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Archive-name: Bondage/bonus.txt

Archive-author: Snidley

Archive-title: Small Bonus, A





   I had been retained through a consulting firm to advise a small, but 

 very lucrative, corporation through a complicated problem. The complications 

 could have cost this business well into the multi-million dollar range 

 had I not sucseeded in the endeavor. After some long hours of hard work 

 I was ultimately able to accomplish our goal. The owner of this little 

 company, (I'll use fictitious names in this narrative for modesty's sake 

 as well as clarity) Joan Sumpter, was certainly a unique individual. She 

 and I spent a great deal of time together over the months of my employment. 

 Working virtually hand in hand, we had gotten to know each other rather well.

 For all intents and purposes She appeared to be a brash, impetus woman to 

 most people. However, as she and I got to know each other over time, most 

 of this turned out to be a facade. In her business persona, she may have 

 seemed like a bit like a shark to some, but outside that arena I found her 

 to be a charming, intelligent woman.

   Due to the pressure that was on both of us, there were many times our 

 work sessions would digress into a montage of repartee that often could 

 become downright obscene. Kinky talk, innuendo, double-entendre and 

 scurrilous jokes all seemed to help break the tension of our labor. At 

 first, I figured that she was just coming on to me a bit, merely some 

 innocent flirtation, because at other times she spoke in glowing terms 

 about her artist husband of 10 years. A little confusing for me, but I 

 finally decided that, although there were times she could be overbearing

 to the point of being obnoxious, she was a pretty special woman who was 

 already involved in a loving relationship and really had a lot going for 

 her. I really came to like her.

    Shortly after our deadline was met, She invited me to come to her home 

 for dinner to celebrate. I took this as a tremendous compliment because 

 in my dealing with a great many of her associates, I had never met any 

 who had been invited to her home. It was a bit of a mystery to all her 

 colleagues, many wondered just what her lifestyle was like outside  

 work. Or indeed if she even HAD a lifestyle outside of her business. At 

 the time, I had assumed that her crack about "Leave your inhibitions at 

 home..." was simply one of her frivolous remarks. When I responded that 

 I didn't have any inhibitions, she merely smirked over her shoulder at 

 me. "We'll see..." she said. It turned out to be quite a test...

 

   I used the big brass door knockers on the impressive oak front doors. 

 After a short pause there was a rustling sound from the other side, 

 someone fumbling with the knob no doubt. As the door mysteriously 

 pulled back away from me, a grand foyer was slowly revealed. Surprised 

 that there was no one to greet me, I was a little unsure of what 

 etiquette dictated under these circumstances. Deciding that the door 

 had indeed opened for a reason, I hesitantly stepped inside the stately 

 home.

   I detected a light "clinking" sound as the door began to close behind 

 me as soon as I had cleared it's path. I hopped back, out of the way. I 

 couldn't help but think that something was not right here! It took just 

 a moment before I discovered the cause for my uneasiness. A burning wave 

 of adrenalin rolled down my spine as it became apparent what was 

 powering the mysterious door. I tried to take it all in, to be as 

 observant as my vocation demanded, but my cognition was disjointed and 

 slow in coming. 

   A girl. She was small, about 5'4", not much more then 100 pounds. In 

 her early twenties I surmised. She pushed at the door awkwardly with 

 her back and bottom, walking backwards. Her hands seemingly held the 

 door latch which appeared to be pressing into the small of her back. 

 She didn't even look up at me as she concentrated on carefully shutting 

 the door. My mind continued to reel as more observations became 

 apparent. She was blonde, her hair pulled back into a concealed French 

 braid. I decided she was dressed somewhat distinctively. She wore a 

 slim beige skirt that just brushed the top of her knees. A dark green 

 wool sweater with a V-neck snugly hugged her distinctly feminine 

 features. The outfit seemed to have a uniform-ish quality to it because 

 a white shirt and a bright red, man's style necktie peeked out from 

 under the sweater. Some of the smaller details emerged in the seconds 

 that it took for her to close the door. Her white shirt had the those

 little tabs on the collar, buttoned tightly under her tie knot. These 

 tabs caused her tie to stand out a bit more prominently and made the 

 collar form fit snugly around her supple neck. A small brass name plate 

 was pinned to her sweater, on her left breast. I couldn't read it at that

 moment. The door thumped closed.

   My mind had tried to deny the obvious, I was sure that it was playing 

 tricks on me, as it surly had from the second the door had opened. It 

 couldn't be, but as this strange girl looked up into my face and our 

 eyes met for the first time, there could be no question, no mistake. 

 Her big blue eyes gleamed up at me, over the tape. White tape, lots of 

 white tape covered her mouth. She was gagged. Her hands remained behind 

 her back as she stepped towards me. A thin chain rustled between her 

 dainty ankles as she approached with an unmistakable high heeled grace. 

 Suddenly fear took over my senses. Who could have done this to this 

 poor girl? Were there criminals in the house who had cruelly bound and 

 gagged this poor waif? Were they, even now, planning unspeakable things 

 to do to her? I looked back into her eyes. Why didn't she appear 

 frightened? She seemed a bit surprised to see me, but her eyes sparkled 

 with such expression... There was such a unmistakable aura of 

 friendliness, of welcome, that I was inexplicably at ease once again. 

