Tied in a Tent by the River

It all started innocently, as these stories often do. But this is no mere story, dear reader, as truth is often stranger than fiction.

In the last hand of a Saturday night poker game with my buddies and a few too many beers, my friend Harold raised the stakes. "Whoever loses this hand has to go buy weed at the homeless camp tomorrow." I almost folded. No way, I thought. Way outside my comfort zone. But with a full-house and certainly my best hand of the night, I had to stay in. When Harold's ace-high boat beat mine, I immediately felt a cold sweat. The money I lost wasn't a concern, I'm a shitty poker player. I've never bought drugs in my life, let alone taken a stroll through the homeless camp. But a bet is a bet.

The next day, I psyched myself up for the task. Drugs are rampant down by the river where the tent encampment has grown into something more like its own city. This should be easy, right? I put a few hundred bucks in my wallet and made my way down toward the river.

It was a cool but sunny winter afternoon. The chill I felt as I crossed the footbridge and turned on to the riverwalk was partially from the breeze that cut through me, and more than a little fear for what I was about to do. I walked down the sidewalk along the river, passing the first few tents, each looking as if it could be my own camping tent. Hands in pockets, I tried to look casual, and I began to make quick eye contact with the few homeless people I passed. Their icy stares back at me did nothing to warm my fear, and I felt, more than ever before, like a fish out of water. I kept walking.

I didn't immediately see her when I heard the voice, but her words were clear and stopped me in my tracks. "You looking for someone?" I looked around, and quickly spotted her as she emerged from one of the tents, set a bit apart from the others. "I... " I stammered, and took a tentative step toward her. She gazed at me calmly with just the slightest smile. Though she bore some of the visible signs of homelessness and addiction, she was attractive in a rugged way, and I guessed her to be in her early 30s, or maybe late 20s with a hard life. In my unnerved state, I didn't fully absorb her appearance, but my eyes were drawn to her green and white athletic shirt, just a little grubby, black leggings that might have been yoga pants, and worn running shoes. In any other setting she might be coming back from a workout, but my first impression was that she probably slept in these clothes.

"You seem like you're looking for someone," she said, looking at me expectantly. I tried to clear my tunnel vision and regain some confidence. Time to do this and get out of here. "It's not as much 'someone' as 'some... thing'" I said, as if this would communicate exactly what I needed. "Ah," she said, and a long moment passed as she continued to look at me, her eyes moving down my body and back up to my face. Finally, she spoke up again. "So is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" That took me completely by surprise, and destroyed any confidence I had started building. "Wha..." I said, and I shoved my hands back into my pockets to figure out what she was talking about. And then I realized. "Oh, it's my wa..." I trailed off. Wallet. Don't say that out loud, that's dumb. My wallet, fat with cash. I'm going to get robbed.

She continued to regard me with a quizzical look. "Your wallet, I see" she said. Then, "Okay, so if not 'who' then 'what' are you looking for?" I'm sure my face had turned bright red at this point, and I became aware that some of the people I had passed were watching us. I had to take control of the situation. "Um, I'm looking for some mari... er, pot," I said, trying to keep my voice quiet but confident. "Oh, I see," she said. What was that expression on her face? Her piercing green eyes seemed to pierce straight through my eyes, into my soul. After a long moment of silence, she spoke up, casual but firm. "Okay, step into my office."

It happened fast, but with surprising grace. She took my hand as if we were old friends, and started walking the few steps to her tent. The warmth of her hand was the first sensation I registered, and it overcame any doubt I might have had about entering her tent. Of course, I said to myself, if she has drugs, they're in her tent, and we can get out of sight from the people watching us.

Once we were inside, she turned, brushing past me, and swiftly zipped the tent door closed. I stood, dumbfounded, trying to take in my surroundings. Hers was a medium-sized dome tent, not quite high enough for me to stand up straight, though her head was comfortably below the ceiling, Her few belongings were organized in tidy stack, and a red, worn sleeping bag lay across the floor on top of an inflatable camping pad.

