racquetball bet

Postby donatello » Sat Nov 14, 2009 10:10 am

This happened when I was living with two friends of mine in my early twenties. We were all university students at a local state college, and we had been friends in High School as well. My two friends/roommates are Zach and Matt. Zach is the more out-going and confident of the three of us. He’s pretty funny and likes to joke around, preferably at someone else’s expense. He’s a year older than me, a little shorter than me, about 5’9, and not skinny but not chubby either. Matt is shy and a year younger than me. Yeah, kind of funny how three kids each a year apart managed to hang out a lot in High School, but that’s the way it happened. Anyway, Matt is the cutest kid – dark hair, blue eyes, 5’10 and way skinny. Not skin and bones skinny, but pretty darn thin. It just adds to his style as a sensitive, fragile guy. The girls can’t get enough of him, by the way. But it also means Zach likes to use his sense of playful humor on him fairly frequently. Matt has always taken it in stride, however, and we all know there’re no hard feelings between us.
This story, however, is about a time Zach let his practical joke side go to town on me. We play racquetball regularly on the weekends when we both have time off, and we usually split our games evenly. I’m 5’10, pretty lean and can get around the court. Zach has some wicked shots and is persistent, so it makes for a good matchup. This past week, the apartment had been getting pretty filthy, and since it’s always me and Matt (mostly me) who cleans everything, all the time, I had been giving Zach a hard time about it. Finally, he said, “Alright, if you beat me in racquetball this Friday night, I’ll clean the whole house by myself on Saturday. I could hardly believe what I was hearing, so I accepted.
“But if you lose…” Zach grinned at me that made it clear he had something mischievous in mind.
“What if I lose?” I taunted back.
“If you lose, I get to tie you up in your underwear and you have to be my bitch until I feel like untying you.”
Now, as long-time friends and roommates, we each knew a fair amount about each other, and it had come out on a couple of occasions that I had something of a fetish for bondage. In fact, I had never been tied up before in my whole life, but I had always wanted to be. On a couple late nights when we were sitting up talking out everything and nothing (you know how those go, you say stuff you wouldn’t normally feel comfortable saying) I mentioned how I loved the idea of being tied up and had always wanted to experience it. I didn’t feel like our relationship was one that would allow me to ask them to tie me up, though. Not that we weren’t close, because we were. But it would just be awkward. Part of the fun is that the idea to tie up someone has to come from the captor. If the captive asks to be tied up, it’s just different. At least, that’s the way I felt. So while I had mentioned that I wanted to be tied up, nothing else had happened as a result. Until now, that is.
I was taken aback at his challenge. Simultaneously I knew that those were steep odds, (somehow, doing your part and cleaning the house for once and having to strip to your underwear and be your roommates captive until he felt like releasing you seemed a little uneven) but wanted to try it out. The curiosity to finally experience bondage and the desire to have the house clean both weighed in to overcome my rationality, and I accepted.
On our way to the club, and while we changed into our athletic clothes, we joked back and forth, me laughing about how I would sit and watch him clean the house, not lifting a finger to help, and he telling me all the things he would do to me while I was helpless and at his mercy. Needless to say, it made the game a little more intense than usual.
We played best out of five games, and Zach took the first. Being the competitive guy I am, I came back and took game two. I have always had a chip on my shoulder about sports because I’m not very strong or big, and haven’t been very athletically oriented in my life. Mostly, I’m a nerd, let’s be honest. But I’m not physically incompetent, and I like to prove it when I play racquetball, which is my sport, as I see it. So I went in to game three pretty confident. Only to see my lead drain away when Zach put on his best shots and frankly got damn lucky several times.
Down two games to one, Zach started to get cocky. “Do you want to strip to your underwear now? I might be gentler if you do.”
I tried to make a show of confidence, so I sneered and said, “I’ll laugh when you’re scrubbing the toilets.” Zach burst out laughing. He laughs at a lot of things. He’s a pretty fun-loving guy. But at the moment, I just wanted to beat him.
The next game started poorly. I was quickly behind, and was frankly getting scared I wouldn’t be able to pull it out. But then Zach made a couple errors, and I pounced. Coming withing one point of winning, however, I made a couple of the same errors. Flustered, I tried desperately to get my head back in the game, but Zach had the momentum and a couple of perfect shots later, it was over. I had lost three games to one.
After the point was over, I leaned against the court wall, struggling to catch my breath. I didn’t dare meet Zach’s eyes; I didn’t think I could bear his gloating right then. Up in the locker room, we showered and then sat in the steam room for a while. Almost nonstop, Zach described to me in detail exactly what was going to happen to me when we got home. It was pretty late so only the two of us were in the steam room at the time. I have to admit, sitting there naked, listening to Zach and knowing that I would have to submit to being his slave when I got home was an interesting sensation. It was almost exhilarating, and I had to be careful not to let myself get aroused. After all, I wasn’t wearing anything.