   My eyes were drawn back downward to her mouth. Or rather, the tape 

 covering her mouth. It was made up of four or five pieces of white 

 adhesive tape that crisscrossed and covered her entire lower face, from 

 just under her nose to the tip of her chin. Her chin seemed unnaturally 

 long before I realized that under the tape her mouth was stretched wide 

 open. Two wide, black leather straps passed around to the back of her 

 head giving a clue as to the reason for her open mouth. They exited 

 from underneath the tape where it ended just to the front of her ears. 

 Feeling stupid for not noticing it before, I realized that there was 

 writing on the tape. Upon examining it more closely, I discerned it was 

 written in flowing, feminine script. It said simply:

	"Welcome to the Sumpter home.  May I take your coat?"

   The writing on the tape reminded me of the of the nameplate on this 

 mysterious girl's chest, perhaps that could give me a clue. I glanced 

 down at it. Etched cleanly in the brass in large block letters was:

	"Yvette"  and under the name, in smaller scroll print: "Slave"

 I suppose that it was natural, but my eyes wandered from the name plate 

 to the sweet line of the breast that it was pined to. These beautiful 

 breasts stirred ever so slightly on each breath she took, rising and 

 falling, stretching and pulling the supple wool embrace of her sweater. 

 I felt my face flush when I realized that my eyes had lingered a moment 

 too long on one of her more personal attributes. When I glanced up into 

 those mysterious eyes once again, I was amazed because her expression 

 indicated a coy pleasure in my admiration, rather then the almost 

 universal look of disdain that I was accustom to. She looked at me 

 steadily for a long moment and then leaned forward, pushing her chin 

 slightly out to me. My first thought was that she wanted to kiss me, 

 (Silly me... :^) but her eyes turned casually up and away, she was 

 attempting to make the writing on her lips more evident. It seemed almost

 as if she was speaking the words on the tape. As I looked on dumbly she

 turned her back to me and bent forward, raising her pinioned wrists to me.

 She wore handcuffs. 

    Now, although I would never have claimed to be an expert at such 

 things, I had seen handcuffs before. I'd even worn them once or twice 

 in my rowdier days. The cuffs I had seen were different then the ones 

 that adorned her dainty wrists. I was accustomed to a chain between the 

 cuffs. Short, stout, unyielding, but a chain. These cuffs had no chain. 

 The two cuffs were linked directly at their base by a hinge type of 

 contrivance. Her wrists were held parallel to each other with only a 

 slight "V"ish in-out movement possible. Escape seemed impossible. 

 Indeed, it was impossible.

    An amused voice broke the silence. I had no idea Joan Sumpter had 

 been watching. "She wants to take your coat, you know?" Joan said as she 

 approached, smiling. "I did say that you should leave your inhibitions 

 at home. Now didn't I?" I was on auto-pilot as I shrugged off my coat and 

 dropped it over the outstretched arms along with my scarf. The girl 

 turned back around to face me, keeping her arms raised as high as she 

 could so my coat would not drag on the floor. Her shoulders were back 

 and her chest out straining the limitations of her sweater. Joan 

 sauntered up behind the girl and casually put her arm around her 

 shoulders. As Joan nonchalantly played with the girl's clothing, 

 picking imaginary lint from her sweater and casually adjusting the 

 dimple in her necktie, she began to explain their unique relationship. 





	To be continued...  





  Joan explained that she and her husband enjoyed keeping several such 

"domestics". Each from a various backround, the servants came to their

employment with various objectives. Yvette, for example was a student.

She was studying dramatic arts at a nearby collage. The Sumpters

provided her with her tuition, room and board and enough time off every 

weekday to attend class. All those benefits in exchange for absolute, 

unquestioning, frequently bound'n'gagged servitude the remainder of the 

time. Yvette listened patiently to this exposition and when Joan was 

done, looked up at me and shrugged her shoulders as if to say "Would 

you pass up a deal like that?" Joan chuckled and then continued on 

telling me how Yvette ultimately did enjoy all these trappings. Yvette

tossed her head back haughtily and then humphed airily. "Who me?" Joan 

said, clarifying Yvette's little pantomime. Joan leaned forward and gave 

Yvette a kiss on the cheek then shooed her off with a swat on the bum 

and an order to have herself "fixed up" so she could help serve the 

hors d'oeuvres. As Yvette tried to squeeze between us she brushed 

against me, her breasts lightly touching my arm. After Yvette departed, 

Joan went on to explain that all of her "Helpers" were with her for 

different reasons, but, that they all shared their one common interest. 

"If you catch my meaning..." she said. It was difficult not to.

  I followed Joan down a hallway as she graciously elaborated on what I 

was about to observe. She had kept "Pets" as she put it, for many years. 

She had always loved being a boss, in total control. Domineering as it 

were. Before she had met and fell in love with her husband, she had 

assumed that she would go through life like that. Once they were 

married she had tried to forget what she had become accustom to, to 

deny it. She tried to put it behind her, and concentrate on their 50-50 

relationship, but it just didn't seem to work out. "Besides," she said 

with a smile, "I'm not a very good housekeeper." So after several 

unhappy months she confessed her desires to her husband. At first, she 

said, he was reluctant, but grudgingly accepted a trial run. "After a 

while, the idea did seem to grow on him." She said that as she got to 

know me she began to get the impression that I might enjoy her little 

diversions. As she was trying to think of a way to thank me for all I 

had done, it became more and more apparent to her that this would be a 

perfect show of thanks. Certainly better then a case of scotch. I just 

wasn't sure I was up to all this...

