone up or being tied-up yourself.
If you are indeed one of these people you will also have probably come to accept your curious and harmless little fetish and be totally comfortable with it. But I would hazard a guess that most of you shrink from speaking openly about your special interests to friends and strangers alike. Not because sensual and consensual bondage is socially unacceptable but most likely because we each of us recognise that it is something of a bizarre practise in which to delight - and no-one likes to be thought of as bizarre!
How do you convey to a non-bondage lover that electric surge of coy excitement and heart-thumping arousal you feel at the merest sight of rope or scarves?
Well I certainly had never wanted my friends to know anything about my kinky interests lest they think me â€“ well, kinky. Let me introduce myself. My name is Grant.
In qualification of my sexuality let me say that I am no different to anyone else. I embarrass easily and generally shy away from talking about sex - let alone 'bondage'. Consider it then quite a breakthrough then that I was able to confess my shocking deviancies to my friend Kim during a conversation we were having one night down the pub.
Kim is a funny and vivacious local girl (i.e. local to Cardiff, South Wales) of Chinese descent whose warm and generous friendship I had been blessed with sharing for well over two years. Our relationship qualified as 'platonic' because Kim, although extremely attractive and endearing, was already in a long-term relationship (albeit tenuously) and I, myself, had recently been dating a girl. We enjoyed each others' companionship immensely whilst tacitly acknowledging the latent attraction by means of flirtatious banter about what we would like to do to each other if unattached.
My 'outing' as a bondage lover to Kim had occurred because she had taken it upon herself to counsel me over the heart-breaking failure of the promising new love-affair I had been enjoying. A very much missed aspect of said relationship was that the girl in question shared my passion for bondage, glory be! This I had felt relevant to explain to my friend and I had bravely carried it out.
Of course, Kim was neither shocked by my revelation nor bothered â€“ no-one ever is. I have more and more come to realise that such fears of potential ridicule or revulsion are groundless. But we still keep it closely hidden nonetheless.
I should explain that this whole period of my life played out over ten years ago during which time I house-shared with three wonderful people - Joanna, Charlotte and Emma - in a large, characterful old house in the very cool city of Cardiff. I had passed six wonderful months living with the girls and we had become good pals as well as house mates. But the past six weeks, however, had been less pleasant. The reason for this, I should add, was entirely down to me.
Having been hurt by the sudden ending of the previously mentioned love affair, and predictably suffering from what W B Yeats termed â€œthat monstrous thing, unrequited loveâ€, I childishly retreated into my shell â€“ or, more accurately, to my room - and ceased to communicate on any intimate level with my house mates. Rather than join them at meal times and down the pub as I had always enjoyed doing I would choose to wallow in abject misery in my sad little space only going down to the kitchen when I was sure no-one else was there. Ceasing to shout a cheerful Hello on coming in from work or seeking out my house mates' company I no longer engaged in the general bonhomie of a shared home. It was almost as if I was taking out my anger and hurt at being rejected on them. In short, I behaved like a jerk!
The girls must have been baffled by this inexplicable change in me and probably thought me the rudest, most ungrateful wretch ever encountered. And they would have been right too.
Unsurprisingly, I didn't reveal any of this bizarre behaviour to Kim!
After suffering like the fool I was I finally resolved to chuck my job and go back-packing round the world (which a little later in the same year I subsequently did). I had given notice to my house mates by means of a cowardly note left in the kitchen of my intention to leave the house at the end of April. Probably much to their relief.
Having already arranged the more complex particulars of my forthcoming trip there remained some humbler chores to attend to closer to home. This included what to do with some of my personal possessions - as I was, in effect, moving out of my home too.
Kim had generously offered to store some of my furniture whilst I was away. A lot of my precious stuff I knew I could leave with my parents, but there remained those possessions of a very personal nature i.e. a holdall containing my bondage toys and literature - that definitely needed a different home!
Now that she â€œknew I was a pervertâ€ I had joked to Kim that she could maybe store these few items as well. She had laughed at the time and said yes of course she would store them for me â€“ and furthermore that â€œyes, I was a pervert â€“ but a nice oneâ€.
