Laura by amensae (m/f, mm/f)

Post stories from past authors here. Remember to give credit where credit is due!

Moderator: Archiver

JohnnyRockets
Forum Contributer
Forum Contributer
Posts: 52
Joined: 5 years ago

Laura by amensae (m/f, mm/f)

Post by JohnnyRockets »

One more story by amensae from the old website, pulled from the internet archive:
https://web.archive.org/web/20150426021 ... 12&t=12210

Reproduced here for convenience.


1.
posted Thu Jan 19, 2012 12:30 am


Every once in a while
I'd see her smile
And she'd turn my day around,
A girl with those eyes
Could stare through the lies
And see what your heart was saying.
- Think of Laura, Christopher Cross

I got into tie-up games at an early age, and had played enough in my youth to be a veteran by my later teenage years. For that I have to thank my sister, who introduced me to TUGs and gave me many opportunities to practise and perfect my skills. Naturally, however, there was only so far I could go with her, so as I got older I looked for fresh damsels to put in distress. Yet it was not easy to find a partner who was willing to submit to my control. I didn't want to be known as the creepy guy who likes to tie up girls, so I had to plan my approach carefully.

The fact that I had already tied up a couple of my sister's friends was both a help and a hindrance. Although it wasn't part of everyday schoolyard chatter, the girls did talk about it. Among the other guys I acquired a (not really deserved) reputation for coolness; while a few of the girls began to take an intrigued interest in me. At the same time, this made it more difficult for me to "innocently" bring up the subject. I had a girlfriend then, but on the three or four occasions when I tried to get her to play, she was unresponsive. But in my senior school year, she and her family moved away. I didn't have another bona fide girlfriend until my sister introduced me to Michelle at university. We are still together, and she loves her TUGs.

In the meantime, I found Laura. She was a year older than me but in the same year level at school because she had spent a year overseas. I don't know how that held back her education, but it worked out nicely for me. We became good friends, though never girl- and boyfriend, more like study buddies. We always walked home from school together, and we passed by a small park on the way. Often we would sit under a tree in a secluded corner of the park and talk about our studies, our future careers and other grownup stuff, nothing trivial or frivolous. Although I had a crush on her, we never developed a romantic relationship. She was a serious-minded young woman, very intellectual and a lot more mature than me, even more so than the year's difference in our ages.

She was tall and trim and brunette and very pretty. She had dark, expressive eyes that could see all the way through you, or so it felt. One day, as we sat under our tree, she looked especially gorgeous. Her uniform skirt had ridden up her thighs, showing off the full length of her luscious legs; the top button of her school blouse had come or been undone, revealing just a peak of her white lace bra; and a soft breeze was ruffling her glossy chestnut hair back and forth across her slender neck and slim shoulders. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, her body swaying languidly, her pert nose wrinkling and her cherry lips pursing as she sipped the sensual delights of that dreamy late summer afternoon.

As she opened her eyes I said "No, close them again," and I reached into my schoolbag. For a second I felt a twinge of shame as I drew out the large square of black satin. After all, what sort of guy carries a blindfold around with him? But the fact is that I had been waiting for a chance like this, and my major concern was how Laura would feel. So I moved quickly, before she could respond. I folded the material and put it over her eyes. She quickly raised her hands, but not to pull it way. Rather, she smiled and placed her fingertips on the cloth to press it against her temples, and she turned her head to the side so I could more easily tie it in place. As I tugged on the ends to secure the knot, she gasped then giggled.

She moved her head about, up and down, to the left and to the right, getting used to the tightness of the binding and to the sensation of being sightless. Some girls find it disorienting and unnerving, others enriching and exhilarating. (As I'm sure guys do too, but I've only ever tied up girls.) Usually, the second feeling follows from the first, and that’s the way it was with Laura. She left the blindfold on for the whole of the rest of the time we sat under the tree, maybe an hour. At first it commanded her thoughts. All she could talk about was how it affected her perception of everything around her - the cool caress of the breeze, the warm embrace of the sunlight that filtered through the leaves, the sounds, the scents, even the tastes wafting through the air that you normally don't notice. After a while, however, the blindfold just became a part of her experience and she almost forgot that she was wearing it. We talked about other things, told jokes and shared gossip.

