Tied
- 4 years ago
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This story revolves around the first time I have ever been tied up, and to do that I must turn back to what exactly got me into bondage. At first when I was young -about 7 years old- I always fantasized of being under someone else's control, to obey their orders and please them and in return they would protect and love me. The very thought of bondage registered in my brain when I played with my friends and they hold me and tickle my body(I was very ticklish), this created some sort of familiarization with the thought of being tied up. When I got older, my friends and I would do some dares and bet on who will win; these dares included surviving in mild bondage without crying or asking for help. Children as we were the ropes would be tied very loosely and I would get sad almost every time because I escaped their bondage.
Bondage at the time was merely a game to me, a game that I wished to become stronger and more frequent in my life; I continued to wish till I grew up into an adolescent (at time very early from my peers) and my thoughts changed. I was no longer satisfied with the stunts I did with my friends or the fantasy world I lived in inside my mind, I needed the real thing. I came into contact with the fact that there are lifestyles for people like me who loved to be tied but from where I come from and my parents this was totally out of question. I couldn't ask them or search for information. They were really honest with me regarding sex and the whole where children come from thing and how to keep myself safe but with anything out of their "ordinary" sex life was a major taboo.
My real breakthrough was through a break alright, in some summer-perhaps I was 14- I caused my self a disaster of breaking both of my legs and possible hernia in my vertebral column (it wasn't really bad) through jumping into a rock at the sea. At first, I was devastated my life was over and the doctors weren't sure if I would be able to walk and regain my health again. Of course I had to stay in a hospital for surgeries and stuff, but I wasn't so happy about it. I was very cranky and gave the people there real hard time when I was going in and out of surgeries. But when things cooled down a bit, and I was placed in my own room; I adapted to the situation.
The reason behind that change is primarily because I was kept in bondage at all times. Both of my legs were held inside some contraptions in the bed and I couldn't move them around (to speed up healing) and my hands were clasped around a handle that came from the ceiling to get me to sit up straight and prevent damage to my spinal cord. I knew this bondage was purely therapeutic but it was the tightest bondage I experienced at the time so I got calmer than I have ever been and got excited by any movement or touch near me. All the people noticed the change but I guess no one thought of this reason.
I changed from hating any person's touch, into craving it on my bound body. When a doctor or a nurse touches me even to check my progress or to bathe me I would get horny and excited.
I am tied, naked, blindfolded, and spreadeagled on your bed, my pale skin contrasting with the dark denim comforter as I listen to the soft slide of fabric against skin as you undress. The soft thud heralds the loss of your jeans and I lick my lips, wishing I hadn’t thought of the blindfold, I want to see you. From your vantage point you can see the dampness clinging to the bush partially concealing my pussy, my clit pouts out at you. You kick your pants to one side a pick up the long feather...
I am tied, naked, blindfolded, and spreadeagled on your bed, my pale skin contrasting with the dark denim comforter as I listen to the soft slide of fabric against skin as you undress. The soft thud heralds the loss of your jeans and I lick my lips, wishing I hadn't thought of the blindfold, I want to see you. From your vantage point you can see the dampness clinging to the bush partially concealing my pussy, my clit pouts out at you. You kick your pants to one side a pick up the long feather...
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EroticThe rest of that day and the succeeding weeks have remained with me as fragments, forming no recognisable sequence, islands of recollection like fleeting memories of early childhood. Some were dreams, some happened in waking life, but it was hard to distinguish which was which. Someone gave me the clothes I’d left in the Recovery Compound and I changed into them, kicking my brothel lingerie into a corner. I tried to make Katrina change as well but she’d fallen asleep and couldn’t be roused....
Be forewarned, these writings, including this warning, may trigger some issue or issues that you have. Either by the language used or it’s content in general. If you are one to get bothered by every little thing, you have to make a decision now. You have two choices. One, you can decide, you can be a mature adult about things and continue. Or Two, you can't, in which case just close it now and step away from wherever the hell it is that you are reading this. ------------- Serendipity...
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