Reunited | burglar, tied, bikini, rope | free bondage stories

Marsha was delighted when she got the call from Pauline, an old college friend. It had been years since they'd seen each other, but they'd kept in touch with letters and phone calls. Now she was in town on a business trip. Pauline drove out to the house Friday evening, after her last meeting, and they stayed up late, talking and drinking and checking each other out.

Pauline, a blonde, now had a short severe cut that made Marsha think of badgers. The muscles in her arms suggested free weights, and her personality was buff too. Pauline had worked her way up to regional advertising manager for a chain of city business magazines. Career-wise, this put her way ahead of Marsha, who was still a secretary, even if they called it "associate" now. Marsha didn't consider herself a failure, but Pauline's bragging began to grate after a while. Marsha consoled herself with the thought that she had bigger breasts, and owned an actual house, on a big lot, not just a condo.

Still, she went to bed with a slightly sour taste in her mouth.

Saturday morning they dragged themselves to the kitchen, and sat around in their sleeping outfits, just like back in the Alpha days. Marsha was wearing a Hard Rock Cafe T-shirt; Pauline looked hot in a lemon camisole and matching bikini panties.

Over coffee and bagels, Marsha scanned the newspaper. "He did it again," she said.

"Who? What?" Pauline asked.

"A burglar has been breaking into homes."

"Isn't that what burglars do?"

"This one's different. He targets single women living alone. He ties them up and robs the house. The newspapers call him the Bondage Burglar."

"I thought nothing ever happened here."

"Well, once in a while someone shows some initiative."

"Tied up by a burglar," Pauline mused. "You're a single woman living alone. What would you do if he showed up here?"

"Escape, of course."

"Do you think you could?"

"I don't know. Remember the initiation?"

They giggled, remembering how as pledges they were "kidnapped" by the older Alphas and hauled to a secret location for their initiation. Marsha and Pauline had been loaded in the back of a van, arms tied behind their backs, hoods over their heads. "That was different. We knew we weren't supposed to escape."

Pauline sipped her coffee and eyed her nonchalantly. "Maybe we should practice escaping. Just in case the Bondage Burglar drops by."

"You mean tie each other up?"

"Beauty of Merciless Domination - Realless FemDom Art"

"Why not? It's Saturday. Unless you'd rather watch cartoons?"

That was vintage Pauline, all right. A little kinky, very unpredictable, but always exciting. Marsha nibbled a bagel and pretended to think it over, but realized she'd already slid back into the comfortable role of follower. Why did being around Pauline make her passive?

They flipped a coin. Marsha won the first tie.

"Let's see," she said, thinking out loud. "If I were a burglar, I'd want you out of the way while I'm ransacking the house. Let's go upstairs."

Giggling, they proceeded to the master bedroom. Marsha opened her closet. "I suppose he just grabs whatever's lying around." She selected some scarves and belts. "Lie down on the bed," she commanded. "Face down." Pauline plopped down on the bed, and crossed her wrists behind her back.

"How'd you know what I was going to say?" Marsha asked, as she tied Pauline's wrists with a scarf.

"Seemed like the obvious thing," Pauline said calmly. Marsha bound her wrists securely, then tied her elbows as close as she could, and then ran a third scarf around her waist to anchor the arms.

"So you think I'm predictable, huh? We'll see about that. Roll over."

When Pauline was face up, Marsha pulled her left ankle to her left thigh, and strapped it in place with a wide red belt. She pulled the belt so tight, it sank into the flesh and couldn't slip off. Then she used a blue belt to secure the right ankle in the same way. Pauline let her legs fall open, exposing the yellow bikini panties under her camisole. "I like the feel of leather," Pauline said, testing her bonds. She closed her knees, then let her legs flop open again. "Convenient position. Ever do this with someone?"

"Maybe," Marsha said, ashamed to admit how conventional her lovemaking was. She selected a scarf. "I'm tired of having my technique critiqued. Open wide." Pauline obediently opened her mouth, and Marsha gagged her. Then she stepped back to admire her handiwork. The short blonde squirmed helplessly.

The sight reminded Marsha of TV shows she watched as a kid. She used to enjoy the episodes where Dale Evans and Lois Lane and April Chambers were tied up by the bad guys. Now she had her own personal adventure playing right here in her bedroom. She fetched her coffee and sat down to enjoy the show. It was even better when the woman was dressed like a Victoria's Secret model, she realized. Marsha found herself thinking up other ways to bind her friend. Sitting in a chair? Tied to a pole in the basement? Maybe if she kept Pauline bound and gagged in a closet all day she wouldn't be so snooty about all the big deals she was closing.