Laura was probably aware that in all the time we sat there I couldn't keep my eyes off her. Not that I could any other time, and because she knew I was gazing at her, it was really no different than if she had been able to see me. But I wasn't staring at her splendid legs or her gently heaving breasts. My focus was on that beautiful face half-hidden by the blindfold, and how it made her seem so helpless, vulnerable and compliant - qualities I had never seen before in her - and so incredibly sexy. And there was something else that added immeasurably to her stunning charm and grace, and that was the trust that she had placed in me. True, it was just a blindfold, but for that hour she was willing to surrender a small part of herself.

When finally it was time to go, she left it for me to take off her blindfold. She blinked and sighed and looked a little let down at having her sight restored. I had seen that same expression on the faces of my sister and her friends when they were released from their bonds.

On impulse, I said "Next time we'll go for a walk through the gardens."

She just smiled, but she didn't say anything, or frown or shake her head, as I feared she might. In fact, as we walked the last few blocks to the intersection where our paths diverged, she held out her hand and I took it in mine. She pulled her arm down to her side, drawing me closer to her body. With my fingers intertwined with hers, I played with the hem of her skirt, grazed my fingernails lightly across the bare skin of her thigh. Hers playfully scratched and pinched the fabric of my trousers, as if seeking to dig through.

For a brief, blissful moment I fantasized that we might be more than just friends. That never happened, but the fun was only just beginning.



2.
posted Fri Jan 20, 2012 5:47 pm

After that first tentative step, it was more than a week before I had another chance to draw Laura into my world of tie-up games. The next couple of days were rainy, and then other factors intervened, and there were more frustrations before we again took time on our way home from school to sit under our tree in the corner of the park. However, I was determined to move us forward without delay, not just because I was eager to do so - which I was - but because I figured that this was the best way to make Laura's experience not a one-off episode but a part of our routine.

It had been an oppressively hot, overcast day, but as we entered the park the temperature had dropped, the wind had picked up, and ominous dark grey clouds were piling up on the horizon. At first I feared that the impending storm might confound my plans yet again, but funnily enough it ended up working to my advantage.

As we sat on the grass, Laura shivered and made a little "ooh!" sound. To avoid getting her skirt dirty or stained, she had swept it back so she wouldn't sit on it, and the scratchy-tickly sensation of the roughly manicured lawn under her bare thighs must have given her a little thrill. But there was something about the sparkle in her eyes and the subtle curl of her lips that made me think she might have been overdoing her reaction. Like most of the girls I knew, she liked to play the flirt - although she was no tease - and this was her way of drawing my attention to how exquisite she looked in her little red tartan skirt, her neat cream blouse and white ankle socks. As if she needed to!

After we'd talked for a few minutes, I reminded her of the other day, and how I'd suggested I take her on a blindfolded walk through the gardens. Before she could reply, I took the black satin sash out of my bag once again.

She looked at it with the hint of a frown. "Why don't we each wear one?"

I had two answers ready: "I only have the one blindfold" or "It might be too dangerous on the path if neither of us can see." I decided on the latter course, and hoped she didn't counter with "Then it's your turn." Instead, she responded exactly the way I'd hoped. She accepted my logic, and she seemed genuinely curious to try another dimension of the blindfold experience.

She took the cloth from my hand and wrapped it around her head, carefully tying the knot to avoid getting her hair caught in it, and adjusting the material over her eyes to make sure no light penetrated. Maybe she thought she was taking control by doing it herself, but from my perspective watching her, it was a different story. It's one thing to have a girl submit passively to her bonds, but when she puts them on herself, that for me is an important breakthrough. She has moved herself from consenting recipient to willing participant, that is into a deeper level of commitment. So what was to Laura a small gesture of independence was to me a sign that I had captured her spirit.

Of course, these thoughts flashed though my mind for just a few seconds. I waited while Laura attuned herself to her blindfold once more. Then I reached out with my hands to touch hers, which she had folded in her lap. She flinched but then held them out and we clasped, and I steadied her as she got to her feet. She was a little wobbly, not realizing just how much we rely on our sight for our sense of balance. She pulled her hands away, but only to smooth out the wrinkles in her skirt. She moved her head about, not trying to catch a glimpse past the edges of the blindfold, but to sniff the air and listen for the sounds that could give her some points of reference. Then I grasped her right hand in my left and took a couple of steps. She followed, and I guided her slowly from our tree towards the path which meandered through the gardens in the middle of the park.

We took small, tentative steps at first, but as Laura became more comfortable and familiar with her sightless condition, and her other senses became more acute, we could pick up the pace. A couple of times she stumbled over a clump of grass or a protruding tree root that I hadn't steered her around, and I said "Sorry" but she just laughed and said "It's all part of the ride." She was in no danger of falling because I kept my other hand ready to grab her should she trip.