Nonetheless, I had only suggested the idea as a joke and doubted I could bring myself to entrust them to her when the time came.
Anyhow, the time did come. A decision had to be made and one particular afternoon in my room during one of Kim's visits she asked if I still needed her to take â€œthe dreaded holdallâ€.
Now, in the intervening time since her offer I had come to the reluctant conclusion that I would have to ditch my bondage stuff. I mean throw it out. Although, Kim said she was OK with my kinkiness, I considered that a face-to-face encounter with the actual impedimenta of BDSM might be a different matter altogether. Not that I owned a great many toys. Enthused by my recent love affair I had quickly accumulated some quantities of soft rope, a ball gag, a posture collar and - my prized possession - an anatomical face-mask/hood made from black shiny latex which had been a big hit with my ex-lover.
That Saturday afternoon in my bedroom during a lull in our conversation, Kim made me give her the bag.
â€œAre you sure about this Kim?â€ I laughed, somehow feeling guilty about passing this gear on to her (especially when somewhere not that deep down I would have been quite interested in seeing her combined with it!). She insisted it was fine however, and I dubiously retrieved the holdall from the wardrobe.
â€œJust don't take a look at the stuff inside.â€ I strongly advised as I set the bag down by the door. But Kim, as I feared she would, wanted to look in the bag. More alarming still was the fact she wanted a peep straightaway. All I could do was sit there heart pounding as she retrieved the holdall and started to unzip it.
â€œI need to know what I will be keeping in my house Grant.â€ Kim explained in a good humoured way. I just rolled my eyes at her whilst she delved into the holdall and pulled out a couple of coils of soft rope.
â€œWow, plenty of rope then?â€ she giggled looking carefully into the depths of the holdall. I gritted my teeth for whatever she would pull out next. Her eyebrows shot up and she put her hand to her mouth.
â€œJust like â€œPulp Fictionâ€!â€ she laughed as out from the bag came the red ball gag. I smiled but did not say anything. I hoped that she had seen enough.
But no.
Horrified, I watched as she extricated a couple of long scarves and some reading material. She then hit the jackpot and pulled out the mask. Oh Boy! The mood changed a little and I held my breath.
Carefully unfolding it and holding it up to examine Kim deliberated long and hard before speaking.
â€œGrant, this is a bit...scaryâ€.
Let me explain. The mask was, in effect, a full latex hood that was not unlike a condom for the head. It was shiny and black and had the faint impression of lips and nose on the 'face' but was otherwise featureless. There were holes for eyes and nostrils only. So once the hood was on, the wearer's mouth was very tightly covered and he or she was unable to utter a sound - and had to concentrate very hard just to breathe! It was a truly fearsome sight for the uninitiated and only to be enjoyed with a most trusted lover.
Kim sat frowning at the unusual article.
â€œYou actually wear this?â€ she asked incredulously.
I reddened as I replied that yes I did and so had Emma (my â€œexâ€ - not my house mate). In fact, I went on to say, we'd had a lot of fun with it.
Increasingly ashamed now, I studied Kim furtively and tried to judge just how catastrophic a revelation this was going to be. She sat in silence still looking at the mask and passing it through her fingers. I meanwhile cast my eyes to the floor and considered that the holdall might now be staying here after all.
The moments ticked by painfully with Kim lost in thought.
Finally, she snapped back to her cheerful self, turned her eyes to me and smiling naturally said,
â€œWhy don't you put it on for me then Grant!â€
â€œUm, excuse me?â€ I spluttered.
â€œPut it on!â€ Kim urged cheerfully. â€œI'd like to see it on you.â€
â€œI don't think I should, Kim!â€ I protested still reeling from her shock request and horrified at the thought of wearing such a ridiculous thing in front of her. I blathered on further, trying to explain that the donning of such a mask was a deeply personal thing that Emma and myself had enjoyed etc., etc., and hoped to conclude the matter by declaring:
â€œI just couldn't wear it in front of you Kimâ€“ I'd feel too ridiculousâ€.
Kim was undeterred however.
â€œGo one, don't be such a wuss!â€ she chided, â€œYou must enjoy wearing it so why can't you put it on for me?â€
She cocked her head in a very charming manner, crinkled her nose and added sneakily, â€œI bet you'd like to really wouldn't you?â€
Oh Boy! She was right there. In the safe havens of my fantasies I would have jumped at the chance. But wide awake here in the mundane reality of my bedroom and with my beautiful friend seemingly mocking me it seemed a doubtful idea.
That said, my excitement was steadily increasing and, without stopping to think of what I might be leading to, a dumb suggestion burst from my mouth, probably from a little used area of my personality i.e. the one with courage:
â€œWhy don't you put it on meâ€ I ventured.