Once finished with the door, she turned back toward me, and I tried to take in her appearance more fully, in the dim light of the tent. She was showing more tan, sun-kissed skin than one might ordinarily on such a cool day, and my theory that she slept in this outfit, and had perhaps just awoken, seemed solid. Standing closer to her now, I could see that the smooth, satiny finish of her athletic shirt was gently interrupted by just the slightest nipple protrusions, probably a function of the cold air and her skinny body frame. Her dirty-blond hair was in a loose pony tail.

"So," she said gazing at me with that penetrating stare, "you want to buy some weed." "Yes!" I said enthusiastically. This was actually going to work. "Okay," she said, "you can call me Gina. And you are?" "Kenny," I said, as some of the tension left my body. She paused for a moment, then seemed to come to a conclusion. "Close your eyes, and hold out your hands." I did nothing for a beat, trying to understand what she meant. "Why..." I started, but suddenly her finger was on my lips. "Shh, Kenny" she said, in a calming whisper, "Close your eyes. Trust me."

I took a long breath, and considered my options, then closed my eyes, and held out my hand, expectantly. "Both hands," she said, and I heard her step away and quickly rummage through her belongings. I thought to myself, Is this how it works? She's getting weed to sell me, but why can't I look?

So I stood there, eyes closed and palms outstretched, as she continued to rummage around the tent, and I began to feel even more calm. It was warmer in the tent than outside, and the lack of wind made it almost pleasant. I heard her step toward me again, and began to wonder how this transaction would take place. Would she put a bag of weed in my hand and I would somehow already know how much to pay? Perhaps this thought process was just distracting enough to prevent me from sensing what was about to happen. At that moment I felt metal on my wrists, and heard the "click." My eyes flew open. Handcuffs. She put handcuffs on me. Is she a cop? Did I just get busted the very first time I tried to buy pot?

I thought about running, but the tent was fully zipped closed. It would take time to figure out how to open it, handcuffed as I was. I thought about fighting. But she could easily have raised the alarm, and what would this look like to the people who might come running? Or what if she actually were a cop? She watched me do the math, as I came to the conclusion that I was temporarily stuck with my predicament. Then she spoke.

"Okay, Kenny listen carefully. I'm going to take that wad of cash in your wallet, and then we're going to find out if someone might be willing to pay to get you back. I'm guessing yes, judging by how you strolled right in here all confident and clueless. You're probably a big CEO or something, right? Or a genius inventor? No, don't tell me, I'll figure it out." She looked me up and down, and continued, "You're thinking about fighting your way out. Take your best shot, but we both know you don't have it in you. So, do what I tell you, and you won't get hurt. Understand?" "Wha..." I started, but she put her finger to my lips again, and whispered "shh." Then the finger became her whole hand, covering my mouth.

We stood there for a moment, my hands cuffed in front of me, Gina not quite touching my hands with her rail-thin body, her hand over my mouth. She finally spoke again. "Nod if you understand." I nodded. "Okay, good" she said, "Like I said, if you do what I tell you, I won't hurt you. If you try to mess with me, I'll fuck you up. I know how to take care of myself." And I had no doubts about that.

She took her hand off my mouth, and put on my shoulder, then started pressing down. I didn't understand why, and then she said simply, "On your knees." She said it firmly but quietly, and I immediately started to kneel down. Before I got to my knees, she pushed me a bit so that I ended up kneeling in the middle of the red sleeping bag. She moved around behind me, and started rummaging again through her belongings.

My mind raced. I'm being robbed, I thought to myself. So stupid, I should have known this would happen. But what did she say about getting someone to pay for me? Did she plan to keep me here as a hostage? The thought filled me with dread. I decided to take a chance and ask Gina what her intentions were. "Um, wha..." I got out, but she interrupted. "Keep quiet. Or I'll have to keep you quiet." The chilling threat overwhelmed me.

