Bound To Her Past Ch. 03

If he saw me trying to test the security of the lashings, growing more and more panicked as I did so, he didn't comment. However, on my face, he could clearly see me puzzling out that no one had heard my shrieks for help, that I was alone in this. Save for him. "Yeah, that's right." He spoke with such confidence, such arrogance, that it actually made me feel sick. What I wouldn't have given to punch him straight in the mouth. "I was wondering when you might figure that out. Took you long enough."

Here, while I still was trying to contain my reactions, I couldn't help but shake my head a little once more, both in horror and irritation. "See, I wanted you to scream, to really scream, loud as you could, so you would know no one could hear you. That no one's coming for you. That it's just you and me in it for the long haul. I made sure of that before I picked the place. Checked that the neighbors were too far away to hear anything useful. Otherwise, I would've just grabbed you at your car or something." The realization that he had put so much thought and effort into this, that he had planned it all so meticulously, suddenly sent chills down my spine. The mental picture of him abducting me while at work, or at the gym - like some common kidnapping - was even worse. Who knew how much I would have gotten roughed up if he had gone that route? For that matter, where would he even have taken me once subdued? I was willing to bet that it wouldn't have been here. I shuddered at the very thought, and was finally just at a loss. The fight was slipping out of me, which is no doubt what he wanted. "Yeah, that's right, it's you and me, sweetheart. In this wild and crazy thing together. Doesn't it sound fun?"

I didn't really know how to respond to this, as he was clearly yet again trying to elicit a certain response from me, all in a very calculated way. So instead, I just let me think that he had won. And maybe in body he had, but not yet in mind. "Fine," I hissed icily. "You're so smart, tough guy. You grabbed a girl half your size, and you convinced her to go along with this stupid thing, and you made sure that once she did there was no getting out of it. Congratu-fucking-lations. Good for you. Got me to trust you when you clearly you've decided to be a prick. You want a medal or something? No? I didn't think so. Then what do you want? What could possibly be worth all this insanity?" I felt like I was rambling, like the words were just spilling out of me uncontrollably, which, I suppose, in a way they kind of were.

"I want to finish what I started," he answered easily and solemnly.

"Fine. Good. Then fucking do it. Please. Let's get this over with. I'm fucking game. You won't get any more trouble from me. Put all the fucking ropes on me you can fit. That what you wanted to hear? You got what you wanted." Boy, I really could not stop the word vomit.

"Okay, you're right, let's do it. Get up."

At these words, though, my eyes instantly widened with concern. I was already regretting what I had just said. "Get up? Why do I have to get up?" I could tell my voice was rising, and sounding more than a little crazy.

"To finish tying you up," he answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it was.

"Okay, just do it here then." I was already begging again. Why couldn't I stop this? Probably because my hands were fucking bound behind my back, I reminded myself glumly. "I don't need to get up. If you're tying my ankles together, go ahead, like I said, no trouble from me. I don't need to be standing for that, though. I don't want to fall with my wrists tied behind me like this." Stupidly, I tried to gesture with my hands what 'like this' meant, and ended up inadvertently demonstrating what I had just said. Being perfectly honest, however, I really didn't want to move at all for any reason. I was content to just let this all play out from the couch - for some unfathomable reason, there seemed some degree of safety there.

And true, I really didn't want to take a spill while done up like, as I would have no way of breaking my fall. But mostly, I didn't care for the thought of what else might get into his head if he had me standing once again. At least my butt was protected when sitting down like this, and while my boobs were clumsily thrust out, there wasn't really a convenient way of getting at them from this angle. I really didn't know what else he might get up to if we started moving around, or, for that matter, where he might want to move me. No, far better to just stay here and sit tight, ride out whatever was to come. I hoped my logical, if not ulterior reasoning would get through to him.

But of course, it didn't. "Look, are you going to get up, or do I need to go over there and get you?" He said it so matter-of-factly, that in any other situation it would have been reassuring, but here, it was scary. "You're not going to like it if that's what it takes, but there's no reason for any of that."

I sighed; what else could I do? So I got up and walked reluctantly towards him - into the belly of the beast. Looking straight into his eyes, to at least pretend I still had some modicum of control, I said breathlessly but still somewhat defiantly, "okay."

Without answering, he walked into the kitchen and disappeared for several seconds. I assumed he had stowed some more of his...materials, if that's what you wanted to call them, in there. Sure enough, when he returned, he was holding a black duffel bag. He strode over to me, set the bag on the floor, and then began placidly rummaging through it like he was looking for no more than a pair of gym shorts. Finally, he fished out another piece of rope. A long piece of rope. Like, a really long piece of rope. Much longer, I assumed, than the one that had been wound around my wrists. I looked at it with a mixture of disbelief and terror.

"Hey...uh, what's that for?" I asked, trying to keep things light, even though my voice was shaking.

He scoffed, looking at me like I was dumb. I was really getting tired of that. "What do you think it's for?"