I expected Kim to recoil from this openly flirtatious suggestion but she didn't blink and just stared coolly back at me with those large black eyes of hers. Her silence was unnerving and I felt I had to qualify my statement.
â€œLook, I would feel stupid pulling this thing on over my head.â€ I kind of laughed, â€œI know you are just my friend but if you were to put it on me...I..I wouldn't feel so embarrassed don't you see? It would be out of my control.â€ I babbled. I began to fear I had made a repugnant suggestion to her.
She just continued to stare mockingly at me however.
Uncomfortable under her gaze, and wishing I had kept my mouth shut, I shakily got up to pack my shameful baubles away in their holdall â€“ and maybe repair the awkwardness I had stupidly introduced into our friendship.
Kim, however, put her hand up to stop me and said slowly and carefully:
â€œYes, I'll put it on you Grant.â€ she said with a long drawn-out sigh as if addressing a nagging child, â€œBut you are going to get tied-up too.â€
Mercy! What had I just done!
-------------------------------
â€œJust leave me do it will you!â€ Kim said firmly and with a growing hint of irritation as she unfolded various coils of rope and laid them on the floor next to the bed. My own nervousness and mounting anticipation had manifested themselves in my fussily trying to direct her in the best ways to go about tying someone up. Seeing as this foolish course of action had now been decided upon.
I sat back down on the edge of my bed and, as in a dream, watched Kim select a length of washing-line. She held it in both hands and turned to look at me.
â€œReady?â€ she asked.
I found I couldn't speak such was the pounding of my heart so I simply nodded dumbly and sat motionless as she climbed onto the bed.
â€œPut your hands behind you Gimp Boy.â€ she ordered, chuckling.
My insides seemed to flip over on hearing these words. I complied with her request not quite believing this was actually happening.
â€œDo you want to take that jumper off?â€ she enquired solicitously with respect to the throat-hugging turtleneck I was wearing (turtlenecks always held a racy fascination for me and I wear them constantly). She playfully pulled at the collar and let it snap back on my neck.
I declined her offer and let her commence her work. In previous tie-up games with lovers I had often felt it incumbent to keep up a light-hearted conversation, but on this occasion I had no breath with which to speak.
â€œI think you are going to be too hot in this jumper Grant, but on your head be it.â€ she shrugged.
Kim, firstly, pulled the sleeves of my sweater down over my hands before placing one wrist across the other. I then remember rope being looped rapidly around my sleeved wrists first one way, then the other, until, I imagine, she ran out of rope. I then felt her tie the ends off in a double knot. I hoped she had made it easy to untie!
My wrists were tied much tighter than I imagined they would be by an amateur such as Kim and I moved quickly to suppress a tingle of panic on realising I could not move my arms at all. (Why does it always come as a shock to realise that, once you are tied up, you really are tied-up?!)
There was no going back now it would seem.
â€œThere. Your wrists are done.â€ Kim said matter of factly after carrying out a couple of test tugs, â€œI think that should hold you.â€
She was right. My wrists were very securely bound and I had to compliment her on her thoroughness. I remember wishing I had taken my sweater off as I was now feeling hot. Too bad.
Kim, got down from the bed and went back to choosing ropes again.
â€œThere's a lot more rope here Grant. We may as well use it all.â€ she suggested without turning. She was soon back up on the bed behind me threading a length of rope between my upper arms and back.
â€œStop struggling!â€ she scolded. I stopped struggling. Very carefully she brought my elbows a little closer together and looped the remainder of the rope around my chest. She then fetched another two long lengths which she used to hold my bound wrists fast to my back by looping it around my waist and tying tightly at my navel.
Aware of her close proximity to me I suddenly found my voice:
â€œYou know Kim, are you sure you want to be doing this? This is not your thing is it?â€
â€œTo tell you the truth Grant I don't really know?â€ she replied without looking up. â€œYou've told me how much you like being tied-up by your girl-friends. Now I, as your girl friend, am tying you up. Just to see what it's like.â€ She turned her face up to mine up, placed a finger over her lips, gave me a slightly shy smile - then turned back to her task.
By now there was no disguising my excitement as she knelt in front of me holding a length of rope with which to tie my legs. I felt acutely embarrassed of the bulge in my trousers. Kim, if she noticed, didn't remark on it however - only shot me a few smiling glances every now and then as she worked. And she worked very efficiently indeed because my legs were pretty soon bound neatly at both ankles and knees. It was fair to say that I was no longer in control of the situation. I felt very vulnerable and slightly foolish.