To her dismay, Pauline quickly escaped. By wiggling and contorting she managed to get her fingers on the belts and unbuckle them. This enabled her to stand. Once she was mobile, she went to Marsha's dresser, found a pair of nail scissors, and cut through the scarves. Finally she removed her gag, and twirled it theatrically.

"Ta dah!"

"You cheated!"

"Like hell. If you were the burglar I'd be on the phone to the cops before you finished finding the safe."

"I guess," Marsha conceded. "Well, my turn."

Pauline dismissed the scarves contemptuously. "Get me some rope. And an Ace bandage."

Marsha got what she requested. She had clothesline in the basement, of course, and a wide Ace bandage in the bathroom. Pauline took her back to the living room, and told her to lie on the coffee table, face up.

Marsha obeyed, letting her feet touch the floor, putting her arms over her head. She glanced at the picture window. The coffee table was low, and the top of the couch blocked the line of sight from the sidewalk, but all that glass made her feel on display.

"It is a bit risky," Pauline grinned, as if reading her mind. "I think that'll add to the excitement!"

"Fortunately the mailman doesn't come until 2 or 3."

"What makes you think you'll be free by then?"

"Just watch," Marsha blustered. But her confidence began to fade as Pauline systematically tied her wrists and ankles to the table legs in a spread-eagle position. She couldn't see the knots, but whatever Pauline was doing the result was immobility.

Marsha felt as if Comanches were staking her out on the prairie. She gazed at the chandelier overhead, embarrassed by the spiderwebs and dust, and made a mental note to speak to the cleaning woman.

Pauline stood back, hands on hips, and studied her captive. Marsha blushed. Her T-shirt had slid up over her navel, exposing her Lady Jockey white cotton panties, and her legs were wide open. Not a ladylike pose! Being looked at in this position gave her a strange tingle. Now she was the Girl from UNCLE, captured by an enemy agent and helpless to resist. Despite the fact that the person tying her up was an old girlfriend, the situation was erotic. Her nipples hardened and poked through the thin T-shirt.

Pauline walked around the table, ostensibly checking the knots, but Marsha knew she was savoring having the upper hand. I wouldn't want to be negotiating a contract against this woman, she thought. Helpless, she awaited the next level.

Satisfied with the rope work, Pauline knelt at her side. "Now for that noisy mouth." She produced a white wash cloth.

"What are you going to do?" Marsha asked, heart beating faster.

"The way you gagged me was useless. It was the kind of phony prop gag you see on TV. An effective gag has two parts. The wadding, like this wash cloth, and what holds it in."

"Sounds like you've had some experience," Marsha said.

"Experience," Pauline mused. She traced Marsha's lips with a finger. "Maybe I've spent an entire weekend tied up while a lover works me over. Tied up, gagged, blindfolded... Not knowing what comes next... Does that sound like fun?"

Marsha's mouth tingled at her touch. "Was it anyone I know?"

"You're stalling. Open."

Marsha obeyed. Pauline carefully packed her mouth with the rag, and wound the Ace bandage around her head. She tied it at the side, then brushed Marsha's red curls out of her face. She had a strange smile on her face as she played with her hair.

"That's better. Much more effective than that silly scarf you used. Now, let's test your gag. I don't want a neighbor to hear you screaming and come running to the rescue."

Marsha's raised her eyebrows. Test? Scream?

With a cryptic smile, the blonde slowly lifted Marsha's T-shirt and exposed her breasts. Reflexively, Marsha struggled and squirmed, but the ropes were inexorable. "You have great boobs," Pauline cooed. "I've always envied your boobs. In fact, I just can't keep my hands off!" She pinched both nipples and rolled them between her fingers.

"Mmmmm!"

"What's that? I can't hear you." She squeezed harder.

"MMMMMMM!"

"See? Now that's a gag. I can do anything I want without worrying about the neighbors hearing."

"mmM?"

"What am I going to do? Oh, I don't know. Maybe this."