  We entered a large living room. I glanced around at the formal room 

and the guests who chatted pleasantly. Two men and a woman were seated 

on two couches. Another girl, statuesque and strong stood nearby. As 

Joan and I entered the room the tall girl hurried over to us as fast as 

her hobbled stride would carry her. This girl wore a maid's uniform, 

stylized to say the least. The frilly trim on the edges of black satin 

uniform was a joy to behold. Lace circled the hem of the ballooning 

skirt and starched petticoats peeked out from underneath. A gigantic 

white apron edged in ruffles ran from her hem to her shoulders but left 

exposed the plunging neckline of her dress. The apron was tied in back 

with a big stiff bow. The girl's ample bosom threatened to spill out of 

the front of her uniform at any moment. Around her neck was a tight, 

stiff, starched white collar and a floppy red bow tie. The back of her 

collar seemed to go down under the back of her dress. There was a brass 

name-tag pinned on her apron and I read it as she approached. It said: 

  			"BABETTE   Slave"

  It was then that Joan explained how Babette had been one of her 

biggest challenges. Joan turned to reach down onto a nearby coffee 

table and picked up a small, aged, photograph in a frame and showed it 

to me. The picture was of a biker woman, leather jacket, torn jeans, 

boots, the works. Joan explained that Babette had come to her with a 

dilemma: she just wasn't happy with the way her life was going and she 

wanted to make a little change. Joan said she had been eager to help 

this lost girl, although perhaps the change was a little more drastic 

then Babette originally bargained on. "Babette here, hadn't even worn a 

skirt in over 14 years." Joan said as she carefully placed the photo 

back on to the coffee table. "She came in jeans and work boots one day 

and was wearing petticoats and 5 inch heels the next." I glanced down 

at the black patent ankle strap pumps that were locked on her feet and 

they seemed to be even higher then that! A red rubber ball was wedged 

tightly in her mouth secured with a black leather strap. Even that 

strap was trimmed with pretty white lace. 

  Babette offered me an hors d'oeuvre from the odd tray she was 

carrying. The tray was attached to two curved bars that were in turn 

attached to pivots, one on either hip. These pivots were anchored to a 

hard looking belt, buckled around her waist. The two bars continued up 

behind her where they came together into a handle of sorts. The handle 

just hung in the air at the moment. I took one of the hors d'oeuvres to 

be polite and then Joan motioned her away. As Babette turned I was 

surprised to see that she had no arms, or rather, her dress had no 

armholes or sleeves. After my little meeting with Yvette, I had assumed 

that her arms had been tied somehow behind her, but I had been slightly 

mistaken. There was a bulge in the back of her dress and it appeared 

that her arms were somehow folded behind her and her dress was then 

pulled up over her arms to her shoulders. There were lace patches where 

there could have been arm holes, but they were only decorative.

  Joan graciously offered me a drink, and by this point I really needed 

one. So we went up to the bar. My final surprise was there. Clarette. A 

buxom little brunette, she was dressed almost identically with Yvette, 

the only difference was that she had a blue pullover sweater vest in 

place of the long sleeve sweater Yvette wore. Clarette stood at 

attention behind the bar as we approached. A light chain was visible 

running from an unseen spot behind her up to the ceiling where it was 

securely anchored to a metal ring directly above her head. As she 

turned to face us, the inscription on her tape covered lips became 

apparent: "Your Pleasure?" "Scotch on the rocks." I replied because I 

really wanted it by then. Clarette pivoted on her high heels and 

reached awkwardly for a glass. The chain in the ceiling ran to a 

leather strap that pinned her elbows together behind her back. A thin 

chain ran from one wrist cuff to the other across the front of her 

belly With effort, she was able to reach the glass with her fettered 

hand and set it in front of me. She carefully filled the glass with ice 

as I marveled at her bound dexterity. Finally with a twist of her wrist 

the glass filled with scotch. It may have taken a few moments, but it 

was well-worth the wait. I quaffed the scotch and put the glass down, 

sending Clarette into her gyrations again. I couldn't help but be 

amazed at her grace. 

  A side door opened and Yvette entered. Someone had attached the same 

type of tray that Babette wore to her hips as well as a small white 

apron to protect her skirt. A woman walked behind her with her hands on 

Yvette's shoulders "steering" her into the room. Joan motioned Yvette 

over to the bar, while the woman joined the others by the couch. 

"Another round for our guests." She informed Yvette. With that, 

Clarette began setting out several glasses and started mixing the 

beverages. While Joan was busy straightening Yvette's tie again, ("I 

just can't abide sloppy knots..." she informed me with a little wink.) 

I watched Clarette as she went about her business. As she finished each 

drink she hung the glass in a wire rack next to the bar. After Joan was 

satisfied with Yvette's presentablity, Yvette went to the wire rack and 

guided the tray under the glasses. Although her hands were still 

securely cuffed behind her back, she used the handle on the bar behind 

her back to act as a counterweight and it helped position her tray to 

lift the glasses out of rack. Amazing. Talent, skill, practice?... 

Yvette then headed over to the party with a tray load of drinks 

carefully avoiding any spills by manipulating the tray handle. She 

curtsied to the guests and it was difficult to tell whether or not the 

guests were happy to see her because they were thirsty, or whether they 

just needed a new bum to pinch.

