The Art of Shibari

"You sure you wanna get out, miss?"

"It's not like it's going to get any better," Angela grumbled.

The bus door swished open and she ducked out, her notebook over her head to block the rain. An hour ago when she had left home, it was dry. Half an hour ago when she realized she had left her swipe card and keys at home, it had only been threatening. Now, it was raining. Fortunately, it was only five quick minutes to the house she was renting with her friends. Unfortunately, no sooner had the bus pulled away than the skies really opened up. She dashed down the sidewalk, getting drenched in the process. The rain was coming down so hard it was literally bouncing off the sidewalk. She ducked under a tree for shelter, but all the tree did was slow the rain down. Resigned, she dashed back out into the downpour and gave a silent prayer that someone was still home. Focused on dodging puddles, out of the corner of her eye she saw a green car go by. Kate stop!

Finally she reached her door only to find it locked. Worse, their house did not have a porch to shelter under. She futilely rang the doorbell as the rain poured down upon her, praying Kelly had slept in. Giving up, she ran to the back, splashing through puddles in the lawn. She rooted around the patio for the key that was supposed to be stashed there, coming up empty. Worse, the wind was pushing the rain in from the rear of the house, so she ran back to the front and huddled by the door, frantically trying to come up with a plan that didn't involve getting rained on for the next ten hours.

"Hey, girl!" she heard through the downpour.

Her head snapped up and she saw the neighbor from across the street, Adam, motioning to her. She lowered her head and charged, gratefully ducking into his house, drenched notebook still above her head.

"Thanks," she panted.

"Goodness, you're soaked," he said. "Come along, quickly."

He led her through his house, wet footprints in her wake, and ushered her into the bathroom.

"Any port in a storm, huh? Let me get you some towels."

She stepped in and caught a glance of herself in the mirror, utterly soaked. At least she was wearing a baggy blue overshirt and not a white one. Moments later he returned with an armful of towels, which she accepted gratefully. Adam was an older man, maybe even older than her father, who lived alone now that his wife had passed away. There was still evidence of his wife's touch in the flower patterns on the towels.

Closing the door he left her alone. Angela took stock of herself, noting the water was pooling around her. She wondered if she could have been wetter from jumping in a pool. Pulling out her phone her heart sank as the screen flickered off. She placed it on the sink and stripped off her overshirt and tee and wrung them out in the tub. Pausing for a moment as she reached for her jeans, feeling a mite uncomfortable stripping in a stranger's house. A glance around found nothing alarming, so she started to wriggle out of her jeans until a knock on the door startled her.

"Hey, I think my daughter left some stuff in the back room. You might find something to wear, last door on the left."

Calling out thanks, she calmed her thundering heart and turned her attention back to her jeans. Soaked, they stubbornly stuck to her legs as she tried to peel them off. Finally she sat on the edge of the tub to get them off. She paused again and looked around, debating on whether she should take off her bra and panties. Her bra was padded and even that had become saturated so she took a deep breath and removed it, followed by her panties. She wrung them out as best she could before putting them back on, cold and damp. Sadly, there was no hair dryer, so she settled for towel drying her hair. She finished, noting her head now looked like a rat's nest, and wrapping it in a towel. Wrapping herself in two towels, she took a deep breath before cracking open the door and cautiously peeking her head out. Seeing no one, she padded out into the hallway in search of his daughter's room. Feeling awkward, wearing only towels over her lingerie in a stranger's house, but she didn't really have a choice.

Entering a room, she found it sparsely furnished with ropes and climbing gear. Realizing she was in the wrong room, she tried the other room and found some clothes. She had met his daughter, a mother who was much larger than Angela, a few weeks earlier when she was visiting. Luck was with Angela, and she found an oversized t-shirt, sweats and a fluffy pink robe. She got dressed and padded back out wrapped in the robe for warmth. She found him in the kitchen at the far end of the house.

"Hey, thanks for rescuing me," she called out.

"Looked like you were in a bind. Coffee?"

"Sure. Do you have a hair dryer?"

"No, sorry, not much hair for me to dry. If you want the clothes dryer it's upstairs."