While we changed back into our street clothes, he again suggested I save myself the effort and just put my underwear on. I gave him a ‘har har har,’ and put all my clothes on. As soon as we walked in the door to our little three bedroom house, however, he ordered me to strip. I knew what I was in for, and the more I resisted the more Zach would enjoy it – and make my life miserable. So I set my sports bag down and obediently began to remove my clothing. I pulled my shirt over my head, and as I exposed my bare chest Zach whistled. Somehow, being naked in front of Zach at the racquetball club was totally different than taking my shirt off back at our place. I tossed my shirt on the sofa and started unbuckling my belt. I unbuttoned my pants, lowered the zipper, and slid them off my narrow hips. Now I was standing in front of Zach wearing nothing by my gray bikini briefs. They’re super comfortable, but don’t cover much – and boy was I regretting wearing them now.
Zach drank in the sight with obvious pleasure, than laughed. I couldn’t really do anything but stand there, feeling naked. I was, after all, the ‘bitch.’
“Stay here,” he said. Zach went away and came back with some long black strips of what looked like rubber.
“What are those?” I asked.
“They’re your bonds,” Zach said cheerfully. “I made them from an old bike inner tube that kept going flat on me.”
“Since when have you been preparing for this?” I asked, incredulous. Zach started humming a non-descript tune, totally ignoring my question.
He told me to sit against the wall at a particular spot with my feet off to one side. He then told me to cross my wrists and wrapped a couple strips around them. The rubber was strong, and watching Zach knot it off several times I knew there was little chance I would get free. Then, he took a length of clothesline (we have a small backyard and apparently the previous renters used to dry their laundry back there) and tied it to my wrist bonds. He stood up, and pulled a chair over. I watched with trepidation and curiosity as Zach stood on the chair and ran the other end of the line over a small hook in the ceiling that must have been used to hang something. He then got down off the chair and pulled down on the rope. My arms shot above me until the rope was taut and my arms fully extended. I don’t know if any of you have been tied up this way, but it leaves you feeling very exposed, especially if you’re not wearing much.
Zach proceeded to bind my ankles and thighs above the knee just as he had my wrists. He kept looking me over and chuckling as he worked, and I have to admit I found it infuriating and humiliating. “And now for the final touch,” he announced. Zach left the room, and when he came back he was holding a black object. It was clearly made – at least partly – from the black rubber strips he had obtained from his old bike inner tube. It was basically one black strip but there was a bulge half-way down it. Before too long, I realized what he was intending.
“No, Zach. No. You never said anything about gags. I never agreed to be gagged.”
Zach smiled deviously. “Well, I don’t think it’s necessary for you to agree, do you?” And with that knelt down, placed the bulge in front of my mouth and said, “Open up.” I, of course, kept my mouth firmly shut. “Alright, we can do this the had way. Or should I say, the fun way?” I was terrified, but kept my mouth closed anyway.
Again, Zach left, and when he came back, his fist was closed around something. “Since you wouldn’t obey like a slave is supposed to, I guess I’ll just have to teach you the consequences of disobedience.” He knelt in front of me, his hands down at his sides. Then, with a sudden quick movement, Zach brought both hands up to my pecs. I realized too late what was going on, and in a second he has clamped a clothespin onto each of my nipples.
The pain was remarkable. I hadn’t heretofore realized how sensitive and tender my nipples were. I squirmed and writhed; all I could think of was getting relief from the biting pain at the ends of my nipples.
“Ah! Oww! Oww! Ahh! Oh, that hurts!” Zach stood back and observed the spectacle. “Ow! Take them off! Take them off!”
“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet, so I’ll leave you there to enjoy that sensation a little.” He walked off to his computer and started browsing the internet, leaving me wriggling helplessly in pain. After what seemed like forever (it was probably like five minutes or so) my asking him to remove the clothespins had become pathetic begging. Satisfied at my submission, he got up and came over to me again.
“Open your mouth,” he said holding the gag up to my lips again. This time, I obediently opened my mouth wide and he shoved the mass of rubber in. using the ends of the long piece, he tied it behind my head, holding the gag in place. Then he removed the clothespins.
When they came off I grunted in pain. Of course, grunting was about all I could do at this point. “Good boy.” He patted my head with his hand, tousseling my hair like a dog. “Now sit tight for a while cause I have to write some emails.” And with that, he went back to his computer.

to be continued

Re: racquetball bet

Postby robmic » Sun Nov 15, 2009 1:39 pm

Hope he tickled the hell out of you!
bob

Re: racquetball bet

Postby Misquamicut » Sat Mar 13, 2010 11:54 am

This story is great! You are a superb writer. In your case, a thousand words can be much better than one picture.

Re: racquetball bet

Postby tiedup101 » Sun Mar 14, 2010 5:43 am

WOW! this really is a great story! Will it be continued soon?
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