Free Stories On Bondage

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Free Stories On Bondage
A Bondage Sex-Cation Inspired by 'Fifty Shades' Helped Me Let Go of Control In My Relationship
I needed a break from my own bossiness. And I found it...
As I prepped for the trip, my need for this evening became even more obvious.
As we walked into our bondage suite at Desire, I put my cynical mind and mocking M.O. aside and instantly got in the mood.
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My boyfriend , John*, and I have been engaged in a weird power struggle lately. I often find myself getting frustrated that he's not taking charge, but the real issue is that I'm so consistently taking the lead with everything that he doesn't even get a chance to do so. I go overboard in correcting, controlling, and being short with him, but it has been nearly impossible to get ahold of myself.
If past years of therapy have served me well, then I can psychoanalyze this one myself: I am a quick-talking, loud Italian from the East Coast, and John is a chill, laid-back Californian. I'm simply wired faster, and because of that, I get impatient easily. Not that it makes it right.
In just 48 hours, for instance, I did the following:
Yes, I've been too bossy lately. And, no, I'm not proud of it.
That's where our trip to Desire Riviera Maya Resort came in. Desire Riviera Maya Resort and its nearby sister hotel, Desire Riviera Maya Pearl Resort, are luxury, adults-only, couples-only, clothing-optional , destinations just outside of Cancun, Mexico. They're popular with swingers, polyamorous couples, and people who like to get—as Anastasia Steele would say in Fifty Shades Darker —their "kinky fuckery" on.
Maybe playing the submissive role could teach me to surrender, to let go of control, to let John lead for once. Essentially, to be a little more like submissive Anastasia Steele and less like the dominating Christian Grey, even if just for a night. It's a lot of work being in charge all the time.
John and I are not swingers. (Though there's nothing wrong with swinging.) But Desire Resorts hand-picked me to test-drive their brand new "Desire Bondage Fantasy" night, a private bondage experience guided by two of the resort's pole dancers—Amber* and Antonio*—and inspired by the Fifty Shades franchise.
The $500 fantasy night, which we were lucky enough to experience sans charge, is part of Desire Resorts' world-famous Fantasy Menu , which also features erotic massage, pole dance lessons, sex on the beach, and more. It's designed to teach you to "surrender to your partner" and "journey into a dark, erotic place."
It's hard to pass up a good sex-cation, so I opted to dive into the role of the submissive. Or, at least, to try to dive in.
Even though I've only seen the Fifty Shades films as a "hate-watcher," laughing and mocking them aloud, I do dabble in some mild BDSM from time to time. A little spanking. Some handcuffing. A good flogging is nice. Feather tickling always gets me going. Unable to control myself, I barked out the following orders:
Rule No. 1 of bondage : There is no giggling. John's a happy guy, and I love him for that, but he does tend to giggle when he should be serious, and bondage is serious business.
Rule No. 2 of bondage: No smiling! Happy-go-lucky John has a great smile, but it's not right in this scenario. "Christian Grey doesn't smile as he spanks. I need you to put your best fuck-face on, please," I said.
Rule No. 3 of bondage: He would be in charge. He would be the dominant. He would be Christian Grey. I would be the submissive. I would be Anastasia Steele. If I tried to direct him, I needed him to stop me, spank me, or gag me.
Realizing I'd already broken Rule No. 3 by telling John what to do, I went into the experience quietly but firmly repeating to myself over and over in my head: Don't micromanage. Don't correct him. Be more like Ana. Enjoy taking the backseat for once .
Before we left, I even had a dream that a bartender called me the C-word. What's worse, dream-John agreed with him—and so did I. Upon waking, I realized I didn't want to give up my all of my assertiveness, but I did want a more equal partnership where we could each take control sometimes rather than me calling all the shots.
