We had agreed to meet at a coffee shop in Fenway. She had messaged me saying that she preferred for our first meeting to be somewhere public. She had once gone through a bad experience and now made it her policy to be careful when meeting up with internet strangers. That seemed more than reasonable to me—I likewise didn’t want to get chopped up by some crazy person just because I was hoping to explore a newfound interest in kink.
She was sitting in a corner wearing a green shawl, just like she had said she would be. She watched me enter, though she did not know that I was the one meeting her until I had bought a coffee and come over to introduce myself.
Her name was Sylvia. She was a teacher at a public high school. She was in her early thirties, a good seven or so years older than me. She was also extremely attractive, which intimidated me. I wasn’t a bad-looking guy, but she was out of my league, no question about it.
We talked about that morning’s delays on the T for a while, and about the Marathon, until we felt more comfortable with each other. Then there was a pause. Her bright-blue eyes studied me closely.
“Have you ever done anything like this before?” she finally asked.
“Uh, not really. Like I said, I’m pretty new to this.”
“So you’ve never rope-bottomed before?”
I glanced nervously at the flannel-clad couple at the table next to us. “I mean, I’ve been tied up. My ex-girlfriend would tie me up sometimes.”
“But this would be the first time you’ve been somebody’s model?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. You get that I’m looking for a model and not a partner, right?” She had been explicit about that in her profile.
“Yeah, you said that. I understand.”
“I just want to make sure that we’re clear on that. You seem nice, but like you say you’re new to this. As a model, you’d just be somebody I practice with.”
I nodded. “That’s fine. Yeah. I’m 100 percent okay with that.”
“This is not supposed to be a sexual thing. I’m not looking for new partners right now. I have a boyfriend.”
She had mentioned the boyfriend in her profile too. That struck me as a bit weird, but, frankly, I considered myself lucky to have found a domme-leaning woman willing to initiate me into the kink scene at all.
“Right. I’m really okay with that.”
“Good.”
“I mean—as long as he’s okay with it.”
“He is,” she said. She then sipped her coffee, her eyes watching me over the rim of her mug. “Do you have any other questions about how this will work?”
A question had, in fact, just occurred to me. I wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate to ask. But it seemed important given everything she had told me so far.
“Ah… I do. I’ve got one,” I told her.
“Hmm?”
“Well, I can’t guarantee that, um—depending on what we do—that I won’t get aroused, you know? If you’re going to tie me up. Is that all right?”
She smiled. “Oh, that’s fine. That happens. I just need you to understand that kink and sex are not necessarily the same thing. A lot of people new to the scene don’t get that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t mind if you get turned on by being tied up, as long as you understand that I’m going to be focused on developing a skill and not on sex.”
“Oh. That makes sense. Yeah.”
“Good. Because I’m serious about this being practice. It’s been a while since I’ve had a model and there’s a lot that I want to work on.”
Whatever it was she had in mind, I was exhilarated at the prospect of her doing it to me. Part of me still thought this was too good to be true. I tried not to seem over-eager.
We arranged to meet again at her place a few days later. We talked a little more while finishing our coffee. Then we stepped outside together. She was walking east. I was headed back on the Green Line.
“Oh, and make sure you wear briefs,” she told me before we parted. “Boxers just get in the way.”
*************************
I was surprised to learn that she lived in Back Bay, not far from where we had gotten coffee. Hadn’t she told me she was a teacher? I hardly knew anything about her, I realized. Maybe agreeing to meet at her apartment so quickly wasn’t the smartest idea I’d ever had.
I was nervous when I knocked on her door. I was still nervous after she let me in and offered me a glass of water. Her apartment was nice—small, but still beyond the means of a public school teacher living in Boston, I thought. There was a living room, a dining nook with a table for four, a tiny kitchen, and a bathroom near the entrance. I could also see a closed door that must have led to her bedroom. Several coils of bright pink rope were laid out on her couch.
She saw me notice the rope and looked ever so faintly amused, like the Mona Lisa. Wow. What was I doing here?
“Would you mind if I played some music while we do this?” she asked. “It’s weird new age-y stuff, but it’s relaxing.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll put it on. While I do that, why don’t you take off your clothes? You can use my bathroom.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure.”
