Entrapment

This story contains graphic descriptions of bondage sex and wholly consensual canings. Please do not read on if you find this offensive, and if you still do, please do not make negative comments. This has happened to me on several occasions and is akin to somebody knowingly going into an Indian restaurant and complaining that the food was too spicy.

Constructive criticism, either positive or negative, is always welcome. Without it, an author cannot know how they are doing and improve their efforts.

All protagonists in this story are older than eighteen years of age.

Any grammatical errors are mine and mine alone.

Ursula is my oldest and best girlfriend. I met her on my first day in primary school and apart from a gap of almost ten years when we didn't see each other at all, we have been pretty much inseparable ever since.

Let me explain. Ursula and I met almost twenty-five years ago when our respective mothers dropped us off and left us at school one September morning. We were an ill-matched pair. I was short and tubby whilst Julia was extremely tall for her age and plain and gawky looking. The important thing was that she and I were different from the other kids in our class and that marked us out for special attention. Kids are very cruel at that age, and Ursula who was around four feet tall and taller than any of the boys by at least four inches, was called Ugly Ursula both behind her back and to her face. I, who stood nine inches shorter than Ursula, and was the shortest kid in class was called Fatty Fiona, probably because, despite my short stature, I weighed at least twice what Ursula did. We were an ideal target for bullying.

To begin with, our friendship was more of a convenient alliance against a common foe, but with time we discovered that we had a lot in common despite our physical differences. Both of us were very good at schoolwork, disinterested in and poor at sports, and had similar interests outside school. Eventually, and with time, the bullying stopped. Particularly when Ursula punched one of the biggest boys in his nose and made it bleed. He had stolen her packed lunch and wouldn't give it back. I remember his parents pitching up at the school and Ursula being made to apologise, although nothing else came of it, except after that the other children left us alone.

By then we were an item. We sat together in class, had lunch together, and spent a lot of time together outside school.

As the years passed, I lost weight and got taller whilst Ursula just got taller, but we continued to be firm friends. By the time we reached Year nine and were thirteen years old, Ursula was almost six feet tall and stood a foot above me. We remained inseparable and shared everything we had with one another and each one of us was, for the other, the sister we never had.

That was until the fates stepped in and my father was offered a job promotion which entailed moving from Plymouth to Newcastle and, heartbroken, we were forced to tearfully say goodbye. To begin with, we spoke daily on the telephone, but slowly we lost touch. It was a busy time for both of us with our GCSE exams approaching and with that, out of sight out of mind, and new friends (at least for me), we went our separate ways.

***

When I was eighteen, I went to University in London and studied chemistry before taking a year off and touring Thailand, Vietnam Laos, and Cambodia. On my return to Newcastle, I stopped at my parents whilst looking for a job, and then one morning I saw an advertisement for a position as an assistant laboratory technician at Plymouth University.

After applying for the job, I was pleased to receive a letter informing me that I had been short-listed and inviting me to come for an interview. I wasn't very hopeful that I would get the job, but I had been advised by my father that, whatever happened, it would be good interview practice.

In the weeks before my interview I had thought about Ursula a lot and wondered what she had been up to in the years since I had last seen her. I didn't even know if she still lived in Plymouth, although I imagined her parents would still be living in the same house. I had lost their telephone number after losing touch with Ursula but decided to visit them if I was fortunate enough to be successful in my application.

A month later, I found myself sitting on the train as it pulled into Plymouth railway station on North Road. At first sight, the city appeared to have changed very little in my eight or so years away, although I was a very different person. I was now a young lady, with good looks, a reasonably good figure, and the confidence to match. I had learned to live with my short stature, standing only five feet two inches in my stockinged feet, but my mother had convinced me that "Good things come in small doses." A classmate, whose name I had forgotten, was a little less complimentary telling me "Deadly poison comes in small doses."

That day I had arrived in good time, two hours before I had been asked to attend. It was early June, and the sun was shining, so I took a short walk to the University campus where I sat on a bench and ate a prepackaged British Rail sandwich and drank a can of soft drink. I was nervous and would have preferred a glass of cold white wine but did not want to smell of alcohol.

