Elevator Captive F/F
Posted: Tue Aug 09, 2022 4:49 pm
Just a quick little story of something I bumped into one day while I was at college in mid-Michigan
This particular young woman was not what you would call “ beautiful”. I thought she was more “super cute”. She was tiny, with smallish breasts, long somewhat wavy auburn hair, brown eyes, and what seemed like perpetually tanned skin. She’s someone I could fall in love with at first sight.
However, her reputation was as that of a raging bitch. Her roommates were not very fond of her. One day she must have pushed them over the edge.
On that day I was waiting by myself for the elevator. When the doors opened, there she was: my little cutie, but she was not in a good mood. Her roommates had tied her up and put her in the ‘vator.
They had used terry cloth bathrobe belts to tie her wrists very tightly to the outside of her thighs. The belts went around each leg and then they cinched her wrists VERY tightly against her jeans.
And then they tightly tied a belt to the handrail on the elevator wall.
She was so angry! She looked like she was going to cry as she thrashed against her bonds. I ran right in and asked what happened. She said something like , “My f—-ing roommates!”
I went to work on the knots but they were so tight that I couldn’t get them to budge at all. Of course, my excitement wasn’t helping. My hands were shaking and blood was pounding through my whole body. There was nothing I could do with my bare hands to free her.
The elevator stopped on my floor. “I’ll be right back! I can cut you loose!” With that I ran to my room to get my big fixed-blade Boy Scout knife. It was very sharp and the exact right tool for the job
It probably took no more than 3 minutes for me to fetch it and get back to the elevator. It had moved on, of course, so I pushed the Call button.
When the car finally came back she was gone. Gone. I was so disappointed! Why hadn’t I jammed the door? Or push the stop button (which would have rung a loud alarm bell).
But gone she was. Just like my chance to rescue her. Gone.
I was SURE that if I had rescued her she would have been so grateful that she would be my girlfriend. And that she would want me to tie her up again. Fat chance. But that’s how my brain works
That elevator door never once opened again when I didn’t see the image of her standing there helpless. And I would kick myself for blowing that opportunity
This particular young woman was not what you would call “ beautiful”. I thought she was more “super cute”. She was tiny, with smallish breasts, long somewhat wavy auburn hair, brown eyes, and what seemed like perpetually tanned skin. She’s someone I could fall in love with at first sight.
However, her reputation was as that of a raging bitch. Her roommates were not very fond of her. One day she must have pushed them over the edge.
On that day I was waiting by myself for the elevator. When the doors opened, there she was: my little cutie, but she was not in a good mood. Her roommates had tied her up and put her in the ‘vator.
They had used terry cloth bathrobe belts to tie her wrists very tightly to the outside of her thighs. The belts went around each leg and then they cinched her wrists VERY tightly against her jeans.
And then they tightly tied a belt to the handrail on the elevator wall.
She was so angry! She looked like she was going to cry as she thrashed against her bonds. I ran right in and asked what happened. She said something like , “My f—-ing roommates!”
I went to work on the knots but they were so tight that I couldn’t get them to budge at all. Of course, my excitement wasn’t helping. My hands were shaking and blood was pounding through my whole body. There was nothing I could do with my bare hands to free her.
The elevator stopped on my floor. “I’ll be right back! I can cut you loose!” With that I ran to my room to get my big fixed-blade Boy Scout knife. It was very sharp and the exact right tool for the job
It probably took no more than 3 minutes for me to fetch it and get back to the elevator. It had moved on, of course, so I pushed the Call button.
When the car finally came back she was gone. Gone. I was so disappointed! Why hadn’t I jammed the door? Or push the stop button (which would have rung a loud alarm bell).
But gone she was. Just like my chance to rescue her. Gone.
I was SURE that if I had rescued her she would have been so grateful that she would be my girlfriend. And that she would want me to tie her up again. Fat chance. But that’s how my brain works
That elevator door never once opened again when I didn’t see the image of her standing there helpless. And I would kick myself for blowing that opportunity
