Headline
Message text
SIGNALS
Two very good friends don't recognize the signals they give each other, until a self-bondage session goes wrong
© Copyright Dolphin135 - 2025. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1, the failed date
Life sucks, I thought as I trudged home through the rain.
It was Friday night. I had just left a nice restaurant, abandoning a lovely meal mostly uneaten on the table. I couldn't take the company of my date any longer, Robert de-Montis. I mean, what sort of weird name is that? A name belonging to a hubristic and narcissistic creep, I now knew.
It was my own fault. I should have realized as soon as I read about him on the dating app I had used. Anyone who advertises himself as the answer to every girl's frustrations, with a dick that will give you a good time like you've never experienced before, probably has serious issues. Instead, I mistakenly looked at some of the reviews from other girls who claimed to have dated him and had a wonderful time. I now suspected the reviews were largely fiction.
He certainly had issues. Admittedly, he had the resources to pay for a very nice restaurant, and his face looked nice enough, but his ego was the size of Texas. His idea of a nice get-to-know-you dinner was to talk incessantly about himself, his achievements, his political views, and his rich family, whilst his hands crept repeatedly up my legs and underneath the mini-skirt that I had mistakenly worn.
He went too far once too often. When I again stopped him with a hand, he told me that he loved it when girls played hard to get. Then he immediately went back to what he was saying. At that point, I got up and left. I didn't need his sort of 'good time'.
Now I was cold, wet, and still hungry. Home was over two miles away. Mister fucking de-Montis's Lexus would have been my ride home. I had no money because he was paying for dinner. All I had was a tiny clutch bag with my house key and the personal alarm that no sensible girl goes out alone without.
It occurred to me as I walked that I could probably no longer call myself a sensible girl. Mister F-de-M was the culmination of a series of dating disasters. Why hadn't I brought my phone and money for an Uber with me?
When I finally got home, I had a hot shower, put on my warmest, fluffiest gown, had a quick frozen meal, and consoled myself alone as usual.
*****
The following evening, Walter phoned me to ask how my date had gone. Walt was my best friend, and I always loved to hear from him. We told each other about all our dates, so now I told him in forthright terms about Mister Fucking de-Montis and his failings.
I told him about how the stupid prick had talked incessantly and always about himself. I told him about the groping hands advancing frequently up my legs, and about his not taking no for an answer. I even told him about my consolation prize with my hands when I got home.
Walt, of course, laughed. I knew he would.
"That must be a world first, Bean. Did you honestly say nothing at all?" he asked disbelievingly. "I wish I'd been there to hear this miracle." He was teasing me, of course.
Bean was the nickname he mostly used for me. At school, people called Geraldine the Beanpole, probably because I was built a bit like a beanpole: 5 feet 9 inches tall by quite an early age, quite thin - 'slim', Walt chivalrously called it - and a late developer in the breasts department. So Bean it was. If we were being serious, Walt sometimes called me Geri, occasionally Geraldine if it was very serious or he was very embarrassed.
"It's no joke," I retorted. "Literally, all I said all evening was an occasional 'mmm' or 'yes', and I don't think he heard those. It was like one of those live feeds where some influencer can't stop talking about her life, and she can't see you because you're one of a thousand on the other side of the camera. I couldn't get a word in edgeways, or any other way for that matter."
"That must have been a real hardship for you." He was meanly laughing at me again.
"Shut up! It fucking was. I felt like one of those fish you see in aquariums, opening my mouth every so often and shutting it again immediately because he was off on another rant. If I tried to say something, it was like he never noticed. He just kept on with what he was saying before.
"And his views! If I never meet another armchair warrior, it will be too soon. Big supporter of locking up suspected criminals before the trial and ideally throwing away the keys. He called it Darwinism, strengthening the species by stopping the wrong sort of people from reproducing. He was all for nuking Iran too. I think he mentioned China as well, but I'd stopped listening by then."
"It does sound like the date from hell," he said, still laughing at me.
"You have no idea! But I shut him up for a few seconds at the end. I got up and started putting my jacket on. He stopped in mid-sentence and stared at me. I don't think he believed I was leaving. I hadn't said anything because I couldn't get a word in. I just walked out. I think he started up again as I was walking away. No idea what he said. P'rhaps he's still there talking to himself."
Walt laughed again, and even I laughed at that thought.
"How d'you get home, Bean?" he asked.
"Walked. He was supposed to drop me back home, but I wasn't going to let him anywhere near my house. I'm sure he'd have pushed his way in, still talking. Two miles I walked, Walt, two fucking miles, and it rained the whole way. I was soaking wet and frozen. I only had a short dress and a light jacket. My feet were so sore! I was trying out high heels on this stupid fucking date, so I took them off and walked barefoot. I'm never wearing heels again! Ruined my tights."
"You should have taken them off," he replied.
"Needed the warmth," I said. "I've had it with dating apps. I'm gonna go back to Bob. He's just been upgraded to the love of my life."
"You should have phoned me," Walter said. "I'd have picked you up and taken you home. You know that."
He would, too. He always did things like that for me.
"Or Bob," he went on. "You've mentioned him before. He sounds like a good friend."
I wasn't about to talk to him about Bob.
"Didn't have a phone, Walt," I said to him. "You know I don't take it on dates. All I had was this tiny clutch bag with my house key and personal alarm. Perhaps I should have used it to scare the rain off."
I giggled. Talking with Walt always cheered me up.
"Why were you even dating that other guy if you have Bob?" Walt asked me.
"I've told you before. It's a relationship I'm looking for. Don't you remember anything I tell you, Walt? Honestly, men! I think I've had it with men."
There was a moment's silence on the other end of the phone. Then: "Bit of a cold fish is he, your Bob?"
"You could say that," I said, being carefully vague again.
"Are you okay now, Bean?"
"Other than frustrated and cross, yes, I'm fine. Dating sucks. Thanks for phoning, though. It always helps to talk to you. I'm almost happy again."
"Any time, Bean, you know that. How about we meet up for dinner tomorrow? I could pick you up late afternoon and take you to a nice restaurant."
"Are you asking me for a date, Walt?" I knew I'd end up paying. I always did, since Walt was still an impoverished student, but that was okay with me. An evening out with him would be well worth it.
