Athy's Friend Is Tied in Nots

For weeks I've been locked into a story that refused to flow so a few days ago I began this one in an entirely different setting in the hope of overcoming the blockage. I have declined the opportunity to use an editor so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Remember, this is fiction. All characters came directly from my imagination. I hope you like it.

Kathy's friend is tied in knots

Rarely will anyone agree that being banged up as the result of a motorcycle accident is a good thing, but in my wife's case, that's exactly what happened. Internal injuries and a broken pelvis needed urgent surgery. When surgeons sorted through her mutilated intestines they discovered a growth the size of a tennis ball on her uterus. If left untreated, her life expectancy would be counted in months, yet she was asymptomatic and totally unaware.

The medical team decided it was better for her to be childless than lifeless so they removed her uterus while they put her battered body back together. So you see, she literally owes her life to the idiot who claimed he did not see her on her motor cycle.

She eventually made a full recovery, but extensive scarring makes her very sensitive about wearing a bikini.

We were in love before the accident and while she was in recovery I proposed. We've been married for six years now and we are a perfect fit. I'm not saying that we don't have the occasional disagreement; every married couple does but we never go to sleep angry with each other. Our sex life is still as creative as ever. We both like to experiment and there's very little that we haven't tried, though some of those activities will definitely never be repeated.

Our only regret was the knowledge that our love would never grant us any children.

As we recovered following a vigorous round of sex one night, Kathy snuggled in close and asked me if I remembered her colleague Sharon from the last company Christmas party.

"You mean the shy little girl with the asshole husband who kept interrupting her each time she tried to say something?"

"That's the one," she giggled.

"So, what gives?"

"We were having a quiet chat in the canteen yesterday and she let slip that she and her husband are into Japanese rope tying called Shibari. Her husband ties her up regularly and she says she loves the feeling of giving him control of her body. Sounds weird, but I wonder what it's really like?"

I confessed that I had seen video clips of Shibari and its somewhat harsher code, Kinbaku, but had never seen it in real life.

"Would you like to try it one day?" I ventured.

"I'm not sure. It might be fun but it might also be scary. I know you would never hurt me or take advantage but I would never contemplate letting anyone else restrict me like that."

We let the conversation die in our post-coital bliss and fell asleep but the comment started me thinking about the possibilities and the next day I bought a couple of coils of soft rope from the local hardware store. I then searched through the internet looking for "how to" videos. Almost immediately I realized that the rope I'd purchased was probably unsuitable, but it did at least allow me to practice the basic ties and knots and learn about the incredibly wide possibilities of restraining a person in rope. Just watching the videos was an arousing experience.

A few days later, having practised diligently by using my own legs or a bedpost as props, I felt ready to test the water with Kathy.

"Remember our conversation about Sharon?" I asked innocently.

Kathy was wise to my intent immediately.

"Oh you've decided you would like to tie me up have you?" she winked coquettishly.

"Well, I'm nowhere near ready to do a proper tie, but I bought some rope the other day and I know some of the basic knots, so yes, I would like to tie you and see where it leads."

Taking me completely by surprise, she jumped at the opportunity.

"It took you long enough," she teased. "I thought you would want to try it as soon as I mentioned it."

After uncoiling my hardware store rope, I sat Kathy on the edge of the bed and gently drew her arms behind her until her hands were neatly tucked into each elbow. Using my internet based knowledge, I confidently wrapped the rope around Kathy's wrists twice and made a perfect knot to secure them. I was now venturing into unknown territory, drawing the rope around her upper arm, around the front above her breasts and back to where I began, locking the excess rope off.

Feeling rather smug at this point, I tried to put some tension on the rope and discovered why synthetic rope from a hardware store is useless for Shibari. Not only did the rope stretch, it was far too bulky to make a tidy knot and was so slippery that it could never be considered secure. Still, the experiment was a qualified success. The knots and wraps had worked as they did in the instruction videos and both of us were excited by the possibilities.

We sat together in the study a short time later while I located a specialist supplier of jute rope specifically produced for the purpose and placed an order. We decided to wait for the delivery before trying again.