I porno izle found somewhere to put down my glass, then stepped into her bathroom and closed the door. Disrobing in her bathroom felt ridiculous given what we were planning to do, but somehow it was also appropriate. She was a stranger and I was a guest in her apartment. I wasn’t going to strip in the middle of her living room.
We had not discussed how naked I was supposed to be. Since she had mentioned that I should wear briefs, I stripped down to those. I was pretty sure that was what she expected, but I still felt a rush of trepidation as I folded my clothes under my arm, grabbed the handle to the bathroom door, and stepped out.
Sylvia was sitting on the couch with her back turned, uncoiling her rope. “Hey,” I said, lamely.
She turned and pointed to a chair. “You can leave your clothes there.”
I did as she suggested. She then beckoned me over and had me sit on the couch right next to her. The material of the cushion scratched against my bare skin. She made no comment on my near-nudity.
“I thought we could start out with something simple just to get you comfortable. You seem a bit nervous.”
“I am. Sorry. I really haven’t done anything like this.”
“That’s okay. We can take things slowly.” She pointed to a strangely angled pair of scissors on the couch next to the rope. “If anything goes wrong, I have these. But if you are uncomfortable at all, please try to let me know well before it becomes a serious problem. I’ll be angry if I have to cut through my rope. It’s new.”
“All right.”
“Good. Now give me your arm. This one should be quick, but it’s a pretty one.”
She reached for my wrist and pulled it toward her. She planted my palm on the couch next to her thigh, then picked up one of the coils of rope. She then spent five minutes or so wrapping my arm in an elaborate twisted sleeve that extended from my wrist to just above my elbow. While she worked, I tried hard not to fixate on how bizarre this whole situation was.
She gave the last knot a good tug, making the entire sleeve tight around my arm.
“How does that feel?”
“Good. Yeah, fine.”
She worked for another minute or so, tucking stray bits of rope out of sight. She then pulled out her phone.
“You don’t mind if I take a photo do you? Just of your arm.”
I had already seen the many photos she put up on her profile and anticipated this. “Oh, no, go ahead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s no problem.”
“Okay, great. Maybe this a good time to ask—I might want to take quite a few photos actually, as we do this. Just so I can get a sense of how I’m progressing. Would that be okay?”
“Sure, as long as you don’t post anything with my face.”
“Of course. I’ll want to put photos of my work up, but no face, and I’ll clear them all with you first.”
“Thanks.”
She turned my arm to a better angle for the light, her fingers gently wrapping around my wrist. She then took two or three pictures.
“Great. I want to try tying your arms behind your back next. Do you think you could sit down on the floor in front of the couch?” She pointed to a spot on her shag carpet just in front of where she was sitting. I sat down cross-legged in front of her.
“Can you reach your arms behind you and grab your elbows?” She guided my arms into position. “Yeah, just like that. Is that comfortable? You might be in this position for a bit.”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
She lifted my arms up to pass a rope between them and my back, then started tying. This tie seemed like it would be slow-going. The silence began making me uncomfortable. I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me before, but this whole rope-modeling thing obviously meant we’d be spending a lot of time together.
“Do you do this a lot?” I asked her.
“No, actually, like I said, it’s been a while. Usually I’m the one getting tied up. Chris is much better at this than me—he’s my boyfriend. It was my birthday last week and he tied me up at my birthday party.”
“Oh. Happy belated birthday.”
“Thanks. He tied me up and then our friends—we had some people come over here—they took turns eating cake off of me. It was awesome.”
I pictured her naked and covered in cake. “Wow. That must have been awesome.”
“It was so, so hot. We have a lot of kinky friends, it’s great.” She pulled something tight and suddenly I found that my wrists were bound together. “Of course, we can usually only do things on the weekends when Chris is here. He’s been traveling a lot for work lately.”
“What does he do?”
“He works for BCG. It sucks that he’s away so much now but we try to make up for it when he’s back.”
“Oh, that’s… smart.”
She wrapped some more rope around my upper arms. My arms were slowly becoming immobilized behind my back.
“Are you still feeling okay?” She had moved closer and now her voice was almost in my ear.
“Yes. It’s tight. But not too tight.”
“That’s perfect. Let’s see here… I’m almost done. There. amatör porno That looks good. What do you think? Can you move at all?”
