It had been
a long day of collating purchase files, chasing down stray
invoices, and updating ledgers. Nothing out of the
ordinary for Leda Brewer, secretary and bookkeeper at Archer
Metals, but a tiring day, nonetheless. She entered the
flat she shared with her best friend forever (BFF), aspiring
writer, and certified pain-in-the-butt Robin Clery, and hung her
purse and jacket on their accustomed coat-hooks in the front
entryway. Clad in the same pretty (in everybody's
opinion) cotton shift-dress she'd worn all day, a pair of
sensible work pumps, and not mentioning her unmentionables, she
dragged herself into the apartment's living room/common room and
collapsed into the easy chair next to the sofa.
"Is that you?" a voice yelled from Robin's bedroom and writing
room. Not surprisingly, the voice belonged to Robin.
Leda smiled and yelled back. "No! It's a
burglar! You left the front door unlocked again!"
Truth be told, Robin hadn't left the door unlocked, and she
wasn't really a pain-in-the-butt. Robin was a
sweetie. Also, as Leda had told her BFF and roomie on
numerous occasions, with three published novels under her belt,
at some point Robin was going to have to drop the "aspiring" tag
and start calling herself an actual writer. The
royalties were dribbling in—and were enough to pay Robin's half
of the rent and support her modest lifestyle—just barely.
The non-pain-in-the-butt in question breezed into the living
room, resplendent in her favorite pair of Daisy Dukes and a
coffee-brown tank-top-style top. The cut-off denim jeans
were ultra short, faded, frayed, and clearly deserved to be
retired to the recycling bin after a life of long and faithful
service stretched across the butt of their non-pain-in-the-butt
owner, but Robin liked them, so they soldiered on. The top
"How was your day?" Robin inquired as she sat on the hassock
that went with Leda's chair, lifted her roomie's feet onto her
lap, plucked off her shoes, and began massaging her feet.
Leda sighed, then settled back in the chair.
"Hectic." She heaved another sigh, smiled, then focused on
Robin's smiling face and her smile faded. "Okay, what do
Robin's smile morphed into a wounded pout. "Oh, that's
nice." She continued massaging Leda's feet. "I
politely inquire how your day went—as would any concerned
friend—and you accuse me of wanting something."
Leda cocked an eyebrow and favored her friend with a wry smile.
Robin's smile returned. "Okay, you know me. Yes... I
want something." She continued her foot massage.
Leda closed her eyes and relaxed... not that she hadn't been
relaxed before. "Well?"
Robin's smile became a dimpled grin. "I want you to help
me with a teeny, tiny, itty-bitty bit of research for my
Leda opened one eye. "You're finally writing?"
Robin pouted, again. "I told you," she huffed. "I'm
not blocked... meaning I wasn't blocked. I
was... thinking. And yes, I'm writing."
Leda smiled and closed her eye. Robin had magic
hands. The massage felt good.
"I need you to tie me up," Robin explained.
Leda opened her eye, again (and ignored the thrill that was
trying to ripple between her legs). "Say what?"
"You heard me." Robin's dimpled grin had returned.
"I need to know what's it like to be a helpless prisoner.
Research. You're into that stuff, so you can be my
Leda blushed (slightly). "What do you mean by 'into that
stuff?' I'm offended."
"Oh, please," Robin chuckled. "I'm not saying
you're a bondage freak, but I've seen how you perk up whenever a
damsel-in-distress scene pops up in a movie or TV show.
You don't even try to hide it. And you told me about the
horrible stuff they do to you at work."
Leda closed her eye, again. "Archer Metals does all kinds
of metalwork, and some of our artists accept commissions from
clients with, shall we say, specialized tastes." Leda's
employer was as much a commune of metalworking artists and
artisans as a metal fabrication business, and somebody had to
help test the 'specialized items' before they were shipped out.
"Okay, it's the clients who are the bondage freaks,"
Robin purred. "That doesn't explain why you let them lock
you in their shackles and chains and cages and stuff."
Leda's eyes remained closed. "Somebody has to make
sure there aren't any burrs or rough spots."
