Oh shit shit shite shit! And shit again.I always have to be clever don't I/ I have these bloody wonderful blopdy ideasd that are so blopdy clever...@
Until I actually7 try them out that is...<
Oh bollocks bnollocks and double hollocks.
What's really pissing me off ast the moment is that I don't even know wether what I'm writing is coming out or not . for all I know I could be tryp oops typing that'st better.I think. What was I saying oh yes I cann feel the keys and I thinlk my fingers are in the right place b7t for all I know I could bne typing complete gibbertish!
I knew I made a fguck up there I could feel it. Good job I was trained
to touch type at school wisn' t it/ Apostrophes are a bit tricky though, Why,
qwhy ? because I,m bloody bvlindfolded that;s why! Oh I must get this thuing
off! Nmow if bend my head forward and rub it against the monitor I
might juyst ve able to pyush it upand on to mty forehead just a minute,,,
Well that's better, at least I can see again. Mind you, I think I took part of my nose off in the process and I think it's bleeding as well. Oh it is! Oh shit .Oh I hope it doesn't run. I've got one of his white shirts on and I'll look like a road accident. Ah. Oh. I can feel it running down to the tip. I don't think it's a lot but I've taken the skin off near the... what do they call it? The bridge. That's it, the bridge. Well in this case I think it's going to be A Bridge Too Far for you Sheila old girl 'cos you have seriously fucked up this time.
Okay here's the deal. I don't know who I'm talking to. For the sake of argument I'm going to call you Colin...Colin Computer, okay? Well it's all the same if it's not because I need someone to talk, or rather write to, at the moment, and you're it!
Now Colin, I'm not going to go into a lot of biographical detail 'cos you know all about me and my little friend Bill, who is not currently here, which is why I have tied myself up and which is why I am in this shit!
But you know all that Colin, because you sit here in my bedroom and you see everything that goes on and you know that I like tying myself up and you also know that I don't have to do it any more because my neighbour... who is a very nice man by the way... well he might read this sometime...
He might well come in when I have been reduced to no more than a skellington and find this note typed on you, Colin, my trusty electronic friend, and think more kindly of me if, in the last thing I ever did before shuffling of this mortal coil, I was actually nice to him for once. HAH... fat chance mate!
I seem to be using the word mate a lot recently. Perhaps it's because I want to. Mate that is. My hormones have been a bit untrustworthy of late and that's another reason I'm worried.
Oh and my knickers are wet as well.
I don't know if you know what it's like to have to sit in wet knickers Colin. You may be a computer of the world, you may well be a Transgendered Computer for all I know, but let me tell you that it's not over comfy. Especially when you're TIED TO A BLOODY CHAIR!
Sorry Colin, I didn't mean to shout then. Well, shout in the metaphorical sense because I can't actually shout at the moment because I've got this fucking great leather gag in my mouth which is also holding down my tongue which is in turn preventing me from doing any shouting or any mumbling or in fact any talking at all! And what's worse Colin, is that I BLOODY PUT IT THERE!
All right. I just took a couple of minutes off then to calm down a bit, do my meditation exercises and think of nice calming things like rainforests and parrots and soft pink pussies, oops sorry, I meant to say kittens or something. That's a Freudian slip if ever there was one.
Wish I had one on at the moment actually, a slip that is; all I HAVE got on is his bloody shirt because it's big and comfortable and it smells of him. It's a clean one but it's still got him on it - hormones again. Oh and a little pair of black knickers. I've tied the shirt off at the front in a big knot like women do in films and even if I do say so myself, I think I look raaather sexy in it.
You know Colin I think that if just took my hands away from the keyboard and then pushed back a bit, I might just be able to get said hands, which as you can see are handcuffed at this moment in time, down and away from the desk and then under it a little so that I could reach my groin area and the aforesaid wet knickers and give them a little rub. Just a little rub you understand Colin.
Actually I think that's a rather good idea of mine because the aforesaid hands are starting to go just a little numb and it might feel as if someone else is doing it, which is always interesting.
Don't go away Colin - I'll be back. Well not that I'm actually going anywhere because as you can see I have tied myself very tightly to this chair, so tightly in fact that I am unable to get out of it. Just a minute....
Well that was a waste of time!
I didn't mention the chain did I? ... Dear God it's difficult typing in handcuffs... Where was I? Oh yes the chain, the chain, the clever bloody chain. The one that runs from the dog collar round my neck, yes Colin I've got a dog collar and no, as you know, we do NOT have a dog. We DO have two cats, one by me and one by him. (If you see what I mean.)
Where other people have children by various marriages or non-marriages or whatever, we have cats. And I have adopted his cat in a short informal ceremony and he, in turn, has adopted mine. So cats we have aplenty but of dogs we have none.
But we, or more to the point, I. DO have a dog collar. A dog collar I might add, which I used to wear quite often, but which I don't use any more because he doesn't like me to put anything round my neck in case I strangle myself.
Although I do suspect Colin that there are times when he would quite like to perform that particular task for me!
I went off again there didn't I? Right, the chain. Yes, the chain is connected to the dog collar at one end and the handcuffs at the other and it was snagged on something earlier on which is why I nearly denosed myself on the monitor getting the blindfold off. Guess what?
Yes Colin, you guessed right!
You may have a cigar.
If you smoke that is and I don't know that you do and it's probably very Non-PC of me to even bring up the subject. I know you have a tendency to make odd little noises during the night, but then so do, so I don't suppose I can complain there!
Anyway, the chain... Yes I was all psyched up there... thought I was going to have a little release.. All aquiver I was....You can work out exactly where and what was quivering for yourself Colin.
So I got hands away from keyboard, pushed self back in chair, got hands under desk, inched hands towards knickers and in direction of moist, pulsating little puss which was quite definitely looking forward to having a little digital manipulation and. ...
Well of course the chain was too fucking short Colin! Even when I lowered my head as far as it would go. So I pulled a bit. Head bent in prayer position, hands cuffed in similar. Pulled hands down a bit, head followed. Pulled hands a bit more, fingers near waistband of expensive Fredericks of Hollywood knickers. Goal in sight. Lips twitching, clit getting ready to say Hello Boys to inquisitive little fingers. One last pull...Fingers reach knickers, thumbs try to grasp waistband. One final tug at chain, rope around shoulders loosens a bit, fingers rejoice at sudden (limited) freedom of torso. Completely forget about desk! Clitty pulsates at thought of a quick rub. Desk doesn't do anything because it is inanimate object. Head moves suddenly forward.
Head hits desk with considerable force!
Do you know Colin, that I saw colours that I think people only normally see when they have been taking something illegal! Of course I tried to swear but I couldn't because I had so very thoughtfully gagged myself beforehand. (Good job I didn't use the penis gag or I might have found out what Deep Throat really means).
I mean I could see the thing coming towards me, but so intent was I in getting my itchy little fingers into my itchy little sexual area that I didn't realize it until it was too late.
Is it all right to play with yourself with concussion? Assuming I could that is!
Okay, so not only am I still tied up, but I've also got a bloody nose and what will probably turn into a big purple bruise on my forehead and if, and when, I get out of this and if we ever go out together again, people will look at us in the street and see this big burly bloke and this petite gorgeous brunette and think "He beats her up!" Well I've got news for you Colin - he doesn't have to - I can do that quite well on my own, thank you very much!
I really could do with a cigarette right now.
With that in my hands I would probably have the extra couple of inches I need to stroke my clit!
So you get the picture Colin. I'm naked apart from his shirt and my Fredericks high cut knickers, which are the genuine article for once and are sooo soft and sooo sexy and I am so wet that it hurts...come back, come back... yes, yes, and my feet with the bright red toenails are tied together and pulled off the floor by a rope around my ankles, which in turn is tied to the back of the chair and, oh yes, my big toes are toe cuffed together as well - wheeeee!
Then Colin, I am tied to the chair at the waist and above and below the breasts. Come now Colin, think breasts. Not TITS but breasts that's a good boy!
Not only that, but I also have two diagonal ropes which criss cross my body at intervals and are knotted at pressure points like my naval and my breastbone. They then go over my shoulders and are wound round and round the rungs of the chair back like two little cotton spiral staircases until they reach the original knots, where, clever girl that I am, I was able to cinch and then knot the whole caboodle together. Good eh?
Oh but Colin that wasn't good enough for me! So what did I do? I'll tell you what I did Colin. Not content with all that, the toe cuffs and the trainee Japanese Shibari bondage and all, I decided to do something else, 'cos all that wasn't good enough for clever old me. No, not at all. So do you know what I did Colin, or shall I tell you?
Yes, I'll tell you Colin, because you may not be able to see too well through my/his shirt although most men seem to think that they can when they ogle you (or wish). Well keep wishing Buthter because it ain't going to happen.
Any way what did I do? I decided to tie my tits up that's what I bloody did!
Now they're not very big but they're very nice, pretty little titties. Well I think so and he doesn't complain - not that he would dare - but that's not the point. So I wrapped rope around and around and around them and now I've got something that resembles two bloody hot dog sausages with big over ripe cherries on the ends sticking out from my chest and looking very dark and brooding also aching like shit (If it is at all possible for shit to ache).
I once saw some mushrooms that were called Shitake mushrooms in my local Tesco. I wonder if that's what happens after you've eaten them...you know, they make your... Shitake...? All right, all right, Colin I DO know that it's actually pronounced Shitarkay. Nobody loves a smart ass. Especially an electronic one!
Am I becoming delirious? Must be that blow on the head!
Oh he's going to have the arsehole when he comes in!
Or rather he won't. That's part of the problem. He'll come in and he'll go into the kitchen were the cats are, 'cos I keep them in there when I'm playing, because I have enough trouble keeping one pussy in order without having another two wandering around the bedroom rubbing up against me and pawing things that they shouldn't be pawing. Besides they're not old enough to see this sort of thing. I mean Bruce is four and Geri is only three.
Well yes Colin, I DO realize that in human terms they are 28 and 21 respectively but to be totally honest, if I were the Prime Minister of this country I would pass a law stating that no one should have sex with anyone else until they are at least 30! That way there would be a lot less bloody suffering in this world I can tell you.
Oh sex with yourself would be all right. God knows there are enough wankers
around already ...A few more wouldn't make any difference!
So he's going to play with the cats a bit and probably feed them and then he's going to come looking for me, 'Cos by now he will have guessed what I'm up to and he's going to walk in here and he's going to see me tied to the chair in front of the computer, well, You in fact, with my feet up in the air behind me and my leather gag and my sausage tits and my hands chained to my dog collar and the rope...ah ...I didn't tell you about the rope, did I Colin?
I was feeling sort of patriotic and I wanted a bit of variety so I used different colours for effect. Blue around my ankles. Oh I did my calves and thighs as well by the way. Red for the criss crossing around my body and white for the ropes round my waist, chest and tits because I thought it would make a nice contrast!
Oh it makes a contrast all right! Have you ever seen MAUVE tits before Colin?
No, neither had I, until today.
And they ache! Oh boy do they ache! And they throb. They throb like, like... like something that throbs Colin. You know like a huge glistening nine inch fully erect penis....sorry, sorry, got carried away again ...And the nipples. Oh my nipples.
If I were a cartoon character, and sometimes I think I just might be, my nipples would have dropped down on little hinges and great blasts of hot steam would be coming out of them by now!
I always seem to be talking about my nipples if what HE writes about me is to be believed of course and I would advise you very strongly not to Colin. Believe him that is. He is, after all, a man and they lie often enough and readily enough to make a politician blush.