"Er, well, you know, I thought you could do with a bit of cheering up, make up for that asshole you dated yesterday. Anyway, I thought you said dating sucks."
Dammit! A real date with Walt would have been lovely.
"I fucking do need cheering up. Yes, I'd love to meet up for dinner, Walt."
"Okay, see you tomorrow, Bean."
"See you."
We rang off.
Chapter 2, a long-standing friendship
I should explain about Walter Leveridge. Walt is a long-standing friend of mine. Our friendship started at school, continued during college, and kept going. We're very close. We just get on well together. We could talk for hours, joking, teasing, insulting, and sometimes consoling each other, and generally putting the world to rights. At school and college, we usually had lunch together. Stealing each other's lunch was a fun game.
In our school days, we had always played together, usually in each other's backyards. We ran races, wrestled, climbed trees, built dens, played silly games that we made up, and generally caused mayhem.
Walt's parents' huge and deep pool was a favorite place of ours. We had swimming races. We dunked each other. Walt sometimes paraded around the pool with me on his shoulders, practicing, as he put it, for future games of chicken. Then he usually threw me off him into the pool, and the game was for me to try and hold on to him and pull him down as I fell. Sometimes I succeeded. I did the same with him. He was taller and heavier than I was, so it was a bit of a struggle, but I've always been quite strong.
We lay on the couches next to the pool, reading or talking, usually with me in a swimsuit and Walt in short pants and a T-shirt. I teased him endlessly about the T-shirt and shorts, but he maintained that too much sun exposure was bad for you. If my teasing became too much for him, he sometimes threw me into the pool. For some reason, I always squealed as he did and usually lost my sense of direction, tumbling underwater. When I came up, I was often short of air and cussing at Walt. He, of course, was laughing and teasing me at this point, saying I needed to learn to go in without drowning.
Then he usually leaned over the pool and offered me a gentlemanly hand out. I always tried to get my own back by pulling him into the pool instead, still in his normal clothes. He tried to brace himself to stop me. Most of the time he won that struggle, but sometimes I succeeded, and then I quickly got out and lay back on the couch, while Walt came up spluttering and cussing me in his turn. I always told him he shouldn't be so gentlemanly, and he agreed. But it didn't stop him next time.
It was a lovely, teasing, fun relationship that we had. Everything we did was accompanied by the funniest, most evil banter that often had us both in stitches.
In our last couple of years at high school, I had a massive crush on Walt. If he had asked me for a date, I would have agreed like a shot, but he never did. Gradually, I got used to the fact that he didn't see me in that way, probably didn't find me attractive.
But we continued to enjoy each other's company. Everyone naturally assumed that we were romantically linked, so very few people asked me for a date, and Walt never asked anyone else in school, to my knowledge. It didn't bother me because I very much enjoyed Walt's company, and seemingly he enjoyed mine. We did everything together. I was just sad he never asked me out.
It was while we were in our last two years at high school that we developed the habit of going for walks together. Our families had twice been on walking holidays together. As a result, Walt and I developed a shared love of hills and walking. We used to cycle out to the local hills and walk together, sometimes for a full day with food in our packs.
Walt asked me to be his partner for the end-of-school prom. That was a problem for both of us. I didn't own a dress. I always wore T-shirts and either pants or shorts, depending on the weather. I guess I was a bit of a tomboy because I liked doing all the outdoor stuff that Walt liked. I had to buy a prom dress, and Walt had to hire a tux. I hoped he might kiss me at the prom, but he didn't.
Both sets of parents thought we were developing into a traditional boy-girl couple, but we weren't. Walt showed no sign of being attracted to my beanpole body.
Chapter 3, a platonic relationship
When we left school, we went to the same college. It wasn't just that we wanted to continue our friendship. It was also that we had very similar opinions about which college looked best. It wasn't as if we were going to have classes together. I was going to study business; Walt was headed for the sciences.
In our first year at college, we were in separate dorms, both sharing. My roommate was friendly enough, though we didn't share many interests. The main problem was that she seemed to have a lot of sexual partners of both sexes, and I was frequently embarrassed when I went into the room. If the sounds were too obvious, I normally didn't even go in. Instead, I exiled myself to the library or café. 'Sexiled', I believe they call it in room-sharing circles.
Walt had a similar problem. His roommate was a sporty type with strange hours and a habit of coming back half drunk aftet matches with the latest, very cheerful cheerleader. Sometimes Walt and I were sexiled together and commiserated over a drink.
Walt and I continued to spend our free time together. If we socialized, we went together and frequently left early together. We continued to go out walking in our free time, sometimes with other friends, sometimes just the two of us.
I was hoping that Walt might develop a romantic interest in me. I tried hard. When we went swimming in the college pool, I wore the most revealing tie-on bikini that I thought I could get away with. I attracted stares from a lot of other male students and unfortunately some adverse comments from a group of more conservatively dressed girls in modest one-piece suits. Sadly it didn't seem to generate any interest in Walt, though he enjoyed throwing me in the pool.
One sunny day in the early fall, we had lunch by a lake that was ideal for swimming. We were both hot, and neither had a swimsuit. Nobody else was around. I suggested skinny-dipping and was surprised but delighted when he agreed.
I stripped in zero time. Walt was slow in taking his clothes off, and I teased him about it. He was even slower getting into the water, which admittedly was pretty cold, so I teased him about that too. When he didn't react, I started splashing him. He swore at me and splashed me back, but I laughed and told him I was already wet. It did speed up his immersion.
To get his own back, he lifted me and threw me into the water a little further out. He had a prodigious throw. I screamed and went head-first into some very deep and cold water with practically no air in my lungs. As always, I became very disorientated, the more so because it was quite dark below the surface. When I eventually fought my way back to the surface and back to shallower water where I could stand, I was gasping for air and cussing him furiously.
Walt grabbed me and compounded my problem by tickling me mercilessly. I was struggling to breathe, trying to yell at him, and trying unsuccessfully to fight him off. He reduced me to a giggling jelly in no time.
I wondered if this might be the time when he would make a move on me. I could see that he was aroused. If he had thrown me down on the grass and made love to me, I would have been delighted.
