A Fresh Day

Postby Games_Bond » Sun Jul 03, 2011 8:48 am

Hi folks. This is my first go at a fictional story. I am not abandoning my true stories; I am still committed to writing and finishing them. However, it seems that I will not be able to write or post on them for the next while, owing to some technical difficulties. Hence, I am embarking on some fictional fun. I start with the beginning of a story of how some distinct characters meet. If popular, they will be back for more. This story is entitled “A Fresh Day”, and I don’t think it’ll take you too long to work out why. I have not included in the heading whether it is f/m or m/f etc; again, it won’t take you too long to realise why – it changes by the chapter. Each chapter is told from the point of view of one of the characters. Enjoy.

CHAPTER ONE: Leila

In many ways, all train stations are the same. Same old shops, same old signs, same old colour scheme... Names and accents, layout and geography could all change but were all relative. I alighted onto the platform and took the first breath of air from my new home city, and still knew nothing about it. I was laden only with a fairly large suitcase (on wheels, thankfully) and a medium-sized rucksack that I was either strong enough, brave enough or foolish enough to burden just one shoulder with the weight of.
So there you go. All that waffle and all you know is that I didn’t know anything about my new home and meanwhile you don’t know anything about me. Okay, so here goes: My name is Leila. I have medium length brunette-black hair that I sometimes keep in a ponytail (as on this occasion). I have sea green eyes and a “cute” smile (my friends’ words not mine; how would I know what my smile looked like?) that comes from a small mouth. Actually, cute is a word I hear a lot. Cute, cute, cute. As in: “Aww, Leila, you look so cute!” I would get that a lot; from well-meaning friends to patronising bitches. I could take it from them – it was the boys I didn’t want to hear it from. Not because I didn’t believe they meant it; because I had to keep wondering if they all thought I was so cute, why none of them would go out with me. Surely there was a better answer than they preferred the hotter-than-hot personality voids with big heads and nothing to stop the wind passing through it? You know, the type of girl whose only mission in going to University was to marry a Doctor; not become one. So, where was I? Oh yes: I’m cute. Not just at the face; right down my curvaceous and petite eighteen year old bodice. I must confess that arriving in a new city where hardly anyone knew me did include an ulterior motive. Maybe, just maybe, I would find a guy that would find out just how cute I was. If I could somehow fit that into my pressing 1st Year University timetable, all the better.
My first order of business was to find a taxi. Well that was simple. I could read. Within two minutes of stepping from the train, I was handing my suitcase to a Cabbie who lifted the weight into the boot of his car as though he did this every day. (Scratch that; of course he did do it every day). He was one of those chatty Cabbies – the type that seemed to have a reasonable interest in who I was and what my business in the city was for someone who would never see me again. As if my destination – Student Accommodation – didn’t tell him everything he needed to know.
I was on my own after he dropped me off, however. Before I did anything, I simply took stock of my surroundings. I was in the middle of a collection of similar looking buildings, which were all here for the same purpose. Grass, the odd tree and tarmac interwove between them. The sky was blue but the air was cool. The sun was neither high nor low; it was the middle of the afternoon. My impressions were not negative. If anything looked out of place, it was possibly me. I was hundreds of miles away from home and anyone I knew. How fitting, then, that I was feeling the onset of strong urges that I often felt when I was alone.
The urge to be tied up.
I made my way into the main building and found the Accommodation desk. There was a minor delay while I waited for the guy there to find my name on a list and then find the appropriate set of keys. He then showed me on a map the best way to get to my particular building, and I would find my own way to my room from there.
It was a pleasant two minute walk through the grounds, but after that things got tougher. My floor was the second floor – two sets of staircases punctuated in the middle with a mini-landing that was nothing more than another step as the staircase changed direction. By the time I was up to my front door, there were slight pains by my elbow.
There were two keys on my key ring. The small one lets me into the building; the large one opens both the front door to my flat (shared with five other people; the guy at the Accommodation desk told me). I used the large one for the first time not exactly knowing what I expected to see.
This was how it worked. The front door of the flat opens onto an open-plan lounge with a built in kitchen off to the right. Off to the left, there is a bathroom (literally a room with a bath – and a radiator) that is for the use of all six flatmates. Across the lounge from the front door is a small hallway with three doors in each wall – each leads to a private bedroom for one of the flatmates; each with an ensuite. Mine was the first on the left.