"Yes," Robin chuckled, "somebody." She continued her
massage. "Anyway, I need to know what it's like to be a
"So you said," Leda purred. She had that pesky thrill
firmly under control, but her heart was thumping. This was
an opportunity, an out-of-the-blue opportunity.
She wasn't about to let it pass, but knew she was going to have
to play her cards very carefully.
Robin's dimples deepened as she stopped massaging Leda's feet
and lightly ran the tips of her fingers up and down Leda's
"Hey!" Leda objected (giggled), opening both eyes.
"Well?" Robin demanded, resuming her massage.
Leda closed her eyes, again. "Okay, I'll tie you up, but after
dinner... and you have to cook."
"It's my turn, anyway," Robin noted, still smiling.
| Chapter 1
Robin loved it
when a plan came together. She didn't consider herself a
particularly manipulative person, but getting Leda to do things
Robin's way usually took a little... persuasion. This had
Dinner was tossed salad, spaghetti with meatballs (made with
marinara sauce from a jar), garlic bread, and a cheap but
drinkable Chianti. Robin did the cooking, as promised, but
both roomies shared the cleanup duties. They then
adjourned to the living room and Robin gathered her thoughts and
prepared to orchestrate her latest research effort.
"Tinkle," Leda ordered.
"Excuse me?" Robin demanded.
"Go use the Little Damsel's Room," Leda clarified, pointing at
the bathroom door.
Tinkling seemed like a sensible precaution, so Robin made a show
of exasperated martyrdom, then strolled to the 'Little Damsel's
Room' and emptied her bladder. So much for being in
charge, Robin thought as she splashed water on her face
and brushed her hair, then returned to the living room to find
Leda sorting through a pile of white cotton rope. Robin
was no expert, but she believed the neat bundles of various
lengths were of the clothesline variety. Also, her soon to
be captor had moved one of their four straight-back wooden
chairs from the dining table near the kitchen to the middle of
Robin frowned. "What kind of a person has that much rope
just lying around their apartment?"
Leda grinned and poked herself between the breasts with her
right index finger. "This kind."
Robin realized the agenda was continuing to slip from her
fingers. She watched as Leda selected a coil of
clothesline and released its retaining hitch. Time to
assert herself before it was too late. "Okay, what I want
you to do is—"
"Quiet," Leda interrupted. "Sit!" The now loose coil
was in her left hand and she was pointing at the chair seat with
"Bossy much?" Robin huffed as she planted her denim-clad butt in
the hard wooden chair.
"You're writing a story with a villainess who's not in
control of the situation?" Leda inquired as she stepped behind
"Well, yes," Robin answered, "and no. No for most
of the plot, but obviously yes during the
"This is that part," Leda explained with a smile. "Arms
behind the chair."
"Huh?" Robin blinked, then followed her BFF and
villainess-stand-in's order. Her armpits now rested on top
of the chair-back.
"Hands palm-to-palm," Leda specified, and again, Robin complied.
Robin grimaced—from nervousness, not pain—as loops of doubled
rope tightened around her wrists... were cinched... then
knotted. She tugged on her wrists and groped with her
fingers, but couldn't find the knots Leda had just tied, but she
did encounter two long free ends of rope dangling from somewhere
between her wrists.
"Stop that," Leda huffed, lightly slapping the back of Robin's
right hand. "No squirming 'til I'm finished."
"I assumed you were finished," Robin explained (whined).
"Oh, Sweetie," Leda chuckled. "I've barely started. I
haven't even tied your ankles." She picked up another coil
and prepared it for use by doubling it, finding the center, and
forming a loop. "Now, no more talkin' 'til I tell you you
can talk, understand?"
"Oh, yes Madam Villianess!" Robin huffed.
Leda proceeded to bind Robin's elbows together behind the
chair—not touching-together, but about two inches apart
with rope wrapped between. Next, she tied Robin's ankles
and knees, then proceeded to deploy loop after loop of cinched
rope to lash Robin to the chair. White cotton bands
crossed her lap, encircled her waist, and snugged her chest
against the chair-back, passing above and below her
breasts. The finale was a pair of doubled ropes that yoked
Robin's shoulders, cinched the lower horizontal
below-the-breasts ropes, and further lashed her to the
chair. Then, she incorporated the free ends from Robin's
wrist bonds in the chair lashings by hitching then around the
cross-braces between the chair-legs, removing all the
slack, then tying a series of knots. Robin's best guess
was that the knot in question was something like eighteen inches
from her fingertips. Her bound ankles had already received
similar treatment. Her feet were under the chair and off
the floor with her toes just barely grazing the pile of the
living room carpet.