I heard her come back behind me, and kneel by my feet. I felt her tugging my shoes off. "Can't run without shoes," she said, "and also it helps me do this..." and I felt something go around my ankles. It was rope. She wound it around and between my ankles quickly, in a way that seemed well-practiced. Then she came around in front of me again. "Kenny, I'm going to take these handcuffs off," she said, and I felt tentative relief. "As soon as they're off, put your hands behind your back. Do you understand?" I slowly nodded. The key went in, and one by one, the cuffs came off, and she tossed the key aside. This is it, I thought, my last chance to run. I knew what would come next. Reluctantly, I put my hands behind my back. She sat there for a moment, looking into my eyes, that slight smile coming back to her face. She knew she had me. She got up and returned to kneeling behind me, and I was not surprised when she started tying my wrists together with a new length of rope. This process was quick and thorough as well, reaffirming my suspicion that she'd done this before. The rope went around and between my wrists, and as she tied a knot to hold the ends in place, I could tell it would be nearly impossible to get my hands free. She seemed to sense what I was thinking. "Yeah, there's no getting out of this now, Kenny." As if to accentuate her point, she tied another short rope between my wrists and ankles, preventing me from standing up. I felt completely humiliated, and I'm sure my face was bright red. I dropped my head in shame.

"Good, it seems like you've accepted your situation," Gina said. "Let's have a look at that wallet." She reached around me and put her hand in my front pocket, grabbing my wallet. As she pulled it out, her hand grazed the front of my pants, and we both realized at the same moment that I was pitching quite the tent of my own, tied up in Gina's tent. Still kneeling behind me, her voice was an amused whisper. "You're enjoying this? You little fuck." She laughed as she said this, and I heard my wallet drop to the tent floor. Her hand groped around the front of my pants, and found my hard cock, giving it a brief but vigorous rub. "You poor thing," she cooed in a gentle mocking voice, "small dick, you get off being tied up by a woman, and you've clearly never bought drugs before."

Gina's hands roamed around my chest and thighs for a moment, and despite myself, I let out a quiet moan. Her groping instantly stopped. "Quiet!" she snapped. "I'm going to have to gag you since you can't keep that mouth shut." She gave me a firm sideways shove on my shoulder, and I toppled to my side, my feet and wrists still joined by rope behind me. Gina got up and rummaged around again, coming back with what looked like a sock and another pair of leggings. I realized with dread what was about to happen. She knelt in front of my face, and stuffed the sock in my mouth. I steeled myself for it to taste awful, but it didn't really taste like anything, just dry cotton. The leggings were stretchy and she casually wrapped one of the legs over my mouth, and tied it in a knot behind my head.

Once she was done with that, Gina rested her hand on my shoulder and said, "Well, look at this pretty package, all tied up and gagged. I could do anything I want to you right now. And I don't even have to feel guilty about taking your money, because you like this!" And she gave the bulge in my pants a pat. And then a stroke. And another. "You are overdressed," she said after a pause, and then "take your pants off." This came out in the same firm tone of command she had used before. I tried to say, "I can't" and though it was muffled by the sock in my mouth, she seemed to understand. "Try," she said, "I'll wait."

I wriggled around on the tent floor a bit, trying to pull my pants down using my restrained hands. She watched me for a minute, amused and smiling, still sitting on the floor near my chest. As I made little progress, she finally reached down and unbuttoned my pants, and without missing a beat, slid her hand into my pants, gently taking hold of my cock through my underwear. I froze, and basked in the wonderful sensation of her warm hand slowly exploring my crotch through my thin boxer briefs. "Come on, keep working," she laughed and now that my pants were unbuttoned I was able, with some effort, to pull them down a few inches. "You're hopeless," she said, "I guess I tied you up too well, if that's even a thing." Then she grabbed with both hands and pulled my pants all the way down to my ankles. They would go no further, as the rope binding my ankles was in the way, but this did not seem to trouble her. She regarded me for a moment, as I lay there in my boxer briefs, pants around my feet. "Awful boxers, Kenny," she said, "Where did you get those, Target? Those have to go too." And with one smooth motion, my boxers were around my ankles as well, and I felt the cool humiliation of my cock sticking out like a handle, and my bare ass open to Gina's gaze.

