by John Savage
Some men (and some women) may think it’s very erotic to see a scantily clad young woman tied tightly. Some young women may find it very erotic to be scantily clad and tied tightly. Some, just a few, manage to make a career of it, not only doing it publicly but also enjoying it – and much, much more – with like-minded individuals in private.
Elena Montez is a professional escape artist, one of the best. After all, she graduated from Stella Walters’ School for Escape Artists. But someone is sabotaging her escapes, and after she nearly drowns in the “Water Torture Tank”, she decides to call on her former teacher for help. Will they trap the saboteur at an important competition, or will this be Elena’s last performance?
Published 2/2016 Word count = 35,000
Elena kicked off her heels and stretched. “You know,” she began, “I think that maybe I need more practice at rope escapes.”
Stella smiled. They both knew what she was really asking for, and Stella was happy to provide it.
“Just happen to have some rope right here,” she said as she opened the suitcase. Sure enough, there were a couple lengths of white cotton clothesline neatly coiled up and waiting.
“You promise you’ll be gentle with me,” Elena said as she slid out of the red dress that had been drawing all the male eyes in the restaurant to her shapely legs. “It’s been a while since I was tied up with rope.”
“Last week,” Elena replied shyly. “But you will make it a challenge, won’t you?”
“Don’t I always?”
Before Stella had the coils of rope unwrapped, Elena had all her clothes off and was standing there with a twinkle in her eye.
“Oh, I see you’ve kept up with shaving your pubic hair,” she commented.
“I have to. Because of the skimpy costumes I have to wear. Some of those are soooo tight that any hair down there would show right through.”
“Right. And your sweet little pussy doesn’t?”
By the end of that little exchange, Elena’s hands were bound behind her back and her elbows were caught in the rope and coming together to be tightly bound. Which did wonders to make her breasts stand out.
“Oh…” Elena sighed, “You tie so nice and tight.”
“You know that you’ll be punished if you fail to escape?”
“Of course. You taught me that punishments are necessary to assure maximum effort at the escapes. No slacking off if you know that something nasty will be coming if you fail.”
Stella jerked the last knot at the elbows tight and turned Elena around. “I recall that you were very, very good at moving your hands around in front of you even when the elbows were bound, as they are now. I’ll have to do something to prevent that.”
The something Stella had in mind was simple enough. She took some additional rope, wrapped it tightly around Elena’s arms and body at the narrowest part of her waist, and then cinched that rope down so tightly that it nearly disappeared into her waist.
As Stella was tying the final knot, Elena leaned forward and gently kissed Stella. “That’s ever so tight,” she whispered. “I can hardly breathe.”
“Good. You should feel the ropes strongly enough so you can’t forget that they are there.”
“Of course, Mistress.” Elena’s eyes were getting that far-away look as her world shrank down to just her and Stella and the ropes. She twisted and pulled on her arms, but they both knew it was not really an escape attempt but rather simply enjoying the feeling of her restraints. Her arms were now pretty much useless, welded to her back and each other. Given enough time, a good escape artist such as Elena could work her way of that bondage, but it would not be easy. In this case, she really did not want to get free. They were not really practicing escapes.
Stella took her student’s head in both hands and gently kissed her on the lips. Elena responded by pressing her bare breasts against Stella’s and returning the passion she felt. They were both feeling a hunger but were not eager to obtain the final satisfaction too fast. Slow and gentle, each level of excitement enjoyed before moving on to the next one, and a sharing of love as well as sexual arousal.
Soon Stella’s clothing was a pile on the floor and she was pushing Elena down to the bed. The girl moaned as Stella’s hands roved over her body, exciting every place they touched. Her mouth clamped on one breast and teased the nipple into a glorious state of rigidity.
The foreplay could not be extended forever, and soon Elena was breathing, “Now! Please, do it now! Let me at your lovely pussy!”