I arrived in the chemistry department ten minutes before the allotted time and after talking to a bright young secretary who was not much older than I was, I was asked to wait in a small room where one grim-faced young man was already sitting. He smiled nervously at me but said nothing.

A few minutes later, the secretary reappeared, called my name, and showed me into the interview room where my inquisition was to take place. Things went surprisingly well. The details of what was said are unimportant and I can't remember much of it anyway, but when I left the room I was hopeful that I had impressed the three members of the panel. It turned out I was right because a few hours later, as my train was passing Reading, my mobile phone rang, and I was offered the Job.

***

I moved to Plymouth in the middle of July. I had already found a one-bedroom flat to rent close to the university, and I spent the next ten days furnishing it before my job started at the beginning of August. It was the weekend before I was due to report for duty that I finally decided to visit Ursula's old home. It was on the other side of Home Park, about two miles or forty minutes walking distance away.

It was early on Saturday afternoon when I reached my destination. I found the house easily, although it looked a little different from when I had last seen it. The front door and windows had been changed and the garden was neatly kept and not the jungle that it used to be. I rang the doorbell and waited and after a few moments, I heard movement behind the door, the jangling of a chain, and the door opened.

A harassed-looking young woman whom I didn't recognise stood on the doorstep.

"Can I help you," she asked wearily.

"I'm sorry to trouble you," I replied. "I'm looking for an old friend of mine who used to live here. Her surname was Walters."

She frowned.

"Well, they don't live here now. We've been living here for just over a year and as far as I can remember the people we bought it from weren't called Walters. I can't help I'm afraid."

Just then, I heard a baby crying and she turned towards the sound.

"I have to go," she said. "Why don't you try Mrs Jenkins next door? She watches all the comings and goings around here."

Then she turned, closed the door, and was gone.

It was then that I remembered Ursula talking about the nosey parker who lived next door and watched the street from behind her net curtains.

Mrs Jenkins opened her front door before I reached it and I realised she must have seen me speaking to her neighbour. She was a gaunt-looking old lady with white hair. Before I could say anything she spoke.

"Don't I know you? I'm sure I do."

"My name is Julia Sanderson," I said. "I was Ursula's friend when she lived next door."

"Of course. Now you've said it, I can see it's you. All grown up of course. Ursula was really upset when you left the school."

"And now I'm trying to find Ursula," I said." I wondered if you could help. Where did her mum and dad go? I thought they would live here forever."

"Come in my dear," she said. "I'll make us a cup of tea."

Over the next half hour, I sat at Mrs Jenkins's kitchen table whilst she described the "goings on" that had happened next door. About two years after I had left Plymouth Mr and Mrs Walters had divorced. He had been caught having an affair with Ursula's French teacher. At first, Ursula and her mum stayed in the house, and he left. Then a couple of years afterward, when Ursula had finished school, Mrs Walters sold the house and moved away. Mrs Jenkins didn't know where she had moved to, or what Ursula had done after leaving school.

"She's living here in Plymouth now," she said.

"Who is?"

"Ursula of course. I've seen her in the town centre on a few occasions. The last time was about a month ago. It would be difficult to miss her. She's head and shoulders taller than most men. I'm sorry I don't know where she lives or works though. If you live here, I'm sure you'll meet her eventually."

Later that evening I took out my laptop and searched for Ursula Walters, Plymouth, but could find no sign of her online presence, and, all options explored, I supposed that Mrs Jenkins was right. I would have to be patient.

***

In the weeks that followed I did not have time to dwell on Ursula. My days were full as I started to learn my new trade. In the evenings I took documents home to read. My first days back in Plymouth had been mostly spent alone but I had not felt lonely. I had no other classmates I wished to become reacquainted with, and I am by nature a loner, happy in my own company or that of a few good friends.