Ten minutes later, her clothes were in the dryer, she'd had even tossed in her underwear. Now she was sitting on his couch with a coffee, feeling out of place in a strange house dressed in a fluffy robe over borrowed clothes, talking with a well-dressed man. He had taken her phone and shortly reemerged with it embedded in a canister of rice.

"Well, hopefully this will save your phone. Leave it in there until tonight, at least."

"Thanks. Thank you so much."

"I'd offer you a drink but you're too young."

"Oh, no, I'm 23."

The look on his face told her he didn't believe her, "No really, I'm 23. I'm in my last year of my Master's program. No, really, I'm 23, but the coffee is fine. Nice."

She relaxed as they got to talking while he stood behind an elevated table and worked on Japanese calligraphy, practicing painting symbols on paper scrolls. He regaled her with tales of his trips to Japan and other Asian destinations. She had always wanted to travel, but hadn't yet found the time or the money, he mentioned he was going to Yosemite.

"Oh, is that where you're going to use your climbing gear?" A glance indicated he didn't understand her question. "Your climbing gear, I went into the wrong room and saw your ropes and stuff for climbing."

"Ah, yes. The wrong room indeed. No, those are not for climbing."

"Then what?"

His eyes slowly locked into hers, "I use them to tie up women."

Angela swallowed as her blood ran cold, his answer echoing in her head. She was practically naked in his house, no one knew she was here, her phone didn't work. She could feel the color flee from her face as her eyes widened.

"Does that offend you, Miss Angela?"

"Do you...," she started, surprising herself with how squeaky her voice was, "Let them go?"

A wry smile formed on his lips, "Yes, eventually."

* * * * *

Angela tossed again in her bed, unable to sleep, the words echoing over and over in her mind.

I tie women up.

He had said it so frankly, no hint of a self-aggrandizing boast.

I tie women up.

God, her body was on fire. She once had a boyfriend who had tied her wrists together and she loved it, but they were just playing. Adam had...ropes, lots of ropes, a room dedicated to ropes, and presumably he knew how to use them. She crept out of bed again and peeked through her window at his house, the lights in the room with the ropes still off. How many women did he tie up? Did he have a girlfriend? What did he do with them once he tied them up? Well, she was certain she knew what he would do, but still. Hours bled by, restless and bothered. Distracted at school.

I tie women up.

Her mind formed fantasies of her helpless, struggling as he touched her. She had to avert her eyes as she walked by his house. Deliriously fingering herself in bed.

I tie women up.

It was almost too much for her to handle.

Angela trembled as she walked up his driveway with his rice canister. Her insides were jellified.

I tie women up.

She rang his doorbell and waited in anticipation.

"Angela, what a pleasant surprise. Please come in."

"Hi, I wanted to return your canister," she said as she cautiously peeked around as if afraid of being attacked by a rope monster.

"Thank you, and I have a small gift for you," he said as he turned and walked to the table, returning with a book wrapped in gold paper.

"Oh, that's totally unnecessary," she said smiling even as she took the book.

"Enjoy your weekend," he smiled politely.

Angela returned home and opened her gift in the living room. She let out an involuntary whimper as she saw its contents: 'The Art of Shibari.' She flipped to the first picture, a woman on her knees in a forest, bound with ropes. She raced up to her room and in no time was naked and fingering herself, eyes glued to picture after picture as she pleasured herself.

Weeks peeled by, she read the book from cover to cover several times. She was beyond obsessed, it'd become such a focus that she had even tried taking the book to her office at school and hiding it there to avoid the temptation of looking at it. All that accomplished was a masturbation session in the restroom at school. She walked by his house daily, glancing at the room with the ropes, wondering how often it was used. She had thought about the situation over and over. Adam seemed like a nice guy, even if he was way older than her. His daughter seemed nice and normal, he lived in a nice, neat house in an expensive neighborhood, and he tied women up. Angela knew what she wanted, she wanted to be bound like those women in the book.

"Angela, what a pleasant surprise. Please come in."

"Thanks, I, um...," she fumbled, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Coffee?"

"Sure," she smiled weakly, taking a seat on his couch.

