Forced Bondage Stories

Forced Bondage Stories
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“We’re heading out now, dear. Enjoy your evening, we’ll be back later tonight.” Nicole’s mother called from the front door.

“Bye Mom! Bye Dad!” the 18-year old called back. “Enjoy your anniversary dinner!” Through the window of her bedroom, she watched her parents walk down the driveway and get into the car and drive off.

After giving it a couple of minutes, just in case they had forgotten anything and had to come back, Nicole got up from the window and went to her closet. Stashed far in the back, hopefully where no prying parents would find it, was an old shoe box. Filling it was a mixe
“We’re heading out now, dear. Enjoy your evening, we’ll be back later tonight.” Nicole’s mother called from the front door.

“Bye Mom! Bye Dad!” the 18-year old called back. “Enjoy your anniversary dinner!” Through the window of her bedroom, she watched her parents walk down the driveway and get into the car and drive off.

After giving it a couple of minutes, just in case they had forgotten anything and had to come back, Nicole got up from the window and went to her closet. Stashed far in the back, hopefully where no prying parents would find it, was an old shoe box. Filling it was a mixe
"Tell me why I'm here again?" Mina groaned to her good friend Alex as she was currently wearing a purple tank top with a black skirt with black knee-high socks and black and purple shoes on. Right next to her was Alex who was clad in a light blue tank top with a white coat over it with tan shorts with over the knee high white socks and brown shoes on.

"Because I know you'll play the game as much as I will after I'm done with it and I like a little company when getting a new game," Alex said standing outside of a local video game store called GameGo.

"More like I got the short draw...." Mina thought while remembering last night while drawing
Part two:

…Carol glanced at the clock. It was near 11:30. She'd been bound nearly three hours now. Her gag had gone from annoying to very uncomfortable in that time. The inside of her mouth was dry as a desert and her jaws were beginning to ache from the large knot lodged between her teeth.

Carol's arms and legs had fallen asleep after being bound so long. Every twitch sent little needles pocking into her extremities. She'd been sitting so long; she could no longer feel her butt at all.

Carol glanced over at her mother. She was dozing a little. The two captives had had little else to do during their captivity. For his part, their capt

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.............as the dazzling lights reflected in a hundred mirrors, I spun him around.

"Natasha! Pleeeease! Not here!", he pleaded.

I had to laugh to myself. How many times had he confided exactly this
fantasy to me? This persistent obsession with forced, public
feminization. How often had we made passionate love after running through
some fantasy scenario at home?

Of course he wanted it! Often he admitted as much. There was just some
obsessive component of his masculinity that resisted. Some fear of the
deeply held fantasy actually becoming reality.

But here we were. In Helen's Beauty Shope. I had made arrangements in
advance for the whole thing; careful to avoid letting him catch on. Then,
on a "whim" this afternoon, I suggested we run into town. Without that
element of surprise, I knew the whole experience would be worthless. And
this was Definitely a surprise!

"Lemme just stop in here", I told him,"and pick up some hair conditioner."

It was a struggle to not smile and give the whole thing away. Now, he was
going to get the "deluxe treatment". First a manicure, then false
fingernails, cemented, shaped and painted; permanent false eyelashes, and
a quick wash and blow dry. But until "Tami's" legs were shaved properly, I
saw no point in a pedicure.

The one thing that might be a real problem was if he panicked and ran off
screaming into the street. But I wasn't really worried. After all this
time, it wasn't just my hair that had been conditioned.

Right on cue Helen jumped in.

"We've been expecting you, Tami. Natasha told us just what you wanted.
I'm sure we'll have exactly what you like."

Helen's a doll. I've known her forever. When we were in school, how we
would fight! Constantly, over the stupidest things. I remember back when
she opened her first shop. That was back in the days when I actually sold
insurance. Now, I sit in front of a PC all day and run premium forecasts.
A crystal ball, by any other name. And they pay me for it.

Tami has helped me, I must admit it. He's had a lot of experience with
these things. Without Tami, I've no doubt my career would not have moved
as well as it has.

But for a while now, I've been naughty. These last three, four
months, I've been holding out on him. I know he wants to quit. Stay home.
Work on his writing. But one of us has to be secure, financially, with a
solid career. And there's no reason, nowadays, why that can't be me. I was
made VP three weeks ago, but told him nothing. It's what I've been working
towards for so long; what he's been helping me with too. The job was a
sort of informal goal for the two of us. I waited until everything was
finalized. Although I knew three weeks ago that I was going to get a title
and a raise, I wanted to make sure that the job I wanted was really
attached.

This week, everything finally came together. Oh! It's not perfect, of
course. nothing ever is. For instance, I was hoping for a MALE secretary.
Maybe 19 years old. Tight blue jeans. Ah- hem! never mind.

So, I'm in my friend Helen's Beauty Shop with my live-in boyfriend. We're
trying to get him to sit in the chair.