  Joan took a few moments to introduce me around. Lawrence, her husband 

was a painter and photographer, A tall man with lanky features and 

graying hair. "Call me Larry" He said. George was the dumpy little man 

who sat on the couch, He was slightly balding, and to me, didn't seem 

to have very much going for him. When we shook hands he seemed a bit 

like a wet fish. The other two women were "Companions" of Joan's. Rose 

was an older woman, one who was probably very attractive one day, but 

now she just looked kind of "hard". She seemed nice enough, however. 

Elaine was the other woman. She could have been your next door 

neighbor. The one you borrow a cup of sugar from. Nice, but not really 

very interesting.

  After some small talk, more hors d'oeuvres from Babette's tray and 

another round of drink's from Yvette's I was really getting into the 

spirit of things. All three "slaves" seemed to be honestly enjoying

their chores, with only Babette getting a bit cantankerous whenever 

someone had the audacity to lift her skirt. You almost couldn't resist 

the temptation. Joan excused herself after a while and went behind the 

bar and I saw her unclip the chain hanging from the ceiling to Clarette's 

elbow strap. The two girls then disappeared into the kitchen. I began to 

become aware that when Yvette was not waiting on anyone, she would 

always return to a place at my side. She would stand at attention 

there, waiting to be of service. Babette was more retiring, showing the 

same discipline, but back away from the group. Although I tried to be 

nonchalant, I couldn't help but glace up at Yvette a couple of times. 

She was simply lovely. I thought I caught her eyes snap away from me 

each time I looked up, but I could have been mistaken. After a while, 

Clarette entered the room. Her hands were switched behind her back and 

now, she too, wore a tray and a new tape message: "Dinner is served." 



	To be continued...



-- 



  The guests all retired to the dining room and the three servant girls 

made a beeline to the kitchen. After we were seated, Joan joined us and 

took her place at one end of the table. Her husband was seated at the 

other end and the four guests filled in between. Joan rang a small bell 

and the parade began. Clarette, Yvette then Babette entered in turn 

each carrying a tray load of food. The tape had been removed from both 

Yvette's and Clarette's mouths betraying the bright red rubber balls 

that were strapped in their mouths. I could see Yvette bite down on the 

unyielding rubber as she concentrated on her gait to avoid stumbling 

on her hobble. The servants hurried back and forth between the kitchen 

and the dining room bringing out plates of food. The meal progressed 

with the three servants standing at attention against the wall waiting 

to be summoned. I learned that it was considered bad form around this 

dinner table for any of the guests to pass anything between themselves. 

If one guest wished to use the salt for instance, they would request 

the use of the condiment whereupon one of the maids would rush forward 

to accept it onto her tray. She would then move to the requester and 

offer the salt to them. Many times this only required that she turn her 

body as the giver was often seated directly beside the receiver.

  The meal was delicious, and as it wound down the three girls hustled 

back and forth clearing the table. While Babette busied herself in the 

kitchen, Clarette appeared with a tray full of brandy glasses to be 

distributed among the guests. George took his glass and casually lit a 

huge cigar. He leaned back and summoned Yvette. She came and stood 

beside him and gazed across the table meeting my eyes. George shook out 

his match and asked Joan: "Is it time for desert now?" Yvette jumped 

as if she had been struck! Her eyes flew open and she gaped at me 

beseechingly. I couldn't really gather the significance of George's 

comment beyond the innuendo. Except for Yvette's consternation, I would 

have surly thought it was an idle comment. George dropped the spent

match on Yvette's tray and waved her away. A look of supreme relief swept 

Yvette's beautiful face as she went to dispose of the match. Clarette 

took the last tray of plates and followed Yvette into the kitchen. Joan 

sighed and looked at her husband. He shrugged and nodded to her. "Oh, 

Sometimes I think that is the only reason you come here..." She said. 

"...But I suppose it's O.K." With that, Rose and Elaine looked at each 

other and giggled. Then they got up and went to stand on either side of 

the swinging doors to the kitchen. Rose smiled at my obvious look of 

confusion and held a finger to her lips. The kitchen doors slowly 

opened and Clarette stepped into the room. As the doors closed behind 

her, Rose and Elaine stepped up behind the unsuspecting barmaid and 

hooked their arms through her handcuffed arms, catching her elbows and 

pulling them outward, totally taking the pretty young brunette under 

control. Clarette's shout was no more then a muffled grunt due to the 

tight strap and ball in her mouth and she glanced anxiously back and 

forth between her grinning attendants. The two women hustled the 

squeeling, struggling, but somehow unresisting, girl out of the room 

through the other door and no one (Not even me) raised a finger to intercede.

  George stood slowly and stretched, rubbing his pot belly. "Same 

place?" He asked Joan. She nodded and he casually walked out of the 

room. Joan rose and asked me to chat with Larry for a few moments while 

she was gone. Larry was the typical self-searching, reserved artist. In 

the course of our conversation he confided in me that he had fallen in 

love with Joan the moment he had lain eyes on her, those many years 

before. What he didn't understand at the time, was her sexual appetite. 

He smiled as he explained with a twinge of pride, It seemed that she is 

something of a nymphomaniac. "At first it was great, but I just could never 

seem to get any work done..." was his explanation. When she had come to him 

and explained about the urges she had hidden for so long, Larry said he was 

not very happy with the idea of sharing her with anyone. But he could 

not deny his beloved anything. Once he got used to the arrangements, he 

admitted, it was rather pleasant having all these pretty girls underfoot.

The slave girls generally keep Joan content and he could finally get some 

work done. It was working out quite nicely.