Having completed her tying-up chores Kim stood back to examine me.
â€œHmm, I have got to say you do look very cute all tied-up like that.â€ she declared tenderly. â€œI can certainly see the attractionâ€. I didn't say anything and really didn't know where to look.
It was just then my heart stopped. We both heard the front door slam.
One of the girls was home and was even now pounding up the stairs to her room. It turned out to be Charlotte, the most outspoken of my house mates and who had, more than the others, reacted to my recent behaviour in a justifiably angry way. My bedroom door had remained open the whole while Kim had been hard at work (there was no reason to close it as I thought everyone was gone for the day). Holding my breath I trusted that Charlotte would not come into my room if she thought it was just me in there but then she caught Kim's instinctive reply to her shouted greeting (just great!) and, knowing Kim quite well from previous visits in happier times, came in to say hello.
With a feeling like I was falling off a tall building I sat up as sharply as I could manage in my very bound state but there was nothing I could do. In the seconds before Charlotte came in and saw me sitting there trussed up like a chicken I recall Kim turning to me with her hands clasped to her mouth â€“ her eyes wide with amused horror. She couldn't suppress her laughter however as Charlotte stood staring open mouthed at the sight of her estranged and clearly mortified house mate poised comically on the edge of his bed, yards of rope about his whole body.
No explanations were necessary.
Displaying admirable sang froid and without once mentioning the trussed-up fool sitting in their midst the two girls recovered their poise alarmingly quickly to exchange pleasantries. Pretty soon they were chatting amiably. Charlotte, who had not acknowledged me in any way whatsoever turned to look in my direction once more - but her question was directed at Kim:
â€œKim?â€ she asked casually looking me up and down, â€œDo you intend to keep Grant tied-up for any length of time?â€
â€œWell, I haven't finished with him just yetâ€, Kim responded thoughtfully and turned to contemplate her captive.
â€œAre you going to gag him?â€ Charlotte enquired whilst scooping up a stray scarf off the floor.
Kim giggled but her embarrassment had clearly evaporated.
â€œYes Charlotte, he certainly is going to be be gagged...and masked.â€ she replied looking at me pointedly.
I probably gulped at this point.
â€œMake sure you do a good job.â€ Charlotte smiled and handed Kim the scarf. â€œI'll leave you to it. But will you do me a favour and call me when you er...â€ she added delicately, â€œ...have him finished?â€
Kim said that yes she would and Charlotte left us â€“ without glancing in my direction again.
Kim broke into giggles once more but I was more restrained (forgive the pun) as that last couple of minutes had been the most awkward I had ever had to endure. Not to mention the most humiliating. And now it could never be undone. And just what the blazes was all that about giving Charlotte a shout when she had me finished?
I decided against explaining to Kim the reason why it had been particularly excruciating having Charlotte see me in that state. And, dismissing Kim's recently voiced intention of putting the mask on, I suggested rather despondently that the fun was over and it was best she untied me.
Kim laughingly informed me that she had no intention of undoing all her hard work.
â€œNow where was I?â€, she asked herself as she caught sight of the mask. â€œOh yes. Let's get this thing on you?â€
She was holding the mask up but clearly had not a clue as to how to apply it. I sympathised as it had taken me a while to work out the best way. Which was, incidentally, to turn the mask inside out first. Then by placing both hands inside it - palms against the face - and aligning the nostril holes carefully with the wearer's nostrils you could push, or more accurately spread, the rest of the mask over the head - rather like applying a condom. Not that I apply many condoms to my head! Although not the most dignified of applications the mask, impossibly small and tight as it seems, will snap magically into place.
She listened politely whilst I imparted instructions but Kim had evidently heard enough from me because in a flash something passed my face and was drawn curtly over my open mouth cutting me off in mid-sentence.
â€œI think I can take it from here,â€ she whispered in my ear following it up with a gentle peck on the cheek.
I instinctively closed my mouth and lips around the thin material of the scarf and fell obediently silent as Kim secured it with a sharp tug.
With my sudden and unexpected gagging I was now ramrod hard with excitement, my heart pounding in my chest.
Kim picked up the mask, shook it out and positioned herself directly in front of me. She didn't hesitate in her next action.