That's probably because I always have to do something to them! (My nipples that is, not politicians.) Like putting clamps or clips on them or tying them up or something. (If you ARE a politician then you can probably get that done for you anyway). You know Colin; if I were a psychiatrist, I'd probably say that deep down in my subconscious I really don't like my tits at all! Which is why I do these horrible things to them...yeah!
Truth is, if there is a truth that is, my tits, whoops breasts, are very sensitive.
Like most women!
Remember that Colin. If ever you meet a lady computer on the Internet. Let that be something that forever stays inside your 64 megabytes of RAM.
WOMEN HAVE SENSITIVE BREASTS.
Particularly at certain times of the month!
If you aren't familiar with that concept yet I will explain it to you on another occasion.
What this means Colin, is that we like to have them lovingly stroked and kissed. We like them in short, to be treated the way WE want to be treated by and large, Colin. As something warm and precious to be handled with courtesy and respect, to be pampered and loved and caressed. (No, not fondled Colin, we New Women do not respond well to fondling).
What we do, by and large, respond well to Colin is simply this; Warmth and Tenderness. Well I may well be oversimplifying things here but those two certainly help.
What we DO Not respond very well to is a big pair of dirty hands having a quick grope and a pull, I think I could happily heave a fondle in there as well, accompanied by the smell of beery breath and all manner of rumbles and belches and farts as a precursor to having a particularly small, smelly, cheesy and normally unprepossessing looking penis stuffed up you for an extremely short, sharp and particularly unsatisfying shag after a night up the poxy pub!
Heed that Colin! Heed that well if and when you meet Molly Microsoft, or Doreen Dell or Hermione Hewlett-Packard and you feel tempted to pop out to the cyber pub...Oh oh ouch ouch ouch...oh shit oh oh I was trying to swing my legs a bit then and I stubbed my fucxkxing toe on the chair.... don't go away Colin...
Oh! I tried to rest my head on the desk because there were tears in my eyes and my little toesies hurt and I closed my eyes to blot out the pain, miscalculated and hit my already bruised forehead on the keyboard. I've probably got qwertyuiop tattooed for life on there now.
And you know what it's like when you hurt something. Everything else starts playing up as well. So now my nose is hurting and my head is killing me and my sausages are throbbing. Colin I'm just going to stop and have a little cry don't go away.
Right that's better. Let's recap shall we?
Okay I'm sitting here in front of you Colin, because I have tied and gagged myself because I wanted a little rest and relaxation before my best buddy Bill came home from work. Oh and incidentally he is not the big handed, beer swilling, dirty, unwashed penis type I was telling you about earlier...he has got big hands though!
See this is where things started going wrong.
I'm at home Colin because I was having a new bed delivered. Well you can see it there can't you? Oh and what a bed it is! Isn't it a lovely bed Colin? A Four Poster. Modern design, elegant velvet drapes. Saw it in Heals; fell in love with it, bought it. Due to be delivered today. They couldn't give a time so I took the day off.
I spent weeks planning this. He doesn't know about the bed. I planned it all like a military operation. Bought red satin sheets...bugger I've got an itchy puss. Oh that's bloody marvelous that is, ooh right on my left lip. SHIT!
I've already tried to get down there once with hilarious consequences. Oh I'll just have to ignore it and hope it'll go away. I'm trying to bounce up and down on the chair but all that's doing is making my head ache and my titties jiggle. Oooh that feels quite weird, I think I'll do it again... and again! Oh dear now I've got another itch in my puss but it's for a different reason.
Ignore it; ignore it! I've stopped jiggling now. Look at the bed Colin. All made up with the red satin sheets and I've bought some of those fancy black candle holders that you get in the posh shops...that's why I've got the shirt and knickers on 'cos I wanted to seduce him and I wanted to get in the mood for lurve!
I batted my eyelids seductively then, don't know if you noticed, difficult to do when you're tied up and suffering from concussion and a wet pussy! If you've got concussion you see double don't you? Yeah just my luck! I'd probably see two pussies and play with the wrong bloody one!
I have got this FABULOUS black satin peignoir - nightdress to you Colin. It cost a bloody fortune - it's Fredericks as well, if you must know, but of slightly dubious provenance, you should see how much the real thing costs mate!
When he came home tonight Colin, the flat would have been in darkness apart from the warm glow of my candles, as opposed to the warm glow of my nipples that he will actually see when he gets here. The bedroom door would have been closed and when he opened it he would have found...ME!
Little old Me. Draped languorously across my new metal and somewhat Hi - Tech looking four-poster. Bathed in warm candlelight, lying seductively on my red satin sheets and wearing nothing except my black peignoir and a little Jean Paul Gaultier behind the ears. That's the perfume not a REAL Little Jean Paul Gaultier...I'm probably dehydrated by now as well.
But I had to go and spoil it didn't I?
The bed had come earlier than I expected and as I hadn't, I thought I might redress the balance by well, you know. Well you do bloody know 'cos you can see the results! And instead of coming home to a Sultry Seductress he's going to walk in on Ronald bloody Macdonald with the smudged make up and the sore head and the bloody nose and tits like sausages!
Tits like sausages.
Sparrows like breadcrumbs.
I drifted again there, sorry.
But he won't be mad at me. Well he will in a way 'cos he worries about me. That's sweet isn't it? Isn't it? Well of course it is and he's devised all these little failsafe options for me if I do go off the straight and narrow. For example; there's a phone by the bed with enormous great keys. It's on the desk here now actually. I can phone his flat, hands free, by just pressing 1 on the keypad with my nose, or anything else that might be handy at the time. If I don't answer when he picks up then he knows I'm in the shit!
DO I swear a lot Colin? He says I do. He says I do it when I get stressed. Well that's surely the whole bloody point of bloody swearing isn't it?
Push number 2 and I get his mobile, which is always switched on for obvious reasons and if I push 3 I get my best friend Linda's mobile. Linda. Well I'm not sure that you're old enough to know about Linda yet Colin. I mean I've only had you six months
Not had in the biblical sense of course. I'm not sure how you'd fuck a computer! Oh, hit it with a hammer... it'd be fucked then wouldn't it? Oh I'm so funny I could cry. They did it in Demon Seed though didn't they? You know that really weird film where the computer takes over the house and kills people 'cos he wants Julie Christie to have his Cyber Baby and at one point the computer ties her hand and foot to her bed in just her shirt....
Hmm, I might need to have a little think about that one...
Oh what was it called, not the baby, the computer, Proteus that's it. Proteus. They used Robert Vaughan's voice. All soft and quiet and sinister. Oh that man. That man makes me all itchy! Especially when he was Napoleon Solo in the Man from Uncle. So good looking, so refined, (isn't that part of a song?) so smooth, so well dressed, and yet you always suspected that lurking behind that polished façade was...a Bastard. A right Bastard! But a very smooth, suave Bastard none the less and yes I did have a bit of a crush, used to watch the re runs on BBC 2.
Don't get me wrong Colin; I'm not one of those people who are into Bastards, though I have met a few in my time. Oh no no no Colin, I'm more than happy with ugly old, boring old Bill. Happier than I've ever been in fact. Another problem there as it happens...anyway, Proteus, Proteus, what a bloody name! Why couldn't they have called it something more every day? Like... well Colin!
Now don't go getting any ideas here Colin or you are going to be on the first house clearance van out of here!
Someone told me I looked like Julie Christie once. Mind you it was along time ago and we were both drunk and he was trying to get into my pants, which is a pretty bad combination. He didn't. Get in my pants that is. I'm not so stupid as to fall for some hoary old chat up line like that! I think I was violently sick just after he said it actually.
Probably just as well!
Linda. Yes, Linda. You see Colin; she's a professional mistress. No, no, Colin. She's not a prostitute and don't ever tell her that, or you will be one dead pile of microchips. We need to get this straight. My friend Linda is a professional mistress who BEATS people in exchange for money as opposed to a prostitute who has SEX with people in exchange for money.
Linda, let me be very clear on this, does not DO sex! Well not with her clients anyway. Linda tends to prefer women, well not this women, but other women. Which I happen to think is a good idea because when she does hook up with men they always seem to be the wrong ones.
So let that be a lesson to you Colin, even Mistresses make mistakes.
So anyway if I have a little accident both my best friends are on hand to help me. They never actually say anything but I'm sure they think that I'm a little wrong in the head sometimes. Huh! He who's writing a story about my little foibles and who didn't have sex for ten years. Ten years! I could have drowned the first time we did it...!
And she who beats people for a living!
It's a good job they don't have PA - Perverts Anonymous or they'd be packing me off to it at the first opportunity, for my own good that is.... "Hello my name is Sheila and I am a Pervert...."
All because I like to tie myself up sometimes..........
Problem is there are two Sheilas; Sensible Sheila and, well, Adventurous Sheila. Sensible Sheila sits on one shoulder wearing sensible shoes and a knee length skirt and a jacket from Marks and Spencer and Adventurous Sheila wears fishnet tights; patent leather ankle boots with 5-inch heels and a shiny black leather leotard and probably sits on the other shoulder playing with herself! And these two Sheilas are engaged in a constant fight for my attention.
Guess who won today?
Most of the time it's a battle Colin, not between good and evil because
I'm not like that, well only with people who piss me off. But between sitting
around on my fat arse watching television or reading the paper or KNITTING
In other words doing something just because there is nothing MORE interesting to do, OR DOING SOMETHING REALLY INTERESTING, which in my case just happens to be tying myself up, and I like it, so there! Yah BOO Sucks To You!
Okay, so Adventurous Sheila got the better of Sensible Sheila today - she's probably got her tied up and gagged somewhere. Oh, the thought of me in the fishnets and the boots tied and gagged just made me shiver and I'm still wet so....
See Colin, you probably find it surprising that I can still get horny after what I've been through this afternoon, you know broken nose, fractured skull, mashed tits, but I DO Colin. That's the problem. Being tied up does that to me. It makes me horny and sexy and I feel glamorous (Well maybe not right now) and helpless and shivery. Especially when He's here.
Oh don't ask me why Colin, he's not exactly Bruce or even Brandon lee, (more like Christopher Lee actually and about the same age) no, no, that's not true. He's just so, so, straight and well nice! (Well, when I say straight, as far as perving goes he's as bad as me except that he prefers to tie me up rather than himself).
God! The very thought of him trying to tie himself up is frightening. He'd dislocate every dislocatable bone in his body AND a few others AND have a hernia in the first five minutes...
See in him, Colin, I've found a like-minded being - a soul mate if you like. He likes what I like and he understands what I like and I can talk openly to him about it and he doesn't keep saying "what" and look puzzled and he doesn't make any judgments about it and I don't feel guilty or embarrassed about things that I like or do, well maybe today, maybe later on, maybe just a little.
That's assuming he ever arrives of course.
That's assuming he hasn't had a heart attack or been run down by a bus or something, (I hope he's got clean underwear on!)
Still there's always Linda. Yeah but what if Linda suddenly decides to take off for a week and switches off her mobile...or gives a client a particularly hard beating or has one die on her and gets arrested or something...Where does that leave me?
TIED TO A CHAIR WITH SAUSAGE TITS AND TWO, NO, THREE LOCKED UP PUSSIES. THAT 'S WHERE IT BLOODY LEAVES ME!
Okay okay. Plan B! Plan B! Problem is I don't really want to go to plan B - I'll explain that in a minute. You see the simple truth is Colin that I shouldn't really be in this predicament at all because HE has provided me with a veritable armamentarium of tools with which I SHOULD be able to free myself if and when the need arises!