"Okay, you can squirm now," Leda conceded. She was
standing in front of her chair-bound BFF/victim with her arms
crossed under her breasts.
Robin stared at her captor. The smile curling Leda's lips
wasn't at all condescending, gloating, and
So, having nothing better to do, Robin started squirming... then
squirmed some more... then twisted, bucked, and shifted her
weight from side-to-side.
"Stop rockin' the chair," Leda ordered. "If you tip over
you'll probably hurt yourself."
Brave Defiance seemed appropriate. "Bite me," Robin
growled, glowering at her captor.
Still smiling, Leda turned and strolled towards her
bedroom. "I'll be right back," she promised.
Robin resumed squirming and fluttering her fingers. She
didn't bother wiggling her toes. Apparently (obviously),
Leda was even more into the subject of her research than Robin
had previously suspected. Also, her current predicament
was more elaborate than anything she remembered reading about or
seeing in cinema and TV. Okay, Bridget Fonda had been
nearly as elaborately bound to a chair in Single White
Female, but that had been with tape. Leda had used
rope... a lot more rope. Anyway, SWF was
all Robin could think of at the moment. Literary damsels
were usually just "tied up" or "bound hand and foot," and movie
and TV bondage was almost always proforma to the point of
cliché. Even Robin could tell the captive actresses
weren't nearly as helpless as they were being paid to pretend.
Leda's ropes, on the other hand... Robin squirmed a little
more. Be careful what you wish for.
"Okay, here we go," Leda said as she breezed back into the
Robin swallowed nervously. Leda had just placed a
neatly-rolled, wide, "flesh"-colored elastic bandage and a stack
of folded scarves and bandanas on the nearby hassock.
"Don't stare at me with those sad, baby-fawn eyes,
young lady," Leda chuckled as she selected a blue and white
cotton bandana, let it fall open, then crumpled it into a tight
wad. "You can't be a 'helpless prisoner' unless you're
Robin hadn't realized she'd been staring, but now that she
thought about it, it was probably a good idea and stared some
more. "I could pretend to be gagged," she
"That would be cheating," Leda purred as she cupped Robin's chin
with one hand and stuffed the bandana into her sputtering mouth
with the other. "Hold that for me," she requested, then
selected a sky-blue, lightweight summer scarf and began folding
it into a long, thin bandage.
"Mrrrk!" Robin complained, but didn't attempt to expel the wad
of cotton cloth. At least the stuffing filling her oral
cavity was an old bandana and had been washed
countless times. The fabric was soft. Besides, she'd
asked for it. So to speak. Or not speak,
now that her mouth was stuffed.
Smiling sweetly, Leda wrapped the scarf-bandage around Robin's
head and across gaping lips twice, then cinched the ends at the
nape of her neck... paused to free her BFF/prisoner's long,
brown locks from under the gag... then cinched it even
tighter—eliciting a grunt from Robin—then tied a tight
square-knot. She then combed Robin's tousled hair from her
face with her fingers, gathered it behind her head in a
ponytail, and used another scarf to enforce the arrangement.
Robin stared daggers at her BFF/captor. Be careful
what you wish for, indeed, she thought. Then, her
eyes popped wide. "Mrrrf?" Apparently, Leda wasn't
Still smiling sweetly (evilly), Leda released the Velcro closure
of the elastic bandage and began stretching and wrapping it
around Robin's head until she covered her already gagged mouth
and mummified her lower face from just below her flaring
nostrils to the point of her chin.
"Calm down," Leda purred as she smoothed the tight, stretched,
overlapping layers of bandage, making sure the wrappings were
secure. "Almost finished."
Robin's brown doe eyes were still wide. Almost?
"Mrrrm." Her stuff-cleave-bandage gag was certainly
effective. She had to give her villainous roomie credit
for that, but was it really necessary? She resumed staring
imaginary daggers... all of which harmlessly bounced off her
"Hmm..." Still smiling, Leda gazed at her prisoner.