But he didn't. Instead, he apologized for going too far and helped me out.
We went for many more walks in our spare time, finding more places to swim when it was warm. I skinny-dipped. Walt was a bit more reticent and packed a swimsuit, but I teased him about being shy and afraid of his own body, so eventually we both skinny-dipped when we were alone.
After our first skinny dip, I had this fantasy fixed in my head that Walt would throw me into the water, tickle me into submission, and then throw me on the grass and fuck me passionately. It didn't happen, but it was a lovely fantasy.
During the spring break, we bought a lightweight, two-person tent and went on a lengthy walking trip. We both slept nude, in or out of our sleeping bags, depending on the weather. I had warned him that Walt was going to, and I think he was too embarrassed to bring pajamas. We developed the habit of giving each other a chaste kiss on the cheek as we settled down, and often held hands while going to sleep. But to my regret, it remained a platonic relationship, if a frequently nude one.
By the end of our first year, I had decided that Walt was not going to develop any interest in me of a romantic or sexual nature. I resolved to move on.
For our second year, Walt and I decided that the two of us would share a flat. It might have been because neither of us was happy with the other students seeking flat shares, but who am I kidding? We never thought seriously about other options because we both really liked each other's company.
I was slightly nervous because I was trying to get over my crush on Walt. I feared this might open that particular Pandora's box again. But I went with it. It was lovely living with him.
Sharing a flat had its benefits when we both had accidents.
Mine was the lesser accident. Early in the fall term, we were out walking and skinny-dipped in a secluded lake. I slipped on a rock in the water and twisted my ankle.
Walt carried me back to our packs and clothes. He strapped my ankle with the bandages he always packed and helped me dress again. Then he carried both our packs and acted as my third leg as I limped painfully back to a road where we could get an Uber back to our flat. There, he put some ice on my ankle, borrowed a friend's car to take me to the local clinic, and sat with me as I was checked over, re-bandaged, and issued with crutches.
While my ankle healed, he helped me dress, did all the cooking and cleaning, and helped me struggle to and from classes whenever he could. If I'm honest, he didn't need to help me dress. I could have managed. But it was a lovely gesture, and I wasn't going to refuse it. The same was true about helping me get to classes, but I hated being a cripple and I hated crutches. Leaning on Walt was much nicer and led to some lovely banter between us, even if some of it was embarrassing for me.
Most importantly, he was with me a lot of the time, comforting and encouraging me when frustration over my lack of mobility threatened to overwhelm me.
He teased me incessantly of course: about my clumsiness on rocks; about how I complained all the time instead of enjoying the luxury of being looked after; about how if I would only get used to my crutches I could help cook instead of having to suffer his cooking, which never impressed me; and much more. I was very grateful for his help, and tried to stay civil, although I couldn't help swearing and cussing at him when the frustration became too great or his teasing hit a sensitive neuron.
I got my own back later on. In the winter term, Walt decided that he needed better transport and also that his image needed development. Ignoring my frequently and forcefully expressed fears, he bought an ancient but unfortunately rather powerful motorbike. He already had a driving license, so getting a motorcycle license was easy.
A few weeks later, my worst fears came true. I received a message that Walter was in the operating theatre of the local hospital after a bad motorcycle accident. I left my class and hurried over to the hospital in dread. When I saw him, I was horrified. He was unconscious, anesthetized, and seemed to be a mass of bandages and quite a few tubes.
The surgeon told me Walt had been lucky. It didn't seem that way to me. Both his arms had multiple fractures and had been pinned and set in plaster. A broken leg had been set and was also in plaster. His head and vital organs were undamaged, but he probably had concussion. I saw the remnants of his helmet later. It had undoubtedly saved his life. His many surface wounds were nothing to worry about.
His motorbike was a write-off. At least I could be glad about that.
In the end, Walt spent seven weeks with three limbs immobilized. He needed a lot of help. That was me. I did all the cooking. I also fed him since both his arms were out of action. I bought waterproof protectors for his plaster casts and showered him. I helped him move about in the wheelchair the hospital provided.
Most embarrassingly for him, I had to help him go to the bathroom, aiming his dick for him and even wiping his butt. His arms were immobilised right down to the fingers.
Fortunately, our shared love of walking and a swimming club I had joined meant I was quite fit. Maneuvering his mostly inert body needed a lot of strength and great care not to let him fall.
We slept with our doors open so that he could call me in the night if he needed the bathroom.
I chastised him incessantly and only half-jokingly for stupidly riding that death machine. He would groan and inform me that I'd already told him that a thousand times, whereupon I would smile sweetly and tell him that repetition would help him learn.
I was desperately afraid that he might be permanently disabled in some way, but the hospital said that he was heading for a full recovery.
I was so pleased when he decided not to replace his wrecked motorbike that I completely stopped teasing him about it. I found other things to tease him about, though. I wasn't going to let the opportunity pass.
I had to get into the shower to shower him, so naturally, I also undressed. It was no big thing between us now. Unsurprisingly, his dick became erect, particularly when I washed it. He was always very embarrassed and apologized for its misbehavior. It gave me a bit of a thrill to think that I caused that, even though I knew by now it was just a biological reaction and didn't mean anything.
I meanly teased him about his lack of control. I told him that he was going to make some girl very happy, once he eventually got around to girls. I got out a tape measure on one occasion and measured the dimensions of his erect dick to prove this to him. I even asked him a couple of times whether he wanted help relieving his sexual frustration. He went very red and declined, though I wondered if his dick had twitched a bit when I said that. Pity.
He thanked me frequently and fully for my help. I smiled at him and told him I wasn't going to let my best friend be looked after by any old moron. The first time I said that, he retorted with an evil grin that obviously only one very special moron was going to be allowed to look after him. I looked at him open-mouthed for a second, then got my revenge by turning the shower to cold and splashing a lot of cold water on him - and me.
"Fucking hell, Bean, that's icy," Walt yelled. "For Chrissake! Okay, I'm sorry. I apologize. I'd get down on my knees if I could. Fucking hell, put the warm back on, please Geri!"
I relented, and he never said that again.