Kathy was wildly excited when I returned from work a few days later. Our rope had arrived and she had not only unpacked it, but coiled it into individual lengths ready for use as she had seen on my tutorial videos. Clever girl!

We decided to try our new purchase before dinner, so I sat Kathy on a bar stool in the kitchen and very soon had secured her in a chest box tie, with both arms neatly tied behind her and her breasts thrust nicely outward with double layers of rope above and below.

"How does that feel?" I asked tentatively.

"It's quite firm. I can't move my arms and my tits feel tight as a drum. All I can do to protect myself now is to lash out with my feet -- not that I want to lash out because I don't really need protection, do I?"

"Let's see now."

Grasping her head firmly in both hands, I pulled her into a deep, soulful kiss. My spirits soared as she moaned softly in response.

"No fair," she gasped as I released her. "I can't hold you at all. I really am quite helpless like this, aren't I? What are you going to do to me now?"

"Let's see," I smiled, steadying her upper body with an arm around her. With my free hand I teased her nipples, bringing another soft moan from her lips. "If you weren't fully dressed, I could see lots of possibilities."

"I can't wait." She giggled. "Oh but first, we have to eat."

Reluctantly I released Kathy from her confinement, kissed her deeply and left her to finish the meal. The night ahead was going to be interesting!

Much later, with Kathy dressed in frilly panties and one of my business shirts, we played around with rope while seated on the soft, carpeted floor of our bedroom. It was fun, allowing me to tie her as before, but with the added benefit of being able to unbutton the shirt to expose her breasts, just as we had seen in many videos. Of course our session finished with several hours of mind-blowing sex.

We experimented regularly from there. I took on the technical challenge of tying by watching hours and hours of some of the best exponents of Shibari and Kinbaku, trialling their technique on my ever-willing and enthusiastic wife. Kathy loved the feeling of placing her body totally in my control. She cried out occasionally when an errant knot was too tight, or a limb was pulled too far out of its normal position, but never complained, never said no and never used the safe word we agreed on.

We fixed two solid eye bolts to the ceiling of our living room (and used them to hang flowerpots to avoid comment from visitors) and slowly started experimenting with suspensions. I think Kathy surprised herself with her flexibility and increasing levels of commitment. She began by asking me to take advantage of her restraints by using her in any way I wanted, which progressed to strident demands for me to be more forceful. We had reached the stage where I could hold her in rope for two hours or more, and she was able to take single leg suspensions, with her free leg either folded against her thigh or stretched out towards the floor. Both options opened her up to all sorts of possibilities. We tried soft kissing at first (I love going down on Kathy) and progressed to hot wax being dripped into her vagina and also soft striking with one of my belts or a flogger which she purchased from a downtown sex aids shop. Every session finished with wild sex. Our rope play became foreplay. I have to confess though, that I was very nervous about striking Kathy, even when she demanded I do so. A lifetime of believing that a man should not hit a woman will do that to you.

Coming home one day, I noticed a strange car in the driveway, blocking my entrance to the garage. Leaving my car in the street, I hurried inside, to find Kathy seated in the lounge room, her arm around a sobbing female who I recognized as Sharon, her friend from work.

There was good reason for taking time to make the identification. Sharon's face was a mess. One eye was black and swollen so badly that it was completely shut, a long gash seared one side of her face and her nose had bled all over her dress. She sobbed uncontrollably while Kathy continued to try calming her down.

"Her asshole husband did this," Kathy fumed. "He accused her of having a boyfriend on the side, tied her and then did this while she was unable to move. He untied her an hour ago and she panicked, ran out of the house and came straight here."

"Is it likely that he followed her?" I asked.

Sharon nodded feebly.

Considering how he might react, I thought it wise to avoid advertising her presence in our house, asked for her car keys and promptly drove her car into our garage and rolled down the door to hide it from sight. Mine was moved to spend the night in the driveway.