Even in the Fifty Shades sequel, where Anastasia took more of a stand than in her first go-around with Christian, she was able to balance being submissive with being a strong, independent woman. Balance is the key here. If Ana could do it, I could, too.
It was hard not to. The room was bathed in pinkish-red light (a nod to Christian Grey's infamous Red Room) as the Fifty Shades Darker soundtrack played in the background. A pink satin bed with heart-shaped pillows was quite enticing, along with the yummy spread of chocolate-covered strawberries , a bottle of Moët & Chandon Champagne, and a can of whipped cream.
There was a lot to take in: a black leather sex swing, a stripper pole, his and her masquerade ball masks (one that looked very similar to Ana's in Fifty Shades Darker ), and a box of California Exotic Novelties sex toys in a gorgeous silk black and red brocade. They included a leather flogger, restraints, and a ball gag so I could shut up for once. There was also a butt plug , which John instantly vetoed. I acquiesced—one small step toward letting go of control.
Alas, the toy box did not have the Fifty Shades of Grey Trust Me Adjustable Spreader Bar and Cuff Set that Christian used to open Ana up wide then flip her over, but the wrist and ankle restraints were good by me!
After our bondage hosts performed a sexy dance as Christian and Ana on the pink settee, then dazzled us with their sexy moves on the stripper pole, they led John and me from the bed to the pole. (Watching was very hot, by the way! Might need to explore voyeurism a bit more.)
As Amber took off my dress, Antonio pulled my arms over my head and instructed John to tie me to the pole with the wrist restraints from our sex toy box.
"Tie me tighter," I told John. Ugh! Epic fail.
Before I could even correct myself for being bossy again, Amber whipped my ass with the flogger and firmly whispered in my ear, "You are Anastasia. He is Christian Grey."
I tried to focus on what Amber said and let myself be Anastasia. John even put the ball gag on me so I couldn't say another word. Sure, he was clumsy at bondage at first. Who isn't? But then he surprised me and ended up getting in a good flogging. He even figured out how to use the sex swing without me helping him out.
While it's going to take a lot more than one night to learn to truly submit, this wasn't a bad start.
Discussing my struggle with control was one of those relationship conversations I wanted to avoid. But when I told John, his reaction wasn't what I expected.
"You think I think you're a c*nt? Oh my God. No. I never even thought to roll my clothes; I was able to fit so much more in my bag because of it."
He doubled-down, although he did add: "Well, maybe you can let me figure things out a bit on my own and just let me do it!"
Upon further reflection, I think I know what's going on. We're nine months into our relationship and planning on moving in together in a month. It's been several years since I lived with anyone. Naturally, a little bit of anxiety comes with that.
I think in the darkest recesses of my mind, there is this fear of having to compromise for the first time in years. I'm used to doing things my way, and the idea of having to work in a partnership again after years of being HBIC is making me a little on edge.
I'm still figuring out how to remain a strong, independent, do-everything-myself feminist while balancing how to take a backseat once in a while. It's scary, but I know it's doable.
"I'm glad we're working this out before I move in," he said.
When we returned home, I found myself starting to take charge again. This time it was a bottle of cabernet and one of those old-school corkscrew wine openers. As John struggled to open the wine, instead of taking it out of his hand like I did with the Champagne, I thought, What's the worst that can happen? We get a little cork in our cab. So what?
I'd rather pick cork out of my teeth than be called the C-word again—even if it's just in my dreams!
*Names have been changed to protect the kinky.
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Genre:

Erotica / Fantasy



Author:
Steve_Spandex




Rating:

★
5.0
1 review



Age Rating:
18+



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A collection of 'Damsel-in-Distress' short stories. 'A Few Short Tales of Trapped Females' is a compendium of 'Damsel-in-Distress' short stories focusing primarily on bondage/peril scenarios. Most are one part stories, complete within themselves, although a few are in two parts where noted as such. This is an on-going project which will be updated and added to with new stories from time to time.
Suzy pulled on the tight fitting cat-suit with a rising sense of anticipation. The shiny metallic black outfit glistened in the morning sunlight that streamed in through her bedroom window as she slowly eased the skin-tight fabric up legs already sheathed in black tights; smoothing out any wrinkles as she proceeded up over her thighs and hips to her waist, then onwards over her bare breasts and shoulders, slipping her arms into the waiting sleeves before finally reaching her throat. Dexterously reaching behind her back, she pulled the zipper upwards to her neck. She was now encased from ankle to neck in the figure hugging suit; the stirrups under her feet ensuring that the legs wouldn’t ride up. Turning to admire herself in the full length mirror, the image that stared back at her was of a slim young woman in a second skin of shining spandex that produced a faint swishing sound as she sashayed across the room. Suzy always deliberately purchased her cat-suits – of which she had many – a size too small. That way she ensured that there were no folds, creases or wrinkles; just one smooth layer that clung to her skin over every square millimetre of her beautiful young figure.
The clear blue sky presaged a day of warmth and sunshine; a perfect early spring day to be out in the open air. But Suzy had other plans for this Friday. Indeed, she’d taken the day off work for one reason and one reason only; so that she could tie herself up. For not only did Suzy love the feeling of ultra tight clothing, she also had a passion for being bound and gagged as securely as possible. And that was how she envisaged spending most of today; in a self induced state that was as near to inescapable as safety would allow. Being a solo endeavour, of course, she knew that she could never attain that longed for state of complete helplessness that she one day hoped to experience. Being too embarrassed to broach the subject with any of her friends, no one else in the world knew of her kidnap and bondage fantasies, so to date she had never had the pleasure of being inescapably bound by a third party. Self bondage, however, was the next best thing and as close as she could get to this ultimate goal for now.
Suzy tied her long brown hair back into a ponytail and began preparing for the day ahead. Firstly, she positioned the sturdy upright chair that was to be her binding point in the centre of the room, close to the foot of the bed. Next she opened the bag that contained all her bondage equipment: the ropes, straps, tape, gags, handcuffs etc, which she’d acquired over the past few years. Laying out what she needed on the floor, she sat down on the carpet, took the first length of rope and bound her ankles together as tightly as she could. Cinching the rope so that she would be unable to wriggle free, she knotted this first bond and tested its efficiency by pulling and wrenching with all her strength. Satisfied that no amount of struggling would in any way cause the rope to loosen, she took the next rope and performed an identical procedure just below her knees. Two more bonds - one just above her knees, the other around her thighs – completed the immobilisation of her legs. Holding onto the chair, she stood up and checked her appearance in the mirror; the clean, bright whiteness of the rope contracting starkly with her shiny black cat-suit and panty-hosed feet.
Placing the rest of the items needed to complete her captivity on the bed, Suzy sat herself down on the chair and picked up the next length of rope. Attaching one end of this to the already secured ankle bond, she bent her legs up under the seat of the chair as high as they would go, pulled the rope upwards behind her as tightly as she could, then wound it around the back of the chair several times, before bringing the ends back down to her ankles. This manoeuvre proved extremely difficult as, with her feet now incapable of reaching the floor, she had to lean precariously to one side and stretch underneath the seat to secure the knot at her ankles. The chair was, however, manufactured from strong metal, extremely heavy and almost impossible to knock over. Once complete, Suzy sat upright again and tried to lower her feet to the floor. She found, as she had hoped, that this was now impossible; her feet instead being suspended in thin air six inches or so above the carpet.
More bonds soon followed, each aimed at ensuring that she had no way of moving away from the chair. First, a length of rope that encompassed both the seat and her thighs, which prevented her from attempting to lift her upper legs up off the chair. Secondly, a length of rope that she wound several times tightly around both her waist and the back of the chair, cinched this between the small of her back and the lower struts, then brought the ends around to the front and secured them with a firm knot on her stomach. Next, a rope harness that she commenced behind her neck, pulled down under her armpits, brought around to the front and criss-crossed her breasts, then continued over her shoulders back to its starting point, before repeating the process a further four times. Each circuit, of course, also encompassed the vertical metal struts on the back of the chair, so that once she had sealed the final knot just beneath her breasts, she found that she could no longer lean forward more than a fraction of an inch; her entire torso being lashed securely to her makeshift mooring post.
Although Suzy was now well and truly trapped on the chair, she still had one or two more items to secure in place before she was satisfied with her handiwork. Firstly, she took a black leather collar and tied one end of a short length of rope to the attached D ring. Putting the collar on, she secured the buckle at her throat, with the rope dangling at the rear of her neck. Reaching around, she sightlessly grabbed the free end of the rope, swiftly wound this around the top horizontal bar of the chair-back, pulled it taut so that her neck was forced backwards, then secured a knot which prevented her moving her head forwards again.
Suzy’s bondage was now almost complete. First, however, she slipped long black spandex gloves over each hand and pulled them up as high as they would stretch, which was just above her elbows. Next she took two pairs of tights, which she had previously rolled up into one tight ball, and pushed this into her mouth. The ball was too large, once wedged behind her teeth, to allow her to completely close her jaw. Nor would it be particularly easy to spit out. Not easy, but not impossible however. And for this reason Suzy knew that if this gag was going to effectively silence her, then she had to take action to prevent this being a viable option. To this end, she picked up a roll of grey duct tape off the bed, placed one end over her mouth and proceeded to wrap the instantly bonding tape around her face and lower head. Several circumnavigations later, each of which had been strategically placed either slightly higher or lower than the one before, her face, from chin to just below her nose, was smothered in a mass of tape, with the rolled up tights now sealed beneath.
Almost finished now, Suzy picked up her prized possession, a set of metal handcuffs that still had the key protruding from the lock on one of the bracelets. Testing the key in both locks to ensure that the release mechanisms still functioned correctly, she removed the key and placed it on her lap. Reaching around behind her, she looped one bracelet through the rope at her waist just behind the struts on the chair-back.
At this point she had originally intended to use the two remaining items on the bed – a leather sleep mask and a spandex hood that matched both her cat-suit and the gloves. However, from where she had positioned the chair, she realised that she could view herself in the full length mirror, and the thought of being able to watch herself struggling and writhing for the duration of her bondage game now appealed to her more than the option of being sightless. For once, she decided, she would forego the blindfold and hood, at least for the time being anyway. Later, if she got the urge, she could always unlock the handcuffs momentarily and add these to her vast array of bonds, then cuff herself again. With this decision made Suzy placed both arms behind the chair. Encircling her left wrist in the waiting manacle was easy enough, as she could use her right hand to help the process along. The sound of the rat
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