I could lean forward and backward, but I found that my arms were completely trapped. Her knots barely gave. It felt amazing. I tried not to focus on that.
“Uh, no, I don’t think so. I’m pretty stuck.”
She got off the couch and walked around in front of me. I could only lean back so far without toppling over. She looked down at me, examining her handiwork, while I struggled to look back up at her.
She grinned. “Mmm, you do look pretty stuck. Even if you wanted to, I’m not sure you could escape this one.”
To my alarm, I felt myself starting to get hard. I tried to calm down.
“All right, I’m just going to take another couple of photos. Hold tight.” She sat down behind me again and took a few photos of my tied up arms. “I think you’ll like these. You look good tied up. I can send these to you if you like.”
“Yeah, please.”
She shifted on the couch to get another angle.
I was relieved that she was taking the photos from behind me. She had told me explicitly that it would be okay if I got aroused. But that had been last Thursday. Now that I was here, in her apartment, mostly naked while she was fully clothed, participating in what for her was very clearly just an exercise… Everything had been so polite and amiable so far. I couldn’t imagine getting hard in front of her now.
“Perfect,” she said, dropping her phone back on the couch. “I’m happy with that. There’s another thing I want to try but let me untie you first.” She started undoing the mess of rope around my arms.
It took a while. There were faint red lines on my skin when I could bring my arms forward again. She walked back in front of me, carrying her coils of rope with her. “Game for one more?” she asked.
I had been able to get a grip on myself and cool off while she had untied me. But it had been a close call. I didn’t want to ruin everything by letting on how much this excited me. Still, against my better judgment, I told her yes.
“Great. Because this next one is a personal favorite of mine. It’s called the ‘Futomomo,’ which in Japanese means something like ‘fat thigh.’ Why don’t you scoot backward and lean against the couch.”
“‘Futomomo’?” I scooted backward.
“‘Futomomo,’ that’s right. You’re about to see why. I’m going to press your ankle toward your butt, okay?” Her fingers wrapped around my right ankle. “I’m going to press it back as far as I can before you get uncomfortable, so just say when.”
“Sure.” She pushed until I said to stop.
“Now just hold that there, okay?” She tied a loop around the ankle, then started wrapping loops around my thigh and shin so that my bent leg was stuck in position. When she ran out of rope, she attached a second length of rope to the first and kept wrapping. She tied everything off, then used the remaining rope to secure my wrist to the outside of my leg.
“Can you extend your leg at all?”
“Definitely not.” It indeed felt like I had one fat thigh for a leg.
“Good, let’s do your other leg. Same deal.” She gripped my other ankle and pushed it toward my butt, bending my left leg this time. I was extremely conscious of how close her hand was to my crotch. Halfway through the tying of that leg something went wrong and she had to start again, but eventually my left leg and left wrist were tied in place the same way that my right leg and right wrist were.
She moved back to a position where she was kneeling on the carpet in front of me about a foot or two away. She looked me over. “Feel good?”
I couldn’t believe how good it felt. I thought I had been stuck before, but now I was totally hobbled. I couldn’t move my hands to get leverage on the floor and, even if I somehow got my legs under me, I couldn’t move them to stand up. I was trapped exactly where I was until she decided to untie me.
I started to get hard again. I really hoped my legs were close enough together for her not to notice.
“Yeah, it honestly feels amazing. I, uh… really like this.”
“I’m not surprised. I love it when Chris uses this one on me. I like how my legs just feel so useless.”
I tested the ropes again. Yup. My heels were pressed right up against my ass and fixed in place there. Fuck, this was way too hot.
“I can see what you mean,” I told her.
“My favorite part about it though,” she said, starting to move toward me, “is that the rope on the outside of your legs acts like a handle. If you grab it like this”—she slid her fingers under the rope on both sides—”you actually have a lot of leverage.”
She locked her eyes with mine. Then she very easily pulled my legs wide apart. The blood rushed straight to my cock. My briefs hid next to nothing as my cock rose up right below her face.
“Oh fuck,” I said.
She was grinning. She said nothing about my obvious arousal. Instead, she suggested that I try to close my legs. “You’d be surprised by how much leverage this gives anal porno me.”