"What else?" Then, her smile widened and she snapped her
fingers. "Got it!" She stepped to the hassock,
selected another scarf, this one in a multi-pastel floral
pattern, and folded it into another bandage.
Robin glowered at her BFF. Another gag layer?
That's ridiculous. "Mrrrf!" Leda had stepped
behind her chair... and suddenly, everything went black! A
blindfold? C'mon! "Mrrrpfh!" She
squirmed and fought her bonds, but couldn't prevent Leda from
cinching the blindfolding scarf and tying another
Robin heard Leda step away... then flinched when her captor
placed something over her ears! She quickly realized it
was the pair of Bose wireless noise-cancelling headphones from
their entertainment unit. She'd bought them for Leda last
Christmas, but they both used them when one roomie wanted to
watch TV and the other had decided to go to bed early. She
shook her head and complained.
Next, she felt Leda release the scarf enforcing her ponytail,
then (apparently) use the still narrowly folded cloth to
reinforce her blindfold and anchor the headphones in
place. She shook her head, again, then heaved a muffled
sigh and complained through her effective gag, again.
Helplessly bound, gagged, blindfolded, and now...
Ear-muffed? Aurally suppressed? ...Robin sat in her
chair and Leda's ropes and contemplated her
condition. So... helpless prisoner... I
got my way. Yippee?
Suddenly, sound filled Robin's ears! It wasn't especially
loud, but it was loud enough, and thanks to the headphones'
noise-cancelling technology, it was all she could hear.
Eventually, Robin realized that she was listening to the start
of a movie... specifically... Thor Ragnarok? The
roomies had agreed to watch Thor Ragnarok together
"some night soon." Apparently, Leda had decided that
tonight was the night. The only problem was—"Mrrrk!"—Robin
wasn't able to watch anything!
|| Chapter 1
Leda had set
the volume of the headphones at what she knew to be a
comfortable level, but had lowered the volume from their TV
speaker system until it was barely audible. Leda wasn't
interested in watching Thor Ragnarok this evening
(although Chris Hemsworth was decidedly easy on the
eyes). She had another evening's entertainment in
She stooped to retrieve her work shoes, then padded into her
bedroom and undressed. She kept her panties, but dropped a
white tank-top over her head, then shrugged into her favorite
(meaning her only) cotton robe (in salmon pink). Cinching
the robe's sash, she padded back into the living room, flopped
into the easy chair, propped her bare feet atop the hassock...
Robin was still in her chair, of course, bound in place, gagged,
blindfolded, and deafened by movie dialogue.
Leda gazed at her roomie's bare feet, shapely legs, and denim
and cotton-clad body—as well as what she could see of her
rope-yoked shoulders and upper arms—gag, blindfold, and
headphone muffled head—and long, tousled brown curls.
Robin's girlish features were completely covered, except for the
tip of her cute little button nose, but in Leda's well-educated
experience, Robin had never been more beautiful. Leda had
seen her roomie in all states of dress and undress, but tightly
bound in cotton rope and totally helpless? She'd never
been more beautiful.
Leda had carried a torch for her BFF, like, forever. Robin
didn't suspect a thing, but Leda was in love with her
roomie. Unsuspected and unrequited? Unfortunately,
yes. Nonetheless, Leda was in love.
Robin continued squirming and testing her inescapable bonds—the
soft cotton ropes Leda had lovingly looped, hitched, and cinched
around her adorably cute, charmingly diminutive, athletic, and
undeniably attractive BFF.
Leda, herself, was also diminutive and fit. They both
exercised and went running on a regular basis, and Leda had
talked Robin into joining her yoga class. Leda had no
problems in the self-image department. She knew they were
both cute little things—Robin was 5' 2" and Leda a
statuesque 5' 2½"—and they both turned heads; however, Robin
turned heads twice. She was absolutely
adorable. Being something of a minor film buff, Leda had
always mused that Robin had been popped from the same mold as
Yvonne Craig, Sally Fields, and Meg Ryan. Robin was cute-cute-cute!
Leda was very grateful to have Robin as her roommate and
friend. She was also horny.