When the plaster casts came off, I helped with the physiotherapy he needed to recover his strength. I was a hard taskmistress. I made sure he followed the exercise routine to the letter and worked hard enough. When he complained that I was driving him too hard, I told him to be a man and suck it up. His physio backed me up.
Despite his complaints, I think he appreciated my pushing him. On the two occasions when I forgot, he reminded me that it was time for his daily torture routine.
Walt took his immobility and my teasing in good part. He didn't have much choice. Eventually, and to my great relief, he was back in full working order. Our banter resumed its normal two-way pattern, with him making up for lost time by teasing me all the more. To both of our great pleasure, we were able to go for walks again.
*****
For our third year, we agreed not to share. This was mainly my doing. I hadn't gotten over my crush at all. On the contrary, I was increasingly frustrated that the only guy I wanted, and the guy I was living with, wasn't interested in me. I was determined to try dating, but this felt awkward when we were flat-sharing.
My parents funded half the cost of a small house fairly close to the college for me, and I took out a loan with deferred repayments. Walt found a unit in college.
We both started dating other people during our third year at college. We naturally shared our experiences with each other. When a relationship broke up, we turned to each other for comfort, though not in a sexual way, of course.
Walt had several girlfriends, typically only lasting a couple of days each. He dated one girl for several weeks, and I was beginning to think they were serious. When they split up, he told me it just wasn't working. Anyway, he had found out she had another boyfriend in her hometown and was thinking of moving back there. I was disgusted with her, but kind of relieved. I didn't think she was the type of girl who would make him happy.
I lost my virginity a few weeks after moving into my house. The deed was done by a drunken engineer at the first party I went to without Walt. I was also pretty drunk at the time, so I don't remember too much about it. Fortunately, I had been on the pill since we started college.
Walt, of course, teased me endlessly about getting so drunk that I lost control of myself, and then about being so drunk that I couldn't remember what should have been a defining experience in my life. At least he knew I was on the pill and couldn't tease me about the risk of babies.
I had a couple of other liaisons that made it to the bedroom, but neither lasted more than a day or so, and neither was very satisfying from my point of view. When I told Walt about my break-ups, he commiserated, but I felt his sympathy was only half-hearted. He spent more time teasing me about their failings and about how I wasn't careful enough in my choice of dates.
Then things seemed to dry up completely as far as dates went. I think the young men on my course were mostly put off by my reputation as a hard worker and by the fact that I still met up with Walt at intervals. When I plucked up the courage and asked a couple, they had full diaries. The two that did ask me for a date towards the end of college were nervous and tongue-tied. I tried to let them down gently.
I occasionally frequented bars looking for eligible young men. The bars, at least the ones I tried, seemed to be full of heavy drinkers, gropers, and lechers. Not my scene.
Walt and I had done so much together that we hadn't developed many other friends, so I wasn't invited to many social functions. The few exceptions were full of happily paired couples and the occasional sad, solitary guy drowning his or her sorrows in alcohol. I guess by year three, most people already had relationships going.
After our third year, Walt decided to stay on in college to do a postgraduate degree. I found a job near the college that made use of my degree. The salary easily covered the repayments on my house loan and left me, if not rich, at least not on the poverty line.
Unfortunately, there weren't many single young men in the company I worked for, so I decided to try the dating apps.
I tried three times. My first date was nice enough, but a bit too bland and inoffensive for my taste. We went back to his house. He and I both seemed to want our evening to end in bed. Our physical liaison was pretty much a non-event as far as I was concerned. Even to my lack of experience, his efforts seemed fumbling. I left afterward feeling physically unsatisfied.
My second date was very courteous, but we both knew we were not hitting it off. We enjoyed the food, and he enjoyed the live jazz. Then we mutually agreed it wasn't working. He took me home, thanked me for the evening, and we wished each other luck in our future dating.
The third was Roger Fucking de-Montis. Never again, I had vowed, as I trudged forlornly home through the rain.
Walt consoled me about all three. He was a wonderful friend, and I would have loved to claim him as a boyfriend and lover if only he were so inclined.
Walt and I still met regularly for drinks or meals. We still went out hill walking together, though I was now limited to weekends by my job. Every so often, I invited him around for some of my home cooking, which he correctly said was far better than his.
Chapter 4, whoops!
Now it was Saturday, the Saturday after the Roger Fucking de-Montis Thursday. Walt was coming round to see me later on. He was going to take me out to dinner to, as he put it, make up for my experience with that asshole. I was looking forward to a nice dinner, with friendly banter and nothing too serious.
Right now, I was horny. It had been ages since I'd enjoyed anything with a man. I thought sadly that men didn't seem to know how to give me much enjoyment. Dinner this evening wasn't going to be a prelude to anything of that nature, so after a frugal lunch, I stripped off my clothing, showered, and opened the drawer that contained my limited selection of toys.
I knew Bob wasn't going to come charging to my rescue. I had been down that road yesterday evening after the Roger F-d-M fiasco. Bob had failed me, leaving me very frustrated and reliant on my hands.
I thought for a moment, then decided on padlocks, chains, and ropes. It was something I did occasionally. It never failed to give me a powerful erotic charge, after which I had no difficulty in using my fingers to achieve a nice, frustration-releasing orgasm. That would put me in a good mood, ready for my non-date with Walt.
First, I went downstairs, unlocked the main front door, and turned on a couple of lights. Vulnerability was the key to this particular exercise. It was safe enough. In this area, nobody was going to come into the house when the lights made it obvious that the owner was at home. But the thought that somebody could, the thought of being helplessly at the mercy of an intruder... That was what made it so erotic.
Why that strange fantasy? I didn't know. Perhaps it went back to my fantasy of being tickled into submission and then thrown down on the lawn and fucked.
Then I had a short drink of water and went to the bathroom. I didn't want to have to release myself in mid-session for a pee, as had happened once before to me. That was a real mood killer.
Finally, I was ready. I went back to my bed. I tied my ankles carefully to the two bottom corners of my double bed. I put the key to the padlocks on the bed, within easy reach of where my hands would be. Then I used one padlock to fasten my chain around one wrist. I pushed the other end of the chain through the bars at the top of the bed and back. After my usual gulp at the thought of making myself so helpless, I wrapped the end of the chain around my other wrist and used the second padlock to fasten it.