Nonetheless, when Sandy, the secretary I had met at my interview, asked me out for a drink at the end of my first week I was happy to accept. I was also missing male company. I had not screwed anybody for almost a year and that had been on a beach in Koh Yao in Thailand and had been rather nondescript. The only thing I remembered about it was that the sand had got everywhere.

Since then, my dildos, wand, and assorted toys had seen frequent and regular use and I had recently invested in a rechargeable battery-operated wand to replace my old mains-operated model. Two to three times a week I would strip myself naked, lie on my bed and masturbate whilst watching porn on my computer. It was whilst I was searching for porn online that I started to understand more about my sexuality. I enjoyed videos of straight sex, oral sex, sixty-nine, mutual masturbation, and women finishing men off using their hands.

One evening I chanced across a video of a woman punishing a man. She was a strict-looking, dark-haired woman, and whilst I watched she tied him down over a trestle and energetically and expertly applied a cane three dozen times to his exposed buttocks. By the time she had finished with him, his bum was traversed by multiple parallel crimson stripes with angry dark blue patches where the tip of the cane had bitten deeper into his flesh. He took his caning in comparative silence, but the sound of the cane and the wriggling and twitching of his round well-muscled arse was highly erotic and I brought myself to three very satisfying orgasms as I watched him suffer. I had discovered I had an interest in cp, and after that, It became part of my viewing repertoire.

***

At eight o'clock on Friday evening at the end of my first week at the laboratory, I met Sandy and a couple of her friends at a pub near the university. Her friends were both fellow administrative staff. One was a married lady who had worked late and left after one drink, and the other was a young lady called Carol who was more interested in pouring cider down her throat than having a conversation. Around half past nine Sandy's boyfriend, Colin, joined us. He was a nondescript individual who spent much of his time pawing Sandy, and soon I was contemplating making my excuses and going home.

It was just then that a tall blond man appeared at our table and sat down. He was casually but smartly dressed.

"Hi Colin," he said. "I haven't seen you for ages."

"Hi, Alan, how are you?"

As they chatted, I saw Alan watching me. After a few minutes of Colin and Alan talking, Sandy became bored and broke into their conversation and said something to Colin. That was when Alan turned to me and smiled.

"I'm Alan. And you are?"

"I'm Julia. I work in the chemistry department."

He was about to reply when a group of young men and women congregated around our table, and somebody called to him.

"Come on Alan, we're leaving. If you don't come now you can find your own way there. You've got five seconds to make your mind up."

For just a moment he appeared to hesitate but then he stood.

"I'm sorry I have to go, or I'll miss my lift. Have a good evening. Some other time maybe."

And then he was gone.

***

I met Alan again much sooner than I expected. I was sitting in Starbucks on Saturday morning the following week when he appeared at my table and sat down. It was only when he was sitting that he asked.

"May I join you?"

"It would appear you already have," I replied.

He laughed and revealed a set of perfect white teeth as his ice-blue eyes twinkled, and it was at that moment I decided that I wanted to go to bed with him. I didn't yet know whether I liked him, but at that moment I didn't care. I didn't believe he had met me by accident, which meant only one thing. He was a man, after all.

That morning I discovered that he was a physics teacher in a local school, that he was twenty-seven years old, and that he was born and bred in Plymouth. More importantly, he was unattached.

We talked for about twenty minutes, and then, just as I expected him to, he asked me to have a drink with him that evening.

I hesitated just enough not to appear overkeen, and then I accepted.

"I don't think I've got anything in my diary for this evening," I quipped.

I had not had a date for a year or more and was a little nervous. In the early evening, I spent some time getting ready, washed and dried my hair, and applied my makeup with care. I wore a floral blouse and a short red skirt which accentuated my curves and showed off my thighs to good effect.

We met in the pub where we had first fleetingly met.

He was sitting at a table waiting for me when I entered the bar. As he stood to greet me I saw a broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted man who looked after himself and kept himself fit.

The evening was a success and I found that I did indeed like him, and not just his body. If I had not liked him I would have taken him home, fucked him, and said goodbye. As it was I didn't want him to think I was too easy, so I let him walk me home, didn't invite him in, and settled for a gentlemanly and rather frustrating kiss on the cheek.

