Tights Bondage

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Tights Bondage
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Babes hogtied on a bed, girls in transparent negligees who are bound, gagged and exposed, women tied with their own pantyhose, bombshells silenced and crotch-roped and ladies trussed and fon... Read all Babes hogtied on a bed, girls in transparent negligees who are bound, gagged and exposed, women tied with their own pantyhose, bombshells silenced and crotch-roped and ladies trussed and fondled are featured in this bondage video. Babes hogtied on a bed, girls in transparent negligees who are bound, gagged and exposed, women tied with their own pantyhose, bombshells silenced and crotch-roped and ladies trussed and fondled are featured in this bondage video.
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What you are about to read is a sequel to the second episode in my Long Time Bound compendium of short stories. However, it is presented in this collection as it doesn’t fit the criteria for the Long Time Bound series, which all involve me being tied up and kept helpless by and/or with various female companions. This tale, as the title suggests, concerns my attempts to initiate the willingly submissive Amanda into the joys of tights (and tape) bondage.
Those of you familiar with Long Time Bound 2 will recall that, at the very beginning of the story - indeed the catalyst for the strange little adventure that I and my female colleagues embarked upon - Amanda’s asserted - totally out of the blue and, at the time completely falsely - that “he ties us up with tights”. It was a throw-away remark and spoken in jest, but sowed the seeds of what was to follow. You may also remember that, at the conclusion, when I suggested that she might like to experience the joys of being tied up for herself, Amanda had replied with a smile, “You know what? Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer....sometime.” And thus were the foundations of what I’m about to relate laid down.
It was about two weeks after the incidents detailed in Long Time Bound 2 had occurred, that the next episode in our little saga evolved. And this time, the only participants in our strange drama were Amanda and me.
I’d been trying to get my three work colleagues interested in a repeat performance of the events that had unfolded in the light of the revelations regarding my bondage and spandex obsessions, but to date had been unable to get any of them to commit to a third such venture; there always seemed to be other engagements in their calendars that excused them as being too busy. In truth, I think they’d gone a bit cold on the idea, and that they were finding reasons not to get involved in what they perceived as a rather weird and perverted pastime.
At least that was the vibe I was getting from Jackie and Louise. Amanda, on the other hand, was a bit of an enigma. For although the subject hadn’t been broached openly since then, I felt, from the occasional hint and knowing look that passed between us, that she was still inquisitive about the subject, and not averse to delving deeper into the world of strict bondage. And the fact that she’d not completely rejected the idea that she might like to experiment with the other side of things - i.e. to be trussed up herself - made me desperate to see if I could cajole her into taking this whole tie-up fantasy to another level. I just needed to find the appropriate moment to bring the topic to the fore again.
So when, on a Thursday afternoon, Amanda once again brought up her on-going theme of being “tied up with tights” I was overjoyed. I can’t remember the exact context in which she used the phrase, but I do know that only she and I were present at the time, and that the implication was that she once again wanted to discuss the matter.
As I’d done before, I reiterated the fact that, as tights were manufactured from stretch material, they would be no real substitute for ropes and handcuffs as a medium for binding anyone’s arms or legs, as they’d have to be pulled so ultra-tightly to stop the person escaping, that they would bite deeply and dangerously into flesh, with the possibility that circulation and muscle function could be adversely affected. But I’d been secretly hoping this situation would arise again, and hadn’t been idle in putting much thought into coming up with an alternative plan.
“However, I think I know of another way we could use hosiery to keep you from moving around.”
“Very mysterious! I’ll look forward to finding out what it is you have in mind.”
“Ok,” I told her “I’ll try to get something organised.”
On my way home that evening, I popped into the local Sainsbury’s superstore and bought all I’d need to bring my scheme to fruition. As well as purchasing two large reels of grey duct tape - each fifty metres in length - I also picked up several pairs of tights from the store’s own “Tu” range, in various colours, sizes and denier ratings (N.B. other hosiery brands are also available).
No firm date and time had been set for what I hoped would be a bondage extravaganza , but that night, as I finalised my intended course of action, I made up my mind that there was no time like the present, and that tomorrow would be the day that Amanda received her initiation into the world of inescapable restraints. I therefore travelled into work on that Friday morning with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation coursing through my veins. Once again, Amanda and I were to be the only ones on duty in our office, and I decided that, although I planned to take my co-worker out of commission from a work perspective, covering for her, with all the extra workload that this would entail, would be well worth the effort. My reward, of course, would be the sight of my female colleague all bound, gagged and helpless.
“Wait a minute.” I hear the slightly perplexed reader say. “Surely you weren’t planning to tie Amanda up in the workplace, were you?”
Well the answer to that question is both yes and no.
Yes, insofar as the building in which I intended to incarcerate her was our place of employment. But no, not in full view of every other member of staff who happened to come into the office that day. Instead, I knew of a secret cupboard that would double up very nicely as a prison cell, and one where we - or indeed Amanda once she was tied up and abandoned – wouldn’t be disturbed.