I was now bound and helpless on my back with my legs spread - the classic rape position. Of course, the key to my freedom was within easy reach. But in the highly unlikely event of an intruder, I might not be able to get free before he finds me. In my fantasy, intruders were always 'he'. Once he had me in his grip, it would be easy for him to take the key away and prevent me from releasing myself while he had his way with me. I writhed in my bonds, feeling very vulnerable and increasingly turned on.
The key to self-bondage, I had found, was not to spend too long in that position. It needed to be long enough to get me sufficiently turned on, usually about ten minutes, but not so long that I got bored. Once I was nicely buzzing, I turned to my carefully positioned key and pushed it into one of the padlocks.
It wouldn't go in. What the hell? I tried harder. Still not working. I tried the padlock on the other hand. Once again, it wouldn't go.
A horrible suspicion came over me. I looked carefully at the key. Shit! I had the wrong key. Now I genuinely was stuck. Shit, shit, shit, and a thousand times shit!
Over the next half hour, I tried everything I could to extricate myself from this predicament. Nothing worked. The wrist chains were too tight to pull my hands free, and the ankle ropes likewise. There was no way I could break the ropes or pull them free of the bed legs around which they were tied. I was completely and hopelessly trapped.
The realization of this, of course, continued to arouse me. I could have given myself the most wonderful orgasm at that point if only my hands had been free, but they were chained irretrievably above my head.
"Fuck!" I said. "Fff-uuuu-ccckkk!" I said, a bit louder, not too loudly, because I didn't want my neighbors to hear.
That made me wonder whether somebody would rescue me if I screamed loudly enough. Possibly, but it didn't seem like a good idea. Either I would have an extremely embarrassing encounter with one of my rather straight-laced neighbors, or my screams would bring somebody I didn't know.
Despite my fantasy, I didn't want to be raped by a complete stranger, and there was a nasty risk that whoever came in would take a worse advantage of me. They wouldn't want me to be able to identify them. Thoughts of rape and then strangling went through my head. No, I wasn't going down that road.
A slightly better thought came to me. My friend Walter was coming to pick me up that evening. Knowing him, he would probably arrive about an hour from now. It would be horribly embarrassing, and he would undoubtedly take full advantage of my embarrassment, probably for months to come. I would suffer hugely for it and might never live it down, but at least I knew he would release me safely.
It was the best option I had. I waited, casting occasional glances at the clock on the wall.
*****
It was slightly less than an hour before I heard the ring on the doorbell. It rang three times with intervals between. Then there was silence for a couple of minutes. I guessed that Walt was going around the house to see if I was in the backyard, and no doubt noting that a couple of lights were on in the house. I heard him try the front door. It opened, of course, and somebody entered the house.
Now I was wondering. I hoped desperately that it was Walt. I was mightily relieved to hear his familiar voice. "Bean?" he called out.
I couldn't bring myself to answer. I was too embarrassed.
"Bean? Bean!" Then louder and more urgently, "Geri! Are you alright?"
I had to answer. "No," I yelled out. "I'm in my bedroom."
I heard Walt bounding rapidly up the stairs, two at a time, from the sound of it. My bedroom door crashed open, and he dashed into the room.
"Bean, what...?" Then he stopped, having seen me tied, spread-eagled on the bed.
"What the hell?" he said. "Who did this to you? Oh God! Have you been raped? Are you injured? Fuck! Speak to me, Bean!" He seemed to be panicking a bit.
I shook my head. "I'm okay, Walt, just stuck," I said in an embarrassed voice and looked up at my chained wrists.
He came over to my bed and examined the chains on my wrist and the two padlocks. Then he saw the key next to my hands. He stood back. "Oh, Bean!" he said, and a grin appeared on his face.
I found my voice again. "Walt, please, just release me," I said faintly.
He examined the key on the bed. "I don't think this key's going to fit those padlocks," he said, seeming far too happy about this. "I might have to call a locksmith."
There was the most almighty, shit-eating grin on his face.
"There's another key in the bottom drawer beside my bed," I said in a small voice. I knew exactly what else he would see in that drawer.
Walt opened the drawer. "What have we here?" he asked rhetorically. With an expression of great delight on his face, he brought out for my inspection my padded handcuffs, a few more ropes, a blindfold, and a large dildo. He tried the switch on the dildo, but it didn't work. I knew that already.
I felt as if my whole body was burning. I knew I was bright red with embarrassment. But he didn't bring out the key that I knew was there.
"Walt, please. It's the small, steel key you need."
"Oh, I can see the key," he said in a teasing voice, "and I guess I'll release you at some stage, but not before I've extracted full value from this wonderful situation. Think of it as payback for all the suffering you put me through when I had that motorbike accident."
"I looked after you, Walt," I said in a small voice.
"Yes, and don't think I'm not grateful, but it's how you tortured me as you did it, Bean. Seven months, seven fucking months you tortured me. All that teasing, and that cold shower, for Chrissake. All I could do was take it on the chin because I could hardly move. Now you can't move, so this is payback time." He grinned evilly at me.
Fuck. He was enjoying this far too much.
"First, I want all the details," he continued, "all the details," he emphasized, "and I'm going to engrave them on my memory. You're going to hear about this for months or maybe years to come."
"Oh God! No, Walt, please, just release me. You can hold the inquisition afterward."
"Oh, I don't think so," he said gleefully. "If I release you now, you'll happily withhold all the juiciest bits from me."
That was exactly what I hoped to do, of course.
"No," he continued, "details first, then I'll release you and take you out for a consolation dinner. If it's juicy enough, I might even pay for dinner."
I resigned myself to it. I knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't give up. "Bastard. What do I have to tell you?" I said tiredly.
"Everything, of course," he said. That shit-eating grin was back on his face. "First things first. Tell me whether you did this to yourself or whether I have to beat up some other asshole."
"No other asshole," I said, "just the stupid idiot you see on this bed. Yes, I did it myself."
"And I thought I was stupid having that accident. Well, well! But why, Bean, why? What possessed you to tie yourself up in this way and even leave the door unlocked for Chrissake? Anybody could have walked in."