He served her and then sat on the chair across from her, his eyes appraising her silently over the rim of his cup. After taking a sip, he put his cup down and leaned back, still looking at her. The silence became unbearable.

"I read your book," she blurted.

"Yes."

She looked at him with begging eyes, wishing she could communicate her desires to him by her stare. It was not to be.

"I want to do that."

He nodded and took another sip, his face impassive. For a moment she wondered if he had even heard her.

"It's a big step. Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Arrangements will need to be made. Come over tomorrow for dinner at seven. We'll discuss it then."

Angela found herself nodding, he broke the awkward silence by talking about the new building the university was opening next week. She nodded again, her mind a million miles away as they finished their coffees.

The next night she checked herself in the mirror for the hundredth time. She wasn't sure what was planned or how to dress. Was this a date? Was he going to tie her up and ravish her? Did she even want to be ravished? She had no idea, she settled on a nice blouse and skirt, evaded her housemates, and went over to his place.

He'd prepared a marvelous meal of seafood pasta with wine. The room was well lit. It was the strangest first date she had ever been on as they discussed her desires, her sexual experiences and what she expected to get out of the session.

"Miss Angela, let me clearly state my case. You have certain desires, and I have certain skills. I believe I can give you what you desire, but the contours of the human heart are difficult to discern."

"I understand."

"You understand that you will be helpless."

"Yes," she gulped.

"And you will be naked."

She nodded her consent, but his gaze indicated she needed to answer, "Yes."

"And I will need to touch you."

"Yes."

"And I will release you when it is time."

"Yes."

"We will take pictures, the pictures are only for you, they will not be displayed unless you so desire. "

Angela swallowed in apprehension at the thought of being photographed.

"Do...do we need to take pictures?"

"Of course we do not need to take pictures, but it would be a shame to not to immortalize the moment."

"I'm like...no model..."

Adam chuckled lightly, "Miss Angela, if there one thing I know about women, it is how awful they are at properly assessing how beautiful they are. You, Miss Angela, are beautiful."

"Thank you," she blushed and lowered her eyes.

"Any questions for me?"

"Do I um...get a safe word?"

"No. No safe word. This is not some BDSM fantasy, I am not going to torture you. I am only going to make you into an exquisite piece of art. Just a first experience to see how things go. If I am hurting you at all, just tell me, ouch will be your safe word. If you're looking for pain, well, I may not be the right match for you."

She nodded quietly.

"I suggest you think about our discussion tonight over the next few days. If you wish to continue..." he paused and produced a small envelope card. "Please reply by Monday."

"Oh, I definitely want to continue."

He smiled gently at her, "Miss Angela, I believe I may have mentioned that I do things a little different. I will not allow you to make such a decision after imbibing alcohol. I should note that you will not be imbibing during the event either. Take the card, think it over, let me know."

His eyes were calm and focused, and Angela felt like she would melt under his gaze. She was wobbly as he walked her out, and not from the wine. She went to her room and collapsed on her bed in a confused, horny mess. She opened the envelope, inside was a card embossed with gold lettering.

You are Invited to a Special

Shibari Event

Featuring Model Angela Tatum

Your RSVP is Requested

She shoved her hand under her skirt and in no time was racing to an orgasm.

* * * * *

Angela appraised herself one last time in his bathroom mirror, trembling in anticipation. The night had finally arrived, and she had prepared herself as he had asked, cleanly shaven, skin anointed with the scented oil he had given her. She had also avoided touching herself over the last four days making her body tight with sexual tension. Wrapping a towel around her nude body, she left the bathroom.

Angela nodded weakly to him as she padded into the room. Soft gentle music and a sweet aroma of wood and nature filled the air. The table in the middle of the room, covered in a quilt, dominated her attention. He helped her up, her stomach full of butterflies, and she laid down on her belly. She was amazed at how accommodating of her modesty he was being, since soon every last millimeter of her body was going to be exposed to him. She helped him arrange the towel so that it was only draped over her back, and he began.