My face was level with Kim's midriff and I steadied myself as she pressed the cool, pungent rubber against my face carefully locating my nostrils. Once satisfied they were lined up with the holes in the mask she started to push it back over my face and head. This part was always awkward and I had to push right back hard against her as she fought to get the impossibly small hood over my large head. Then, all of a sudden, the over-tensed rubber found a comfortably constricting position around my head, face and neck and I found myself looking out through two dismally small peep holes at my friend. My faculties were immediately impaired by the heavy tightness of the hood and I could hear the swish-swash of blood rushing through. I felt unreal. And more than a little foolish but also immensely turned-on and, as always in bondage games, a peaceful serenity imbued me.
Kim smiled in a kind of wondrous satisfaction at the transformation she had herself wrought upon me. Rendered mute, expressionless and docile by the all enveloping rubber I probably appeared no more human than a trussed-up mannequin dummy dressed in casual clothes with a head made from shiny black plastic. A mannequin with facial features vaguely resembling yours truly.
The mask, as I say, was incredibly tight and although I could move my lips (with difficulty) it was impossible to make a sound through them as no air could escape the airtight latex. The only sound allowed out was a weak nasal mewing. It was as effective a gag as I could ever imagine.
â€œMmmmmm...mmm.â€ I murmured, involuntarily.
Kim remained blissfully transfixed. She did nothing but hold my head in both her hands examining me closely. I would have been almost unrecognisable beneath the thin layer of tight rubber and I recall her running her fingers over my lips and chin seemingly mesmerised by the sensuousness of the ultra smooth latex and how it clung to every contour of my face.
It wasn't as if I could say â€œWhat next, Kim?â€ nor had I any wish to be anywhere or anyone else at that moment so I simply remained sat there in a heady and bewildering cornucopia of stupidity, coyness and sexual arousal.
I was brought crashing back to earth when I heard the front door slam once more and girls' voices in the hall. The voices quickly became muted as, presumably, my other two house mates arrived home together and moved on into the kitchen. They would doubtless be filled-in on the strange developments upstairs by a gleeful Charlotte.
The noise disturbed Kim from her latex reverie and she remembered her promise to Charlotte. I started to realise what she intended doing and inwardly cursed her good nature.
â€œNNMMmmmmmmm...!!!!!â€ I laughably tried to object as Kim made for the door.
Oh No! Well, I guess I had deserved Charlotte's disdain for my recent behaviour. She probably had every right to see me humbled further. I hoped she would take a quick look at my pathetic condition and then be satisfied.
Instead of just Charlotte however, there seemed to be a herd of buffalo coming up the stairs and, before I knew what was happening, into my room walked Charlotte followed by a goggle-eyed Joanna and Emma. This was total and outrageous humiliation. I closed my eyes in an attempt to block it out. I was suddenly no longer enjoying myself.
They all greeted me politely enough - like I wasn't sat there before them in heavy and bizarre bondage.
I felt lurches on the bed on either side. I opened my eyes slightly to note that Joanna and Emma had both sat down and couldn't apparently take their eyes off me. This was a sight they would not see everyday! Charlotte remained stood right in front of me. It took even her a few moments to get over Kim's handiwork. It was she who spoke first.
â€œGosh! Kim did do a great job didn't she!â€
She stepped closer so as to get a better view - evidently taking in the outline of the scarf which would have been visible underneath the shiny latex.
â€œWell Grant, we haven't seen much of you lately have we?â€ Charlotte declared stepping back to put some appropriate distance between us again.
She paused awaiting some kind of response. I looked down the whole while.
â€œWhat was that? I am sorry I didn't hear you.â€
I glanced up at her. She was angry.
I mmmmm'd as best I could something to the affirmative.
â€œThat's better. And now here you are sat quietly like a good boy ready to listen to what we have to say.â€
Somebody giggled.
Charlotte's face then became serious and the real onslaught commenced,
â€œYou know, I thought I enjoyed living with you.â€ she remonstrated. â€œI had thought we were friends â€“ and now I am not so sure. You have been a total pr*ck lately haven't you?â€
I nodded.
â€œSo. This seems like a good time for us to sort it out â€“ seeing as you are not running off anywhere,â€ - more giggles.
â€œAnd because you will have to listen to what we say for a change.â€ Charlotte added.
She then went on to explain how hurt everyone had been by my behaviour, and how I had betrayed their friendship. I had, as she said, shown myself to be immature beyond belief and just plain rude. My face burned under its latex sheath at the uncomfortable truth being forced upon me.
She was right in everything she spoke. Charlotte always was.