He actually bought me a rather snazzy little electric blue, easy open toolbox in which are all manner of weird and wonderful tools with which to cut myself out of trouble. Safety knives, blunt ended scissors, pliers, hacksaws, neatly numbered sets of spare handcuff keys, padlock keys thumb cuff, toe cuff and spreader bar keys, wire cutters, smelling salts, antiseptics, you name it, it's in there. (There's even a little tube of KY jelly)...FOR EASING RECALCITRANT LOCKS IF YOU MUST KNOW COLIN! God what a dirty minded computer you are turning out to be, I really must have a word with Mr. Gates about you!
And since you ask Colin, no we do NOT have sex when I am tied up, well not very often anyway. Well HE doesn't. Sometimes I DO! Sometimes spontaneously Colin, without any outside influences at all, apart from the ropes and stuff that is and sometimes he provides, well let's just say that sometimes he provides a helping hand!
As far as lovemaking goes, yes Colin we prefer to call it lovemaking. I'm sorry if you find that prudish of us, but as far as lovemaking goes, he prefers me untied and I must admit I do now agree with him. It's alright for you who doesn't have arms and legs but you would not believe what sort of tangle you can get into when bits of you are tied up and your partner and lover is trying to insert a portion of himself into the bit of you that is, hopefully, not tied up too much and then you both start giggling! (Giggling through a gag can have its perils believe me)
On one occasion, early on, when my arse was sticking high up in the air and for reasons best known to ourselves, he attempted said insertion, at my somewhat muffled request, but unfortunately managed to slip a little upon entry and nearly inserted suitably condomed instrument into my rear entrance which is not now and never has been open to visitors...we stopped trying soon after that.
I really could go a packet of crisps right now; Cheese and Onion would be nice. Well I can't get a fuck so I might as well eat.... Eating, Fucking and Sleeping. Oh and Shopping and having rows with rude bloody people on the checkouts, and feeding the cats, oh and defleaing the cats. Where DO they come from? They don't go out. Is there a sign outside our door that says in flea "There's a couple of silly cats in here with a pair of sillier owners who would just love you to come in and live off them for a few weeks. Bring a tooth brush?"
Eating, Fucking, Sleeping, Shopping and Cat Defleaing That's all I ever seem to do!
What a life!
What about the escape equipment...Oh yes Colin... Sorry. Yes the escape equipment! Where is it? Simple answer? - I moved it out of the way earlier because the Bed Men were coming and now it's sitting over there in that nice fitted cupboard and it might as well be on the FUCKING MOON for all the good it's going to do me!
But, I hear you ask; "What about the handcuff keys? Surely even a wrong headed, simple minded, not to mention, scatty, cow like yourself, would at least remember to furnish yourself with the keys to the handcuffs which are currently locked snugly on to your wrists and making typing, not to mention dallying with your almost permanently lubricated and overripe little peach, extremely difficult and totally bloody impossible respectively."
Well first of all Colin I would like to thank you, on behalf of myself, for raising such a pithy and indeed pertinent question, which has, I feel, got right to the heart of the matter in one short "thrust" as it were.
Oh and could I do with a thrust right now..Several in fact.
In reply I would like to state quite unequivocally that the keys to my handcuffs are in fact; UNDER THE FUCKING CHAIR WHERE I DROPPED THEM JUST AFTER PUTTING THE BLOODY THINGS ON NEARLY TWO BLOODY HOURS AGO!
Thank you Colin. I trust that clears up any misunderstandings or confusion that may have arisen over the last eleven pages or so. Eleven pages, is that what I've written? Bloody hell!
See, why I did this in the first place Colin was to see what came into my mind whilst I was tied up. And originally I was going to do it blindfolded to see, you know, what impressions came into my mind and to record how I felt and to see whether or not I started automatic typing. You know like some people do automatic writing ...
You're not really convinced about that are you Colin, I can tell from that sort of, well, blank look that you're giving me. You just think that I tied myself up to give myself a bit of a wet puss and have a bit of a fiddle about don't you?....Well let's say I was trying to kill two birds with one stone shall we?
Escape options. Maybe Salt and Vinegar crisps, Pork scratchings? Grue! What made me think of them, I don't even like them, yeuck, when I want to stuff bits of hard pig into my mouth...I'm not going any further with that one, thank you!
Escape! Well there's Plan C which we have discussed but consider should be used only in a dire emergency. This is for me to bang and thump on the floor so much that it causes the Jackson's, who live underneath me, to come up and find out what the hell is going on. We're normally very quiet and they being members of the local Neighbourhood Watch Scheme know where I keep the spare key.
However Mrs. Jackson is a very nice and very kind and cheerful lady of Jamaican origin who is also very devout and I shudder to think what she would do if she were to see me like this! Probably have me exorcised for a start!
So that leaves Plan D, which is to press 5 for the police! Of course I wouldn't be able to speak much but they would be able to trace the call.
What do you say to the police when they walk in?
"Good afternoon Officer, lovely day to tie yourself up. I say that's a nice looking truncheon, mind if I use it for a few minutes? Yes of course you can video it for the Station Christmas party..."
"Hello officer that's a nice pair of handcuffs you've got on your belt, oh look I seem to have an identical pair round my wrists at the moment!"
It would be no good lying to them and pretending that I'd been tied up by a burglar or something, I'd probably get done for wasting police time.
Oh and what if there were women officers present, Oh God, oh God, I mean they look at you with contempt as it is without having to sit here and explain why and how I managed to do this....
(TIRED VOICE) "Oh yes madam and your upper area, how did that, er they, manage to become tied up exactly?"
It doesn't bear thinking about. But I'd probably tell her anyway in the hope that she'd probably have to go home and have a damned good wank afterwards.
No Police! I don't care if I have to be here for days until they let him out of the hospital or Linda returns from her wanderings. I don't care if I have to sit here in a pile of my own poo until someone comes and at this rate it certainly ain't going to be me...No Police!
Plan B. Ah there's the rub oh I wish I could, I wish I could....even a little rub would be nice right now. But Plan B ....
I went away for a little while there Colin I'm sure you noticed. I popped off to Ashley Renee's site, yes Colin I AM a member and yes she is a woman and yes it is a bondage site and no Colin I am not "Into Girls" per se, although that is where Plan B comes in.... but it's a very nice site Colin and Ashley really does have a lovely body, I'm looking at this from a female perspective Colin, and the pictures are extremely high resolution. But it is not her body that fascinates me Colin.
It is her POUT!
No one pouts like Ashley Renee. I mean it Colin, no one but no one. Can you see the pictures from the inside I wonder? That look, that pout, it is SO intense it makes my spine tingle. It makes my teeth ITCH! Ashley Renee could pout for America Colin. In fact Ashley Renee could pout for the World. I just go there sometimes just to look at those lips and those eyes in perfect harmony and it feels as if my spine is melting. This, in my humble opinion, is a woman friendly site Colin. The pictures are often huge and in glorious full Technicolor detail.
This is not a collection of posed smutty Polaroid's with a sexist male narrative chucked in to justify the fee. There is humanity here Colin, there are emotions, there is life, there is action and it doesn't JUST come from Ashley, although she emotes her socks off (if and when she is wearing any!) and you can see from the expressions of the people with her that they are really INVOLVED, not just bored onlookers.
Sometimes it's almost surreal. Ashley thoroughly tied up wearing LOADS of eyeliner and looking absolutely gorgeous (I tried the same sort of thing and ended up looking like an old slapper! He said it looked nice, but I KNOW Colin), whilst Eden Wells drinks from a can of Budweiser and then throws her legs in the air and starts playing with herself. Huh, chance would be a fine thing right now!
Then there's Ashley as a schoolgirl, which is improbable enough, but the pictures are in black and white and they are not your normal, grainy fetishy black and white fare Colin, they are almost art. Ashley really does look as if it's the thing that she does best. Her expressions are sublime.
Her diary accompanies the pictures each week and she more or less allows the world to see inside her soul, probably revealing way too much...What, like I'm doing now, Colin? Well you're the only one who's going to see this aren't you? Don't think I've got too much to worry about there!
I FEEL LIKE A CRITIC. Hmmm. Wonder where I could get one right now?
There's this one picture, where Ashley is in the naughty naked nude, as Ian Drury might say, and she is tied up in some nice Shibari Bondage, (a bit better than the dog's breakfast I managed to make of this I have to say), and she has a crotch rope and she has been waxed. No not her legs, oh never mind. She has been waxed and there is no pain showing Colin, just that pout, that gorgeous, soul defining, life affirming pout and I very nearly didn't have to do anything else for a moment... Ashley and I were as one. I think she might have been on the verge in that photo and so was I for a second and then it went. Damn damn damn!
That pout says everything about her that I need to know Colin. It says more than a thousand words ever could and that long black hair and that pale lustrous skin and that perfect high cheeked boned, sultry, sulky face.
I don't know whether I love her or I hate her, Colin. It's simple jealousy of course but I'm a woman and I maintain the right to be jealous so there!
Now I have been known to throw the odd pout or two, HE often tells me I'll get stuck like it if I'm not careful, but compared to Ashley what passes for a pout with me looks more like I'm trying to fart without anyone noticing.
Yes Colin take no notice of all these strait-laced harridans who tell you that they don't. ...Women do fart Colin, well I do AND I admit to it and I don't try to blame it on the cats either.
Perhaps I'm unique!
After sex, mmm. After sex, that's a real problem that one. Just when you and your partner are cuddling up, having reaffirmed your lover's vows and you're feeling all gooey and he's probably knackered and could either kill for a cup of tea or a piss, (You must have gathered by now that HE is not a wham bam thank you ma'am, whip it, in whip it out, rollover, go to sleep and snore type), but is selflessly holding you and stroking you and making all the right noises and has even been good enough to stay inside you for a little while and not pull out straight away and thereby allow all your little muscles time to recover.
Then, just then, when all is right with the world and you have just given him a little peck on the cheek and he is looking at you as if you are a bundle of fifty pound notes that he just found in the street, it is then that you suddenly realize that you are about to let loose a string of highly audible, fire cracker type farts that will not only destroy the pleasant cosy post coital atmosphere of the bedroom, but will also wake up the people in the next building into the bargain.
It's the air being pushed through your puss by the man's enormous throbbing penis, sorry, carried away again, that does it, I think.
Okay plan B. Oh please not Plan B it could cause so many problems.
See plan B is phone Sarah on her mobile. Sarah lives with Linda and Sarah knows about my little peccadillo and me. Sarah's a sister at the South Hackney and she doesn't live too far away. Linda's "dungeon" is in Hampstead and Bill is, oh wherever Bill's job likes to take him, of course where his mind is is often another matter. Probably being wracked by images of me in a strait jacket hanging from the ceiling. Hmm haven't done that one yet....now there's a thought!
Sarah is older than Linda, and I'm older than Linda but I'm younger than Sarah and Bill is, well Bill is older than everybody, (everybody in the world I think). Oh I will have to hide this from him won't I?
It's like one of those conundrums. From the clues provided, decide how old each person is, where they live, what they had for breakfast and exactly who is screwing whom? Oh dear that could be slightly more relevant than you might think!
Right let's sort this out once and for all okay.... Deep breath here goes...
I've always thought that I couldn't have children! I had a miscarriage about 20 years ago and it did me a lot of harm. Well it nearly killed me! I lost an awful lot of blood and the result was, that I was told none too gently, to forget about ever giving birth again!
