Bound & Free Ch. 01

Author's vanity note: no sex for several chapters, we're trying for a slow buildup here - but they'll get there, though the road won't be smooth (when is a smooth road interesting anyhow?). It's about realizing you don't know yourself nearly as well as you thought you did. And possibly other stuff we'll figure out as we go. The first chapter is very, very slow and I'll pick up the pace but by only a little bit. This is an attempt at writing "as it comes" without polish to try to get over the fact I've never finished a story (publish and move on is my new mantra. Quantity, quantity, quality - wait no, that last one should be quantity dammit). (I've lost count of how many times I've reviewed this first chapter. Sorry, I'll do better next time.)

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She breathed through the gag, rapid little grunts completely at odds with her gorgeous, refined appearance. Her sleeveless turtleneck top was pulled taut over her chest as her hands were bound behind her with a cheap fabric belt. Her carefully sculpted blonde hair marred by a rough blindfold made from his polyester tie. Her tight, fashionable black jeans hugged her figure, her knees making scuffs in the deep layer of dust on the utility room floor. She sat there, not in the position she'd anticipated, a diamond cast into the dirt. Trembling - not scared, not quite - just off balance. And really, really confused. She could remember every single step which led to this moment, even helping to achieve it, but she couldn't believe it had actually happened. That it had been her idea. Mostly.

In this position she couldn't see, she couldn't move. To compensate, her body magnified every sound and feeling. Her back & shoulders felt the coldness of the wall she was pressed up against. She could feel each tile in the floor beneath her ass and legs, as she sat uncomfortably, her hands trapped behind her. Whenever her feet shifted she could even feel the slight resistance of the thick layer of dust on the floor, and the hidden, mysterious stains beneath.

The noises of her breathing and his movement became somehow more intimate in this tiny room. She could hear the muted bass of the party leak through the door, but her focus was this room and she could hear every little sound they both made. Her eyes could make out the tiniest bit of light leaking through underneath the makeshift blindfold he'd put on her. How had she gotten in this position? And why was she feeling so...

"I hope this is everything you expected, Stacy" a male voice said, cool indifference dripping from his tone despite the interest it implied.

Humiliating, unbearable, an insult to her pride worse than a slap in the face. It wasn't what she was expecting at all. Her heart skipped a beat for a reason she couldn't understand.

"Well? How is it, slave?"

Her mind recoiled, no longer contemplating her situation. She was no-one's slave - how dare he, this trumped-up geek?

"Mmmh!" she tried to reprimand him, forgetting about the gag.

But she couldn't speak at all, her main weapon disarmed. The slightly sulphureous taste of his wool jumper covered her tastebuds, mixed with odd mango notes from her lip gloss. She felt the scratchy fibers of the cheap material pressed deep into her mouth, the odd patches slick with oil smeared from her lips. Her saliva dampened the fibers and his jumper drew more moisture from her, as if it had a mind of its own. It was perversion of a lover's intimate kiss. Her tongue examined the invading fabric uselessly, probed its shape inside her.

She felt a surge of embarrassment as she finally understood her position. Everything suddenly became a little more real. Her heartbeat sped up as she realized she wasn't in charge any longer. It wasn't fear, not entirely - it was blended with something else. A feeling like anticipation and yet entirely different. She knew he could do anything to her right now, and she would never see it coming. It was incredibly different from anything she'd known before. Her heart skipped another beat, her nipples tingled, but before she could try to decode that, he spoke again.

"I believe you said you're mine for fifteen minutes, is that right?"

How long had it been? Had it really been her idea to drag him into this utility room? Had she really helped tie herself up? It felt like it had been both seconds and hours ago.

"Is this too much for you to handle? You're bound, speechless, confused. Didn't I explain what was about to happen? Whatever I want, you said when you propositioned me. Or if I recall your wording correctly, 'Yeah, freak, I'll let you tie me up if you have the balls to do it.'"