"Very unlikely," I said. "That's why I leave lights on in the house."
"But why, Bean? I don't understand."
"You wouldn't," I said. "But a girl has needs, you know. It's been so long since..."
I shouldn't have started that sentence, and certainly didn't want to finish it.
"Since you last slept with a man," he finished for me. "But you kept dating, didn't you? I know you did. You even told me about your failures."
"Walt, I told you about all of them."
"All of them?" he exclaimed. "But Bean, does that mean that all this time you've never..."
I nodded sadly.
"What about your friend Bob? I thought you and he had something going."
"Bob's broken, Walt," I said.
He looked very puzzled. "Broken? What do you mean?"
"His fucking battery's gone," I yelled out, suddenly angry, "and when I replaced it he still didn't work. Walt, you're holding Bob in your hand. Battery Operated Boyfriend! Don't you understand? Except that now he's a non-operating boyfriend. I'm renaming him Nob," I finished sadly.
Walter looked down for several seconds at the broken dildo that he was still holding in his hand. When he looked up, I thought his eyes looked moist.
"Bean!" was all he said.
Then he put down the broken Bob, leaned over, and kissed me gently on the forehead. It was the tenderest gesture, and it brought me close to tears myself.
Walt sat up suddenly. I thought he might release me, but no. The evil glint was back in his eye, and he grinned again.
"For months, I thought you had a serious boyfriend," he said, "and now I find out he was just a piece of plastic."
I closed my eyes and nodded sadly. There was a brief pause, then...
"This puts a whole different complexion on things," he said, "You have needs, you said it yourself, and I haven't yet extracted full value from this situation. Seven months of torture are waiting for payback. It seems to me, Bean, that your needs might coincide very neatly with my payback."
My eyes were wide open now. "Don't you dare!" I hissed at him. I could guess what he was thinking. He was going to play with me, tease me sexually. He might even go the whole way and bring me to some sort of orgasm, probably using his fingers. And then the details of my sexual responses would be flung back at me for months or years to come. It was going to be excruciatingly embarrassing. Restrained in this very exposed position, I could do absolutely nothing to stop him.
Once, of course, I would have been delighted to have Walt play with me in that way. That was when I had dreams of him wanting me, of him making passionate love to me. Now I knew that he didn't think of me in that way. It would just be embarrassing. And it might re-open the Pandora's box of my crush on him, rip off the bandages I thought I'd put on my heart. It was a disaster.
"Oh, I dare alright," he said, and he leaned over and kissed me full on my lips.
We had never kissed like that before. His lips felt lovely on mine. After a few seconds, I felt his tongue rubbing gently across my lips. Besides, my lips seemed to have a mind of their own and opened. Okay, I could probably handle kisses.
Of course, the kiss stirred up my desire even more. That Pandora's box beckoned. I forced myself to make another, probably futile, attempt to persuade him not to continue.
"Walt, please," I said in a faint and slightly quavering voice. "All I was trying to do was to put myself in a good mood for a lovely dinner with you. And then it all went wrong. Please, Walt, just release me. I'll go to the bathroom and get rid of my excessive hormones. That'll be embarrassing enough. And we can go out for dinner. You don't have to do this."
It was doomed to failure, of course. He had the bit between his teeth now.
"How about if I would like to?" he predictably said. He kissed me again, this time for even longer.
There's only so much kissing a girl can take when the kisser is a man she has lusted after for years. I responded, this time more wholeheartedly, my tongue engaging willingly with his. Eventually, I forced myself to turn away. Bound as I was, there wasn't much I could do when Walt insistently turned my head back towards him and kissed me again.
"Walt, please!" I murmured when I managed to free my lips again. I wasn't sure whether I was saying 'Please continue' or 'Please stop'. My body was starting to react, and I was very aware of my completely defenceless and wide open state. He could see everything and do anything he wanted to me. I was feeling very vulnerable.
"I haven't finished yet," he said, still teasing me. "My best friend has needs, and I haven't yet extracted full value from this wonderful situation, so..."
He tickled me. After playing around together in the lakes, the bastard knew precisely how ticklish I was and where. I squirmed desperately, but I didn't have much freedom of movement. I giggled almost unstoppably and yelled at him to stop whenever I could get enough breath.
Even though I was desperate for it to stop, I found the tickling far too arousing. It was back to my fantasy of being tickled to a jelly and then passionately fucked. I was sure he would sense that. The smell of my arousal would have told him if nothing else.
Eventually, thankfully, he stopped and kissed me again. I was so relieved that I happily kissed him back.
His hands went to my breasts and stroked them. It felt wonderful. When his fingers caressed and gently massaged my sensitive nipples, I couldn't prevent myself from moaning. I looked up at him with pleading eyes, unsure what I was pleading for.
The shit-eating grin returned to Walt's face, and he leaned over and sucked experimentally on one of my nipples.
"Aaagh," I yelled as the sensations radiated outwards from my nipple to various other, far too sensitive parts of me. My body reacted on autopilot, pushing my breasts towards him.
"Aha!" he said, with a triumphant grin on his face, as he pulled away. "I am so going to enjoy finding out what turns you on!"
Oh God! That was exactly what I feared. I tried again.
"Walt, no, please! Just release me. I want to go out for dinner with you."
"If you think I'm passing up this wonderful opportunity, you have another think coming," Walt said gleefully. "Seven months of payback. This is my chance to explore the deep Bean and build up a good, solid piggy bank of fascinating facts about you for future years. No way am I stopping now."
Shit! This was going to be so embarrassing. I was never going to live it down. I could foresee decades to come in which Walt would gleefully throw intimate details of my body's reaction at me.
The trouble was that my body was telling me it wanted this very much, even though my mind was thinking of the embarrassment to come and knew that it would probably open romantic wounds that I hoped I had closed and bandaged over.
Fuck it. I was completely at his mercy and had no option in the matter. I would enjoy it while it lasted. It probably wouldn't go too far, and then I'd be very aroused and probably frustrated, but maybe there would be a chance to go to the bathroom and relieve my arousal. I'd get the bandages out again afterward.
