Bound To Her Past Ch. 02

Anyways, if how rough he was getting was any indication, maybe I had made the right decision. After all, if he was this physical when I was more or less rolling with the punches, or at a minimum had initially agreed to things, what would he be like if he was trying to stuff me into ropes by force? I don't think it would have been pretty, and I don't think I would have cared much for the experience. Not one bit. Worse, in all likelihood he would have liked it that much more. He was appearing to have more fun bending me to his will than either of us cared to admit, at least out loud. If he was this way now, who knew what he would be like if presented with a real challenge.

On top of that, I was certain I would be able to get loose if I had occasion to really want to; it's not like I believed tying a person up could actually keep them captive. Well, maybe some people could manage that, like a professional criminal, or something. Someone who had practice actually keeping someone against their will when the stakes really mattered. But that wasn't him. Not even close. Anything he had gotten, he had gleaned from the movies. Truly, though, when I had agreed to this proposal, I had only meant that I wouldn't try and stop him while he tied the ropes over me. In a million years, I had never intended that he could throw me across the couch like he was going to abduct me. Or fuck me. Or both. This had been a bargain fairly struck. He wasn't some burglar who could just tie me up and then do whatever the hell he pleased. This was still my home, after all. My rules. Or so I thought.

Having given up fighting him, and with my head turned to the side, I was now able to holler clearly if that's what was needed. Screaming into a cushion wasn't getting me anywhere. I tried to move my head a bit more, to make it somewhat comfortable. In this position, it was being turned rather harshly. It was a difficult maneuver, with his hand still holding the back of my neck, but I managed. As I did so, though, some of my hair got caught beneath his grip, and when I tried to fully maneuver my face, it pulled at the clump painfully. 'Great,' I thought; this was really just getting more pathetic and infuriating by the minute.

With my face finally free, at least somewhat, I let loose. "Ow! What the hell are you doing!?" I demanded indignantly. Apparently untroubled by this, he completely ignored me, aside from finally taking his hand fully off my neck. Then, rather than answering me, I instead felt a circle of rope slip quietly over my wrists. Where he had gotten it from, I couldn't say; all I could tell you was that he had apparently come prepared for this inevitable eventuality. I assume he had it hidden in one of his back pockets, and that this had been his disgusting plan all along. I wouldn't know. It was increasingly clear that I hadn't been made totally privy to what this was all about, and what it would fully entail. For before I could ask him about it further, to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, he firmly gave the rope a jerk, and my wrists were suddenly bound inseparably together. It was as easy as that. I yelped both in pain and in surprise at how quickly it had all happened.

"OUCH!" I screamed, trying to roll over and see my hands, even though I knew it was useless. "What the fuck are you doing? Let me up. I said you could do it; you don't have to be such a dick about it. That fucking hurt." The way the rope had cinched together so smoothly had pinched some of my skin. I rubbed my wrists together, seeing if I could loosen the rope somewhat, and was alarmed at how tightly it held. I could barely move my wrists at all! Giving up on this, and unable to get my head fully around, I instead tried to roll my eyes to the side, so I could get a better look at him. I wanted to show with complete clarity exactly how pissed I was getting.

If I hadn't said he could get so rough with me, I definitely hadn't said he could actually hurt me, whether it was a little pinch or not. That was fucked up. I was next-to-certain that my face was fairly blazing with anger, and I hoped this might make him back off somewhat. Or at least make him reconsider what he was doing, be a touch gentler. Where the hell had he learned to do that, anyways? So much for getting this idea from the movies; this wasn't how you tied someone up. You just wrapped the rope around them and knotted it off when it looked good enough. Granted, I had never actually seen someone tied up in person before, outside of that stupid shit we occasionally did in the bedroom, and even then, obviously, I couldn't see myself. And yet, why would I have seen something like that? It's not like I was in the business of tying people up, or getting tied up myself. I could already tell it sucked, and he had barely even gotten started. Either way, I was more or less sure that this was how the thing was supposed to work -- loop, knot, done. How else would you tie someone up? Like this, I guess. Who the hell knew?