I entered the office at around eight thirty that morning. As usual, Amanda was in before me; totally oblivious to the fact that her working day was to be cut short. After exchanging the usual greetings and pleasantries, I took a deep breath, pulled open the rucksack that I carried with me, and allowed her to view the contents.
“I’ve brought a few gifts for you. I thought you might like to try them on today.”
Amanda gazed into the bag. When she saw the multiple pairs of tights – still in their packaging - she gasped audibly.
She met my eye with a look that said “Are you being serious?”, but didn’t immediately rule the possibility out. This was a good sign, I felt. So feeling encouraged, I began to outline the way I envisioned the day’s events enfolding, finishing with a line I hoped would clinch matters, if she’d had any doubts up to now.
“And I’ll be taking on your workload in the meantime, so you can relax and enjoy yourself while I have to go through all the usual mundane Friday drudgery.”
Luckily, however, I believe Amanda was already sold on the idea long before I reached this point, with the incentive of getting out of a day’s hard graft being simply the icing on the cake, and not a major factor in the decision making process . For I perceived, as I made my speech, that she was smiling, nodding her head, and generally appeared quite keen - or at times extremely enthusiastic - to sample what I had in mind.
The cupboard to which we retreated, hereafter thought of by me as ‘the dungeon’, was in actual fact the finance office records store, in which was stashed box after box of paperwork that covered several years accounts, invoices and other documents, piled from floor to ceiling on wooden shelves that ran all the way around the room. There was also a metal lockable cupboard which housed more sensitive material. The room - approximately twenty feet square, at a guess - boasted no window, and was lit by a single neon strip light.
“This should be the ideal place for our little experiment.” I announced as I unlocked the door and entered.
Amanda, following closely behind me, gave no indication that she was in any way unhappy with the location, although it occurred to me at that moment that I’d not actually placed any precise time constraints on her maiden bondage encounter, and therefore wasn’t certain whether the prospect of several hours here would appeal or not. I chose, however, not to bring this issue up at present, figuring that once I had her tied and helpless she would no doubt be won over to the joys of bondage and be happy to remain my willing prisoner for as long as I desired.
I locked the door behind us, just to ensure that nobody came in and disturbed our secret assignation. Amanda stood facing me, a look of expectation offset by a touch of nervousness etched on her face. With an anxious smile, she turned and placed her hands behind her back. But there was something I needed to ask of her first; a subject that I was slightly edgy about broaching.
“Erm, you’ll need to take your blouse off before we start.” I blurted out sheepishly.
I’d explained a couple of weeks ago, when the girls had first seen me in my spandex cat-suit, about baggy clothing not being conducive to any good bondage session, and I reiterated this now, emphasising that folds and creases only got in the way when tying someone up. And it was with a sigh of relief that Amanda seemed to take my reasoning on board, and began unbuttoning the silk top she wore. Once this had been discarded, and she presented herself to me naked above the waist save for her bra, the realisation that she was a fine looking female hit me, and it took all my self control to remember that she was a married woman, and that I had to reign myself in. We were here to see if she enjoyed being tied up - nothing more, nothing less - I had to keep reiterating to myself. Calming my racing pulse, I pulled one of the giant spools of duct tape from my bag. A look of consternation came across Amanda’s face, however.
“I thought you were going to tie me up with tights?”
Turning her around and gently drawing her hands behind her back, I explained that, while tights were indeed going to be the main binding medium, a little preliminary work needed to be carried out first. As I spoke, I held her wrists together, palm to palm, then wrapped three or four ultra-tight circuits of tape around the narrowest section of her arms and smoothed it down.
When you first introduce someone to bondage, there’s always a chance that they’ll lose their nerve, and that the moment that you’ve fixed the first restraint in place, they’ll take fright, decide that this form of pleasure is not for them, and ask you to release them immediately. Fortunately, this wasn’t the case with Amanda. For although I noticed her give a little tug on her arms, as if trying to part them, a cheeky grin suddenly appeared on her face.
I informed her that this was just the start, and if she thought that was restrictive, she hadn’t seen anything yet. And to my great delight, the prospects of more of the same seemed to intrigue and excite her.
Extracting the first pair of tights from their packaging – black, opaque, forty denier - I stretched out one leg and held it up to show Amanda the tunnel into which I planned to insert her arms. A look of enlightenment suddenly lit up her face, as she seemed to get the gist of where this was going, and she turned again to offer her taped arms for entry into the constrictive mesh cul-de-sac. Easing the strong yet pliable fabric up over her elbows, I pulled the now severely stretched waistband around her shoulders, leaving her limbs encased in a makeshift mitten from which she wouldn’t be able to wriggle out of again. Wrapping the unused leg around her upper arms and securing the toe end to the gusset with a strict knot, I once more picked up the reel of tape. Although Amanda had cottoned on to the concept of tights encasement early on, the notion of more tape being utilised at this time - both over the original circuits at her wrists and further up around her elbows - seemed to come as a surprise, although not – judging by the soft peals of laughter that frequently emanated from her throat - an unpleasant one. So what was I to do next? Well, seeing as how she seemed to have no problems with this method of restraint, I repeated the process all over again, with a second layer of tights accompanied by a further stratum of tape. That would keep her arms secure for the time being. So now it was time to move on to her legs.