Smiling a somewhat goofy, somewhat coy smile, Leda gazed at her
helpless, oblivious roomie for several seconds... then loosened
the sash of her robe and slid her right hand down the front of
her panties. She continued watching Robin wiggle in her
chair and toss her gagged, blindfolded, and electronically
deafened head... and slowly masturbated. A clinical
description of a socially frownded-upon activity? Yes, but
Leda didn't care. When she'd left Archer Metals for home
at the end of the workday she'd had no idea that her evening was
going to be this much fun... but it had happened!
Robin continued struggling, Leda suspected for comfort more than
anything else. She certainly wasn't going to escape.
Leda had seen to that. Hurrah for research! Leda
thought as she worked her way to the first of what she hoped
would be many orgasms before she'd have to free her prisoner so
she could go to bed—so they could go to bed—in separate
beds in separate bedrooms, unfortunately.
Well... Leda thought as she climbed the trail to the
summit of Mt. Orgasm... baby steps.
|| Chapter 1
"I assume she
kicked your ass when you finally untied her," Jordan Price
chuckled as she used a tack cloth and a little alcohol to clean
the last traces of polishing compound from her latest creation,
"but I don't see any bruising." She paused to gaze at Leda
Brewer's naked body before continuing. "No bruising at
"That's 'cause there isn't any," Leda explained. She was,
indeed, naked, and standing in a spread-eagle with her wrists
and ankles locked in thick, wide, polished steel manacles and
shackles, which in turn were attached to long, taut chains
attached to the ceiling and floor of Jordan's Archer Metals
workshop. The steel restraints were Jordan's handiwork, of
course, and she did a brisk trade in similar cuffs and
binders. However, Jordan used this particular set to
expedite her testing process. Leda tugged on her
restraints—or rather tried to tug on her
restraints. With her arms and legs flung wide it was a
pathetic effort. There was almost zero slack in the
chains. Leda was also a regular part of Jordan's
testing process, and Jordan had long since made the link-by-link
fine adjustments required to attain and maintain maximum
stretch. Leda's bare feet were flat on the concrete floor,
but just barely (pun intended).
Jordan was not naked, of course. She was wearing
her usual work clothes: steel-tipped boots, jeans, tank-top, and
chamois-thin, stained, leather work apron. Leda was naked,
but not Jordan.
So, why was Leda naked? Why was Leda always naked
when she "helped" Jordan with her product testing? It was
obvious. There was always a distinct possibility that Leda
would come in contact with the grease, oil, and grime one always
finds in a metalworking shop and stain one of the pretty dresses
she always wore to work. Whenever Jordan politely
requested her assistance (meaning ordered her to get her ass
into the shop, pronto), it made sense for Leda to strip to the
skin and hang her office attire (and unmentionables) in one of
Jordan's lockers. The workshop door was always closed and
locked for privacy (and to prevent Leda from chickening out and
trying to make a run for it once she got a good look at whatever
needed testing). In any case, the other artists and
artisans at Archer Metals didn't mind if they happened to catch
a glimpse of Leda Brewer in all her naked helplessness.
So... here she was... again.
"How did she take being tied to a chair all night?"
Jordan asked. Apparently satisfied with her efforts, she'd
tossed the tack cloth on a workbench and was strolling towards
her Testing Assistant.
Her eyes on Jordan's latest masterpiece, the gleaming object in
her hands, Leda swallowed before answering. "It wasn't all
night, just a couple of hours, but she took it surprisingly
well. She was a little gruff by the time I
finished untying her, but I suppose that's, uh, normal?"
"I suppose," Jordan agreed.
The masterpiece in question was a chastity belt, and it was,
unquestionably, a masterpiece. A pair of hinges in the
back allowed the two halves of the horizontal belt to close
around Leda's waist. They locked together with a click,
the smooth, polished steel now riding her hips. The
curved, vertical crotch-panel depended from a third hinge in the
rear. Jordan lifted it between Leda's legs and it now
cleaved Leda's butt, cupped her pussy, and attached to the
closed belt in the front with another click. A
star-shaped opening over Leda's anus and a saw-tooth vertical
slot over her labia satisfied her sanitary needs, but clearly
the belt would require careful cleaning in the event of long
term wear. Jordan used a barrel-style key to double-lock
the belt's mechanism, then took a step back, crossed her arms
under her breasts, and smiled.