"Hey, I'm talking to you! Stop! This wasn't what we agreed to," I shouted, knowing I sounded increasingly desperate. I didn't know whether confidence or passiveness was my better bet, as he seemed unresponsive to both approaches equally. In any case, he persisted in ignoring me, and continued to confidently wrap the rope around my wrists. It was getting tighter and tighter, and he was using way more rope than I ever thought he would. I had figured he would just circle my wrists a couple of times and call it a day. Like it was cowboys and indians, or something. Fantasy. Not real-life bank teller bound while the robber made off with the cash. This was another thing entirely. This was serious.

I was becoming increasingly unsure that I would be able to get my hands free if and when I decided I wanted to. Actually, I wanted to now, but it didn't seem like a wise time to attempt it. I didn't want to provoke even more ropes by making him think I might be able to easily get loose. The ropes were already fairly secure around me, and through all of this, he still had my crotch pinned snugly against the armrest. So while I was pretty pissed myself, it didn't seem like a great moment to piss him off too. After all, who knew what else he was planning? Clearly, he had more up his sleeve than I had imagined. Was he planning on doing this shit to my ankles too? Wouldn't that be great? So instead, I dispensed with the yelling, and I tried talking to him calmly.

"Hey, can you answer me please? I never said okay to something like this. Hey, c'mon, talk to me. I was pretty cool about all this," I implored him, but to no avail. I was trying to sound somewhat measured, if not sweet, in the hope that he might lighten up with all that he was doing. If it worked at all, though, he didn't show it - not through actions or words. Okay, fine, he wanted the damsel, or the victim, or whatever. I could manage that, play those roles, as unsavory as it might be. "Please, that hurts," I whimpered. "You don't have to tie it so tight. I promise I won't try and get away. I'll sit here just like you wanted." I tried to put an angelic, obedient look on my face.

Suddenly, as if in direct response to my little act, the way he was winding the rope turned in the perpendicular direction. What the hell was he doing now? Yet again, I tried swinging my head around to get a look, even though I knew it was fruitless. Instead of wrapping around my wrists, the rope was now encircling itself, going between my wrists instead of around them. And holy shit did that make it tight! The rope was now holding me with such strength that I could scarcely believe it. You could actually tie someone up like this? No wonder those girls in the newspapers couldn't get free. This was some next-level, actual prisoner stuff. Can't move for the life of you kind of stuff. Fuck.

Each time he went around, the rope pinched tighter and tighter, until it finally bound my wrists in a way that was nothing short of shocking. I would say alarming, or concerning, if that's what this was, but it wasn't. It was way beyond that. This was shocking. I simply could not move my hands, and even worse, I wasn't sure I would ever be able to. Not without someone else's help, that is. All at once, I desperately wished that I had tried harder to run when I had the chance. That I had screamed just a little louder. That I had fought even harder when I found out who this was. He had just begun, and yeah, I was already captive in a way I had never imagined. Not a captive audience, mind you, nothing so silly as that. Pretending to be trapped there so he could finish up his spiel and move on. Like, actually his captive. Then, as if to add insult to injury, without warning, I felt him begin to knot the two ends of the rope together, apparently satisfied with what he had accomplished. And for the final knot, he pulled the rope far more roughly than was reasonably necessary, as if intending to end with a flourish. It made me cry out again in pain or dismay. I wasn't sure which. I wasn't sure I even wanted to know.

Fuck. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing, or hearing what he was doing to me. There seemed to be some malign purpose behind his actions, one that I hadn't quite figured out yet, that I didn't want to unwittingly reward. I was certain he had jerked the rope like that just to show me he could, to chasten me, to show me I was completely at his disposal. And here I had given him exactly what he had wanted. I now very much doubted that this was all about needing to tell me something, and to make sure I sat still while he did so. Whether this was about revenge, or something worse, I couldn't yet tell, but I had a pretty good feeling that I wasn't going to like it. That, and I was going to find out soon enough. Shaking my head, I quietly gasped in disbelief at the sheer horror of it all. How had I been so stupid? Of course he had an ulterior motive. And as I tested the ropes yet again, still seeing if I could somehow wrench my hands free, I suddenly realized with complete certainty that I could not get them loose. Actually, to put it bluntly, I instantly understood that I was pretty much stuck for the moment, and walking away from all this would not be in my immediate future, not without a hell of a lot of grief, or help from him, anyways.