Kneeling at Marsha's side, expression blissful, she began to knead and squeeze and caress the big boobs. She was really good. Much more skillful than a man. She seemed to be doing it because she enjoyed it, not because she was expected to. Wow. She ran her palms over the erect nipples, gently stimulating them. The wonderful sensations went on and on. Pauline played with her breasts until Marsha thought they were going to vaporize.

She wasn't surprised when Pauline slid one hand down to Marsha's panties and began to stroke her through the thin cotton. "I thought about making a move last night, when you were drunk, but I was too tired," Pauline said. "Now we're fresh, and we have the whole day ahead of us."

"NnN!" Marsha shook her head.

"Oh? Don't you want to play?"

"NNnn. NNnn."

"Really?" Pauline said. "I think you're lying. I think you're really turned on. Let's check." She slid her hand into Marsha's white panties, and gently caressed her slit. "Wet. Just as I suspected." Her fingers slid back and forth, softly kneading the folds of her labia, gradually sliding inside. Marsha was embarrassed how lubricated she was. She tried to lie still, to avoid encouraging her, but she was so horny she couldn't help thrusting her pelvis up, making Pauline's fingers probe deeper…

"MMM! MMM!"

Pauline gave her a final caress and withdrew her hand. "As much as I want to have sex with you, I'm not a rapist. Tell you what. I'll leave you tied up, and you think about it while I go make some more coffee. If you want to play, we'll play. If you don't, I'll untie you and we'll go back to being old college friends. Fair enough?"

Marsha nodded.

"But I do hope you want to play. We could have so much fun." Pauline licked and sucked a nipple and made it hard. Marsha moaned. It was like electricity in her chest. That mouth! She was on the verge of coming just from having her breast played with! Then Pauline winked and flounced off into the kitchen.

Marsha's head spun. The truth was, she liked this game. She liked being tied up and she liked having her friend play with her while she was helpless. It took all the responsibility away. She didn't know if that made her a lesbian or not (scary word; don't go there) but she liked being tied up while Pauline used her like a sex toy. It wasn't like being with a guy. No danger of getting pregnant. And Pauline didn't live here, so it wasn't like she was going to get sucked into a relationship or anything. Why not have a fling? It sure beat going to the shoe sale at Nordstrom's, which was what she had intended to propose for later in the day.

While she was talking herself into it, she heard strange noises from the kitchen.

"Mmm? Umm?" she murmured. But there was no response.

A few minutes later, Pauline returned to the living room. The first thing Marsha noticed was that her camisole was gone. Now she was wearing only her little yellow bikini panties. The second thing Marsha noticed was the duct tape plastered across her mouth, and the wild dazed eyes above the tape. The third thing Marsha noticed was the worst: Behind her was a strange man, wearing a ski mask, grasping her arms and forcing her into the living room.

The burglar!

He smiled at the scene before him. "Well, well, well. What have we here? A couple of girl scouts practicing their knots. Thanks for tying up your friend, Blondie. You saved me the trouble." Pauline suddenly attempted to break loose, and as the intruder effortlessly restrained her, Marsha saw that her arms were handcuffed behind her back. So much for her theory of the burglar using whatever material he found lying around. This guy came prepared!

While she lay there frozen, helpless, the burglar dragged Pauline down to the basement. He was a big guy, with muscular arms; obviously he'd had no problem overpowering her. She strained her ears, trying to hear what was happening. Desperately she felt for a knot, but Pauline had tied her too cleverly. What irony! Pauline had tied her up so she could enjoy Marsha's body, and now someone else was going to take advantage of her predicament.

A few minutes later, the burglar stomped back upstairs. The ski mask was scary. It made him look like a terrorist. When he stood looking down on her she really felt captured. Chuckling, he untied her. When the last rope came off she tried to run, but she was stiff from being tied, and he caught her before she took one complete step. Having made her face-saving gesture, Marsha surrendered. The burglar pulled off her T-shirt, leaving her in just her panties. Holding her wrists tightly behind her back, he marched her downstairs.

Pauline was standing in the clear area in front of the furnace, her hands tied at the wrists and raised over her head by a rope going to a ceiling beam. The burglar had tied her right ankle to her right thigh, so she was balanced precariously on her left leg, like a flamingo. She looked like a diver striking a pose.

The burglar wrestled Marsha to the cold concrete floor. Sitting on her stomach, he made her clasp her hands in a praying position, then quickly and roughly tied them with rope. Rope around the wrists, then more rope in between to cinch them tight. He stood and yanked Marsha to her feet and suspended her from the ceiling so that she faced Pauline. Then he tied her right ankle to the right thigh so she had to balance too. The two women looked at each other in shock, faces a few feet apart.