She was begging for the classic sixty-nine position so favored by lesbians everywhere. But Stella was in command and not ready begin what could not fail to lead to wonderfully satisfying orgasms for both of them. And she knew that Elena, while truly aching with desire and begging for pleasure, could be lifted to an even higher state of arousal. Pushing back the panting girl, she stood up to look down at the naked and bound woman.
“I don’t see any progress towards your escape,” she commented dryly.
“Oh, Mistress, I tried, but I’ve failed.” The voice was filled with self-pity. “I know I must be punished.”
Without being told to, she rolled over onto her stomach and slithered down until her hips were just off the bed and she was kneeling with her breasts pressed against the covers. She formed her hands into fists and pulled them away from her lovely, smooth ass. As she prepared herself to cry, Stella was fetching a riding crop from the suitcase.
The first swat was delivered without warning and struck her squarely on the right cheek. Elena yelped and jerked her bottom, but she did not move from that bent over position. The next one came on the left cheek. For a few seconds, Stella admired the two red spots on that cute little ass before adding to the count.
After a dozen such strokes, and none of them mild or half-hearted, Elena was crying. And it was for real. That riding crop was not much as real whips go, but it hurt and made the girl’s ass burn.
“Turn over,” came the command that Elena expected. While not eager about the next stage in this little drama, she struggled to turn over without hands to help. She rested her hips on the edge of the bed and spread her feet widely apart to expose her shaved and oh-so-sweet little pussy. She leaned backwards, which pushed her breasts out and up to make them a better target. She said nothing, but Stella could see honest fear in her eyes. There was something worse than a few swats on the rear coming, and Elena knew it would really hurt. That was the way the game was played. The bondage was real and the ropes both tight and effective at robbing her of hands and arms. Likewise, the pain would be real. No love-taps, not play acting, nothing like that. Stella was going to hurt Elena.
But this was a strange punishment because it was given and taken out of love, not hate or anger. These two women were playing an exciting game that few women ever dare explore. Strange as it would seem to most people, this binding, this giving of pain, and this domination of one over the other was an act of love. They were both riding high on an emotional and exciting trip.
“You should try harder,” Stella told the student.
“This will help you remember that.”
She struck the left breast hard enough to indent the flesh and make it bounce. Elena squealed loudly and jerked her body away from the riding crop. A nice red blotch was forming on that breast, right next to the nipple. Stella backhanded the other breast, adding a matching red mark to it and making Elena whine like a whipped cur. But she immediately resumed the position that offered her body to the riding crop.
“Brace yourself,” Stella said needlessly. Then she swung the riding crop upward between the spread legs. This time there was a real scream as the pain on her most sensitive place lanced up into her body. She twisted up into a ball, and slid down to the carpet where she lay moaning.
Knowing that the timing was just right, Stella dropped the crop and lifted Elena to her feet. She pushed her over and watched as she bounced on the bed. Then she was on the bound girl, grabbing a breast with one hand and squeezing tightly enough to bring fresh tears to her eyes. Her other hand sought the injured place between Elena’s legs, pushing them apart to gain access. The finger inserted came out wet and warm. Were she a man, she would have rammed her penis deep into that tunnel and it would have slid in nicely and been welcomed. But Stella was not a man, and she had no penis with which to ravish her lover.
Instead, she climbed atop Elena’s body as she lay on her bound arms, turned around and brought her face down to her pussy, while wrapping her arms around the girl’s hips to hold her.
Having no arms to hold onto Stella, Elena lifted her head and sought to do the same to her Mistress. As Stella started giving a good tongue-lashing to Elena’s clitoris, she lowered her hips to make it easier for the younger girl to return the favor.
Both women tried to prolong the enjoyment, but the need was too great and soon they were both having intense orgasms accompanied by much trembling and moaning.
Afterwards, Stella took Elena in her arms, pushed one leg between hers and pulled them breast to breast on the bed. For a long time they both floated in the warm afterglow of lovemaking.
Both love and pain were given and taken in that strange sharing. Yet both were more than satisfied. And, on another day, they would exchange places in the erotic drama.