  Joan appeared at the doorway and cleared her throat to get our 

attention. She asked if I was ready to go, and I figured that I was. I 

noticed that she was twirling a short, thin brown leather strap around 

her finger. I followed her out to the foyer where I expected my coat 

would be waiting for me. Instead I was astonished to see a pretty girl 

kneeling on the floor with her back to us. A girl with blonde hair, 

tightly French braided. A tight black leather strap was clearly visible 

biting at the nape of her neck. Her green sweater hugged her features as 

before, and I could see the back of her stiff white collar pinching her 

neck. For some unknown reason, I was confident that she reciently had 

her necktie adjusted. Her hands fidgeted in the unyielding steel cuffs. 

I began to shake. Joan helped her stand, then looped the strap around 

Yvette's elbows and pulled it tight, pinning Yvette's elbows together. 

She snapped a tiny padlock into the buckle. "I like to make things a bit 

more complicated whenever I have the opportunity!" She said as she 

turned Yvette around to face me. The tape on her lips had been replaced 

with some with a new message on it. It was short and crudely to the 

point, "Please, Fuck me!" My mouth hung agape and Yvette looked up at 

me innocently. I was simply speechless, I didn't know what to say! 

  There was a sudden clatter approaching us as the sound of high heels 

on hardwood rang down the hall. Babette rounded the corner in a 

terrible hurry and almost slammed into us. Joan let go of Yvette and 

jumped into Babette's path with her arms outstretched. Babette stopped 

as short as her patent leathers' would allow. Someone had removed her 

maid's uniform, petticoats and apron. She stood before us now wearing a 

bizarre white corset. It was, to use understatement, tight. It laced up 

the front, running from Babette's belly up to a pair of cups that 

supported her exposed mammarys. At the bottom, it ended with six garter 

straps that held her stockings in place and little else. Her flower was 

on display for all to see, framed by the garter straps. The corset ran 

from under her breasts, up over the tips of her shoulders and around 

her body. Her arms were folded back behind her and under the corset. In 

the upper section of the back, the corset extended up to her neck where 

it turned into the normal looking, blouse collar she had buttoned 

around her neck. This was more then decorative, it also kept the corset 

from sliding down so she was unable to work her arms out of their 

predicament. Although the knot of her bow tie remained tied, the bow 

portion had come loose so she trailed two streamers of red silk behind 

her as she tried to evade recapture. Joan deftly cut off her avenue of 

escape and herded her into a corner. Babette's face, flushed with 

exertion from her romp showed nothing more then disappointment as Joan 

scolded her. "You know the rules! No escaping without permission!" 

(What a ridiculous statement!) Babette looked suitably chastised, but 

just as feisty as before. Joan re-tied Babette's bow, then reached into 

her hair and grabbed Babette's ear with a vice-like grip. She turned 

back to me and suggested that I take Yvette upstairs and see if I could

find some way to entertain her. She twisted Babette's ear, forcing her 

to bend over at the waist. The gag in her mouth was more then efficient, 

diluting her protests down to a stifled mumbling. Yvette and I watched 

as Babette stumbled away under Joan's coaxing. The last thing we saw 

was Babette's bare bum rounding the corner. We were alone. 

  Yvette contemplated me with her innocent blue eyes. It may sound 

silly now, but I was not sure what to do. I could not be sure if she 

even knew what was going on. The writing on her lips could have been a 

cruel joke on either (or both) of us. Yvette's seemed amused by my 

indecision. I didn't know whether she understood my conflict, or 

whether she just needed it for herself, but when she snuggled in under 

my arm and put her head on my shoulder, my indecision disappeared very 

quickly. I helped her climb the stairway. The cuffs on her ankles 

didn't really hinder her stride as she stepped up the stairs, but she 

began to lean heavily on me. I had never felt as strong as when I 

assisted this almost totally helpless girl to do something as simple as 

walking up the stairs. She seemed to tire a bit about halfway up the 

long curved stairway. My action was completely natural, I didn't really

give it any thought, It just seemed like the right thing to do so I did 

it. I scooped her up into my arms. She gasped as I lifted her and 

regarded me with her soulful blue eyes. She shut her eyes, sighed and 

snuggled into my arms like a child, to be comforted and protected. 

I was happy to oblige.

  I turned right at the top of the stairs. There were closed doors, one

on each side of the hall. I picked the door on the left. It wasn't easy 

manipulating the door knob while holding a hundred pound girl in my 

arms but the door opened and I gave it a little tap with my foot. The 

door opened into a bedroom and an wild scene. There was a bed against 

the far wall. It was placed sideways with one side butting up to the 

wall. Rose and Elaine were here, having their way with poor Clarette. 

Clarette lay on her back on the bed. They had tied her calf's together 

with each ankle pointing at the other leg's knee. Then they tied her 

lower legs to a long thin pole. This was to keep her legs spread as far 

as possible at the knees and the pole prevented any chance of her 

trying to roll over. A thin cord ran from her bound legs up under her 

toward her upper body. It seemed that they had also bound her elbows 

together again by the angle that her arms took as they went under her. 

Another pole was tied under her upper body extending out away from her 

body at her shoulders. Rose and Elaine were both naked, hovering over 

the bound figure of Clarette on the bed. They hadn't bothered to 

undress her, they had simply pushed her skirt up around her hips.  

Elaine knelt at the foot of the bed, assailing Clarette in a most 

intimate way while Rose was in the process of settling in by kneeling 

over the bound girl with one knee on each side of her head and then 

sitting back onto Clarette's chest. 