When we reached the path, the going became easier and Laura more confident. We also began to encounter other pedestrians. The first was an elderly couple who nodded a greeting as we passed, then a very pretty jogger who smiled when she saw the blindfold, and then a group of boys and girls from the local primary school. Laura cringed when she heard the kids. I think she was feeling a little self-conscious, but she never faltered. As we entered the gardens, she became more animated. The floral perfumes, amplified by her sensitized state, must have been intoxicating, because she was panting and licking her lips, and her hands were twitching. I don't think she was even aware of her reaction, because when I said "Are you okay" she answered in a quizzical tone "Yes, of course."

We'd been walking for fifteen or twenty minutes when we turned back. That's when I decided to take my chance and advance to the next stage. This was the moment of truth, and it could have ended in debacle, but I had to try. I said "Hold out your hands," and she did so without asking why. She had put her trust in me so I had to be careful.

I gently took hold of her wrists and brought them together in front of her, at waist height. Though her eyes were veiled, I saw in her face a flicker of curiosity. I let go of her hands and reached up to the collar of her blouse. She did not flinch this time, and held her arms in the same place as I unknotted her school tie and drew it from around her neck. The girls' ties were shorter than the boys' but there was more than enough length to wind it twice around her wrists and cinch it once. To my surprise, my delight and my admiration, Laura remained still. She could have pulled away or said something, but she didn't. She gave herself a few seconds to get used to being bound, and then offered me her hands so I could guide her back to our tree.

I was pretty sure no one had tied Laura before, at least not like this, and I was wondering if she felt at all nervous or discomfited or perhaps even aroused. When we heard voices in the distance, she wavered for an instant, and tried to lift her hands, maybe to pull off her blindfold; but I resisted and she relaxed, knowing I wouldn't cause her any embarrassment.

Before we sat down, I untied her wrists but did not touch her blindfold, to see what she would do. She left it on, and just as we took our seats on the grass there was a distant rumble of thunder. She spun her head in that direction and smiled, then listened in silence for the next one. She was fascinated by the way the blindfold both cut her off from and yet, in a whole new way, connected her so intimately to her surroundings. I think she also enjoyed the sense of vulnerability that it imposed, being able to hear but not see the looming menace of the storm. In the same way, as strong and independent and self-reliant as she was, I suspect that she had loved the feeling of being dependent on me to guide her and keep her safe as we crossed the park. She didn't want to lose that feeling, because she kept asking me about the progress of the storm rather than see for herself.

Perhaps I am overanalyzing, but that's how I read the situation. It gave me hope that next time we could go even further. In the meantime, however, the sky overhead was starting to darken.

I said "You can remove your blindfold now," and she didn't seem to comprehend that I had, in effect, given her permission to do so. Or she did not care.

I don't know if it was significant that we didn't talk about her experience as we packed up our things and left the park. We had to hurry because the storm was moving in faster than expected, and I worried that she would blame me if we got caught in it. We didn't, and that was a relief, because I had more plans for Laura.


3.
posted Sat Jan 21, 2012 4:34 pm


Yet I was now faced with a dilemma. As much as I wanted to move forward, I knew that each step would become more complex and require more elaborate preparation. It was one thing to get her to wear a blindfold, and another to allow me to tie her hands, but I had hopes of going a lot further. And it was particularly frustrating because I was no novice at tying up girls. The problem was that I didn't want to jeopardize our relationship by pushing Laura to do something she didn't want to, or even worse end up having her think I was a creep. (Maybe I was, but she didn't need to know it.)

I might have been satisfied with those two excellent afternoons in the park, but she was such a tantalizing prize that I could not hold back. Nevertheless, I had no illusion that we would ever be anything more than friends. In fact, I discovered that she had a boyfriend, a university student. That put her flirty behaviour in a whole new context; but it actually worked in my favour. Although there was, inevitably, some sexual tension between us, her inaccessibility relieved a good deal of the pressure, reminding me that I could only go so far. In other words, I could make it a game, not a seduction. For me the result was essentially the same anyway, but it should make Laura more amenable.

I thought of enlisting my sister as an accomplice, but that was impracticable since she only came home from uni on alternate weekends, and in any case, she was unlikely to be a willing collaborator in my nefarious schemes. Instead, I devised various scenarios, and rejected them each in turn, as too ambitious or too convoluted or simply too weird. Finally I settled on the straightforward approach, and it made perfect sense that the ideal time and place was the park. Our spot under the tree was secluded enough that Laura would not feel too exposed while she was being tied, but sufficiently public to allay any fears she might have.

