When the phone rang, I certainly wasn't expecting it to be Stephanie. She said she had a problem, could I please come over to help her? I asked if she was alright, thinking it was some sort of emergency. She laughed and said everything was fine, that she just needed my help with something. Puzzled, I told her I was on the way. We both lived in the same apartment complex, but in different buildings. I put my shoes on and headed for her apartment across the parking lot. It was a cool, windy day with the threat of rain hanging in the air. I arrived at Stephanie's apartment in relatively no time and knocked on the door.
Stephanie was an attractive gal with a great figure and a matching personality. I had always envied her husband and enjoyed any chance to talk with her. She was bright and inquisitive, the kind that made conversation fun. One day over a cup of coffee at the local Starbuck's while discussing hobbies, I told her that I wrote erotic fiction. Her eyes got really big and she acted shocked, but she asked about what type of erotic fiction, so I told her my primary interest centered on bondage sex. She blushed and told me she had always been interested in bondage, but didn't know anyone she could either trust or who was similarly interested. My pulse raced and my cock thickened at the thought of tying her up, but I managed to keep a lid on it while we talked. She was interested in the very core of my writings, so I told her I would e-mail her some for her enjoyment and critique. As soon as she read them, she e-mailed me her reactions and praised my work. She said she was so aroused by them that she had to stop "to take care of something". She said she wished Bob, her husband, would do the things to her that happened to the girls in my stories.
Stephanie answered the door wearing a bathrobe and motioned me in. Closing the door behind me, she pulled the robe around her tighter and blushed.
"What can I do for you?" I asked, wondering what this was all about.
She paused for a moment as if she was searching for a way to tell me something. Wordlessly, she handed me a note that she had written and waited for me to finish reading it before speaking. This is what the note said:
"It's about time you got home! I've been waiting for you. I've always wanted to surprise you by being tied up when you got home, so I asked Bruce to tie me just for you. I've been so horny just thinking about it that I just couldn't wait any longer. I've been imagining what it would be like for you to tease me, play with my nipples, tongue my clit, whatever, while I can't do anything to stop you. Don't untie me until you've fucked me, no matter how hard I struggle or try to tell you to stop. So please do all the things you know I like; let your devilish tongue tease and massage my throbbing swollen clit, then fuck me hard and make me cum before you untie me. I love you."
Wordlessly, I looked at her in stunned amazement.
"Its really all your fault," she said, "You know I've always been interested in doing this and your stories not only brought it all out, but they showed me you knew exactly how to do this and you're someone I could trust."
I swallowed hard, not really believing my senses.
"Bob will be home by 5:30. It's a little after 4:30 now, so does that give you enough time to tie me up before he gets here? I really want to surprise him by doing this."
Rather numbly, I nodded and then I began to gather my senses.
"First of all, where do you want me to tie you?"
"On the bed," she answered, dropping her robe and walking off towards their bedroom.
She was wearing only a black satin bra, panty and garter outfit. Her figure was highlighted by the skimpy material and she looked fabulous.
While trying to calm myself, she sat down on the bed and put on 3-inch heels that strap around the ankles. Standing up, her legs looked sleek and muscular; the kind of look only heels can give a woman.
"Good thing I don't have to walk around in these," she laughed, "I'm too uncoordinated not to fall. I bought rope for you to use, it's in the drawer here."
Pulling open a drawer in her nightstand, she picked up several wraps of nylon-braided rope, exactly the kind I describe in my stories. Holding a ball-gag in her hand, she said she bought this from an on-line vendor.
"I'm too chicken to buy one of these in public," she said. "I also have tape, the kind you used in your story about the woman who was tied up by her boyfriend while he was on lunch-break," referring to one of my earliest works.