  Clarette's head poked out from under Rose and turned in our direction 

as we inadvertently entered. Her hair was matted with perspiration and 

her face was crimson from exertion. They had replaced the rubber ball 

and strap with a metal ring and strap that held her mouth wide open. 

Rose glanced in our direction then slid her weight forward and pinched 

her thighs around the helpless girl's head. Clarette's body squirmed 

under the onslaught but her groans did seem to have a content ring to me.



	To be continued...



-- 



  We excused ourselves and backed out into the hallway. We went to the 

next door and I cautiously opened it, not sure of what we would find. 

To my relief it was a vacant bedroom with a big canopied bed with a 

matching settee, desk and a dresser and mirror. I gently lowered Yvette 

to her feet and she squirmed in her bonds for a moment. Not terribily 

hard, she appeared to be testing their security but she didn't seem to 

really want to escape. I sat down at the desk and watched her. She was 

glaring cross-eyed at a stray wisp of hair that had pulled out of it's 

braiding and was hanging in front of her eyes. She flicked her head to 

the side to try to blow the offending hair out of the way. She rubbed 

her nose on her shoulder attempting to move the hair without any luck. 

She glanced up at me for a second, and scowled at me in mock 

indignation at my unwillingness to help her. She stood in front of me 

looking deliciously rumpled, with one hip extended and her right ankle 

flopped over off her high heel shoe. I melted and moved the offending 

hair.

  I was still not sure what my next move should be. Oh, I know what I 

*WANTED* it to be! But I would never have been able to live with myself 

if I took unfair advantage of this dream. I tried to ask her what she 

wanted to do. "Is this what you want?" I asked, hoping for some kind of 

response. She looked at me with a befuddled look and shrugged her 

shoulders questioningly. "Do you know what's on the tape?" I asked 

motioning to the proposition written on the gag. She gazed at me 

uncertainly and then crossed her eyes again in an attempt to see the 

writing. She went to the mirror and looked at herself for a moment. The 

writing may have been backwards, but it was more then plain. She 

blushed intensly for a moment and then turned to me and shrugged her 

shoulders again, this time there was a distinct twinkle in her eye. I 

smiled, "That really isn't an answer. Is this really what *You* want to 

do?" She nodded. My heart leapt. "Your positive? I mean, If you 

don't..." I asked again, just a little more reassurance... She slowly 

meandered over and stood before me, strong, proud, defiant, sincere, 

ultimately helpless, unquestionably gorgeous. She leaned down just a 

bit and looked me straight in the eye. The answer was emphatic. YES!

  It isn't the easiest thing in the world, making love to a bound and 

gagged girl. My first instinct was to untie her. HA! Joan was much too 

clever for that, everything locked. The crass message written on the tape

didn't do justice to this lovely lady so I pealed the tape back off her 

mouth. I wanted to kiss her, I had to kiss her! The strap that held the 

ball between her lovely lips was locked too. DAMN! I had to settle for 

her slender neck and ear lobes. I hugged her to me and wanted to feel the

press of her body as she embraced me back. No way, they had neglected to 

give me the keys to her cuffs. The frustration seemed mutual as she 

pressed against me with all her strength. My hands sought her body, 

caressing, squeezing, fondling. I found her nipples easily, even through 

the wool of her sweater. They stood at attention to my touch, beckoning 

me to continue. I pushed the sweater up in an attempt to pull it over her

head but with her arms strapped behind her back as they were, I couldn't

comfortably work it over her head. So her sweater remained where it was,

rolled up under her arms to expose the buttons of her blouse. I made 

short work of those. She moaned as my tongue danced over her engorged 

nipples. We drifted over to the bed. She sat back and awkwardly slid into

a more comfortable position by pushing down into the bedding with her 

pinioned arms. She made room for me and indicated it by straining her 

arms around to her side and tapping on the open space with her fingers. 

I almost dove on to the bed to join her. 

  I still desperately wanted to kiss her, when I did try all I could do 

was lick and nibble on her lips tasting the invisible residue of 

adhesive left from the tape. She panted and groaned as she strained to 

push her tongue out from under the ball in an attempt to meet mine. My 

hand ran slowly up her nylon sheathed thigh and brushed the hem of her 

skirt. From her gyrations on the bed, it had crept high up her leg and 

when my fingers lightly brushed under the hem I felt the cool smooth 

skin of her thigh and then the lacy trim of her garter. She shuddered 

softly, rubbing her knees together, trapping my fingers between her 

thighs for a moment. Then, slightly spreading her quivering thighs, she 

almost beckoned me to run my fingers higher still. I was delighted to 

comply. Imagine my shock as my probing, dancing digits found only 

fluffy hair and smooth moist skin at the end of their journey. Nirvana. 

  Yvette trembled. Her eyes were full of excitement as she strained to 

press nearer to me. She rolled up on her hip and pressed her arms 

around in front of her as far as they would go with the elbow strap 

still pinning them together. Demonstrating amazing dexterity and 

flexibility she began undressing me! The buttons fell open slowly. When 

I tried to help her, she grunted angrily and pressed on with increasing 

determination. If she didn't want me to help, I figured, I might as 

well find something to amuse myself. So my fingers began their quest 

again. Stroking, pinching, caressing, I explored her lovely body. 