When I entered the communal lounge for the first time, there was already someone there. She wasn’t much taller than me, but she was better built and more athletic looking. Her straight yet wispy hair easily covered her shoulders, and was three separate colours – brown, red and pink. That day she was wearing an armless blue top with matching jeans. Her arms were well toned with slender but powerful muscles. I wouldn’t have noticed them at all had it not been for the fact I was taking in my first impression. She was sitting on one of the sofas, completely relaxed, watching TV. The business with the license had clearly already been sorted. I thought I might like this girl – but then, I suppose, I had to hope so. We’d be sharing the same flat for the next year.
She had turned to face me as I hauled my stuff in through the door. She had a welcoming smile, and opened with: “Hi! Good to meet you.”
“Likewise.” I nodded, as I plonked my case down to close the door properly. “I’m Leila.”
“I’m Rosin.” She was by this time on her way over to me. “Can I give you a hand with that?” She indicated the suitcase.
“Sure. Which one is 67?”
“Er...” Rosin thought as she picked up the case effortlessly. “That would be this one.” It was the door nearest to us; first on the left in the corridor I described. I unlocked the door and she stood back to allow me to open it and enter. I stepped inside, found myself in a small walk space that led past the ensuite and headed on in to allow Rosin to follow me. The clear path to walk reached almost the other end of the room, blocked at the far end by a book case, and narrowed by an array of shelves before that. The bed was on the right as the room opened out, so was mostly hidden from view from the front door by the ensuite. At the foot of the bed, set against the right hand wall, was a wardrobe, followed by a desk at the window. I dumped the rucksack on my bed and turned to Rosin.
“Where do you want it?” she asked.
“It’s okay; I better take it.” I said, and moved it in front of the wardrobe. Now that the bags were dumped, that left the two of us to turn, face, and smile at each other.
“Do you want to join me in the lounge?” Rosin asked.
I hesitated. “Sure – er – I’ll join you in about quarter of an hour? I want to get all my stuff unpacked.”
Rosin nodded. She realised that was time when I’d want my space, and left. True to our conversation she would still be in the lounge fifteen minutes later.
I liked Rosin instantly, but unfortunately I had the overwhelming desire to be alone. I wanted, more than anything, to be tied up. I started unpacking my rucksack first. The only clothes in here were those that wouldn’t fit in my suit case. There were mainly books, writing materials, my fully-cased laptop and – where were they?
I found what I was looking for after less than a minute of rummaging. I caught hold and pulled them out. There they were in all their glory – my pink and furry handcuffs. They were one of my favourite items. I had deliberately got myself a slightly more expensive but sturdier model – there was no safety catch that was ever-so-easy to get my fingers to. There was only a keyhole; one on each cuff. There were two keys for the cuffs and only they could release me if I put them on.
The keys still had to be withdrawn from the depths of my rucksack. I playful smile played across my face as an idea for what to do to myself came to my mind. I would search for the keys whilst handcuffed. I promptly slid back the sleeves and slapped the left cuff around my left wrist. I was just about to do the same at the other side when I stopped to think. This was still too easy. My smile became more pronounced as the idea immediately came to me as to how to make it harder. I slid my left arm round behind me, then my right arm. I cuffed my wrists behind my back.
This meant I’d have to search through the rucksack for the keys without being able to see what I was looking through. I’d have to feel my way. But first, I straightened myself up on the bed and laid back. First, I wanted to feel stuck for a brief amount of time. It was only a minute or so, however, before I realised that the clock was ticking before it was time to honour my word to Rosin. So, I got up, shimmied myself around and got to work on the rucksack.
After a few minutes of groping, fumbling and pulling large objects out, I still hadn’t found the keys. This was not a problem; if anything I was getting a rush. For every second that passed by that I couldn’t lay my fingers on the keys, I was becoming more and more genuinely helpless. After about seven minutes, my excitement was reaching its peak. Just as I was allowing myself to start to worry that maybe I forgot to pack them, one of my fingers felt what I was searching for and I pulled them out.
Out of the cuffs, I spent another five minutes or so actually doing what I’d told Rosin I was doing, before I went to join her. But getting tied up was an itch that I just had to scratch; my excitement was not over for the day – I was determined of that.
I went and spoke to Rosin and we were social and got to know each other. It turned out she was local to the city, which would be very helpful for finding my feet. There was a definite chemistry between us and we liked each other immediately. We talked about the flat and other potential flatmates – apparently a guy had moved into room 68 but we hadn’t seen him; Rosin had just heard him moving in – and any topic that took our fancy. Eventually though, I decided it was time to call it an afternoon for just then and asked Rosin the time.
I wasn’t really interested in the answer; I was just using whatever time it was as an excuse to get to my next question. “Where’s the nearest hardware store?”