Amazing how quickly her average suburban basement had become a dungeon. The thick walls and tiny windows, which made it a cool quiet place to do laundry, also proved to be an excellent venue for sex crimes. Their captor could do anything he wanted, and no one walking by would see or hear a thing.

From a gym bag the burglar produced a set of sinister-looking clamps connected by a light chain. He seized one of Marsha's big breasts and clamped the nipple. "UUUUU!" she squealed through her gag. The other end he attached to one of Pauline's small breasts. He repeated this with another set of clamps on the remaining two breasts, and when he was finished, two chains connected the women by their delicate titties. Marsha found this fiendish. If either of them moved...

Satisfied he had things under control, the burglar undid Marsha's Ace bandage and removed the wash cloth. "OK, Red, where's the jewelry?"

"I'm not going to tell you."

"Sure you will." He swatted her big bottom. Marsha flinched, and lost her one-leg balance, and when she toppled her nipples yanked Pauline's nipples. Both women yelped. Marsha hopped and tried to stand upright, but couldn't get her balance. She fell and swung by her wrists, jerking and pulling both hers and Pauline's tender nipples. Meanwhile the burglar was spanking her, which kept her off balance.

"I give up!" she yelled, and told him what he wanted to know.

"You better not be lying to me." He casually gagged her by winding the Ace bandage around her head and through her mouth a few times, and went upstairs.

Marsha realized she could talk through her crude gag. "Quick! Now's our chance to escape."

Pauline gurgled something unintelligible, and shrugged as well as she could, given the way her arms were raised over her head.

Irritated by her friend's passivity, Marsha scrutinized the ropes. The burglar was a crafty bastard. He'd tied the ropes suspending them so that the knots were out of reach overhead. The distance was only 18 inches or so, but even if she could jump that high, she would then have to levitate in order to work on the knots. If she had a box or something on which to stand, she would be high enough to reach the knots and undo them at her leisure. But he'd selected a clear area in which to suspend them. Those old kitchen chairs over by the wall would be perfect, but they were ten feet away. It was surprising how little material it took to make her a prisoner. Two short pieces of rope!

The pose was so well thought-out that Marsha felt like a subject in a sinister scientific experiment.

So she simply waited, trying to conserve her strength, while the tingle in her spanked bottom subsided. A few minutes later the burglar bounded down the steps. Marsha hoped he would trip and fall and hurt himself, but no such luck. "Good girl. You were telling the truth. I'll be on my way soon. Sorry I have to leave you like this, but you understand I need some time for my getaway. I have to make sure you can't yell for help."

His well-stocked gym bag provided a roll of gray duct tape and some hand towels. He laid out his supplies on the washing machine, then untied the Ace bangage.

Marsha had been thinking frantically. Gagged, she was going to be trapped down here until someone missed her. But if she could convince the burglar to leave her mouth free, she could yell for help. When she heard the mailman, say. It was worth a try.

"You don't have to gag me," Marsha begged. "I won't scream."

"Sure you won't. Open."

"Even if I did, no one would hear me down here."

"Maybe not. But the union has rules. You don't want me to lose my union card, do ya?"

He held a towel up to her face. Marsha gritted her teeth and glared at him. The burglar rolled his eyes. With his right hand he held the wadding by her mouth, and with his left hand he grabbed a breast. She gasped at the jolt, and in that instant he crammed the towel in. She twisted her head around, trying not to yank on her breasts in the process, but he packed her mouth firmly and taped the wadding in place. One, two, three strips. Cheek to cheek. When he finished her tongue was pinned and she could barely grunt. Breathing through her nose, she glared at him, and tried to memorize his teeth so she could identify him in a line up.

"See? That's not so bad." He tested his handiwork by flicking the clamps on her nipples until she tried to scream, but the only sounds she could produce were muffled and indistinct. Having proved his point, she expected him to stop, but he flicked her a few more times, the sadistic bastard.

"That's for giving me a hard time instead of cooperating like Blondie. Say, have you been reading about me in the paper?"

Marsha nodded, desperate to placate him. Hanging there practically naked, completely defenseless, she didn't want him to get any ideas. She wanted him to take his loot and go.