Stacy wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her mumble into the gag again. She felt the heat of shame rush through her a second time. She remembered exactly what she'd been expecting. On a dare, she'd chosen the most harmless wallflower and taken him into a broom closet for 15 minutes, expecting to toy with him until he came in his pants, and then mock him. It was a game she'd played dozens of times back in her high school days. Sure it was juvenile and beneath her now they were in college, but it was still fun, gently humiliating her victim - a perfect way to round off the evening and burn off her excess stress. For him, Stacy imagined it would have been a bright spot in his life, something to remember, a highlight in a dull existence dedicated pointlessly to corporate accounting or programming or whatever mind-numbing shit he was majoring in. Without a doubt, this was the one and only time he'd be as close to someone as hot as her, and a little humiliation was surely a small price for him to pay for that experience. Win-win, she'd thought. How had it come to this?

Instead, she found herself blindfolded, gagged and bound on the floor, waiting for him to touch her. The worst part, the part she couldn't get over, is that she'd let him. She'd complied every step of the way. Now she was suffering. This was demeaning, she... hated it? She was hating it, right? Stacy didn't really recognize the emotion inside her, didn't have a name for it. It must be hate though, logically. She could barely keep her thoughts in order as they ran down one track after another. She'd never felt like this before, so powerless, so out of control, her heart beating so fast. Her blush intensified, her body heated, and inexplicably she felt dampness trickle down into her panties. She... didn't like this, right? Surely that's what this was. She couldn't like this, that wasn't who she was. Sure, taking physical reactions into account people would call it arousal but...

"Didn't you promise to blow my... mind?" he taunted her.

"Fhh ooo!" Stacy spat with vitriol, rebelling against the feelings building in her body.

"Fuck me? So crude. So needy. Perhaps another time. You haven't earned it, not yet. For now... well, I wonder what I'll do to you."

She felt herself begin to sweat. Was it this hot in here a second ago? She unsuccessfully tried to glare at him from beneath the blindfold. No matter how she moved her head, Stacy could see nothing except for a maddeningly slim line of light right at the bottom, and she fixated on it. If she tilted her head like this, there was the floor. If she lifted her head back as far as she could, she could see most of the opposite wall, little by little. But both those positions were uncomfortable. She persevered for a second, trying to get a glimpse of him. Where the hell was he? She couldn't find him, and gave up, slumping back against the cold wall and sitting still. For a second everything dimmed as his body blocked the overhead light, before brightening again. So he was over here now, beside her. But she wouldn't contort herself to see him, wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Her pride wouldn't allow it. Except she'd just done that. Fuck. Embarrassment flooded through her again, her face hot.

At the edge of her vision, she could see the ball of her shoulders, locked in place, immobile. The edges of her outfit were slightly darkened with her sweat. Her skin emerged shockingly white from her sleeveless top, covered in goosebumps despite the heat. The rest of her arms were behind her, her wrists pressed between her and the wall, caught in a tight grip by his belt. The restraint had just enough give to mock her as she wiggled her ass trying to find a more forgiving sitting position. She could see a little of her own body, her torso. As she took little shallow breaths her chest rose and fell, like waves on the sea. Even through the layers of fabric hiding them, there were two conspicuous bumps, her erect nipples clearly hard enough to dent all the layers of fabric which should have been hiding them. Begging for attention. Why the hell were they... She willed them to go down but her body wasn't listening to her any more.

"Naughty girl. You didn't answer my question. How are you feeling?"

She refused to answer. She wouldn't. Wait - he was toying with her. She couldn't even if she wanted to. He laughed; for a second she felt he'd heard and judged her thoughts. It was a domineering, somehow condescending sound she'd never thought this guy could make.

"Let me guess. You can barely think straight. You're bound tight but your mind's racing out of control. You don't understand how you could have gotten into this position. Why you let me bind you up like this. Why you helped me do it."

"Mmp hmm!"

She heard a rustle of cloth. What was he doing? Why wasn't he saying anything? What was he going to do to her?

Each rustle and susurration she heard, even her own breath, set her mind off down a twisting path of wild speculation. What was he doing? What was going to happen to her next? Why wasn't a little perv like him completely under her thumb? Why weren't his hands all over her? Not that she wanted that, even though she'd challenged him to do it. It was sure to happen, any minute now. She was ready, anticipating his touch. A little color rose in her cheeks and a tingle raced through her nipples for the briefest moment. Could he see her reacting like this? What was he thinking, and how dare he do this to her? Why did she let him? How could this personality possibly be hiding in this nervous loner?