  My next inspiration was her hair, I wanted to see her hair. It took 

me a few moments, but I finally found the strategic pins and bands that 

held her hair in the tight French braid. When it finally fell loose I 

was astonished by it's length. Yvette's hair fell almost to the center 

of her back in it's wavy blonde fullness. My fingers ran slowly through 

it and brushed it back as she concentrated on what she was doing. When 

she leaned forward, her hair fell down in front of her and hampered her 

vision. With a flick of her head, and an annoyed scowl at me for 

complicating her job, she threw her hair back out of her eyes. But it 

was only for as long as it took her to go back to her work, before the 

blonde wave cascaded into her face once again.

   I was naked and Yvette knelt over me with a look of triumph on her 

face. I reached to loosen her clothes, to try to make her more 

comfortable, but she was not interested as she brushed past my hands 

and began running her trammeled tongue over me. Our loveplay continued, 

back and forth, coaxing and teasing, squeezing and stroking for some 

time. Suddenly Yvette straightened and looked at me with her blue 

bedroom eyes, "Pwneess," she mumbled past the gag. "Mmmmooww!!" she 

groaned. "Lefff mnoo Ifff mow!" It was unmistakable to me what she was 

saying. It was a request I have never denied. I took hold of her 

shoulders and coaxed her to lie back on the bed. She shook her head and 

resisted so I let go. Yvette struggled up onto her knees and faced me 

attempting to push her knees apart. The tightness of her skirt 

prevented this, but only until I could come to her aid. She motioned 

with her eyes and I complied, chuckling to myself as I realized that I 

was no longer in command. I was being directed, controlled if you will, 

by a thoroughly tied and gagged girl. I pushed her skirt up around her 

hips and carefully slid my legs between her knees. The chain on her 

ankles was just barely long enough so that her ankles could comfortably 

rest on either side of my knees. Yvette's breathing was reduced to 

rapid panting as she gazed down, wide-eyed at me. 

  I coaxed her to rise up and I gently guided her back down. Each sweet 

millimeter caused the passion to well up within us both. Yvette's eyes 

grew even larger and her face began to flush. She arched her back until 

I could no longer see her face. But I could still see her neck. Her neck 

went from pink to red to almost purple. The contrast between the stiff 

white of her collar only exaggerated the color. Veins bulged out on her 

neck, Every muscle in her body seemed to quiver and her knees squeezed 

the breath out of me as she hugged me as tightly as she could, the only 

way she could. I began to doubt that I had ever really seen a woman 

orgasm before. She climaxed twice more before we were done.

  We lay together on the bed for a long time, cuddling. She dozed off 

for a while and I watched her. The red ball tucked in her stretched 

mouth didn't seem to disturb her at all, to my amazement. She slept 

peacefully enough, but she still looked uncomfortable to me. She had 

resisted any of my attempts to help. Her sweater was still bunched up 

under her arms. The starched white collar poking out, buttoned tightly, 

holding her necktie in place. Her left breast was covered by the green

wool of her sweater, but the right one was exposed. Her shirt was 

pushed back behind her and the bottom of her red tie lay down her bare 

belly almost to her navel. I cradled her in my arms as she dozed, 

oblivious to her condition. She was adorable. I tweaked her nose 

gently. Her eyes opened slowly and her eyes smiled up at me. We made

love again. 

  As we rested, Yvette squirmed around, trying to get a little more 

comfortable. A sharp pain scraped my chest and I lurched to prevent it. 

Yvette's name tag had scratched me. I pulled her sweater down and 

unpinned the offending object. I held the tag in front of me and 

complimented Yvette on what I thought was a very beautiful name. Yvette 

started laughing, although at first, for a horrifing moment, I thought 

she was choking. She looked at me and shook her head. "It's not your name?"

I asked, kind of confused. "Naathhne... Mfff nnamm niss Naathhnne..." I 

was still confused, I asked: "Your name is Janie?" This suddenly mysterious

woman shook her head with exasperation again. She pushed her hands out where

I could see and moved her finger in an upward movement, then a downward 

diagonal movement then a upward movement. She was forming a letter. "M?... 

Martha?" I said without thinking. Wrong. She rolled her eyes skyward and 

groaned. "N?" I questioned. "Nathne?... Natalie?" She smiled and nodded. 

"Oh, Yvette's an alias eh?" I said. "Natalie, That's a pretty name as well, 

Natalie... She chuckled at my naivete. 

  My mind was spinning as I reluctantly dressed. I had just redressed 

Yvette. It was really a pleasure for me to help, but we didn't have 

much luck getting all her wrinkles out. It seemed that our athletics 

had caused her to end up with an awfully rumpled uniform. I could not 

take my eyes off this wonderful, delightful, mysterious, sexy, creature 

as she sat patiently waiting for me. It was with a great reluctance 

that we left our little world and went back down stairs.



	To be completed...



-- 



  George and Larry were no longer in the living room but everyone else 

was. As we entered, Rose and Elaine got up from the couch and came up 

to us. They looked Natalie up and down and shook their heads in a 

scolding fashion. Natalie looked up at me again and shrugged, then Rose

crooked her finger in the direction of the back corner of the room and 

then Yvette submissively followed the women's orders. I glanced at the 

opposite corner where the other two girls were being entertained. 

Babette stood at attention in the corner. She still had the same corset 

restraint she had worn earlier, but they somehow had been unable to 

locate her uniform. For modesty, they had added a pair of tiny red 

panties. They needn't really have bothered. A big piece of white tape 

covered her lips and a thin chain ran from the back of her corset to a 

bracket that hung out from the wall. The chain was taught and prevented 

her from even hoping to sit down. Her ankles were tightly bound with 

rope. Just to her right was Clarette, seated on a straight back chair. 