So over the next couple of weeks I primed her by making the occasional reference to those two previous occasions, inquiring how she had felt at the time, getting her to talk and more importantly to think about her experience. I then told her about some of the tie-up games I had played, making it all sound like innocent, childish fun (which it mostly was). I didn't feel bad that I was manipulating her, because I was also letting her know just what to expect if she agreed to let me tie her. I didn't try to hurry the process. Patience is one of my (few) virtues.

And as it turned out, the old adage was spot on. Good things come to those who wait. It was a Friday, when normally we didn't walk home together because Laura had basketball practice. However, this time the session had been cancelled for some reason, and so I suggested that we go to the park. She agreed, and from her enigmatic smile I suspected that she had caught on to what I was planning. It probably helped my cause that she was wearing her sports uniform rather than her skirt and blouse - no worries about dirt marks and grass stains.

As soon as we sat down, I took off my tie and placed in on the ground between us. She stared at it for maybe thirty seconds, in silence. Then, with an "Oh, why not?" expression she held out her hands, wrists together; but I grinned, shook my head and made a twirling gesture with my index finger. She shrugged, raised herself up onto her knees and turned to face away from me. She remained in a kneeling position as she put her arms behind her back. I took her wrists, crossed them and applied the tie, making it loose enough that she was sure she could wriggle out of it if she tried hard, but secure enough that she really couldn't. She gave her bonds a few token twists and bends to get used to the feeling, and then swivelled back to face me again. She looked incredibly sexy, bound and helpless, and she knew it. But her expression was mainly one of pride and self-satisfaction, that she'd overcome her apprehension and allowed herself to be vulnerable.

I wasn't finished, but the next bit would be tricky. I began to taunt her, saying stuff like girls should be tied up all the time, and when she retorted I added that they should be gagged as well. She slumped back onto her pinioned arms and lashed out at me with her legs. Fortunately we had taken off our shoes, because one heel caught me square on the jaw. I reeled backwards but immediately recovered, grabbed both her ankles and brought them together. Apologetic about the kick, she stopped struggling long enough for me to use one hand to unbuckle and take off my belt while holding her feet with the other. By the time she started resisting again, I had looped the belt around her ankles, and when I pulled it tight she just groaned and gave in. She rolled onto her left side and then onto her stomach.

I wanted desperately to hog-tie her, and also contemplated some tickle torture, but decided that it was too soon. Instead, I sat and watched her wriggle and squirm. She was fully aware now that she was at my mercy. She begged for release, but because she was laughing I said no. After a while, she sat up, drew her legs up to her bottom and tried to undo the belt. However, I was no neophyte. I had placed the buckle at a place that her bound hands could not reach.

"You bastard!" she growled as she realized her predicament and saw me reaching into my bag. When I took out her blindfold, she relaxed for a moment; but then she glared as I folded the sash into a narrow strip and began tying a large knot in the middle. She shook her head vigorously.

I didn't persist. Although she hadn't actually said so, my impression was that she was not so much opposed to being gagged as reluctant to have her mouth stuffed with a piece of cloth that could have been anywhere and collected all sorts of noxious matter. I must confess that I hadn't thought that through. Next time - and I was now sure that there would indeed be a next time - I would be better prepared.

So this was as far as we went that Friday afternoon. We were definitely making progress, and I was already fantasizing about how our next session would be. It turned out to be nothing like what I expected.

I untied Laura after about half an hour. She massaged her wrists and rubbed her ankles, but there weren't any marks - I had been very careful. She had been bound for less time than she'd been blindfolded, but that was okay. And to let her know that I was not preoccupied with bondage, I made sure that the topic did not come up again as we lingered in the park for another thirty minutes or so. After that, I walked with her all the way to her house, hoping that she would invite me inside. I was disappointed but not devastated when she didn't. But she did not exactly boost my morale when she told me excitedly that she'd be seeing her boyfriend that evening.



4.
posted Tue Jan 24, 2012 4:10 pm


This is the last part of my story of Laura. I may write about my girlfriend Michelle, if she gives me permission.

Laura and I were spending so much time together that many of our schoolmates assumed that we were formal boy- and girlfriend. And a lesser man than I might have played along with or even promoted that misconception, because she was one of the prettiest and most popular girls in the school. I have already described her physical appearance, but she was also intelligent and sensitive. She was a year older than most of us, which at that age made her a lot more mature and sophisticated.