"I mean, what's all that for? Why do you need so much? You're not really going to put all that on me, are you?" My voice betrayed me, sounding ever more dismayed. I had literally just said he could put as much rope on me as he wanted, but I hadn't actually meant that, well, literally. I continued to stare at the enormous length apprehensively. I felt like if he wrapped all that around my ankles, it would wind halfway up my knees. "Really, do you need all that just to tie my ankles? Especially since I said that I gave up, that I wouldn't try and get away. Like, isn't that a bit much?" The last sentence squeaked out as more an accusation than a question.

"Just let me worry about that. I thought you were going to quit your complaining anyways?" Damn, I knew I shouldn't have said any of that.

"Uh, I mean, okay I guess," I responded, hesitantly. My mind raced for some way to try and stop him, to prevent him from using that whole thing, but it was unable to come up with any kind of plausible answer.

"Well, I wasn't really asking for permission, but thanks anyways." And with that, he stepped directly behind me, so once again I could no longer see him. This felt exactly like when he had started tying my hands, so I was at least glad that now there was nothing he could push me over.

I expected him to stoop down and begin to loop the rope around my ankles. After that, how I was supposed to get back to couch, or wherever else we were going with this, was anyone's guess. Perhaps he hadn't thought things through that far, I pondered, but given all that had transpired so far, this seemed pretty unlikely. However, I at least took some satisfaction in the fact that it would be awkward for him to do this from the standing position he had forced me into. But much to my dismay, instead of going to work by my feet, I felt a circle of rope drop over my head and fall as low as my waist. It seemed he had created a sort of lasso, in the same way that he had for wrists. The rope stopped at my wait though, and dipped no further. This didn't make any sense.

"Hey, what the fuck are you..." I started to stammer incredulously. But as soon as I started to speak, I felt one of his arms wrap around and secure me by the stomach. While I was stunned into silence, he roughly pulled me against him one again. When this also got no protest from me, he felt free to move upwards, and grabbed a handful of my tits.

"Ouch, what the fuck?" I yelled out, his rough treatment allowing me to find my words once again. I was really done with being treated this way, like he could just paw all over me however much he wanted. Why had I said that I wouldn't struggle anymore? That statement more or less gave him a blank check to do whatever he wanted. However, my indignant question only caused him to grope me more forcefully, like my boobs were some kind of a toy rather than a part of my body. I whimpered in revulsion. "Can you fucking stop? Like, seriously!?"

He used this response as an excuse to seize me even harder, and used his grip on my tits to pull my upper back against his chest. Although he was standing there to stop me, I was almost thrown off balance. Leaning into him in such a way, needing him for support, filled me with disgust. But having positioned me in such a way, he now used the opportunity to hiss directly into my ear.

"I thought you weren't going to argue anymore. Your words, not mine. No more trouble from you, right?" I sighed. What was he playing at, behaving in such a way? He was right; I had said that. And as such, there was no reason to continue treating me in such a way. Like it was a game, or like I was actually being kidnapped, or like I don't know what. He was just doing it for kicks.

I stamped my feet impatiently, annoyed that he was still holding me by my breast when he could easily let go. However, this small move of indignation just caused him to give my boob another squeeze. Better to just mentally detach myself from those things, I thought sullenly to myself. At the rate things were going, he was probably going to do this to me a time or two more, and hands bound as they were, there was nothing I could do to prevent it. I may as well just go along with things, I mused, as it seemed the more I fought back, the more he got off on the whole spectacle. So I just stood there stoically while he continued to play with them.

"Okay, fine. No trouble. Are you going to tie my ankles or what? That was the deal, right?"

"No, this one's for your chest and arms," he said it plainly, as if we had discussed this previously, and I had somehow missed it.

"It's for my what!?" I demanded heatedly. Why he had retrieved so much rope suddenly made sense. It was still way too much, even to wrap around my arms and my chest, but still, at least now it made a shred of sense. "Why the hell do you need rope for arms and chest?" I continued through pursed lips. Attempting to stick to our agreement, it took everything I had to not try and break free of him.

"You heard me...chest and arms. Is that so hard to understand?"

"Don't talk to me like that."

"Then stop whining." I snorted derisively in response. If ever there was a time to complain, this was it. He went on, "look, you're the one who said you wanted to get this over and done with. What's a little bit more rope around your arms if it helps us wrap this thing up?"

"Is that what you call a little bit of rope?" I asked, condescendingly.

"You want to keep arguing about stuff that doesn't matter?" I breathed out heavily once again before making up my mind.

"Fine, just get off me." I shook him loose, which was difficult with my hands tied as they were, but I still got the job done. "This is getting fucking ridiculous, but fine. Just hurry up. Arms, chest, whatever, I just want you out." At the time that I uttered them, I had no idea how quickly I would come to regret saying those fateful words. "Stop playing with my boobs, though. I'm not your fucking sex doll." Why that was the only request I could come up with out of all of this, not, say tie these things a little looser, I couldn't tell you.

"Fair enough," he said it simply, but then nothing happened.

"Well, are you going to get started or what?" I said it almost like issuing a challenge, and was sorry for it near instantly.