For the next half hour, Walt explored all those aspects of my sexual response that I knew he would find and several that I had no idea about. My neck? How is that an erogenous zone? He even found my G-spot but pulled away, muttering "Ah, there it is" before it could send me over the edge. I was going crazy with need. My hips were pushing up at him, and I was sure he could see the longing in my eyes whenever our eyes met.
My body, of course, was loving the attention. And most of my mind was now rejoicing in the fact that my best friend, my crush, my walking, swimming, and camping companion, was attacking me in a very sexual way.
I was no longer thinking of the years of evil teasing to come. I wasn't even thinking of the embarrassing position I was in, naked, spread-eagled, and helpless in front of my best friend. No, I wondering whether I could persuade him to go the whole way and fuck me.
Instincts I never knew I had were in full control of me now. I writhed and moaned sexily, and sometimes yelled out. I wanted him to know how much I was enjoying this. He could have little doubt.
I was also very frustrated. His stimulation of me was very effective, but every time I came close to going critical, he stopped. "Walt, please," I exclaimed in desperation eventually. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"
"I think I'm getting a reasonable idea," he said smugly. "It might be your bodily reactions that give you away, this lovely flush, the way your nipples are standing to attention, the way you press your hips and your boobs up against me. Or maybe it's your moans and yells, or perhaps this intense lubrication just here and that lovely aroma," and he teased my clit and my vulva again. I let out an involuntary moan and an "Oh, shit!"
Then, unexpectedly, he pulled away from me. I groaned at the loss of his fingers.
He stood up. "Geri," he said, suddenly serious, "I'm so sorry. This teasing has gone too far. I let myself get carried away by the lovely sight of you lying here in front of me. I'd better release you. I'm so sorry," and he bent down towards the drawer containing the all-important key.
"No!" I yelled at the top of my voice. "You can't stop now. For God's sake, keep going."
I knew what was happening. His stupid gentlemanly nature was going to make him stop. And I desperately wanted him now. This was a chance, probably the only chance I would ever get, to have my dear friend make love to me.
He looked a bit worried now. "What would you like me to do, Geraldine?"
"No!" I yelled again. "Don't go all formal and Geraldine on me now. I need you, and part of you wants this as much as I do." I glanced at his shorts, which were tenting prominently. "Get those clothes off and fuck me, Walt. I need a good fucking. Please, Walt! I don't care if you hate me afterward. Just do it!"
"I won't hate you, Geri. But are you sure?"
"Seriously?" I yelled at him. "After all this teasing? Of course, I'm fucking sure!"
That wonderful grin covered his face again, and he hastened to remove his clothes. After that, he did fuck me, hard and gloriously. I didn't have much experience to compare it with, but this seemed like heaven to me. This was my best friend fucking me, and I could feel our connection firing on steroids. It far exceeded my limited experience of sexual liaisons. Anything I could do on my own paled into insignificance against it.
It was also a blessed relief. After all his kissing, fondling, and teasing, I came very quickly, spasming and pushing myself desperately up against him as far as my bonds allowed. He kept going, piston-like, and I came again before he finally came himself, inside me. I knew I'd have to pick up the pieces of myself afterward, but just then I felt great.
Walt went to the bathroom and came back with a damp cloth, which he used to clean us both up. Then he located the key and released my hands. I flung my arms around him. He escaped and untied my feet. I lay looking up at him in a euphoric and totally sated state.
He sat up and looked at me. "Dinner time, Bean? I suggest..."
He never finished. All I wanted to do was lie here and experience the moment, fully absorb the feelings, so I grabbed him. "Fuck dinner," I said. "Just lie down here and hold me, Walt. Please! I've never felt like this before, and I need to be held."
He held me. I turned over, and he spooned me. It was lovely. I pulled his hand onto my breast. I hadn't intended to, but I quickly fell asleep.
Chapter 5, talk-talk and...
When I woke, the clock told me it was getting toward eleven o'clock. Fuck. I had slept the whole evening away and completely missed dinner.
Walt was still beside me, but now I seemed to have my head on his shoulder and an arm and a leg possessively over him. Shit. That wouldn't do. It was probably embarrassing him horribly. I quickly pulled away from him.
Walt turned his head and looked at me. "You okay, Bean?"
I nodded. "I'm fine. You?" I replied cautiously.
I was now seriously regretting some of my outbursts while he was teasing me. I could almost hear him whining 'I need a good fucking' in his usual, poor imitation of my voice as he teased me. Shit, I had played right into his hands. Why hadn't I controlled myself better?
A smile came over his face. "I'm very fine. Just processing what you said to me as you put your arm over me a while ago."
"Oh God, what did I say? I don't remember that."
"Not surprised. I think you were half asleep at the time. You said, and I quote: 'I love you, Walt'. Do you, Geri?"
"What? I said that?" I exclaimed. I couldn't remember it at all. "Oh, Walt, I'm sorry, I never meant to pressure you. I shouldn't have said it. That's so embarrassing. I'm so sorry," I repeated.
"I'm not," he said. "I just need to know if you mean it."
"What? Yes, I probably did mean it. Look, I'm sorry. I know you don't think of me like that. It must be the effect you had on me earlier. I'll get over it, okay? You don't have to..."
Walt interrupted me by grabbing my head and kissing me. Then he turned completely towards me and put his arms around me. He looked into my eyes. "Bean, I'm very okay with that, just sorry I've been such an idiot all this time."
"What?" I didn't understand.
"For a long time now, I've wanted to do precisely what we did earlier."
I was astonished and delighted at his words. I could hardly believe it and looked at him silently for a couple of seconds, I think with my mouth open.
Then I couldn't help teasing him. "You've wanted to rape me when I was tied up? You pervert!"
My massive grin probably spoiled the effect.
"Stop twisting my words, Bean! I've wanted to make love to you. The tied-up bit was irrelevant, although it was quite sexy when I think about it. But Bean, Geri, do you know how long I've wanted to make love with you? Years, absolutely years. I just never thought you were interested in me."
I pulled away in astonishment. "What? How...?"
Then he turned serious. "Geri, please tell me what you said when you were half asleep is still true. Do you love me?"