Laura was athletic, and she practised one of the martial arts (karate, or maybe taekwondo). She was also a bit taller than me; and sometimes I speculated what would happen if we got into a wrestling match (all in fun, of course) when I tried to tie her. I had no doubt I could win, but I thought about the collateral damage and decided that mental manipulation was more prudent than the physical kind. In other words, my best course of action to charm her into submission. So far the strategy had worked well.

During the year and a half that we were friends, we'd had many happy and interesting times. My fondest memory, before I got to tie her up, was of an event the previous year. Laura and I shared a couple of classes, and one of them was history. On the school's annual open day, each department put on some sort of display to advertise their subject offerings, and the historians organized a Roman banquet. The proceedings included a sale of the slaves who had served the meal. My sister claims that it was she who instituted this tradition a few years before, and I have no reason to doubt her. The reason for my confidence in this is that all of the slaves were female. It was not as sexist as it appears since the class was composed mainly of girls, and there were barely enough males to fill the other roles. Nevertheless, it has my kinky sister's fingerprints all over it.

Because the slavegirls did most of the work and didn't get to enjoy the fruits of their labours, it was not the most choice of assignments, so the class held a secret ballot to select them; which made some sense because in the real world people didn't volunteer to be slaves. The best-looking girls were generally chosen, and at the end of the banquet the reward for their hard work was to be paraded before the crowd in tiny white tunics and chains to be sold to the highest bidder (in a mock auction, not for real, obviously). Naturally I had voted for Laura to be enslaved, and I even managed to manoeuvre myself into being the auctioneer. My regret was that the only chains the girls wore were ones that hung loosely round their necks and flimsy ankle fetters, but that was good enough for me. Afterwards I confessed that I had voted for her, but she sounded more flattered than betrayed. And that was when I first decided that I had a realistic chance of tying up my sweet Laura.

Yet it was only after six months had passed that I got the chance. On the Monday after that third time in the park, when I met her in class she didn't act any differently, and when she said "See you after school," I cheered inside. But nothing happened. We went to the park twice that week, and although we talked about the previous Friday, she showed no indication that she wanted to continue the game, and I didn't persist.

Although it was not the reaction I'd been hoping for, it was what I expected. Some people who don't play TUGs think it's a big deal. Laura, on the other hand, was one of those for whom being tied up was just a bit of fun and frolic. Granted, what I had put her through was mild, especially in comparison with what I aspired to; but I was rather disconcerted that she appeared so casual about it. On the other hand, when I'd asked that Monday if she'd ever been tied up before, she looked about to see if anyone had overheard, and almost spat out "Of course not!" The tone was a little too emphatic. That, of course, made me all the more determined.

It thus came to pass a couple of weeks later. It was another Friday, shortly after midday. Laura and I were members of the school's student council, and we had been attending a local government conference that ended at noon. We'd been given the rest of the day off. We took the bus home, and it stopped near her house, so she invited me in. We had a snack, and while Laura went upstairs to change out of her uniform, I began formulating my plans. And when she came back downstairs, the vision splendid in a denim miniskirt and halter-neck top, I figured my fondest fantasies had finally come to fruition. But not for long. With a beaming smile, completely oblivious to my own darkening visage, she announced that her boyfriend Paul had just phoned and would be arriving within half an hour.

As much as I wanted to hate his guts, Paul turned out to be a nice guy - maybe not smarter or better looking than me, but in other respects the near perfect match for her. We sat in the living room (it was raining outside) and talked about all sorts of things, and I ended up liking him.

Nevertheless, I hadn't given up my ambition vis-a-vis the lovely Laura, and this is why I mentioned the Roman banquet earlier. The focus of our conversation had settled on her, and after a while she began to blush as Paul and I discussed her various qualities. That's when I remarked what a sexy slavegirl she had made. She glared at me, and became even more inflamed when I brought up the subject of our tie-up session in the park. Paul looked at us in turn, with a curious expression; and as if to alleviate his suspicions, Laura laughed it off as nothing more than a silly game.

Now, I would like to think of myself as a Machiavellian genius who had stage-managed what came next, but in fact it just happened. Paul made a joke at Laura's expense and she attacked him, jumping onto his lap and pummelling his chest with her fists. He yelled "Help me out here!" and I leapt to his aid. I grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms behind her back. Paul pushed her away and she slid off the sofa and onto the floor. We rolled her onto her stomach; he pinned her shoulders onto the carpet while I bound her wrists using my tie. She moaned and squirmed. I admit that I was rough with her, but so was Paul, and she was after all struggling and cursing. She tried to insult us by sneering that it took two men to subdue one girl. Then she started to kick, so I seized her ankles and bound them with my belt, just like before.

