01 - Same in Green
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By Gatekryss
Saturday, October 9th 2004 - 09:05:14 PM
Same in Green
It was back in the late nineties when I lived in the student dorm, one of those concrete bricks full of single rooms with one shared kitchen-livingroom per floor, where some of the inhabitants would stop by for seconds only and some would actually *live* there. Ines, who had moved in there one semester after me, was clearly of the latter kind, and so was I. She was about 1.70m tall (67 inches) and thin, dark blonde, rather on the pale side, always looking awake and in possession of a wonderful dry humor. (Remember that cute girl in the library who came there before you and left after you and was so interested in her books that you never managed to make contact by asking her for a pencil sharpener because you just weren't bold enough to shove a written question right under her nose? I was her dorm neighbour.)
One evening when a majority in front of the living-room TV demanded that a Champions League game (European soccer thing) was to be watched, she invited me to her room where we could watch the quality film (which had lost the vote) on her tiny TV set, assisted by a nice cup of tea. She sat down on the desk chair and offered me a seat on her bed. Seeing the day blanket (or whatever the piece of cloth is called in English which you put over all of your bed during daytime so that nobody notices you're using Mickey Mouse bedsheets) from IKEA, I remarked "Funny, I've got the same day blanket, only in blue," and picked up a corner in order to read the funny IKEA name (remembering the IKEA name of all your furniture is a sure sign of expertship, isn't it?). It turned out to be an INDIRA, but what caught my attention was an end of rope protruding from under her bed. One centimeter in diameter, made of bright red synthetic fibers. (Fifty cents a meter at the hardware store when I bought mine, was it? The salesperson really gave me a Look when I bought several ten-meter pieces and didn't assure him it was for construction purposes.)
"Funny, I've got the same one, too, only in green", I continued after a second of surprise and looked at her with an innocent smile, trying to hide my worries that I had just not only given away a secret but also that she might consider it a completely inappropriate negotiation of nonstandard sexual practices when all she really wanted was watch TV. She managed to say -nothing- in a cold way, paused and offered me some more tea, leaving no doubt at all that this was a Change Of Subject. I concluded that she really only enjoyed a healthy round of rope-skipping before breakfast. She surely did.
A couple of weeks later, on a dark November evening when all I could do was sit at home and play a dull computer game, gloomy background music playing, I got a phone call. Internal ringing sound, meaning it must have come from another room in the same building. It was Ines, asking whether I could just come by for a moment. Sure, I said, wondering whether it was another urgent spider or what, and went to her door.
"Come in" she said with a worried voice, "it's open". I did, and it really was a nice surprise. She was sitting on the carpet, wearing an oversized T-shirt and (properly-sized) white underpants, as if she was ready to go to sleep. If she was, then for maximum comfort, she would have to remove the familiar red rope first, which was tied around her upper legs right above the knee, neatly cinched, with the remainders looping across her shoulders from two sides and back to the knees, folding her together in the middle. On the floor lay her telephone, as if she had pulled it from the desk by the cable, which she probably had.
I quickly closed the door behind me and made myself comfortable on her carpet, keeping a decent distance and my most trustworthy facial expression.
"First thing, relax. There is absolutely no need to be embarrassed just because you've tied yourself up." First goal: conserve the terrific sight of tied-up Ines. "Nice style. And how on earth did you manage to tie your upper arms together so neatly?" I asked after I had seen the rope around her elbows. She had obviously managed to wrap some rope around them, wrapping the rope in the gap between the elbows into a kind of rope sausage so that it would not slip.
Her embarrassment had mostly vanished when she explained to me that she had prepared the upper-arm loop and slided it upwards using the edge of her bed frame after the other ropes were in place. "Only this time the loop is too short so the arms are too close together and I can't get a grip on it to pull it down again." She performed a gratuitous tied-up-girl-can't-reach-her-elbows-routine.
"Good thing you bought the handsfree phone," I answered, "Who knows who would have found you if you had had to shout..."
She closed her eyes in horror for a moment.
"Let's not think about that," she said, "I'm really glad that you're so normal about" (stretching against her ropes) "this. Er, while we're at it, could you just, y'know, untie me?"
I untied the shoulder-knee connection. She straightened her back and legs with relief and turned her back towards me for the elbows. Instead of untying them, I pulled her hands side by side. She didn't resist to that. That may mean she wants to play, I thought, untied her elbows and quickly led her hands in front, where I tied her wrists together with one of the old stockings she had left lying around on the floor. One eyebrow raised, smile intact, carry on.
Visibly careful not to touch her breasts with my hands (which I was sure I wasn't invited to), I wrapped some other rope around her upper body, pinning her arms to her sides. The cinching was a bit difficult because her breasts were really close, but it worked out somehow.
"You're not actually *un*tying me, are you?"
"Oh yes, look, I *am* untying your legs." Which I did. Then I stood up. She leant back against her bed.
"And what now?" she asked, wiped a strand of her chin-long hair out of her face with her tied hands and dropped them back into her lap.
"I'll be back in half an hour," I said when I left and added with a wink, "and I have *no* idea at all what you would want to do in the meantime. Have fun."
Twenty-nine minutes later, I came back. But what happened thereafter is another story and shall be told another time.