Then on Sunday, we went out for an Indian meal, I let him walk me home, invited him in, and then I fucked him, very imaginatively and very energetically. I didn't say goodbye and we became an item.

***

Over the next few weeks, we spent much of our time in bed. Alan had a beautiful body with a long, thick, cut penis with a large bulbous nob and the most perfect arse and thighs. His bum cheeks were tight muscular half-hemispheres, and his thighs were thick and well-developed. He was an excellent, considerate lover and soon learned what turned me on and how to provide me with good strong satisfying orgasms.

About six weeks into our relationship we started to experiment, and one evening I asked him if he had any fantasy he would like to play out. It was then that he told me he had always dreamt of being tied for sex. In return he asked me to tell him something that turned me on, but that I hadn't already told him. I was too embarrassed to tell him of my interest in spanking. Instead, I told him that I loved the sight of a well-formed male arse but omitted to tell him I liked to see it scored with a cane or other instrument of punishment. I did tell him that I would like him to talk dirty and describe, blow by blow, the intimate details of fucking another woman whilst fucking me.

Later that night he told me, in great detail, about how he fucked his ex, Alice, a redhead with a big bum who liked it doggy style and woke the street with her screams when she came.

The following day I went online and bought a set of wrist and ankle cuffs, and then had to impatiently wait for them to be delivered. They arrived on a Saturday morning and entered service the same afternoon.

He lay naked on the king-sized bed on his back, spreadeagled with his head on a pillow. His wrists and ankles were firmly bound to the four corners of the bed. His prick was hard and erect, pointing straight up toward the ceiling, but if he was hopeful of it receiving attention any time soon he was out of luck.

I stood naked at the bottom of the bed. My legs were spread wide with my feet planted firmly on the floor. As he watched, I put two fingers of my right hand between my lips and moistened them before reaching down to my sex and starting to rub. Over the next few minutes, I used my fingers, dildo, and wand to bring myself to several orgasms. The last of these was so powerful that when it hit I had difficulty remaining on my feet.

I wasn't finished. He watched me as I approached the side of the bed and looked down at him and spoke.

"You have work to do, Alan."

Behind him, the headboard stood up against the wall and I climbed onto the bed, straddled his face, and held onto the board with both hands before slowly lowering my pussy against his mouth and tightening my thighs around him.

I felt his tongue between the lips of my cunt and hard against my clitoris, and I raised myself ever so slightly to give him better access to my button and felt his tongue gently flicking against it. I came twice more, writhing in pleasure, grinding myself against him, and spreading my secretions over his nose. lips, and chin.

Finally, it was his turn and I turned and knelt beside him giving him a view of my arse as I started to work on him. First I lubricated his prick with my saliva which I dribbled on the head and then I took his thick, hard shaft between my thumb and adjacent finger and slowly started to rub him up and down. I was completely unhurried, stopping only occasionally to put more spit on his cock and keep it good and wet. As I slowly wanked him he started to groan until, after maybe ten minutes, he was groaning continuously and a little pre-cum was starting to appear around his meatus. I stopped, pinched the shaft below the glans, and waited.

"Not yet, Alan," I said before returning to my task.

I started in on him again, working slowly and deliberately and keeping him on the edge. Finally, after ten minutes of slow ecstatic torture, it was time for his release. He was groaning loudly, his abdominal muscles were straining, and his mushroom head was a deep purple colour when his shaft appeared to swell. I took him firmly in my fist and jerked him quickly to his climax. As he came I felt him rhythmically pumping in my palm and several jets of cum arced one after the other into the air, whilst behind me, I heard a long drawn-out moan of pleasure and relief.

***

After that, our sex life became even more varied, and we slowly added to our collection of toys. Spreader bars were followed by handcuffs gags, and several other restraints. Please don't misunderstand me, our sex life was not exclusively about bondage. Caviar is a very nice luxury food but even it would become boring if you ate it every day, The cuffs were reserved for the weekend when we had plenty of time.