“Hey Nats,” I hollered.” You wanna go somewhere?”
She came running out of her bed-room; her long, red braids bouncing wildly on her back, and her wide ankle-long red, plush skirt billowing around her. She was also wearing a velvet sweater, long-sleeved and very tight, wool knee-socks and sneakers, all of them red.
“Sure,” she beamed. “What do you want me to wear?”
I pointed at the table next to me where there were three piles laid out. “I don’t know; you choose.”
“Mind telling me, where we’re going? Because if we’re going to a faraway place, I’m going to have to go for something snug, yet comfortable; but if it’s not that far, I can settle for snug.”
I looked at her, my most devilish grin plastered all over my face.
“Oh, I think you’ll find the distance adequate, all right. Now; choose, but I can tell you this much; we’re not going anywhere by car!”
She managed to produce a sound, which were both a moan, a groan and a growl at the same time, put her hand out and took out a leather roll, which had straps attached to it, which she put in her mouth and buckled behind her head. From the next pile, she took out a piece of rope, and from the third a pair of metal-studded leather ankle-cuffs.
Turning around, she crossed her wrists behind her back (her favourite position) and I folded the rope in half, before winding it around them in a figure of eight, and tying it off snugly between her hands and her body, so she couldn’t get at the knots. After having put the ankle-cuffs on I opened the door, and we went out.
Her eyes went wide, when I took her to the bus-stop, and she gave me the mother of all “evil eyes” as we went on board.
“Remember I told you we’re not going anywhere by car? Well, we are by bus!” I said.
Two hours, and two bus-changes later, we got off at an address she knew all too well, although she had never been there, and I had to almost drag her to the front door and ring the bell.
We had come to the home of her head-teacher, Ms. Ingalls, who also happened to be my (current) girl-friend.
At this point in the story, an explanation is called for, I think. You see; she insists on being restrained in some way when we go somewhere, but I always release her just before we get there. It is kind of a quiet understanding between us: she picks the restraints she wants to wear, but I don’t want anyone to see her wearing them, so that was why the trip and the end of it was such a shock for her.
“Nathalie? Charles? I’ve been waiting for you. Please; come in!” she beamed, seemingly not at all bothered by the fact Nathalie was so securely gagged, tied and cuffed.
She showed us into her living-room, where she had put a high-backed, wooden chair. She told Nats to sit down in it, produced a long piece of rope and tied her waist securely to it.
“Well now; that’s you comfortable.” she said. Then she noticed the looks Nats gave me, and said: “Oh, don’t be mad at him, dear. I’ve known for a long time you want him to tie you when you go out. In fact, that was one of the first things he told me, even before we realized I was your head-teacher!”
“Well, yes;” I said, clearing my throat, “I wanted to know how you would react to such a thing. And I must say I was the one who was surprised when you said your father had done the same thing to you, when you were her age!”
“Yes, he did; but I’m not sure I would have allowed him to drag me across town, in full view of everyone!” Ms. Ingalls laughed.
“And I’m sure Nats wouldn’t have either, had she known we were coming here, And by public transport, at that!” I commented and she shook her head fiercely.
We spent a nice couple of hours there, and I gave Nats sips of water to drink, now and then, when she indicated she needed them.
When we left, Laura, aka Ms. Ingalls, said to Nats: “Please; do come again, whether tied or not! It’ll be our little secret!”