The other girls spoke up too. However, they were gentler saying they knew I was trying to get over Emma and that my behaviour was somehow attributable to this. They went on to explain that I should have talked to them instead of shutting them out. This, more than anything, had hurt them. I nodded my head once more. I was actually glad I could not speak as I did not have words with which to respond. I felt so wretched and low.
Charlotte wound up the unhappy interview by saying that should I choose to get back to behaving nicely then all would be forgiven and that, even though it was best I move out of the house now as planned, I would keep their friendship.
The tension eased.
â€œLook,â€ she continued, â€œI'll be fixing dinner later so, assuming you are free â€“ and have that ridiculous thing off your head - you and Kim can join us. It's up to youâ€.
All the while I had kept my head bowed choosing not to return their stares but now I couldn't help shedding tears. Someone affectionately rubbed my back and then they were gone.
I was left in silence. And my mask.
After a short while, Kim appeared before me.
â€œYou OK?â€ she asked tentatively. She had been stood nearby. I was snuffling a little because of the tears and it was affecting my breathing.
â€œI think we should let you out of that mask now.â€ she said as she turned down the high turtleneck collar of my sweater to get her fingers under the mask to pull it off.
She sat down next to me and undid the knot at the back of my neck, easing the scarf out of my mouth. I felt ashamed at what had passed. Boy! Was I a fine example of a man! But the truth of it was that this was the best thing that could have happened I suppose. I had been given the chance to atone for my recent behaviour and be forgiven. It could not have happened had I been free to engage verbally with Charlotte as I would have quickly become annoyed and argumentative.
Kim sat on the bed and chatted with me for quite some time after that. I filled her in on the situation she had overheard - although she had clearly worked it out for herself by now - and I said I was very sorry for not having told her about it before.
She affectionately put her arm around my neck and kissed me on the cheek.
â€œDon't worry about it.â€ she sighed.
I blessed her for being the person she was. And thanked her for being my friend. I also suggested â€“ perhaps reluctantly - that it was time she untied me.
Later at Dinner
One hour later we were all of us - Emma, Joanne, Kim and myself - sat around the modest dinner table in the kitchen/diner of the old house in Cardiff. Charlotte was busy fixing up a quick vegetarian curry which, despite the absence of meat, I knew from experience is actually very good. There was wine and beer on the table before us and I reflected, with a renewed sense of shame, that I had missed this civilised and friendly household ritual.
Everyone was discussing the merits of Chinese and Thai cuisine with Kim attempting to explain the regional variations in cooking in China and its relevance in Chinese society. It was very interesting and everyone had something to say. Everyone, that is, except me. I had remained silent throughout.
I was sat bolt upright in one of the high-backed dining chairs. Relaxing was not an option as my arms were drawn around the back of the chair and were still tied at the wrists. They were, in turn, secured to the cross-bar of the chair. My legs were correspondingly secured to each chair leg at both ankle and shin. The dining room was warm as it was right next to the kitchen and I had to endure the cursed sweater still. Joanna sat on my left with Emma a little over to my right. It was impossible to turn my head to talk to them however, because, in addition to my snug turtleneck sweater, my neck was now further encased by the high, tight and very strict posture collar newly liberated by Kim from the holdall. It held my head high and straight and prevented any kind of lateral movement.
I let my eyes glance down with longing at the cold beers on the table. But to drink one was not possible at this time because pulled deep into my mouth was my bright red ball-gag, the strap of which was fastened tightly at the nape of my neck.
I had given up on attempts to beg release as my friends merely laughed at my efforts, expressed sympathy for my unfortunate condition and teasingly hinted I might be released very soon if I was a good boy! They had also taken many photographs could still be sat somewhere in someone's collection. Mercy!
Kim, who had taken the table position directly opposite winked at me now and then and amused herself by playing footsie with me under the table. Except her concept of footsie was to press her stockinged foot teasingly against my crotch. I hope no-one noticed.
She had promised as she led me downstairs that I would be untied as soon as the food was ready but that, for now, I was to take my punishment like a man for keeping her out of the loop on the hitherto calamitous situation in the house.
Although "forgiven", my continuing punishment was, she said, necessary to ensure I did not succumb to such stupid behaviour again.
The veggie curry was good though - eventually.