It was as if this bondage had allowed her mind to run free, removing it from her control. Stacy barely recognized her thoughts; who was she becoming? This was completely unlike her. Since high school people did what she told them; her way or not at all. Everything in her life up to this point had been orderly, and almost always with her pulling the strings. She had both the looks and the intellect to dominate everyone. But now she was someone else's puppet. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, she could only listen and anticipate. She felt her pride wilt and shame bloom to fill the space it left within her. Shame, a foreign emotion to her. It felt oddly similar to excitement, but everyone felt like that, right? She wasn't a freak, was she? Impossible.

What would her friends say if they saw her like this? What about the campus organizations she led, respected her? How would this change what they thought of her?

"You can deny it, but you know the truth. You want to be bound. You like this."

"Fhh ophh!" she denied it, vehemently, even as she struggled to understand her reactions.

She denied it even as the familiar wet heat slowly built between her thighs. These new and impossible feelings were assailing her in parallel with the old and familiar one of... arousal. Okay, she was turned on. Stacy didn't know why, but she was getting hotter and hotter with each passing moment. What the hell was this feeling?

"Really? Well if you don't feel that way, or are so mired in denial, you can leave at any time, Sta-cey." he drew her name out, mockingly. "I have no use for a disobedient slave. All you have to do is shake your head, and you're free to go."

Stacy said nothing. His words washed over her, eroding her mind waves on the sand, bit by bit. She should shake her head now. Why wasn't she doing it? It was an out, she should take it! She shouldn't want... this. Stacy could barely think.

Stuck in indecision and betrayed by her body's reactions all that was left were his words and the grip of her restraints, gently but firmly holding her in place. She felt cast adrift. Her senses were restricted, so naturally she strained to find an anchor, sensitive to every sound and movement. Despite herself, she found she was mentally clinging to his voice, waiting eagerly for his next word. Most of all, she felt the straps, binding her tightly in place. Holding her securely. It felt nice...

No! No it fucking didn't, she told herself. This was some kinky shit, and she wasn't a freak.

"Mmm, so now we both know. You're into this."

She wasn't into this. Stacy repeated it, even as she felt an unbelievable heat start to build between her legs.

"Do let me know if you change your mind, and we'll stop immediately."

She wasn't into this. She felt that dangerous warmth pulse inside her.

"Though you won't do that because..."

She wasn't into this. The slight breeze of his movement gently stroked her skin, bringing with it the familiar musky aroma of her excitement.

"... you like being in this position. You want to be my slave."

She wasn't into... she felt her pussy clench at his final word. Felt the wetness creep down her thighs, as everything above was saturated. She was turned on, she admitted, defeatedly. Oh fuck - she was a freak. A sexual deviant. Tears of frustration built in her eyes. How her friends were going to laugh at her. Everyone would look down their noses at her. Her parents would disown her. The humiliation would be... Oh fuck, what was that? Did she almost cum?

"If you are honest with yourself, if you relax, and listen to your body, you will feel something strange happening to you. You like this, but you don't want to like it. You don't know why you like it. It doesn't fit what you expected. So you want to pretend, because otherwise you will have to admit your... fetish... to yourself."

Stacy's body froze in shock, a shiver down her spine. How the fuck did he know what she was thinking? Could he... no, it wasn't possible. But how? Did he read my... Hello, can you hear me?

"Relax, slave. I can't read your mind. But right now, in this particular situation, I can do something better. When we're like this, I understand you better than you do yourself. See, I have something of an interest in this stuff, though no practical experience. You're actually telling me everything I need to know, all by yourself. Every breath, every movement, every hesitation. I'll be your interpreter, Stacy. Between your rational mind and your desires. I'll translate for you, as arrogant as that sounds. Would you like that? Would you like me to help you?"

Stacy was panting now, feeling lightheaded. Would she like that? Yes - no, no she wouldn't! Oh, just stop asking questions, she thought. She couldn't even remember her own name right now.

Her top, soaked with her sweat, clung to her skin. Could he see that?

Her panties were a sodden ruin, and her scent filled the room. Could he smell that?

Her body was shaking, anticipating a touch he was still denying her. Why wouldn't he touch her? Why was she so close to cumming?

"Shall we go a bit further? Explore our little role reversal? You can also wimp out any time. Shake your head now, and this will all stop and everything goes back to normal."