Having already asked her to take off her blouse, and having this request willingly granted, I’m not sure why I was so nervous about getting Amanda to consent to the removal of her skirt. Perhaps it was the fact that this time I would be the one having to deal with the disrobing process which made me so unsure as to whether she would show willingness to comply. But my apprehension proved unfounded, as without hesitation she granted me permission to remove said obstacle, and seconds later I was unzipping her from the knee-length garment and allowing it to slip to the floor. Immediately she stepped out of the now discarded circle of fabric and waited, with a look of expectation on her face. It was the first time I’d seen her like this, and the curve of her hips and thighs in her taupe tights, which shimmered and glistened in the artificial light every time she moved, had me spellbound for a second or two, and it took a great effort to shake myself out of this reverie and concentrate on the matter in hand.
“Ok, it’s probably best if you sit down on the floor for this next bit.”
I put my hand on her shoulder and helped her to the ground. Removing her shoes, I placed her feet together side by side, and began a process comparable to that employed on her wrists of winding circuit after circuit of the strong adhesive tape around her ankles, then following this up with similar bindings both just below and just above her knees.
“You really are going to make sure that I can’t get away, aren’t you?”
Her voice had a sense of teasing mirth to it, which suggested that she was almost goading me to restrain her to the highest degree possible. And I had every intention of fulfilling - indeed exceeding - her expectations on this front. To this end, I now set about encasing both Amanda’s legs into one single avenue of nylon/lycra cladding, having selected one of the larger pairs of tights from yesterday’s shopping spree for the process. And to maintain the symmetry with her upper limbs, I again doubled up on the layers, adding more tape between each diaphanous sheath, to ensure a tight feel to her increasingly hindered and helpless state. Amanda helped me out as best she could as I went about this labour-of-love, lifting her legs from the floor when necessary, and raising her buttocks and pelvis high above the ground when I needed to ease the softly gliding fabric over her thighs and up to her waist.
Once this phase of the operation was concluded, Amanda lay back on the floor and stretched her lithe body to its fullest extent, pulling as hard as she could on the tape and tights cocoon that now ensnared her. After a few seconds, however, she relaxed and her whole body became limp. At this point, she exercised her toes and feet gently, which, I mused, gave her legs a striking resemblance to the tail of a trussed up mermaid.
“You know something? I don’t think I’m going to be able to get out of this.”
I reminded her that inescapability was the whole point of bondage, before letting her know that my quest to keep her as my prisoner was nowhere close to completion yet...not by a long way.
Taking another pair of tights from the wrapper, instead of stretching the mesh to its limits and getting them ready to apply to her limbs, I scrunched this pair - twenty denier, soft and smooth - up into a compact ball.
“Are you going to gag me with those?”
It was a rhetorical question, and one that she already knew the answer to, as she’d seen me gagged in identical circumstances only a couple of weeks before.
“Of course I am.” I told her. “Being tied up and gagged is an indivisible harmonious coupling that should never be broken. Bondage without a gag to complement it is like fish without chips, or Laurel without Hardy. Put bluntly, it’s just plain wrong. It throws the whole balance of yin and yang out of alignment.”
Amanda started to ask what the hell I was talking about, so I backed up my words with actions; stuffing the tights deep into her not totally unsuspecting mouth. And seconds later, it was her utterances that were incomprehensible rather than mine. Just to add insult to injury, I quickly wound several circuits of duct tape over her mouth and around her lower head, making it impossible to spit the gag out again.
Even though she was now helpless and speechless, there were still a few extra flourishes that I had in mind to make Amanda’s time in detention nice and cosy. Or, depending on your point of view, maybe stifling would be a better word.
Firstly, I picked out another pair of relatively thin, flesh coloured tights and deftly pulled one leg over Amanda’s head, so that the waistband and the top part of the leg were crumpled up around her neck. Taking both the surplus from the toe end of this leg, plus its unused counterpart, I wrapped these around her head three times at eye level, then knotted the two together on the bridge of her nose; forming, in the process, a makeshift blindfold. And finally, with Amanda surely thinking that there was very little more I could do to make escape more of a challenge, I retrieved from my bag two final pairs of finest hosiery. Like the pairs encasing her legs, these had been manufactured with the larger woman in mind. In other words, they were much bigger than the normal, standard size, and far too large for Amanda to have ever contemplated wearing in everyday mode. Taking the first of these XXL garments, I pulled the waistband down over her head, as I’d done with the blindfolding pair. This time, however, I didn’t stop at the neck, but stretched the leg over my submissively docile colleague’s shoulders, and slowly manoeuvred the now taut mesh over her breasts and down as far as the material would allow, which was roughly to the level of her waist. Wrapping the redun
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