Now I was never that strong on kids but it's still a blow and I DID feel for a long time after that that I wasn't a proper woman. My husband at the time thought so to. I walked out on him the first time he hit me!
No, I'm sorry Colin, my name is Sheila, NOT Ms Punch bag 1983 and I don't care how sorry they are afterwards, once they've done it the first time and found they've got power over you and that they ENJOYED it, they'll do it again. And again. And again.
So, no second chances with me matey, one strike and you're out!
I met Linda at school. She was a lot different then to the Linda I know now. She's had speech modulation training for a start. That's the new term for elocution lessons. She says that men want to be ordered around by someone with a bit of class, not some old tart with a cockney accent!
Anyway she pulled me through it and we lived together for a while. Well about ten years to be precise and it was ALWAYS platonic, you'll see why I mention that in a minute. It was about this time that my predilection for the ropes started to reassert itself and Linda encouraged me. Said I needed a hobby! It's always been there, but latent, if you see what I mean.
Anyway I'd never really given the child thing too much thought until I met Bill and well, I've started to go all broody and hormonal and started thinking about actually having children. Me with kids! I know.... I know.
I mean he says he's too old and it wouldn't be fair on the child. God he's not Methuselah, he's only 48. Look at Michael Douglas. But I'm not sure that I would make the perfect mother; well not if I'm tying myself up in some cupboard half the time.
One day I was out with Linda and Sarah and well it had been on my mind for days and Linda could see that something was wrong and after a lot of probing in Starbucks it eventually all came out. Sarah told me not to be so silly and to at least go and get myself checked out. Things having changed a lot in the last 20 years apparently. New technology, new procedures and all that. There was a good possibility that they might be able to patch me up now. I don't think she put it quite like that but you get the gist.
Sarah managed to get me into an outpatient's clinic on a cancellation a few weeks ago.
Look Colin there is something I need to make quite clear at this point. Now I know that I call myself a perv but I don't hurt anyone except possibly myself. Well definitely myself I think. Oh I do EXASPERATE Bill sometimes but that comes with the territory. Can't take a joke shouldn't have joined, that sort of thing. Life, as he has said before, is never dull with me around, he's normally scratching his head or cocking a Spock like eyebrow at me when he says it, but he likes a challenge...
I also take comfort from Kraft Ebbing who said that wanting to be tied up was not pathological whatever that means. But it sounds good, even if he did say it a hundred years ago. The problem there is that although you, or rather I, may not be pathological, the people who want to tie you up sometimes are! So be warned Colin!
Anyway it might be nice if I stuck to the point for once, wouldn't it Colin? Well in this case I think I might be trying to put off the evil moment ...Outpatients Clinic.... Outpatients Clinic.
So they called my name and I went into this little cubicle where I took all my clothes off and put on one of those bloody paper gowns that make you feel like a packet of chicken pieces and laid down on this gynaecological couch, you know the ones with the stirrups that seem to turn up in a lot of bondage scenarios and this one actually had the straps that secure your legs oooh...
Well that was it! I'm naked apart from my wrapping paper and my feet are up in the air and my puss is extremely accessible and I even gave a thought to just trying the leg straps. Oh and then I was away, imagining myself being tied to this contraption at the wrists and at the legs and having straps put around my body as well.... I was helpless Colin, (in my mind's eye), and I started to wonder what would happen if the nice, efficient looking young nurse I had seen in the corridor earlier came in and asked if I wouldn't mind her tying me up and gagging me for a few minutes, purely in the interests of medical science of course..
And I could see her Colin! I could see her in my vivid, not to say feverish little imagination. All sweet and clean and smelling of soap and saying "Don't worry we'll just tighten these straps here and this one there, just bite on the gag for me, that's good, just going to take your gown off now....
Ever seen one of those natural geysers Colin, no I don't mean Vinnie Jones, he's a natural geezer. Well they start off by bubbling, then the bubbling becomes more intense and it soon turns into a bloody great gush, well that's how my puss felt Colin. Here I was, nearly naked and nearly helpless, on this bondage table and I was well on the way to becoming A WET BUBBLING MASS!
And then Sarah came in!
Sister Sarah in her smart blue uniform and her black tights. I assume they were tights only now I'm not so sure. Anyway she knew I was next on the list and she popped in to see how I was doing. BIG MISTAKE!
Sarah is quite big Colin, A size 16 probably and she's a few inches shorter than me and she's got that sort of short blonde fluffy/curly hair that people used to pay hairdressers fortunes for in the seventies. Only hers is natural! She's big, not fat, just big. She's got a large body but also muscular calves and quite large legs, (probably from doing the wards all day), so she doesn't look out of proportion. She's a strange mixture of motherly and sexy at the same time and sometimes she'll have a wicked little glint in her eye that makes me think that there's a lot more to her than she lets on!
Now I don't know too much about Sarah and Linda's private life. Strangely Linda's never talked about it and I know her well enough not to ask. I have a feeling that they may JUST be friends. But when Sarah came in and walked up to me and looked at me it was like I knew everything about her and probably vice versa.
She KNEW what was going on with me Colin and I CERTAINLY knew what was going on with me, from the geyser in my nether regions to the tingles in my bare toes to the dryness at the back of my mouth to the little sparks flying up and down my spine and I looked at her Colin and her eyes were big and wide and innocent and I knew right there and then what she wanted...SHE WANTED ME TO TIE HER UP ON THAT TABLE NAKED THERE AND THEN AND GAG GER AND TEASE HER AND STROKE HER...But there is more much more.
Not only did she want me to do it to her, but I wanted to do it to her too!
I wanted her naked and tied up on that couch Colin. I WANTED her there. I wanted to see those big thighs and those lovely soft titties and I wanted to stroke and touch them and I wanted her to be as relaxed and as calm as she could be under those circumstances and I wanted her to feel what it's like to be really tied up and really helpless with someone who knows what it feels like themselves.
Having someone tied up is NOT about domination or beating, well not in SHEILA LAND it's not anyway!
It's about love and trust. It's about being utterly helpless and utterly dependent on someone else. (Believe me those people are few and far between). I could do it for Sarah! I knew right then and there that I could.
I could blindfold her and gag her and stroke her and give her little light touches in unexpected places. I could kiss her, I could, well at that moment I could have done a lot of things and I wanted her to wriggle a little and shiver a bit and maybe shudder occasionally and I wanted to hear her gasp and moan and pant, but most of all I wanted her to ENJOY it!
Being tied up to me is not about pain and suffering, well it might seem to be when I do it to myself, but it's not intentional. But I KNEW what Sarah wanted right then and for the first time in my life I really wanted to love another woman. Oh dear.
OOOH spasms! Nerve endings! Tingles all up and down my back. Tingles in my fingers Tingles in my toes, this is getting quite intense. Now if this was television you'd be able to help me out wouldn't you Colin? You know, you'd have a spare proboscis tucked away in your hard drive or a nano hand that you could have a little explore in my nano puss with. How about it Colin come on it's put up or shut up time...
Typical man! Just when you need 'em to deliver the goods ...nothing!
Well I'd just seen all of Sarah and she'd seen an awful lot of me and we were just looking at each other like rabbits look at a car's headlights I think, when, thank goodness, the doctor came in and Sarah, in the time honoured tradition of the News of the World, made an excuse and left. Leaving me with Dr Burtmann, a tall slim angular lass, about 10 years younger than me, with long dark hair and a brusque manner and I was in full Ashley Renee mode by now, trying desperately not to pout and willing myself to become a desert downstairs and she strode dramatically past me on her (slightly) high heels, came back with a stool and started doing what for her is her everyday business. Asking questions and taking notes.
Normal for her. Like a visit to the female equivalent of a massage parlour for me. And at one point Colin, at one point, she leaned over to me and asked a question in her curt manner and for a few seconds she was touching my knee and I can tell you Colin that there were great concerns at mission control that lift off was about to occur prematurely ...but that wasn't the worst of it Colin oh no!
Now I'm not into medical fantasies much, apart from the couch, so the speculum and the thing they put on their head that looks like a miners lamp didn't do anything for me at all, but I was really dreading her getting any nearer, you know, hand wise.
I mean, I don't know how other women react when they are examined. I didn't
really have anything to worry about for a start but I am absolutely sure
that I am not THE ONLY WOMAN THAT WAS WET WHEN DR BURTMANN EXAMINED HER.
Well she put her fingers in and didn't say anything, she had rubber gloves on as well so she wouldn't necessarily have felt how wet I was, but I was having these terrible visions of being so wet and slippery that I might cough or something and she might lose her whole hand in there and of her having to hike up her skirt and put one leg on the table to try to pull it out. Worse still, having to call Sarah to grab her by the waist and pull like some bizarre tug of war team before her hand finally emerged with a sudden squelch and they both landed in a heap in the corner of the room.
Well fortunately for all concerned Colin, that didn't happen but I can tell you that she gave me the gentlest and most thorough examination that I had ever had. I mean some of these doctors (men AND women) are so rough you'd think they were trying to carve a new opening down there, but not Dr Burtmann. No, she was gentle and she was considerate and she kept asking me how it felt and I had to be very careful at times not to say "Wonderful. How is it for you?" But I didn't of course.
Her manner changed as well, she was no longer brusque and curt. She was kind and solicitous. Still slightly aloof, but I think that's part of her defence mechanism and also it's part of the attraction!
Oh yes Colin, I do feel that there's an attraction there. Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear. But wait Colin it gets worse...she decided to use the straps and strap my legs into the stirrups...well that was it wasn't it? First Sarah, then her, followed by a bit of bondage.... Lift off!
Oh God, Oh God. Wobbly legs, shivery back, goose bumps, pounding heart, dry mouth.....rich bubbling puss!
The engines had certainly fired, the gantries were lowering and the countdown had most definitely begun but fortunately I was able to cut in to failsafe mode and abort before I reached the stratosphere.
Failsafe mode, that's if I want to delay things, so I think about the most ridiculous thing that I can imagine at the time.
In this case it was HIM in leather trousers and a leather waistcoat and big boots sporting a ponytail and carrying a whip...never been know to fail...had to suppress a giggle. She must have thought I was a fruitcake. Or maybe she didn't 'cos the next time she saw Sarah she asked in a very discreet way if she thought I was gay!
She doesn't know about Sarah because she doesn't broadcast the fact that she lives with another woman. Sarah was ostensibly happily married for fifteen years to a doctor who WAS gay and only decided to tell her ten years in when he broke up with a house officer he'd been seeing on the side for most of their marriage!
How did a Mistress and a Full Time Health Professional meet? Well Colin, to cut a long story short, Linda had been having pains in her right arm for some time, but one morning she woke up and she had lost the use of it completely. Worried that she might have had a stroke or something, she took herself off to Accident and Emergency, where Sarah, on that particular day, was Duty Sister.
Now Linda is not an ordinary looking sort of woman. She's six two in her bare feet for a start; she also has waist length dark brown hair with an impossible shine and apple cheeks and a mischievous look. Oh and she tends to wear a lot of leather. She's very upright and walks with the sort of poise and grace that even some models can't manage. You could say that she stands out in a crowd Colin.
Anyway, it was summer and she was wearing blue jeans with strappy four inch heeled sandals and BLUE nail polish and a silk blouse and a leather waistcoat and Sarah, who is nobody's fool, began asking her questions about her job, whilst she was doing triage on her and they got talking and Sarah, yes Sarah, who was totally sanguine about talking to someone who tied up, dominated and quite often whipped men for a living, eventually asked Linda out for a drink, but not before she had told her, Colin, that in her opinion, which would need back up from a doctor, Linda was suffering from RSI!