Her breath hitched. Yes, yes - just a bit more, a little bit and then she'd... Snap out of it, slut! Shake - your - head girl! Do it! She wasn't... that stuff he said about her wasn't true! Well, okay, it's slightly true now, but it wasn't before. So it's no! No exploring. No, no, no. But a little touch would be okay. A little touch, like the one she'd originally offered him, she thought with a smile. Just a little one. He didn't even have to untie her first. Yes, she should stay tied up. He should just touch her, do it now. Yes, yes...

"Good girl." he said, and despite herself Stacy felt a rush of happiness from the compliment.

Had she nodded? She couldn't remember. Fuck. Why had she nodded? But she hadn't. Had she? Stacy frowned in confusion until his soothing words resumed.

"Some might call you a closet freak. The truth is you love relaxing, you love giving up control, but no-one is worthy of it. But you've given it to me. Examine your feelings. You're more turned on than you have been in years. You don't know why you feel this way. You didn't expect this excitement, this tingling in your body. But you can't deny that you feel it."

Stacy did feel it. That excitement, that uncertainty. She was vibrating with it.

"You love this."

She shivered as he leaned forward, his lips brushed her ear, whispering. One of his fingers gently, almost imperceptibly flicked her nipple, sending an electricity surging to her clit. She moaned despite herself.

"I-I can t-tell. Y... you think I can't see this evidence on your ch... chest or h-hear you m... m-moan?" he stuttered, stumbling over his words.

His nervous tone brought broke the flow of her thoughts, the world slowly coming back into sharp focus as he stopped speaking. She could tell he'd noticed, could hear him pause. She felt his gaze, assessing her.

A hitch in the metronome of his breath announced he'd reached a conclusion. What had he decided, now he had her there, horny, compliant and helpless? He moved behind her and... She felt the bonds around her arms loosen all at once. Unprepared, she almost fell over at the sudden, unexpected freedom. She fell against the wall behind her, and almost slumped to the floor, as if the belt had her support rather than her restraint. Stacy put out a hand to steady herself then didn't move again. She just sat there for a moment as a crushing wave of unexpected disappointment rushed over her as he turned her loose.

~~~~

Trissy the sissy - sorry, Tristan - sighed deeply as he watched Stacy, frozen in her pose on the dirty floor. He'd gotten further than he'd expected before he'd lost his nerve. He was resigned to his fate now, but it'd been worth it. Give him this choice a thousand times and he'd make the same one each time. A moment ago, for a brief instant, he'd felt it, that feeling of being Master, with a fantasy woman. It had been exactly the person and situation he never thought he'd get to experience in the boring risk-free life he and his parents had planned out for him on that flowchart in their den. This experience was definitely unplanned. He'd gotten to live out a little of his dreams with what the chess club (and probably most other guys too, to be fair) agreed was the most gorgeous girl in school. Now of course it was over and his self-doubt dropped right back into the forefront of his mind. His fear of the consequences, pushed aside for a moment, rebelled and rose almost as high as it ever had.

Sure there would be anger, and consequences, and he hadn't gotten her to agree, not to this, not really. Sure, she did say "anything". Sure, being the loser he was he'd declined to grope her when she'd offered, and explained what he was going to do to her instead. Sure, she'd laughed and even challenged him to do it, but she hadn't truly been expecting him to follow through. Every word comes with qualifiers, and ignorance isn't an excuse to take someone literally, as his mom would have told him. But to be fair Stacy's intentions were clear from the second she approached him at this party. She'd come up to him solely to toy with him. Girls who looked like her never deigned to speak with social misfits like him. At least not unless their grades were bad, and Stacy? Stacy was consistently on the Dean's list.

Despite all this angst, Tristan felt an almost overwhelming sense of satisfaction. So he'd fucked up and his persona and nerve had both evaporated like smoke. So what? He hadn't been expecting that fantasy master personality to work at all. Tristan had just used Stacy's proposition as an opportunity to live out what he'd always imagined. Of course he'd taken her up on her offer, despite the malice in her eyes, and selfishly flipped the script. And that stuff, a few minutes ago? Having her in the palm of his hand, so to speak? It had been the highlight of his life. He knew when Stacy pulled herself back together she was going to kill him, socially if not physically. Perhaps even get the cops involved. He had no regrets. It had been just like he'd imagined. Reading his partner, paying attention to her body, they were communicating without words, for just a few precious seconds anyway.