### Re: Forgiven

Post by Scottstud94 » Sun Dec 13, 2009 8:14 pm

Very good compelling story, long but compelling. Your English and writing skills are by far some of the best I've seen on the board.
You also make very good points about how our fears of being shrouded as a freak for a love of tie-ups are "groundless", and people usually aren't bothered

### Re: Forgiven

Post by canuck100 » Mon Dec 14, 2009 4:42 pm

I agree with Scottstud94, the two stories you published so far are some of the best on this board. Hope you'll come back and share more of your experiences with us.

### Re: Forgiven

Post by datblygu » Fri Dec 25, 2009 10:43 am

That's very kind guys. Thank you. It takes a while for me to write a story - those two were based upon real events and real people. The next planned story (concerning "hidden" bondage in public places) is, alas, more fantasy.

### Re: Forgiven

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Fri Dec 25, 2009 11:56 pm

Excellent story, it's not often you find stories about bondage on these boards entwined with some real drama. I agree with the other guys, this is one of the best on the board.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

### Re: Forgiven

Post by BoundTight1 » Thu Jan 06, 2011 2:32 am

> datblygu wrote:Most of you reading this story will hopefully count yourselves blessed for being able to know that uniquely sensuous arousal experienced on tying someone up or being tied-up yourself.
> If you are indeed one of these people you will also have probably come to accept your curious and harmless little fetish and be totally comfortable with it. But I would hazard a guess that most of you shrink from speaking openly about your special interests to friends and strangers alike. Not because sensual and consensual bondage is socially unacceptable but most likely because we each of us recognise that it is something of a bizarre practise in which to delight - and no-one likes to be thought of as bizarre!.

I enjoyed your story althought quite long....
I only Shrink so to speak if I talk to someone I don't know if there into it or not but I can talk about it Openlly most of the time :/

### Re: Forgiven

Post by datblygu » Thu Jan 06, 2011 12:23 pm

Strangely, I find I can talk about it more comfortably with someone I don't know very well. It doesn't matter so much what a stranger thinks of you...