Returning to the women, I coaxed Sharon into exposing her face to examine the extent of the damage. Her nose bled but did not appear to be broken. The badly swollen eye was a worry, but after gently feeling around the socket, all the bone seemed intact. The scratch on her face should heal if properly treated so we rounded up the first aid kit, applied liberal amounts of antiseptic, placed an ice pack on the eye and led the poor girl to our spare room, where Kathy helped her into one of her pyjama sets and put her to bed.

Kathy and I talked for hours. Apparently this was not the first time that Sharon's asshole husband had roughed her up with baseless allegations of infidelity, but this was by far the worst. Their previous joy in rope play changed as Sharon became increasingly fearful of what might set him off while she was at his mercy in a controlling tie. We vowed to discuss her options with her after a good night's sleep. All three of us called in for sick leave the following morning to consider Sharon's options.

Over breakfast, she was already starting to look a little better. Her bruised eye was partially open. The eye itself was bloodshot but she was able to see clearly. She had spent a long time in the shower and her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Dressed in Kathy's jeans and a tee shirt, she looked more like a teenager than a housewife.

Any suggestion to return to her husband was immediately and firmly shut down.

"Not this time!" Sharon exclaimed. "I am going to do what I should have done two years ago -- file for divorce."

"Let's not be too hasty," I tried to counsel. "You need some time to re-group before taking action you might regret later."

"Hasty?" she shouted at me. "For more than two years I've put up with this shit. He has hurt me in more ways than you can possibly imagine and usually in places where it doesn't show. LOOK!"

She peeled down her jeans some to expose her right hip. It was black and blue from extensive bruising. A long scar ran from her waist to the middle of her buttock.

"This is just some of the nice little things he's tried over the years. He's cut me, whipped me, burned me and even branded me. Yesterday was the last straw. I am not going back and I'm filing for divorce. I want him out of my life forever. I don't know where to go for now, but I'm not going back to the house."

Kathy is great with high stress situations. She shushed Sharon softly and assured her that she could stay in our spare room until she was ready to strike out on her own, mouthing to me "Okay?" I nodded my approval.

Later that morning I drove Sharon to her house to collect some of her belongings, hoping that her husband would be at work. Our luck held. He was nowhere to be seen and we quickly scooped up her collection of shoes and the clothes she had hanging in her wardrobe.

"Anything else you want?"

"He's welcome to what's left. The furniture is all rubbish anyway."

She saw me looking at the St Andrews cross bolted to the wall in the living room and shrugged.

"At first I loved being strapped to that thing," she mused. "For the past year or two I've been scared stiff every time he forced me onto it. I mean it's hard to explain. I crave pain. I love being pushed beyond my usual limits. I love the feeling of not having any control over what happens to me. But when playtime simply becomes his sadistic pleasure though, driven by anger and a lack of control on his part, there is no joy, only pain. You have no idea what I'm talking about, have you?"

For the first time, the hint of a smile appeared on her battered face, so I felt more at ease in confessing.

"Actually I have a better idea than you might imagine, Sharon. Kathy came home one day to tell me about your rope fetish. Since that day, we have been quietly experimenting with rope ourselves, though without devices designed to hold a body still for punishment. Our rope experience has allowed Kathy to let herself go and give in to whatever might take my fancy, knowing that she has no control over what I might do to her. In a loving environment, she knows I would never hurt her in anger. The pain she endures in rope is always consensual. She has a safe word and has never felt the need to use it. I push her way out of her comfort zone at times, but she always comes back for more."

When I looked back at Sharon, I noticed a tear slowly falling down her cheek.

"That's how I always dreamed it would be with us," she whispered wistfully. "It never was though. His sadistic streak was there right from the start and got worse when her realised he could get away with it."

We returned to our home in silence, welcoming Kathy's offer to help carry Sharon's meagre belongings inside.

She had been busy in our absence, collecting contact details of two reliable divorce specialists for Sharon to contact.

Our concerns about any possible action by the asshole were quickly dispersed. He made no effort to find his wife that she knew of and when he was served with divorce papers several days later, returned the signed copies to her lawyer's office almost immediately. Like most bullies, he dived for cover when his misdemeanors were made public and seemingly disappeared.