Yep, Repetitive Strain Injury. CAUSED BY OVERUSE OF HER WHIPPING ARM, WOULD YOU BELIEVE!
And she was right! So Linda decided there and then that the day job had to go. She'd already done some modeling and a bit of writing and she also wanted to start her own website, which, even as we speak, (or write!), is very close to being launched, and yes, she did meet Sarah for that drink and they haven't looked back since!
Is Linda a rebound thing? I don't think so. Neither of them seems to take roles, they just seem to be two women living together who happen to sleep in the same bed. Both of them deal with men a lot of the time in their working lives, one damages them and one repairs them, if you see what I mean! Between them they've got a cottage industry going there!
They could probably set up their own business as an offshoot of the NHS - The Lady Linda Hutton Memorial Wing for the Mentally Bewildered, or something. That's Linda's professional name by the way, Lady Linda! One of her brothers used to be (he's no longer around) a Beach boys fanatic and he called her that all the time - it stuck!
I'm probably sending out a lot of mixed messages here, but what the hell. I like women, I like them very much. I am in fact one myself, in case you hadn't noticed. But I prefer to have sex with men for some unknown reason. Just the way I was brought up I suppose, upper working class background, strong moral values and all that.
Even if I didn't, why would I have to be labeled? I HATE BLOODY LABELS! I'm not, as far as I know Colin, gay! But "GAY" is just a label, what does it mean? I've never felt the need to have "SEX" with a woman in real life and even if I had, does that mean I'm gay? Does it mean I'm bisexual? God that one sounds even worse.
Why does it have to be labeled at all? Why do people have to be so bloody precious and call themselves something? If you like playing around with women so what? You like playing with women! Do you have to be gay? Ooh I'm having a rant, aren't I Colin?
When I was "single" I used to have fantasies, not an enormous amount, because I could do a lot just by tying myself up! Now here's a thing. When she was "learning the ropes ", as it were, of her current profession, Linda used to ask me if she could tie me up for practice. Oh happy day! Sometimes she'd tie me and gag me and tie me and gag me over and over again. It was like Christmas every day.
And every time she finished I'd waddle back to my room in my soaking wet knickers and play with myself in utter bliss for what seemed like and probably was hours. Of course she knew Colin! In fact I think she wanted to see just how much of a state she could get me into sometimes, as a mark of her professionalism and skill! But it always stayed a private thing - actual sex, even just a little rub would have spoiled it between us. I am convinced of that. So we never went there. There were a few close calls though!
Anyway, fantasies... If a woman tied me up in a fantasy Colin, it was more or less coincidental. To me, being tied up by a woman was less threatening than being tied up by a man. And I'd had some dodgy experiences with men in real life..
It was never sexual as such. It was more what you'd call the Damsel in Distress Fantasy I suppose, where I might be caught or trapped by another woman, have most of my clothes taken off me and then tightly tied to a chair or a post or whatever happened to be available. There was never any sex involved.
I might be in an episode of the Man from Uncle, or The Avengers, or something like that and yes Colin I DID get rescued by Robert Vaughan a lot, though sometimes, at the risk of going all shivery again, I might be an enemy agent who He had to tie up and let me tell you Colin that he always seemed to take his time over the tying!
Some women have violent sexual fantasies I don't! I've been on the receiving end of sexual violence and the thought of it does absolutely nothing for me at all. There's no violence in the way I get tied up. In SHEILA LAND it's calm and measured and a bit (or maybe a lot) sexy.
I'm not into whips, or dominance, or submission. Calling someone Master or Mistress, yeah like I would, yeah like Santa Claus works in July! Sorry. Calling someone Master or Mistress does nothing for me at all. I just like being tied up! That's it. Don't read anything else into it, BECAUSE IT'S NOT THERE!
I LIKE BEING TIED UP! I'm not dominant or submissive - label that one!
Not in a dungeon. Not in some sleazy back room or basement. But in the comfort, not to mention splendour, of my own bedroom, by someone in whom I have the utmost confidence and trust. That someone obviously not being myself, as you may have gathered. The fact that that someone is also my confidante and lover and best friend...
Oh you've seen him Colin, which is probably just as well, otherwise you'd probably go off the deep end and imagine some sort of 25-year-old Prince Charming with white teeth and a big heroic smile and a little soft moustache. Oh sorry, I'm getting giggly again.
All right, all right, Prince Charming he ain't, but I love him. Oh God Colin I love him and all of a sudden I'm going all gooey again and I want to have his baby and I know that it's not sensible and I know that in my heart of hearts it wouldn't be fair on the child and I know, yes I DO know Colin, that I won't go through with it because the outcome was that I CAN be fixed. Yes Colin they can rebuild me. They can create the world's first Bionic Crone...Went again then didn't I? Problem is I don't want any little accidents...and I don't want to deceive him either because that's happened before...
A short treatise on men and condoms:
They haven't got a clue!
That's it they haven't. Bill trying to put on a condom. I mean just watch him! Oh he does try. He's a dear. He really does try, but it's hell watching. I mean bearing in mind that we're both fairly psyched up and he's trying to open this thing in the dark! (Yes we like to have sex in the dark and the quiet and solitude of the bedroom where we can share our most intimate moments. Instead of, lets say, a roundabout on the M 4, or on the balcony or in front of a bloody web cam. I know that might make us sound weird!) So, by the time he's got it open he's probably gone soft and then he has to try and find the bloody thing, his dick that is, well and the condom as well, because he's probably put THAT down to try and breathe some life into his flagging member.
His member remember is now only an ember!
That's quite clever, I think, for the spur of the moment.
Now bear in mind Colin that this charade used to take place when I was tied up and I had to lay there watching him fuck about with this bloody condom. I mean for Gods sake, it's only a penis it's not that big! (Take it from One Who Knows Colin.) Dear me, for all the effort and the grunting he used to put into it you'd think he was trying to put it on over his head or something...now there's a thought! And when he was trying to get the aforesaid member going again I used to get quite worried that he'd forget about me altogether and just finish himself off before I even got a look in. Oh and then, when he did finally get the thing on, he'd normally manage to put his finger through it and then he'd have to start all over again!
Just imagine...Having to watch all this malarkey tied to the bed AND gagged and not being able to tell him exactly what you think when he's hopping around on one leg trying to put this thing on. No, I don't know why he does that either... But THAT Colin, THAT is REAL torture. Forget all the whips and the chains, just try watching someone being a complete Pratt and not being able to tell them exactly what you think. Yes Colin, it is a bit like Prime Minister's Question time I suppose.
So we stopped having tied up sex and now I can put the condom on for him and if his member needs a little life breathing into it then I can do the breathing and I don't have to worry any more about him strangling himself with a Durex Fetherlite. No, because if necessary Colin, I can do THAT for him as well!
You have to remember a couple of things. I can't take the pill because of a slightly overactive thyroid. So we have to rely on condoms. Now he's not used to condoms, as I'm sure you gathered, but what man is? Good grief, the last time he had sex I don't think they'd even heard of AIDS, but he hasn't got a problem with using them as such and he even goes out and dutifully lays a pack of one hundred in every so often. Well the way HE uses them that would probably last us about a week.
But you ask, if I can't have kids why bother? Well there's the rub. I still have periods you see (I'll tell you about them some time Colin) they can be very irregular but I still have them. Oh and PMS as well. With a vengeance sometimes.
Next time you see him ask him about my Pre Menstrual Syndrome Colin, it's a subject close to his heart. Tap him on the shoulder and ask to see the cut on his leg where I kicked him, (forgot I had my Fuck Me Pumps on). Ask him about the vase Colin, that nearly decapitated him!
He walks away.
He doesn't try to calm me down, because he knows that only makes things worse. So he walks away and he goes off and does something. Probably sticks pins in a little wax effigy of me. Then later, when I'm back to being Sheila again instead of Conan the Barbarian, I go and find him. Well it's not that hard in a two bedroom flat and I say "sorry" in an embarrassed little voice and he says that I don't have to apologise because he knows it's not really me doing it ...Actually sometimes he's so fucking understanding that I nearly start all over again.
Women can be very ungrateful sometimes Colin, LEARN TO DEAL WITH IT!
Any way it looks like they can sort me out. Pending them having a poke around with a camera. Oh it's some sort of oscopy I think. Oh a Pussyoscopy or something, I don't know! Anyway, it should stop the irregular periods and you never know, it might stop the PMS, or at least ease it. And I know someone who will be very grateful if it does!
It's a simple procedure apparently and I THINK it can be done under a local and out the same day. Dr Burtmann is going to do it and I think Dr. Burtmann might be, you know. Or am I seeing, er, people who like people of the same sex the way Senator McCarthy used to see commies, under, or in, every bed!
In the huge big wide scheme of things when thousands of people can die if the weather changes or at the will of some Mad Man, does it really matter if Dr Burtmannn AND Sarah both want my body and that eventually leads to what we refer to as sex because we have to bloody label things?
Well of course it does and don't be taken in by all my Liberal Bullshit Colin, because the truth is that I am frightened to death by the whole thing!
Now that would be fine if that were all there was to it, but it isn't. Because it also makes me so shivery and goosy (and wet) sometimes, that I think I might faint. Maybe that's why Victorian women were always having attacks of the vapours. They all fancied each other!
Why Sarah? Why me? Why now? Why Dr Burtmann! I'd never had strong sexual feelings about one woman let alone two, until that day at the hospital that is, and then like buses, they all came along at once and so, very nearly, did I!
For the last however many years women and sex have avoided me like the plague and yet, and yet, the minute I seem to get sorted and am prepared to settle into a nice, (reasonably) stable relationship, the whole of womankind seems to think that I 'm an object of desire to be sought out at the first opportunity. Why Colin? Why?
And it doesn't matter if I want to or not. I couldn't do it to HIM! I don't want that sort of a relationship Colin, I really don't. I've never been an unfaithful sort of person and just because I seem to have become a Woman Magnet all of a sudden, doesn't mean that I am going to start now. So you can see now why Plan B has been kicked into touch... I hope.
I was only throwing in all those references to McCarthy and other things earlier to show you what a clever girl I am Colin and that I used to actually pay attention when I was in school, instead of spending my entire time thinking about who I was going to marry and what sort of house I was going to live in and how many kids I was going to have, and who I was going to shag in the playground. Because I wanted to have a CAREER.
I'm not a complete idiot, I just act like one sometimes, sometimes like today in fact. But I'm quite single minded and if I decide that I want a thing then I go for it.
No Colin, I didn't decide that today I wanted a big purple bruise on my head, that just happened.
Linda and I used to sleep together sometimes for comfort. If either of us were having a bad time, it often seemed the natural thing to do. It's quite weird to be woken up at one o'clock in the morning by this six foot two giant with just a cardigan wrapped around her asking in a tiny little voice if she can get in bed with you because she can't sleep and needs a cuddle. Yeah you wish Colin, you wish!
I am (almost) absolutely sure that neither of us even considered sex. We were just mates. End of story. Does everybody who lives together have to have sex? Bloody hell, hundreds of thousands of married couples don't. Well not with each other anyway!
When I told Bill about us living AND sleeping together he didn't turn a hair, well he can't afford to turn too many at his age. He just accepted it. He didn't give me a sly look or tap his nose or anything.
I know it's supposed to be every man's fantasy Colin, two women I
mean, but it didn't seem to bother him in any way. I mean he didn't make an
excuse and stroll a little awkwardly off to the bedroom and he didn't seem
to be getting an erection. Mind you that can be difficult to detect at the
best of times! Colin if he ever shows any signs that he is going to read
this, I want you to crash immediately. Do you understand?