"Hey, be gentle!" I said, still trying to keep my voice level. It was hard, because I could feel my anger and despair rising once again. My mind was furiously racing from one thought to the next, urgently trying to work out what I should do next. I was at a loss. I tried seeing if my fingers could reach the knots, but they encountered nothing but empty space. I wasn't even sure where along my wrists the knots actually were. If they were along the top of the bindings, I would really be fucked. There was no way in hell my fingers would be able to reach up there, let alone be capable of prying the knots apart. Even worse, that was so awkwardly situated, I didn't think I could manipulate anything useful into that vicinity, like scissors or a pen, to try and wrest the knots loose. Instinctively, I realized this was probably more than a little obvious to him as well, so undoubtedly, he had placed the knots in exactly that place. Of course he thought this way; why was I surprised? Whether he did it to better keep me entrapped, or just to vex me, who knew? Probably both -- he would really like that. To know he was making me mad, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it but sit there and stew. Damn him. Damn him, and fuck me for ever going along with this. Increasingly aware that this might be evolving into a rather long night, I decided I needed to, yet again, try and change tactics.

"That's too tight," I went on, trying to sound girlish and sad. The voice I would have used if I had really wanted him to do something back when we were still dating. A voice he would want to take care of. I figured it might make him feel bad, and shame him into loosening the bonds up a bit. Either that, or it was giving him precisely what he wanted from me. For me to beg, to be forced into asking him for his help. Yuck. "Can I at least get up now? Seems like you're done tying; there's no reason I have to be held down like this. I can't get away anymore, right? You got what you wanted. Hello?" Why wouldn't he answer me? It was both annoying and distressing.

"Please take some of these ropes off. All of this is too much, it's not necessary," I pleaded. "This is ridiculous, you don't need this much rope to make sure I listen to you. Take some off and I promise I won't even try and move. Please. They're hurting my wrists." And this last part was the truth, not something I was just saying for show. My wrists were actually starting to ache dully, and my hands were starting to feel a little cold. It hadn't just been a pinch of skin; the ropes were digging into me much more deeply than I had first realized. No wonder I was having so much trouble trying to free myself, even a little, to just get my wrists to move the slightest bit. I just couldn't catch a break.

"I don't want to do this anymore," I whimpered piteously, while batting my eyelashes a smidge, even though I was pretty sure he couldn't see it. "Please. Let me go. I'm begging you. Is that what you wanted to hear? I'm literally begging. This isn't what I signed up for. Please. Just let me go, and we can still talk about all of this."

"Oh, I think it's exactly what you signed up for," he answered with a chortle. I suddenly snapped to awareness, eyes wide with mischief. So...he was laughing, this was all a big game to him. I was starting to think this might just have been about tying me up and then leaving me here in a pathetic heap. Struggling there alone with my thoughts, to ruminate on whatever wrongs he felt I had done him. That talking things through had never been a part of the plan. But we were talking now - finally getting somewhere.

"Okay, well, I really don't get it. Can you just tell me what this is really all about? You seem upset." It sounded innocent enough, and I hoped he would take the bait. Whatever he wanted, if I could show I was sufficiently chastened, whether I actually felt it or not, maybe we could both move on. I'd do so gladly. What difference was it whether I was actually sorry for whatever prompted all of this?

He laughed again, but a little more coldly this time. "Oh please, don't take that simpering, good-girl tone with me. 'Cause it ain't going to work. Who do you think you're talking to, anyways?"

Apparently, feeling confident that I was now sufficiently secured, he felt comfortable enough to finally play along with whatever this was. What was he still doing back there anyways? Probably staring at the top part of my ass that I could feel still hanging out. Pervert. Well, he better enjoy it while he could, because this was going to be the last of it. That response, though, wasn't going to fly. Not by a long shot. I was quickly moving from blind rage to clear-headed frustration, both at him and myself. And it emboldened me, made me feel like I could get back in control of this whole thing, even with my hands bound as they were.