"I bet the cops love me. Rescuing gals strung up like you sure beats doing seat belt checks. But you know, I do a lot of stuff they can't put in a family newspaper. I'm really a nice guy, see, and I don't want you girls to get bored while you're waiting to be rescued."

From the gym bag he produced a strange garment. It looked like a skimpy bikini bottom, like those sluts wore in Brazil, only made of black rubber instead of cloth.

"Eeeny meeny minee mo...."

Pauline. He produced a pocket knife, and she closed her eyes. But the burglar simply cut off her panties and felt her up. Her eyes widened. "Juicy girl! Glad you're having fun. But the backdoor usually needs some work." He stepped behind her with a tube of KY jelly. Marsha couldn't see what he did, but Pauline closed her eyes and moaned. "Don't kick me or you'll be sorry," he said, and untied her leg.

Working with practiced efficiency, the burglar dressed her in the bikini and inserted two dildos, a big one in her vagina and a smaller, shorter one in her bottom. The latex bikini was to hold them in place. When he was done, which took only a minute or two, Pauline had dildos securely rammed into her, fore and aft. Her eyes glazed and she whimpered softly.

"Now for the lady of the house." Desperately she shook her head no, but he ignored her. She froze when he took the knife to her hip, but he was careful not to cut her. Her panties dropped away, and cool air flowed over her pussy.

"Glad to see you're a natural, Red." In came the fingers. "You're wet too. You girls always get wet. Why pretend you don't like being dominated?" The KY jelly was a cold squirt in her bottom. He untied her leg, but it had gone to sleep, so she wasn't able to do anything except stand while he pulled up the bikini and inserted the dildos. They felt gigantic! But she was so wet down there it was embarrassing. When the bikini snapped into place over the dildos, the resilient rubber pushed them in farther!

Marsha moaned into her gag. What a sensation! She'd never imagined! Marsha was no stranger to penises, having given many of them a temporary home, but at least with a man you could negotiate what was happening. The combination of hard plastic driven by rubber was like being fucked by a machine.

The burglar was watching her face and grinning. He tapped on the end of the real dildo and made her gasp. Then he retied her leg, and Pauline's too, so they were back to being flamingos. "Sorry I can't stick around and play with you, but I've gotta run. Bye now. Have a nice day." He patted Marsha's bare bottom and clomped up the stairs and was gone.

Marsha had friends in the neighborhood, and socialized a lot on weekends, so she was confident that eventually one of her neighbors would come looking for her. But that could be hours!

In the meantime, she was dangling from a beam in her basement, standing on one leg, hands tied overhead, mouth sealed, vagina and anus impaled by a pair of sex toys. She saw now why the bastard had strapped in the dildos. She was so wet that without the rubber bikini she could have easily expelled them.

Just for the hell of it, she squeezed her butt as if taking a shit, curious to see how far she could push that damn thing. If she could somehow make it slip out of the rubber... No luck. But when she squeezed the sensation intensified on both sides. Oh my. It was like being fucked by two torpedos trying to touch inside her.

She squeezed again, a little harder, and made the dildos slide out. When she relaxed, the rubber bikini forced them back in.

Automatically she did it again, and realized she liked the sensation. She began squeezing and relaxing, squeezing and relaxing, and soon she was fucking herself, the dildos slowly moving in and out like an obscene drilling machine. The pace was slower than she liked, but more intense. No chance of them going soft either. She wished she could tell Pauline. Then she looked at her friend's crotch, and saw the blunt end of the front dildo rising and falling through the rubber, and realized that Pauline had figured it out too.

Eyes closed, Pauline was industriously working her sex toys, slowly and deliberately getting herself off.

Despite the humiliation of being more or less raped by a total stranger, Marsha found the situation exciting.

Well, since she wasn't going anywhere for a while...

Carefully she swayed backward, until the chains tugged their nipples. Pauline opened her eyes and gave Marsha a cross look.

Marsha tugged her again and glared. Finally Pauline she realized what Marsha intended.

With a liquid moan, Pauline responded in kind, moving her chest back to gently tweak Marsha's breasts.

Satisfied, Marsha set the rhythm, glad to finally have the upper hand. The women rocked back and forth, nipples tingling, pelvises contracting. It was a tricky dance, but as she felt her first orgasm creeping up, Marsha began to think that maybe it would be OK if they weren't discovered for a while.