At home we settled into an easy and comfortable existence. Sharon was no problem, shared in the housework, insisted on paying Kathy some money each week to cover her expenses and turned out to be an exceptionally good cook.

Our rope activities at home stopped. The hooks in the living room remained exclusively for the support of our hanging planters.

In the privacy of our bedroom, we decided to try some floor rope. Before long, I had Kathy in a tight hogtie. Using the corner posts of our bed, I used some extra rope to forcibly separate her knees, leaving her naked, spread wide open and very, very aroused. I reached beneath her to pinch her nipples, bringing a little token squeal of protest. Her pussy was dripping, begging for attention. When I penetrated her with first two fingers and then three, she tried to grind against me to force my hand in deeper. As I pushed, she became progressively more vocal until finally exploding in a violent orgasm. My cock was so hard I thought it would break.

Quickly releasing the leg ropes and the ropes securing her ankles to her shoulders but leaving her arms secured, I grabbed her hips and drew her to her knees, her head buried on the carpeted floor. Without ceremony I plunged into her, balls deep, in a single hard thrust, eliciting a cry of joyous surprise. I would like to say that we fucked for hours, but I had been in such a high state of arousal for so long that I climaxed in minutes. Afterwards, we cuddled each other and kissed, relaxing in the glow of our coupling.

Kathy nearly feinted at the breakfast table next morning, when Sharon said innocently:

"You two sounded like you had fun last night."

Kathy blushed furiously and started to stammer an apology.

"For goodness sake Kathy, stop it! This is your house. You should feel free to do what you want, when you want, without having to worry about other people. Besides, it was fun trying to visualize what you were up to. I wish I could have been there with you."

She stopped suddenly, embarrassed at the reality of what she just said. "I shouldn't have said that," she blushed.

I kept my eyes down, focused on the bacon and eggs on my plate, desperately trying to avoid being dragged into this conversation. Kathy said nothing and an awkward silence settled over the breakfast table.

Finishing my breakfast, I scooped up my briefcase and giving both ladies a quick peck on the cheek, scurried out of the house and off to the sanctuary of the office.

When I returned home in the evening, Sharon brushed by me on her way out.

"Just heading to the store," she smiled at me. "I shouldn't be gone long."

The shy, mousy girl I met at the Christmas party a couple of years ago was starting to emerge as a delightful, funny and caring human being. Slowly her dowdy wardrobe was being replaced by trendy fashion clothing and heels replaced flat pumps. I wished her well and continued inside.

Less than ten seconds after closing the front door, I realized that the timing of her departure was no accident. The dining table was set for dinner, the smells emanating from the kitchen were mouth watering and Kathy emerged wearing a slinky little black dress, obviously without a bra beneath. I wondered whether she was wearing panties.

"Hi Honey," she purred as she drew me into her ample breasts. "While we're alone we need to discuss a few things."

Knowing I'd been set up, I dumped my briefcase in my home office and returning to the living room, slumped into my favourite TV chair and waited.

"While we've been having fun in the bedroom, we have been neglecting our house guest completely," she began cautiously.

"You're not seriously thinking about inviting her into our room, I hope."

"Of course not, Doofus. Sharon probably doesn't want sex with you anyway. But we both know that it was her submissive personality which led her to endure her awful marriage for so long. She needs guidance. She needs someone dominant to tell her what to do. She has a desperate need to let somebody to take control of her. And that someone Doofus, is going to be you."

"Not likely," I countered. "I am not the girl's guardian, counsellor or husband and I won't be signing up as her disciplinarian, either. We made vows when we married and I thought we both took them seriously."

Poor Kathy withered under my outburst and back-pedalled hastily, tears forming.

"I think you may have misunderstood me Honey. I'm not suggesting we have sex with Sharon. She's spent a lifetime letting others control her life and frankly, I think she gets off on ceding control to her boss, her lover or perhaps even a random stranger. You've seen how eagerly she jumps at the chance to help around the house. We only have to suggest that something needs doing before she jumps into action. What she is pleading for is the physical restraint she has depended on for so many years. She wants you to tie her, like you do me."