After a few minutes, she began to relax. She wasn't angry, just a little shocked. But I provoked her by telling Paul "Look, she's calmed down. You should tie her up more often."

She spat out some obscenities that would make a sailor blush, so I pressed my hand over her lips and ordered Paul find something to shut her up. While he was off looking, Laura began thrashing about, and despite her hands and feet being securely bound she was hard to control. She twisted around onto her back, and I was barely able to keep my hand clamped on her mouth. Her eyes were wide, brow sweaty, cheeks flushed, nostrils flaring.

Paul returned with a couple of large handkerchiefs, or scarves, the right sort of material, but he began bunching one of them into a large ball. I said "No, like this," took it and folded it down into a rectangular wad that would fill Laura's mouth without the risk of any getting into the back of her throat and choking her. In the meantime, of course, I had taken my hand away from her face, but she didn't react at all, just lay there panting and (it was reassuring to see) grinning.

Paul took the initiative and said "Let's turn her back over" and rolled her once more onto her belly. She started to say something, but as soon as I held the gag up to her lips she went silent and accepted it without a word or a whimper. I used the second kerchief to tie it in place. Laura moaned, but I'm sure it was a moan of pleasure. No one likes to be gagged, at least not for the first time, so when you hear that you know your victim is already beginning to "zone out."

Nevertheless, they all try to talk, just as they continue to wriggle. Smothered by the gag, the words become muffled into purring sounds, punctuated by soft grunts and drawn-out groans. Yet because it takes effort, Laura quickly exhausted herself, though she continued to writhe about; which could not have turned out better for me. I instructed Paul to take off his belt. He gave me an odd look but did so. Laura bent her body around to stare up at us; and by the time she realized what we were about to do to her it was too late to resist. While Paul pinned her shoulders, I brought her heels up to her butt and used to belt to secure her ankles to her wrists. It was a loose hog-tie, but nonetheless effective.

Now, after waiting and planning so long, I had achieved what I wanted with Laura, albeit with the collaboration of her boyfriend. Still, that was probably a good thing, since I doubt that I could have gone so far with her if we'd been just the two of us.

Paul and I left her hog-tied and gagged on the living room carpet. We didn't blindfold her. Sometimes, instead of making the experience more intense, a blindfold can make your captive zone out even more. I like my damsels to be fully aware and fully sensitized. We sat in our armchairs looking down on her as she lay silent and still, with only the occasional grunt, groan and squirm. She looked beautiful, her lovely bare legs, arms and shoulders glistening with perspiration, her fists clenching and unclenching, her toes curling and uncurling, to some rhythm inside her head. I checked her gag every so often. It was sodden with her saliva but had stayed perfectly in place and was not presenting a breathing problem. In fact, we could hear her heavily breathing, and because the hog-tie was not very strict - just enough to keep her out of her comfort zone - it was plain to see that she was becoming quite aroused. Not all the girls I have tied react this way, but it's gratifying when one does. It's not just her bonds that excite her, but her predicament, trussed and helpless and put on display for the amusement of her captors.

Paul and I had a long conversation about all sorts of things, including Laura, pretending to ignore her, although she knew we never took our eyes off her. I had the very strong feeling that he wanted me to leave, but there was no way I was going anywhere yet; and since he owed me, he was not in a moral position to insist.

Just how long we kept her there tied up became clear when we heard the front door opening. Laura began squirming and making noises through her gag, as her brother Tim came into the room. He's a couple of years younger than her, and in my impression a bit bratty. He did a comical double take when he saw big sis prostrate, hog-tied and wriggling about on the floor. She was making threatening, snorting sounds, and we just laughed; but when Tim suggested a bout of tickle torture I decided that we had gone far enough.

"It's been at least a couple of hours," I said, and Paul took the hint. Tim immediately lost interest and wandered off. We untied Laura. She sat on Paul's lap for a few minutes, recovering her equilibrium. I could see in her face that she was somewhat embarrassed by her ordeal, annoyed at us for putting her through it and yet baffled by how much fun she'd had.


I never tied her up again. I don't know if Paul did. Laura and I went to the park on many more afternoons, but we rarely mentioned it, let alone talked much about her experience. At the end of school we went our separate ways and since then I haven't seen her except on a couple of brief occasions. Though I have tied up a few girls in my time, Laura was probably my biggest challenge and thus my greatest triumph.