He started with her hands, crossing her wrists and binding them together with a soft red silk scarf. She slipped into a fog as he continued with rope, her left leg getting folded in half, ankle tied to her upper thigh, her right foot bound to her left knee. Working in silence, he left her alone with her thoughts. Ribbons gently braided into her hair and tied off, her arms rebound behind her, hands to opposite elbow, with loop after loop of rope along her forearms. He tied her legs, arms and hair together to a center knot, causing her body to bow up. The towel pulled from her body, leaving her completely bare, followed by more loops around her waist.

She didn't even notice he had stopped until she felt herself being lifted off the table. Through her haze she noticed him pulling a rope, lifting her up into the air. The bindings were tight but well tied, distributing her weight so that no part of her body was uncomfortable. She tilted forward slightly, her head a bit lower than her body, forced to face forward. He looked her over then added a rope around the back of her neck, braiding it around her body, passing it around her breasts and down to her thighs. On occasion he would brush her skin just so, causing her to twitch. Angela was a quivering mess, her mind lost as she hung in the air. Finally, he added a rope that passed down from her breasts to between her most delicate folds, and tied it off above her. She was completely immobilized, unable to even turn her head. He brought out a large mirror and placed it before her, allowing her to see what she looked like, naked and helpless. She stared at the girl in the reflection, encased and yet displayed in red and black ropes, an almost drunken look of bliss on her face. Two locks of hair hung down, framing her face.

A camera was brought out and affixed to a tripod. The harsh snap of the shutter coincided with the flash, capturing her for immortality. He moved around, catching her from all angles. She hadn't even noticed he had left the room when a voice interrupted her moment, a man's voice, not Adam's.

She jerked in shock as a group of men entered the room. Immobilized as she was, she couldn't turn or hide. She squealed in panic, instinctively trying to get away. All her thrashing accomplished was imparting momentum to her suspended body, causing her to swing and rotate around. The men, three of them plus Adam, casually walked up the table below her with chairs and took a seat. She cried out, terrified that they were so close, futilely flexing in her bonds. All she could move were her eyes, wide and terrified. She was so shocked she wasn't even sure what to say.

They seemed to regard her with detached amusement. Cards were produced, as were chips. She was positioned so that her face was just above theirs. The men split their attention between their cards and her, looking at every exposed inch of her body as she squirmed. She had been so focused on getting away she hadn't noticed at first: the crotch rope was transmitting all her struggles directly between her legs to her most sensitive spot. The shutter crashed again with a flash. Finally her situation sank in and she stopped struggling, tears of humiliation dripping from her face.

"There, there," Adam smiled gently, his demeanor wildly out of place with the situation.

He held her chin gently as he dabbed her cheeks dry, and then held the tissue to her nose and had her clear it. It was the last acknowledgement of her presence. It was utterly surreal, her naked body on display for four men, three whom she had never met, as they alternated between studying their cards and her. She was still rotating slowly, a product of her earlier struggles. The motion brought her close to each of the men's face in turn, only a foot away as they looked into her very soul. She was completely exposed to them, just a naked girl on display, like a...piece of art. The periodic flash of a picture captured the scene of her humiliation.

Angela lost track of time, her mind floating free in the ether as she swung above them, trying to stay still to avoid any more vibrations of the rope between her legs. It was like she was in a dream, floating above the card game utterly helpless. Conscious, alert, completely turned on, but only able to see. She wondered if she should say something, but at this point that seemed somewhat pointless. And what would she say? She drifted back into her surreal dream world, wondering what would happen next. Perhaps they would lower her, tie her down and take turns with her. Is that what she wanted? Complete with pictures to capture her degradation? Her thoughts took darker turns, reflecting the fantasies she had while she masturbated to those pictures. Being helpless, being used. God, why weren't they touching her? Her hands were bound, she couldn't take care of it herself.

She started to squirm, feeling the rope between her legs rub her gently. The fact that she was essentially masturbating in front of four men no longer mattered. They carried on their idle conversation below her, all but ignoring her. Occasionally one would look up from his cards to study her face. She willed them to reach out and touch her, to caress her skin, to fondle a nipple, but they didn't. Through the haze in her mind she noted the cards were being collected, the chips put away. The men stood and shook hands then Angela watched them leave through her peripheral vision. Alone in the room, the camera clicked again.