Should I play this? My problem has always been one of over analyzing these
situations. "Why won't he cooperate?" Does he really NOT like it? Or does
he like it and only want me to interact to complete the scenario? Or does
he only like it in the context of being forced to do it? Does being forced
provide a symbolic release of responsibility thereby allowing him indulge
in a fantasy which would be otherwise socially unacceptable? Is it bitch
goddess time?

I check my watch. Way too early, at least for us. It's never bitch
goddess time till 8:30 or 9. Definitely after dinner. It's only 3 PM.
What the hell, I'm paying for this.

"GET IN THE DAMM CHAIR ALREADY!" I shout.

Standing behind him, I spin him around. Did you ever notice how may lights
there are in beauty parlors? They dazzle him as he spins around, loses his
balance and plops unceremoniously in the chair.

Helen surveys the client/victim.

"Now Natasha, besides the HighLites (local trade jargon for false nails
and eyelashes) did you want the hair lightened or just wash 'n' dry?"

I groan inwardly. Besides my squirming, terrified, indecisive boyfriend,
I've got an old school chum who's trying to nickel and dime me to death.
Twenty bucks here and thirty bucks there and before you know it, your
talking real dough. And how long am I gonna keep him dolled up, anyway? I
mean if I'm gonna keep working full time (and I am) then one of us is
going to have to go out, for example, to do things like buy food.

The set up is interesting. He's in the last chair in the shop. Set, in
the back, in a sort of alcove. I believe they use it for uncooperative
kids. For what ever reason, it's the only chair in the beauty parlor with
a seat belt.

The bindings fit snugly around his waist and end behind him; out of easy
reach. Helen hands me two short 3 inch wide band. I smile. This is
exciting after all. I resist the urge to turn around and look at the other
people in the shop.

Helen was right, it's the slowest time of the day. Only one other
customer is getting worked on and another, way up front, on the way out. "

Natasha", Tami smiles as though he can still make a deal, "we can't do
this. I mean really. Come on, now."

I've always loved his smile. He can be a real charmer.

I smile back. "Oh yes we can, Tami dearest!", I purr.

And since time is money, Helen grabs his right wrist and binds it the
armrest with the velcro band. He's REALLY startled by that. This is
pushing his limit, I'm sure. But I'm ready and grab his other wrist,
binding it likewise.

We've done it! He squirms and pulls. But Helen is prepared for that too!
She flips a switch and the chair suddenly tilts way back. His head is now
level with or just below his feet. She spins the chair till he's
positioned over the sink.

"Now hold still dear so I don't get any soap in your eyes" she says as she
turns on the water. She uses a ton of soap and in no time at all whips up
a foamy lather.

I sit down and compose myself. This is something that we've both wanted to
try for a long time. Still, having it suddenly translated into reality is
exciting. I figure I'm committed to it for at least the next few weeks.
How long after that, I wonder.

Will we get married now? Can he cook, clean, keep house all day Is this
the kind of man I wanted? Will he publish another article? a book? work
part time as a consultant? It's early May now, how are we going to resolve
these things in '89?

You ever notice the magazines they have in beauty parlors? I mean, did
Michael Jackson really marry himself? Is Elvis still dead? If a 12 year
old girl marries 92 year old man and has twins, who cares! But how many
deductions would the IRS allow for such a couple? Can either of them open
an IRA account? And if I was a space alien, would I really want to travel
a million light years to talk with a fat lady in curlers?

I look over at Helen. He's seated up now and she's drying his hair. She
didn't get nearly enough water on his shirt! I told her to make sure his
shirt was wet after the wash! I want to have a seemingly plausible reason
for making him change. Not that one will be needed .

"Can we start on this now?", I ask her, indicating his hands.

I don't want this to be an all day project. Her manicurist is just
finishing with another customer. "Gina will be right over", she assures
me. I smile mischievously at Tami.

I innocently bring up the matter of work and my new position. He's really
surprised. More by this news than his treatment. At least now he
understands what prompted me to make this daring public move.

I'm sure he always suspected that if I ever really did "make" him wear
painted, false fingernails, it would be at Helen's place.

Of course, I also suspected that he never figured on false eyelashes as
well.

He hadn't!

I smiled inwardly at my own sneaky cleverness. The eyelashes were a nice
touch, if I say so myself. Yes, some make-up and a change of clothes and
he could probably "pass" fairly well. I'm surprised by the feelings I'm
experiencing and also feeling pleased with myself for planning the whole
thing so well. I smile to myself.

Helen is adding the frost to Tami's brown hair when Gina, the manicurist,
came over.

"Give the young lady any trouble, Tami, and I'll have your ears pierced
before we leave!" I threatened.

This was also a fantasy that we had discussed in the past. I knew that,
by this point, he could no longer tell what I would and wouldn't do. The
suddenness of it all, the details like false eyelashes, my promotion, all
combined to throw him off base. And that, most of all, was exactly what I
wanted.

As Gina works methodically applying the sculptured nails Helen pulls me to
side.

"Natasha, this is turning out so well, I'm
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