I grabbed him. "Walt, you idiot, of course, it's true. I've loved you forever, ever since we were at school together. Of course, I fucking love you."
It was all too much. There were tears in my eyes as I looked at him.
"We're obviously a pair of complete idiots," he said. "That's about how long I've loved you," and he burst into laughter.
"But why..." I started, but I couldn't continue. Tears were flowing now.
"Geri, we've always been good friends. We've done so much together. I've enjoyed it all. I didn't want to lose all that if I tried to kiss you or something and you rejected me."
I wiped my tears away. "But you never tried anything. Never asked me for a date. I thought you... Walter Leverington, all that time, I just thought you never found me attractive. Beanpole and all that."
"Don't say 'Beanpole'," he insisted. "You're not a beanpole. You're lovely, absolutely perfect. I've wanted you forever."
I was in tears again. I was such a mix of feelings. When I recovered, I tried again. "All those fucking dates I tried with those stupid fucking..." It was no good. I couldn't find adequate words to express my distaste for them all. "They weren't you, Walt," I wailed. "It was always you I wanted. How didn't you see that?"
"Geri, I think I just didn't see the signals I was looking for," Walt said. "My father impressed on me as I was growing up that girls give signals to men they're attracted to. They dress up, put on makeup, jewelry, perfume, wear revealing minidresses with lots of cleavage showing, you know the sort of thing. He said that I shouldn't try anything with a girl until they had given me those signals. When you didn't..."
I interrupted him. "Walt, I never use fucking makeup or perfume, you know that. And I don't even own jewelry. For God's sake, I wore shorts and crop tops when we went walking. I couldn't be much more revealing without walking in a bikini.
"And I don't do dressing up, you know that. Not my style. I only have one short dress, the one I wore for that stupid date with Roger Fucking de-Montis. Anyway, isn't that what prostitutes wear?"
"I think I can probably tell the difference between you and a prostitute," Walt said, grinning again. He was teasing me again. That was good.
"Oho, wide experience of prostitutes, have you, Walt? To quote you, I want all the details." Two could play this game.
"Fuck you, Bean," he said.
"You just did," I said and grinned at him.
He flipped the bird at me.
I still couldn't understand why Walt had never thought I was interested in him. I started up again.
"Walt, I stripped naked to shower you when you were injured, we went camping together, we skinny-dipped for fuck's sake. How many times did I strip myself naked in front of you? How is that not a signal? If you'd rolled me over and fucked me on the grass by the lake that first time, I'd have been delighted. When we messed around in the college pool, I wore the tiniest bikini I could get away with. How is that not a fucking signal?"
"I thought that was just a standard college-girl thing, or maybe a protest at that religious crowd," Walt said guiltily, obviously a bit embarrassed by my list of the signals he missed.
"For fuck's sake, Walt. Yes, I guess it was partly, but mainly I wore it for you. Couldn't you see that? I even left the ties loose so that you could 'accidentally-on-purpose' pull it off me. But you never did. I was so sad."
"I guess I was just looking for the signals my father told me about. And then I lost hope when you moved away so that you could start dating."
"Walt, I moved away because I was getting frustrated. I decided I had to get over you. I loved you all the time. Oh God! Four fucking years that we could have been together." I thumped his chest in my frustration.
That's when I suddenly realized that I had been as much of an idiot as my dear friend, Walter. He hadn't seen the signals, but neither had I. He very visibly enjoyed my company. We had great fun together when we were kids. We walked together. We camped together, and he was as naked as I was when we slept. He skinny-dipped with me.
I was a 21st-century girl for fuck's sake, and in the 21st century girls also asked boys for dates. Indeed, I had done that myself with a few unattached men at my office. I just never asked my best friend, my crush, the man I loved, my lovely Walter. How stupid was that? Neither had I ever kissed him. I could so easily have done it. There had been many opportunities.
I was as guilty as he was of not taking our friendship to the next level. I realized suddenly that I had also been nervous about risking our wonderful friendship.
I looked at my dear friend and nearly lost it again as I thought about my stupidity and all the wasted time. I thought about offering an apology. Then I thought what we needed was probably to move on.
"Tell you what," I said, "we've both been idiots. I didn't act on the signals either. I could just as easily have asked you for a date. I could have kissed you or jumped your bones in that tent, or when we went skinny dipping.
"How about this for a deal? You don't tease me about what you found out about me earlier, and I won't tease you about prostitutes or raping people when they're tied up." I kissed him. "Neither of us says anything about the other's failure to take the initiative." I kissed him harder.
"And," I went on, "we need to agree that from now on we both tell each other what we are thinking and feeling. Full disclosure, Walt, full disclosure, on both sides. You're going to know what I want, and I want to know what you want. No more misunderstandings. Okay?"
"Agreed on one condition," Walt said, grasping my hands, "that we make up for lost time."
I kissed him again, forcefully and for several seconds.
"Starting now," he continued. "I'm going to make passionate love to you again, and then we're going to sleep what's left of the night away. In the morning, we're going to make up for missing dinner with a huge all-day breakfast somewhere, and then we're going for a long walk to a place where we can skinny-dip again."
I looked at him with another huge grin on my face. "And you can throw me into the water as often as you like and even tickle me, as long as you throw me down on the grass and make love to me as soon as we get out. Deal?" I said as I hugged him tightly.
"Deal," he replied. Then he kissed me forcefully and proceeded to make long, slow, and very fulfilling love to me before we went to sleep in each other's arms.
We did all of the above. We had a scrumptious breakfast at a local restaurant. We walked. We found a lake and skinny dipped. Walt threw me into the water, not headfirst because it wasn't deep enough, and then tickled me mercilessly for a couple of minutes. The water was freezing, and I was giggling and struggling desperately, but I didn't care. I was anticipating what would happen next, and it did. He put a thoughtful towel down on the grass by the lake, turned to tell me how sexy I looked as I emerged from the water behind him, and then made wonderful love to me.
The following day, a Monday when I should have been at work, I developed a nasty one-day stomach bug while I helped Walt move in with me.
***** THE END *****
You need to log in so that our AI can start recommending suitable works that you will definitely like.
There are no comments yet - be the first to add one!
Add new comment