Charlie's Birthday [M/F]

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StringTheorist
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Charlie's Birthday [M/F]

Post by StringTheorist »

Charlie’s Birthday

“Hello, Charlie,” said Chuck as he answered my ring of his doorbell at #8 Pleasant Dr. “It’s only 2 pm, and I had suggested around 5.” It was not as if I was lucky with traffic as I live at #17. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you.” Both of us had seen more than three quarters of a century of birthdays, and had been neighbours for half. Each of us had lost our spouses within the last couple of years. I often made more dinner than I needed, and Chuck was more than willing to see home cooked food
to go to waist and not waste. He was going to repay all my meals with a Birthday Dinner.

“Come in, come in,” he invited. Chuck was in his usual check short sleeve shirt, grey flannel pants, and slippers (he kept a pair at my house and I had a pair at his), with a colorful cook’s apron on. I put down the large blue cloth bag I had carried over.

“I am just finished preparing a salad the way you like it to go along with a seafood casserole over rice. Would you like me to start cooking your birthday dinner right now?”

“Actually, I would like a birthday present from now until dinner.”

“And that is?”

“I would like to be tied up and blindfolded for the afternoon.”

Chuck wasn’t sure what to say, standing there with his eyes popping out, mouth agape.

“All afternoon, fastened to a straight back chair, in the room that used to be your darkroom. Hardly able to move, sensory deprived.” I knew things about Chuck that made me sure I was safe with him.

“Why?”

I said, “My late husband Richard and I sometimes engaged in bondage. When he tied me up so that I was immobile, I entered a trance like state, mindlessness. Drifting in and out of sleep. But sometimes I would awake in a state of arousal that I found very pleasant. Time did not pass speedily, it seemed to stand still, save for a few periods of excitation.

“As long as I was comfortably bound I could last several hours.

“Afterwards I felt calm, relaxed.”

“What way would you like to be tied?” he asked.

“Wrists crossed behind the back of the chair, supported. Fastened to the chair at my shoulders, above and below my bosom, at my waist. Legs tied separately to the chair legs at my ankles. Knees tied to the seat with ropes under the seat. A rope around my front just below my hips, tied back to the top of the back chair legs. Where possible, cinched.

“If my hands and arms are done last, I can help with the placement of the bindings. I’ll put in ear plugs and you can blindfold me.”

“I don’t think it would be a good idea to gag you so you can’t call out if you are in trouble.”

“That’s fine.”

“Maybe you need the washroom first?”

When I returned, still in my blue grey plain cotton dress, I sat on the chair, a high back padded kitchen chair with a chromed pipe structure. Lots of places to secure the ends of ropes which Chuck had extracted from my handbag, and sorted them in order of length. He had placed the small pads neatly next to the ropes which were all 1/4” in diameter, ends neatly taped.

“Start with my ankles with a short rope,” I instructed, “Putting one of the pads between my leg and the chair leg. Wrap several turns, then cinch, please.”

It felt nice to be in the process of being restrained. We continued with my knees, then a rope around my thighs and the seat, with a cinch rope between my legs and the chair. Before tightening the cinch, I had him put a couple of the pads under each of my legs, either side of the cinch rope so the cinch wouldn’t be uncomfortable to sit on. I also had Chuck pull on the cloth of my dress to pull out any folds under my thighs.

One end of a medium length rope was tied around the left rear chair leg under the seat, then pulled over my abdomen and run around the right chair leg and back to the left leg. This rope was cinched across the back of the chair at the seat level, and snugged up.

Other bindings were added, and cinched – at my hips, waist, below and above the assets I have. Finally, a rope was placed behind my neck, over my shoulders and through my armpits, across the back where it was tied, then fastened to the rope across the back of my neck causing my shoulders to be pulled back.



Finally my wrists were secured – this is the part I like best but prefer it to be the first part tied, not the last. I have a little shiver as my wrists are secured in a diagonal cross – rope up and down, then across horizontal, then a cinch loop between my wrists. The ends of the rope were pulled up and tied to the rope across the back of my neck and taking the load off my arms so they weren’t pinched where they crossed the uprights. I could move my wrists a little side to side; on his own Chuck added a rope from upright to upright and around the cinch in between my wrists to limit this motion.

Ahh, nice and secure. Chuck slipped a strip of plywood between the ropes and the back of the chair, and wound one of those stretchy exercise bands across my forehead to hold my head from drooping forward and act as a blindfold as a piece de resistance. A padded ring of a towel sat behind my head and the strip helped keep my head from slipping sideways if I drifted off to sleep. Chuck left, dousing the light.

I let myself go, comfortable, enjoying once again the feeling of helplessness. But no panic. I knew I was safe with Chuck.

-------

“Charlie, wake up.”

I stirred, a little stiff. I don’t know if I was asleep, or in a trance that I worked myself into after about a quarter of an hour.

I felt a straw at my lips, and sucked in a sip of fresh water. “Thanks.”

During dinner Chuck probed my feelings about the bondage session. “Very pleasant, calming yet exciting in a way. I let my mind turn off – put it into a state of idleness, not allowing it to concentrate on problems, issues. Just monitor the arousal within my body. Relaxing. An ecstatic tranquility of mind, I could have lasted longer.”

Chuck wanted to know more details on my inner excitement which were very satisfying but I won’t bother repeating here. I asked him what his reactions were – astonishment, glad that near octogenarians could enjoy kinky activities. Yes, he was somewhat excited, but his prostate cancer had limited what his manhood could do these days.

As he walked me across the street towards my home, I asked, “Would you like to come over for dinner on your birthday next month? It will be nice and warm,” I said, “you won’t have to wear a lot of clothes. In between cooking, and courses of dinner, I think I can find something I can do for you, with you. With ropes.”