And yet, if he told me that he'd slept with HIS best pal, then I would be extremely concerned not to mention suspicious and I'd probably have the private detectives on him before you could say Elton John. That's just the way the crumbly cookies as they say! So much for our enlightened society! And I'm not going to go into why two women together are acceptable and two men aren't. ... I have a feeling that it might be a penetration thing. We can't, they can. Oh but where? Brrr.
Sarah, oh yes, Sarah. Now can you see why I'm very reluctant to call her, even though she would be over here in a flash and she'd be all concern and ointment and she'd get me out of this mess...Eventually.
It's not that I don't trust Sarah; it's more that I don't trust myself. She's going to find me like this, remember, and she's probably going to imagine what it was like if she was like it and she's going to be all kind and wide eyed and soft and tender and I'm still gagged and she might not take the gag out Colin! She might sit on the bed next to me and say something like "Oh, you poor thing. How long have you been like this?"
And I'll look at her all misty eyed and pleading and mumble something and try to smile a little smile and then she'll take me in her arms and give me a great big Anais Anais smelling cuddle and start stroking my arms and then move her hands ever so slowly down to my bare legs.... bugger, bugger I might be frightened shitless by the thought of it, but obviously the upstairs departments haven't bothered to tell downstairs about it. Ooooh my back is tingling. Well I might be frightened but that's not going to stop me right now 'cos I'm getting desperate. I had myself going again then but I just couldn't quite make it ...shit!
Right, I've got one last chance at this before Bill gets here and that is The Dream. Yes, The Dream, Colin. That's the real icing on the cake that is. Well you can see why I'm reluctant to call Sarah because things might go too far. Just as an aside let me tell you something about Sarah. She never wears nail polish when she's out even if she's wearing sandals or mules or just open toed shoes, she never wears nail polish oh unless you count clear varnish which she does wear sometimes and it somehow makes her look more vulnerable, more innocent, more sexy. Am I strange Colin? No don't answer that, well you can't can you? Well I'd be bloody concerned if you did let's put it that way.
I was going to tell you a very long time ago about what Bill would do when
he got home. Oh my back's starting to ache and my head still is and my nose
isn't bleeding but it's still sore and my calves and knees are very stiff
from being in the air all afternoon and my bum, well my bum is almost completely
numb, but, and it's a big but Colin, there is another area not a million
miles from my bum that is not numb at all and is still awash with feelings
and other things and my tits, oh my tits just throb and ache and that's making
me wet as well...Oh God I'm perverse. I'm just going to have to lean back
against the chair and close my eyes for a few seconds, I'LL BE BACK!
OOHH. I fell asleep! I feel all quiet and peaceful like I've been dreaming of ponies and bunnies in a little sunlit field with... Ow my neck hurts! Must have slept with it on one side.. Oh and I think I might want a pee soon. Oh God my arse hurts! So much for ponies and bloody bunnies....
Oh and speaking of animals, it feels like I've got a dead horse with all the trimmings in my mouth as well. Why did I have to choose a LEATHER gag?
Bill, yes, Bill. Oh when he eventually finds me, assuming he hasn't been run over or whatever, he's going to come through that door and he's going to stop dead in his tracks and he'll look at me and I'll look at him and I'll smile as best you can smile through a bleeding great lump of leather and I'll put my head to one side. Oow! I did it then and it bloody hurt!
Anyway, I'll look sweetly at him as if nothing unusual had taken place and as if I'm not tied to a chair in MY knickers and HIS shirt, (Good job it's not the other way round or he'd have some explaining to do), and as if my face is not a bruised and bloody mess and my tits are not black and blue with just a side order of mauve and I'll probably wriggle my arse at him as sexily as I can and mumble, if I can manage that, something like "HI HONEY"
And he's going to look at me Colin. He's going to look at me with those soft brown eyes of his and he won't know whether to laugh or run screaming out of here. Fortunately he's never done the latter yet.
That look, how can I describe it? Well I suppose the nearest I can get would be to say, think of a very sad King Charles spaniel with haemorrhoids and you're about there.
And then he might cock an eyebrow again and if I play my cards right that eyebrow is not the only thing he's going to be cocking tonight and then he's going to come over and do a sort of triage on me, you know a damage assessment and see what hurts most and he's going to ask some damn fool bloody question like "Are you alright Sheila?"
Except that he won't call me "Sheila". He'll use my real name, which he hides with this Nom de bloody Plume to protect my identity and my innocence! Hah, after what I've just written I think he's wasting his time with at least one of those.
Sheila! Yes I know it makes me sound old but it was the best of a bad bunch Colin! Anyway he always asks the same bloody question, which I will not deign to answer, of course. I'll probably just growl at him or something. He likes it when I growl. I'm getting quite good at it too, 'cos he asks a lot of stupid questions like that when I'm tied up and gagged and can't give him the answer he deserves - probably why he does it! Oh my, I'm quick on the uptake sometimes.
And then if I'm lucky and I normally am, I'll get THE CUDDLE. The cuddle that tells me that everything's all right and that he loves me (I hope) and that he's going to untie me. He'd better or he's going to be wearing his dinner, even if he does have to cook it himself!
I'm not a good cook Colin!
Forget all this stuff about women being natural homemakers and all that other sexist crap.
Colin, I could burn cornflakes!
Mmm cornflakes. Yes they would do. I like the chocolaty ones that make the milk into a chocolate milk shake and you can drink the chocolaty milk afterwards and end up with a little chocolate moustache when you've finished. How old am I? As old as I want to be thank you. Well at this precise moment I fell about seventy what with all the aches and the pains and the throbs. Will I still have a wet pee you ess ess why when I'm seventy? I doubt it, it'll probably have dried up from overuse long before. Oh and my boobs will be about 2 feet long! That's assuming that I can go another whatever many years without fatally injuring myself of course!
Its four thirty and Bill will be here in about an hour, if I'm lucky, so I think it's time to do the dream Colin. Are you ready for this..? I wasn't.
SHEILA'S DREAM (Being a drama in several acts and involving the following players)
Dame Sheila Wilson (spinster of this parish)
Sister Sarah Beaumont (a friend of the above)
Doctor Helen Burtmann (a strolling player)
I like that, it's got a certain gravitas, I think. You know something Colin? I think I missed my vocation. Oh I'm not really a Dame as I am sure you gathered. Unless we are referring to Dame as in Pantomime, which is probably, what I look like at the moment. Although I doubt if many pantomime dames have tied up tits. Well they're men aren't they? So I don't suppose they have any tits at all. And neither will I if I keep this up!
Anyway they've both got titles so I thought I'd better give myself one. Oh I wish I could right now, I really do!
Right a little background to this. It was a Friday night and I like Friday nights because I can get tied up for as long as I want without worrying about having to go to work the next day.
Now, sometimes he turns the baby monitor on and leaves me and sometimes he sits with me. This depends on what sort of mood I'm in and whether I feel like company or not! If he stays, he takes up residence in the armchair near the bed and reads the paper.
Yes Colin, whilst I am tied up and struggling he sits there and reads the bloody Guardian! Yes, I know he's a snob, but what can a girl do? Well she can do her best to try and kick the thing out of his hands as often as possible for a start! I always enjoy that one.
On this particular occasion he had done a rather good job on me I have
He had literally covered me in soft cotton rope, orange soft cotton rope as it happens, from my ankles to my shoulders. As adventurous Sheila was on the prowl again I had opted to wear nothing apart from a smile and he is always very careful when I am like this because he doesn't want the ropes to burn me. Oh he is so considerate!
First of all he made me a nice orange body harness that started with a rope around the back of my neck, he kissed it, my neck that is, as he did it, which is always nice. He then crossed it through my boobies, knotted it about half way down my back and then tied my hands to it. Colin I should mention here that he does NOT tie my elbows together because he has a genuine fear of being murdered...by ME, and so he should!
He then bought the rope around and tied it again at my waist. Of course by now I can already feel the restriction and I start to get a bit playful, it's about then that he gags me. A thick clean cloth today, followed by a nice silk scarf to hold it all in. I look at him all wide eyed as if to say "why did you do that?" and he fluffs my hair and gives me a little kiss on the gag and I look at him sulkily. He loves that! Yes he does Colin.
I'm not big on sulking, although I have been known to throw the odd one or two in the past, but I do it for him 'cos he loves the look on my face. So I give him my very best Ashley Renee Impression and it's weird because the more I do it the more I feel myself getting into character as it were. "Tonight Matthew, I'm going to be Ashley Renee" and do you know Colin, sometimes I feel like I am. Steady on old girl.
He loves it! I can see it in his face! He actually prefers me to have my knickers on rather than off for this, as he says naked is too overtly sexual. I'm tied up and gagged, with rope around my bare tits for God's sake and he's worrying about me being too sexual ....I worry sometimes Colin.
Anyway he likes to see me standing there looking all sulky and he holds me and fluffs my hair again and strokes my neck and shoulders. That fluffing, I tell you Colin, if he did that too me when I wasn't tied up, HE WOULD DIE! But he doesn't and I AM tied up and much to my shame and embarrassment sometimes, I push up against him and make little mewing sounds through my gag like a neurotic cat because I want more, and this could go on for over an hour, normally in the dark, apart from a few candles, and I LOVE IT!
During the course of this I normally manage to turn around and look at him and he is SMILING and he looks so calm and peaceful and happy and fulfilled that I could cry sometimes. We're both simple souls deep down, I think!
Why did I emphasise smiling there Colin? Well you've seen him; you must know what I mean. Here is a man, Colin, for whom the word lugubrious was invented. Here is a man on whom the bulldog's face was modeled. If you saw him in the street you would think that even to mention the word smile to him would cause his face to crack into a thousand pieces. In short he makes grumpy in Snow White look like a Born Again Christian.
Grumpy, crotchety, testy, peevish, irritable...
That's his outer shell, his protection.... and his shield...
He eventually finished my harness with a KNOTTED CROTCH ROPE - BASTARD! Which he then pulled (gently) between my legs and the crack of my backside DOUBLE BASTARD! As you are not possessed of a backside Colin you would not know how sensitive and tickly that particular area is. Nor would you be aware of the sensations you experience when gentle hands are very carefully threading a fairly thick piece of nylon rope between your legs and through the cheeks of your bottom in order to tie the rope snugly, not tightly or loosely, but snugly, to the rope that he has already tied around your waist...
It tickles a little at first and then you feel his hands against your pubic hair and you give a little sigh and a gasp as you feel the knots start to press against your clitoris and then a little wave of pleasure rolls up your body as the rope pushes up against your lips and then enters them.
What you can never anticipate is the feeling as he takes the rope between your legs and then between your cheeks and you feel his hands and then you feel the incredibly ticklish sensation of those hands against an area that only YOUR hands would normally touch and the fact that THEY are tied behind your back makes you feel incredibly vulnerable and there's a rush and I must admit that right then I could just fall on my knees - it just makes me want to surrender totally Colin, but then the shudders start.
They start at the base of my spine and spread out to the whole of my body and then I start to tingle all over and I have to hold back sometimes. On one occasion I didn't quite make it and I climaxed then and there. He realized what was happening and held me against him and kissed my neck and shoulders and made soothing noises until I stopped trembling...
Did you notice that I managed to refer to my bottom on several occasions without once calling it MY ARSE!