"It's not exactly a perfect fit," Leda huffed, gazing
down at her steel-clad loins as best she could.
"The customer's specifications don't exactly match your
measurements," Jordan purred, "but it's close enough. It
certainly looks functional."
"Functional?" Leda huffed. "I suppose."
Jordan continued gazing at Leda's slender, athletic, diminutive,
and oh-so-sexy form. Her Testing Assistant had tan,
smooth, firm skin, and the stretched pose imposed a pleasing
tone on the muscles of her arms, legs, and abdomen. Also,
Leda had a pierced bellybutton with a little jeweled post.
It was cute. Oh-by-the-way, both of Leda's nipples were
pierced, and she was wearing a pair of simple, understated,
stainless steel dumbbell posts.
At 5' 7", Jordan was taller than her naked, captive assistant,
but every bit as fit, athletic, and curvaceous. Some might
argue more so. Jordan had always been a jock, and after
her boobs blossomed in high school, she'd definitely started
attracting more than her share of attention. Also (or so
she'd been told) her features were gorgeous.
Arguably she was as beautiful as Leda, she just didn't think it
was important. Also, Jordan was decidedly...
assertive. Okay, she was dominant. There, the secret
Again, Leda tugged (sort of) on her chains and added a twisting
motion to her steel-clad hips. "So," she said, "obviously,
it works. I need to get back to the office."
Jordan continued her visual inspection of her handiwork (and its
model). "You told me you were up to date with your
Leda shrugged... or flinched. Her stretched pose made it
difficult tell. "Once they go through their mail after
lunch, people always drop off invoices and receipts. I
should be in the office."
Jordan smiled, then strolled to the locker containing Leda's
clothing, retrieved her panties, then went to a nearby cabinet
and returned with a roll of silver duct-tape and a pair of
Leda watched Jordan strip off five strips of duct-tape, tack
them by one corner to Leda's own outstretched arm, then crumple
the panties into a wad. "Jordan!" she whined.
"Hush," Jordan purred as she stuffed the panties into Leda's
pouting mouth... then plastered the first strip of tape across
her lips, used the second and third strips to form an "X"
directly over the first, then applied the fourth and fifth in
horizontal, overlapping fashion. She then used her fingers
and hands to smooth the layers of tape, making sure the adhesive
had a good grip. "I'll let you go back to work after
lunch," she purred, "wearing the belt under your dress, of
course. That should be an adequate test." She
stepped back and crossed her arms under her breasts,
again. "And if you're a good girl and don't pout,
whine, and make a general nuisance of yourself, I'll unlock the
belt before you go home. Otherwise, we'll extend the test
Leda watched as Jordan returned the scissors and tape to the
"But now that I think of it," Jordan said as she strolled to
another workbench and began sorting the clutter of tools,
"overnight is probably a good idea." She turned and
grinned at her naked, spreadeagled, belted, and gagged Testing
Assistant. "We'll see."
Leda heaved a sigh, hung in her chains (to be overly dramatic)
and watched Jordan get organized to start her next
project. She imagined Robin in her place... naked,
chained, belted, and gagged. Better yet, she imagined
Robin next to her, with both of them naked,
chained, belted, and gagged. That would require Jordan to
install a second set of "testing chains," of course, but that
was her problem. Leda shivered in her steel bonds and
sighed through her panty-gag. Robin had stated last night
that she suspected her roomie was into damsels-in-distress, but
that hadn't been a surprise. Leda had shared vague
accounts of her escapades as a bondage tester for the Archer
Metals artists; however, Robin had absolutely no clue
about Leda's "secret life." Her roomie had no idea
what happened to Leda during her infrequent "vacations."
What would she think if she saw me like this? Leda
wondered. I bet she'd think it was funny.
Anyway... how can I... bring her along? The last
thing Leda wanted was to scare away her BFF. That said,
last night's experiment had been Robin's idea. It was an
opening, and Leda needed time to think about how to
proceed. Luckily (or not), Jordan seemed perfectly willing
to give her that time.
|| Chapter 1