Alone, but not alone.
How could that be true?
But it was.
She pulled at her bindings with some degree of appreciated futility, knowing full well that he had used rope to constrain her rather than string, ribbon or anything that would stretch. Logically, struggle would merely exhaust her rather than achieve any discernible result. The act of petulance achieved nothing except to tire her slightly and reinforce her situation.
There was full daylight now after he had left above half an hour previously at early dawn. The half drawn curtains across the expansive wide front bedroom windows, shielded her modesty from the houses on the opposite side of the street. A slightly ajar window however allowed fresh air and the sounds of morning suburban activity to permeate into the room. Cars starting up. People leaving their front doors, kids encouraged to behave.
A hubbub of life just metres from her vulnerable nude form.
Should she call for help?
Her mouth was free to do so. The decision to not gag her had been made before he left after some extensive deliberation.
But had she reached the point of wanting to be freed? Was that an actual desire right now? As she had willingly entered into the game, shouldn't she let it play out for a bit before wanting it to be ended.
And would crying for help actually achieve anything?
Would anyone else hear her anyway? People have a habit of being wrapped up in their own lives to the exclusion of anything out of the norm.
She glanced down at her mostly naked body and considered being found in her current state. Her condition hadn't been created as an act of malice and she had been fully complicit in it at the time. Excited to do so, even. As with everything though, the mind starts to play tricks and though initially an idea seems great, the black hue of concern ebbs in. Conversely to wanting to be rescued, there was a fear of discovery.
Could she cope with that humiliation? A stranger walking in. Even worse, a neighbour. Someone who knew her. How could she cope with her predicament being made common knowledge in the street. Better to stay calm for the two hours and enjoy the experience.
The soft globes of her breasts obviously buoyant on her body, her nipples were infuriatingly on end and betraying the fact that she was actually feeling turned on rather than fearful. She smiled to herself and felt herself physically relax. There were worse things to be doing than being made to lie resting on a bed - a point that her man had mentioned before.
Beyond her magnificent chest was a flat stomach down to a shaved open pussy and into forced splayed legs. She took a moment to appreciate the effort she had put into keeping herself in shape and could understand his desire for her.
All her limbs were stretched out and still exactly how he had left her. Not uncomfortable, but unable to move due to the heavyish rope from each bed leg, up over onto the mattress and attached to the D rings on the snug but pleasant leather straps she wore on her wrists and ankles.
Rope.
For goodness sake. Rope.
Who carries rope with them?
The conversation prior to this particular adventure had been fluffy and fun and had excited her, convinced as she had been that there would be some give in her bonds. She even thought that she would slip out and just pretend she had had the experience in order to turn him on. For him to then produce fucking rope... Well, that had not been expected.
It wasn't even those ties to the bed that were worrying her so much. It was that last connection running from her.
Not from ankles or wrists.
Not even from a collar.
But from between her legs to the wall under the window.
Alone, but not alone.
He had made sure his presence was still felt even when he wasn't actually there in person.
Leaning up once more on her elbows as best as she could, she regarded his handiwork with some trepidation. Not particularly aesthetically pleasing, it had a purely functional aspect to it.
She could just about see the socket that he had used, a new connection now between the usual wall plate and the inserted plug, a soft blue light from its activation switch glowing to confirm it's status.
He had gone to lengths to explain how it worked before he had left the house, the app on his phone an easy to demonstrate on and off, meaning that anything mains run through it could be controlled from any distance.
Lamps plugged into it. Kettles. Anything!
Of course he had plugged something into it. Bastard.
Her eyes followed the wire from the socket, out of sight across the floor and then where it emerged back up on to the bed and then to the device resting against her.
Her vibe was taped to her leg.
Alone but not alone.
A constant reminder of his ingenuity.
It wasn't uncomfortable, but insulation tape had been wound around her leg and vibe multiple times to prevent the normally hand-controlled object from moving, the bulbous mushroom head seated firmly and resolutely against her clit.
It hadn't been done tightly enough around her leg to restrict circulation, though she was extremely aware of its weight on her inner thigh, and friction wouldn't move it up or down.
She could see from her rise that her lower lips were already parted in relish at what they were expecting to come, and she cursed at her own excitement, a thin cold string of moisture seeping down her inner thigh to the plastic sheeting she was lying on.
Dropping her head back on to the pillow, she closed her eyes once more and contemplated her situation.
He was only going to be gone for a couple of hours, and of that she was certain. Despite this act of imprisonment, she trusted that it was only for her excitement and nothing more. A glass of water sat on the side table, a long straw looping out of the top and within mouth reach. That in itself proved his care for her health and well being. As much as she had heard the front door close, she still wasn't actually certain that he wasn't still in the house.
Should she take a suckle now?
It was as she was rolling her head that she heard the soft click from the socket, and the heady endorphins careered almost immediately around her body as the vibe came to life.
Water forgotten, her mouth opened in the perfect O as a silent scream left her lips, the incongruity of the familiar sensations against her clit but without any control over pressure or location or duration. Head back, eyes closed, all the familiar exciting sensations but the ambiguity of no control over them.
The pressure and vibration lasted for a minute during which she felt the increased blood flow around her body, the increased heart rate for the purely physical raid on her most private of places, and the building palpitations of an impending orgasm.
This time though, her head was full of her predicament, and the complete lack of any semblance of control. Normally it would take some time to build to orgasm, but this time it felt different.
Click.
Fuck! It had been turned off.
All right, she hadn't been at the peak but she had been relaxing into the familiar journey and happy to complete it. Her mouth closed and she grimaced with some disappointment.