I tried, but she had no trouble holding them apart.
“Come on. Really try.”
I really tried, squirming with the effort. She had to lean forward to put more weight into holding my legs down. My cock got harder. The swell of it was right there. It had to be so, so obvious.
“Fuck,” I said again. “I can’t.”
She laughed. “It’s not easy, is it?”
She held me there for a second more, her eyes gazing right into mine. Then she let go of the ropes, glancing down as she did so. At least, I think she glanced down.
“All right,” she said. “We better skip the photos for this one. I know it’s late and I don’t want to keep you too long. Let’s get you untied.”
It took her a few minutes to undo all of her knots. By the time she had me untied, my erection had subsided. But my face was still red. I stood there sheepishly while she began coiling her rope.
“This was great practice for me,” she said. “You’re a very easy model to work with. I’d like to do this again soon.”
I nodded. “Me too.”
*************************
I was knocking on her door again a week later. I had no idea what to expect for our second session. All she had told me was that I should show up an hour earlier than I had last time.
I was unbelievably excited. My last visit to her apartment had been one of the most erotic experiences of my life. I had, at several points in the last week, been tempted to confess this to her, to point out how clearly erotic our last session had been, to ask her for some kind of clarification of our relationship. But with each passing day I trusted my memory of what had happened that night less and less. Had she been aware of her effect on me? Had she meant to tease me? What evidence did I have? A smirk?
No, she had been explicit. This was just practice. If I said something, it’d just weird her out. I was determined to play things cool.
She opened the door. I was momentarily overwhelmed at the feel of her eyes on me again. “Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” she replied, smiling. “Thanks so much for coming by a bit earlier this time. I have something in mind which might take a while, but I think it’ll be fun.”
She sent me into her bathroom to strip down while she got her rope ready. I stripped down to my briefs again, though after what had happened last time keeping them on didn’t do much to make me feel less exposed.
Once I was out of the bathroom, I was surprised to see that she was setting up in the little dining space she had at one end of her living room, just next to her kitchen. She had laid out her rope on the circular dining table.
“I was thinking,” she explained, “that I want to work on something a bit longer-term this time. I hope that’s okay. I’m feeling pretty good about the basics, especially after last week—thanks for your help. But I what I really want to focus on is being able to tie someone up securely but also comfortably, you know?”
I left my clothes on the couch and walked toward her. I felt goosebumps rise along my arms. She had her AC going.
“I was comfortable last time,” I told her.
“But I didn’t tie you up for very long at all. Chris sometimes ties me up for hours. He’s so good at it. It’s really hard though to make sure the rope bottom stays comfortable all that time.”
“That makes sense.”
“Yeah. And maybe it’s worth telling you more about what I’m trying to achieve here. Have you even been to a play party?”
“No.”
“Oh, you should at some point! They’re really fun. But yeah—I really want to feel more confident volunteering to do ties at the party that Chris and I go to, but I also don’t want to get a reputation for putting people in uncomfortable ties. So I was hoping we could work on that. Would that be okay with you? You have some time, right?”
“Yeah, of course.” How long did she mean?
“Perfect! Okay. Let’s get you laying down on my table.” She put her hand against the bare skin of my back and gave me a little nudge as if she were blocking a scene on stage. “You should be facing upward. I hope you aren’t too tall.”
“Just, like, get on it?”
“That’s right.”
I climbed onto her table with as much grace as was possible and sat down. She put her hand on my chest and gently guided my torso downward until I was lying flat and staring up at her ceiling. The smooth wooden surface of the table was cool against my shoulder blades.
“Very good,” she said. “Now, I want you to raise your hands above your head and give them to me, okay? And just relax. This will only take a minute.”
I tried to relax but my mind was racing. She started tying my left wrist to one of the table legs above my head. This woman I barely knew was going to tie me to her dining table.
It didn’t take her long to finish securing my left wrist. She was equally quick with my right wrist.
“How does that feel? Like I said, I’m really trying to get this right. Will you be comfortable?”
My left arm was bent awkwardly. I pointed that out to her.
“Oh, I think I know how to fix that,” she said, walking around me to where my feet were just hanging off the table. She grabbed them both and pulled hard. I slid down the table toward her, which extended my arms fully above my head.