Anyway, body done, he then tied my ankles together and literally wound rope around and around my legs until it reached my crotch and then he continued to wrap around my pelvis and hips until he reached the waist rope and tied the ends there. Oh and just for good measure, he tied my big toes together with some thinner white rope that just happened to be hanging about with nothing to do and then he very gently helped me to sit on the bed and then laid me flat out on it and do you know Colin there was BUGGER ALL that I could do about it.
I lay there with rope encompassing my body, held rigid, unable to move, unable to speak, and in total ecstasy!
This is option time and I normally have several. Lying on bound hands can be uncomfortable but I don't like to let myself off too lightly - it has to be a challenge. If I can't move my body then my thoughts start to go elsewhere and I start to drift off. Obviously if you're very uncomfortable this makes drifting more difficult, so I can opt to have my hands and arms rebound at my sides or have them tied forearm to forearm.
If he ties them at my sides it's very comfortable but not so restricting so he will then tape my fingers and thumbs up so that I can't use my hands at all. Next option is; do I want him to stay or go? Sometimes I DO just want to be on my own as if I had tied myself up (but without the inherent dangers) and having first had a good old wallow in my helplessness, I then try to make a reasonable fist of getting myself undone!
I mentioned the baby monitor didn't I and of course we don't have a baby! (Sad truth is I don't think we're likely to either)
This is connected to a master unit in the front room, which is where he lurks when he leaves me suitably blindfolded and hooded to play on my own. I like hoods. I have several rubber ones and a leather discipline helmet, which can really do a job for me if you know what I mean, but I have to be in the mood AND he will not leave me alone with this on - spoilsport!
So he uses a very stretchy very comfortable spandex hood on me. Think slippery Lycra Colin and you're there and over this he ties another silk scarf as a blindfold and then I'm totally tied, naked. Vulnerable, sightless and speechless, I think he would argue about the speechlessness 'cos I can still tell him to piss off in gag and a lot more besides!
Little touches when I'm like this are magnified a hundred fold. A warm hand on my tummy. A gentle stroke to my thigh or a brush against my bare toes. I don't react outwardly any more. I've learned to accept it and feel it inwardly. I just lay there and let the feelings wash over me and eventually Colin, I reach a state of enormous inner peace, because I trust him completely and where some people might panic I just go deeper and deeper as I feel his hands so gently touching the non sexual but still very sensitive areas of my body.
Now he of course would argue that and say that as far as he knows there ARE no non-sexual areas of my body, but he can just go and play with himself on that one!
Now I say that I opt for solitude, but I KNOW that he doesn't leave me for long, despite what he says. I KNOW when he is in the room. I can sense him, I can feel him, and I can SMELL him. Yes I can Colin, I really can.
Smell is very important. For two people to be compatible they must smell right to each other. I've been with people who have smelt too sour or too sweet or have just smelt of nothing and I am not referring to bodily hygiene. Everybody has a smell Colin and his smell I like. I like a lot!
Oh we've digressed again haven't we? I know, I know. And I REALLY want to tell you about this Dream but I'm very naughty in it Colin very very naughty and It worried me because although I've always accepted myself as being a bit, well, odd, this dream elevated me to heights of oddness that even I thought it was not possible to achieve. I mean I do things that I never even suspected that I could be capable of.
For the first time in my life I really did something that totally shocked me - even if it wasn't real.
Let me just finish off the other thing, mmm. If I opt for him to stay then he doesn't blindfold me and he will just leave me on the bed to simmer having first asked me if I'm alright (yawn) and given me another little kiss on the gag.
That's when he gets the fucking paper.
Now the truth is, between me and you Colin, that this paper is only a device to protect his, well is it his modesty? No, no, it's not his modesty. It's just that he doesn't want to be thought of as a voyeur. The paper gives him something to do whilst he watches me struggle about in my rope wraps, mmm try saying that fast 10 times. He really likes the sight of me bare(ish) and roped and gagged. He's told me that, well I teased it out of him but that is definitely another story!
So he reads the paper! Oh no he bloody doesn't. He TRIES to read the paper Colin but he seldom succeeds because he either gets it repeatedly kicked or he gets a pair of cheesy feet in his face or....
Yes Colin I've got to admit that I can be quite horrible to him sometimes. You see for some reason and it doesn't matter whether I wear tights or stockings (he wishes) or socks or pop socks (yeurgh) or nothing at all for that matter, there is something about shoes, even mules or sandals that have a catalytic effect on my feet. In other words they make them SMELL Colin, they make them smell in such a manner that even the most elegant of evening footwear has to be dosed with anti odour spray and left to cool their heels... (Ooh I think that's quite clever, I'll do it again!)
Yes Colin even the nicest shoes have to be left outside on the balcony for a period of time to "cool their heels" after I have worn them.
And my feet! My feet Colin. I like my feet, unlike a lot of women and I look after them. There are no corns, very little hard skin, no bent or deformed toes, just a pleasant everyday pair of size 6's that don't do anybody any harm... until they've had shoes attached to them that is and then... and then...
Think of a bad smell Colin. A cheese shop in the middle of summer before chilled display units were common, the smell of a room that's had a half eaten pizza left in it all night, cats pee, sewers, a particularly redolent fart and then add something extra to it and you've got my feet after a hard day and if I am feeling particularly mean Colin I will not shower but simply give my whole body a thorough washing down before we have an evening together but Colin and a big but it is I DO NOT wash my feet!
Hah. That's another reason I don't want to be blindfolded if he stays with me, because I love to see the look of surprise, dismay and even horror that he effects just after I have, with a superhuman effort sometimes, wiggled my way across the bed to finally get rid of that bloody newssheet once and for all and then stick my smelly, cheesy feet right in his face and then rub them all over it and then stick them under his nose.
I just love watching him trying to get away especially as I'm the one who's tied up and I've got him trapped in the chair by a pair of untamable feet! Needless to say the exertion, not to mention the crotch rope, tends to get the adrenaline going. And it isn't unknown for me to start to shiver and tremble, particularly if I have succeeded in getting a toe up his nose!
I don't always do it of course, depends on my frame of mind. Say nothing Colin; say nothing and you will be spared the pulling of your plug from the wall socket.
Sometimes I just want a cuddle and a hug and with great deal of effort I will actually get up off the bed and sort of bunny hop over to him and plonk myself in his lap and say, "Hello darling give me a cuddle", through my gag. Although it normally ends up "ello arling iv ge a uddle!"
Well this night was different. I was in a funny teasing sort of mood. I'd had a baddish day at work and who better to take it out on! I couldn't have been that bad though because I HAD showered. Now I had taken very good care of my feet that night. I had washed them and dried them and used a nice avocado and jojoba rub on them before painting my nails a nice strawberry red and then rubbing some pleasant soothing peppermint oil into them.
I was naked, lying on the bed wrapped in orange rope from head to toe and my arms were at my sides, my hands and fingers wrapped in tape. I was gagged but not blindfolded and my big toes were tied together...not for long they weren't...
Escapologists expand their muscles when they are being tied up; they hold them rigid Colin because when they let go and the muscles relax the ropes slacken. If he's only using a couple of turns around my toes then I hold them in a slightly awkward position whilst he's tying them. (Obviously not too awkward or he would notice, but I can normally distract him in some way, like wobbling my tits or wriggling my arse. Well if you've got it flaunt it! Though I think he's starting to get wise to all that, I've noticed a little knowing grin appearing recently that I haven't noticed before and I've also noticed him having a little clandestine sniff around the foot area when he thinks I'm not looking!)
When he's finished I just move my toes back into their normal position and I feel the ropes slacken immediately. This means I can rub them together at my convenience and get them untied if I want to. (I like it, but it can be annoying after a while. It also gives me more freedom of movement, as you will see dear Colin.)
So I was done Colin. Well and truly. Like the proverbial Christmas Goose! Except that I wasn't going to be stuffed! HUH! Nor was I going to be roasted, but I WAS going to have to watch him read that FUCKING paper. Oh no I wasn't Colin, I had other plans. It wasn't MY goose that was going to get cooked tonight Boyo!
I was lying there all quiet and meditative. Looking for all the world like I was having a little simmer and he was farting about getting his paper, adjusting the candles so he had enough light to read by, cleaning his glasses, oh, it goes on and on and on Colin believe me.
Anyway, while he was doing this I managed to work the toe ropes off and kick them on the floor by the bed where he wouldn't (hopefully) notice and I'd also managed to slide like a snake inch by careful inch along the bed so that I was very close indeed to his chair.
When he eventually did sit down I pulled my legs back so that he didn't notice how close I was. These are not formal occasions Colin as I am sure you have gathered. It isn't like the BBC where the Radio Newsreaders had to wear dinner jackets to read the news. Though I did think of having a Tuxedo and a bow tie body painted on once, just for a laugh, might still do it actually...carnation in my lapel. Should be just upwards of my left tit....ummmm.
Oh shit why did I mention bloody tits? They'd gone quiet for nearly an hour. If tits can go quiet... Oh and all the aches and pains and sore arses and sore backs and tired knees and soggy shoulders and stiff necks not to mention bruised foreheads and broken noses have all come flooding back. I was absorbed. I was concentrating on my piece to camera as it were.
God, please do not ever allow a camera to see me like this. Thank you.
Anyway I don't dress up, I don't even dress down, I just don't, er, dress at all and he certainly doesn't. So on this fateful evening Colin he was wearing baggy shorts and a tee shirt, no, not exactly the sartorial icon I will admit, but it suited my somewhat devious purposes!
In he finally trots paper and cup of tea in hand, didn't even ask if I wanted one! Well the fact that I was not in any position to drink a hot cup of tea is not the point Colin. He could have asked out of COURTESY, it's polite, it's considerate, even if your partner is currently wriggling her puss against her crotch rope and looking like she is just about to go that extra mile. IT'S STILL NICE TO ASK!
Of course you know what would have happened if he had asked don't you? Of course you do Colin. You are absolutely correct. You are a thoughtful, kind and subtle individual who knows well the ways of women.
Yes, he COULD have asked me if I wanted a cup of tea and I would have replied, through my gag of course, "What do you think I'm doing down here, having a FUCKING tea party? Why don't you bring me a FUCKING SCONE while you're at it as well?!"
The trouble is, that he probably would have done!
It is my right as a woman to behave in this fashion Colin and I reserve it, er, unreservedly.
Back to plot I think. He's enchaired himself, got comfortable, given me a quick perusal to make sure I haven't gone off or anything and then upped paper, having first had a delicate sip from his mug. It's the one I bought him that says "DON'T BE AN ARSEHOLE, HAVE A CUP OF TEA INSTEAD". Well I thought it was funny at the time.
And then I wait poised Colin, like a Cobra ready to strike!
And I wait and I watch and I try to ignore what is going on down at substation Puss but that is another matter. He thinks I am helpless Colin, he thinks I'm flat on my back being transported from one orgasmic crescendo to another.
But I'm not Colin. Oh no, I'm not, but he thinks I am, because every now and then I let out a little low moan to lull him into a false sense of security because tonight, yes, tonight, that paper is going to go once and for all and it is going to be replaced by something much more absorbing and interesting...that's right...ME!... ME ME ME ME ME ME ME AND BLOODY ME!
He's been reading for a couple of minutes, oh some shit about the World Economy, I can't remember, and it's time to pounce. But I have to be careful because I only have one chance at this, but I've been practicing for a while now.
As quietly and carefully as I can I draw my legs up and back as far as I can from the hip and then I check range and levels using my big toes as a viewfinder. Make a couple of last minute adjustments. Then lock, load and FIRE!