Gatekryss
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Thursday, October 14th 2004 - 01:26:37 PM
Same in Green, Part II.
Twenty-nine minutes later, I knocked on Ines' door.
"Room service," I said.
She opened the door and was remarkably little tied up.
"So you're the room service? I have to complain about the quality of the work done in this house," she said grinning, but when I offered that I considered it my most highly valued duty to take all possible measures to restore her confidence in this house's capability of satisfying its most valued customers, she just wished me a good night, thanked for my service, assured me that she would recommend me further, pushed me outside with a quick hug and closed the door.
Still completely confused about the last hour, I went to sleep. The next morning, I woke up from someone knocking on my door. Before ten o'clock on a Saturday morning, it better be important, I thought and opened the door in my sleeping outfit consisting of a T-shirt and boxers, carefully half-opening my eyes to leave no doubt about whose sleep just had been disturbed. Ines stood outside, wearing long jeans and a long-sleeved cardigan with a collar zipped up all the way to her chin, as though she had planned to go outside in the damp and unfriendly November morning.
"I thought we could go outside in the damp and unfriendly November morning," she said, "and get ingredients for a luxury breakfast". (A luxury breakfast, which we had from time to time on a lazy Saturday, was any breakfast which included orange juice and fresh croissants).
"Uhmwhynotbutisntitabitearly," I murmured.
"I think I see your point," she said, "but I also thought I ought to say thank you for your swift and uncomplicated help yesterday. Mind if I come in?"
She sat down on my desk chair.
"I'm really happy I'm not the only one who has these ideas about having fun," she began.
Sitting on my bed, I reached for her hand. Which she pulled away.
"Now don't make me say one of those dreadful statements ending with 'but'. Look, for the first time in twenty years I have both my own room *and* someone to tie me up in it. I simply don't want to go to bed twice and afterwards be ex-bed-friends with you. But," she continued, seeing my disappointed face, " I think I have something to cheer you up." With that, she pulled down her cardigan zipper and lifted her T-shirt a couple of centimetres. "What do you think about some special grocery shopping safety gear?" I saw she had put herself into what is called a "karada" in the do-it-yourself-sections of the websites I of course never had visited. Obviously, never had she, either. Her red rope was not long enough, so she had extended it with a yellow rope before she built the mesh around her body. Apart from the kinky connotations, it would have been quite decorative even in plain peoples' eyes.
I pulled the curtain and handed her the box with my ropes, including the long green one (which she called the 'flagrope' of my collection). After a quick timeout for the bathroom, she had me stand in the middle of the room and take off my T-shirt. She started with the loop around the neck and added a knot every fifteen centimeters. We talked about this and that while she worked, just as if she was measuring me for a new suit. At the bottom end, she fitted the last loop over the tent-like structure in my boxers so that the balls would be outside the net. Then she led the rope up again, pulled it through the neck loop and completed the zig-zag-pattern through the segments between the knots mentioned earlier, and finished with one knot on the belly. It seemed to be routine for her, I noticed. I wondered how often she had been tied up like this before, watching TV in the living-room, cutting onions in the kitchen. What an idea. I asked her, but all she said was "not always, not never..." with a nonchalant smile.
She took care to pull everything tight. It felt neat and tight when I put on jeans, a T-shirt, my pullover with the zip collar and especially when I reached for my shoes. Outside, we chose to take the longer way to the bakery which led through the park. The morning mist was fighting the sunshine above. A few joggers (in that temperature! Lunatics!) were on their way through the park, senior couples in beige coats, a mother with two children in the early walking age. Each time I encountered one of them, I felt a bit embarrassed because they might suspect something. But they didn't. After half an hour or so, I had got used to the rope harness and hardly noticed it any more, except when I retied my shoes.
One and a half hours later, we came back into the kitchen with appetite for anything as long as it was hot and tea. So we set the table for two (the others were still sleeping or already up or, worst of all, having breakfast alone in their rooms) and ate. It was nice and warm inside, and Ines opened her cardigan after a while. When we already were in the no-thanks-i'd-burst-phase, Yi entered the kitchen. She was a student from China but had been here long enough to enjoy continental breakfast.
"Hi Yi, how'ye doing, slept well?" I greeted her.
She looked a little puzzled, then answered, "thanks, good, yes, andyou?". I turned my head towards Ines and thought Yi had been right to look puzzled. Ines' T-shirt looked like she was wearing some sort of grid underneath it, which she of course was. I tried to give the least suspicious sign to her to pull her cardigan zipper up. She, too, looked at me and pointed urgently to her neck. My neck loop could be seen through the T-shirt collar. Had Yi noticed? She didn't seem to, and participated fluently in the important conversation about the weather in general, which Ines brought up.
After the breakfast, we said goodbye to Yi and left. Ines did not surprise me when she gave me a quick hug at my door and told me that she would not follow me inside.
"Maybe next time?" I asked.
"Who knows?", with a wink, she left for her room.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Yi wondered whether she had seen what she had seen.
But that is a different story and shall be told another time.
Gatekryss
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Gatekryss' stories
- 01 - Same in Green (self/F, M/F)
- 02 - We Have a Witness (MF/F)
- 03 - The Straighjacket Gift (MF/F, multiple /M & /F)
- 04 - Handcuffed Together (F/FM)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Adults" section