"Hey, I said take them off," I demanded, curtly. Then, realizing he almost certainly wasn't going to do that, and I would look stupid for even suggesting it, I continued "or at least loosen them. Despite what you may think, this definitely is not what I said, okay? Hands and ankles, that was it. No throwing me over the couch. No tying my wrists like we'll be here till tomorrow. None of that. If it's going to be like this, you can get the hell out." I tried to speak with authority, but it was difficult feeling confident when I was still bent over the couch, hands trapped behind my back, with my ass sticking in the air. In any case, he didn't seem to take it particularly seriously.

"Oh yeah?" he asked with the amused tone again. I swore to God, the first thing I was going to do when my hands were free again was going to wipe that smirk right off of his face. "Now, there's the spirit I missed, I was starting to think I wouldn't see it tonight. That would've been such a disappointment. You have no idea. But babe, if I leave, how will you get free?" The way he said it just dripped with feigned concern.

"Don't worry about that, I'll manage," I shot back haughtily, with much more gusto than I actually felt. I decided to ignore the pet name; now wasn't the time, and if he was starting to feel sentimental, so much the better. "Loosen these ropes or leave. That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

"Hmmm..." he intoned, in an overly audible way, as if he wanted me to be sure he was thinking about this long and hard. "You drive a hard bargain, my dear. But you know what? I don't think I will. Having too much fun. Nice try, though."

"Then get the fuck out," I veritably exploded. I began thrashing and kicking my legs once again, as if the outcome would somehow be different this time. I knew this was the exact response he wanted, but I didn't care. It made me feel better. "I'm done!" I shrieked. Without answering, he slid his hands up my arms and then gripped my shoulders, forcing me to lie still one again. Once again, my chest was heaving with deep breaths from all the exertion. He then bent forward so that his face was close to my neck, and I could feel his warm breath heavily again, this time against the cut of my jawline. It almost seemed as if he were going to whisper another something in my ear. 'Great,' I thought to myself, this ought to be good. Was he about to try and make some grand gesture? Was this finally the thing that had been so important for him tell me? Well, if he thought he could try and butter me up after all this, he was even more deluded than I thought. But let it just be done, I commanded internally. The sooner he did, the sooner I could tell him to piss right off.

However, rather than saying something, he then leaned heavily into my rear. I rolled my eyes. At least it wasn't a straight up thrust this time. As such, I wasn't really sure what he was up to, but then I felt it. He was grinding his stiff dick directly against my ass. Like he wanted me to fully understand that it was there. That I was doing this to him. That this entire fiasco was somehow turning him on. Disgusting. So he was getting off on this; all things considered, I wasn't entirely surprised. What do you expect out of a guy who wants to handcuff you to a headboard for fun. I half-heartedly tried squirming away once again, but as long as he held my shoulders, I was still as stuck as I had been before.

"You're foul, get that nasty thing off of me," I ordered him hotly. "No one wants that near them." Only more laughter. I swear, if my hands hadn't been tied I would have slugged him right then and there.

"Oh yeah? You sure used to like it inside you. In various parts of you." He said it in almost a sing-song way. Even though I couldn't see it, I could feel myself burning bright red. Not that it wasn't true; although, I would never admit it, not now, anyways. But that wasn't the point. The point was talking about it like that just made the whole thing feel so gratuitously filthy, and therefore, made this whole thing feel that much more filthy. Like I needed a shower. And it made me feel embarrassed, even though it shouldn't have, as well as unsure of myself, at exactly the wrong time. Most importantly, it made me feel gross, and look gross, at the precise moment when I was trying to project a facade of confidence - too regain the upper hand. Well, that was out the window, and honestly, had been since about ten minutes ago. Contrary to what I might have thought. It's hard to say you're getting any control over a situation when you have an unsolicited boner rubbing against your butt.

I'm sure that was all part of his plan too, though, to make me feel ashamed, so I wouldn't know what to do. Where to take things from here. So I would just give into whatever this was. And the sad thing was, it was working, somewhat, whether I was willing to fully admit that to myself or not. Yeah, I wasn't getting control of anything -- precisely the opposite. This was getting out of control. Simply put, I hadn't agreed to all this against my better judgement just so he could talk at me however he pleased. But I certainly hadn't agreed to it so he could try and show off his dick. It wasn't going to work that way. No wonder he had wanted to tie me up. Things would have never gotten this far. I would have slapped him clean across the face, had I been able too.