For as soon as the words left my lips, he flew into action. Just like with my wrists, I felt the rope tug with a purposefulness, and the lasso automatically pulled itself chillingly tighter. In a much more alarming way, actually, than had been the case with my wrists. Now probably, this was just a function of the skin on my torso and arms being much softer, and thus more sensitive, than that around my hands, but that didn't matter. The end result was the same. It was horrible. We had just gotten started with this, and I already didn't like it one bit. For this time, after he gave the rope the yank, the terrible uneasiness went on.

The rope slowly snaked its way up my stomach, almost as if it were deliberately taking its time, and the callous sensation of its touch gave me goosebumps. I knew that things were only moving in slow motion from my perspective, but I couldn't stop it. And it just made the whole terrible business last longer than it already would have. I steadfastly refused to watch the spectacle unfold, but there was no way I could prevent myself from feeling what was happening. I was fully aware of each inch that the rope travelled, slowly and inexorably rising against the fabric of my sweater. Thank god for that sweater; I couldn't even imagine what this would feel like on my bare skin. It was like some kind of horrible hand methodically working its way over my body, taking it sweet time on its way to the fun parts. His hands were fully behind me, and yet I still somehow felt like I was being felt up, groped, fondled against my will. By a fucking rope. And as the rope crept higher and higher, slowly trailing its contact over me, I was filled with a deluge of nervous anticipation, but not in a good way. I couldn't stop myself from whimpering just a bit at what was happening.

When the rope finally, thankfully, came to a rest directly under my breasts, it was an immense relief. But only for a second. For as soon as it got there, I felt him pull it with a jerk, and was made to gasp out at the sudden tightness encircling around me. I should have been expecting it, as it was so similar to what had he had done to my wrists, but nothing can prepare you for having a rope around your arms and chest like that. People play games with their hands tied. They do that in the movies like it's no big deal. Hell, people even fuck like that. This was something different. This was real. This wasn't about fun - it was about keeping me still. I understood that instantly. I could already tell that my arms had become pinned immovably against my back. Now, it would be harder than ever to try and twist my wrists free, as they were pretty much plastered against the top of my butt. I could wiggle them up and down, but that was about it. God damn him. He really had put some thought into this. I stared blankly ahead, not reacting at all aside from the involuntary whimpering and gasp, and the slight twitching of my hands. What was there to say? The only thing I did was to silently take a step backward, regaining my balance after the force of the pull.

The rope tugged at my breasts as it looped beneath them a second time, and then a third. With each pass, I felt my arms become ever more irrevocably fixed to my torso. Already, there would be no way to try and lift my arms off my back, and at this rate, I would barely be able to move them at all. I would have to somehow try to shimmy my wrists free while they were also stuck to my back. There would be no screwing them back and forth - not unless I could somehow slink this rope under my tits off. And who even knew how tight that was going to get?

Still, I steadfastly refused to glance down. I didn't even want to begin imagining myself looking this way, much less actually see a picture of it. I wasn't sure that if I did, whether I would ever be able to get such images out of my mind. The feeling of being trapped like this- not in a room or in a building, but actually against my own body - was bad enough. More than bad enough, without actually getting a good view of things. Which, of course, from this angle, and from this close, was there anything other than a 'good' view? No doubt he wouldn't think so. Yes, watching as the whole horrible business unspool, as a passive observer, a victim, was not appealing to me in the least. It would almost be like watching some awful movie happen to myself. As, I don't know, a captive audience. I almost grinned stupidly to thin air, and then chastised myself inwardly just as quickly. Why was I making private jokes at a time like this? Jokes to no one in particular?

Maybe it was just my way of trying to deal with it all. Maybe if I didn't think about it, if I just willed myself mentally into some faraway place, the whole thing would just be over with, sooner rather than later. I tried, I really did. But every time I felt another coil pull snuggly against my bra, I was snapped back to reality. Jesus, was he actually planning to use that entire piece of rope on me? I wasn't sure if the thought of that made me more scared or annoyed. Putting all that on one person just seemed obscene; well, more obscene than this already was, anyways. In a weird way, it also felt pretty wasteful. It was such a strange thought, almost as bad as trying to make jokes given the circumstances, so I quickly reminded myself to keep my priorities in check.

After all, wasteful or not, how was I ever supposed to try and wriggle loose from all this? At the rate he was going, I was probably going to end up looking like a mummy, or a roll of toilet paper. Both super attractive options. I shook my head back and forth sadly, and decided that I had no choice but to inspect the gratuitous work he was accomplishing. Horrible imagery or not, it had to be done. I didn't want to, oh man did I not want to - I really would have preferred to just keep trying to pretend that none of this was happening. But that didn't seem like a terribly responsible reaction to any of this. Sticking your head in the sand never got anyone anywhere.

If he was actually going to use this much rope, then I had better have some idea about how he was getting it all on me. That is, if I wanted to have any chance of being free by tomorrow morning, rather than writing around on the floor for God knew how long. Peeling the rope off the opposite way it had gone on was likely to be the easiest of the options. So I decided to see exactly how stupid I looked. Hopefully, not too degraded. I wasn't sure which was worse, that, or the attractively sluttish style I seemed to be pulling off with no problem. However, those thoughts were all put to bed instantly. Peering down, I was absolutely mortified by what I found there. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. The top button on my jeans had popped loose!