After a moment, Gina stood up, and with one foot on my hip, stood looking down at me. "Well Kenny, here's where things stand," she said, "I got you into my tent, tied you up, took your wallet, and apparently that's all it takes to give you a raging boner. Now you're naked and shivering on the floor, hogtied with your dick out, my sock in your mouth and my pants holding it in place. Not bad for a few minutes' work, eh?" I mumbled into my makeshift gag in affirmation. She looked me over for a moment, then spoke up again. "I can't have your naked body freezing in here," she said, and started maneuvering me around by pulling my feet, then my shoulders, until I was on top of the unzipped sleeping bag, which she then zipped up around me. Despite the cool material against my bare skin, I started to warm up quickly. Gina stood watching me for a few moments, then said, "All wrapped up like a Christmas present. I could put a bow on you and invite some friends in here to see!" Then, with mock seriousness, "no, that won't do. I'm going to keep you for myself."

Gina circled around me, kneeling to watch from time to time as I struggled, tied up inside her sleeping bag. Just as I was starting to get quite warm, she reached down and unzipped the sleeping gab. "But what to do next..." she trailed off in thought, then started again. "Change of plans. I'm really enjoying seeing you all tied up like this, and watching you wiggle. I want to tie you up some more, keep that dick hard for a while, and then force you to cum. What do you think about that?" she said teasingly. "And then maybe I'll take your gag out and keep that mouth busy with something else." She winked.

She pulled out a few more lengths of rope, and went to work on me. She untied the rope connecting my wrists to my ankles, and let me straighten my legs. My pants and underwear came completely off at this point, thought I wasn't clear on how she got them past my bound ankles. Then she tied my legs together at the knees, and pushed me around to a sitting position with my legs in front of me.

Gina knelt behind me and pulled at my shirt a bit, finally pulling it up so it was still half-on, covering my head. She scooted closer behind me, and I felt her chest against my bare back, and could feel her gently start grinding her crotch against my bound hands. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could even feel her erect nipples through the thin fabric of her stretchy shirt. "Dad bod," she breathed into my ear as her hands explored my helpless body, "a little doughy but not bad. A few trips to the gym wouldn't kill you." She groped my chest with her hands, rubbing my nipples, sticking a finger in my belly button, finally down to my cock, which she rubbed rhythmically. This continued, her crotch grinding against me, her shirt hypnotically brushing up and down my back, her hands on my cock.

The passage of time seemed to slow; it might have gone on like this for 30 seconds, or five minutes, I'm not sure. But suddenly she stopped, and her hands found the rope around my wrists, which she began to untie with a stern warning, whispered in my ear: "keep those hands behind your back until I tell you." My shirt came all the way off, and she pulled my left hand around in front of me, wrapping several loops of rope around my wrist. She then wrapped the rope several times around my upper thigh, right below my crotch, effectively securing my hand to my upper thigh. This process was repeated with my right hand, which left me sitting up, my hands tied to my thighs, and my knees and ankles tied together. She surveyed her work, and decided that another length of rope was needed around my arms and torso. From my sitting position, she ran one hand through my hair, then grabbed a handful of hair and pulled me up to a kneeling position, bound ankles tucked under my legs, hands still tied to my upper thighs. It was not a very comfortable position, but I knew any protest would be futile. "You look ridiculous, and I love it," she whispered, "I've got you tied up so tight, you can't move a muscle."

She came back around behind me, her kneeling legs straddling my naked ass. She reached around me, and took hold of my cock firmly, almost but not quite painfully. As she stroked, she spoke from behind me in a husky whisper. "I'm going to force you to cum now. There's nothing you can do to stop me, but let's not pretend you would stop me if you could. Remember as I do this to you, that you're my hostage. I'm not doing this because you like it, I'm doing it because I like it, I'm doing this because you're my possession and I want to control every part of you." As she said these words and rubbed my cock faster and faster, I felt her shift behind me, and then all of a sudden there was a finger in my ass. I didn't like it, nor dislike it, but I felt completely owned. And that pushed me over the edge, as the most intense orgasm I ever experienced consumed my body from head to toe. The rubbing continued relentlessly, even painfully, as my body spasmed and bucked involuntarily, until finally my erection gave way.

We remained there for just a moment, feeling almost tender with one of her arms encircling my kneeling, bound body, the other hand still firmly planted between my ass cheeks. And then she was up, wiping me off with a towel and pushing me down from my kneeling position on to my back. She then sat on my chest, straddling my body, and looked into my eyes. As she had foreshadowed, she was soon in the process of untying the leggings from around me head, and extracting the sock gag.