“Hardware store?” Rosin frowned. She seemed unfamiliar with the term, and slightly surprised I was asking. “There’s one about two miles that way.” she pointed. “The only other one is on the other side of the city. Of course, I’m not thinking of smaller places. What is it that you’re wanting to buy?”
I hesitated. The honest answer was loads of ropes, duct tape, pegs and whatever else I came across that might be useful. That was not an answer that I was going to tell to someone I’d met that day, of course. “Oh you know; just a couple of things for making the flat a bit more like home.”
Rosin shrugged. “Well, I don’t know if what I’ve said is of any help...” Eventually, after a bit more conversation, she was able to give me pretty clear directions to the place. If she was suspicious about anything, she didn’t seem to show it. She was very helpful with information on what bus to get and everything. But ultimately, I decided I wanted to walk. I’d get to see some of the place and I didn’t want to spend any money getting to the place when I might spend quite a bit once there.
The weather was a bit warmer than when I had arrived and the sky remained blue. What Rosin had not impressed on me very strongly was that the walk there was mostly uphill. By now I was dressed in a white T-shirt with a flower motif, and jogging bottoms. By the time I was half way there, the T-shirt was beginning to stick to my skin with the sweat. It really was by the time I got there.
I spent about twenty minutes in the shop in total. Rosin had sent me to a major chain that had everything. I came away with a good few metres of cotton rope, as well as a new clothes line, a few rolls of duct tape, clothes pegs, some thin garden chains, a couple of padlocks, an electric zapper, a pair of scissors, a rug, a packet of energy saving light bulbs, a screwdriver, some nails and a couple of packets of batteries. Not all of these buys were anything to do with bondage of course. There genuinely were a few practical things I was taking care of. I didn’t want to be getting any strange looks from the person at the till. The middle aged woman that served me didn’t suspect a thing.
By the time I was letting myself back into the flat, I was dripping in sweat. My T-shirt had sealed itself to my body and even the joggers were beginning to stick in places. Some of my enthusiasm for being tied up had eased in favour of taking a shower. Rosin was not in the lounge and nor was anybody else. I was glad of this. I could probably have bluffed my way past Rosin, having met her, but I wouldn’t want this to be the first any of my other flatmates saw of me. I was rather tired, but I did not see this as a bad thing. I would have enough strength to tie myself up, and then I wouldn’t have a lot of strength left to struggle against my bonds. If I could do a good job, I might be there for a long time.
I got into my flat and I locked the door behind me. This was now my private time. I dragged the bags from the store as far as the bed – no need to take them any further. Out came quantities of the rope and some of the duct tape. I removed the packaging that I needed to, and then retrieved the handcuffs and keys from the top drawer of my desk where I’d put them earlier.
I grabbed just one length of rope, wrapped it around my ankles tightly and tied a fast but effective knot. My ankles were held fast, but could easily be untied if my hands got free. That was the challenge. I took another length of rope and tied my thighs together, just as effectively as I had done my ankles. Then, I placed the keys to the handcuffs on a part of the bed where I could get to them, and cuffed myself. That done, I laid back to complete my feeling of helplessness.
It didn’t last long. It wasn’t too difficult to get my fingers to the keys, and a few moments’ fiddling later, it was all over. The handcuffs were open, and, as expert as the bindings on my legs were, it only took a minute or so to undo myself.
I sat on the bed, turning the handcuffs over in my hands. I needed to think. I needed to give myself a challenge, but not too big a challenge. Nobody knew about my love of bondage and I wanted to keep it that way. It took a couple of minutes before I came upon an answer.
I started searching. First, I needed something to be tied to. The bed was a pretty simple design. The headboard was flat and wooden, and there were no railings or anything. That was no use. I got off the bed and lifted up the mattress. Of course, there were slats. That would do nicely.
First, I stripped. I removed my sodden T-shirt and discarded it on the floor some feet away. That just left a moist bra up top, which I quickly exchanged for something lacier and pinker. The old one joined the T-shirt on the floor. I removed my joggers; they found the floor next to the T-shirt. But the socks, which came off next, didn’t. They were placed beside me on the bed. Next, I slipped off my underpants, which were overly moist with sweat and whatever. I put them with my socks. My skin was running with sweat in places but I didn’t care. It might make me more sensitive.