Looks good, looks good, have to be careful though don't want any collateral damage. Like the tea going over and scalding his nuts or something. No, aim looks good! Square on target! We have a CLEAN HIT control, 100% success!Yeehaa!
And what am I looking at?
I am looking at a somewhat dazed looking man who is no longer holding a paper. His arms are outstretched and in each hand he holds a small SCRAP of what used to be, the fearless, frank, free and liberal Guardian. The remainder of which is now floating gently to the floor having been kicked very precisely, very cleanly, one might almost say surgically, from his hands and where the paper previously covered his face he is now aware that something else is about to do that for him. That something else being my FEET, which even as we speak are beginning to slowly stroke and caress his face.
That's why I wanted my toes untied, because now, very slowly and gently, I can just insinuate one between his lips and whilst I smooth his cheek with one foot, he will recover from his surprise, not to mention shock, and being the kind dutiful lover that he is HE WILL BEGIN TO SUCK MY BIG TOE, which feels so soothing and so wet and slippery and so outrageously dirty, that little puss, who's been on standby for a while, decides to come online at just the right time. Yowza!
But it's not his mouth I want tonight.
No, tonight I've got bigger fish to fry and to reach them I have to go further south. A lot further south. So I gently withdraw my toe and as best I can, I trace the wet and slippery digit down his nose and watch with a little grin, that he can't see remember, (because it's hidden more or less by the gag), as I draw my feet gently, so gently down to his chin and then under it and then take them slowly down the front of his tee-shirt. He follows the toes down with his eyes, down, down to the front of his shorts where I let them rest awhile, cosying up to their contents. The look on his face is so comical as I keep them there, just lightly touching him, just gently wiggling my toes against the little package that I can feel there. I don't think it's going to be a little package for long. Not if I have my way that is.
I move them again Colin. This time I rub and stroke my way down his left thigh until I am free of the material and I can start to push my soft little feet UP the left leg of his shorts and now he knows what I'm up to and exactly where I am going! Well, I knew all along of course.
It's not the Holy Grail that I'm after, or the lost city of Atlantis, or even the Meaning of Life. What I'm looking for is much simpler than that, though sometimes just as elusive Colin, because tonight, I am on a selfless quest for his COCK!
And I do not intend to fail!
His cock! Well what else do you call it? His dick, his prick, his prickdick? Hmmm, no sounds like something you stick paper with. Penis, shaft, love pole, uh? Love pole? Oh no, thank you.
No sorry, it's a cock! And it's a very user-friendly cock as it happens. Actually, as cocks go and I have seen a few, A FEW COLIN, just a few. Well as cocks go, it's quite a sweet looking little thing really. Nothing special about it. Not over big, but not teeny tiny either, average build, average height, no distinguishing marks, well perhaps a bit of lip gloss sometimes, (!), IC 1 male (Well it's hardly likely to be female is it?). Doesn't do very much, just sits in his lap waiting to be played with as a rule, bit like the cats really and it does what it's told and it behaves itself like them as well!
What's that Colin? Does it get plenty of milk and cream like the cats? Well, I milk it regularly and I get plenty of cream out of it. What more can I say?
Furthermore it doesn't try to stick itself in me when I don't want it to AND it responds to basic commands like "FUCK OFF!" or "it's closed" or "I've got a headache".
I bet he wishes I did suffer from headaches sometimes.
Now you might think Colin, being as you are a relative newcomer to this sort of thing, that it is not the cock that is responsible for these things, but the owner...
Take it from me. They have a life and a mind of their own and in most cases if a cock decides that it wants to do something there is absolutely nothing that your basic man can do about it.
Or WANTS to do about it apparently.
But that is not the case here Colin, because his is a friendly little chap
who means nobody any harm. Well it does spit at me from time to time but
that's normally because I've been annoying it!
Best part of all? It's mine Colin. All mine and nobody else can have it. Oh apart from him of course. On a temporary, on loan basis.
To play with and stroke and tickle and lick and caress and TALK TO, if I feel like it. Of course those occasions are very private, for obvious reasons. Like people might think I was not entirely all there! I am of course Colin. Colin keep up now. Alright sometimes even the cats look a bit mystified if they wander in and I'm on the floor on my knees holding it like a microphone and having a little chat, but you can't keep them in the kitchen ALL the time!
Does all this make me sound like an old tart Colin? A demented old tart even? Linda says I behave like one some times and she should know I suppose. Might have to revise that later.
A WANTON OLD TART! Sounds all right to me!
So now both of my feet are gliding sexily up his thigh with one intent and he is now looking at me and I am looking at him and our eyes do not stir.
As I get closer and closer to my prize, as I start to pull at the material with dexterous toes, he's looking at me the way a fly would a spider. Except I'm the one whose caught up in a web, not him!
This is a power exchange Colin. I'm the one tied up and helpless, well almost, and he's the one who should be in charge! But he's not Colin, not tonight. I can't talk, but he says nothing either. We just look at each other. There is probably more being said in those looks than we could actually say in words anyway and I'm now in a position to start to pull at those shorts with insistent little tugs of my feet and of course, as I'm doing that, I have to wiggle my hips and the wiggling of the hips causes the crotch rope to slide pleasantly against my increasingly wet little box of tricks and I now start to moan and groan a little. Some of that is from exertion, but not too much.
I don't know how long we have been staring at each other but a particularly pleasant spasm downstairs makes me blink and at the same time I can feel give in his shorts and with one quick movement, before he adjusts his bottom again, I nip at them with my toes and pull as best I can and with a grunt from me and a little surprised yowl from him, I pull and I keep on pulling like an angler playing a fish. Only it's not a fish I'm after and he gives in and lifts a little and the next thing I know, is that attached to my toes are HIS SHORTS and I give a little yell of triumph. A bit muffled but recognizable nonetheless and then toss them, (as best you can toss with your toes), as far away as possible and before he can do anything about it he suddenly has a warm, soft, pair of feet gently stroking his private parts!
He's looking at me again, in disbelief now and he's torn between watching me and looking to see what's happening down below. He knows what's going on of course because he can feel my tied up feet gently stroking him, he can feel my toes running up and down the length of him and I can feel it too, all soft and very vulnerable.
I move gently up and down. Little teases with my toes from base to tip. Then the soft instep very, very, gently rubbing up and down, softly, lightly. Believe it or believe it not Colin, this thing is quite precious to me, like it's owner and though (I have been told) I have a tendency to treat the owner with a certain contempt from time to time, I would never ever do that to his Prize Possession. Oh well, that's his collection of early Genesis CDs. So I'm all right there then!
Slowly and gently, slowly and gently and I can begin to feel growth and also his pelvis beginning to move against me. He can't believe I'm doing this and I can't believe it either. I'm tingling everywhere, so surprised that I can do it and do it so carefully and sensitively that I am producing a reaction.
Knowing him, he's probably wondering at the back of his mind if he can catch anything from this, like Athlete's Cock or something.
It feels warm against my feet, so strange I have to flex them. I want to try and hold the whole length between them and I do and I can actually feel it moving against me. I tease my toes around the tip. I can actually pull the skin back providing I am careful and gentle.
Our eyes are locked together again. I'm tied up yet I can do this .I'm not in charge now but neither is he. He could stop this at any time but he doesn't, he's utterly mesmerized by the strangeness of it all and then I move. I move down to stroke the underside, to let one of my toes dally underneath and stroke around his balls and then I hear a sharp intake of breath.
Roughly the same area that makes me go weak when he touches me there, has exactly the same effect on him and I can see from his face that he cannot take these strange sensations much longer and neither can I and I put my feet together and slide against him up and down and up and down and his eyes are no longer looking at me, they're closed because he simply cannot keep this going much longer and I am straining against my ropes and my puss is wet and slippery and my pelvis is humping against the crotch rope and he is breathing raggedly and making little gasping noises and so am I, through my gag, and I know what THAT does for him at the best of times!
I close my eyes for a second as I feel a little ebb tide of shivery pleasure flow through me and then I feel something else! I feel gentle hands on my feet! He is stroking them gently and guiding them against him.
It feels so comforting!
His big warm hands stroking them, rubbing my heels, my insteps, my toes! We are moving gently against each other, he guiding me, showing me what he wants, pushing against me holding, stroking and my eyes close again and I lay there in my cocoon of ropes, relaxed and just enjoying this strange feeling
I can't hold back much longer and with one final effort I slide my toes down to the base of his cock, pulling the skin back as far as it will go and I put my feet together again hold them there for a second and then begin to slide them backwards and forwards as gently as I can and then back again and then forward until he can't hold it any more and he gives a little gasp and a moan and his eyes close and I feel something I have never felt before.
Warm spunk between my toes!
And it is so dirty, so absolutely filthy and this stuff fells so warm and so strange and the very thought that I have just made him climax and cover my feet with his cum makes me explode!
And then he's on me holding me, kissing me and stroking my face and he
knows this isn't the end for me and I feel his fingers slide into Mount Puss
and they're so gentle and so delicious and so warm after the crotch rope
and my feet are still wet but beginning to cool rapidly but the strangeness
is still there and I moan and I moan and it 's like a chain reaction and I
can't stop, I can't stop. Oh no, I really can't stop Colin. I really can't.
It's pushed me; it's really pushed me. I'm going Colin, I'm going, I'm gushing,
my back's on fire, all my nerves are twitching I really cannot hold this
any longer Colin, you gorgeous creature, I'm just going to pant and moan
and wiggle my tits and put my finger on one key and go AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Phew! It's about 5 minutes later and I finally did it. Well, you did it really Colin and you were sooo good!
How was it for you Colin?
I mean it was great for me it really was, but I don't want you getting serious now. It was a first date after all and well, I don't normally do that sort of thing with people I hardly know and I didn't even tell you about the dream ...but now we've, well slept together to be polite, I probably won't be so embarrassed about telling you. If I can coordinate my limbs sufficiently that is.
Is an orgasm recognized as a cure for headaches and tit aches and what
OH I feel quite relaxed now and ready to tell you....SHIT ! That noise .I think it's the key. I think someone's coming in. It must be Bill. I hope its bloody Bill!
What's the time? 5.30. Oh shit! Yes it is him. I can hear his voice. Why can I hear his voice?
Because he's got people with him!
OH MY GOD AM I STUFFED!
I'm bloody, I'm bruised, I'm tied up and gagged, my hair probably looks
like it's been nested in by a flock of alcoholic seagulls, I've just orgasmed
my arse off and he's going to bring a party of people in to see me for a
cup of tea and a chat!
He's going to bring them in here to seem the AMAZING TIED UP WOMAN. Roll up, rollup. Please take pictures of this Ladies and gentlemen and show them to your children as a grim reminder of what could happen to them in the future!
No he won't. Kitchen door, kitchen door. Pussies locked in kitchen means Pussy being played with in bedroom! Remember. Remember. Don't go forgetful on me now..
Those voices. Those bloody voices, its Linda.... AND... Sarah!
Why Linda? Why Sarah? Why? Why? OH PLEASE NO... PLEASE NO, NOT THAT!
SHE'S TOLD HIM!
SHE'S TOLD HIM! SHE'S TOLD HIM! SHE'S BLOODY GONE AND TOLD HIM!
........... That's the only reason for this, THE ONLY BLOODY REASON. He knows, he bloody knows. Kitchen. They've gone in the kitchen. No they haven't. They've looked and they've moved away. OH HOLY SHIT! They're coming in here. There's only one thing I can do Colin and that's to turn you
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