Thin white cord wound across her chest, one series of turns went above 

her breasts and the second went underneath. The cord was also run around

her knees and in her mouth seemed to be the same ring thing I had seen 

earlier. Added to this contraption now was a plug that fit through the 

ring and had two industrial snaps, one on each cheek. Either way, she 

wasn't going to be talking much. Joan had just finished tying Clarette's 

ankles to the left chair leg, then she tightened and adjusted Clarette's 

necktie. There was a second chair with several coils of rope on the seat

to Babette's left. A 35mm camera mounted on a tripod waited, centered on 

the two girls, waiting to be put to use in this family portrait.

  I glanced over to where Rose and Elaine had taken Natalie. Yvette 

knelt before the two women while Rose brushed the submissive girl's hair 

and Elaine primped her clothes. When Rose had finished she pulled back 

the tufts of hair that framed Natalie's face and pined them back onto the

top of her head with a big red hair bow. Finished, they marched her over

to the chair and began substituting the rope for her steel and leather 

restraints. After they tightly bound Yvette's arms behind her again and 

removed the cuffs, they coaxed her into the chair and used the rest of 

the rope to secure her identically with Clarette, a couple of bookends. 

Joan approached Yvette and went behind her and began fishing through 

her hair. When I saw the key, I hurried over. Natalie winced as the 

familiar red ball popped from her mouth. She worked her jaw for a 

moment then looked up at me and smiled, a deep, warm, beautiful smile. 

The kind of smile that simply beamed. "Hi?" she said in a raspy little 

voice. I leaned forward and kissed her, deeply, longingly. It was 

better then I had even imagined. Joan cleared her throat once and I 

ignored her. I didn't want this moment to end. She did it again. 

Natalie's kiss became more intense, more frantic. Joan cleared her throat

a third time, this time with more authority. I reluctantly backed off. 

Natalie remained in place, straining forward against the rope that held 

her in the chair. Her eyes were closed and her lips remained pursed. Rose 

snapped her fingers and Natalie opened her eyes. Elaine held a big wad of 

cotton in her hand and Rose motioned to the bound girl to open her mouth.

Natalie looked at me and then sighed, "I guess this is good-bye too..." she 

said solemnly, tears welling in her eyes. Then Yvette obediently opened 

her mouth and allowed it to be packed full of cotton. A wide rubber strap

made sure that Yvette had nothing else to say.

  Joan led me to the door and provided my coat and scarf. She wished me 

well and opened the door. I tried to argue, I wanted only to stay. I 

could not leave without Natalie. That was not the deal I was told. There 

would be no reprieve. The door shut behind me. It was raining, a light 

cold mist stung at my eyes, mingling with my own emotions. As I got to 

my car there was a flash from a flashbulb in the living room, then 

another and another. I drove away.

  A week went by, My thoughts were constantly clouded by the vision of 

a mysterious blonde girl, one who could capture my imagination and hold 

it forever. My calls had gone unreturned. I sat in my apartment alone. 

Longing for just a glimpse of the girl who had won my heart in the 

briefest of encounters. I remembered her scent, her voice, "Good-bye" 

was all it said. I buried my face in my hands. There was a soft knock on 

my door, I was angry. I didn't need any salesmen right then. There was 

another knock. I went to the door and pulled it open. Joan Sumpter stood 

on the other side of my door. Behind her was a pair of wide blue eyes 

peeking over her shoulder. I could feel my mouth drop open in disbelief. 

Joan smiled, then stepped aside. The girl who stood behind her wore a 

hooded cape. There was a big piece of white tape on her mouth. There was 

no message.  "We gave it some thought..." Joan began, indicating Natalie, 

"... We decided that you might enjoy having a maid of your own for a 

while." She said as she placed a small suitcase at my feet. It rattled 

with the sound of metal. I heard what Joan said, but I could not respond.

Joan guided Natalie gently towards me and turned and started down the hall. 

"If you get tired of her, just let me know, and I'll be happy to take her 

back..." she said. I heard her whistling a show tune as she disappeared 

around the corner. Her voice waifted down the hall. "Matchmaker Matchmaker, 

Make me a match..." Tire of Natalie? That was impossible. 

What began as passion grew into love, true love. Natalie and I were married 

6 months later...





  Now I'm aware that this story seems a bit far fetched. In fact, even *I*

 have a hard time believing that anyone could be this lucky and in all 

 honesty, I  never question anyone who would doubt it's authenticity. All I 

 can say in closing is: 



  If this Tale I have just conveyed is *NOT* the truth, the whole truth, 

 and nothing, but the truth... Ahhh, well..., Then..., *Sigh*...

			It ought to be... 

   



--



       You don't have to say it, I will.... What an Jerk...  :^P



     Did I fool ya?  Did you think it was real??  Even for a minute??? 



                 Nahhhh, I didn't think so.  :^)



I really didn't set out intending it to be a little bit hoaxy, it just

came out that way. If that bothers you, Sorry. If you enjoyed it, it was my

pleasure...

  Anyway, I had fun writing it, and I have a couple more written containing 

lots of "Tied" up women that I'll post, assuming that some of you liked this 

one. They were all written long before I found ASB and are not as pretentious 

as this. But maybe even more far fetched. (If that's possible!  :^)  



		Til Later,



		    SNIDLEY





--



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