Then I got to work. I slipped the mattress at the bottom end of the bed off the slats, so that it was hanging over the floor. I removed the clothesline from the bag and tied it round the last slat. I then ran it up over the bottom board, so that when I slid the mattress back into place, it was still there, hanging over the bottom of the bed. I then did a similar thing at the head of the bed – except this time I used some of the rope. With the mattress back in place, I had a lot of clothesline to attach myself to at the foot of the bed, and some rope to attach myself to at the bottom. Then I took another length of rope and lashed my ankles together effectively. That done, I interwove the clothesline around that, with plenty of the line to spare. Feeling brave, I cut off a long strip of duct tape and used that to tape my knees together. I took the clothesline up and wrapped it around my waist and my breasts. By now I was managing to restrict my movement but not too much. I still had free use of my arms. I needed to; I wasn’t quite finished. I cut off more tape and wrapped it around my midriff, holding some of the clothesline in place. Then came the crotch rope. I started at the bottom before laying back to secure it round my neck, holding myself up just a little bit at the last bit, so that if I lay down completely the crotch rope would get very rough.
Next, I picked up my socks, and my underpants, and shoved them all into my mouth. I held them there with a couple of strips of duct tape and reminded myself (since nobody else was there to tell me) that now, nobody could hear me scream. Now I just needed to do my arms. That was where the rope at the head of the bed came in. I tied it around the chain of the handcuffs, which was difficult as it was behind me and so I couldn’t see it. However, it wasn’t exactly a difficult knot I was doing. Now, all I had to do was put my hands into the cuffs, close them in place and... voila! I was tied lengthwise on my bed, hardly able to move, and it wouldn’t be too easy to escape.
As the second of the cuffs clicked into place, my over-riding emotion was elation. I was so glad to have got myself into such a position. I enjoyed having a good old struggle. Once I had done that for about ten minutes, I even became quite self assured in my own ability. Surely the most difficult thing about self-bondage is doing your hands. You want to do them so that you struggle to escape, but at the end of the day you want to be able to get out by yourself. If I was tying someone else, I wouldn’t have that problem – I realised I would be very good at domination, if I ever got into it.
I had been tied up fifteen minutes before I realised something was wrong. I decided it was about time to start struggling to get the keys. They had to be beside me on the bed, but I couldn’t quite see them. A minute later, I still hadn’t found them. I started thinking backwards. They had been on the bed. I had moved the mattress... they hadn’t had they?! I sat up as far as I could (which meant an extreme tightening of the crotch rope) and yes – there they were, lying on the floor.
A wave of panic hit me; I inhaled breath I didn’t have. In so doing I sucked one of the socks closer to my windpipe. I laid back which loosened the crotch rope slightly. But I was now very scared. There was not a snowball in hell’s chance I could get within a metre of the keys. I was now tied up and helpless for real.
What an idiot I was! What was going to happen to me? I tried to calm myself down and think. I was going to be discovered. Sooner or later, I would be missed. Sooner or later, someone would have to come through that door, and when they did, my big secret would be out. They would be met with a damp damsel in distress, nude except for a racy bra, completely helpless. Oh God. What if a boy found me? A student boy? With hormones all over the place, would he be able to help himself...? I closed my eyes and told myself not to think about that. The thought had occurred to me I’d locked the door. That would mean, when someone eventually did come in, they’d probably have to get the spare set of keys from accommodation or something. I realised that it was unlikely I’d be discovered by just one person.
And when would they find me? Hours? Days? Weeks? Another wave of panic hit me. It wasn’t just getting discovered I needed to worry about; it was not being discovered. I hadn’t drunk anything since lunchtime. If I was not rescued within a few days, I would be dead. I’d have committed involuntary suicide. Yikes.
The panic spurred me into action. Okay, I couldn’t get the keys. What about the ropes? If I couldn’t get to the keys because the handcuffs were tied to the ropes which were tied to the bed, I had to break that connection somewhere – presumably untie the rope from the handcuffs. After a minute or so, I knew it was impossible. I had done it too well. I was a victim of my own success. I couldn’t untie the rope from the slat either. It was under the mattress, which was under me.
Disgust and anger at myself, combined with a real sense of fear came over me. I was still enjoying the whole tie-up aspect – in one of my darker moments I remember telling myself if this was how I was going to die, it wouldn’t be so bad. But I was still scared. From the point of realising I had no way of getting to the handcuffs, I don’t think I was ever experiencing just one emotion at any given time.
An hour later, I was much lower. The day temperature had dropped; my sweat was turning to shivers. My exposed skin was erupting in goose bumps all over. I felt the onset of hunger. It was dinner time. I was cold and alone. Well done me. I had got myself into a situation I could not get out of. The tears were coming. Within seconds they were rolling down my face. I had never felt so scared, exhilarated, alone, pathetic and drained. Everything was uncertain. There was only one thing I knew for sure. This was not going to end well for me.

Re: A Fresh Day

Postby sarumansauron » Mon Jul 04, 2011 12:25 pm

Good story! Thanks!
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

Re: A Fresh Day

Postby canuck100 » Mon Jul 04, 2011 12:54 pm

I second that. Love it so far!